“Okay,” she told herself in the mirror as she rinsed the toothpaste from her mouth. “So it felt good and I liked it. There’s nothing wrong with that. He’s a good looking man and I’ve had little enough to feel good about lately.”
Bull pounded on the door. “Come on, spitfire, get that skinny ass of yours out here. I’m hungry.”
The thing inside her was hungry, too, but Tommie didn’t think it was food the beast hungered for. And once again, Tommie didn’t argue.
~*~
The waitress’s eyes widened a bit in disbelief when Tommie ordered two super double cheeseburgers.
“Are you sure you can eat all that, honey? Why don’t you order one and see how that fits before you order another. They’re awful big burgers for such a little girl.” She gave Bull a conspiratorial wink and thrust her oversized breasts in his direction. “Kids eyes can be bigger than their bellies, if you get my drift. You her uncle or something? ‘Cause you sure don’t look old enough to be her daddy.” She raised her eyebrows and ran her tongue across her lips in what she probably figured was a sexy invitation. “O’course, I wouldn’t be complaining if you were my daddy or uncle or something,” she added suggestively.
Tommie’s insides churned and she pulled back her lips in a mean looking smile. “You’d better be careful, honey,” she threatened in a little girl voice that mimicked the waitress’s. “The last girl Mom caught flirting with Daddy ended up with thirty-six stitches. In her face,” she added for good measure. “Isn’t that right, Daddy?”
“You really are her father?” The waitress looked to Bull for verification.
Bull kept his head down and traced the crack in the laminate tabletop. His shoulders shook slightly.
“He’s older than he looks,” Tommie supplied. “It’s all that surgery, but you know all about that, huh?” She looked pointedly at the woman’s breasts. “Mom says he’s so old he can hardly get it up...Ow!” She bent to rub the spot where Bull’s blunt toed boot had caught her shin.
“That’s enough,” he pointed at Tommie, “Mind your manners before this old man puts your butt in a sling,” and then to the waitress. “I’ll have what she’s having and keep the coffee coming.”
“And add two more burgers to go and a slice of that chocolate cake for dessert, please.” Tommie felt that as the victor, it was only fair to be polite. The cake was in celebration of the victory and the empty calories wouldn’t hurt.
“That was unnecessary. She was only trying to be nice,” he scolded when the waitress left. “And I’m not that old,” he added with a frown.
“Pfft.” Tommie flicked her hand at him dismissing his comment. “Maybe you’re not older, but you’re a whole lot dumber than you look if you thought that was nice. That,” she emphasized the word, “was an attack. She knew damn well you weren’t my father and I’m not a little girl. And you asked for it. You didn’t cut her off, so I was left with two choices. I could crawl in your lap and stake my claim, or I could play her game and beat her at it.”
“Stake your claim?” he asked and his mouth twitched as if he was trying not to laugh.
Should she tell him truth; that he’d already become hers? That she’d always been like that? Her parents, her friends at school, and later, the homeless and down-and-outs she’d cared for at Harbor House; she’d fought for them, nurtured them, and protected them as best she could. She’d bonded with them, especially the women. She felt their fear and understood their worries. Her successes with these women led to the most painful part of her job. She had to let them go. The doctors had a lot to say about that, too; her need to gather people to her and call them hers.
Admittedly, her current feelings had nothing to do with pathologically overblown maternal instincts. With Bull, it was something else entirely and it wasn’t just sexual. Though she couldn’t deny that the attraction was there, big time, she knew there was something more even if she couldn’t define what it was.
The thing inside her hummed in agreement, which brought back the question Tommie had been asking herself since she awakened from the best night’s sleep she’d had in years.
“Is it true?” she whispered, forgetting her thoughts had not been spoken aloud.
“What?” he asked and the twitch of his lips turned into a smirk. “That you were staking a claim? Or that the tits are fake?”
“Neither,” she laughed in spite of the seriousness of her question. “And it’s not nice to call them tits.”
“It wasn’t real nice of you to call them fake, either,” he argued.
“I told you, that was female warfare,” she argued back, just a little proudly. “Every time she aims those torpedoes at someone she’s going to wonder if they’re admiring or speculating. And don’t tell me that men don’t care because it’s not about what men think. It’s about what she thinks.”
He laughed. “And here I thought you didn’t have it in you. You are a cunning little bitch.”
“I’m full of surprises and bitch is another not-nice word.”
“It is if you really are one,” he said quietly and his raised eyebrows again brought Tommie back to the question.
The other, more matronly looking waitress on duty brought their coffee and winked at Tommie instead of Bull. Tommie winked back and when the waitress left, turned to Bull.
“You said trust works both ways, so I’m trusting you to tell me the truth. Is what you said while we were in bed true? About what I am, I mean. Or am I what everyone else says I am? Was I dreaming again or was it real?” She knew what she was risking. If he’d played her for a fool before, she’d look like a bigger fool now, but she had to know.
Bull looked surprised and a little embarrassed and that was all she needed to tell her it wasn’t a dream. He had held her and whispered those words against her hair.
The thing inside her knew the word, too. “Wolver.”
And Tommie repeated it. “You told me I was a wolver.”
Bull closed his eyes and let out a whistle of air before he nodded. “And you told me I was crazy.”
“Yeah, well, you have to admit, for someone with my history, believing there’s a wolf inside you is right up there with believing you’re Joan of Arc.” She sat back against the booth and waited.
“You’re not Joan of Arc,” he said. “You’re a wolver. Like me.”
Tommie wiggled in her seat, her anticipation both exciting and terrifying. “Can you prove it?”
“You’ve already seen the proof. You saw me take out those two guys in the street.”
“That looked like a dog, a big dog,” she said, but as she said it, she recalled the shadow on the wall and the flash of light. “Is there...?”
“Don’t ever refer to a wolver as a dog,” he said and she could tell he wasn’t kidding. “You might hear it said between friends, but they’d better be friends and it had better be a joke, or there’s going to be a challenge.”
“A challenge?”
It was like explaining a complicated game to someone who’d never seen or played it. For every piece of information he offered, Tommie had a question and for every question, Bull had an answer, which only led to more questions. If this was, indeed, some fantasy world that he’d created in his mind or made up for her benefit, it was the most complex one she’d ever heard of. By the time they were on their way back to the room, her head was aching with the attempt to process it all.
It should have been totally unbelievable and maybe it was, but the voice in her head was silent the whole time they spoke and the thing inside her curled into a relaxed and contented ball as if, after all this time, it had finally found the place where it belonged.
“Not thing,” she whispered in wonder, “wolf. I have a wolf inside me. When can I see it?” she asked.
Chapter 10
Watching her dance circles around him in her eagerness, Bull could easily see her as the girl the waitress accused her of being. Her face had already lost some of its sallowness and her cheeks were flushed from
excitement and the cool of the autumn air. Bull had seen that look on girls of fifteen in anticipation of their first time going over the moon.
“You don’t see it,” he told her. “You are it. You can’t separate one from the other.”
It wasn’t a total lie and he saw no reason to tell the complete truth; she couldn’t separate one from the other, but he could. Her wolf was no more connected to her than she was to it and would be more than happy to cooperate. The lower functioning animal mind would eventually forget the human half ever existed.
Thomas, and damned if he’d ever get used to that name, grabbed his hand and swung his arm up and back, along with the bag of take-out burgers. “Not me. You. I need to see it, Bull. You know, trust but verify.
“All my life, I’ve felt this thing inside me. I’ve heard its voice since I was fifteen. I can’t control it. I can’t win against it. It twists and turns inside me. It growls and snarls and claws at me. It wants to get out. It has to get out and I can’t fight it anymore. I can’t live like this anymore.”
She swung around to face him, not laughing now, but looking up at him with a vulnerability that scared the hell out of him. He was responsible for that look of hope and fear. He was responsible for her. He wasn’t good at being responsible for anyone but himself.
“I want to believe, Bull. Oh, God, you have no idea how much I want to believe. That’s why I need proof that what you say is true and not just something I want to believe. I did that once and ended up in that cage.”
This was what he’d planned to ask about once they were back in the room, but maybe this was better. They’d been about to cross the street in front of the motel when they’d stopped and Bull glanced over her shoulder in a quick calculation of the benefits of continuing their conversation out in the open during a casual stroll versus the more intimate but confining walls of their room.
He abruptly pulled Thomas back into his arms with a muttered curse. Startled, she stiffened in the embrace and didn’t relax when he bent his head to her ear.
“They’re here.”
He turned to point her face toward the motel’s glassed in office. A car like the one from the night of her escape was parked under the archway in front of the door. Two men in security uniforms were talking to the clerk and the clerk looked nervous.
“I thought you said we were safe here,” she whispered as if the guards would hear if she spoke too loudly. Bull could feel her heart pounding against his chest. “How did they find us?”
“When you didn’t go home, where else would they look? They saw you not far from here. They’re probably checking every flea bag motel in the area.”
Bull steered her a few feet farther along the street until they were beside a parked car. He pushed her back against the door and braced his hands on the hood to either side of her head and bent his head to hers, shielding both their bodies and faces from view. If the guards looked up, all they would see was a guy putting the moves on his girl.
“Are you feeling brave, spitfire?”
The way she was shaking, he didn’t think so, but she nodded her head gamely and asked, “What are we going to do?”
“Not we. You. You’re going to walk by that office and make sure they see you. Move fast, but don’t run unless you have to. Let yourself in the room and lock the door behind you, but don’t chain it. You don’t want to make it too hard, but if you make it too easy they’ll be suspicious. Once you’re inside, don’t stop. Head for the bathroom and lock that door behind you. It won’t hold, but it’ll buy a few more seconds. Get that skinny little ass of yours out just like you did before.” He lifted her chin, the lover about to kiss his girl. “Can you do it?”
She nodded again. “What do I do then?”
“Nothing. Step back into the bushes and wait there until I come and get you.”
“You promise you won’t leave me?”
“I promise. I won’t leave you behind.”
She nodded a third time. “Give me the bag,” she said of the sack of leftovers.
“We don’t need it.”
He went to toss it away, but she stopped him. “You don’t. I do.”
~*~
Don’t run, he’d said, but that was all her legs wanted to do as she crossed the street, swinging the plastic bag in a wide arc at her side; a girl in a very good mood having just said goodbye to her lover. When she neared the car, her swing continued up over her head, landing on the trunk with a thump. The clerk and guards looked up at the noise.
“Oops.” Tommie giggled the word with a shrug of apology and continued on her way with a little skip of pretended happiness. She knew they were watching her and heard the office door open just as she reached her room. Her hand shook as she inserted the key, but the door opened easily. Once inside, she ran, grabbed the duffle, the backpack, and the few plastic bags, and headed to the bathroom. Door locked, window open, she scraped everything from the sink counter into one of the smaller bags and threw it out first. The duffle was bigger than she was and probably weighed as much. She wasted precious seconds stuffing it through. The backpack and other small bags went next.
Someone was at the door before she had time to lower herself feet first. She had no choice but to dive through. The door crashed open as her hands reached for the ground, but before her legs had a chance to follow. She screamed as hands grabbed her ankles and tried to pull her back. She kicked and thrashed and screeched again when she collapsed on her head in the dirt, her new boots left behind.
There was a frightening roar of anger from inside the room and a curse right behind her as the guard pushed his shoulders through the window in an attempt to grab her. Her hairbrush had fallen from the bag to the ground and she grabbed the handle. She scrambled to her feet and swung the brush, bristles outward, into the guard’s face. His arms flailed and he cursed again, this time with the pain.
Tommie kept swinging until a hand grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him inside. There was more thumping and grunting and then the small room boomed with the echoing sound of a gunshot followed by another grunt and thud as a body fell.
“Bull!” What if that sound was Bull? What if he needed help?
Brush-weapon in hand, Tommie reached for the window ledge and hoisted herself up with shaking arms. Head above the sill, she was met by a familiar scowling face.
“You need work on following orders,” he said as he pried her fingers loose and let her fall back to the ground. The boots landed next to her. The window slammed shut.
“Yes, sir!” she muttered, as she saluted the closed window with her middle finger. “Next time I’ll obediently watch while they shoot the crap out of you.” She pulled on her boots and gathered up what had spilled from the bags and waited impatiently for the truck to pull around and pick her up.
When it did, Bull immediately jumped out and began stowing things behind the seats. “When I tell you to do something,” he told her with an angry tinge to his voice, “I expect you to do it.”
“I did,” she snapped back. The smell of something coppery hit her, irritating her nose. “I got their attention. I locked the door. I went out the window.”
“Then where did all this shit come from?” He tossed in the last bag, then left the passenger door open and rounded the hood to his own open door. “Get in.”
“Well excuse me. I thought you might need it.” She reached across the seat to hoist herself up.
“I don’t.” Bull’s hand grabbed hers. He grunted as he hauled her in. “Now buckle up.”
She was about to make a snarky remark about him having an endless supply of handcuffs somewhere when her foot hit something solid on the floor. She pushed it aside, heard it clunk against something else and looked down to see what was in her way. There were two handguns on the floor. She worried about Bull being shot, not Bull doing the shooting. “Did you...? Are they...?”
“No to both questions. We don’t need any more dead bodies.” He pulled out onto the main road and nodded in the dir
ection of the guns. “Those belong to the security guards.”
“Guards don’t carry real guns, only the stun kind.” She’d heard Stu and Buster complain about it enough.
Bull gave her a look sour enough to curdle cream. “They do now.”
“But why?”
“Gee, spitfire, let me see,” he said, rather snidely Tommie thought. “Two dead orderlies, Nurse Shitty, an escaped patient who’s been kept like an animal in a cage,” he listed, “and one lethal new employee, but no cops or news reports. Now we have goons with guns. Any thoughts circling in that not-so-level head of yours?”
“Yes, but they’re mostly about you and they’re not very nice, so I’d prefer not repeat them.” To think she’d actually been worried about him.
She folded her arms across her chest and stared at nothing out the passenger window. It was killing her not to, but she refused to show the least bit of curiosity when Bull pulled into the largest shopping mall in town and circled around the anchor stores to the back where the movie complex was located. He found a space in the middle of the fourth row back and parked.
“Don’t move,” he said as he reached for the door handle. “And see if you can grab another shirt out of the duffle.”
“Oh? You mean the bag I remembered to bring?” she asked sweetly. She turned to rummage through the bag. “Pretty difficult not to move and to look through the bag at the same time. Hmmm, which order should I obey?”
“Fuck.”
Tommie’s head snapped up. “Listen, you bullheaded...Oh my God, you’re hurt!”
“No shit.” He’d already thrown the denim jacket on the seat and was pulling off the bloody tee.
Tommie was out of the cab and tearing open the driver’s door before the shirt was over his head.
Wolver's Rescue Page 9
