An Inner Fire (7 page)

Davis didn’t miss a thing. What could she tell him? His dog was transmitting fear signals, and she seemed to be the Bluetooth: the only network available to receive them.

“I’m fine. I really am, but no more martinis for this girl.” She hugged herself, trying to stop the cold shivers running up and down her body as if she had jumped into the icy waters of Lake Washington.

“Grayce isn’t the heaviest drinker. I remember a time in college…” James said.

“I’m fine, but I think I’d like a cup of tea before I drive home.”

Davis signaled their waitress. He ordered a tea for Grayce, a coffee for himself and when he gave James a questioning look, James said, “Oh, I think I’ll have something stronger. I’m a pedestrian. A Vodka tonic, please, extra lime.”

Mitzi leaned against Grayce, crowding her and making her edgy. Soothing Mitzi, she ran her hand along the dog’s chest, feeling the poodle’s warmth and her pulsing heartbeat. “Mitzi and I are a bit fey today, a woman’s prerogative.”

No one laughed at her attempted humor. A pall had descended on her bright evening.

James answered a call on his cell. “Darling, do you mind if I meet Edward? He sounds verklempt.”

She blew on the steaming mug. “No, no, go. I need to get going, too.”

She was glad not to have to run interference between the two men, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with Davis.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” James’ sideway stare indicated he was offering to help her ditch Davis.

“I’ll make sure Grayce gets to her car.” Davis said.

“Go ahead, James. I’m going to finish my tea before heading out.”

James stood and ran his hands through his dark hair totally aware of the striking picture he presented. He bent over to peck Grayce on the cheek. “So we’re on for Sunday? If we need to, we can head downtown to pick up a few things. How about eleven?”

“Let’s be realistic, two?” She asked.

“Oh, so bitchy! Okay, so I like to sleep in, especially when I have someone to sleep in with.”

Davis couldn’t miss the leer James gave him. Leaning toward James, Davis countered, “I’m an early riser.”

James laughed out loud, loving the sexual innuendo. Davis was holding his own with James, not easy for many straight men.

Grayce nodded to James. “I’ll see you on Sunday. Give my best to Edward.”

“
Au revoir, mon cherie
.”

James sauntered down First Avenue.

“An interesting guy.”

“James has been my good friend since high school. He isn’t usually so dramatic. He was playing to a new audience.”

“I wasn’t sure at first if I should be jealous.” Their eyes met again.

Her heart rate accelerated and then ran a trill as if she were going into atrial fibrillation. Davis’ deleterious effect on her calm and steady heart rate defied medical reasoning and made her wonder about the benefits of yoga. “I really need to go. It’s been a long week.”

Davis searched her face. Whatever he saw caused his eyes to soften. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to drive you home?”

She had no answer that Davis would like or understand.

Chapter Eleven

Blending in with all the other couples, Grayce and Davis walked with Mitzi toward her car. Dodging the crowds, their shoulders and hands brushed, except they weren’t like any other couple. They were witness and investigator, client and veterinarian.

“Where are you parked?”

“I’m up on Second, where my Dad and I had dinner.”

“You’re a Seattle girl?”

“Born and raised. What about you?”

“The same.”

She couldn’t shake the sense of dread that sat in her stomach like a lump of greasy fries from Dick’s. She had convinced herself that Mitzi’s fear in her office had been a result of her injury. After tonight’s bar scene, she knew she had been wrong.

“Where did you go to college?”

“University of Michigan.” She found Davis studying her. “Family tradition. How about you? Husky?”

“No, I did the East Coast thing. Brown.”

They continued to walk, side by side. Davis kept the conversation going. He appeared relaxed, but she knew different. His energy was tight, controlled.

“I looked at Brown’s medical school.”

“But you went to vet school?”

She sighed. “Yes, to my mother’s dismay. There it is, the red Subaru.” She dug in her oversized bag for her keys. “Thank you for walking me to my car.”

Davis hovered close, surrounding her with his jumpy energy. The man and his dog were definitely in the same state of agitation, and she couldn’t find her usual sense of calm with either of them.

She ran her hand along the dog’s head. “Thank you too, Mitzi. You are a great girl.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Grayce looked up. The heat in Davis’ stare surprised her. His face was flushed, the heightened color along his cheekbones made his eyes brighter. She didn’t know where to look. Her heart fluttered, sending a rush of heat through her body.

He stepped closer. She backed up against the car. “Grayce?” The pitch in his voice vibrated deeper.

The air held an electric charge. She could hear the cars moving down Second Avenue. A homeless woman huddled in a corner. A street vagrant drifted toward them, a desperate frenzy in his reddened eyes. Pinpricks raced down her skin. She fought the lull of Davis’ mesmerizing voice and eyes.

Mitzi growled.

Davis pulled on the lead. “Mitzi, it’s okay.”

The man continued, his amble slow, moving closer and closer. Violence radiated from him.

With her ears and tail pointed, the dog stood in attack mode.

“Spare change…for coffee?” Not the usual mumbling of the homeless but an imposing voice with a foreign cadence and accent.

The hairs on her neck and arms bristled. She widened her stance and rolled to the balls of her feet.

Mitzi strained on her leash.

Davis placed himself between Grayce and the advancing man.

“Move on.” Davis snarled.

Ignoring Davis’ threat, the man continued, now within arm’s reach.

Her senses keen, she could smell a clean pine scent.

The man charged with a primitive ferocity, a knife in his raised hand. Bright lights flashed on the metal. He swung the knife in an arc at Davis’ chest. Neither Davis nor Grayce had time to react.

Mitzi leapt through the air, emitting a hellish sound, hitting the attacker in the stomach and pushing him backwards. The man’s head struck the sidewalk. A terrible thud resounded, followed by the clanging of the metal knife hitting the sidewalk.

Mitzi, her teeth bared, stood over the unconscious man. She kept up an insistent growl, her body poised for another attack, her white teeth gleaming.

Davis scanned the area before he bent over the man. “Grayce, get in your car. Call 911, and then get the hell out of here.”

Ready to protest, Grayce swallowed the words and nodded in agreement. Her breathing was as choppy as her heart rate. Her body was primed for action, ready to do more than call 911. She wasn’t going home, and she definitely wasn’t leaving Davis and Mitzi.

She fumbled with the keys. Her hand shook when she unlocked the door. She took a slow deep breath after being safely seated in her car. She relocked the car doors and then dug through her purse, searching for her cell phone.

Her medical composure took over as she answered the dispatcher’s questions. Hyper-alert from the burst of adrenaline, she answered quickly, precisely. “Yes, Second Avenue and Bell… No, I’m not in danger. I’m in my car.”

The dispatcher continued his questioning.

“Yes, unprovoked.”

She focused. “My friend’s dog jumped on him…. Yes, hit his head…unconscious.”

She watched Davis feel for the man’s carotid pulse. The sirens started before she had answered all the questions.

“Yes, two police cruisers are arriving.”

In another flash of violence, two cruisers careened onto the sidewalk forming an angle, boxing the crime scene. Bright lights glared on the two men and dog, surrounding them in a ghostly halo. Davis, leaning over the bleeding man, Mitzi in a fierce attack position, both surrounded by an otherworldly light. Two hefty police officers jumped out of their cars, their guns drawn. Davis raised his hands in the air.

Sirens blared in the distance. With their weapons pointed down, the police officers approached Davis. Her blood pulsated, expanding, into the keyed up muscles, readying her for the newest threat.

A two-ton fire truck sped toward them on Second Avenue. The bleating of an aid car could be heard in the distance.

Davis didn’t move, but Grayce could see him conversing with the officers. Davis gave a shrug of his shoulders then produced his ID for the beefy, no-neck officer. With their guns holstered, the police spectacle slowed and the medical response began.

The ladder truck stopped, right in the middle of Second Avenue. A firefighter jumped out of the truck, medical kit in hand. By Davis’ wide grin, it was obvious he knew the man.

Grayce’s view of the assailant was blocked. She was about to leave her car when two firefighters joined the group.

Davis shook hands with the firefighters while the medics worked over the assailant. Mitzi and one police officer stood guard over the attacker, who appeared to have regained consciousness.

The evening had become a reunion of the fire department. Davis turned and walked toward her. His eyes were darkened with an emotion she couldn’t read. He was under a great strain, and it seemed to be directed at her.

Her heart did a weird run of flutters, then trills, a cacophony of irregular beats. She opened her door, unable to look away from his intense stare. He stood in front of the open car door. His massive form blocking the view.

“I told you to leave.” His words were loud and clipped.

“I really would like to get out.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m used to emergencies.” She looked up into his chiseled face and climbed out of the car. She slammed the door to make her point.

“This isn’t about an injured dog.” He swallowed hard. The muscles in his throat stretched rigid. “There is nothing for you to do.”

A charge of righteous anger raced to all her meridians. They stood toe-to-toe. Too close, but he wasn’t budging and neither was she. She stared at the black stubble on his jaw and the white texture of his skin.

“I want to make sure Mitzi and you are okay. He wanted to hurt you… I could feel….” She paused, aware of the assailant’s deep drive to kill.

“He’s a junkie; who knows what twisted thoughts he was having? It wasn’t personal. Here comes Officer Lewis. Get in your car. Go. I’ll take care of him.”

She understood his need to take control. He didn’t comprehend that she had the same drive. Women just didn’t pound their chests, stomp, and command anyone within close range. “I’m not leaving. I can answer questions.”

“I don’t want you to put yourself through this. I’ll call you tomorrow and give you all the details.”

“I’m not leaving.” She hadn’t meant to shout, but she refused to be bullied.

He pulled her close to his body and kissed her, not the hard demanding kiss she expected but quick, soft and yet shockingly intense. He ran his finger across her lips. “Your eyes give you away, Grayce. I see your worry. Mitzi and I are fine. Please, let me handle this.”

She wanted to respond, but he was already turning away.

“Lewis, she can’t tell you anything I can’t.”

Davis walked away, looking confident that he could get both Lewis and her to do as he ordered. Ewan Davis, warrior chief, would’ve been perfect in medieval Scotland.

The police officer planted his feet and pulled out his notebook. “All I need is contact information if anything comes up.”

“I’m happy to help in any way.”

“I’m sure you are.” The bulky man grinned. “Davis is in overdrive right now. This always happens. It’s the rush, pushing him to be the boss, to be the man.”

Grayce was embarrassed. The police officer had witnessed the battle between her and Davis. She wanted to tell Davis exactly what she thought of his domineering ways, but she’d wait until they were alone.

Chapter Twelve

Grayce arrived home in a daze, her intuitive system shut down, her sensitivity overloaded. She went to the refrigerator and reached for a can. Unlike many people who might reach for alcohol to soothe their distress, she reached for a Diet Coke. She tried to keep her addiction to one can a day. But there were days when resolve went right out the door. And tonight, after watching Davis almost get stabbed, was one of them.

She tapped her iPod, searching for her favorite Celtic singer and in seconds Enya’s soothing voice played in the background. Grayce settled on the couch, Diet Coke in hand. She longed for potato chips, but she refused to stock them for these moments of weakness. Napoleon snuggled against her feet. With the sound of the buzz of her phone, the gigantic Maine Coon jumped to the floor.