River Wolf (3 page)

T
he last hours
of her internment flew past as she cleaned and prepped the empty rooms for future patients. One by one, she filled out the checklist for Miranda. Twice, Miranda swept through the rooms behind her and signed off on their prep. She’d finished her melted strawberry shake and ate her cold burger during a fast thirty minute lunch, abbreviated by an emergency that pulled all hands on deck. Running, Colby fetched fresh bandages and supplies for the patient who ripped their stitches. On another occasion, she sat with the husband of an elderly woman when they called a code. The octogenarian worried her with his trembling hands and racing heart rate. Holding his hand, she spoke to him as calmly as she could manage and explained every step the team took to help his wife.

Thank God they saved the woman and her heart rate returned to normal. A surgeon came out and, when he began to report that the old woman needed surgery, the husband latched onto Colby and wouldn’t let her leave. Miranda nodded to her when they wheeled his wife to surgery, so Colby stayed with him. For last four hours of her shift, she chatted with him and kept him calm. When she worried about his pallor and fussed at him, he let her fetch him some food and hot coffee.

Eventually the surgeon returned with good news. His wife came through the surgery and they were feeling confident about the balloon they’d inserted to open her artery. As it was, she was two hours past the end of her shift, but she didn’t care. She stayed with the old man— his name was Art —until they came to take him to his wife in recovery.

Exhaustion dogged her steps as she trudged to the nurse’s station. Miranda glanced up from her computer. “You’re still here,” Colby murmured to the older woman. Since Miranda had been there before she arrived, she’d assumed she would already be gone.

“I am,” Miranda said with a smile as she held out her hand. “You did an amazing job today. Mr. Dossey was very grateful for your assistance.”

“He was a nice guy.” Colby hated compliments. “And he was scared. I don’t know why their kids aren’t here for them, but I couldn’t leave him.” Even if she’d wanted to leave, he wouldn’t have let her. Passing over her card, she watched as Miranda signed and initialed it for the last time.

“We’re going to miss you around here, but I know wherever life takes you, you’re going to be all right.” She slid the time card onto the scanner and fired it up to take a photocopy of the card. “Where is life going to take you?”

“I don’t know,” she answered as truthfully as possible. Frankly, Miranda’s level of personal interest defied all previous behavior. “I am leaving Alba, though, to try my luck south…maybe New York. Maybe Florida. Florida could be awesome. No more snow in winter.” If she never saw another snowstorm after the last couple of years it would be too soon.

“I hear that.” Copy finished, Miranda handed her the time card. “You’ve got a lot of potential, Colby. I meant what I said about writing you a recommendation. You only need a few more clinical hours and a couple of classes to finish your RN.”

Uncertain of what to say, Colby shrugged. “I’m going to start over, whatever I do.”

“You deserve a fresh start.” Miranda rose from her chair then circled out from behind the nurse’s station. If her kindness and interest hadn’t already startled Colby, her sudden hug robbed her of speech. “I’m exceptionally proud of you, Colby Jensen. You were full of resentment when you marched through those doors thirteen months ago. The last place in the world you wanted to be was a hospital, but you never let it stop you from doing your absolute best and you’ve grown, young lady. Grown wonderfully.”

Tears filled her eyes, and Colby returned the embrace with more hesitance than she thought possible. People didn’t hug her. Hell, her mother was the least touchy feely person she knew. Public demonstrations of emotion were strictly forbidden and more likely to earn rancor than empathy. “Thank you, Miranda. I might actually miss you.”

The older woman laughed then gave her a squeeze before nudging her away. “I doubt that. I’m the dragon lady, and I rather like my reputation. Now, get out of here.”

“I will. I promised five-ten I’d drop in before I left. Did he behave today?” Honestly, she’d been so busy, she’d all but forgotten about their deal.

“Actually, I think he did. None of the nurses or orderlies complained. What did you do? Drug his food?”

Colby laughed. “Tempting, but no. I just explained to him he needed to be nicer to people and they might be nice to him. I also pointed out, since I’m leaving, he’s out his free burgers if he doesn’t suck up to someone else.”

“Well played. You really do have a gift with patients.” The phone rang and Miranda reached for it. “Go be a stranger, Colby.”

Be a stranger.
She liked that idea. Outside of Alba, no one would know about Colby Jensen and her bad reputation or her penchant for raising hell with the worst kind of boys. She wouldn’t be the kid cited for vandalism or the skipping school. The nursing school dropout who let her boyfriend use her for access to a prescription locker or worse…a punching bag. Her jaw ached at the memory. Course, he only used her for a punching bag once.

She put him in the hospital the second time and the assault left her on probation and community service. Community service she’d served. Better to leave it all behind her, go where no one knew her name, and take advantage of a clean slate.

Walking on leaden legs, she headed for room five-ten. Her stomach growled a complaint about the long hours since lunch. She’d turned in her notice on her apartment the month before, so all she had to do when she left was grab dinner, go home, eat, pack up the last of her things and shower. A good night’s sleep and she’d be on the road in the morning, her apartment keys turned in and Alba in her rearview mirror.

God, it sounded so good.

At the door to his room, she didn’t even bother raising her hand to knock. She simply waited.

“Come in,” the patient called, and she grinned as she pushed the door inward. Not even his scowl could lessen her good mood. “You’re late.”

“I was busy,” she told him, closing the door and leaning against it. “I promised I would come back after my shift, and my shift just ended.”

Weird how he was the one in the bed with the casts and the injuries, yet he seemed even more alert than he had that morning. His I.V. was also missing from his arm. The stand was there, but the tubing lay discarded to the side. The saline drip bag was three-quarters full. If they’d planned on removing his I.V. they would have cleaned up after him. Had five-ten removed it himself?

“You look tired,” his gruff tone softened. “Is the old guy going to be okay?”

“His wife pulled through,” she said by way of answer. No point in asking him how he knew where she’d been or pointing out that if he had known, then he’d also known she’d be late. “So, here I am. What did you want to ask me?”

The corner of his mouth quirked and his eyes narrowed, though the green color was all but lost in the half-light of the lamp nearest him. Hell, his eyes seemed to be reflecting the light in the dark room and were almost yellow. Creepy
. Cool, too. But creepy.

“I love how you cut to the chase.” Patting the bed next to him once, he curved the fingers on his casted arm. “Come sit and talk to me for a minute. I won’t keep you long.”

“I’m good right here.” Truth was, since she’d leaned against the door she wasn’t sure she could straighten and walk to the side of his bed much less out of the room. Better to rest for a few minutes longer, because she still needed to get to her car.

He frowned and she half-expected him to argue. Disliking her choice might be his prerogative, but since she didn’t plan on seeing him again… “I have a proposal for you.” Each word seemed carefully chosen and the weight of his regard rested on her like a wave of hot and humid air. “I need to get out of here.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Both of his legs were in casts—one from mid-thigh to his ankle and the other from the knee all the way to the end of his foot—not to mention his left arm was casted from elbow to wrist.

“Ignore the plaster. I can check myself out against medical advice. It doesn’t matter—what I need is a ride.” Fixed on her, his gaze remained unwavering. “You’re leaving after today and heading where, exactly?”

Okay.
There were patients who needed the extra bit of handholding and then there were guys who crossed the line. She felt bad for five-ten, but not that bad. “None of your damn business.”

Another faint smile graced his lips. “You are a tough one, Colby.” The way he said her name sent goosebumps rippling over her arms. “But you’re right. It isn’t any of my business, but I’m asking because I need your help and I’m willing to pay for it.”

“First of all, you’re in a hospital because you were in a coma, and you’re still recovering from whatever the hell happened to you.” No one was quite certain, though all signs pointed to him having been involved in a hit and run. “Rumor has it you were found naked and unconscious next to the road. You’ve got a lot of broken bones and you were in a
coma
.” She repeated it for effect. “The last thing you need to do is check yourself out and travel anywhere…besides, you probably can’t get around without a wheelchair.”

“All true.” Though he agreed with her, his sigh conveyed more frustration than all of his growling over the last week.

Pushing away from the door, she crossed the room. “Mr. Danes…”

“Luc.”

Charming.
“Mr. Danes.” Enunciating his name earned her another faint smile. “I get that you don’t like being here. No one likes being in a hospital. But your injuries are extensive and you have a concussion. The nasty cut on your forehead there may be linked to a cracked skull.”

“Trust me, sweet cheeks, my skull is fine. The rest of me will be fine, too, once I get home—”

Interest perking, she raised her brows. “Home? I thought they asked you about contact information for family and you didn’t give them any.”

“Yeah, because I’d rather go to them than have them all come here. To do that, I need a ride.” Sitting forward caused him pain, or at least the grimace on his face suggested it did. “I can’t drive a car right now, but you can. You’re leaving anyway, and I can make it lucrative for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Drive me to New York, to a little town in Westchester County, about four—maybe five—hours from here.”

“Mr. Danes…”

“I’ll pay you a thousand dollars now and another thousand when you get me there.”

“What?”

“You heard me, sweet cheeks. Do this for me, and I’ll definitely make it worth your while.” Sweat beaded along his forehead and his jaw tightened. No matter how stubborn or foolishly he was behaving; she couldn’t stand to see his pain. Reaching out, she placed a hand against his shoulder and gave him a light push. Despite his hospital stay and injuries, touching him was like touching hot steel. He didn’t budge at first.

“You should lie back. You’re hurting yourself.” Her admonishment did what her nudge hadn’t. He settled against the pillows, but kept hold of her gaze.

“Help me, Colby. Please.”

“If you say I’m you’re only hope, I’ll punch you.” Dammit, she was going to do it. What the hell was wrong with her?

“You’re not my only hope.” His crooked grin eased the tension in his jaw. “But you are my best option. And I mean it…I
need
your help. Say yes.”

Bad boys had always been her weakness.
Not true…people in need are my weakness.
A bad boy in need? Double whammy. “I’ll think about it.” Yes, she could think about it, walk out of the hospital and never come back.

“You’re going to do it.” Relief filled his voice. “I’ll make sure I have my discharge papers by tomorrow morning. What time should I expect you?”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“You have,” he closed his eyes, his expression relaxing. “You just haven’t admitted it to yourself.”

Arrogant…
“You should get some rest, I’ll let the charge nurse know you’re in pain.”

“Don’t bother,” he murmured. “No more drugs for me. I took out the I.V.”

“They need to put it back in.” She reached to out to press the call button, then Luc caught her wrist in a steel clamp. His grip was unyielding, but thankfully not painful.

“No.” His voice dropped an octave, and she had no choice but to stare at him. “It needs to stay out. I need the drugs out of my system by morning.”

She believed him. Desperation had a very familiar flavor. “How much trouble are you in?”

“Enough to need to be gone by tomorrow.”

Her stomach sank, but she refused to acquiesce…yet. “If I help you, will it get me into trouble, too?” The last guy who needed her so desperately cost her a year of her life.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Not really an answer.
“I give you my word Colby Jensen, I will protect you and this is my choice to leave the hospital. Nothing that happens will be your responsibility. I need a driver…and a friend for a few hours. You will be well compensated, and I will owe you a favor. Whenever—wherever you need it.”

God, is he in the mafia?
She
should
leave him. He needed to be in a hospital, but if he really was in trouble… “I am so going to regret this.”

The corners of his mouth tilted, then he tugged her wrist lightly and brought her hand to his mouth. The kiss he pressed to her knuckles was at once both formal and oddly intimate. “On my life, Colby, I promise you—I will do everything I can to make sure you do not.”

The hell of it was…she believed him.

“
S
o
, we have a couple of broken arms, both of which I left in casts because they need to learn being a wolf doesn’t equal being indestructible,” Gillian said, her attention on Trent instead of Brett. They’d all been woken in the middle of the night after a couple of rowdy teens stole their father’s car for some hot rodding with humans. Not only had they totaled the car, they’d nearly totaled themselves.

Trent’s face scrunched. “But they were hurt more, weren’t they?”

Across the room, Owen mirrored Brett’s pose and leaned against the wall. He’d looked after his mate as they visited the accident scene and taken care of the injured. Pierce worked with their wolves in the State Police to quietly clean it up and no one in the media seemed any the wiser.

“Yes.” Fatigue edged Gillian’s voice, but her placid calmness kept Brett’s edginess at bay. The submissive’s sweetness and caring were a boon to him and his pack. “Trent, do you remember when we discussed conservation of energy?”

The ten-year-old frowned. “If we use all our energy healing everything, we won’t have what we need when it’s major, but you helped the woman? The human?”

Another gift of Gillian’s—her healing ability worked on humans. A truly rare gift and one they kept quiet. For human pack mates, it was an essential gift, but if the outside world learned… No, Brett didn’t want to countenance such knowledge in the open. Gillian was one wolf, she didn’t need to be worn to bare threads.

“The woman, Tabatha, was very badly hurt. She had a ruptured spleen and internal bleeding.” Despite the severity of the topic, Gillian never sugar-coated her wisdom for the pre-teen. She’d told Brett once that she believed Trent would be a powerful healer one day. He showed every ounce of the potential and a certain amount of skill even at his age. To shepherd his talent, however, meant also being honest about everything. He had to understand what would one day be asked of him. “Wolves can heal many severe injuries, even without our assistance. Will it take them longer? Yes. Humans, however, are far more fragile. Internal bleeding and infections can kill them rapidly. Tabatha needed my assistance far more than they did. Also she was innocent victim of their stupidity. Since they decided to steal cars and race them, with the full knowledge they could survive their idiocy, they deserved less of my assistance than she did.”

“That sounds like a judgment… or like a punishment. I thought parents and Brett and the Hunters did the judgments.” The struggle in his expression beckoned to Brett. The confusion was his to clear up.

“Judgment and punishment are mine to mete out.” He spoke slowly and kept his tone level. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the kid. Trent, however, needed to understand. “Your mom disciplines you when your father isn’t home, doesn’t she?”

Quizzical and hesitant, Trent nodded. “Yes.”

“Your teachers, they see to your discipline at school?”

Another nod.

“If you and your friends are misbehaving when you’re playing, other pack mates and neighbors correct you, don’t they?”

Dislike flared in the child’s eyes. Healer potential or not, he was still a boy. “Yes.” The sullen note earned a faint smile from Gillian, one she hid but Brett didn’t bother to disguise his grin.

“Healers have the right to administer justice as well, particularly if a wolf has been stupid. Remember, it’s your energy that is used up to fix whatever issue they’ve created for themselves. They aren’t going to die from their broken bones, but they are going to ache. If they do shift, they can fix their injuries themselves.”

“That’ll hurt, though.”

“Pain teaches us,” Brett said, agreeing with him. “Pain reminds us we shouldn’t do some things. We have to listen to our pain. In this case, if they remember how much it hurt, maybe they won’t commit another dangerous act that could kill someone.”

“Killing humans…”

“Is a punishable offense. Whether through accident or design, if that young lady died as a result of their actions, they would be facing far more serious consequences. I don’t want to ever punish them for
that
failure, and they don’t want to feel the guilt associated with killing another person.”

Grimacing, Trent blinked back tears. “I didn’t think about her dying.”

Rubbing the younger man’s back, Gillian smiled gently. “You’re still young, and you’re learning. I don’t enjoy chastising anyone, even the most foolish, but they could have killed themselves as well as that girl. We’re wolves, but we’re not indestructible. Sometimes a little bit of pain, if they learn from it, is better overall. Think of it this way—if you burn your finger on the stove and I heal it, would you be more or less likely to burn it the next time?”

Since Trent had endured that very injury just six weeks before, grabbing a hot pan fresh from the oven in his hurry to get to the cookies, he understood the issue. “I won’t ever grab a pan of cookies right out of the oven again.” The solemn dedication in his tone earned a grin from all of the adults.

“Exactly.” Brett ruffled his hair. “Now, it’s your weekend with your parents. Go, have fun, play with your friends and make sure you get your homework done. We’ll see you on Monday.”

Trent hugged Gillian, then threw himself at Brett. The ease of affection and the trust in the child warmed his heart. After giving him a careful squeeze, Brett set him on his feet.

Owen straightened and met Brett’s gaze with a nod. “C’mon, kid. I’ll walk you home.” In addition to Owen’s escort, the Hunters Jess and Milo kept regular eyes on Trent when he was away from the Alpha or Gillian. His life was extremely valuable to them all—not only because he was a healer, but also because he was one of their most vulnerable. Hudson River could brook no more losses.

Half-skipping, Trent raced over to Owen and followed the Hunter out.

“That was well done,” Gillian complimented him.

“Thank you. Now eat your food and drink your tea.” He rose and gave the food on the coffee table a meaningful look. “Your health is also important, and your mate is starting to snarl in my direction.”

“He is not.” Still, she grinned and reached for the plate of cucumber and salmon sandwiches. His little healer had a deep affection for fish. Brett’s mother discovered she loved salmon in all its forms and kept sending over dishes for her to try. “But these are delicious.” She cradled the sandwiches, and he wondered if she’d take off his hand if he helped himself to one.

Unwilling to distract her from eating by making her defend her meal, he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Word is you do not need to go to Maine after all. Luc woke up and is on his way here.”

“Oh, that’s good. I wish you’d told me sooner about him. Owen and I could have made the drive, and we could have made sure he was out of the coma sooner.” He accepted the admonishment from her, but it didn’t change his mind about his decision.

“Pain is a good educator. Luc is also a Lone Wolf.”

“You don’t fool me.” Gillian curled her feet beneath her as she continued to nibble her sandwich. “He’s your friend. You don’t like to impose because you feel guilty about asking me to do so much when you haven’t managed to persuade me to stay in Hudson River full time.”

Damn her intelligence sometimes.
“You’re a Willow Bend wolf, Gillian. I accept that is your home.”

“It’s not just about me, and you know it. Your pack needs a healer whose full commitment is to them, whose home is here, and whose heart is here.” Sipping her hot tea, she let out a sigh. “I do love it here, and I love you.” The words gave him a jolt, but also spearheaded pleasure through him. “But I belong with Owen, and his heart is in Willow Bend. He can’t leave Mason any more than you could abandon your people.”

“I know, little wolf.” He softened his manner and dropped to sit in the chair to her left. “You can’t blame me for trying.”

“Never.” A grin lit her expression. “And I won’t abandon you until you have a healer for your people and Trent is trained. So you’ll have years yet to put up with me.”

“Oh, the horror.” Scratching his jaw, he stretched his legs out. “You finished your assessments of the Hunters?”

She finished her sandwich before answering. “Not quite. Owen said we still have to meet with Paris and Bootsy, but they’re still in the city and neither of us really wants to go into Manhattan.”

Few of his wolves like the concrete island, however, for those that did, he’d assigned two Hunters to the area to be on call for assistance and to handle any potential situations. “Paris is a bitch, a real class A, type A, over-the-top control freak bitch, but she’s loyal to a fault. I’d have her at my back in a heartbeat.” One of the reasons he’d given her the assignment for Manhattan. “Bootsy is…distant, but trustworthy, and Paris says, while he’s sloppy, too playful and far too much in love with the city night life, she finds him an acceptable partner for the assignment.”

“Acceptable?” Lips pursed, Gillian raised her eyebrows. “Is that a compliment in her book?”

“Completely, so I am comfortable with both of them if you don’t get a chance to meet them.”

The door opened, and Owen’s scent accompanied the soft scrape of his shoe as he entered. “I would rather we did their assessment before we left,” he said, joining the conversation. “Your trust is obviously the most important component, but you asked me to assess your Hunters, to verify they were all in the right positions, and you wanted Gillian taking the temperature of their mental health. Believing them is vital, but being able to provide you with an accurate recommendation requires our meeting them.”

“And you want to be accurate.” Brett exhaled the words, then nodded slowly. He’d asked Owen for his expertise and trusted him on a level he didn’t quite trust his own Hunters—a lack on his part more than theirs. After Marco’s betrayal, though, Brett wanted another opinion. The madness which had consumed the Hunter cost too many lives. Far too many.

“Absolutely.” Owen studied his mate and the plate of sandwiches. Gillian had eaten two triangles, but another half dozen still sat on the plate.

“Mine,” she told him, hugging the plate and claiming another triangle.

His slow grin was an intimate one, so Brett gave the couple their privacy and let his gaze trail to the painting of one of the cottage groves on the far wall. His mother had decorated the main sitting area. She’d chosen landscapes, all of areas he particularly enjoyed. It took him years to realize the point of the landscapes—they reminded him to relax. Perhaps he’d take Trent fishing after his weekend with his parents. He hadn’t gone fishing in a long time, and it was a useful skill. Bonding with his healer-to-be gave him a good excuse.

And it also lets you avoid the rest of your pack.
The snide little voice in the back of his mind annoyed him. His conscience sucked. “We should have a pack gathering again before you two go home to Willow Bend.”

Owen settled onto the sofa with his mate and tugged one of her bare feet into his lap. “The pack run was very successful.”

“True.” Three weeks had passed and he’d only seen a few of his pack mates since then. An Alpha shouldn’t isolate himself, yet he couldn’t escape the sensation of having disappointed his pack so profoundly. He’d let them down and…

“Brett.” Gillian’s soft voice interrupted his musing. “A gathering sounds like a lovely idea. Why not host a barbecue here at the house? Put your mother in charge, since she loves organizing food and activities for the children. It would do all of the families good to have a typical summer event to attend.”

Annual barbecues had been popular with the pack. The swimming holes nearest his home were also the ones most frequented by his younger pack mates. Hell, he’d grown up swimming in those same ponds. S’mores around the bonfire…ice slithered through him. The last bonfire on his property had left him on fire, several pack mates dead, and a betrayer pointing a gun at Gillian’s head.

“It’s an idea.” Her gentle voice drew him back to the present once more. “But I do think we should talk to your mother or some of the other mothers. They’d know what events might be fun.” Another simple reminder of whom was Alpha.

He didn’t growl, but he also didn’t want to exclude her and Owen in his plans. “Point made,” he said. She was right more often than not. “I’ll take care of it.”
In fact…
“You two should take the weekend for yourselves. Trent’s with his parents, the kids are fine, and most of us are healthy enough to manage. Go spoil your mate and disappear for a couple of days.”

Nostrils flared, Owen seemed to check his words for honesty. Satisfied with what he found, the Hunter nodded. “We can drive up to Niagara.”

“Yes!” Enthusiasm flooded Gillian’s face, then she bit her lower lip. “What about the wolf in Maine?”

“At this point, no need to worry. If he’s well enough to travel, he’s well enough to wait for you to return. Go to Niagara Falls, enjoy yourselves.”

He didn’t have to tell them twice. Gillian finished her sandwiches and Owen spirited his mate away in a rush. Brett took no offense at the hurry, since Gillian proved rather intractable when she didn’t want to do something. As long as everything seemed calm, Owen would have more luck in getting her to take a break.

With their absence, however, the house felt strangely silent. Brett stared at the landscapes on the wall. The empty house reflected his life at the moment. He trusted wolves who belonged to another pack. Felt comfortable with their company and relaxed only when children were around, children with no agenda. Isolation wasn’t healthy; he’d heard both Gillian’s arguments as well as his mother’s. He had to trust his pack again.

But how?

S
aturday morning found
Brett rising nearly an hour before dawn despite how late he went to sleep. The lack of even a hint of the sunrise in the east warned him of the heavy clouds before he scented the promise of rain. Dressed in loose sweatpants and a t-shirt, he headed out for a run. Despite his teasing remarks to Gillian from time to time, he took the long-term damage of the burns seriously.

Yes, he deserved to carry the marks of his failure, but he also needed to keep his muscles loose and limber. Scar tissue could interfere with a shift, or worse, slow him down in combat. Neither was an acceptable alternative, so he ran, exercised, and climbed. Pitting himself against the environment kept his muscles from stiffening when they shouldn’t and loosened the tissue.