by Aubrey Rose
"Just a cup of coffee," Wren said. She would have gotten it herself, but the coffee machine was behind the counter.
"What?" He held the headphones away from one ear to hear her.
"Coffee."
"Oh, yeah. One sec. Fresh batch." The teenage boy mumbled, the tip of his tongue sticking out one corner of his mouth as he moved to make a new pot of coffee. Wren sighed and waited as he made the coffee, his body swaying to the soundless music inside his headphones. He turned around with the fresh pot in one hand and pulled down his headphones around his neck.
"To go?"
"Excuse me?" Wren asked.
"To go, or are you staying here?"
"Uh, I'm staying here." Wren darted a glance outside.
"Cool. Okay, then." He poured the coffee into a large ceramic mug and pushed it across the counter to her. "Just bring the cup back when you're done." He pulled the headphones back onto his ears and sat back down.
"How much?"
He had already closed his eyes, and Wren tapped him on the shoulder.
"Yeah? What?"
"How much for the coffee?"
"Free coffee as long as you get gas with us. You're staying here, right?"
"Right." Wren stood confused, holding the ceramic mug in her hands.
"It's like, a welcome present. Welcome to Maugham. Come back and get gas with us. Cool?"
"Cool," Wren echoed.
"Cool. See you later," the teenager said, and slipped his headphones back on.
Wren walked across the parking lot to the hotel, sipping the coffee. It was surprisingly good—rich and dark, with a nutty flavor, and it warmed her. The man at the hotel desk looked down at her motorcycle jacket and then at the mug she held in her hands.
"Did Shawn give you that for free?" he asked gruffly.
"Um. Yes," Wren said, shifting uncomfortably.
"Good," the man said, equally gruffly. "Dumb kid forgets everything most days. Welcome to Maugham."
"Thanks," Wren said. "Can I get a room?"
"Nope," the man said.
"What?"
"Rooms're all taken," the man said. "We only got four rooms. Could get you in tomorrow night maybe."
"I—well, I really need a room for tonight," Wren said, taken aback by his brusqueness.
"You could camp up on the ridge," he said. "Talk to the ranger."
"Ranger? What ranger?"
"That ranger," the man said, pointing. "Dawson. Hey, Daws!"
Wren turned to see who he was talking to.
It was the topless man from the side of the road. He was still half-naked, his shirt hanging loosely over one shoulder, and Wren couldn't help but swallow hard as she took in his body from up close. In his late twenties, maybe early thirties, the corner of his eyes wrinkled from either age or years in the California sun. His chest was slightly scarred, she noticed, the white seams of skin running from one shoulder down across his abs. His exquisitely sculpted abs. She blinked.
"Dawson Recke," he said, holding out one hand.
"Pleasure to meet you," Wren said, shaking his hand. He leaned against the hotel counter, so easy and confident that she found herself attracted to his manner despite herself.
"You know, Matt," the ranger said, "this lady drove right past me on the road and didn't even offer me a ride."
Wren blushed fiercely.
"That your motorcycle out near the gas station?" Matt asked.
"Yes," Wren said. "Well, it's a rental."
"I would've made such a good passenger," the ranger continued. "You wouldn't have hardly noticed I was there."
"I wouldn't even let you in the back of my pickup after you been working the trails." Matt growled the words, but Wren could hear a hint of laughter in his voice. "Lucky she didn't just run you over with how much you stink."
"Guess you're right," the ranger said, laughing.
The keenness that Wren had seen in the man's eyes before was gone. He seemed like a dumb outdoorsman, nothing more. She wondered if she had been imagining his glance down at her license plate. Maybe there was nothing there. She was jumping at shadows.
"Anyway, this little lady wants to camp up on the ridge."
"Camping?" The ranger turned to look at her.
"Here, let me take that," the hotel clerk said, reaching out for Wren's empty coffee cup.
"Thanks," she said.
"See you later, Daws."
"Later, Matt."
Matt shuffled out the hotel door and across the street to the gas station.
"So. Camping," Dawson said.
"Not really camping," Wren said. "I was planning on staying at the hotel here, but it's full. I don't even have a tent."
"What are you up here for?"
"Vacation," she lied. "Just wanted to get away from it all for a while."
"Well, you found the right place. Nothing at all around here. Not even hotel rooms."
"Do you think I should ride up to the next town?" Wren wanted to stay near the place Tommy had been killed, but not if it meant sleeping on the cold ground.
"Riding along these curves... not quite safe in the dark. Hey, you can stay in the fire lookout."
"Fire lookout?"
"Here, let me show you." Dawson turned and walked out without waiting for an answer. And Wren, to her surprise, found herself following him willingly. She tried to keep her eyes off his back and was completely unsuccessful. Oh well, she thought. Look, don't touch.
Dawson led her around the back of the hotel to a trailhead, and they began to walk up the side of the steep hill. She darted glances all around as they hiked up. One. Surroundings.
"Sun sets fast around here," he said. "Moon should be up soon, though, so it won't be completely dark."
"What is this place? A fire lookout?"
"Yeah. They used to have them all over the place. Kind of like a lifeguard tower, but instead of watching for drowning people, you watch for wildfires."
Dawson stepped over a large fallen tree trunk and held out his hand. Wren took it gratefully and was surprised at his strength as he helped her keep her balance as she climbed over the trunk. Her mouth went dry at the touch of his fingers on her palm, but the feeling quickly faded when their hands parted. She was here on a job, she reminded herself. And her boyfriend was waiting at home for her.
"So there's someone staying there to watch for fires?"
"Not anymore. This one's abandoned. So are most of them, really."
"Why?" Wren found herself panting as they reached the corner of a switchback. She had thought that she was in good shape, but the steep hike made her lungs burn.
"Well, now that we have webcams installed at the tops of all of the lookouts, it doesn't make sense to have people staying in all of them. They have one person who watches all the cameras for signs of fire."
"And all the other fire lifeguards... were fired?"
"Exactly." Dawson laughed, a thick rich laugh that made something inside Wren's chest twist. "That's the new economy for you. One guy doing a hundred people's job."
They reached the fire lookout. It did look remarkably like a lifeguard tower. Dawson let her climb up the wood ladder first, then followed. The roof covered a single platform with a log railing around all the edges, completely bare except for a cot in one corner. But the view—
"This is incredible," Wren said, leaning over the wood rail. Underneath her, the black pines fell away in a dark cascade down to the edge of the water. The coast stretched out north and south as far as her eyes could see. The sun already was half-set, and as it sank down into the horizon of the ocean, the thin lines of clouds in the sky turned red and orange and pink.
"Can't beat the view," Dawson agreed. "I love coming up here to watch the sunset."
She looked up to see him gazing out at the water. The sun was reflected in his light eyes, and as it dipped below the horizon she saw the gold irises turn dark. He blinked, and she looked away, swallowing her feelings. Back to the mission. Everybody was a suspect. Even th
is guy, with his soft gaze and hard muscles and sunset-watching.
But no. She knew predators, she'd met dozens and dozens of them. This man was no predator. She thought about what her dad had said—to trust her instinct. And every instinct in her told her that she didn't need to worry about this man. If she was being honest with herself, every instinct in her told her too that she should rip off the rest of his clothes and throw him to the ground and—
"What was your name again?" he asked.
"Wren," she blurted out, too startled by the interruption of her thoughts to lie. "I mean, my name is Isabel. But my friends call me Wren."
Dammit! How had he pulled down my defenses so quickly?
"Nice to meet you, Wren." The ranger held his hand out and she took it, her eyes flitting down so that she didn't have to look at his face, his chest. "That is... I hope I'm a friend."
She looked up at him and knew in her gut that she could trust him, but her smile was still tight, guarded. "I hope so, too."
"Hey—before it gets completely dark. You see that roof down there? Next to the two tall pines?"
Wren looked down and found the small brown rectangle he pointed out.
"The wood shingled one?" At the place where the trail had separated farther down the hill, one of the paths led up to the lookout and the other led to the roof he pointed out.
"Good eyes. That's my cabin. You need anything, you can walk down the trail and take the other fork up to where I am."
"Thanks," Wren said. She looked over at the cot; there was a sleeping bag folded up underneath. That would be fine. She glanced back at the opening they'd climbed through. "Is there... there's no lock."
"No doors, no windows, no lock," Dawson agreed. "But you'll be fine. Only thing to worry about here's the wildlife, and only the squirrels can climb ladders."
"I'll be fine," Wren repeated hollowly. She thought of the shifter out there. In the woods. She hoped he hadn't seen her yet.
"Unless you're scared of squirrels." The ranger grinned at her. "But I think you can fight off a rogue squirrel or two. You look like a woman who can take care of herself."
Wren stole a quick glance up at him to make sure he wasn't being sarcastic. His face, though, was sincere, his eyes tawny and soft.
"And like I said, I'm right down there. You give a shout and I'll be up here in a split second."
"Okay," Wren said. "I'll make sure to scream if a pack of wild squirrels attacks me."
"You do that. G'night," Dawson said.
He climbed down the creaking wooden ladder and left her alone. Wren watched in the quickly dimming light as he moved through the trail down towards his cabin and became just another shadow among the trees.
Chapter Nine
Tommy.
Wren woke up shivering under the blanket, the shifter attack at the front of her mind. She'd kept her gun next to her, but it couldn't protect her from the nightmares that had filled the night. Glad to be awake, she stretched and looked out over the railing to the view below.
Everything was white. A sea of fog covered the forest around her, and the sky was overcast, the clouds pressing down and mixing with the fog. She could only see the tops of the pines nearest the fire lookout, their black branches piercing the thick white veil. From farther down than that, the sound of waves breaking on the cliffs carried through the air in a low murmur. She could not see the coast at all.
She rolled the sleeping bag up and left it on the cot. Walking down the trail, she felt acutely uncomfortable, and she kept her gun out and to her side. No way was she letting the shifter blindside her the way Tommy had been blindsided. She passed quickly through places where the trail narrowed. Every rustle in the woods made her jump, and by the time she reached the trailhead she was as awake as she'd ever been.
Down at the gas station, she found the teenager slumped over the counter, snoring. She went around the back of the counter and fixed a mug of coffee for herself, leaving him asleep. Scarfing down a protein bar, she swallowed the hot coffee in between bites to mask the taste.
She called Olivier's number from the pay phone out front.
"Who is this?" he asked, as soon as he picked up.
"I love you too, honey," Wren said, holding the payphone to one ear as she sipped her coffee. Technically, she wasn't supposed to contact the outside world, but she knew Olivier would pitch a fit if she didn't check in with him.
"Wren? Where the hell are you?"
"California." For some reason, Wren was not in any mood to placate Olivier. Most times she would bend over backward to reassure him, but today all she could think about was Tommy and the reason she had come here. She couldn't wait to find the shifter.
"Wha—what are you doing in California?"
"Work," Wren said. "They called me out here to take care of something important."
"You can't do that! We have a party to go to tonight, remember?"
"I'm sorry, Olivier. I can't make it." Her fingers tightened around the phone. She hated it when he told her she couldn't do something. It only made her clench harder to the work that she had come here to do.
"You can't—listen, Wren, this is the party with the committee head. This isn't just some bullshit cocktail thing you can skip out on. This is my chance to make an impression."
Wren gripped her coffee mug in her hand and took a sip. A party. That's why he was angry. Not that she was gone, but that she couldn't come to a party with him.
"Olivier—"
"You are being so selfish right now, I can't believe it. This is my one shot to really get ahead, and you're ruining it! For what? Some stupid little assignment?"
Wren's chest tightened in anger. She gritted her teeth and tried not to explode in rage. In her mind, she saw Tommy's face. The image of him tracking through the forest swam before her eyes and she forced down the feelings that threatened to burst from her.
"I'll be back for our weekend trip, I promise," she said, trying to speak calmly.
"Screw the trip." The words hissed through the phone's receiver. "I need you here tonight."
"I—Olivier—I can't be there. I'll explain when I get—"
"I don't need you to explain. I understand perfectly. You leave me in the middle of a dangerous situation with a criminal who tried to kill us—"
"He didn't try to kill us." Wren leaned her forehead against the wall and focused on breathing. Inhale, exhale. Tommy, stepping through the woods. The shadow of the bear.
"—and you didn't even take your cell phone so I could call you—"
"I'm out in the middle of nowhere, there's no cell reception here—"
"This is my one shot, Wren. My one shot to impress the committee head. And you're ruining it."
"Olivier, this assignment is important to m—"
"It's not important! What, it's more important to you than I am?"
In her mind, Wren saw the bear's paw slashing down onto Tommy's arm, and for a second she couldn't speak. She swallowed and bit down on her lip hard to try and make the image go away.
"That's not what I—"
"Because if you think that I'm going to let my one chance at getting the committee on my side just slip away because you're so attached to some goddamn assignment, you're wrong!"
Wren was silent, boiling over with fury. Every time Olivier wanted her at a party, he ended up ignoring her. And every time he guilted her into going to the next party, because every time was "his one shot" to get ahead. She was sick of it. Sick of the politics, sick of being a piece of arm candy.
She thought of Tommy, how he promised her that he would track down the shifter who had paralyzed her dad.
"Wren? Wren, stop being so ridiculous. Cut this out and come home, and—"
Wren hung up.
Anger sizzled through her body, but she didn't need emotion clouding her judgment right now. She was on a job, and she would finish it, no matter what. For Tommy. The pay phone rang but she ignored it.
She changed clothes quickly in the gas sta
tion bathroom, tucking the gun into her jacket and out of sight. The teenager at the counter was still asleep.
"Hey, excuse me?" Wren poked his arm. "Shawn?"
"—don't stop. Don't. What?" He looked up, his eyes bleary. "Oh, hey. It's you. Do you want some coffee?"
"Already got some," Wren said brightly, sliding the empty mug across the counter to him. "I was thinking of doing some hiking. Know any good trails?"
"Um, yeah. Sure." The teenager rubbed his eyes. "There's the one trail goes up to the fire lookout."
"That's where I was last night," Wren said.
"Oh. Oh yeah, right. So, you want a long hike, or what?"
"I'd like to explore a bit deeper into the forest."
"Kay. There's a loop that goes—here, here's a map."
He shoved a sheet of paper her way. She saw the trailhead behind the hotel which led up to the lookout and the ranger station. Next to it was another trailhead, and that was the one Shawn pointed to, yawning.
"Round the whole forest, basically. You go over a stream, and then up some, then it crosses back over. It's like, maybe ten miles round trip. Long loop."
"That sounds perfect." Wren folded the paper and tucked it into her jacket pocket.
"Wait," Shawn said. "You have water?"
"Water?"
"It's a long hike. Morning's foggy, but later it'll be hella hot. You'll want water. There." The teenager pointed behind Wren, to a pyramid of water bottles. She grabbed two of them and threw a five dollar bill on the counter.
"Thanks. Keep the change." Wren smiled inwardly. A pothead teenager, and he still thought ahead enough to worry about her. Nice kid.
Four miles into the hike, she wished she had brought more than two bottles of water. The fog had rolled out quickly, and the sun was hot, despite filtering down through the branches of the pines. It was humid enough here that the warmth made her sweat, and she wiped her face with her shirt.
The trail was steeper than she had thought it would be, and she spent a lot of time walking off on side paths, trying to find some evidence of a bear shifter. So far, nothing.
It was not until another mile or so that the trail started to turn down and the sun was completely blocked out by the thick pines. Her shirt was soaked through with sweat and now, down in the shadow of the mountain between two ridges, a chill ran through her. She walked faster now, gun still at the ready. Trudging across a trickling creek, she lost her balance slightly and pitched forward on the stones. Catching herself on the creek bank, she looked up, and what she saw in the bush took her breath from her lungs.
