Wolver's Rescue (7 page)

“
Rats and bats,” she
muttered. “I’ve become a fucking freedom fighter for rats and
bats.” She slumped against the side of the container. “Everybody’s
free but me.”

That would change if she could make it
through the night in hiding. She inched herself around until her
nose caught the night breeze skimming through the space between
battered lid and bin. The smell wasn’t quite as awful there. She
could breathe and she could rest. She could use the time to think
and plan.

She needed to get to the house she’d
inherited upon the death of her parents. She needed food, clothing,
and money, but it would be daylight by the time she reached it and
she couldn’t be seen looking like this. Haven House was just a few
blocks away. Sister to Harbor House, the place across town where
she’d worked before she’d been taken away. Tommie had never been
there; knew the people only as voices on the phone, but knew they
would help her.

It was a place for the homeless to find
refuge and they asked few questions. She’d be able to shower, eat,
and perhaps trade her oversized clothing for something more
suitable. With the change in Stu’s pocket, she might even be able
to take the bus.

But all that would have to wait until she was
sure the coast was clear.

The moon had risen enough to shine its light
over the area within her sight. Though it gave no heat, its soft
glow warmed her. It always had. She raised her face to it as if she
could invite it into her dark and smelly lair.

She sensed more than heard movement that was
larger than rat. She shifted her eyes toward it and eased her
breathing.

She thought it was the animal from the
street, her canine savior. Under the glow of the moon, his shadow
was cast against the brick wall of the building and when Tommie
recognized it, her breath stuck in her throat. It wasn’t the animal
she expected. It couldn’t be. She closed her eyes and opened them
again. The apparition was still there.

Larger than life and clearly defined, the
shadow was an exact replica of the one that regularly flickered
through her dreams. It was the beast that lay at the root of her
mental illness.

Long ago, in the innocence of her childhood,
she’d thought that vision was her friend, her companion and
protector. Her imaginary friend was the reason she couldn’t get
lost. Her friend was the magical granter of her sharp eyesight and
acute hearing. She’d even believed it had saved her and her
mother’s life.

Later, when its voice became clearer, she
recognized it for what it was; a symptom of the schizophrenia that
had plagued her for most of her life. Seeing it there, manifested
against the wall, frightened her more than anything that had
happened over the last few months. It meant that whatever mental
stability she’d been able to maintain, was slipping away like sand
through her fingers.

“
Stay. Wait.
Good
.”

Well, of course the voice in her head would
say that. It recognized a fellow hallucination. The voice and the
shadow could keep each other company. They could talk to each
other, laugh and tell jokes. Maybe they could fall in love and run
away together to live happily ever after in someone else’s head.
There wasn’t room enough for all three of them in hers.

Tommie wanted to push the lid up and open and
run, run as fast and as far as her legs could carry her. But she
couldn’t run, could she? Her legs weren’t going to carry her
anywhere. She could only sit and watch her insanity grow.

The shadow animal raised its head, much as
she had done, and pointed its snout toward the sky as if to savor
the moonlight on its face. It was a wolf, standing tall and
majestic, much larger and fuller than the fleeting shadow of her
dream. She wondered if that was symptomatic of her growing
insanity. Would the voice in her head grow, too?

“
Good wolf. Strong. Like us.
Mate
,” the voice in her head
shouted.

Yep, question asked and answered.

As if it heard, the shadow turned, its head
disappearing into the shape of its body. All that remained was an
indistinct splotch of darkness against the wall. A chuff of
exasperation followed, distinct from the one echoing in her head. A
light flashed, so bright it was painful to her dilated eyes. She
shut them tightly and turned her head away from her peephole. They
flew open again when someone knocked on the dumpster lid as if it
was a real door.

“
Come on out, spitfire.
Don’t make me come in there after you. I’m tired and hungry and
more than a little pissed off. That’s not a combination you want to
mess with.”

Just her luck. The big guy was back. Tommie
pushed her shoulder against the lid. It opened and clanged shut
before she could move her body through. She tried again and failed.
The lid opened from the outside, exposing jean clad legs and a beat
up pair of western style boots. She crawled out, using her hands
and arms for support, her legs all but useless.

The big guy slid his hands under her armpits
and hoisted her to her feet. He picked something from her hair and
dangled it in front of her nose. Another wilted piece of
lettuce.

“
Not big on
vegetables.”

“
Very funny,” she wanted to
snap, but her body began to sway forward and she couldn’t stop
it.

He caught her again beneath her arms, but
instead of righting her, he only steadied her until he could
rearrange his hands’ positions and lift her into his arms. He
sniffed loudly.

“
Damn, spitfire. I thought
you smelled bad before. I was wrong. This is much worse. Gonna have
to start calling you Stinky.”

She was too exhausted to protest. His chest
was warm and she was cold. His size and strength were comforting.
Tommie slid her arms around his neck and allowed her body to melt
into his. Warmth and comfort. Just for a little while.

He walked with purpose and as if she weighed
next to nothing, which she knew she practically did. But even next
to nothing would become heavy after a while. It didn’t seem to
bother him. He just strode on and on. Once, he stopped abruptly and
muttered a curse as he stepped sideways into the shelter of a
doorway. Without thought, Tommie whimpered at the halt in his
steady and lulling gait.

“
Shh, baby, it’s all right,”
he whispered into her filthy hair. “They won’t see us. They won’t
hurt you. I won’t let them. I’ll take care of you and keep you
safe.”

“
Good. Strong. Like
us
,” the voice inside her murmured in
contentment.

And because Tommie was so, so tired, she
didn’t argue with man or voice.

They stopped one more time, just long enough
to retrieve the room key from beneath a rock. There was something
odd about that and she knew she should question it, but at the
moment, all she could handle was keeping herself upright where he’d
propped her against the motel wall. When he reached to lift her
back into his arms, she objected.

“
Thanks, but I’m okay now. I
can walk.” As long as she had the building to lean on.

He snorted a laugh and ignored the protest.
“Yeah, you can walk about as good as I can fly.”

He carried her into the room, kicked the door
closed behind them, and headed straight for the bath. He sat her on
the toilet lid and started the shower, then turned and reached for
the hem of her shirt to peel it off of her.

Tommie slapped at his hands. “Thanks for the
help, but you can leave now. I can bathe myself.”

He raised his hands. “Have it your way.” He
leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest and one
ankle over the other as if he had all the time in the world. “But
I’m not leaving.”

“
Why?” Couldn’t he see she’d
given up?

Apparently not.

“
Because if I leave, one of
two things will happen.” He nodded at the window. “If you’re faking
exhaustion like you did before, then the minute I leave, you’ll be
out the window again. Or if you aren’t faking it, you’ll collapse
in the shower and bash your head on the fixtures. Either way, I’ll
have another mess to clean up. I don’t like messes.”

“
You don’t like messes? What
do you call killing those two men?” she asked
incredulously.

“
Justice,” he said angrily,
“Or would you rather I left you to their tender care, because I
don’t think the big one was looking to play fetch with the bone he
was about to offer.”

Tommie lowered her eyes to the ground. “I
promise I won’t run and I’ll take a bath.”

“
Sure, because your word is
worth so much. Fool me once, little lady, shame on you. Fool me
twice? Shame on me. I’m staying right here and you...” He lifted
her chin with his finger. “...can have a bath after you rinse the
first layer of stench off. Otherwise it’ll be like bathing in a pig
sty.”

“
But...”

“
No buts except yours in
that tub. Now, we can do it the easy way, or we can do it the hard
way, but it’s gonna get done and I’m not leaving you to do it
alone. It’s not like I haven’t seen all there is to see.” He stood,
towering over her.

She didn’t need the reminder. “That wasn’t by
choice,” she whispered, looking up at him.

“
Oh, Jesus. I’m sor...” He
shook his head as if he’d made a mistake. Then his tone reverted to
hard. “Tough times, but not my problem.”

“
Bastard,” she
muttered.

He laughed. “Couldn’t be. It doesn’t work
that way, or didn’t Mama tell you about the birds and the bees,” he
said, which made no sense to Tommie, and then he spread his hands.
“So what’s it going to be? You taking it off or am I?”

In the end, it was the big guy who removed
her clothes and helped her into the shower. When she bent to remove
Stu’s trousers, she almost fell over. She couldn’t stand without
hanging onto something. Her legs shook with the effort. She
couldn’t lift her foot up over the edge of the tub and when he bent
to help she thought he’d lift the leg, but he slid his arm behind
her knees and lifted her whole body. It was humiliating to feel so
helpless, but so was smelling like a garbage dump.

She hissed when the warm water hit her.

Immediately, his hand went up to deflect the
flow. “Too hot?”

“
No, it feels good.” So
good, in fact, she would gladly sleep under the massaging heat for
the next twelve hours. “It’s been so long. Thanks for the help, but
I can handle it from here.”

She reached for the curtain and the privacy
it offered, but the twist of her body threw her fragile balance
off.

Again, his hand was there, supporting her
back. “I wasn’t kidding about that head bashing thing.” He gently
pushed her forward. “Put your hands against the wall.”

Once she was secure, he peeled his shirt up
over his head and unzipped his jeans.

“
Excuse me?” Tommie asked,
when she saw his intent, “I don’t think so. Or is embarrassing me
your idea of fun?”

“
If you’re embarrassed, it’s
your own damn fault. If you’d put that skinny ass of yours in here
the first time, you wouldn’t be having this problem.” The jeans
dropped to the floor.

Tommie’s eyes squinched shut and she turned
her head away, but not before she got a good view of the impressive
package the big guy carried.

The creature inside her made a funny, happy
sound and felt as if it was spinning inside her. It was a feeling
Tommie had never felt before and, oddly, it made her feel happy,
too. Granted, it was all part of her general craziness, but happy
crazy felt a helluva lot better than miserable crazy.

She felt him climb in behind her and draw the
curtain closed.

“
No funny business,” she
warned even as she arched her back with pleasure as he applied a
soapy cloth.

“
Who me? I’m a perfect
gentleman.”

Tommie was pretty sure he wasn’t, but his
warm hands caressing her shoulders made it hard to argue the point.
Still, she tried.

“
Bull,” she said with what
turned into a groan of pleasure as he ran the cloth over her
neck.

“
What?”

“
Bull,” she said a little
more emphatically.

“
What?” he asked again,
impatiently this time.

“
Bull,” she repeated, a
little louder.

He put his hands on her hips. “Look,
spitfire, I don’t know about you, but in my experience, when a
woman says my name, it’s usually followed up with a statement,
question, or sigh of pleasure. What’s it gonna be?”

Tommie raised her head and tried to look over
her shoulder. “Bull? Your name is Bull?”

He nodded. “Yep.” His hands left her
hips.

“
Bullshit.” She laughed to
cover her disappointment and sighed when the hands came back with a
newly soaped washcloth.

“
Referring to my being a
gentleman or my name?”

“
Both, I guess. I don’t
believe for a minute you’re a gentleman and what mother would name
a tiny little baby, Bull?”

She felt his shoulders shrug when he
laughed.

“
Hey, you know what they say
about if the shoe fits. I was always hung this way. Even my mother
was impressed.”

Damn, was that sick or what? There he was,
running his hands over a skinny-assed bag of bones and enjoying it.
He’d never had an interest in skinny, never believed in the adage
‘Anything over a mouthful was wasted’. Give him a nicely padded
rump and a pair of hefty tits and he was a happy wolver. He liked a
little jiggle and squish in his play. So why was his body
responding to the scrawny scarecrow standing in front of him with
her hands braced against the shower wall, legs spread, and ass
raised? She was weak, underfed, and so exhausted she could barely
stand and here he was, fantasizing about utilizing her position for
funny business. And who the hell said funny business anymore?