She nodded and reached for her cell phone. The conversation with Gran was short, and when she'd finished there was heat in her cheeks.
He raised an eyebrow. "What did your grandmother say?"
"She said she's booked two adjoining cabins at Rogue River lodges. She said we should meet her there by ten."
That was over four hours away. Plenty of time to satisfy everyone's needs. "What else did she say?" There had to be something else to account for that flash of colour in her cheeks.
She met his gaze boldly. If she was embarrassed, she'd gotten over it quickly enough. "She said that werewolves are extremely fertile during the moon phase."
He didn't know what to say. Or think. The old girl certainly didn't miss a trick.
"She also said I should remember to use condoms."
Was that tacit approval? Or merely acceptance of the inevitable? "That goes without saying."
"I haven't got any."
He smiled. "I have. They're extra strong to catch those over-fertile little rockets."
"Well… good." A warm smile touched her lips. "You know, of course, that the trigger to release those rockets involves food."
"Including chocolate?"
"Chocolate will definitely earn you bonus points."
Then he was damn well going to find some chocolate.
"The next town we hit is Bandon. Keep your eyes open for something to eat."
"And somewhere to have sex?"
Her voice was little more than a throaty purr and damn near shot his control to hell. He shifted slightly, but it did little to ease the sudden ache. "There's a blanket in the back, and we are near the ocean. That generally means beaches."
She raised an eyebrow, expression amused. "What is it with you and behaviour that's likely to get us arrested?"
"Maybe underneath the cop there's a rebel trying to get out."
"There's certainly something trying to get out."
And with any sort of luck, it soon would. He pointed to the road ahead. "Concentrate. Or I won't be able to."
She grinned, and her gaze retreated to the front. But over the next ten minutes, the atmosphere changed. Became tense. He glanced at her. She still stared ahead, but her expression had become a little glazed. When he touched her arm, she jumped.
"There's trouble ahead." She picked up her phone and quickly dialled. "Gran? Did you see an attack other than tonight?"
She listened for a moment, her expression growing tenser. "Well, that may be the case, but I can feel something waiting ahead of us, and it's not alive."
Ethan frowned. Not alive? What the hell was she talking about?
"Yeah, I know it can't be a vampire. This is something else." She waited a few moments then added, "No. I think you're right. I think this is aimed at us. We'll meet you at the lodge. Just make sure you set yourself a warding circle until we get there."
She hung up and looked at him. "I can feel trouble up ahead."
"What kind of trouble?" And what the hell was a warding circle?
"I don't know. But the mere fact I'm sensing it suggests it's dead — whatever it is."
"How can something dead be a danger to us?"
"Vampires are dead. That thing we're chasing is dead."
She shrugged. "Do you really think werewolves are the only supernatural beings that walk this earth?"
"I never thought about it." Just spent his time trying to either control or forget that part of himself. And most of the time, he succeeded.
"Well, you'd better start thinking and believing. Because those things are out there, and right now they're massing against us."
He bit back disbelief and glanced at his rearview mirror.
There was no one behind them and no one in front of them other than the rapidly disappearing Mercedes. If they hit trouble, they'd have to face it alone, right here in the middle of nowhere.
"Any idea what we're facing?"
"No."
What good were talents that told you everything and yet nothing? "I have a gun in the back."
"Guns don't always hurt the dead."
He glanced at her, not sure whether or not she was joking. Her grim expression told him she wasn't. "So what does hurt them?"
"That depends on what we're facing."
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.
"How far ahead is it?"
"Close." She hesitated. "And coming closer."
The road was long and straight. He couldn't see anything approaching. Not a truck, not a car, not an ant. Maybe her psychic senses were going a little haywire…
"Look out!"
From the corner of his eye he caught the flash of red. An engine growled, then a truck surged out of the trees and across the road. He planted his foot on the gas pedal, but it was already too late. The truck hit the back of the Cadillac and slewed them around. He fought the wheel for control, but the trees loomed fast. They hit with a sickening crunch that jarred every bone in his body.
Through the creaking of metal and slight hiss of air came the sound of an engine. And not his. Whoever it was wasn't finished with them yet.
He undid his seat belt then reached across and undid Kat's. "You all right?"
She nodded. There was blood on the side of her face, and her hands were trembling as she pushed back her hair.
Her gaze met his, then went past and widened. "It's coming again."
"Get out." He reached past her and thrust open the door.
Then he did the same and dove out, tasting dirt as he rolled and rose. And not a second too soon. The truck crashed into his Caddie, buckling the door and pushing in the entire side of the car.
He ran around and wrenched open the truck's door. The stink that hit him was almost overwhelming, and he gagged. God, hadn't this madman showered in the last twenty years? He reached in, grabbed the idiot by the arm and pulled him out of the cab.
The driver hit the dirt and didn't move, though if the wild gyrations of his arms and legs were anything to go by, he was certainly trying. It looked for all the world like there was an invisible weight sitting on his chest, holding him down.
"It's a zombie." Kat stopped beside him, a bead of perspiration running down her cheek and an odd look of concentration on her face.
"As in, Night of the Living Dead ?"
"Yep."
He kicked the idiot's foot. "He doesn't feel dead. And he's certainly not acting dead."
The look she gave him suggested frustration. Or annoyance. "Well, no, and that's because he's the living dead and not the dead dead."
He swallowed the urge to argue the point. "We'll tie this moron up, then I'll call Mark and ask him to take care of the problem."
"The zombie won't be here by the time your partner gets the cops here."
"I tie a pretty mean knot, lady, and I have no intention of leaving the keys here."
"That doesn't matter. He's a zombie. He has more strength than you or I, and being tied with rope won't slow him down."
He took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "So what do you suggest I do?"
"Kill it."
He stared at her. "You and your grandmother really do have this thing about killing things, don't you?"
She indicated the squirming, stinking mass at their feet.
"When you're dealing with the likes of this, you have no choice."
"I'm a cop, and despite common belief, we do not go around shooting people just for the fun of it."
"Shooting it won't kill it. Only breaking its neck will do that."
"I may be a werewolf, but I'm not a monster." He was beginning to wonder, however, if she was. But wondering certainly didn't kill his desire for her. Not in the least. "Go fetch the rope from the trunk."
She glared at him, then spun on her heel and did as he asked. Several seconds later she tossed the rope at him.
"You'll regret this, you know."
"I'd regret killing him even more." He quickly tied the stinking mass then tossed it in the back of the truck. The aroma of death seemed to cling to him as he stepped away. "I'll drive this thing off the road, then we'll continue on."