by Elle Thorne
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Like I’m some sort of lower life form?
He shook his head. “She’s practically family. Hell, she is family. You don’t let family down. They don’t let you down.”
“And you don’t think I’d understand that?” Tears pricked her eyes at the thought of her father. Anger at Cross allowed her to push the thought aside, though she had never learned how to push it aside completely—not in months.
His eyes locked on hers. She didn’t blink for fear that’d make the tears cascade.
Think of something. Anything. Don’t think of the hurt. Don’t think of the betrayal.
She asked the first question that popped into her head. “What’s up with that room you have set up like a scene from a war room in a sci-fi movie?”
“Why do you need my help? Who are you running from?” He spat questions back, rapid-fire, without delay.
She glared at him, then turned her gaze to the wood that covered the porch. It was fresh, looked like someone had put a lot of love and work into it, with an eye for detail.
Who was this mysterious man with all that high tech equipment in a rustic cabin setting? Though her curiosity was piqued, she found her focus had zeroed in on her problem.
Could she use his computer? Would she be able to transfer the contents of the flash drive to an email and send it out? Would that put an end to her nightmare or would she end up alone in a grave, like her father?
Would anyone be able to trace it back to here? Would it wreak havoc on Cross’s life?
Why do I care?
And yet, she did.
Realizing he’d been silent for a few moments she glanced up.
Cross’s gaze was focused on something in the forest. She glanced at the trees.
A tiny deer was approaching the cabin on shaky legs.
“What the hell?” Cross’s tone was low, intense. “Go back to your mother,” he told the fawn.
Instead the fawn came closer.
And closer.
She noticed the blood on its shoulder.
She gasped.
“Stay here. Don’t move.” Cross’s tone brooked no argument.
Cross stepped off the porch, his boots crunching lightly on the leaves as he took slow steps toward the fawn. He was murmuring something in a deep timbre, though she didn't recognize the words.
Ariadne was sure the little deer was going to flee.
But it didn’t.
Instead, the bloody forlorn creature approached Cross, knees buckling on unsteady hooves, until it’s head was almost touching just above Cross’s knee.
Ariadne watched transfixed, completely unable to look away.
Cross squatted, lowered himself to one knee, the sounds of comfort still coming from his lips. The fawn stepped in between his legs, his head practically resting on Cross’s shoulder. Cross leaned back, took his flannel shirt off, and draped it over the fawn.
She stared at his torso, faint and faded scars marked his body. Bullet wounds, stab wounds, and even some that looked like claw marks. She wouldn’t have been able to see the scars had the sunlight not hit his body at just the right angle.
She tried not to stare at his body, the muscular broad back, the way his tendons flexed in his forearms, the way they lined his neck.
She’d never known a man like this. Ben hadn’t brought out these emotions in her. She swallowed hard and found she’d been holding her breath.
Ariadne drew the crisp clean mountain air in. Her body and mind felt alive in a way she never had before. Her eyes stayed glued to the dark-haired, ruggedly handsome, hardened man before her and wondered what his story was. Muscles like that, scars like his, and a control room that would make NASA proud.
Who is he?
To her bewilderment, she found herself drawn to him.
Rubbing in slow circles, he removed most of the blood from its fur.
Cross ran his fingers over the fawn gently. Large hands moving with tenderness over the quivering fawn while its liquid brown eyes studied his face.
Ariadne couldn’t help staring at the scene before her. This tough, large man was ministering to the tiny defenseless fawn while it almost seemed hypnotized by him. She took a step in their direction without realizing it until the fawn looked right at her.
She froze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to Cross.
He wrapped the fawn loosely in the shirt and picked him up.
“It’s not his blood.”
“Then…?”
“Probably his mother’s.” Cross shook his head.
“We have to go find her.”
“If he left her to come here, if he’s behaving like this, I’m not sure we’d like what we saw.”
The baby deer tucked its head under the jacket, his little twitching black nose was the only thing that she could see.
Cross heaved a sigh, sadness in that exhaled breath and in his eyes. “She was fine this morning.”
“You saw them?”
His nod was slow, eyes scanning the forest. “Can you drive a stick? He’s going to need some veterinary care. Plus, I can’t take care of it while—”
He cut himself off, but she knew what he was going to say; he couldn’t take care of the deer while he was babysitting her.
Guilt flooded through her. “I can go.”
He paused. “No.” Another pause. “I need you.”
How could this self-sustaining man, possibly need her?
Chapter Six
Cross’s head snapped in her direction. He cursed himself at his insensitivity.
His bear snarled at the idea she’d leave them.
Goddammit.
He wished his bear would shut up with this mate business.
But at the same time, the idea of her going away left a part of him feeling empty. It wasn’t so much that he was attached to her, as it was that he felt a drive to know her better. To know what made this woman tick. What made her run. What would make her stand and fight.
He saw the look in her eyes, the compassion for the little deer whose heartbeat Cross could feel against his chest. That look, coupled with her willingness to sacrifice whatever she was doing here so that he could take care of the little deer…
Cross sighed. He couldn’t let her walk away.
He had to get to know her. Something in the depths of her golden-green eyes pulled at him.
No, he couldn’t let her go. He studied her. The way her jaw stuck out with stubbornness. The way her cheeks reddened in a combination of embarrassment and anger at needing his help.
“No.” Cross shook his head. “You’re not going.”
“You don’t owe me,” she said. “And I don’t know what debt you feel you owe Mae or Fiona but it doesn’t extend to babysitting me.”
“I need you.”
This time she did the double take. “What?”
“Can you drive a stick? I need you to drive while I hold him.”
An expression that may have been disappointment flashed across her face. Her fingers had reached up, subconsciously, he was sure, and were touching the gold antique locket about her neck.
“I can drive a stick. My dad taught me.”
Sadness in her tone made him wonder where her father was. Why wasn’t he helping her?
“Grab me a hoodie from the hook by the front door."
With her assistance, he finagled the hoodie on, careful not to jostle the fawn, then led her to the shed, twenty-five yards from the house, and pulled the sliding wood door open.
His old, reliable truck filled the shed.
“Keys are in the ignition.”
Ariadne held the door for him—in a reverse case of chivalry—while he climbed in with the fawn. The little fella was limp, but still had a heartbeat. Maybe sleeping or maybe unconscious from shock. He pulled the door shut gently, hoping not to scare him.
What a day the little one had.
“Is the vet in Bear Canyon Valley?”
Ariadne’s tone gave him pause
. She was afraid. Her face had grown pale. Something out there was making this woman fearful.
“No. Outside Bear Canyon Valley.” He adjusted his legs, too long, almost, even for his truck. “Mac’s a vet, but not your average vet. Mac works for the Bear Canyon Wildlife Reserve. Mostly travels all over the region helping wildlife.”
Ariadne nodded tersely, her lips flattened in a worried line.
“Ariadne.” He liked the way her name sounded as it rolled off his tongue. He’d never met anyone with that name. Oh, who was he kidding. He never met women anyway. His line of work didn’t really allow for that, unless they were female shifters and associated with the Shifter Council.
He’d never met someone who struck a chord with him.
His bear huffed.
And evidently she struck a chord with his bear.
She glanced in his direction. “What?”
“I won’t take risks with your safety. If I didn’t think it would be safe to take you to Mac’s, I wouldn’t.
Ariadne nodded.
Her nod was interrupted by a gasp.
He saw the same thing, at the same time.
“Pull over.”
There, on the side of the road, the fawn’s mother. He didn’t need to be an expert at autopsy to see the spot where the round had entered her body.
Then he saw another round.
Who the hell? Why didn’t I hear a shot?
“Oh, God.” Ariadne whispered. “She’s gone. He’s all alone. He’s got no one.”
The way she said it, Cross wondered if she wasn’t talking about herself as well.
Cross had to get to the bottom of Ariadne’s issue. Or find out if Mae had.
Ariadne nosed the vehicle back onto the road that was more of a path.
Cross gave her directions in a low tone. He hadn’t been to Mac’s place in years. But as far as he knew it hadn’t changed location.
Chapter Seven
Ariadne drove down the mountain slowly, very conscious of Cross’s presence next to her. Something had changed in the dynamics between them. She had definitely seen a side of the man she hadn’t expected. It was hard to hate him now.
No, it’s hard not to be attracted to him.
She’d never met a man like this. Her mind traveled to Ben.
Much different from Ben.
Thank God.
“Turn left.”
He pulled her from her thoughts.
“Now right at the dirt road.”
Where the hell is this vet’s office?
They’d left the mountains behind and were well into the valley but nowhere near the little town that housed Mae’s hair salon.
There wasn’t a house in sight, nor any cars or people. She breathed a sigh of relief.
She studied the image of the mountains in the background, appreciating the majesty and purity of the untouched scenery. This was a beautiful place; she could understand why someone would want to spend the rest of their lives here.
If they didn’t have a death sentence over their head.
“Pull in here.”
She turned into the driveway that held a large building and a small cottage-type cabin in front of it.
The large building was a modified barn and office building, with pens made of chain link in the back.
In front of the building was the small cottage.
Ariadne turned the engine off and opened the door for Cross so that he wouldn’t have to juggle the little one while he tried to manipulate the handle blocked by the fawn’s body.
Cross stepped out gingerly.
She glanced at the unmoving baby. “How is he?”
“Still out.”
She grimaced.
“Mac’s probably in the cottage.”
They strode toward the front door. The cottage had a well-kept look to it. Definitely not abandoned. Almost made her think it was a woman’s touch that made it look like this.
“Hey.” Behind them, a voice called out.
She turned around quickly, while Cross did so slowly, careful not to jar the animal.
The woman who owned the voice was curvy, short, with short blonde hair and the clearest, most Caribbean blue eyes Ariadne had ever seen.
“Cross? Cross del Cruz?” The curvy blonde’s lips lifted into a smile. The blue eyes twinkled with delight.
A pang of jealousy that she knew very well she had no right to feel struck at Ariadne.
“When did you get back, Cross?”
Back from where, Ariadne wanted to ask.
“I haven’t been home long.” Cross kept his volume level low. “I have a patient for you. He may be in shock. I don’t see any injuries.” Then as if remembering, “Ariadne Fueller, meet Mac. MacKenzie Clarity.”
“Mac. Only Mac.” The blonde held her hand out, a smile still on her lips.
“Nice to meet you.” Ariadne shook the hand of the immediately likable blonde. It was hard to not like her, even when she felt that twinge of jealousy.
Mac took them to the large building and into a waiting room at the front.
“Let’s go to the first exam room on the right,” she told them.
She opened a door. Ariadne had barely stepped a foot in the door, when she had a change of heart.
“I’ll wait out here, if you don’t mind.” Ariadne couldn’t go to the exam room, a tiny room with no windows.
Anyone could come into the clinic and she’d never know. She’d be trapped.
She’d rather be in the waiting room, where windows would reveal anyone’s approach.
Being on the run sure had changed the way she viewed things. Not so very long ago, she’d never have thought of things like that.
Twenty minutes later, she was still waiting. A few minutes after that, the door opened and Cross stepped out.
Mac was behind him.
No sign of the fawn.
Ariadne found herself saying a little prayer that he hadn’t died. “Is he okay?”
“Buck’s resting,” Cross said.
“Buck?” Ariadne looked at him, curious.
“Can’t very well call him Bambi.” Cross shrugged. “Best I could come up with, in a pinch.”
“I’ll keep the little guy—Buck—here.” Mac was drying her hands off on a paper towel.
“Thanks Mac. I’ll come back in a few days to check on him. Maybe we can figure out a long-term plan for him.”
“I know just the people who can help with that.”
“I figured you did.”
A silence hung heavy in the air. Neither Mac nor Cross speaking. Ariadne looked from one to the other, wondering what the undercurrent was about.
Mac nodded. “Well…”
“Yeah,” Cross grunted.
“So, how is he?”
Cross rubbed his jaw, the whiskers scratching audibly. He shrugged, wide shoulders rising, then dropping with heaviness. “Haven’t really kept up with him.”
Mac nodded.
Who the hell… Ariadne wondered.
“You?” Cross asked.
“Me either,” Mac chewed on her lip.
The subject hung between them.
I’m minding my own business. I have enough problems of my own.
And yet, curiosity tugged at Ariadne’s mind.
She handed Cross his keys.
“Ready?”
Ariadne nodded.
Chapter Eight
The trip had been quiet. Ariadne didn’t offer much, and Cross wasn’t in the mood to talk. Mac had caught him off-guard when she’d asked about his brother Lance. She hadn’t even had to say his name.
Lance and MacKenzie had been together. Then one day they weren’t. Lance wouldn’t talk about it, and Cross never had a reason to visit MacKenzie, so he couldn’t ask her about it.
Thinking about Lance brought a measure of desolation to Cross’s heart. Three brothers, they’d grown up together in Mae’s care, rather than be separated to different shifter homes.
Mae. The one who always seemed to
be taking orphans in.
He glanced at Ariadne, noted her heart-shaped face reflected in the window she was staring out of. Her expression was pensive, her lips a somber line of uncertainty.
What’s your story?
Everyone that Mae took in had a story, whether shifter or human.
Was she one of Mae’s orphans? Seemed so now.
The questions were burning to come out. But he didn’t want to spook her. He’d find a way to ask later.
Cross pulled into the shed. He’d passed Buck’s mother on the road, and anger surged through him. He’d have to find out who the hell shot her. The locals didn’t pull that shit. Not in Bear Canyon. And the deer were on his property, so at the very least, the bastard who did that was trespassing.
A growl of outrage and agreement came from his bear, catching Cross off-guard.
I didn’t know you cared about the little one or his mother.
His bear rumbled a response.
He switched the ignition off and got out. Ariadne did the same.
“I’m going to bury his mother.” He reached for a shovel hanging from the wall, grabbed a tarp to wrap the doe’s body.
“Do you think you could let me borrow your computer?”
Odd question. He wasn’t sure he wanted to comply. There was no telling what she’d want to do with it. What if it were traced back to him somehow? Though he didn’t really think that was very likely. He had enough precautions in place to make signals bounce all over the world and redirect anyone who tried to look for his location.
He didn’t feel like discussing it right now though. He’d talk about it with her when he returned.
“Sure. When I get back.” That’d tide her over until he returned. Then he’d find out what she wanted it for.
He started walking with her down the path to the cabin, to make sure she arrived safely.
“I can get there on my own. Why don’t you take care of her, that way she doesn’t have to be out all night?”
Cross frowned. Why did it feel like she was trying to get rid of him?
I’m way too suspicious.
He’d finished placing Buck’s mother in the tarp, carefully wrapping it around her, and laying her in the hole he’d made in the middle of a patch of ground between several pine trees. With the back of the shovel, he was patting the mound of dirt he’d put in over her body, smoothing it out. He’d put a stone marker for her there tomorrow.
