Page 22 of Bad Blood Bear

Chapter 10

Lissa watched as they left the main road for a winding side road, taking note of the turns in case she had to find her way back out. Nice-guy vibe or not, it was stupid to let anyone take you somewhere you didn’t know how to get back from.

After a few minutes Tank turned onto a rutted dirt track that led deep into the woods. Lissa hadn’t seen a house for the last ten minutes.

She really hoped her creep radar was working right, and Tank wasn’t a serial killer. Or running a meth lab, or part of a scary militia group.

She even hoped, with a small part of her, that this was maybe a place she could stay for a while. Like the People of Ursus, but with a better ending.

She stole a glance at the man next to her. He was lost in thought, his mouth set in a grim line. She could tell what Brother Damien had done made him furiously angry, but he was trying not to upset her by letting it show too much.

Bad guys usually didn’t care about stuff like that. So hopefully she wasn’t having radar dysfunction.

As if he felt her gaze, Tank glanced over at her. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Don’t be scared. Nobody here will hurt you.”

Awesome.

“Nice try, Hulk,” she said. “You do get that when you tell somebody not to be scared of what they’re about to see, that’s an automatic tipoff that it’s scary, right?”

He rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to the road. “Fine,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it, then scream all you want. No one will hear you.”

Lissa smothered a grin. “Now there’s the serial killer I know and love.”

Tank just snorted, but she could see the glimmer of a smile. It made her feel warm inside, making him smile. Unless he was a drug lord or a domestic terrorist—then, not so much.

After a few more minutes of jolting along they pulled into a large clearing. In the center was a fancy two-story log cabin that looked like some rich person’s idea of roughing it. It had a wraparound porch with steps down to a built-in grill area with a mini-fridge and stainless steel counters, which in turn opened to a stone fire pit with comfy chairs circling it.

Definitely not roughing it. Maybe Tank really was a drug lord. That would suck.

Tank parked randomly in the first open space, near a couple of old beater trucks. Lissa opened her door and slid out, assessing the place, trying to get a vibe for how dangerous it was.

The rest of the place was a little less upscale than the cabin, a little more redneck. There was a row of rickety wooden sheds along the edges of the clearing, and a couple of well-used trailers back among the trees. Judging by the scattered tools and piles of lumber, construction seemed to be going on everywhere. It looked like people were squatting in the sheds, except for one that had a thick wooden door with an iron bar across it, held closed by a giant padlock.

Crap. That was probably the meth lab.

“Come on,” Tank said, heading for the cabin. Lissa followed, wishing she had her knife. She’d slipped her pepper spray into her pocket when Tank wasn’t looking, though—the cops had given it back to her in the envelope with the rest of her things.

There was no one around except a handsome man with sandy blond hair, buzzed on the sides and long on the top, sitting on one of the chairs by the empty fire pit reading a book. He halfway glanced up as they walked past, but didn’t meet their eyes or offer a greeting.

“That’s Sloan,” Tank said.

“Hi, Sloan,” Lissa said cheerfully. He looked up, startled, and then ducked his head down again.

Friendly sort, apparently.

As they approached the cabin, a huge man walked out the front door. He was as tall as Tank, and though he was not quite as broad-chested, his muscles were still impressive. Lissa could tell this because he wore nothing but a faded pair of jeans with holes in the knees, slung low on his hips. His hair was a tangled black mane of dreadlocks, and he didn’t look friendly.

“This her?” he said to Tank. Tank nodded.

“This is Flynn,” he said to Lissa. She nodded to the man. What was this, the land of the fucking giants? They were the two biggest men she’d ever seen in person. And this Flynn was one of the scariest, which was saying a lot.

But not bad-news-run-away-quick scary. Not someone who enjoyed violence, but who employed it without hesitation when necessary. Someone you’d want on your side, because he’d crush your enemies to powder without blinking.

Flynn looked down at Lissa. His gaze was impassive, his dark eyes flat and emotionless, and she felt like he was looking all the way inside her. His nostrils flared, as if he were scenting her.

She suddenly realized she still had blood on her hands.

After a minute, he gave a slight shake of his head, as if resigning himself to something he didn’t really want to do. “Bring her in,” he said.