Rhys shoved his wallet back in his pocket and lifted the beer, saluting the blond with his bottle, since she seemed to be looking his way. "Cheers." He took a swig of the beer and waited to see if she'd return the salute.

She raised a brow, but didn't return the salute, instead just leaned closer. "What do you want with Duncan?"

It was his turn to arch a brow, and he wondered if she knew the guy. "I was told I could meet him here. We have a mutual friend."

"Oh, yeah' What friend?" she asked, lifting her own beer for a swallow, watching him.

"I'd rather not discuss it, except with him. No offense, Miss..." He trailed off, letting her fill in the blank, if she wanted.

"Duncan," she finished. "Kellie Duncan." She shook her head. "Why does everyone think I'm a guy?"

"Yeah, Duncan, that's what I..." He broke off, suddenly realizing she was who he'd been looking for. "You're Duncan?" he asked, almost incredulously.

"Kellie or Kel. You can call my dad Duncan, if you want to sound like his old Army buddies."

He looked her over again, this time looking her up and down. "You're a hunter?" he asked, dubiously. She was a looker - blond and blue-eyed with curves in all the right places - but a hunter" He was expecting something different; he was expecting a guy.

"No, I'm just here for the idiots to drool over," she snapped, sarcastically.

"What idiots?" He looked around for someone who might qualify as an idiot, but just saw a bunch of guys, most of them engrossed in baseball and beer.

"The ones that think I can't afford my own fucking beer."

"You got something against someone buying you a beer" You can buy me one. I won't object." He flashed a smile her way.

"When they are staring at my boobs and not my eyes, I have a problem with it."

He was taking a swig of beer when she said that and almost choked, making a mental note to try and keep his gaze at eye level.

"So, brass tacks, Rhys....I heard you may have heat on your trail. Could be the same heat that I am looking for. I have a place not far from here. We can park your cherry ride inside next to mine and discuss this away from here. Deal?" She wasn't smiling or even hinting at a joke, but did have a bit of concern when he choked. "You okay?"

He hadn't introduced himself yet and she apparently already knew his name. He waved her off and nodded his head, his reply coming out in a squeaky voice. "Yeah." Okay, so she was all business. No fooling around. He got it.

"You don't know what it's like being a woman in a world of this shit."

"I've got a feeling I'm gonna find out," he muttered.

"You want prissy, talk to my sister. So, you ready to go somewhere that information isn't sold?"

"Listen, honey, spare me the lecture, okay' I'm not drooling or staring at your rack." Not yet, anyway.

"Honey?" She snorted at that. "Did I introduce myself as anything other than Kellie or Kel, sport?"

"You mind if I finish my beer first' Money doesn't grow on trees, yanno."

She paused to consider. He wasn't a bad looking guy by her standards, at all. He was a little older, which didn't bother her. He was taller, broad shouldered, but not overly done, and he filled out the jeans nicely. "Sure, take your time."

He raised the beer in salute again. "Thank you." He took another long swallow. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

"Okay, so this is me," Kellie said pointing to a big, black Dodge. "You are going to follow me up to warehouse district, and when the door goes up, pull in beside me, okay?"

Rhys arched a brow at the Dodge, a little surprised at her choice in vehicles. Little girl, big truck. Go figure.

She caught his look. "What?"

"Nothing." He looked around, feeling a little paranoid again.

"Nothing" That look at my truck and nothing?" She looked around, wondering if he was feeling something. "You getting spooked?"

He didn't have any choice but to trust her, but somehow he wished it was Adam he was talking to and not a blond bombshell with a chip on her shoulder.

She stepped closer to him, not sure what he was feeling.

He turned back to find she had moved closer and he blinked in surprise, feeling more than a little awkward. "Can we just get going?"

"Yeah, sure. Just making sure you are okay."

She turned from him and hit the button on the remote to unlock the doors and turn on the lights to her truck.

It wasn't fear he was feeling exactly, but edgy, nervous, restless.

She heaved herself up into the driver's seat and rolled down the window. "Just follow me, okay?"

He had no remote as the car was a classic. "Yeah, okay." He went over to where he'd parked the Chevelle, got in, and started her up, flicking the lights on.

She looked at his car and smiled. She loved classics and made note of something for them to talk about, but she backed out, and in a few moments she was burning rubber and heading south down the highway back toward the city.

"Christ," he muttered as she pealed out, thinking she was showing off. He pulled out behind her, having no problem keeping up, but he didn't really want to get a ticket. He wasn't even supposed to be out of the state.

The sound of "Stranglehold" was heard coming from her truck. He didn't bother turning on the radio, since Ted Nugent was blaring from the Dodge already.

You remember the night that you left me You put me in my place Got you in a stranglehold now, baby You better cross your way

He had to admire her taste in music. So far, she seemed more guy than girl, and he found himself hoping she wasn't butch, not that it mattered. He wasn't really looking for romance, though he found himself smiling a little as he remembered the waitress' kiss. Ashley. He hoped she'd made it home okay. It was the first time anyone had kissed him since....he couldn't remember when. He assumed it had been with Riley, but he didn't want to think about that right now.

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner!" Kellie stepped away from the truck and his car, walking up the steps to an office with an old safe inside. "You are going to have to run about five hundred rounds through her before she feels really good, but she ain't going to break down on you." Kel was talking like he was following, but in case he wasn't, her voice carried nicely. Daughter of a drill instructor. She pulled the new case from within the safe and laid it on the desk with two boxes of ammo. "Here ya go."

Rhys followed, duffel in hand, up the stairs to the office, quietly watching while she went into the safe and pulled out the guncase and the ammo.

"Sorry, Rhys, set that down. I'll show ya upstairs to the rooms in a bit, unless you are tired" Is it okay that I call you Rhys?"

"I'm not supposed to carry a gun," he said as he set the duffel down and reached for the case, opening it and looking over the .45 that rested inside all shiny and new.

"And I don't want you falling prey to something cause you weren't carrying, okay' Tried and true, just like our grandpas carried on their hips in the great wars, I'm sure."

He heard her, but said nothing, picking the gun up from the case and holding it in his hand. It felt good there. It felt strangely familiar. It almost scared him just how right it felt. He noticed the selection of ammunition. "Silver bullets?"

"Yeah, what about them?"

"Lycans?"

Her lip curled. "I can't stand them. Especially werewolves."

He furrowed his brows as he thought about that a minute. He didn't share her hatred, didn't really hate anything, but he remembered reading something about werewolves in his journal earlier that day. He laid the .45 back in the case and closed it, feeling uneasy about the whole thing.

"I don't trust them. They tried to rip my head off, Rhys."

He looked up at her, arching both brows. "Let's hope that's not what we're dealing with then."

"I agree, but still, I have silver and regular ammo for you to carry."

"Better safe than sorry."

"I want you safe," she said quietly. "Like you can't outrun your past or something?"

He looked suddenly tired. He'd been driving for over six hours and hadn't stopped to take a break until he'd reached the meeting place. "You don't even know me," he said, wearily.

"Yeah, I know that. But, I just don't want you hurt, okay?"

"Don't worry about me." He paused a moment, and abruptly asked, "You know how to use a scissors?"

"Look, just cause you think no one does, there are people that care, you know?" She looked at him. "You want to di..." She stoppped and looked at him. "For what?"

"Adam says I'm too conspicuous." He let what she said go. He knew there were a few people who cared, though he doubted she was one of them. Nothing good ever seemed to come to anyone who got close to him. He'd learned that much. It was one of the reasons he'd changed his appearance in the first place. To keep people at a distance.

"Might I suggest losing some of the piercings, too?"

He smiled, a little amused by her suggestion. "Don't like them?"

"They really aren't you, Rhys."

"How do you know?"

"Mister Defensive, I'm just saying they don't look right on you. A thirty-something rebel" Sure, it works if you are eighteen."

"Everyone thinks they know me," he snapped. "I don't even know me." He no sooner got the words out of his mouth that he regretted them. He decided to change the subject. "You got some coffee or something?"

"Nice." She shook her head at his words. "I have beer, coffee, whatever you'd like."

"Yanno, Billy Idol is like fifty-five and he's still a rebel," he pointed out.

"That's Billy Idol. He's had motorcycle wrecks and done enough drugs to smoke the world. Even he lost more than the pierced ears."

"And I'm thirty-one. I'm not that old," he continued, as if he hadn't heard her.

"You are too old for all of the metal in your head."

He sighed, not wanting to argue about it anymore.

"I have razors in the bathroom and even picked up some guy-smelling soap. So, you can clean up. We shaving this hawk off or trimming it down to blend with the rest of your hair?"

"You want to give me a makeover tonight or can it wait until morning?" Because frankly, he was having trouble just standing up straight.

"Okay, okay....At least a shower?" She picked up his bag and started from the office toward another set of stairs.

He glared at her back. He wasn't a child or a girl, and tired or not, he had his pride. He wasn't going to let a girl carry his bag for him. He lunged forward and snatched the duffel out of her hand. "You double as a bell boy?"

"Hey, I was just trying to help you out. Jesus Christ."

"I can handle it. Christ, I'm not that tired."

"Carry your own shit. I knew you were tired." She stomped up the stairs.

He shoved the guncase and bullets into his bag and followed.

She stopped at the top of the stairs. Straight ahead was a bedroom. "Me," she said pointing at one bedroom and then another. "You." She pointed again. "Shared bathroom at the end of the hall. Both rooms have their own showers and stuff. Just haven't put the toilets in them yet." She turned and narrowed her eyes. "We good?"

"We're good."

"I don't know what I did to piss you off, but you should be able to get a good night's rest."

"You didn't..." He sighed and leaned against the wall, as if he needed to in order to remain standing. He frowned, suddenly feeling like a jerk. "Sorry, long day. I appreciate your help."

"Get some sleep. This place is wired hard core. Nothing is getting near or in without making enough noise to wake the state."

He wondered about that, but was too tired to argue. "I'm gonna take a shower." He continued up the stairs, squeezing past her.

"Okay, towels and things are in the cabinet. Razors are in the drawer." She moved out of his way, and did her best not to think about him in the shower.

He stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to face her. "Thanks. I mean it." And then he turned again and continued on to the bedroom she'd indicated would he his for the night or for however long he was staying.

"No problem."

Chicago, Illinois The Warehouse District May 2010... Rhys slept like a log, waking about mid-morning to find Kel snoring in the office and looking uncomfortable. She seemed somewhat surprised by his ability to make a decent breakfast. After working as a short-order cook in a diner for the last few months, it was something he could do in his sleep. He couldn't quite say the same thing about hunting. They talked a little, and he learned that she came from a family of hunters - father, brothers, uncle. It had apparently been a source of conflict between her parents, and they had eventually split, her mother taking one daughter and moving to Paris, while Kellie had stayed with her father. She seemed somewhat bitter about the whole thing, but Rhys understood that feeling all too well. After breakfast, she'd gone off to get dressed, leaving him to clean up the dishes and make an overdue phone call to Adam, who had a lot of explaining to do. "Why didn't you tell me Duncan is a girl?" was the first thing to come out of Rhys' mouth after Adam answered the phone. "You didn't ask," Adam replied. "That's bull shit and you know it." "What would you have done if I'd told you?" asked Adam. Rhys thought about that a moment. Adam had a point. If Rhys had known the hunter he was meeting at the bar was a woman, he would have argued and insisted on it being a man. It wasn't so much that he doubted her abilities or didn't trust her, as he just didn't want to put her in danger. White Knight Syndrome. Whatever you wanted to call it. Rhys had it bad. "Trust me, Rhys. She's good at what she does. More than good." "I don't doubt that, but..." "No buts. Try not to think of her as a girl. Try to think of her as a guy." "Yeah, right. Have you seen what she looks like?" "What about it?" "She's blond, for starters. And she's....Jesus Christ. How am I supposed to think of her as a guy when she's wearing a pink fuzzy bathrobe and slippers"!" "A pink fuzzy....What is it with you and women?" "What do you mean?" "That waitress in Iowa. She was checking you out. Did you get her number?"

"What' No!" Rhys argued. "I just gave her a ride."

"Did she kiss you?" Adam pressed further.

"Did you run that plate number yet?" Rhys asked, trying to change the subject.

"Partial plate number," Adam corrected. "She did, didn't she?"

"She was just being nice."

"Shit, man, girls don't kiss you just to be nice. She liked you."

"She was thanking me for the ride."

"Right. What's her name?"

There was a moment of silence before Rhys admitted, "Ashley."

"If you hadn't freaked out, you'd probably have gotten laid."

Rhys sighed in irritation. "I don't want to get laid."

"You don't want to get laid" Are you sick" Take a vow of celibacy' Saving yourself for marriage?" Adam taunted.

"No! Jesus....Did you set me up?"

"What do you mean?"

"Kellie....Did you set me up?"

"No! What the hell..." It was Adam's turn to huff. "Do you want to hear what I found out or not?"

"Yeah, okay....What did you find out, smart guy?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Rhys repeated, unsure he'd heard him right.

"I couldn't find any black Buick Centuries that match the partial plate. Not even close. Plate has to be stolen."

"What about the make and model?"

"It's like looking for a needle in a haystack. I need more to go on."

"So, we're back to square one." Rhys sighed. They were getting nowhere. "What now?"

"Now, you lay low for a few days and then head east."

"East....to Pennsylvania." He wasn't really sure why it was so damned important for him to go to Pennsylvania. "What about you?"

"I'm going to Arizona."

"What's in Arizona?"

"I need to check on something there."

"Does it have something to do with Riley?"

"No, it has to do with you." There was a slight pause before Adam continued, "Did you finish reading your journal yet?"

"Not yet."

"Before you leave for PA, finish it."

"Why?"

"Finish it and you'll know why."

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"Just read the god-damned journal, Rhys. You want answers? Your whole life is in there."

Rhys blew out a breath. "Fine, you win." He didn't really want to read any more of his journal. The first few pages were painful enough, but Adam was right. He could either live in ignorance for the rest of his life or find out the truth. Neither seemed like a very pleasant prospect.

"Don't go anywhere. I'll call you in a few days."

"Yes, Mother." The connection went dead, and Rhys muttered under his breath. "Jerk."