A Shadow of Wings (2 page)

He turned his face away. 

Dylan came up to him with the dog glued to his side. He grinned. “Just like I thought. She’s a good girl. Most pits are sweethearts, if you just give ’em half a chance.” Then his grin faded. “Hey, man, you okay? You’re not afraid of dogs, are you?”

“No, it’s fine.” Cam forced a smile, his eyes carefully averted, wishing again he’d worn his dark glasses. “That was amazing. You really have a way with animals. No wonder you work for a vet.”

He gave a modest shrug. “I just clean the cages there, stock the drawers, run errands. Wanted to be a vet, but, you know, shit happens, or don’t.” He looked down at the quivering dog and sighed. “Now what do I do with you till the clinic opens, huh?”

The dog gazed up at him, and Cam could see one eye was swollen partially closed. In fact, she had multiple cuts and scrapes all over the poor thing. Her ears had nearly been bitten off—the source of the dripping blood—and not all the wounds were fresh. Some had scabbed and scarred over. She and cruelty were old companions. “She must have seen a lot of action.”

“More likely she was the bait dog. They use them so the fighting dogs can practice on them.” He reached down and stroked his fingers over the dog’s broad head. “Makes me sick. I’d like to…” He shook his head so his hair hung over his brows. “Well, I wish I knew how to fight. I wish I could’ve done what you did tonight. If you hadn’t come along when you did…”

“Don’t worry about it.” The fierceness in Dylan’s voice did strange things to Cam, like make him want to gaze at him with the same undying adoration the dog did. He dropped his attention back to the mutt and shrugged. “I’ve studied martial arts here and there, so it’s good practice when I get to try it out for real.”

“Black belt, huh? Cool.”

He tipped his head. “I could show you a few things, simple moves that could get you out of a situation like that. If you want.” Even while he knew what he was doing was wrong, Cam couldn’t keep the words from coming. Didn’t want to stop them.

Dylan nodded. “Might not be a bad idea. Wish I’d seen you in action. I was too busy holding my guts together. Bet you were better than Jackie Chan.” His gaze rolled over Cam in a way that brought Cam’s temperature up about a hundred degrees. Dylan reached to absently pet the dog again, and Cam noticed the other man’s hand shook. In fact, small tremors racked Dylan’s body. After-fight nerves, plus the guy had to be in pain.

“You look a little shaky. That’s not unusual,” Cam hurried to add when it was clear Dylan would deny it. “I should probably walk you back to, uh…” He let his voice trail off, hoping Dylan would fill in the blank and they’d have a few more minutes together.

“Uh, yeah. I can’t take the dog back to my apartment. They’re not allowed. I… Shit.” 

It was as if fate had given Cam a little shove in the back. “You could bring her to my place. It’s just a few blocks that way.” He jerked his thumb vaguely over his shoulder. 

“You wouldn’t mind? I mean, I’d be by to pick her up early, before eight. That’s when the clinic opens.”

“She can stay as long as she needs,” he said, stupid words pouring out like water. If Tash found out—
when
Tash found out—Cam would be dead meat. “Besides, you look like you need some patching up yourself.” Shoving down the insistent voice that said he shouldn’t touch, shouldn’t feel, he reached up and cupped Dylan’s bristly chin, turning his head toward the light. Not that he needed it. His night vision was as good as any owl’s, but he wanted to see the pale glow play over Dylan’s features. He felt the other man’s pulse racing beneath his fingertips. Blood crusted on Dylan’s lower lip. With a force that pushed a small huff of breath from Cam’s chest, the urge to lick it off, then suck softly on those lips left him shaken. And hard.

The dog growled and glared at Cam, startling them both back to the moment. Cam dropped his hand.

“Hey.” Dylan nudged the dog with his leg. “He helped save you too. Be nice.”

With a little whimper, the pit sat. Her body language—head lowered, muscles stiff—clearly said she didn’t like this situation one bit, but for Dylan’s sake, she’d go along with it. 

“She’s just being protective,” Cam said. “For what it’s worth, I approve. I think she deserves a good dinner. I’ve got some stuff in my fridge, or we can stop at the convenience store for a couple of cans of dog food.”

“You’re sure this is okay?” Dylan asked, looking at Cam again, whose brain had been totally fried from the simple act of touching the other man. 

“No problem at all,” he lied, and then he turned to lead his two strays home.

Chapter Two

Second bad idea of the day. Going home with a stranger after just having had his spleen handed to him by three other strangers. But seriously, did he have a choice? Yeah… Dylan could try to sneak the dog into his tiny apartment. Or he could call Dr. Martin, have her meet him at the clinic. She would. She’d done it before, once when he’d found a cat hit by the side of the road and once when he’d discovered a couple of puppies in a Dumpster. Those incidents had both happened on weekends, though, during the day. Waking up the good doctor close to midnight on a Thursday and dragging her out of a warm bed for a dog she’d just have to turn over to Animal Control to be destroyed probably wouldn’t earn Dylan any brownie points.

Besides…he had pretty good instincts, and something about this guy, Cam, had him curious. And that had nothing to do with the fact Cam was hot as fuck. Nothing at all. As he followed on Cam’s left, he noticed him scanning the streets. “Think those dudes will be back?” Dylan asked.

“Don’t know. How valuable do you think that dog is?”

“They won’t want her. She’s a throwaway.” Just like him; exactly why he couldn’t stand to see a stray abused. While they walked, he took the opportunity to study the kung fu master in the slightly better street light. “So, Cam…is that short for something?”

“Cameron.” He flicked him a glance, and Dylan’s breath hitched. Damn, the guy was flat-out smokin’ hot, and now he was also sure he heard a hint of an accent—Irish, Scottish, Australian, something—in that soft voice. What had this man of mystery been doing wandering around in such a dump of a street so late? 

“Were you, uh, looking for some cheap Mexican take-out or something?” When Cam looked at him—or more specifically, toward him—with his brows drawn, Dylan shrugged. “Just wondering why you were in the area. It’s not exactly a friendly neighborhood.”

“No reason,” Cam said evasively. “Lucky I was, though.”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine how to repay you.” Yes, he could. Down on his knees or bent over a chair… He hoped the way Cam had been eyeing him hadn’t just been his wishful thinking. You never knew. And he prayed Cam didn’t turn out to be some weirdo. Hardly a day went by that some creep didn’t proposition him. It was a side effect of living in a fucking lowlife area, but it was what he could afford, and he was lucky to have any job and a place to crash in this depressed area. More than once, he’d wondered if he should just stand on the corner with the rent boys and call it a day. It hadn’t come to that yet, but the way things were going… 

And now he had another mouth to feed, most likely, this fucking dog. Which meant he had to find a new place to live. Not only did his crappy rented room not allow pets, he wouldn’t risk the dog’s life keeping her there. He took his own life in his hands every time he walked up the stale-beer-smelling hallway and crept past the door of his shotgun-wielding neighbor, Jose. The old man, who parked himself in the hallway like a sentry, had threatened to blow his guts out more than once before just for coming in late, like it was any of his fucking business. 

Where did Cam Coburn live? If Cam’s building allowed pets, maybe Dylan could talk him into keeping the raggedy pit.

His mystery man turned to him. “Do you live nearby?”

“Down…” He really didn’t want to tell him he lived down the east end. “Downtown,” he hedged. “A little past downtown.” Way past, but close enough…

“And you work for a vet?”

“Yeah, part-time. I had a couple of dogs when I was a kid, always liked animals. I was lucky to get the job.” Lucky for him, Dr. Martin took pity on him, a strung-out street kid trying to get clean. 

Cam gazed at him sideways, probably trying to be discreet and not stare, but Dylan could imagine what he might be thinking. He knew he was a hot mess. Probably didn’t smell too good either. Part of him wanted to say
I wasn’t always this way
. Another part wanted to hold his head high and say
fuck it
. He
had
been this way for years now, longer than he wanted to think about. Now he kicked himself for even wondering if Cam might be interested in him. Stupid thought. He just felt sorry for Dylan. Oh well. Dylan could work that angle too.

The farther they walked from the crappy side of town into what Dylan would have once considered normal, the more out of place he felt. Catching his shabby reflection in a parked car’s side-view mirror, he could see a bruise blooming on the left side of his face. He ran his tongue over his newly chipped tooth again and swallowed down the stale taste of blood. Fuck. Guess he should be glad Cam didn’t ask him the same question, what he was doing in that area, because he’d be mortified to admit he’d been cutting across to the Chinese restaurant a block over. He’d gotten friendly with one of the girls behind the counter, and she slipped him free food if he got there near closing. It helped stretch his little paycheck.

He kept his chin up and stared straight ahead as they walked uptown, into a lot nicer area than where Dylan lived. Foot traffic got a little heavier as they entered the safer part of the city, and people gave him and his bloody dog a wide berth and curious stares. They actually weren’t more than a couple of miles from Dylan’s place, but it could be another world.

“It’s not far now,” Cam said, probably sensing his discomfort. “You doing okay? Want to sit down, have a rest?”

Dylan had been limping more, his ankle hurting where one of the jerks had stepped on it, but he shook his head. The steak-and-potato smells coming from the uptown restaurants, open late for the theater crowd, were driving him crazy, making his stomach growl. “It’s okay. Let’s just keep going.”

A few more blocks brought them to a turn onto a street lined with brick townhouses. Dylan died a little more inside when Cam led him up a short flight of steps to the heavy oak door of one of them. These were pricey homes. “You, uh, live here?” he asked, knowing even as he spoke that it was none of his damn business.

“My…family rents it.”

The slight hesitation he caught over the word
family
was soon forgotten when Cam unlocked the fancy door, and they walked inside, the dog close to Dylan’s heels. Both he and the dog stood staring for a few seconds at the shiny wood floors and leaded glass windows, inhaling the lemony air. “Nice,” he managed weakly. The pit groaned, then leaned heavily against his leg as if for moral support. He could empathize. They were both out of their element. “They live here with you?”

“Who?”

“Your family.”

“Oh, uh, no. My…brother lives does, though. He’s away until tomorrow.” Again the hesitation. Hmm. Actually looking a little embarrassed, Cam tipped his head. “C’mon, there’s the kitchen this way. You can both clean up. I’ve got a first aid kit under the kitchen sink. You sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”

“I’m sure.” Dylan nearly tripped over a long hallway rug, he was so busy checking the place out. No pictures on the walls. He half expected to see gold-framed portraits of sea captains or mutton-chopped bankers staring down at him. When he saw the homier kitchen with newspapers open on the table and a couple of dirty dishes in the sink, he felt better. The guy was human after all. 

Cam shoved aside some magazines and pulled out a chair by the counter for Dylan, who shook his head. “Dog first. I can wait.”

“Okay.” A little smile pressed one side of Cam’s mouth as he kept his eyes down, and it finally occurred to Dylan that maybe his new friend was shy. Maybe that was why he didn’t make much eye-contact. He seemed eager to please, finding rags and soap and antibiotic cream for his scruffy guests. As Cam squatted to check for stuff under the kitchen sink, Dylan got a better chance to check him out. Because of his build, he’d thought Cam was older than him, but now he saw Cam must be about the same age or maybe even a couple years younger, nineteen or twenty to Dylan’s twenty-three. His hair was shaggy, but it was styled that way, shorter in the back, longer in the front to hang over his eyes. The simple black T-shirt and jeans he wore looked pretty new. Maybe the lemon-fresh scent was the smell of money. 

And now Dylan smelled tomato sauce from whatever pasta Cam must have had for dinner. As Dylan’s stomach grumbled and his bones ached from the beating and sheer exhaustion, he pondered those rent boys again. Some of them had regulars, sugar daddies who kept them fed, clothed, took them on island vacations. Some even ended up living like kept mistresses in decent apartments. Cam was too young to want to keep a lover on the side, but hell… He was a rich kid with a nice house, and the way he kept looking Dylan up and down rekindled Dylan’s earlier instinct that Cam was interested in him. 

Could Dylan charm his way into Cam’s pants? Into his wallet? Into his fridge? Fuck, he was starving.

“I’ll get the dog something to eat,” Cam said, shoving his fingers through his hair, lifting it off his forehead. “I can hear her stomach growling.” 

Dylan forced a pained smile and nodded. He noticed again how Cam kept his eyes down, seemed reluctant to look at him directly.
Sheltered
rich kid? Whatever, he was cute and nice, and Dylan thanked whatever few lucky stars he had left that Cam had come his way tonight. 

With the dog and the medical supplies arranged around him, Dylan finally allowed himself to sink onto the chair. “Come here, baby,” he murmured to the dog. Poor thing. She wasn’t a young pup but not old either, just beat down by life.

As Dylan gently washed her face and ears with a cloth soaked in warm sudsy water, Cam came back with a plate of meatballs. “All I had,” he said with that same shy smile. “Do you think this is okay?”