Burnt Blood: The Werewolf Within

Eighteen

I spun to walk away, feeling the pocket swing and hit my leg. It was hard, metal; I didn't reach for it. Instead, I continued as normal, full of dread with the note in the other pocket. The situation had an air of doom about it; who was this person so willing to help but delivered a warning to keep my mouth shut? We said our goodbyes and stepped out into the chilly night air.

A beep echoed in the dark street, followed by a flash of amber lights cutting through a slightly fallen mist. I'd called it right, Audi—a black sporty number with a long springy radio antenna. Surely, there was no way I was getting my hands on the steering wheel. So, assuming that would be the case, I headed for the passenger door, only to hear.

'Not so fast,'

A metal jingle rattles the air, and I look up just in time with the keys coming within inches of my face. I only understood if he wanted control over the situation. With me behind the wheel, my hands would be occupied. We swapped sides; the interior had a well-maintained freshness about it—jet black squeaky leather seats to go with the black interior.

The engine started with a powerful 3.2-litre rumble that shook my hackles to attention. I need clarification on why I would be trusted. Not that I'm a bad driver, just that... well, it's not normal.

"Right. Now man to blooming man. What the hell is going on? Why am I driving, and why must I keep my mouth shut? What are you hiding?"

If something was going to happen, it might as well be now—no point delaying the inevitable. I feel for the added weight in my pocket to see what Hannah had slipped me. Straight away, I realised it was a small revolver. The spin barrel type differs from what I used in service. But a straightforward 'click, point, shoot.' What Hannah was doing with such a thing was beyond me. I was.

Grateful; it takes a lot to go against someone you love. So, for Hannah to see a problem and try to help says a lot.

"Because it would be easier," Surprised. What did Mathew mean?

"Bullshit. Now tell me what you're up to. Your act isn't that convincing."

My words carried fire with them, yet Mathew didn't flinch. Instead, his goatee curved to form that slimy smile—typical overconfidence, and that's dangerous. He reclined his chair a few clicks and stretched his legs forward, sliding a hand into his jacket pocket.

"I don't know the way, do I? Be quicker if you drive. Anyway, I need to watch you. As for keeping your mouth closed, that was for the best. For the sake of dear old Hannah," Matthew was confusing me by the second.

"What, your fiancé? Why her sake?"

"You wouldn't want her getting hurt as well, would you?" Not the talk you'd expect. That one sentence had me frozen, mouth open, as I clutched the seatbelt.

"Sorry, what?"

"It was the van. My comment about you being seen in it. Considering you never told me what you drove,"

"It had me thinking, yes." Being trapped in a confined space with Mathew had me on edge. My hand hovered near the pocket. Was that even his name?

"That won't do you any good; I'd have a bullet in your skull before you could blink," The Irish tone of his voice came to the fore, thicker. His comment rattled my bones; my hand darted away.

"Who are you? Are you going to kill me?" I summoned the courage to ask. He slowly turned to face me, the smile still there but broader. There was a cockiness I didn't like. He had to be connected to those whom the doctor called, but how? An expectation I would turn to Hannah; how would those people even know she had been in my life? I'd kept her from everyone.

"This is bigger than you know; information is power, and we know everything. The lengths we go to would surprise you."

"What? Like getting engaged?"

"Exactly. Hannah is lovely and all, but her on-off job is more important. The access she has." He mocked with a menacing laugh; Hannah was being used because of her access to foster children, even if she was semi-out of it. I'd walked a child into their arms.

"Kids? How long had you been setting her up? How did you find out about me?"

"Months, background checks are thorough, connections in places you wouldn't believe. The dossiers my employers have on people of interest are unbelievable. I don't know how they knew you would come here; I got called to say you were on your way, but had some business to take care of."

"So, what's going to happen now? Did you know there were people at my house?"

"We are going to your house; we will keep calm and normal. Then I will make your death look like a suicide. Once you've killed your family, that is?" I didn't know what to say; I suddenly felt empty. A place meant to be safe has turned out to be anything but. My family was in trouble.

"Why? Why all this effort? Is my family dead already?"

"Highly likely. This effort is to make sure everything is as it should be. And that's quiet,"

I only had to think of my family and their position. How scared they were. It made my blood boil, feeling that terrifying thing within again, fighting to get to the fore. I had to think of something. He planned to kill me at home, so I had some time. Would I be able to get to him before a shot got fired? I tried to focus on the road; I kept looking out of the corner of my eye.

Watching him recline back in his chair, hand in his pocket, watching me. The look on his smug face sent a shiver down my spine. I thought of my claws, a picture of them tearing through his throat flesh. That's what I wanted to do. I had to play it smart and be careful. He wants the boy with them and for his people or employers. Use him or his blood being as he'd survived.

"Why the sad face? At least the boy is in good hands, right? So that's a win, an even bigger one when I let the family know the kid lives. They'll reward me for sure," he smiles, getting under my skin. It took everything I had not to crash the car. He didn't have his belt on and would go through the window.

"So, who are these people you work with?" I could see the cogs turning; he was deciding how much to tell me. After all, if he were going to kill me, it wouldn't matter what I knew, would it? His heart was steady; Mathew was too calm.

"Yeah, I'm not doing that. I'm not risking it. The people I work for always know. They have ways of sniffing out betrayal. I'm not saying shit. Other than family, and there's more than one."

More than one? My heart was pounding, but it wasn't only fear of him. We were heading into the unknown, and I didn't know if Angela and Rosalind would still be alive when we arrived. All I could do was pray.

"Come now, lad. You have the upper hand here. It's a fair way to go in silence, so you may as well talk a little. What can I do? Only one, what?"

"Have you not figured anything out yet? People in places you wouldn't imagine were a clue. Think how the Yanks do it."

I didn't look, focusing ahead, following the snake-like flow of red lights. How could I figure anything out? Every turn, there's been a problem or a dead body? What do the Yanks do? Other than legally carrying a gun.

"Come on, I'm tired. It's late, and I'm no good at guessing. No one will know unless your car has a bug. If that's the case, then they don't trust you. Your bosses have no faith in your ability to do the job."

I didn't mean to poke that way. Still, without thinking, I tried getting under Mathew's skin, playing him off against his employers and seeing how brave he was.

"Piss off. The family knows they can trust me. Shit,"

He cocked up, pressing a finger from his free hand to his mouth to be quiet. He said family, which made me think. Yanks and family gave me the idea of a mafia-type situation. Then I thought better of it; that stuff doesn't happen here. Mathew had been bugged, though.