The Place I Belong (3 page)

“Stay!” Adam commanded as he opened the back of his SUV to find Trace standing in the nest of blood-stained blankets with an eager look on his face. He wanted to ease the dog out of the car so as not to reopen the wound. “Let me give you a hand, boy.” He put his arms under Trace’s belly before bracing himself to lift a hundred-plus pounds of dog and gently lower him to the river stones paving his driveway. “Heel.”

Trace took up position beside Adam’s left thigh and fixed his gaze on his master, awaiting the next command. Relief that his dog was all right overwhelmed Adam, and he knelt in front of the big black Shepherd, scratching him in all his favorite spots.

He’d bought Trace when he moved to his isolated home in Sanctuary, thinking the fearsome-looking creature would deter any would-be burglars. Much to his surprise, the dog had become
devoted to him, and Trace’s unwavering, nonjudgmental love had
worked its way into the darker corners of Adam’s soul, dispelling some of the bleakness he could no longer drown with alcohol.

“Thank God I didn’t lose you,” he said, burying his face in the dog’s thick ruff.

As he absorbed the comfort of Trace’s presence, Adam felt guilty about his initial abruptness toward Dr. Linden. He’d been so taken aback to encounter a pretty blonde who appeared to be about eighteen years old, rather than the confidence-inspiring bulk of Dr. Tim, that his manners had deserted him. Yes, he’d been upset about Trace, but that was no excuse for his behavior. He could keep his cool in a kitchen serving eighty demanding
customers a nine-course meal. Certainly, one female
veterinarian
shouldn’t be more than he could manage.

In his own defense, Dr. Linden hadn’t been especially cordial. However, when she focused on Trace, the concern on her face had quelled his irritation at her brusque manner toward him. It wasn’t treatment he was accustomed to, and he had to laugh at himself for being offended. “I’m getting swelled up with my own self-importance,” he said, ruffling Trace’s fur.

What had fascinated him were her strange moments of stillness, when she had simply stared at Trace. He had the sense the woman and the dog were communicating on some level he couldn’t access. It was eerie but comforting. When Dr. Linden said the dog wasn’t seriously injured, he had believed her.

Then all common sense had deserted him when he insisted the veterinarian allow Matt to spend the day with her. He put that down to sheer desperation. He had no idea how to handle the son he’d never heard of until four months ago, a son who didn’t want him as a father. Not that Adam blamed the boy for that.

However, until the private investigator he’d hired could find some other relative who might be a more capable parent, the two of them were forced to live with each other. He made every allowance for the boy’s grief and tried to draw him out about his mother’s death, even offering to find a trained grief counselor for him to talk with. That suggestion had been met with such blazing hostility he’d avoided the subject of Matt’s mother ever since.

All he asked was that his son follow the bare minimum of guidelines necessary for civilized behavior, but that appeared to be as impossible as cooking a perfect soufflé over a campfire. The boy’s room was a pigsty, but Adam had decided to cede that territory to Matt, simply closing the door when he couldn’t b
ear th
e chaos or the odor wafting from it. Only Sarah Duckworth, the live-in housekeeper he’d hired when Matt arrived, could bring temporary order to the chaos when she ventured in once a week.

Endangering Trace’s life was a whole different level of rebellion, though, one Adam would not tolerate. If he didn’t get satisfactory results from Matt’s day with Dr. Linden, he would be forced to take stronger measures. Steeling himself, he rose to his feet and walked up the wide shallow steps to his front door with Trace by his side. Pushing open the door, he grimaced as the blare of rap music assaulted his ears. Trace whimpered and laid his ears flat back on his head.

Adam strode across the living room to the media room, the most self-indulgent addition to the house he’d built on Two Creek Mountain. The lights were off, and a movie that appeared to involve nothing but four-letter words and car crashes was flashing across the wall-wide screen. Matt was sprawled in one of the forest-green plush chairs, his ratty red high-tops resting on the back of the seat in front of him, a bowl of popcorn spilling over into the chair beside him.

Adam hit the lights and the kill switch on the projection system at the same time.

A loud sigh emanated from his son’s prone form.

“Matt.”

His son didn’t move. “What?”

“I’d like you to look at Trace.”

Another loud sigh. Matt slowly lowered his feet and twisted around in his seat.

Adam considered forcing the boy to stand up and come to him but decided that was a battle he didn’t want to fight. He signaled Trace to accompany him to his son’s chair.

He stopped in front of the chair and regarded the child in it. It still gave him a shock to see those brilliant blue eyes in a face that otherwise was almost identical to his own when he was young. Although the attorney had offered a DNA test, Adam hadn’t needed it once he saw the boy. Matt’s face still held the roundness of pre-puberty, but the features were all Adam’s.

“Trace was shot,” Adam said, knowing the bright-green bandages made the wound appear more severe than it really was but wanting to impress Matt with the consequences of his actions. He was reassured when he saw Matt shift his gaze to the dog and flinch just enough so Adam caught it.

“The stupid dog wanted to go out,” Matt said.

“Trace doesn’t know he’s endangering his life by going outside. You do.”

Matt shrugged.

Adam released Trace from his side. The big dog lay down, putting his head on his paws with a whiff of a sigh. “Matt, I need to know you won’t let Trace out again without a leash until hunting season is over.”

“Fine. I won’t.”

“Thank you.” Adam leaned his hip against the back of
the chair in front of his son. “I’ve arranged an outing for you
tomorrow
.”

Matt just stared at him, those blue eyes compelling in their vividness.

“You’re going to spend the day with the veterinarian who treated Trace. You need to appreciate that animals are living beings who feel pain, just like a person.”

“I’ve got better things to do.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to postpone them. This is not negotiable.”
Especially since he’d already coerced Hannah into agreeing to it.

Matt hurled himself out of his chair and stalked out of the room, muttering. Adam picked out the words “asshole,” “jerk,” and “wanker,” before his son’s voice faded out of earshot.

He collapsed onto a chair and dropped his head into his hands.
He was going to have to make one heck of a lunch for
Dr. Linde
n.

Chapter 2

M
R.
B
OSCH AND
Matt are here.” Estelle’s voice came through the intercom.

Panic fluttered in Hannah’s chest as she closed the last of the patient records she’d been reading prior to her appointments, noting which animals were best kept away from an inexperienced teenager.

She slipped on her white coat and headed for the supply room where Sonya Woods was working. She’d briefed the veterinary technician on her temporary babysitting responsibilities already. Sticking her head in the door, she said, “You’re on.”

Sonya closed the cabinet door and “tsked” as she fell into step beside Hannah. “You didn’t flinch in the face of Slasher, the half-wolf, half-pit bull, but you’re terrified by a thirteen-year-
old boy
?”

“I’m not a kid person.”

“Kids are a lot like pets. They just want to be loved.”

“But they aren’t cute and furry,” Hannah said and opened the door to the reception area, waving Sonya through.

Adam Bosch stood in the middle of the room, his hand on the shoulder of a boy who clearly carried his genes. Except for the kid’s bright blue eyes. Hannah shifted her gaze back and forth between the two, noting the similarities and differences.
Matt McNall
y was going to be a heartbreaker when he lost the last traces of childhood roundness.

Adam had hit heartbreaker and gone beyond. His fathomless gaze and sensual mouth tugged at some primitive place deep inside her. At least he wasn’t pouring on the charm. A furrow between his black eyebrows indicated tension, and his free hand was clenched in a fist beside his thigh. The corners of his mouth turned upward, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were absent, so she didn’t believe the smile was real.

“Dr. Linden, this is my son, Matt. Matt, Dr. Linden.”

Hannah pasted on a nervous smile before she walked over to put out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Without hesitation, Matt shook it. “Nice to meet you too,
Dr. Linde
n.”

Surprise and relief chased each other across Adam’s face, and she saw him give his son’s shoulder an approving squeeze before he released it.

Hannah waved Sonya forward and introduced her. Matt’s eyes widened and a beet-red blush crept up his cheeks as Sonya shook hands with him. The vet tech had a long black braid,
huge brown eyes, and a smile that brought grown men to
t
heir knee
s.

Hannah allowed herself a little smirk of triumph at her spot-on calculation of the effect the gorgeous vet tech would have on a thirteen-year-old boy. She glanced at Adam to check his reaction and was disconcerted to find his gaze on her rather than the
dazzling
Sonya. She raised her eyebrows at him.

A dimple appeared in his cheek. “What time shall I bring lunch and for how many?” he asked.

Hannah was thrown off balance. “You mean you don’t just have take-out boxes we can stick in the refrigerator?”

His dimple disappeared into a mock frown. “I don’t fix the sort of lunch that can sit around for several hours. I’ll be delivering it fresh from the kitchen.”

“Oh. I guess for five of us. The thing is lunchtime has to be flexible. If you come at noon, we might still be tied up.”

“I’ll adjust.” He reached out and took her hand between both of his. “Thank you for doing this.”

The warmth and strength of his hands wrapped around hers drew her eyes downward. His skin appeared very tan in contrast to her pale wrist and once again she noted the crisscrossing lines of scars.

“An occupational hazard,” he said, somehow guessing her thoughts. “I play with knives.”

She tugged her hand out from between his and held it up to show him the three parallel welts across the back of it. “Ditto, except I play with lion cubs.”

“So not every animal succumbs to your charm like Trace?”

“Dogs are easy.”

He nodded toward his son who was smiling shyly at Sonya. “So are boys, given the right incentive.” The humor in his voice couldn’t quite conceal a touch of wistfulness.

“You only have seven more years before he grows out of being a teenager,” Hannah said, allowing herself to enjoy the banter just a bit.

His expression of horror was only half-pretense. “I’ll be locked in a padded cell long before then. Happily.”

The fact that she wanted him to take her hand again made Hannah pivot away sharply. “All right, let’s give Matt the grand tour before the patients come pouring in.”

Adam stepped back. “I’ll be here at noon.”

She nodded and watched him walk out the door, his stride long and relaxed. Only now did she notice he was dressed entirely in black again. She shrugged at the eccentricity and joined Matt. “Sonya, why don’t you show him a couple of the operating rooms and whatever else he might be interested in before you bring him to my office?” She lowered her gaze a few inches to meet Matt’s. “We’ll go over the patients I’m going to see before lunch so you’ll know what I’m dealing with.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Matt said.

At least the boy had nice manners.

“This is Matt. He’s observing today,” Hannah said to her fourth pet owner of the day.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” the boy said to Mrs. Lewis before he plunked himself down on the rolling stool Hannah used when she was sitting at the computer.

Hannah kept up a running commentary of what she was checking for on Mrs. Lewis’s calico cat, Binky. She slipped her stethoscope into her ears, just as Mrs. Lewis gave her a smile and jerked her head slightly in Matt’s direction.

Hannah glanced sideways without moving her head and caught him staring down at his smartphone as he tapped on the screen. Bringing her eyes back to her client, she mouthed, “Teenagers.”

Mrs. Lewis nodded with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I guess Binky’s brain tumor is going to turn him bright purple.”

Hannah stifled a spurt of laughter, but Matt didn’t even twitch.

“Yup, those giant lice are about eating the poor cat alive,” Mrs. Lewis said.

Hannah grinned as she reached for a prepped hypodermic. “Guess we’ll have to give him a vaccination to prevent magenta-spotted-if-you’re-happy-and-you-know-it disease.”

No response from Matt.

“This is his rabies vaccination,” Hannah said with a resigned sigh. She had a ten-minute break right after Binky, so she was going to be forced to have a chat with Matt about paying attention, a prospect that made her stomach clench.

“Good luck,” Mrs. Lewis said as Hannah helped her get Binky back into his carrier.

Hannah closed the door behind Mrs. Lewis and turned back to the boy. His cell phone was no longer visible. She gave him credit for good timing.

“Who’s the next patient?” Matt asked, a mask of polite interest on his face.

Hannah leaned back against the examining table and crossed her arms. “Who was the last patient?”

For a moment he looked like a deer in headlights. Then he gave her a smile that brought out a dimple exactly where his father’s was. “A cat.”

“Well, you got that right. What color was the cat?”

“Black?”

“Nice try. What game are you playing on your phone?”

The boy’s smile turned into defiance. “I wasn’t playing a game. I was texting the friend I was supposed to be hanging out with before my father made me come here.”

“Ah.” Now what was she supposed to say? Adam had forced his son to give up his Saturday for this visit, so Matt’s resentment didn’t surprise her. “Look, your relationship with your father is your own business. However, when you drag a helpless dog into your battle, it’s not okay. That’s why you’re here.”

She was relieved to see a flash of guilt in his expression before the defiance hardened again. “You call Trace helpless? He could kill you,” Matt said. “He was a police dog.”

“He’s helpless against a gun. When Trace is running through the woods, a hunter can’t tell the difference between him and
a bea
r.”

“So you think it’s okay to kill bears?”

Hannah recognized the attempt at diversion. “That’s not the issue. Trace is a domesticated animal. He trusts people; the bear knows to run away. How would you have felt if your father had found Trace’s dead body on the back porch?”

Matt wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Bad. I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.” He shrugged. “I thought my father was just making another stupid rule I had to follow.”

Every angle of his body spoke of loss and yearning, like a calf separated from its mother. Hannah had to keep her hands firmly tucked under her arms to fight off the urge to hug him. She was sure he’d be horrified if she did. She remembered Adam’s desperation and thought she’d throw in a plug for him. “Maybe you’re being unfair to your father. Maybe he’s only making rules to keep you and Trace safe.”

“Yeah, making the bed is a safety issue.” Sarcasm dripped from Matt’s voice.

“Well, you could strangle on your messy sheets. Or trip over them if they’re dragging on the floor. Maybe suffocate under a pillow.”

He shot her a glare of loathing.

“Lighten up,” she said. “I was joking.”

He hunched a shoulder.

“So have you paid any attention to what I’ve been doing all morning?” she asked.

“The first dog was a mutt named Ninja and it had hot spots. You gave it oral corticosteroids and Panalog.” Now he met her eyes in a challenge. “The second patient was a Persian cat with a sinus infection. Its name was Tartufo, which is the wrong nationality for that breed.”

“Not ‘it.’ The dog and the cat were both male so you refer to them as ‘he.’ These are living creatures with feelings just like yours. They can’t articulate them in language but they feel them all the same.” Still, she was impressed with his memory.

“I get it,” he said. “All creatures great and small. The Lord God made them all.”

The kid was quoting a hymn? Her surprise must have shown
in her face because Matt gave her a wry grimace that reminded her
of his father and said, “My mom and I went to Mass every Sunday.”

He had mentioned his mother. That seemed like a good sign in their relationship.
Whoa, girl!
The kid would go home at the end of the day, and she expected never to see him again. So, no relationship. “Okay, so we have another couple of hours before your dad brings lunch. Here’s my offer: you pay attention to the next two appointments because they’re the most interesting. Then you can sit in my office and play games or text or whatever on your phone until 11:40. After that, you’re with me again.”

“That’s a good deal,” Matt said, his expression lighting up with relief. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Lose the ‘ma’am.’ I’m not fooled by the pretty manners,” Hannah said, but she gave him a wink. “Keep the phone stowed out of sight or you’ll lose office privileges.”

Matt nodded, and his blue eyes crinkled at the corners, like Adam’s. Now that his surly façade had crumbled, he had his father’s charm without the years of polish. It must come naturally with the Bosch genes.