“It’s cute how you think I’m going to listen to you. Order me a burger, will you? You know how I like them.”
Ted ignored his sigh as she walked over and parked her butt on the barstool right in front of Ollie.
He was a distant cousin on his father’s side, but more than that, he was one of her best friends.
“Hey,” she said, trying to get him to look at her.
“Don’t ask.” Ollie didn’t look up.
“About what?”
“Don’t ask whatever question you have about how I’m doing, or have I seen her, or what I’m going to do about everything. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Brooder.”
He looked up then, and he was annoyed. “You think you’re funny, but you’re not. Keep pushing, Ted. See what happens.”
“I know what I want to happen—”
She blinked when he slammed a glass down so hard that it cracked. Without missing a beat, he tossed it in a trash can behind him, not even looking as it fell in. Then he leaned forward, and Ted was reminded that Ollie wasn’t just an easy-going barman. He was a predator. Quiet… until you pushed him too hard.
“Don’t.” His voice was barely audible.
“Okay.”
At her quiet acquiescence, she saw his face soften.
“I know you want everyone to be happy, sweetheart, but it’s not as simple as that.”
“Can it be?”
His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak for a few moments.
“It’s not simple. It never was. What we want and what’s best isn’t always the same thing.”
“Ollie—”
“Too soon,” he growled. “It’s too soon.”
“For what?”
“For everything I want.”
“Allie—”
“Isn’t ready. Not for this. Not for me. She’s in shock. She doesn’t need… me. Not the me I want to be. She needs her friends.”
“You are her friend.”
A defeated look flickered in his eyes, but he quickly looked away and started cleaning glasses again. “I’m not a friend she needs right now.”
Because he’d never wanted to just be her friend. He’d always wanted more. Ollie had hung on for years, never settling down with anyone else, his heart already owned by the girl he’d never have.
“How do you stand it?”
He glanced up. “What?”
“Waiting. Not having what you want so much.”
The bear’s eyes flickered over to where Alex was sitting. “Why don’t you ask your date? He knows as well as I do. Maybe better.”
“We were nothing like—”
“You ever wonder, Ted—” Ollie interrupted her with his quiet voice. “—which guy has it harder? The guy who knows he’ll become an alcoholic given a chance, so he never takes a drink? Or the guy who tastes it—fills himself up to the top and still can’t get enough—then leaves it behind, knowing it’s the only real choice he has?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You comparing me to whiskey, Ollie?”
“No comparison, sweetheart. The right woman’s more addicting than whiskey.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “And tastes a hell of a lot better, too.”
The next day, Ted sat in her office, spinning idly on her stool, remembering the rest of her date with Alex while she waited for the medical examiner to call her from San Bernardino.
They’d eaten their dinner. Joked around. He’d driven her home and given her another bone-melting kiss at her front door. Then he’d left and she’d all but collapsed from exhaustion. Work, the fight out at Old Quinn’s, shifting. And running through the day was the delicate sparring with Alex as her heart balanced on the edge of pushing him away and falling for him all over again.
If it had been a date with any other man, she’d be ecstatic. She’d be on the phone with Jena, crowing about the hot, funny guy who’d taken her to dinner, kissed her like it was his mission in life, and starred in some very vivid dreams.
But like Ollie had said the night before, it wasn’t simple. For her and Alex, it never had been.
Oh, they’d fooled themselves for years when they were living in LA. When home and family responsibilities had seemed so far away. But they weren’t playing house anymore, and the phone call she’d forced herself to make to her mother that morning only drove the point home.
Lena Vasquez hadn’t thrown a fit like Alex had predicted. It had been worse. She’d been completely silent as Ted related the story of how the blood marker had been drawn, and Old Quinn’s acknowledgement that Ted had been “provoked.”
Lena hadn’t said a word.
“We’ll speak of this later. We both need to get to work.”
Her mother was the principal of Cambio Springs Elementary School and ruled the children of the town with the same loving—and very firm hand—that had raised Ted. Her father had been the jovial softie of the family until he’d been taken by a heart attack when Ted was only a freshman in college. Like most of the female cats, Lena had married a man who catered and cared for her. A strong man who always put his wife and daughter first. The fact that her daughter had formed a relationship with a shifter who had a host of responsibilities other than Ted was something Lena had never liked.
The phone rang, startling her out of the slow spin. She grabbed for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Ted?”
She smiled at the friendly voice of Larry Carlisle, her favorite of the three forensic pathologists who worked in the San Bernardino County Sheriff-Coroner’s office. Larry was an amiable guy, despite the death and destruction he regularly saw. He was old enough to be her father, but had always treated her like a colleague.
“Hey Larry,” she said, nerves twisting her gut. Larry might have been friendly, but he had sharp eyes and a perceptive mind. If there was anything unusual about Marcus’s body—anything unique to his shifting nature—Larry would have caught it. “You have the results back on Marcus Quinn?”
Far from the near-instant results shown on television shows, autopsies and toxicology screens took days, and more often, weeks to get results. If the coroner’s office and lab was backed up, it could take far longer.
“Autopsy’s done, and it’s what we both expected. Gun shot wound killed him. No question of that. Pretty massive internal bleeding. I can send you a copy of the report, if you’d like.”
“That’d be great, thanks.” Larry didn’t question her interest in the case. He knew Cambio Springs was a small town and she’d known the victim. “Anything… unusual?”
“Nothing unexpected. Except… well, there was one thing, but it doesn’t appear to have anything to do with cause of death. It’s just kind of weird.”
She sat up straight. “What was it?”
“He’d had a recent break in his arm, not unusual for someone in a physical job like he had. The bone was healed, it was the tissue damage that was odd.”
“How?”
“If I looked at the tissue, I’d say the bone broke maybe a week before death. The bruising. The muscle tissue. But the fracture was healed. He must have been in a cast for weeks, but there was no loss of muscle. It’s… odd.”
“Yeah, weird.” There was no use denying it. She tried to distract him instead. “Tox?”
“We’ve got preliminary, but not final. Did the victim have any history of drug use that you know of? Current prescriptions?”
“His wife said he was healthy as a horse, and she hasn’t held back anything that we know of.”
“There were a few things that seemed off in his initial screen, so I’m requesting some additional tests.”
“Care to share?”
“Nothing solid right now, but I’ll let you know. May be nothing.”
“Let me know. As far as I know, he wasn’t taking anything.”
“He was a big guy.”
“Yeah.”
Was Larry implying that Marcus had been given something to make him vulnerabl
e? It was something to think about. If he’d been drugged, that changed the whole scenario of someone sneaking up on him or turning his back on someone trusted. Then again, drugs worked very differently on shifter metabolisms.
She started spinning again. “Anything else?”
“For tox? The final report isn’t finished. They’ll have it by the end of the week. But they sent over a preliminary when Chief Gilbert prodded them, so I thought I’d pass along the results.”
“You call him already?”
“E-mail.”
She nodded, though she was alone in the room. “I’ll talk to him later today.”
“Let him know I’m available if he has any questions you can’t field.”
“Appreciate it.”
“You got it.” He hesitated. “Things are getting more interesting up in your neck of the woods. There was that animal attack last year. Now this…”
“Yeah.” She started shuffling papers and making noise, trying to sound busier than she actually was. “Hey Larry, I’ve got to go. Thanks again for the info.”
“Anytime. And Ted?”
“Yeah?”
“Hope things calm down.”
“Me too, Larry. Thanks.”
Chapter Ten
Alex walked Chris Avery through the job site, introducing him to the foreman he didn’t know, going over the updated plans that Marcus had drawn. Chris nodded along, but kept quiet for the most part. They started at the bottom of the hill and walked up, slowly going over each grade and contour of what would make up the Cambio Springs Spa and Resort.
Walking the land, he could see it begin to form in his mind. The subtle dip of the earth enhanced just enough to provide a sense of isolation, so the resort guests would focus on the sweeping walls of the canyon and the vivid blue sky. The sound of trickling water would fill the air, carried on the dry wind. The water carefully recycled and used to water the palms and succulents that would create an isolated oasis.
It was what the town had always been to him. His oasis and his home. His love for Cambio Springs wasn’t only born of familiarity. As much as he enjoyed the ocean and the morning mist that drifted from the Pacific, he needed the dry wind and sucking heat of the desert. He felt lazy in the water laden air near the ocean. In the Springs, he was strong and lean. His wolf stretched and pawed, content that nothing would confine him. The sky was big enough for his eyes. The landscape vast enough for his energy.
“So,” Chris Avery interrupted his thoughts when they reached the trailer that served as the main office. “You really think people are gonna come all the way out here for vacation?”
“No.” Alex smiled at the man’s surprise. “They’re going to sneak out here for a very exclusive break from life. They’re going to rest. Maybe work. Breathe clean air and soak in the water. This place will never be Vegas.”
The human looked around with poorly concealed disdain. “You can say that again.”
“I’d never want it to be like that circus.” Alex ignored the disdain. It was fine by him if the man finished the job and never stepped foot in the Springs again. In fact, he’d prefer it. “Our clientele are going to want exclusive. Quiet. Privacy. That’s the market we’re aiming for.”
“And you think you can attract that kind of attention?”
“Yep.” Alex sat down and stretched out his legs, grabbing a bottle of water from the small ice chest by his desk and passing it to Chris before he opened another for himself. “I already have.”
The other man didn’t hide his skepticism. “Oh yeah?”
He waited for Alex to explain, but the wolf just grinned. Marcus’s brother-in-law didn’t need to know that Ollie had been quietly passing the word around to the many musicians he knew. Some of the biggest acts in rock and roll had once cut their teeth at The Cave, going out of their way to hang on the wall with the greats who had played before. And if Ollie put the word out that there was a place near The Cave that catered to those looking for quiet and privacy, the word would get around. A few of his associates had even asked if there would be recording facilities on the premises.
Alex was considering it, but Chris didn’t need to know any of that. He just needed to finish the surveying and land-moving work that Marcus had started, then get the hell out of Alex’s town.
“Well, good luck,” Chris said, when it was obvious that no other answer would be forthcoming. “As long as the bills get paid, Crescent Construction is happy to work.”
“Appreciated. Your guys are good.”
“Yeah, they should be,” Chris said quietly, glancing out the window at the group of guys walking past. “We don’t hire guys who don’t know their stuff. Or who can’t speak the language, if you know what I mean.
Alex bristled at the comment, noting that the guys who’d just passed the window were joking loudly in the mix of English and Spanish so common in the California desert.
“No, I don’t know what you mean, Avery.”
Chris shrugged. “I’m just saying, I see a lot of local guys working around here. That’s good. Good that you’re more interested in quality work that just getting cheap labor.”
“And what does quality work have to do with speaking the ‘right language?’”
The man blinked, as if just realizing his words could cause offense. Then he smiled an “aw shucks” grin and said, “Hey, no big thing, man. I saw your girlfriend the other day. Sweet.”
“I wouldn’t call her that to her face.”
The other man smiled and nodded. “I get it.”
Alex crossed his arms. “You get what, exactly?”
Chris’s friendly demeanor changed and he sat up straighter. “No need to make a big deal about it, McCann.”
“It’s gonna be a big deal if you can’t work with my crew. See, we have all kinds of ‘quality’ workers in the Springs, and they speak all kinds of languages. And not all of them use the boy’s bathroom, either. You gonna have a problem with that?”
“Nah.” His eyes were narrowed. “I hear what you’re saying.”
“Good.”
“After all, the customer is always right.”
Alex could tell by the squint in Avery’s eyes that he’d just made an enemy. Then again, mosquitos were annoying, too, but they didn’t keep him from getting the job done.
“Glad to hear I’m always right. You need anything else before you get to work?”
“I got your number,” Avery said. “I’ll let you know after I meet with Sid.”
“I’ll let you get to that, then.”
The man took the unspoken invitation and stood to leave. “Later.”
Much later, if Alex had anything to say about it.
He had no patience for idiotic prejudice. Racism was only one of the things that the founders of the Springs had been trying to flee. White, black, Mexican, Cherokee. They’d all traveled in the same caravan, looking for a place where hard work and character meant more than the color of their skin. Cambio Springs may have had rivalries between animal clans, but racism was seen by pretty much everyone as plain stupid. What the hell did it matter what color your skin was if you had the same fur under the full moon?
As Alex watched Marcus’s brother-in-law walk to his truck where his foreman was waiting, he had to wonder: If Chris Avery was a racist, what else could he be prejudiced about? And how would he react if he knew just how different their little town was?
He’d called Ted to see if she wanted to meet for lunch, but she’d been swamped with a sudden rash of strep throat among the town’s third grade population. Who knew passing suckers around at recess would have that result? Apparently, not the many eight year olds with fevers. Luckily, she hadn’t said no to Alex dropping off a sandwich. He decided to kill two birds with one stone while he was at the diner, since he needed to talk to Jena about the restaurant at the resort.
Jena was poking and prodding at the plans he’d spread out in the booth, a small frown creasing her forehead.
“This is the main b
uilding?”
“Yep.” He pointed to the top of the hill. “It’ll have the reception area, the restaurant, a small cafe—”
“You might want to think about a juice bar instead,” Jena interrupted. “I don’t know how many people are going to want caffeine, you know?”
“Juice and tea? Stuff like that?”
“It’s a spa, right? Juice. Tea. Healthy stuff that people can grab when they’re done soaking. Or stuff to take down to the water.”
“Good idea.”
She arched her back and her belly rubbed against the edge of the table. “That’s my job.”
“How you feeling?”
“Good, mostly.” She frowned again, still looking at the plans. “So where’s the restaurant?”
“Here. One side will have a fitness center and the cafe—or juice bar, I guess.” He penciled in notes as he talked. “The other will have the restaurant and bar.”
Jena grinned. “Can’t be too healthy, can we?”
“Wine’s healthy. Mostly.”
He went over the rest of the plans quickly, making notes at her suggestions and coaxing her cooperation about room service when she balked at the many bungalows that would dot the property. When he offered to give her delivery guy his own custom golf cart, she relented.
“Talk to me about Ted,” Jena said when he was rolling up the plans.
“What about Ted?” He shuffled the papers around and tried to dodge the question.
“Oh come on… you’re picking up her lunch. You’re taking her to dinner at The Cave.” Jena raised a suspicious eyebrow. “So what’s what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on.”
“I don’t.” He smiled ruefully. “Wish I did. We’re trying out more than friends. I think. She’s…”
“What?”
“She’s Ted, you know? She’s tough.”
Jena said, “She has to be. And be honest, you’d have lost interest years ago if she wasn’t a challenge.”
“You think that’s why she’d making me jump through hoops? She’s afraid I’ll get bored?”
“Be honest. How many girls threw themselves at you on a regular basis the last ten years or so?”
Desert Bound Page 11
