Лори Девоти - Amazon Queen

I took the opportunity to run myself, in the opposite direction. My business with the son wasn't over; I was tired of having him follow me around. And no matter what I decided to do with the high council's orders, that was going to stop. But I couldn't stop it now. The best I could do was get away before the trucker went through with his civic duty and called in the human authorities.

I circled around the restrooms, drawing curious stares from a couple getting out of a small RV. The man stared openly at me until the woman elbowed him in the gut. Fussing at each other, they continued walking and disappeared inside the building.

I cut across the grass and headed back to my car. The trucker was nowhere in sight, and there were now three cars parked in the semi area, making it impossible to say whether the son was still around or not.

I guessed, however, that he had left in whatever vehicle he'd arrived in.

I slipped into the Jeep and steered it toward the interstate, pulling the seat belt across me as I did. I'd gone maybe four miles and begun to relax when I caught sight of movement in the rearview mirror. Movement inside the Jeep.

A boot-clad foot appeared over the top of the back bench seat. I recognized it instantly-the son. I kept my hands on the wheel, maintained my speed, and basically didn't react at all, but my mind was spinning. We were in a stretch with no exits, making my only option to pull over onto the shoulder, but that wasn't the wisest choice either.

Some busybody Good Samaritan would surely spot us and either stop or dial 911.

At that moment I wished more than anything I had a talent for magic. Unfortunately, I needed direct physical contact with the son to do him any harm-or did I? His leg followed his foot. I waited until he was straddling the seat and then I slammed on the brakes.

The Jeep fishtailed, swerving sideways across two lanes. The seat belt cut into my shoulder and jerked me backward. The son flew forward, his body twisting, his legs hitting the roof before the rest of him collided with the passenger seat and he fell to the floor. Smoke curled around us, five years of tire tread left on the road.

A horn sounded behind me, long, hard, and angry. A pickup truck pulling a horse trailer barreled toward us. I punched the gas and shot the Jeep onto the shoulder. Once there, I slammed the vehicle into park, unsnapped my belt, and threw myself over the seat and onto the son.

I socked him in the jaw. He groaned. I hit him again and pulled back my arm for another swing. This time he reached up and grabbed my wrist.

"I told you I wasn't here to fight."

I twisted my arm, trying to break his hold. His eyes glimmered. "Back down or I shift. Do you really want to be stuck in a closed car with a forty-pound pissed-off wolverine? And trust me, I'm getting mighty pissed off."

His threat didn't bother me, but truth be told I was getting curious. I pulled back and sat on the edge of the middle seat, but I kept my attention on him, my body tense and ready to spring. Still on the floor, he stretched out his legs and studied me. After a second he held out one hand. "Truce?"

I ignored the overture, choosing to stare back at him instead. I was curious what he wanted if it wasn't to kill me, but I couldn't begin to think of a question. Then I had it. "How long have you been watching me and why?"

He studied me for a second, then gestured toward the front seat. "Why don't we get going before state patrol decides to check and see what the ten feet of skid marks you left back there are about?"

I must not have looked all that eager. He added, "You drive; I'll talk. We've still got an hour or more, plenty of time to get to know each other as well as you like." His voice lowered on the last.

I wasn't all that keen on being trapped in a car with him, but on the other hand, if he was with me, I knew what he was doing and he was right, sooner or later a trooper would wander along. I climbed into the front seat, placing my foot firmly on his gut in the process.

He didn't comment, didn't even grab my foot, just let out a slight grunt. Once I was in place, he wedged his body through the opening between the seats and levered his long frame in the space allowed between seat and dash.

"You could have come through the door," I said.

"And risk you peeling out over my foot? I don't think so." With another grunt he pulled on the seat adjustment and sent the thing whizzing backward.

I didn't bother responding. He was right; I would have. After checking my side mirror, I pulled back onto the interstate. When I glanced back at my uninvited guest, he was lounged against the passenger door looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

"Well?" I snapped.

He raised both brows.

"Talk." I whipped the Jeep into the left lane to pass a convoy of semis before a man in a sedan wearing a business suit and chatting on his phone could cut me off.

The son waited for me to get back in the right-hand lane. I frowned at him. "I can stop again."

"In the same manner? I don't know if your tires can take it."

I put on my turn signal.

He held up one hand. "Fine. I'm Jack Parker, your neighbor of five years and an Amazon son."

Sounded like a confession, like you'd hear at some twelve-step program. I waited to see if another confession was coming, but his lips were firmly closed.

"Five years?" I thought back to where I had been, what I had been five years ago. Two days ago I would have said exactly where I was now-but today's events had made me realize that wasn't true.

"Five years. That's when we got organized enough to assign sons to the safe camps," he explained.

"So all the safe camps have sons watching them?" This was information the council, if they still existed, would want to know.

He shrugged. "Of course. Don't think it will help you, though. The sons assigned to the camps are good. You won't find them unless they want to be found."

I glanced at him. "I found you."

"Not at your camp. I showed myself to you there. I didn't have to."

"You did if you wanted to steal the baby."

" Save . We saved the baby."

I concentrated on the road for a minute. I wasn't ready to talk about the baby just yet. I had to decide what I was going to do about my assignment, but not at this exact moment.

"So, you've been watching us. Why?"

He twisted in his seat, sinking down a little and playing with a pen he'd picked up from the floor. He flipped it over the knuckles of his right hand so quickly the motion was nothing but a blur.

"I was told to."

"Ha." I shook my head. "Who's the sheep?"

His fingers stilled. "I was told to, but I was given all the information. Then I thought about what I was doing, knew the consequences and believed in the cause."

"I believe in the cause." Not his cause, but the cause of the Amazons.

"Really. Tell me what you believe. Tell me what you want for your tribe."

What did I want? Survival, strength, happiness. . I shifted my hands on the steering wheel. "I'm not the one who's supposed to be talking; you are. Tell me how you got the baby, what else you know."

He held up the pen and waved it back and forth like a no you don't finger. "Bossy, aren't you? Of course, I knew that."

I suppressed a growl.

"The condor you saw. He knows the mother."

I let that compute.

"So she gave him her baby?" I asked. It was possible; not all Amazon mothers were as "motherly" as Mel. "Does he have the child now?" I was avoiding stating the baby's sex. I had been told it was a girl, but Mel claimed it was a boy. I'd like to hear this son confirm one or the other before offering it myself.

He smiled. "He may. Let's talk about you and the Amazons."