Call of the Wilds (4 page)

 
A brief awkward silence followed. At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

“I’ll be back.”

Her eyes rolled at the flawless imitation of the Terminator. His lame attempt to diffuse the tension didn't fly with her. She didn’t relax until he walked out the door. The few remaining men followed, and she was alone with the tall, silent stranger. They stood like actors posed in a frozen tableau, waiting for scene direction.

“I’m really—”

“I’m sorry—”

They both spoke at the same time and then laughed.

“Ladies first,” he said gallantly.

“I’m sorry you got caught up in this. The sheriff’s been under a lot of pressure lately.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him. We don’t always see eye to eye. I’m not a hunter.”

Her heart leaped. She’d been wrong. He wasn’t like the others. A twinge of disappoint followed. He’d only been protecting the wolf, not her. What was wrong with her? She should be glad, not jealous. “I better take a look at your nose.”

He followed her through a door behind the counter into a narrow hallway. On the right were the treatment facilities where she had quarantined the wolf. She led him to the left, through her office and into an adjoining bathroom.

“Sit.”

He perched on the toilet seat, and she leaned into him. In an awkward position, his knees were in the way. He parted his legs and looked up at her with that devastating grin. She tensed up and tried to focus on his nose.

“It’s a wonder you can still smile.”

“I’m sure it looks worse than it is.”

“We’ll see.” Summoning her courage, she stepped between his thighs, acutely aware of invading his comfort zone, not to mention her own. His body heat surrounded her, and her mouth went dry.

“Hey, doc, everything okay?” The honest concern in his voice brought her back to reality.

“Keep still and I’ll try not to hurt you.” She took a deep breath, cupped his chin, and tilted his head up. The puffiness and dried blood didn’t detract one bit from his masculine good looks. Somehow it gave him just the right combination of vulnerability and bad-ass that made him seem less fearsome and more attractive. Shaggy dark brown hair in need of a cutting framed a weather-beaten face long overdue for a shave. The stubble only made him look sexier. She couldn’t help grazing it with her thumb. The prickly sensation sent electric tingles through her hand. She pulled it away as if she’d been stung by a bee.

They exchanged a quick glance, but she broke eye contact. His dark stare unnerved her. She might drown in those eyes if she looked too long. Her cheeks grew hot, and her body hotter. She turned to wet a cloth, wishing she could use it to cool off her heated face. Instead, she wiped away the blood on his face. His slightly misshapen nose looked much the same as it did before the fight, maybe a little swollen. He didn’t move a muscle when she pressed on it.

“Is it tender? Any trouble breathing?”

“No and no. It’s okay, really.”

“Hey, who’s the doctor here?” Funny. It really did seem to be okay. She could have sworn Jude had broken it. “The bleeding stopped already, and I don’t think it’s broken.”

“I told you.”

“Let’s try to get the swelling down. I’ll be right back.”

She pulled an ice pack from a small fridge in her office, took a minute to press it against her heated cheek, and walked back to her patient.

Supporting the back of his head with one hand, she held the pack over his nose with the other. She liked the way his hair felt in her hand, and she suppressed a sudden urge to run her fingers through the thick strands.

“I might take a punch more often,” he mumbled.

Pursing her lips, she lifted a brow. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Here, hold this.” She grabbed his hand and put it on the pack. She needed to back off. She enjoyed putting her hands on him way too much.

“Ohh, it hurts. I just don’t have your gentle touch, doc.”

“Faker.” It felt good to laugh. It came easily with him. She leaned back against the sink and studied him.

“Do you make a habit of this?”

“Getting my face rearranged?”

“Rescuing damsels in distress.”

“She’s caged. That’s an unfair advantage in my book.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. It was all about the wolf. She’d been stupid to think otherwise.

“Besides, Jude’s bigger than you, doc, and I don’t like bullies.” His eyes twinkled, and his mischievous grin made her pulse quicken. “And I hear the good guy always gets the girl.”

Oh shit. Now she was flustered, flushed, and for once, at a loss for words. Who was this man who could throw her off balance so easily? She sucked in a breath to get her emotions under control. “I appreciate the thought, but you should have let the law handle it.”

“Who? Quick Draw McGraw?” He snorted.

She guffawed at the picture of a horse wearing Frank’s Stetson. “No, actually I was thinking of Baba Looey. Deputy Donkey is pretty quick with his gun.”

“That horse’s ass.” They both cracked up. “So you remember Quick Draw? How old are you anyway?” He lifted a brow.

“Old enough,” she shot back. “And I like to watch reruns.” Personal questions were off limits. Playtime was definitely over. “Well, I think you’re good to go. Put ice on it every fifteen minutes and take some Tylenol. It’ll be bruised and sore, but you’ll live.”

“Thanks, doc.” He stood and threw the pack in the sink.

“Wait.”

He turned, surprise showing on his face.

“Stop by tomorrow.” She bit her lip. “We should probably take an X-ray when the swelling goes down. Just to make sure.”

“I’ll be fine.” A guarded look came over his face. “I’m a fast healer.”

“Well, if you have any problems, you know where to find me.” Why was she so disappointed? She chided herself for being a fool.

Men are all the same, only interested in one thing. Just because some stranger rescues you from a bad situation doesn’t make him your white knight.
Heroes only exist in paperback novels.

Chapter Five

Karin threw herself into work. She didn’t want to think about the fight. It conjured up bad memories, memories she vowed to put to rest when she moved to Black Wolf. She wanted to surround herself with animals, not people, but some things she couldn’t run from. Human interaction was one of them. Wherever she went there would be good people, bad people, and every shade in between. Avoiding them wasn’t the answer, especially with Jude. If she let him see her fear, he’d use it to his advantage.

 
As much as she enjoyed seeing him bested, she had no doubt his desire for revenge would make him more of a threat than ever. Malcolm was a strong fighter. She had the distinct impression he held back, that he could have broken Frank’s restraint easily. Still, she worried about him. He might be able to take care of himself, but Jude was a dangerous enemy who would not fight fair. Worrying about a man she barely knew wasn’t smart, so she concentrated on work instead.

It didn’t help her mood that the black wolf growled whenever she neared the cage. She’d already been through a lot, and if she caught wind of the chaos this morning it probably made her even more anxious. The traumatized wolf needed time to calm down. Convinced the animal was just skittish, Karin tended to her needs and then left her alone. Finally, she had enough and decided to call it a day. Just as well. Walking home in the dark had little appeal.

A tiny one-bedroom cabin came with her position. Frank had someone repair the roof and refit the small galley kitchen before she arrived. The plumbing was noisy and the eccentric second-hand furniture falling apart, but she didn’t have the luxury of a nice house in town like the previous manager, so for now she called it home.

Dinner consisted of a can of soup and a cheese sandwich. She sprawled across the ratty couch, and her thoughts ran wild. She couldn’t shake the image of Jude brandishing a knife. Equally disturbing was the picture of Frank restraining Malcolm. He’d been out for blood just as surely as Jude. All that anger. It was a side of Frank she never saw before, and she hoped to never see again. It made her head ache and her eyes heavy. She gave in to the temptation of sleep.

Karin picked her way between fast food containers, beer cans, and used syringes littering the inner-city block she called home. None of it bothered her.
Her apartment was cheap and within walking distance of the veterinary clinic. She could see the downtown skyline, and two blocks away an affluent young attorney had just rehabilitated a house, the start of gentrification. Someday she wouldn’t be able to afford anything in this neighborhood.
She felt safe enough to work a
double shift at the clinic. It paid well, and she saved every penny, hoping to open her own practice.

The few working street lights cast eerie shadows, and heavy mist hovered like something out of a Dracula movie. Her back to the street, she fumbled in her bag for the key.

Without warning, a muscular arm snagged her from behind and pinned her to a hard chest. She felt the sharp edge of a knife at her throat.

“One scream and you’re dead, bitch.”

“Take my bag.” Please, dear God, no. This happened to other people, not her. “There’s a little money. Don’t hurt me. Please.”

“Keep your mouth shut, and I won’t.” He pulled her into the alley, shoved her to the ground, and straddled her body.

A high blow to her stomach cut off her scream. Her breath escaped in a whuff. Panic mounted, and she couldn’t get enough air. One deep gulp and agony pierced her chest.

“P
lease. Don’t do this…”

“Shut up.” He punched her, and she tasted blood. “Just do what I tell you.” He raised the knife, his eyes cold and ruthless. She’d never felt so helpless and out of control. He grabbed the neck of her sweater and cut it, slicing her chest at the same time. She heard footsteps.

“Fuck!” he muttered. “I’ll be back, bitch.”

She woke before dawn screaming and covered with sweat. The vivid images swirled in her head, so real she could still feel the blade pressed against her throat. The terror and anxiety she worked so hard to put behind her came back with a vengeance, and this time, the face looming over her was Jude’s.

The attack left her with a scar on her upper left chest, a small reminder of how fleeting life can be. She rubbed it with a thumb. Her assailant left a deeper scar on her psyche.

She shook off the bad vibes that lingered from the nightmare. She’d come a long way since the attack, and she wasn’t about to let some small town bully set her back to square one. A hot shower eased her stiff muscles. All her T-shirts, white with Black Wolf Wildlife Refuge printed across the front, were in a tangled heap in the laundry basket. She dug through the pile of dirty clothes for a shirt clean enough to wear. The wolves weren’t picky.

She paused. What if her white knight decided to come back today? Suddenly yesterday’s T-shirt wasn’t good enough. Instead, she chose a gauzy pink top with a square neck and elasticized puff sleeves. Her newest pair of jeans, the ones that made her look slimmer, completed the outfit. She surveyed herself in the mirror. The new clothes weren’t totally for Malcolm’s benefit. They made her feel better, more confident. She would not be disappointed if he didn’t come back. At least that’s what she told herself.

She planned to walk off any residual doom and gloom. It was almost a letdown to see the Mule parked outside the door. She hated to drive, probably because she hadn’t done much of it. In Philadelphia, the horrendous traffic, high price of gas, and lack of parking discouraged car ownership. Driving in Black Wolf had its own set of problems, starting with the terrain and ending with the ATV itself. But there were no buses in Black Wolf, and if she had an emergency, she needed transportation close at hand.