by Paige Tyler
As they sat there in silence, Rachel glanced around the room before turning back to Hadley, in part to take in the modern, slightly edgy decor, but also to give herself a chance to get a read on the woman behind the desk, a woman she’d only just met yet was somehow supposed to bare her soul to. It was a daunting proposition. It had taken all Rachel’s courage to talk about her nightmares to her two pack mates—and to Knox. She couldn’t imagine how she’d be able to do it with Hadley.
Even using the doctor’s first name felt odd. They’d gotten that issue out of the way while the two of them had been standing in the reception area with Knox and Diego, shaking hands and exchanging names. Hadley seemed to think it would be easier to talk if they kept things informal. Rachel wasn’t so sure of that. She could walk up to any random stranger in the street and call them by their given name. That didn’t mean she wanted to confess to them that she was a complete mess.
“I can only guess what’s going through your head right now, but trust me when I say you aren’t the first person who’s sat in that chair, feeling apprehensive about opening up and talking about the things that scare them,” Hadley said. “Things they’d rather keep buried.”
“But we can’t keep scary things buried, can we?” Rachel murmured, not sure if she was talking to Hadley or to herself. “Or they’ll come out on their own.”
Hadley nodded, her dark eyes full of empathy. “Unfortunately. Our minds have a way of forcing us to confront our issues whether we want to or not. And it seems like the harder we fight the process, the more painful it becomes. But I suspect you already know a little something about that.”
Rachel rested her elbows on the arms of the chair, clasping her hands on her lap. “How much did Sergeant Dixon tell you about what happened yesterday at the courthouse?”
While Diego had texted her yesterday to say Hadley would see her this morning, Gage had been the one who’d set up the appointment.
“Very little, actually. He mentioned there were issues you needed help with and asked if I could fit you in this morning, but he didn’t give me any details.”
Rachel sighed. She appreciated her alpha had gone out of his way to help her while still keeping her secrets, but in some ways, it would have been a lot easier if Hadley already knew everything. Then Rachel wouldn’t have to be the one to tell her.
“Maybe it would be easier if we started out with you telling me why you’re here,” Hadley suggested when Rachel didn’t say anything. “Don’t worry about why Sergeant Dixon thought you might need my help. What do you want out of these sessions with me?”
Figuring she was going to have to start talking at some point, Rachel took a deep breath and threw herself in the deep end of the pool. “I’m here because I keep seeing and hearing things that aren’t there. I think I’m losing my mind, and I need your help to get my head screwed back on straight before I end up killing someone I care about.”
Hadley placed her reading glasses on the desk, then sat back in her leather chair, a surprised look on her face. “Having someone be so honest this early in the conversation is refreshing to say the least. Knowing I don’t need to worry about you grasping the importance of these sessions makes my job much easier, that’s for sure.”
Even though there was nothing remotely funny about the situation, Rachel gave her a small smile. “I thought you’d appreciate my desire to get everything out in the open. I wouldn’t have agreed to come if I didn’t think this was serious.”
“Out in the open is good,” Hadley replied with a smile. “So, let’s start with why you think you’re losing your mind, which is a completely unacceptable phrase, by the way. I’ve been doing this for a long time and I’ve never found anyone’s missing mind hidden in the couch cushions or under a coffee table.”
Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. Thank goodness she’d found a therapist who could make her do that.
So she told Hadley about the clown attacking her in Chattanooga, leaving out the whole werewolf thing, but being honest about the endless nightmares, visions, phantom smells, and her sudden aversion to mirrors.
“I’ve known for a while I was experiencing symptoms that are probably associated with PTSD, but yesterday at the courthouse, it all came to a head,” she added. “Right in the middle of an assassination attempt on an ADA by four highly trained killers, I saw the scary-ass clown from my nightmares. I froze. Actually, I pretty much lost it. That’s why I’m here.”
Rachel thought she’d done a good job of summarizing the situation, but Hadley asked a lot of questions about things she hadn’t included, like what the clown looked like, how bad her injuries had been after the attack in the graveyard, and whether she’d talked to a psychologist when she’d still been at the Chattanooga police department. Although she didn’t like thinking about the clown, they were all easy enough to answer. But then Hadley wanted to know how she usually dealt with the stress of her job, what her sex life was like, and about her relationship with her family. Rachel didn’t think of herself as shy, but Hadley seemed to have no problem digging into parts of Rachel’s life that were usually off-limits.
“You said before you’re worried you’ll kill someone you care about,” Hadley said, changing the subject so quickly Rachel almost got whiplash. “Is there anyone in particular you think is in danger?”
Rachel considered that. “My teammates on SWAT. The civilians who trust me to do my job. And Knox, of course.”
Hadley sat forward, resting her forearms on the desk. “Is there some reason why you think Knox is in more danger than the other people you mentioned?”
She shrugged. “I suppose because Knox always seems to be the one around when I have an episode. On the bright side, he’s also the only one who seems to be able to put me back together when I lose it, so maybe I shouldn’t complain.”
Hadley regarded her thoughtfully for a long time, and Rachel could practically see the wheels spinning in her head. What the hell had she said that was so interesting? She was about to ask when Hadley tossed her another question out of left field.
“You used the term episode,” the therapist finally said. “Could you describe what one of these episodes is like and exactly what you’re doing right before it occurs?”
Deciding she didn’t even want to try and explain the impossibilities of her and Knox chasing down a speeding SUV in a mall parking garage or how she’d ripped out a few throats in the basement of the Dallas County Criminal Courthouse, Rachel instead decided to go with a trimmed-down version of what happened in her apartment the other night. But that wasn’t what Hadley was looking for.
“Now, tell me the story again, this time in detail.”
“What kind of detail?” she asked, afraid she already knew.
“I want you to close your eyes and walk me through the episode from the moment you walked into your apartment until it ended. Do you think you can do that?”
Rachel groaned silently. She wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but she supposed she could handle it, especially if Hadley thought it might help. So she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then plunged right in. It wasn’t long before she realized why Hadley wanted her to close her eyes. It definitely forced her to go deeper into the memories than she would have done.
She described the smell that had hit her in the shower and how much it rattled her, the way she’d rushed out of the bathroom expecting to find something dead right there in her living room. Of course, the worst part of rehashing the event in that level of detail was the way it brought the events rushing back with a clarity that was almost eerie. For a moment, she imagined she could actually pick up the rancid odor right there in Hadley’s office. She shook it off, knowing that wasn’t possible.
As she was relating what had happened in the kitchen, Rachel felt goose bumps along her arms, then down her back, like cold air had brushed across her body. Distracted, she stumbled to a halt with the story, but
when Hadley didn’t say anything, Rachel got it back together and kept going.
She’d reached the part where she saw the clown’s face in the glass door of the microwave when a sudden, familiar chuckle made her jump out of her skin.
She opened her eyes and just about died. Hadley was gone and in her place was the clown she knew all too well sitting behind the desk. A split second later, the clown was out of the chair, launching himself across the desk, his hands going for her throat.
Rachel screamed.
* * *
“I think the receptionist is interested in you,” Knox said softly as he and Diego sat in the waiting room of Dr. Delacroix’s office. The room was surprisingly large, with potted plants everywhere and a water feature against one wall that gave the room a tranquil feel. “She’s been eyeing you since we sat down.”
The dark-haired Diego casually glanced at the pretty, blond receptionist at the desk near the entrance. The woman must have noticed the surveillance because a smile immediately curved her lips even though she was going out of her way to keep her eyes focused on her computer.
Diego wordlessly turned his attention back to the wall in front of them, but Knox didn’t miss the slight grin tugging at the man’s lips or the way he kept looking at the receptionist out of the corner of his eye. Knox opened his mouth to inquire whether Diego was going to ask her out, but the other werewolf spoke before he could.
“So, you’re a hunter who became a werewolf,” Diego said in a low voice, not looking at him. “You realize how incredibly ironic that is, right?”
Knox had been wondering when the guy would bring up the hunter thing. “Yeah, Rachel made the same observation. She also grilled the hell out of me concerning every stupid decision I’ve ever made, of which there were many. But in the end, she must have decided there was something redeemable about me, since she agreed to help.”
Diego seemed to consider that answer for a moment before nodding, his mouth twitching again. “Rachel’s pretty sharp when it comes to judging people. Which is why I was shocked when I found out she’d gotten close with you. I’d assumed that, given your background, she would have reacted differently.”
Part of Knox wondered if Diego was pissed Rachel hadn’t slapped cuffs on him and dragged him off to jail, while another part of him wondered if the other werewolf was jealous. Rachel might have said she and Diego were just friends, but it seemed like there was more to it than that.
Since he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask, Knox decided to go with the truth—for his part at least. “To be honest, I was a little surprised when she said she’d help me. Considering I assumed the best I could hope for was a little advice on how to keep this werewolf thing under control, I definitely never expected all this.”
“All what?” Diego asked, still not looking at him.
Knox opened his mouth to explain but closed it when he realized he had no idea what the hell to even say.
“It isn’t that difficult a question,” Diego said. “What didn’t you expect?”
Knox leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “It’s complicated.”
“There’s a woman involved. Of course it’s complicated.” Diego chuckled. “And since that woman is Rachel and a werewolf, it’s also confusing.”
Knox snorted. “I’m not exactly sure what this thing between me and Rachel is or where it’s going,” he admitted. “All I know is that, when I’m with her, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life. I know it sounds cliché, but being with her simply feels right.”
Diego finally turned and regarded him thoughtfully, though in some ways he also seemed almost deflated. “It’s not so crazy really.”
“No?”
“I’m going to ask you a simple question and I want you to answer it without thinking. Just go with your instincts.”
Where the hell was Diego headed with this? “Go ahead.”
“If Rachel comes out of her session with Dr. Delacroix and says she needs to move to the Amazon rainforest and live in a grass hut to keep her sanity, what would you say?”
“I’d go with her,” Knox said without hesitation, his dislike of rainforests be damned. The thought of Rachel going somewhere without him made his stomach twist itself into knots.
Diego looked both disappointed and resigned at the same time. “Yeah, I thought you might say that. Has Rachel ever mentioned The One to you?”
Knox frowned. “The one what?”
Diego let out a sigh. “It’s complicated, but basically, it’s a theory about werewolves and soul mates and how you know when you find that person.”
“Soul mates?” Knox made a face. “Isn’t that…I don’t know…make-believe?”
The receptionist glanced their way, and Diego flashed her another smile before turning back to him with a scowl. “Make-believe? You mean like werewolves and vampires?”
“Okay, I guess I see your point. So you think Rachel and I are soul mates? How is that even possible? I mean I was a frigging hunter for Pete’s sake.”
Diego’s mouth edged up. “That’s the magic of it all—it pulls two people together against all odds. You’re The One for her and she’s The One for you. Where you both started doesn’t matter. It’s where you end up.”
Knox thought about everything he’d gone through the past year—seeing Lawrence bleed out, leaving the SEALs, falling in with the hunters, locking eyes with Rachel at that wedding reception, getting shot and becoming a werewolf, chasing Rachel all over the place. Now that he thought about it, maybe everything in his life had happened exactly like it was supposed to so he could end up here with Rachel, a woman absolutely perfect for him—a woman who gave him the one thing he’d always seemed to be searching for.
Two chairs over, Diego let out a short laugh and shook his head. “You know, when Rachel showed up and joined the team, I was kind of hoping she’d be The One for me.”
So Knox was right about the jealousy thing Diego had going on. He should have felt the green-eyed monster breathing down his neck, too, but he didn’t. Did being The One mean you never got jealous because you knew no one could ever come between you and your mate?
He sat back in his chair. “Does she know you feel that way about her?”
Diego’s smile was rueful as he shook his head. “No. She’s always thought of me as a friend and I never said anything. The moment I saw you two together yesterday, I knew she and I are meant to be just that—friends. I’m okay with that.”
Knox wasn’t sure if it was that easy, but before he could say anything more, a nasty smell hit his nose, almost making him gag. He thought for a moment it was his imagination, but then Diego sat up straight, his eyes locking on the door to Delacroix’s office.
“What the hell?”
He and Diego were already on their feet when a blood-curdling scream from the doctor’s office tore through the air and right through Knox’s soul. He charged for the door, his fangs and claws extending whether it was a good idea or not. Diego was on his heels, a growl rumbling through the man’s chest.
Knox shoved his shoulder against the door, telling himself to be ready for anything, but what he saw on the far side of the office froze him solid because it didn’t seem real.
Or possible.
Hadley Delacroix was gone—though heaven knew where she went, since the door he’d busted in was the only way in or out—and now a clown wearing white face paint, a garish, red smile, and frizzed-out, fiery-orange hair was in the room with Rachel. The thing had one hand wrapped around her neck and was choking the life out of her as she dangled a foot above the floor. Rachel struggled to free herself, but the clown was too strong.
Knox cursed, forcing his body to move. He was halfway across the room when the reality of what he was seeing finally hit him. It was the clown from Rachel’s nightmares and it was trying to kill her.
It was real.
Knox barely had time to catch Rachel before she crashed to the floor. Even then, they both took a tumble. Tightening his arms around her, he twisted his body in midair, so his shoulder and back took the brunt of the impact.
Out of the corner of his eye, Knox saw Diego heading for the clown, clearly intent on taking the monster down. But instead of shying away from the heavily muscled werewolf, the clown stepped forward and backhanded Diego across the room. Diego slammed into the wall beside the door, knocking off the landscape painting hanging there.
Knox jumped to his feet and strode toward the clown with a snarl, his claws extended further than he’d ever seen them. The clown squared off against him, that same demented smile on his ugly face.
“Don’t hurt it!” Rachel shouted from behind him. “Hadley is in there!”
Knox slowed, not sure what the hell Rachel was talking about at first, but then he realized the clown wore the same colorful dress Hadley had been wearing when he’d met her in the waiting room earlier. It made no sense, but somehow, the clown was inside Delacroix’s body.
Shit.
Knox retracted his claws. Rachel was right. He couldn’t hurt the woman. The clown. Whatever the hell this thing was. Unfortunately, the clown didn’t have the same issues with causing damage. Taking advantage of Knox’s hesitation, the thing surged forward and punched him in the center of the chest.
It was like being hit by a truck, and Knox swore he heard a crack as something near his sternum broke. He didn’t even realize he was flying through the air until he slammed into the big wood desk. It collapsed under him, wood fragments going everywhere—including into his back.
