Jungle Blaze (Shifting Desires Series, #3)

by Lexy Timms

  “She forced you to change,” Angelica grabbed his arm, wanting him to listen to her. To really listen. If this was what was bothering him. “That pheromone spray—”

  “Not her,” Taylor said and shot her a look. “Griselda.”

  She sat back, her hand dropping to her lap.

  Oh. That her.

  Suddenly chilled, Angelica stared at the air conditioning controls as though that were to blame for the way her hair stood up on the back of her neck. “I thought Randall said that...”

  “Randall said,” Taylor spoke over her, “that it was too soon to figure, but he was looking into it.”

  “You couldn’t have helped that.” Angelica tried reaching for him again, but he shook her off.

  “I was too pissed. I wasn’t thinking straight. I did it just because I wanted to see fear on her ugly face. After everything she’d done to so many people, I just wanted to see her blanch and stammer and wet herself in...” He choked off the rest of what he was going to say. “Because she hurt you,” he finished, his eyes still steadfastly on the road.

  It wasn’t fair. She couldn’t accuse him of not letting her help him, or of not paying attention to her words. He could use the excuse of driving to distance himself from the emotions that all this was bringing up. To distance himself from her. Angelica sighed and bit her lower lip.

  Just talk to him. Tell him that you miss him, that it doesn’t have to be so...

  But the moment had passed. The truck slowed, and Taylor signaled to make a turn. “We’re here.”

  The timing was terrible. Angelica had finally worked up the courage to say something. She snapped her mouth shut and looked.

  The woods of Northern Minnesota are packed close together, and great grasses and weeds filled in the gaps between the boles. It gave the impression of a solid wall of green, thick and impressive as any medieval fortress. The wall looked unbroken on both sides of the narrow road, as it had for the past fifteen minutes which was about where they’d left the main road.

  Unerringly, Taylor turned the truck in to a hole in the wall Angelica didn’t even see until they were almost on top of it. He took it slow, but the ruts and holes were still very impressive and the truck bounced and rocked. Angelica braced herself by holding on to a handle over the door and realized suddenly that that was exactly why it was there.

  Once he pierced the edge of the wood, the rutted cow path became a road again. The further in he went the better maintained the road became, until they were back on pavement, on a road wide enough for two trucks to pass comfortably.

  She had the oddest sensation, like she was Alice just passing through the looking glass.

  “Are you nervous about seeing your parents again?” Angelica asked. It finally occurred to her that he’d been away for a long time. It might be that part of his churlishness was... fear? It was an interesting thought: the man who took out an entire drug cartel and broke up a slave trade ring was scared of meeting his parents again.

  Angelica thought of her mother and let herself feel grateful that she had no such fears. On the other hand, she hadn’t just betrayed her mother’s biggest secret to someone who wanted to dissect her.

  Taylor either hadn’t heard her or was ignoring the question. Angelica let it go. It was just another inch separating them, and considering the gap already in place it didn’t seem to make much difference anymore.

  A dog barked and she turned to see a golden lab mix running after the truck, tail in the air like the periscope on a submarine, running flat out.

  A long field to the right showed horses in the distance who frolicked and took off, running a few steps, feeling the warmth on their backs and the open pasture under them.

  Taylor drove up to a three-story farmhouse that she hadn’t even noticed until now, so intent was she on the scenery It was white with blue trim and looked like it came out of a Norman Rockwell painting, and could have been used for a Farm Fresh Good to Your Table advertisement. It was a little too much like the one in Field of Dreams, and for a moment she wondered if this had all been a set-up. Or had she just gotten engaged to Opie, and Sheriff Taylor was waiting somewhere just around the corner.

  On the porch a man in jeans and blue shirt stood smoking a cigar. He watched the truck snake up the drive and casually reached behind him for a shotgun. She wondered if that might be Taylor’s father. Then he took it and aimed it loosely at the cab of the truck, and she hoped that it wasn’t just by virtue of the fact that he was so terrifying.

  “Taylor,” Angelica said, her eyes fixed on the barrel of the gun, “maybe you should tell him who you are.”

  “He knows,” Taylor said glumly as the truck drew even with the porch. “That’s why he’s got the gun,”

  Chapter 5

  “I told you I was coming,” Taylor said, climbing out of the truck.

  “And I told you not to bother.” While the man wasn’t exactly aiming the gun, he wasn’t putting it down either. Angelica decided to wait in the truck.

  “Harold Mann! You put that down this instant.” A tall, rather statuesque woman came out of the house and stood for a moment, arms akimbo, a scowl on her face. Finally, when no one seemed inclined to back down, she walked around him and stood between the two men, facing down the shotgun as though it weren’t there at all. “I said put that damn fool thing away.”

  The shotgun lowered, and after a long moment he replaced it behind him, leaning it against the wall. He threw himself into a large two-person swing hanging from the crossbeam on the porch. His arms were crossed, and even from here Angelica sat could see him seething.

  Harold Mann. Taylor’s father? No...

  Now that she got a look at his face and could see something besides the barrel of the gun, it occurred to her that he was a young man, younger than Taylor, but built around the same lines. The woman turned and hurried off the porch and came to greet Taylor.

  She moved like a dancer and had the erect bearing of an aristocrat. Angelica guessed her age at late forties and assumed it was Taylor’s mother. So, the one with gun was expressing some sort of sibling rivalry? What have I gotten myself into?

  Mother and son embraced and Angelica got out of the truck cautiously, keeping a wary eye on the one called Harold. That shotgun was still within easy reach.

  “Mother, this is Angelica.”

  Taylor’s mother turned swiftly. Gracefully. Her face split in a wide smile. She came to Angelica with her arms open. She caught her up in hug that nearly took the breath out of her. “Welcome, my dear!”

  Angelica thought ‘gushing’ was too crude a word for a lady like this. She didn’t gush, she was... exuberant. For all the stereotypical farmhouse and farmer’s wife, she seemed sophisticated in her mannerisms and in how she carried herself, as if pretending the current role.

  “Please,” Mrs. Mann said brightly, “come in, come in!”

  Angelica hesitated perhaps longer than polite. But no matter how much she tried to get her feet to carry her in that direction, they just didn’t want to take her there. Maybe she’d faced down too many bad guys already but she’d had enough guns pointed at her to last her lifetime, and wasn’t keen on repeating the experience.

  Mrs. Mann looked from Angelica to the porch and sighed, clearly exasperated. “Oh, pay him no attention—it’s an old argument,” She waved off the homicidal Harold as if he were of no importance.

  I sure am not going in there alone...

  Angelica caught Taylor’s hand. “Should we get the bags?” she asked through gritted teeth, dying for a moment alone where she could beg maybe for a ride to the nearest town. Or airport. She didn’t belong here. And obviously wasn’t welcome.

  “Not yet,” he said, never taking his eyes off Harold. “Not yet.”

  Either he wasn’t getting her signal to talk, or he did and wasn’t about to give her the opportunity. On the up side of things, at least he wasn’t exactly clamoring to move back in.

  I’m not happy about this.

  It
wasn’t that she was a coward. It was the fact she was going where she was clearly not wanted by at least one person, and was being welcomed with a cautious, if distant warmth by the other. It would have been nice to have Taylor’s support, but once again he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts she might as well have been walking up to the house alone.

  “Your father is gathering up the council,” Taylor’s mother announced as she gestured for them to be seated in a very pleasant living room. The furniture was heavy, made of wood, with a thick fabric upholstery over it. Furniture that could endure use by large cats if necessary, she realized. The décor had no fragile knick-knacks, though there was an abundance of art on the walls. Photographs that were portraits of people in bright colors, candid shots warred for space with black and white pictures of ancestors who wore heavy clothing and had faces that showed a grim resolve. Paintings of street scenes from around the world hung next to folk art. In all it gave the room an eclectic, homey feel. Angelica imagined it in the winter, with a fire in the fireplace, and being able to sit curled on that massive couch with one of the books tucked into the long low bookcase that ran underneath the window.

  It looked like a good place to grow up. And not what she expected for Taylor at all, given the sparseness of his own apartment.

  Taylor’s mother bustled in with a platter of cakes from the kitchen, and a pitcher of lemonade alongside a pot of coffee. “They’ll all want to hear this, I suspect. I’m not sure if I should ask you to speak, or have you wait until everyone gets here. I’m positively dying of curiosity myself.” Her eyes rested on Angelica as she said this.

  Angelica blushed and stared at her hands. “Council?”

  Taylor’s mother smiled. “Town council. If what you said is true, it’s something everyone needs to hear. Can I offer you coffee? Or maybe you’d like something cold?” She motioned to the tray.

  “Coffee’s fine,” Angelica murmured, thankful for the distraction.

  “Of course it’s true,” Harold said, slouching against the door that led to the kitchen. “He would know all about it, wouldn’t he? He’s the fucking cause of it.”

  “HAROLD!” Taylor’s mother snapped. “You will not use that kind of language in this house. Profanity is for the weak of mind and for fools who cannot express themselves intelligently.”

  “Whatever I have to say,” Taylor said, pointedly not looking at Harold; instead, busying himself with a slice of cake, “I will say to the full council and let them decide.” He lifted his fork, using it to point at what Angelica assumed was his brother. “Not you.”

  “I already decided,” Harold said, taking a step into the room fists balled.

  “ENOUGH!” Taylor’s mother jumped to her feet, physically putting herself between them the way she had outside. “Both of you.”

  “I apologize,” Taylor said rather stiffly, “but I will not get sucked into a useless conversation, only to have to repeat it all over again when cooler heads arrive.”

  Harold glared at him for a long moment and spun on one heel, heading out the front door and slamming it hard behind him.

  Not exactly the happiest of families, is it?

  “Angelica?”

  She turned to see Taylor’s mother regarding her.

  “I’m sorry about all that. Harold is a very passionate young man, and the nature of Taylor’s departure left him soured.”

  Taylor stared at the table, mute, his cake forgotten on the plate in his hands. He looked to be more in pain than angry, as though an old ache was coming back to trouble him. “Mom’s on the council,” he said quietly, “as is my father.”

  “Among others.” His mother smiled. “By the way, dear, I don’t recall Taylor finishing his introductions. My name is Nikki.”

  “Angelica is a doctor, too,” Taylor said, looking up finally, and trying to smile.

  Nikki immediately brightened. “Really? Do you have a specialty?”

  “General practice,” Angelica said, quietly. The mug of coffee in her hands felt warm. Reassuring. Now that Harold was gone she found herself relaxing marginally.

  “She’s been working for Meadowlark.”

  Angelica’s head shot up. He sounded... proud? She hadn’t realized he felt that way about her work. Their gazes met awkwardly but he still smiled at her, the same way he had before... this last month.

  “Meadow—Oh, that’s the organization that puts up clinics in jungles, yes? That took over Doctors International. So you’ve been practicing somewhere remote, I take it?”

  “Yes,” Angelica said, not really wanting to go into it now that’s she’d effectively quit. She still had no idea what she was doing next. Though meeting Nikki gave her a certain measure of hope. Maybe if other shifters could hold down normal jobs, it wasn’t such a crazy thought that she could get this under control and do the same. “Do I take that to mean you’re...”

  Nikki laughed and waved the question away. “I haven’t practiced in years. I mostly help out locally when someone has a headache or indigestion.”

  “That’s because most injuries can be resolved by shifting.” Taylor was speaking to Angelica, but his gaze never left his mother’s face.

  Nikki couldn’t hide the gasp. Her eyes widened and her head swiveled to her son. She blinked and turned back to Angelica. “I hadn’t realized that your relationship was so... committed.”

  “Mom,” Taylor said, glancing uneasily in the direction Harold had stormed out, as though worried he might be lurking on the other side of the door. “We have a problem.”

  “I would say so,” Nikki’s voice, while still gracious, was a few degrees cooler.

  Tell me this isn’t just me noticing this. That there isn’t a bias toward those of us who are... I don’t even know what to call it. What’s the shifter term for muggles?

  “Angelica is having problems with her shifting.”

  Nikki blinked, then turned to Angelica. “My dear,” she said, her voice surprised, her look assessing, “you are quite the surprise.” She sipped her coffee, stalling for time. She looked at Taylor, several questions building in her eyes. “There is a legend about some of us, a precious few who struck out on their own ages ago. If she’s...”

  “No mother,” Taylor interrupted. “She’s a lioness. Not tiger.”

  Nikki looked at Angelica as if seeking verification. Angelica nodded and carefully set down the coffee before she spilled it. Oh, yes, this was going to raise all kinds of questions. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this.

  “And...” Taylor continued, “the shifting capability was artificially created. It was done to her without her permission.”

  Yeah, that ought to do it.

  Nikki stood slowly. “Your father will be home for dinner, but not before. Why don’t you two come with me. It sounds like you have quite the tale to tell.” She paused and lifted an eyebrow at her son. “Angelica, dear, I wonder... there is a woman of my acquaintance whose opinion I would very much like to have. I wonder, would you mind if I sent for her?”

  “No.” Angelica shrugged. With the... cat... out of the bag, there was little point in trying to hide what she was. Word would get around a community this tightly knit quickly, she suspected. She might as well face the inquisition now, as opposed to later. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Taylor, I wonder if you would be kind enough to give Mrs. Petrov a ride? Bring her around to the barn when you arrive, please.”

  Taylor nodded, and just like that left. He didn’t even say goodbye.

  Sick to her stomach and glad she hadn’t tried eating anything after all, Angelica watched him leave. She saw him get into his truck from her seat near the window and wondered what would happen if he didn’t come back.

  It was a stupid thought. But the feeling of abandonment persisted, especially as Harold came up and blocked the view.

  Chapter 6

  Somewhat mystified, Angelica followed Nikki out to the barn. Why they were headed there she didn’t know, but since Taylor didn’t
seem worried leaving her with his mother, she guessed it was safe enough. Especially as overprotective as he’d been with her lately.

  Another problem that needed fixing. But not now.

  Angelica had never actually been on a farm before. She looked around with interest at the flowers planted in front of the house, and the neat gravel path they were following down to where a red barn nestled into a hill a short distance away. Up close the structure was massive, far bigger than she expected. But even that was neat with fresh paint, right down to the white trim around the windows and door.

  “You have a nice place,” Angelica said, in quiet wonder. After the constant noise and hum of the jungle, or the racket of the refugee camp, this world seemed absolutely unspoiled. Even the birdsong, the hum of insects, was a soothing sound that chased away the noisy bustle of D.C. and the frantic energy of the airport that still seemed to buzz in her head. “I’m actually kind of a city girl. I grew up in L.A. Not that far from Hollywood.”

  “Thank you. It’s our refuge.” Nikki sighed and looked around. Her face seemed sad and her gaze lingered on the buildings, and the horses that ran in the distance. It was a lovely bucolic scene, yet Nikki had the air of someone saying goodbye. “This land wasn’t easy to get,” she said after a moment. “But we built it up, piece by piece, and it’s served us well for many years.” Her tone was wistful, and there was a certain mistiness in her eyes. “It would be a shame to lose it.”

  “Do you think you’ll have to?” Angelica asked as Nikki braced herself against the barn door.

  “I hope not. That’ll be up to the council to decide. I just hope we all have the wisdom to face the hard choices.” Nikki pulled the door open just enough for them to slip through, and led the way into the darkness of the barn. Angelica hesitated and then followed her in.