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"And in mine."

"Mine, too. Look, I'm sorry. Dumbass move. But it's good that it's there now, right?"

Gabriel grumbled under his breath.

"Get in your car," Ricky said. "Head out. I'll call you back in five." He paused. "No, wait, you need a weapon."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know, you never carry one. Speaking of dumbass moves..."

"I do not require--"

"Liv is in trouble. Don't pull that shit. You have a gun at your office, right?"

The vision of Peter and Carl flashed, and Gabriel's stomach clenched. "No."

"Bullshit. Get the gun. Get in your car. By that time, I'll have an address for you."

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

When I woke, something constricted my chest so tightly I could barely breathe. My shirt was unbuttoned, and underneath my bra was a tightly wound strip of cloth.

"You're lucky she's a lousy shot," a voice said. "Or you're just good at dodging bullets."

I knew that voice. Sadly, it wasn't the one I'd hoped for.

I turned to the Huntsman, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He was nearly as big as Gabriel. Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. Light brown hair and beard. Looking mid-thirties. That sense of wrongness he'd emanated in the forest was gone. Here, he looked and "felt" like an ordinary guy.

Yeah, an ordinary guy who tortured a hound and could knock me out with a psychic blow.

"I did not torture the hound," he said.

Right, also mind reading. I needed to keep my thoughts muddled.

"The hound was broken when she came to me," he said. "They broke her. Her pack. I healed her."

"It wasn't her pack," I said. "It was an encounter with some creature she didn't recognize. It killed her brothers and sister and left her maimed."

"How do you--?"

"She told me everything. You found her. You tried to bribe her with food, and when that didn't work, you captured her."

"I healed her."

"You abused her."

"I never raised a hand--"

"You treated her like a dog."

"She's a cwn. She serves--"

"You serve each other. That's how it works. At least with real Cwn Annwn."

His face went taut, and he rocked forward as if he'd like to use that psychic TKO on me again. I wasn't bound, though, and the door was half open. This wasn't a hostage situation anymore. Or he wanted me to think it wasn't.

I gritted my teeth against the pain and rose to my feet.


Tags: Kelley Armstrong Cainsville Fantasy