Before I could recapture them, the crowd shifted and someone squealed my name. I caught a split-second glimpse of dark skin and bright fabric before I was tackled by five feet and one inch of enthusiasm.
“Human ribs,” I gasped. “Can’t. Breathe. Se—re—na.”
A flicker of embarrassment crossed Serena Carson’s face as she released me. “Sorry. I forgot.” She raked a hand through her shoulder-length curls and scanned the crowd to see if anyone had noticed her minuscule slip. Serena was usually very good at hiding her condition. She had to be. Like Kyle, and thousands of other werewolves living underground, she’d be sent to a government rehabilitation camp if anyone found out she had lupine syndrome.
She turned back to me and frowned as she catalogued the bags under my eyes and my rumpled clothes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hell. And I’m saying that as someone who spent the night on a Greyhound listening to the life story of a guy called Murray the Rat.” She slipped a backpack from her shoulder and tossed it at Jason.
He caught it effortlessly, his eyes impossible to read behind the sunglasses. “Carson. Fancy seeing you here.”
I shot Jason a nervous glance, then flashed Serena a small smile. “Not all of us dress like every day is a casting call for America’s Next Top Model.”
She glanced down at her outfit—a turquoise bomber-style jacket over a belted pink shirt and gray capris—and grinned. “The shoes don’t really work,” she said, gesturing to the blue Chuck Taylors on her feet, “but I figured flats would be better for pounding pavement.”
“They look good. Tess has a pair just like them.” Guilt flooded me at the thought of my cousin. “Is she okay?”
Serena nodded. “Upset and worried, but okay. At least you’re providing the mother of all distractions from Ben. No sign of him,” she added, before the question could leave my lips.
I exhaled. I still wasn’t sure how—or if—I should tell Tess that Ben was the white werewolf who had terrorized Hemlock and killed Amy. As far as she knew, he had dumped her and skipped town to hook up with his ex. I wanted it to stay that way until I figured out what to do.
Serena glanced at Jason and arched an eyebrow. “Speaking of distractions, I told everyone at school that you went to Vegas on a bender. Mac and Kyle are supposedly tracking you down before you marry a hooker and sign away the family fortune.”
Without a word, Jason turned and headed for the parking garage, striding through the crowd like he expected them to clear a path for him. Most of them did.
Serena shot me a bewildered glance. “Okay, since when does Jason Sheffield care about his reputation?”
I sighed. “It’s not that. I sort of didn’t tell him you were coming.”
The look on her face slid from bewilderment to reproach. “So he doesn’t know why I’m actually here? Oh, this is going to be fun.”
“I just couldn’t figure out how to tell him.”
“Well, you’d better think fast,” she said, falling into step next to me as I started after Jason.
“Did you really tell everyone we were in Vegas?”
She nodded. “Figured it was either that or say you had a pregnancy scare and ran away because you didn’t know which of them was the baby daddy.”
“Soap opera much?”
Serena shrugged. “We do live in Hemlock.”
Truer words had never been spoken. I shook my head. “Thanks for coming.”
“Are you kidding?” She grinned. “Denver is like the ultimate werewolf hot spot. I’ve been dying to check it out for years.”
We reached the stairs to the upper parking level. Jason was almost at the top. The set of his shoulders was stiff and he dangled Serena’s backpack by one strap, gripping the fabric so tightly that his hand shook.
“Jason?”
He kept walking.
I jogged up the stairs. Serena didn’t follow, trying to give us the illusion of privacy even though she’d hear every word. Werewolf hearing.
“Jason? Would you stop for a second?” I grabbed the other strap of the bag.
He turned and slipped off his shades with his other hand. His expression was carefully blank as he slid the glasses into his jacket pocket, but his eyes glinted like pieces of broken glass. The backpack dangled between us, each of us holding a strap like it was the prize in a tug-of-war. “You want to tell me why Serena’s here?”
I swallowed. “I thought she could help.”
“So you called her without telling me?”
“You like Serena,” I reminded him. “At least you used to.” The before you found out she was infected hung heavy and unspoken.
“Sure. For a—” He caught himself. “—for what she is, she’s great.” He ran a hand over the light stubble on his face. “That’s not the point. If you think Serena can help, fine, but you can’t get pissed about me meeting the Trackers without telling you and then call her behind my back.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“It’s exactly the same. You never trust anyone.”
The idea of being lectured about trust by Jason was so ridiculous that only the look on his face stopped me from laughing. “I trust people who deserve to be trusted.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Like Kyle? Leaving you a Dear John letter and slipping out before you woke up is really deserving of trust.” Almost at once, Jason realized he’d gone too far. His eyes widened and the expression on his face softened. He released his grip on the bag and it thudded against my legs. “Mac . . . I didn’t . . .”
I set the bag down and crossed my arms, using them like a shield even though the words had already hit. What Kyle had done, he had done to try and keep us all safe. That had to make it better, didn’t it? “It doesn’t matter,” I said, even though it did.
I glanced over my shoulder. Serena was at the top of the stairs. I sucked in a deep breath and turned back to Jason. “Serena’s here to help us find Kyle, but if we don’t have any luck by morning, the two of you are going home. I’ll stay here and keep looking, but you’re going back to Hemlock.”
“You’ve got to be joking.” Jason stared at me, incredulous. “I do one thing you don’t like and you want me gone?”