eye. With that fancy, dust-coated label, it’d be worth a fortune on the black market. Wade would kill her, but it would also dilute her scent. Maybe. It wasn't like there was any soap around. Biting the lid, she unscrewed it, then poured the vodka into her cupped palm and washed herself all over, until her skin was dry and thirsty.
It wouldn’t be enough. Wargs had a fine sense of smell. Riley opened one of his packs and shimmied out of her shirt and shorts. She even swapped her own socks for his, though the boots she’d have to keep. Then she dragged an old, faded black shirt over her head. Wade’s scent surrounded her immediately. His jeans were another matter; he was a large man, and she was slender. Wrapping his belt around her waist twice, she tore another shirt into strips, rolled up the hems of his jeans, and tied the strips around her ankles loosely so the material wouldn't unroll. It would be warm outside now, but night was cold out here. She threw his heaviest wool sweater into her pack and looked around for anything else.
Nothing. She was as prepared as she was ever going to be.
And the clanking was getting nearer.
Dragging a crate into the center of the room, she reached up and eased the manhole open, peering out. The sunlight speared her eyes and she squinted, letting her vision adjust. There were two doors in the room below, but she wasn’t venturing further into Black River, even if Wade was standing out there waiting for her. Whatever was making that noise was something she didn’t want to run into.
Flipping aside the lid, she tossed the pack out and hauled herself up through the opening. The heat hit her immediately, shimmering on the hot sands. At least most of her skin was covered. She dragged another shirt out of the pack, wrapping it around her head and face. It would have been better if she’d worn white, but the heat wasn’t the worst danger out here. And white would stand out at night like the fluorescent globes in the room below.
There was no sign of Wade. No sign of any wargs. Only his footprints, leading away toward the back of the building.
She peered toward the fence ahead, toward Haven. Time to find out if her folks were still alive. The settlement was well-guarded, but the reivers had been packing a fair bit of heat. Hopefully, Jimmy had gotten there in time to warn them.
----
T he hot sun baked the back of his neck, his hat nestled low over his eyes. Ignoring the heat, Lucius peered through the sight on his rifle, watching the deer’s ears prick. It knew he was out here. Somewhere. It just didn’t know where.
He’d been tracking it for a mile. And keeping an eye out for warg tracks, but they were obviously tucked away after the previous night’s gorging. He’d found a rabbit carcass – or the remains of some fur and a paw, anyway. Clear tooth marks that showed a warg in full-shift, to someone with an experienced eye. He’d been tracking them for years, even before he’d been clawed up and turned. A few hairs on a scraggly tree, the stink of urine against a rock... But they didn’t come closer to Black River. They’d smell his own scent, find the body left out for the scavengers. Not much could kill a warg, and it’d make them wary.
Taking a deep breath, he let it out, smooth and slow. His finger eased over the trigger—
And a hint of darkness caught his peripheral vision. Lucius took his finger off the trigger, cursing under his breath. For a second, he thought it was a warg, but then he saw the sunlight gleaming off honey-blonde hair.
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered, staring at his prisoner. Or his ex -prisoner.
Riley slipped through the canyon far below him with impunity, some insane turban thing wrapped around her face and head, with her hair tumbling out beneath it. The pack over her shoulders was his. The rifle too. His shirt. His jeans. The bloody woman had somehow escaped her handcuffs, and stolen half his gear.
Lucius choked on a laugh. He’d