Skin Heat (20 page)

“You own the clinic, Ms. Harper?”

“I don’t own the building. I lease it. But yes, I run the place. I’m a veterinarian.” Being able to say that still gave her a quiet rush of pride; she had achieved it on her own, not only without support, but occasionally despite real resistance as well.

“Is business good?”

Her brows pulled together in a frown. “I’m not rolling in money, but we’re in the black, yes.”

Where was he going with this? Did he think she’d staged the break-in for insurance reasons and that girl caught her at it, so she’d killed her and stashed her in the trunk of a car? Surely not. There were far too many holes in that theory.

Hebert scrawled in his notebook some more. “I understand Mr. Noble works for you?”

Beside her, Zeke tensed.

“That’s right,” she said.

“And are you living together?” From his tone, he already knew the answer.

She almost said,
I don’t see what that has to do with anything.
But Zeke was quivering; leashed anger rolled off him in waves. Whatever her private doubts, however she’d felt last night—wondering how he could know there was a girl’s body in the trunk when she hadn’t been dead long—she wasn’t going to let Hebert make her feel ashamed, and she wouldn’t answer in a way to make him fear for his place in her life. Deliberately, she covered Zeke’s hand where it rested on his thigh, flipped it over, and laced her fingers through his. He seemed to take comfort in the contact and some of his intensity dialed back. She didn’t know if the agent had noticed Zeke’s near explosion, but he didn’t miss the intimacy of the gesture.

A low growl escaped Zeke. “Watch it.”

“I still have an apartment in town, but I can’t bring my work home. We’re caring for three orphaned kittens. Zeke offered to let me stay here for a while, so I wouldn’t have to spend the night at the clinic.”

“Given the break-in,” Hebert said, “it’s a good thing you weren’t there.”

She hadn’t even thought of that. Cold rolled through her. “Anyway, I’ve been staying here for about a month, I guess.”

Hebert nodded. “The rest of these questions are just routine, if you’ll bear with me a little longer.”

It took another half an hour to content the man with what they’d already told local law enforcement.
Never seen the car before. No, we don’t think it has anything to do with the break-in, but who knows for sure?

At the end, he said, “Thanks for your time and the coffee. I’ll be in touch if there’s anything further.”

Once he’d gone, a tense and peculiar mood fell between them. Zeke pulled his hand away and shoved to his feet. He didn’t look her in the eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“No,”
he snarled.

And he went out the door at a run.

As Hebert asked his questions, the air grew sour with Neva’s secret fear. She’d noticed the difference in what he’d told her and what he said to the agent. And he felt sick at the idea she thought he might be capable of . . . that.

True, they hadn’t been together long, and trust took time. But it raised a deeper issue. It meant she’d noticed his strangeness and that was the spin she’d put on it. She knew he was hiding something, and he would have to confide in her . . . or lose her. Which meant he’d lose her either way.

And so he ran from that certainty. He pounded over rough ground, ducking dry branches and feeling the wind on his face. There was no doubt in him anymore. Even in peak physical condition, he couldn’t have set this pace. Certainly couldn’t have sustained it. Zeke would bet if he timed himself, he’d break some records. Not that he intended to tell anyone.

Well . . . anyone but her.

If he didn’t at least try, though he had no idea how to convince her he wasn’t crazy, then he’d never forgive himself. It’d be the same as quitting on the best thing that had ever happened to him. But they couldn’t go on as they were. Her doubt would poison everything and then she’d make excuses not to see him.

Because he didn’t know what else to do and he needed to burn the anger out of his blood, he pushed on, long past sunset. He’d run miles by the time he stopped, breathing in ragged gulps. The stars rained light down through the naked tangle of branches overhead. Zeke turned his face upward and squeezed his eyes shut.

As if in answer, a howl sounded in the distance. Loneliness. He got a feeling from the sound. Not like the kittens. This was fierce and feral and hunted. The creature’s kin had been shot, probably for killing pets or chickens, and it was alone. No answering call came, and loss weighted the silence.

A normal person, realizing he was alone in the woods with a hungry beast, would run the other way. Instead Zeke focused on the otherness of it and jogged toward it. When he neared the creature, it didn’t flee. It stilled so that even its mind quieted, trying to determine if he was threat or prey.

He knelt in the dry leaves and dropped his hands between his knees. For the first time, he tried to use the odd link. Zeke sent an invitation, for one could not compel such creatures. Curiosity touched in response, layered with uncertainty.

And then a tawny coyote stepped out of the undergrowth. He had lighter fur beneath his chin and on his belly. Golden eyes gleamed in the dark. The animal paused some distance away, studying him. But he did not seem fearful or timid. Confused, maybe.

I get it,
Zeke thought.
What you smell is not what you see. Under the skin, you know I’m more like you.

Hesitantly the animal trotted closer, sniffing. When it got within touching distance, he held out a hand. Images washed through him. He saw the death of its loved ones and mourned as blood stained their fur. More confusion. Hunger. They were feelings more than thoughts, impressions wrapped around pictures.

Without considering what he did, he sent the invitation again, along with feelings of safety and belonging. The coyote let out a little yelp and fell in behind him. This time, when he ran, he wasn’t alone, and the joy in sharing the night replaced everything else.

It was very late by the time he remembered he wasn’t a coyote and that he had a woman waiting for him at home. He also didn’t know how to get rid of the animal now that he had him. He knew coyotes weren’t suitable pets. They
ate
people’s pets.

But he couldn’t bring himself to send the impulse that would drive it away, so he let it trot at his heels. There were no animals on the farm, he reasoned. Except the kittens, and he wouldn’t let the thing come into the house. But how to explain it—

It hit him then. This was a good thing, a way to show her, without starting at the
forget it, I’m not listening, you’re crazy
mile marker. Normal guys didn’t go out for a run and come home with a coyote.

He stopped as they reached the yard. The lights were on, at least, and her car was still in the drive. That reassured him until he realized she couldn’t leave. Not when it meant abandoning the kittens, her home was a mess, and the clinic was still wrecked. Basically she
had
to stay, which sapped his pleasure in finding her there.

The coyote whined, sensing his mood, and he sent a wave of reassurance, natural as breathing. A question flowed back to him—not words so much as a sense of
what’re we doing here?

“Taking a leap,” he said aloud. And then he called, “Neva!”

The cry echoed louder than he expected and the animal beside him cringed. Standing here beside him went against all its instincts. It had seen its family killed for venturing too close to someone else’s farm. Zeke aimed another wave of warmth at it.
Don’t run off just yet. I need you.
The coyote stood before the porch for long minutes, tense as a yard dog straining at its chain.

Finally she peeked out the front door. The hall light showed she was wearing one of his shirts and a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. She couldn’t be too mad at him if she’d gone rummaging through his clothes. He didn’t know why women did that, only how much he liked it.

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Did you bring home a dog?” She stepped out onto the porch. Then she took a closer look and seemed to realize what was standing in their yard. “Zeke, what did you do?”

He wouldn’t get a better lead. “Not what did I do. What
can
I do?”

“I don’t understand.”

He turned to the coyote, knelt down, and stared into its eyes, making it understand the importance of this. Then he sent the idea of pack, of safety and belonging, wrapped up in this female. The creature seemed none too convinced at first, cocking its head doubtfully. When he set his hand on its head, it yielded with a whine.

The animal slunk toward Neva, reluctantly overcoming its own nature because he begged it to. It lay down at her feet, trembling all the way. She bent, probably to check it for injuries, but she’d find it whole. Just terrified. Waves of it came off the creature and he felt bad for subjecting it to this.

“It acts like you’re influencing its behavior,” she said unsteadily.

“Exactly. Gonna let it go.”

Go on now. Thanks, little brother.
The coyote leapt to its feet and sprinted for the woods. The lure of freedom was far stronger than the whispers of pack he’d offered before, especially when coupled with a known threat. Neva wasn’t like him. Her kind hunted theirs.

Her bewilderment was obvious. He took her arm and drew her back into the house. She was cold. Once he’d shut the door, he headed for the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. He’d noticed that she ordered it pretty often at Armando’s. The chore also gave her time to process. He put the pan on the stove and added cocoa and sugar. By the time he’d finished making the drink, she looked less shocked. He poured the hot chocolate into two mugs and set hers on the table. She seemed thoughtful more than anything.

“Was that a longtime pet of yours?”

“No.”

A shuddering sigh escaped her. “Then you must have a story to tell.”

“Yep.” He paused, trying to think how to put it. It was impossible to look her in the face and see her loss of faith, so he busied himself at the sink. “Got . . . taken. Dunno by who or why. Spent six months locked up while they . . . did things to me.”

Her breath caught. “What things?”

“Bad.” He didn’t want to talk about it. But he had to. “Got out, along with some other folks. Six of us. But we were all . . . different when we left.”

There was no way she’d believe this, despite the coyote. How
could
she? He curled his hands into fists and leaned against the sink.

“Different, as in you have an affinity for animals,” she said softly.

God, he didn’t dare hope. He didn’t turn. It would kill him to see everything change between him, but how the hell could he expect her to accept this? He rubbed a hand over his chest, trying to soothe the pain building inside.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why you know what’s wrong with half my patients before I examine them.” She didn’t sound surprised.

“Yeah.”

“Zeke, look at me.”

Taking a deep breath, he did.

 

“ I believe you .”
She felt slightly insane for saying those words, but hadn’t she already known he was different? His strength, his hearing, his instincts around animals, his sense of smell all bore out the story.

And everyone knew he’d disappeared for months and nobody knew why. The part about him being locked up and people experimenting on him—that was the toughest to swallow. But how else to explain the unusual things he could do? The way he knew things he couldn’t possibly know. Like the dead girl in the trunk. If he had senses keen as a coyote, he might honestly have smelled the whispers of decomposition carried on the wind. Just as he’d claimed.

“Really?” He took a step back, bracing a hand on the counter behind him, as if he hadn’t expected that, and relief left him weak.

Or maybe she was reading too much into his reaction because she
wanted
him to care.

“Do you know their names? Maybe we could figure out what y’all had in common? Why they took you there?”

Anger flashed in his face, supplanting relief. “
No
. Soon as we got out of there, we ran. For our lives. Didn’t care why. Just wanted to be free.” He paced, his strides tight like the kitchen caged him.

“Are you worried they’ll find you again?”

The question hit him like a lash, and she was sorry she’d asked when she saw him flinch. His throat worked for a few seconds before he choked out a single word: “Yes.”

This was so far beyond anything she’d ever dealt with—Neva tried to ask logical questions, but maybe that wasn’t what he needed. “Have you thought about leaving Harper Creek, so they can’t?”

His blue eyes showed bleak, like a storm-tossed sea lashing an empty coastline. More secrets lurked there, toothed and threatening, like the broken mast of an ancient, sunken ship. “And go where? Do what?”

God, she didn’t like seeing him so hopeless. “I don’t know. Sometimes I’ve considered taking off myself.”

He mustered a hint of swagger, a smile curling the edges of his well-shaped mouth. Her gaze lingered on the pretty divot.
So kissable
. Lord help her, he was, even in pain, like this. Maybe especially in pain, because she was, by nature, a fixer, and wanted to kiss him better.

“Asking me to run away with you, Dr. Harper?”

She smiled back. “Maybe. Let’s keep the option open for the moment. But I’m here for you and I’m trying to understand what you went through. I’m . . . having a hard time with it.”

Zeke gave a jerky nod, as if it were nothing more than he’d expected. “Think I’m a freak?”

“I already knew you were special,” she said slowly. “I just didn’t know why.”