They’d done this before, but now was different. Somehow new and familiar at the same time. Her insides were melting away, and it was a good thing his hands were there to hold her up because she was falling against him. A hand cupped her breast, and she moaned into his mouth, arching her back when his thumb found the most sensitive bits.
Suddenly she wasn’t chilly at all.
In fact, she could do with a lot less clothing.
Her hands explored under the hem of his T-shirt, stroking along the planes of his stomach, tracing the muscles of his chest. One of his hands stroked down her back and found its way beneath the waistband of her jeans, just an inch, maybe two, but just feeling his fingers on more sensitive skin had her panting into his mouth.
He dragged the sweatshirt over her head before she even knew what he was doing. Then his mouth was on her neck, his hands grabbing her thighs and lifting her, carrying her back to the car in such a way that she wanted him to quit with the gentle stuff and push her up against the side of the car, just to feel the sheer power of it.
He did exactly that. It felt even better than she expected. The radio was still on, some announcer’s voice filling the afternoon air with football scores or weather reports or even the price of tea in China.
She so didn’t care, because Hunter’s shirt was gone and he was kissing inside the neckline of her top. He was pressed so tightly against her that she could feel everything, and it was amazing and terrifying and sensual and breathless and she couldn’t think.
Her hands groped for the button to his jeans. Hunter made a low sound, an encouraging sound.
But then he broke the kiss and caught her wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice rough.
And worried. He reached past her and turned up the radio. “What did he just say?”
Kate could barely comprehend English, and she struggled to wrap her brain around this sudden shift. “What is it? What—”
“Shh.” He put a finger over her lips, his attention on the radio.
Then she picked up what the announcer was saying.
“. . . Mrs. Dean recently lost her niece Calla Dean in a school carnival fire a few days ago. She states that prior to his disappearance, Noah was a good student who had never given any indication of running away. He’d indicated problems with a student at the high school, and we’ll update this story as further information is available. For now, local police are treating the area as a crime scene. Anyone with information should call . . .”
Disappearance.
Noah Dean was missing.
CHAPTER 26
Hunter headed back toward Annapolis, sticking to the speed limit.
He couldn’t afford attention.
A big part of his brain was crying for him to make a run for it. It wasn’t like he’d gone after Noah Dean in secret. Vickers knew. Other students knew. What had that news report said? A crime scene? The cops could be looking for him.
And really, he shouldn’t give a crap about one kid who’d caused more than his share of misery.
Hunter just couldn’t shake the feeling he was somehow responsible .
He’d tried to find another report, but now the DJ didn’t want to do much more than churn out the same crap pop songs he played every hour.
Kate was searching on her phone.
Or she was trying to.
“We’re going to have to wait until we get out of the mountains,” she said. “The Internet is taking forever to load.”
“Should you text Silver?”
She didn’t say anything, and Hunter glanced over to see her studying the face of her phone, her mouth squinched up like she was deep in thought.
“Hey,” he said. “Can you text Silver and ask him what to do?”
“No.”
“No?”
She looked over at him. “Have you considered that Silver might be the reason Noah is missing?”
Those coils of tension wound their way around Hunter’s chest again. He felt like such an idiot—hadn’t he agreed to help them yesterday? And now one kid was missing, and he felt ready to go to pieces.
Just like always, he didn’t know who he was supposed to rescue and who he was supposed to destroy.
Your talents don’t make you better than the other Elementals. They make you worse. Just look what you’re doing right now.
He bit the inside of his lip until he tasted blood.
Then he fished his phone out of his pocket and tossed it to Kate. “Text Michael Merrick and ask if he’s heard about Noah Dean.”
“You want me to text Michael Merrick and ask for help?” Her voice was slightly incredulous.
“Not ask for—look, Kate, just do it, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair and wondered if it would be easier to drive his car straight off a cliff.
She slid her fingers across the face of the phone. “Okay. I asked if he’s heard the news.”
“Let’s wait and see what he says.”
They waited.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
“Text Gabriel,” said Hunter.
She did.
Hunter only waited seven minutes this time.
“Try Becca.”
Nothing.
Nothing.
What did that mean? Had something happened? Were they missing, too?
Or were they just partying on the back deck and no one was looking at their phone?
Either was possible. “Find Bill Chandler’s name. Ask him if he’s talked to Becca.”
She scrolled. Texted.
“Are you sure this is the right number?” she asked after a moment.
“Yeah, I just talked to him last week.”
“The text bounced back and said that line belonged to an account that has not yet been activated.”
“What?”
“Here, I’ll text Silver and ask what his status is.” She paused, typing. The response must have come back immediately, because he saw her scowl out of the corner of his eye.
“What?” he said.
“I said, ‘Checking in. What’s your status?’ He said, ‘Interesting question, Kathryn. What’s your status?’ ”
Now Hunter understood the scowl. “He’s kind of a dick.”“Tell me about it.” She was typing furiously at her phone. The wind was making a mess of her hair. She looked incredible.
Then she said. “I’m telling him I’m with you.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Honestly, I’m out of ideas. I don’t know what this means, and we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
He didn’t have anything to say to that. He’d driven her out here, and now something was happening and they were too far away to do anything about it.
He kept hearing Michael’s lecture from last night, about running from confrontation.
Now it was biting him in the ass.
“Huh,” said Kate.
She was killing him. “What?” said Hunter.
“Silver says, ‘My question was rhetorical.’ ”
“So he knew you were with me.” This wasn’t getting them anywhere.
He drove, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking. He didn’t have enough information. Could Noah have run away? What was the crime scene?
Did Silver have something to do with the boy’s disappearance?
Then Hunter had a startling thought. Did the Merricks? Hunter’s files were at the house. They could have gone after Noah Dean themselves.
Without telling Hunter?
Gabriel had kicked Hunter in the stomach last night, had laid into him with true fury.
No. They wouldn’t have told him.
“Finally got Internet,” said Kate. “Local news says the mom went to the grocery store, leaving Noah at home.” She whistled low, through her teeth. “When she got back, he was gone and there was a pentagram on the door.”
“Silver?” said Hunter, his voice grim.
“Maybe,” said Kate. “He’s not responding to my texts now.”
Hunter froze. “Did you tell him about what happened yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“So he knows Calla is still alive?”
“He said he’s had no indication that her death was not final, and the word of one child is not enough to distract him from his mission.”
Hunter tried to remember that moment during the carnival. He’d seen Calla fall, had seen the blood pour from her shoulder. Fire had caught at her clothes.
And then he’d run.
Focus. Keep thinking.
There hadn’t been any more fires. But Noah had been so assured that Calla was still alive—but his mom, Calla’s aunt, had seemed stressed when Hunter saw her. Even the news report talked about Calla’s death in the carnival fire. If Calla was alive, she was hiding, or she was gone.
No, she wouldn’t have left town. Not with her army of kids.
But where would she be hiding? She was a popular student, captain of the girls’ volleyball team. She obviously couldn’t go to school, and she was way too eye-catching to move around town without being noticed.
“Where should we go?” said Kate.
Hunter blew out a long breath and ran a hand back through his hair. “Who’s more likely to help us?” he said. “The Merricks or Silver?”
“I’ve got a better question,” said Kate. “Who’s less likely to kill us?”
The Merrick house it was.
Hunter knew something was wrong the instant he pulled into the driveway.
No SUV. No work truck. No vehicles at all.
He pulled the parking brake but didn’t cut the engine.
“What’s wrong?” said Kate.
“No cars.”
They’d pulled off the highway to put the top back on the jeep, and just now, the interior of the car was ice cold.
He didn’t think it was him this time.
The longer they waited here, the more he was going to feel like a sitting duck. His father’s lessons were rattling around in his head, telling him he should have parked somewhere else and approached the house under cover.
Kate’s breath was fogging on the window.
Hunter yanked the keys out of the ignition and unlocked the glove box.
Kate’s eyes went wide when she saw the gun. “You’ve been armed this whole time?”
He gave her a look. “Tell me you’re not.”
“I don’t have a gun.”
“What do you have?”
“Maybe you can find out later.” Then she turned and slid out of the jeep.
God, she was killing him.
Nothing was amiss in the yard, but he felt too exposed on the walk to the front door. Especially when they found it unlocked.
No, not just unlocked. Slightly ajar.
Hunter paused there on the front porch and opened his senses, asking the elements for information. The power to the house had been turned off: either someone had thrown the master breaker in the basement, or the power had been cut. He didn’t sense any electricity. Just quiet air that carried no malice.
He had the gun in his hand anyway.
His back was to the house, so he could see as much of the yard as possible. Nothing moved.
But he couldn’t shake this feeling of wrongness, and it seemed foolish to walk straight into a house left this way.
Casper was alert and silent by his side, waiting for a command.
“Go ahead,” said Kate. Her voice was a bare breath of sound. “I’ll cover you.”
Well. Maybe it wasn’t so bad having an ally.
He slipped through the door, all the while hearing his father’s voice in his head.
Shadow shadow shadow shadow.
He wondered what his father would think of his activities in this exact moment.
The main level was unoccupied. Kate was a shadow herself, moving so silently that he could almost forget she was there—hell, Casper’s nails made more sound on the tiled entryway. He’d never worked with someone like this, someone who knew how to move, who could fall back on training and use it to her advantage.