Part 55 (2/2)

Logan wanted to hurl a string of curses at his brother. But he ordered himself to hold on to his temper. Dragging in a deep breath, he let it out slowly, then said, ”Remember when we fought Boralas?”

”Of course. The thing was after me and Savannah.”

”Remember that we could see a woman helping us from the other side?”

Lance nodded, watching him with an intent expression.

Logan didn't like that look. ”What?” he growled.

”Nothing. Go on.”

”Well, Rinna saved my life.”

”Did something happen at the Castle that I don't know about?”

Logan's exasperation had reached boiling point. ”Jesus! You're not listening. I'm talking about last week. I was on an expedition gathering native plants that are going to be bulldozed. And I was running in the woods. In wolf form. Falcone had set a trap for her, but I walked into it-because it was tuned to catch a shape-s.h.i.+fter.”

”And Falcone is?” Lance asked, his voice maddeningly reasonable.

”He's one of the bigwigs on the council at Sun Acres. He went to school with Rinna, and he knew her psychic potential. He wants to control her. And he wants her to give him children who will run the city.”

Lance shook his head. ”Sorry, but you're losing me. Am I supposed to know about Sun Acres?”

Frustrated by his brother's lack of understanding, Logan could no longer hold his anger in check. He'd come here because Rinna had sent him to get help, and all Lance was doing was asking stupid questions. ”You son of a b.i.t.c.h. I'm trying to explain, but you're not listening.”

Lance raised his hand.

Even if the gesture was innocent, ingrained werewolf behavior took over. Through the generations, the men of the Marshall clan had fought for dominance among themselves. It was like a conditioned reflex, until their cousin Ross had proved to them that they could work together if they curbed their more aggressive impulses.

But Ross wasn't here now to act as a mediator between these two particular werewolves. And Logan saw the upraised hand as a threatening gesture. Raising his own hand, he hauled off and socked his brother on the jaw.

Lance snarled and struck out at him.

Logan reached out and pulled his brother off his feet, landing on the ground on top of him.

Neither one of them was crazed enough to go for the other's throat. But they rolled across the gra.s.sy area between the woods and the house, trading punches and howling at each other.

”Stop it!”

A sharp voice cut through the fog of battle, but neither one of them paid any attention-until a stream of icy cold water struck Logan in the face. Sputtering, he jerked his head up, searching for the source of the new enemy, ready to redirect his attack.

Lance got in one more punch before the water landed solidly in his face.

”Hey!”

They both looked toward the house, and saw Savannah, wearing a bathrobe and standing on the lawn, the garden hose in her hand.

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