Tonight, when she’d hinted at the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her father, he had experienced a violent impulse no less savage than that which drove lycans. He wanted nothing more than to drive across town and beat the shit out of the bastard with his bare hands. For hurting Claire, for reducing her to a ghost that clung to shadows rather than stepping into the light, for failing to be the father he should have been, the kind that made her know how special she was. He took a curve a bit too fast, hugging the guardrail, his back right tire lifting.

Sitting rigidly beside him, she looked nervously between the road and him, as if expecting him to crash into the guardrail. Realizing how fast he was driving, he eased his foot off the accelerator. No sirens chased them. They were safe. For now.

He shook his head in disgust, thinking back to the two lycans. They mustn’t have been in the club. They carried themselves like predators, like lycans. The sight of them would have immediately put him on alert.

“I killed them both,” he spat out. His goal had been to keep a lycan alive for questioning. “Now we’ve got nothing.” She jumped beside him when he hit the steering wheel a second time.

This was going to be even harder than he had first thought. Their only lead was Lenny, a dead lycan. What could Gideon do? Go around town killing as many lycans as possible in hopes of nailing the right one? That would never save her in time.

He pulled his phone out and stared at the glowing face for a long moment, debating whether to put in the call. He had left two dead lycans behind. Questions would arise within the organization. Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he muttered another curse. Too bad. He couldn’t risk it. Not with Claire.

NODEAL could cope. He cringed, imagining Cooper on a rampage, searching for a rogue agent when he discovered two dead bodies with silver bullets lodged in the corpses. Two dead lycans and no one claiming the job. Cooper would go nuts.

“You okay?” he finally asked, glancing at her. She clutched the tatters of her halter top to her chest, her black satin bra peeking out. He forced his gaze back to the road, both disturbed and tantalized by the sight.

“Sure,” she said slowly, appearing to weigh his question. “I just had a werewolf—”

“Lycan,” he automatically corrected.

“Semantics,” Claire snapped, glaring at him before continuing. “I just had a werewolf try to rape me on the hood of a car, but I’m swell.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” he replied.

“Yeah, well, I’ll deal with this my way.” Her brow scrunched and this time her voice came out subdued when she asked, “Why did he say I wanted it?”