Chapter Twenty-Seven

Claustrophobia sucked. Crawling through the ventilation system had not been her idea of fun, especially since small, enclosed spaces freaked her out. When the vent had turned upward, things had gotten very tight. There had been a moment when Amie wasn't sure she would be able to keep going. The walls of the ventilation tube had been pressing in on all sides and she'd had her hands trapped above her head. She had literally stopped breathing, the panic close to taking over. It had seemed like forever before she was able to push off of the wall and grab the edges of the tube and pull herself free. Her heart was racing and she was dripping sweat.

Amie still couldn't believe that she'd had to sneak out of the bunker like a mistress sneaking out of her lover's bedroom. Shit, it hadn't even been that idyllic. She was filthy, covered in dirt and sweat. She had a backpack tied around her ankle by the strap. She was about to steal some poor sap's car. And the worst thing was that she was still pissed. If Dean hadn't been such a gigantic ass, she wouldn't be in this situation. She should have been able to walk out the front door like a normal person. But instead she'd had to sneak out past a sleeping Dean and tie up poor Kevin. She should have known he would react the way he did. Overprotective and overbearing, that was Dean Winchester in a nutshell.

She had almost expected him to be sleeping on the floor in front of her door when she had quietly pulled it open, ready to tackle her to the ground before she could get anywhere. When he hadn't been there, she'd quickly pulled the door shut and relocked the deadbolt from the outside. She tiptoed down the hall, her boots in her hand. She had stopped in front of Dean's open door, listening for any sounds. The TV wasn't on and she couldn't hear any movement. She thought she heard a slight snore, so she peeked around the corner. He was sprawled across the bed, the book he'd been reading propped open on his chest. His long lashes lay against his cheek and his full lips were slightly parted. One leg hung off of the bed. His t-shirt had pulled up and she could see the tight muscles of his abdomen between the bottom of the t-shirt and the waistband of his shorts. She really would have liked to walk in there, wake him up and make him apologize. But she knew he wouldn't let her leave and she had to go.

Amie shook herself free of the memory. She reached down and pulled her backpack from the ventilation tube, quickly untying it from her ankle. She stood up, straightening her clothes and wiping the sweat from her face. She looked around trying to figure out exactly where she was. She had come out of the bunker in the middle of a dirt lot, trash strewn everywhere. She noticed an old Ford pick-up truck parked on the street and figured that would be as good as anything else she was going to get. She hurried over, mentally crossing her fingers that it would be unlocked. Older vehicles were much easier to hotwire and she didn't have a lot of time. The sooner she could get on the road, the better.

Amie yanked the door handle of the truck, smiling when it came open. She threw her bag on the seat and climbed in. She made quick work of the steering column, using the small screwdriver set she kept in her backpack. She ducked under the dash, pulled the wires and twisted them together. She grabbed the ignition wire and quickly tapped it against the other two wires. The truck's engine roared to life. She pumped the gas pedal, satisfied with the sounds she heard. She put the truck in first gear and quickly pulled onto the street. Hopefully, she would be in Nebraska in less than four hours. She pulled her phone from her bag so she could call Bill Washington to let him know she was on the way to kill the monster that took her family away from her.

Dean was right. Bill Washington was an idiot. First of all, he didn't even have firsthand information about the pureblood. He had literally stumbled onto the case when he had overheard a conversation between two other hunters in a bar while in Wyoming. He had raced to get to Nebraska ahead of them. Bill had done absolutely no research, so he had no idea what he was looking for. Amie had been in North Platte, Nebraska for all of five minutes when she realized the trail was rapidly growing cold. After a bit of research at the library and a quick visit to the police station, she had set out for the small town of Holdrege, an hour and a half to the west.

Unfortunately, Bill had followed her to the little bedroom community and taken the room right next to hers at the Welcome Inn. She'd managed to avoid too much conversation with him since they had arrived, but he had texted her five minutes ago to let her know he was coming over to "discuss strategy" and to make sure "she was decent, wink, wink." She was honestly beginning to think that part of this had all been a ploy to get her out alone on a hunt. Bill was a couple of years older than her and single, like most hunters. He had always been a little bit flirty—she'd had to fend off his advances before—but it seemed he had stepped it up a notch this time around.

Amie slammed her laptop closed when he knocked on her door. This was going to be painful. She braced herself for what was to come as she crossed the room to open the door.

Washington was leaning against the doorjamb, a toothpick dangling from his mouth. He smiled slowly, eyeing Amie up and down. Thank God she had taken extra care to cover up, aside from her usual pair of jeans and boots, she was wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck under her button up.

"Hiya, beautiful," he drawled in his nasally voice. "What's the word?"

Amie rolled her eyes and turned back toward the table. She really wished that it was Dean leaning in her doorway. If he hadn't been so difficult, they could be taking care of this together.

"There is no word, Bill. I'm trying to figure out who this pureblood werewolf is so I can go after it." She sat down at the table and reopened her laptop.

"You mean so we can go after it, right? Besides, aren't we gonna have to wait a while till there's another full moon?" Bill pulled out a chair and straddled it, his arms resting on the back.

Amie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Did this idiot not know anything about purebloods? "No, we won't have to wait. Purebloods can transform at any time. There doesn't have to be full moon. The closer they are in generations to the alpha, the better control they have. I have a couple of ideas as to who it might be, I just have to dig a little deeper."

Bill looked a bit flabbergasted. "I didn't know that," he stuttered. "How'd you find that out?"

"I hunted one with the Winchester brothers last year, in a college town in Michigan," Amie replied.

"You've worked with the Winchesters?" Bill asked, surprised. "Couple of damn fools if you ask me. Especially Dean, always rushing in without thinking, putting everybody around him in danger. He's a class act, that one. I can't believe you worked with 'em."

"Well, I did. Still do. And they aren't fools. They're the best hunters I know. And you couldn't be more wrong about Dean." She shot a glare at Bill. Funny how even when she was pissed off at him she still felt the need to defend Dean. Amie stood up and put on her jacket. "I'm going to check on a lead."

Bill quickly got up and crossed to the door, opening it for Amie. As she passed him, he grabbed her arm, his touch lingering too long for Amie's liking. "Let's grab a bite to eat while we're out. I'd love to spend some time just chatting and catching up." He dropped an obnoxious wink.

Amie shuddered inwardly and chose not to reply. She wished again that Dean had come with her.

Amie checked the magazine on her gun, assuring herself that she had loaded it with silver bullets. She stuck it back in her boot holster and scooted further down in the passenger seat of Bill's Chevy mini-van, trying to get comfortable. She took a sip of her large coffee, hoping the extra shot of espresso would help keep her awake. She glanced at Bill, sleeping in the driver's seat. She had shook him awake several times, but he kept falling back to sleep. He was worthless.

She turned back to watching the home of Randy Gibbons, Holdrege city councilman. They had been sitting there for two hours. Amie was starting to think that this lead was going nowhere. Maybe it was time to go back to the motel and start from scratch.

Just then, Councilman Gibbons came around the side of his house. He was wearing jeans and light jacket, a beanie pulled down over his ears. Amie sat up straighter, straining to see where he was going. When she realized he was headed away from the mini-van, she quietly opened the door and crossed the street, staying in the shadows. She ducked behind the large elm tree on the corner, watching Gibbons cross the street. She waited a couple of minutes, then she followed him, doing her best to keep him in her eyesight despite the darkness.

She almost lost Gibbons after he turned down a dark alley, but fortunately she caught a glimpse of his jacket as he went around the corner. Amie stopped to pull out her gun, the darkness setting her on edge. She waited again until Gibbons footsteps had almost completely faded before she continued. She crept forward slowly, staying close to the edge of the fence. After she'd gone about fifty yards down the alley, she noticed that Gibbons had stopped. Amie pushed herself against the fence and waited. He opened a gate and slipped through it.

Amie crept forward, barely making a sound. When she reached the gate that Gibbons had gone through, she peered through the slats of the wooden fence.

Gibbons was on his knees, his back to the fence. On the ground in front of him lay a deer, obviously dead, though Amie couldn't tell for how long. As she watched, Gibbons clawed hands shot forward, ripping into the deer's chest. He pulled the deer's heart to his mouth and began gnawing at it.

Amie switched off the safety on her gun and reached up to open the gate. Just as she pulled it open, a nasally voice came out of the dark.

"Jesus Christ, woman, what the hell are you doing?" Bill drawled loudly.

Gibbons shot to his feet, his yellow eyes landing on Amie. He growled, recognition flashing in his eyes. He stalked toward her, claws and fangs bared. Bill stepped in front of him, fumbling for his gun. Gibbons nonchalantly shoved him aside. Bill hit the fence and passed out.

Gibbons braced himself to attack. He nearly flew forward, his eyes focused on Amie. She could have sworn she heard it mutter the word "you" just before it left its feet. She brought her gun up, but it wasn't fast enough. Just seconds before attacking her, the pureblood was tackled from behind. His claws raked her thigh as he went past her, trying to grab her. She hit the ground, blood pouring from a deep cut on her leg. Gibbons threw whoever had tackled him across the yard into a large trash receptacle. Amie heard a familiar grunt. Her head shot up, the name flying from her lips.

"Dean?"