by Tegan Maher
I couldn't argue with his logic so I crossed my arms over my chest and stuck my leg out. He turned his flashlight back on and examined it, then pulled out what felt like a 2x4 but was, in reality, only a half-inch sliver of gray wood.
"See?" he gloated, holding the splinter under the light for me to see. "That would have been nasty later, if you'd even seen it after it scabs over."
Instead of giving him the satisfaction of admitting he was right, I just leaned back and propped my elbows on the table behind me. "Thanks," I mumbled, avoiding eye contact.
"Jeez, stop with the gushing gratitude already," he snarked. "I probably only just saved your leg. After I saved your life earlier."
I rolled my eyes, though the effect was probably lost in the darkness. "Please. Now who's being a drama queen?"
He opened his mouth to respond, but the hair on my arms stood up a split second before a bolt of lightning cracked directly overhead, shaking the gazebo and lighting everything up in freeze frame, like a giant strobe light. The pungent smell of burnt ozone filled the air and my heart rate spiked.
I love a good storm, especially at night. There's nothing quite like that feeling of being wrapped in a power so much bigger than yourself that you couldn't do anything about it if you tried. It's both humbling and liberating.
I'm not going to lie—being caught in that gazebo with Zach, with the rest of the world shut out, brought back some feelings I'd locked in a little box in my mind labeled memories. After all this time, I'd never expected to see him again, let alone be trapped in a gazebo during a thunderstorm with him.
"So," I said, then waited for a clap of thunder to pass. "What exactly does a wildlife control specialist do? Honestly, the phrase conjures some older guy in a white button-down shirt pulling a possum out of an attic, not some guy skulking through the woods with a high-powered rifle."
He lifted a shoulder. "It's self-explanatory. You have the right idea, but I focus on large animals."
"So you're the guy who comes and gets alligators out of yards or raccoons out of attics, or goes on the hunt for wolves or coyotes that are eating sheep or have bitten people?"
One side of his mouth quirked up. "Something like that."
"So, how do you find jobs? And how do you get paid? Not being nosy—I'm honestly curious."
"I usually contract with the city or county, but not always. Sometimes there's a federal bounty out on the animal, and sometimes private citizens hire me." He shrugged. "I don't really do it for the money. I'm more interested in public safety, and the travel is nice."
I waited for him to continue. Instead, he cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So how did you end up as sheriff? I kind of always just assumed Sam would take up the torch when it was time."
I shifted my weight and moved a couple feet down the bench to get out from under a drip. "To be honest, I always did, too. He didn't want it. Said it would cut into his fishing time. Nobody else really wanted to step into it, so here I am. There aren't a lot of employment options around here, in case you've forgotten."
"I haven't forgotten," he said, raising a brow.
"But you didn't have to stay here. You could have left."
That struck a nerve, because no, I really couldn't have. The pack needed somebody high up the chain in this area because it was secluded and thus vulnerable to usurpers, but I couldn't exactly tell him that I was the daughter of the alphas of the pack and thus next in line. "It's complicated."
He nodded, still looking out into the darkness, then replied so softly that I barely heard him. "It always was."
Lightning cracked and lit up the entire area, and I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Just a quick flash, but it was there. The feeling of being watched crawled over my skin. Nothing should be out in this storm.
I decided not to say anything to him about it. Despite what he seemed to think, he was in way over his head on this one, and I didn't want to encourage him.
I stepped back. "Zach—"
Like summer rainstorms tended to do, the rain stopped as suddenly as it had started, and the moon broke through the clouds. That clean smell that always follows a hard rain replaced the smell of ozone.
I scanned the forest again, looking for any hint of movement, but all remained still. I tried to shake off the bad vibe, but it just wouldn't go away; maybe I'd come back in the morning to check it out.
Zach waited for me to start my car before he pulled out. I ran the events of the day through my mind while I drove home but nothing made sense. I felt like I had all the pieces of a puzzle, but no picture to guide me.
I pulled into my driveway, and when I went to grab my bag off the passenger seat, there was a piece of paper tucked into the front pocket. I pulled the damp receipt out by the corner, and checked the front; it was mine from earlier in the day. I flipped it over, and my wolf roared in rage and frustration when I read the words.
Better Luck Next Time.
CHAPTER FIVE
I TOSSED AND TURNED for most of the night, trying to make all of the pieces from the night before fit together. The last time I looked at my phone before drifting into a fitful sleep filled with creeping shadows and resounding rifle shots, it was four o'clock.
The crack of the shots grew louder and spaced closer together, and I jerked awake, ready to shift before I realized somebody was pounding on my screen door, not shooting at me.
Growling, I untangled my legs from the sheet and pushed myself to a sitting position. I could tell from the angle of light coming through my window that it was early and a one-eyed squint at my phone confirmed it: seven thirty.
I trudged to the door without bothering to throw a robe on over my tank and night shorts and yanked it open a few inches, scowling. If the sight of pajamas and bed-head bothered whoever was on the other side, they should have waited a couple of hours.
The bright morning light hit me in the face, blinding me, and when I put a hand up to shade my eyes, I groaned. A smiling Zach was standing there in a polo shirt and low-slung jeans, holding out a cup of coffee. When he saw me, his smile slipped a little, along with the confident look on his face.
He shifted his weight, then shoved a cup toward me. "I'm sorry. You used to be a morning person so I figured you'd be up. I wanted to make sure your leg was okay."
I heaved a sigh and pulled the door the rest of the way open, running a hand over my head to see just how bad the bed head actually was. From the feel of it, pencil trolls didn't have anything on me. Peachy.
Zach stepped into the foyer and handed me a steaming container that smelled like heaven in a cup.
"Thanks. C'mon in." I led him to the kitchen and pulled down a box of pastries I'd picked up the day before. Thankfully, my metabolism runs so high that I can eat like a laid-off lumberjack during football season without gaining weight, or else I'd be big as a house.
He took a seat at the table and placed his cup squarely in the center of one of the inset tiles. A corner of my mouth lifted. He'd always been just a little OCD and I'd found it quirky and charming. On the flip side, my complete lack of organization had made him a batty.
I was perfectly content having a clean laundry basket and a dirty one, while he no doubt folded his socks and stacked them according to color.
Pushing the pastry box toward him, I excused myself long enough to brush my hair and teeth and get dressed. I was still wrapping the scrunchie around my hair when I made it back to the kitchen.
"How did you know where I live?" It came out a bit snippier than I'd meant it to, so I added, "Not that I don't appreciate the effort. And the coffee." I sat down across from him and picked a Bavarian cream donut out of the box.
Zach shrugged as he chased a bite of apple fritter with a drink of coffee. "The beauty and the bane of living in a small town. All I had to do was ask the lady at the coffee shop and she gave me directions."
I ran a hand over my face. "Of course she did." I had no doubt he was talking about Mona, the owner and morning barista
at Mocha Locha's, the only real coffee shop in town. She'd been trying to sell me on the whole marriage thing since she moved into town a few years back. She probably saw Zach as prime real estate and didn't mean any harm, but I needed to have a talk with her about respecting my privacy. He could have been an incredibly good-looking ax murderer for all she knew.
"I'm sorry if I overstepped." He popped the last bite of fritter into his mouth and licked the crackles of glaze off his thumb and forefinger. I lost my train of thought for a second until I almost dropped my donut in my lap.
I waved my hand. "No, it's fine. You're not the one who overstepped. Mona is, but she's a good woman and she cares about me. She's just a little too trusting sometimes." I took another sip of my coffee, breathing in the aroma of cinnamon and chocolate. "I can't believe you remembered how I take my coffee."
He laughed. "I think you're the only person I've ever met who likes it that way, so don't give me too much credit; it's kind of hard to forget. Plus, I asked Mona just to make sure it was still your poison."
"So what do you think about last night?"
Zach shook his head. "The way the trail dried up, I must have just grazed it."
I nodded. "So what brings you here, then? Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but usually when people show up first thing in the morning with coffee, they're smoothing the way for a favor."
"I just wanted to apologize for last night. I didn't expect anybody to be out there, especially you, and I know you're not happy about me being here." He set his cup on the coffee table and rubbed his hands on his pants, not meeting my gaze.
That raised my hackles a bit. "So do you mean you didn't expect me to be running, or you didn't expect the sheriff to be out there?"
He grimaced. "A little bit of both, I guess. I usually prefer to work with the local law enforcement. I only went out to take a look, see if I could find any prints or anything, then when it started getting dark, I headed back to the trail, and there you were."
I raised a brow. "You went to take a look with a scoped rifle?"
"In my line of work, you never know what you're going to run into. Unlike some people I know, when there's a man-eating beast on the loose, I try to be prepared. Besides," he said, smiling, "it turns out that it was a good thing I had it."
I shoved back the irritation at the implication that I'd needed saving. He had no way to know that I'd been armed better than he was.
Zach picked up his cup, twisting it round and round in his hands while he waited for my response.
I heaved a sigh. "I can't stop you from doing your job. But we need to coordinate. I'm going to be heading up some searches and I don't want anybody to take a bullet by accident. Just please let me know when you're going to be out there, okay?"
He dipped his head. "That's fair." He went back to twisting his cup, and the silence stretched until it was awkward.
I waited for what felt like an hour but was probably only thirty more seconds, then I just couldn't take it anymore. "Is there something on your mind, Zach?"
He set his cup back down and shook his head. "Not really." He looked up at me, staring intently at my face for a long moment like he was searching for something.
I met his gaze, trying to get my own read, but his face betrayed nothing. "If something's on your mind, you should just say it."
He got up and wandered to the window, staring out over my backyard. Without turning, he asked, "What went wrong, Cori? Why wouldn't you leave with me?"
He'd gotten a job offer in Colorado and had asked me to leave with him. I begged my parents to let me out of my pack obligation, but they'd refused. They didn't want me to throw away my future to follow after a human. When they wouldn't give their permission, the only options I'd had were to stay, or to be excommunicated. I would have been cut off from my family and friends forever.
I understood why my parents made the call. It wasn't like we were an average family—my parents were the alpha couple—but I also believed I had a right to be happy. Shifter/human matches weren't unheard of. Heck, they weren't even that uncommon. They're not exactly the norm, but it happened.
"I couldn't," I said around the lump in my throat.
I'd used him as a yardstick to measure every man I'd met since then. Though the rational part of my brain told me that I'd romanticized him because no man is that handsome, or considerate, or kind, I couldn't get that logic to cross over to my stupid emotional cortex. Though I had to admit, the handsome part wasn't an exaggeration.
Zach nodded. "Yeah. That's the same thing you said at the time, and it still doesn't explain anything."
I pursed my lips, regret for what could have been washing over me. I shook it off; I've never been one for shoulda, coulda, woulda. "Things always work out the way they're supposed to," I said with a small smile.
"Maybe that's why I'm here now." The hope in his voice was the straw that broke the camel's back.
I pushed back from the table and gathered our empty cups and the pastry box, then rose and tossed them in the trash. I couldn't deal with that; I had two murders to solve and an off-the-rails werewolf to catch. I didn't have the emotional space for nostalgic echoes of what might have been. Nothing had changed.
"I probably should be getting ready to go in to work," I said.
"Sure." Zach stood and walked to the door, but turned around with his hand on the latch. "Maybe we could hang out sometime. No pressure. Just to catch up."
I ran my tongue over my teeth and smiled, hoping that my desire to push him out the door so I could regain my mental footing wasn't as obvious as it felt. "That'd be great, sometime." Judging by the pained look on Zach's face my smile was an epic failure.
What would be the point? I couldn't explain any better than I already had, unless I were to spill my guts. Even if that were a possibility, I could just imagine the conversation.
Hey, Zach. Did I mention I can turn into a wolf, so not only do you get a girlfriend, but you get a dog, too? Total package here. Man's best friend and a not-too-shabby date.
Yeah, no weirdness there. I struggled to come up with a valid reason why I couldn't hang with him, but drew a blank.
"Cori?" He was looking at me expectantly.
I snapped back to the here and now. He'd been speaking and I had no idea what he'd said.
"Yeah?"
A big smile spread across his face. "Great. Pick you up at seven."
"Wait! What?" I blinked, grasping desperately for any remnants of the conversation that the listening part of my brain may have picked up. Nothin’. Nada. I may have just agreed to run naked down Main Street for all I knew.
"Dinner at that diner out on Route 6. The Hobo, right? That used to be your go-to greasy spoon, and I know it's still in business because I drove past it on my way in. You still like it, right? If not, we can go somewhere else."
I smiled a genuine, non-crazy smile. Looked like we were catching up because there was no way to unring that bell without awkward backpedaling. "The Hobo will be fine." Besides, the little railroad-car-turned-diner was my favorite place, and I hadn't been there in a while.
He turned and strode down the walkway, calling over his shoulder, "Good. See you this Friday at seven."
I shut the door and leaned back against it, blowing my bangs out of my face. I'd opened the door to rekindling an impossible flame while there was a rogue werewolf loose in my woods. Awesome.
CHAPTER SIX
SINCE I WAS UP AND caffeinated, I decided to head straight to the office and dig in. Two hours after getting there, I was sitting with my feet propped on my desk, leaning back in my ergo chair, and chewing a pen cap, running everything through my head.
I did some of my best thinking there, but it just wasn't coming. I didn't have enough info, but I hated to wait for another body to learn more.
I picked up the phone and called my cousin Dani, who was the pack historian and also kept track of all the packs in our region.
"Hey, cuz," I said when she answered.
/>
"Well, well. If it's not the long-lost golden child," she answered, and I could hear the smile in her voice. We'd been best friends growing up, but she'd moved a few towns over to go to college, then took a job as a history teacher there.
I snorted. "I wish I could get lost." We spent a few minutes catching up, then I cut to the chase.
"I've got a rogue over here. He's killed two girls already, and if I don't get him, the pack, the FBI, and the Trackers are all gonna rain fire and brimstone down on me. Have you heard of anyone going off the rails lately?"
She paused for a minute, and I heard her tapping the keys on the computer, no doubt pulling up the extensive database she kept and shared with other packs. She was trying to build a criminal database for shifters so that we'd have a better chance of spotting risky behavior.
"Nope," she said after a few minutes. "There were a few minor crimes an hour or so away from you last week, but that turned out to be teenage hi-jinx. We haven't had any violent reports at all. You know my system hasn't been well-received by all packs, so that doesn't necessarily mean anything."
"Thanks for checking," I said, deflated. "If you do hear of anything will you let me know?"
"Of course, sweetie. Anything else I can do for you?"
I started to say no, but then thought of something. "You still keep track of Trackers, right?"
"Sort of," she said, "though they don't travel in a group like they used to. Last we checked, there were only twenty of them left. Many of them got old and didn't have kids to pass the trait down to, and others lost the taste for it after they settled down. Most of them now are second generation and don't remember the wild days."
"That doesn't hurt my feelings," I told her. "Can you track them down and give me a heads up if you find out any of them head this direction?"
"Sugar, that was already on my to-do list. We keep a close eye on them. I'll run a check just to make sure, but as of a couple days ago, they were all where they were supposed to be."
