Blackstone Ranger Guardian: Blackstone Rangers Book 5

by Alicia Montgomery

  Chapter Seven

  “Can I get you anything? Coffee? A sandwich?” Damon asked. “Did you get anything to eat at all?”

  When was the last time he’d eaten? Krieger wasn’t sure. What time was it when Dutchy woke up and threw him out of her room? “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

  “You don’t look fine,” Damon insisted. “What the hell happened? What are you doing out here?”

  What was he supposed to say? That Dutchy woke up and freaked out the moment she saw him? His chest tightened, remembering the sheer pain on her face. But worst of all, he could feel her mistrust and loathing at the mere sight of him. His bear, too, raged at the visceral reaction from her, and it did not like it one bit.

  “Krieg?”

  He looked up at Damon. “Can we talk about something else?” He needed a distraction. Maybe he should have taken Damon up on his offer of food. But his stomach was tied up in knots, and he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep anything down, not when things weren’t right between him and Dutchy.

  Damon sighed and grabbed an empty chair from across the room. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “How are things back at HQ?”

  His lips pulled back. “I’m short two rangers. How do you think things are going?”

  He winced. “Sorry. I’ll get back as soon as I can—”

  “I know.” Damon scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, I meant what I said about you taking the time you need. Hell, you’ve probably earned it since you’ve never taken a vacation.”

  “You said you’re short by two people. Who else is down?”

  “Who do you think?” Damon sighed. “Stevens. He’s working things out with his mate. Shows up sporadically, but basically, he’s been hanging around Darcey for days.”

  The blonde they’d chased down. He’d forgotten about that. “And how are things going?”

  “Dunno. Daniel’s got the info, but he’s tight-lipped. He’s hoping they work it out since Darcey happens to be his sister-in-law. By the way, I hope you don’t mind, I told him what you told me about Anders and all those girls. At first, he couldn’t believe it, but I told him the info came from you, so now he’s trying to help reform Anders’s playboy image.” He let out a chuckle. “Of course, it’s not helping his reputation at work. I think some of the guys feel betrayed because they think he’s some kind of lady-killer hero.”

  He huffed. Of course, he understood on some level what that was like. He winced in shame now, but he’d once reveled in the action and thrill of chasing pussy. Women hadn’t been in short supply, especially around the base. But that had been a different life. “Did you—”

  The door to Dutchy’s room opened and immediately, his body went on full alert. But the flash of red hair wasn’t his mate’s.

  “Ma’am,” he said to Dutchy’s aunt. “How—how is she?”

  Rosie eyed him warily. “Awake.” She paused, then straightened her shoulders, her pale blue eyes flashing. “What happened between you and my niece?”

  Krieger wasn’t surprised she’d figured it out. “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No.” Her hands fisted at her sides. “But someone better damn well tell me before I lose my mind, and that someone better be you, young man.”

  Young man? Sheesh, he hadn’t been called young in ages. But the stern look on the female’s face—not to mention the fierce determination he could sense in her animal—made it difficult to deny her. “We’ve … met before. A few months ago. In that big snowstorm.”

  And so, he told her what happened. Each word was like reliving the whole damn thing again, but she wanted the truth and so she would have it.

  By the time he was done, Rosie’s face had gone as red as her hair. “You just … rejected her? Told her to leave? After what you’d been through together?” Though he didn’t give her every detail, she obviously guessed their time together in his cabin wasn’t some innocent sleepover. “Tossed her aside like trash when you were done with her?” The words cut deep, but how could he deny it?

  “Rosie,” Damon warned.

  “No.” He waved his friend aside. “She’s right.”

  “But she doesn’t know. Neither did Dutchy. What happened to you … it changes a man.” Of course, only Damon could understand why he needed to push Dutchy away. He’d gone through it himself. PTSD was a fucking bitch.

  But he didn’t know this was how things would end up. “I’m sorry for hurting her, but I’ve been working on myself.” Didn’t she know, change didn’t happen overnight? “I was … I was trying to be better, for her.”

  Rosie was practically vibrating with anger. “Better for her? Staying with her, completing the mating bond, that would have been better for her!”

  He was at a loss for words, and the only thing he could do was apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Your sorry doesn’t make her better,” Rosie spat. “It won’t make her the same again.”

  “It’s not his fault she was run over by a car,” Damon reminded her.

  Rosie turned a razor-sharp gaze on Krieger. “But it is your fault she’s not healing.”

  “Me?” he asked, puzzled.

  “It makes sense now. It’s the only explanation.” Rosie’s nostrils flared. “The doctor … he said some shifters, when they go through a traumatic experience, they can feel disconnected from their animals. Some lose control while other shifters lose their abilities. That’s why she’s not healing. Because of what you did to her. You broke her!”

  Krieger and Damon’s eyes met. Based on the chief’s face, he knew what he was thinking. They had gone through similar paths after all, and they knew what it was like to lose control of your animal. A hot ball curled up in his chest, making it hard to speak.

  “Rosie, please,” Damon began as he gingerly put a hand on her arm. “Is there anything I can do? Just say the word.”

  The fox shifter sighed. “I don’t know, Damon. I—” A ringing sound interrupted her and she fished her phone from her purse. “Hello—Angela! Thank goodness. You should come … all right. Give me a moment.” Glancing at the two men, she covered the mouthpiece of her phone. “I need to speak to Angela privately. I’m going to find a quiet corner. Excuse me.”

  Krieger stared after Rosie as she walked away. “I need to see her, Damon.”

  Damon’s dark brows slashed downwards. “Rosie won’t like it.”

  “Just five minutes. Please … if she comes back—”

  “All right. I’ll take care of it,” he promised. “Go. You might not have enough time.”

  Rolling his shoulders back, he reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly. Dutchy was looking outside the window, so she didn’t notice him sneak in. He crept quietly, not making a sound. But she must have sensed him approaching because her head turned. Pale blue eyes widened as a myriad of emotions crossed her face, none of them comforting to see.

  “Don’t—”

  He halted and put his hands up. “I won’t come any closer. Not if you don’t want me to.”

  She let out a long breath. “I don’t want you to. I don’t want you here at all.”

  Each word was like a cut of a razor on his skin. “Please, Dutchy. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She flinched, like she had been hurt. “I told you to leave.”

  “I can’t. You know that, Dutchy,” he said. Please, he prayed silently. Please be all right.

  “You did fine enough these past months,” she spat bitterly.

  His heart sank, but he deserved that. “Let me explain.” He took a tentative step forward. “I had to—”

  “No! Stay away!”

  “I can’t, Dutchy. Not anymore. I’m here now.”

  “But you have to,” she cried. “Please.”

  “Just tell me what’s the matter? Why aren’t you healing properly, Dutchy? And why are you scared of me?”

  Her lower lip trembled. “Can’t you feel it?” she said through gritted teeth. “My
animal?”

  Wait. Why didn’t I think of that? Their animals had known instinctively they were meant to be together. Mine, he recalled his bear saying the moment he looked into her pale blue eyes. And hers had called to him too. He remembered the pretty little creature, how it had preened for him and flirted as they walked down the mountain. Surely, Dutchy would listen to her animal. So, he reached out to her vixen. “I—”

  The reaction he got wasn’t what he expected.

  Loathing.

  Distaste.

  Rage.

  “Dutchy?” he rasped.

  She sobbed. “Can you feel it now? My fox … it hates you.”

  His bear roared in furious denial.

  Chapter Eight

  Despite what had happened, Dutchy didn’t hate Krieger. Sure, she felt used and discarded after being unceremoniously dumped at that ranger station, but sadly, dating in New York had prepared her for that kind of disappointment. No, she understood that despite sexual chemistry and attraction, sometimes a relationship just didn’t work out.

  But her fox didn’t quite agree.

  The first few days when she got back home after being trapped in the mountains with him, she had this pathetic fantasy that he’d changed his mind. That he would come after her, tell her he had been wrong to push her away and make some grand gesture to ask for forgiveness. They were mates after all. They were supposed to be together from now on. That’s what happened to all her friends—Kate, Amelia, and Sybil. They were all claimed and bonded by their mates and now happy with their families.

  But why did John leave them? Why didn’t he want to bond with her and start their own brood? Surely, he was feeling the pain of their separation as keenly as she was?

  Every shadow she saw, every male she bumped into, she thought was him. Her fox had been hopeful, too, its head and ears perking up each time she thought John was there. But weeks passed, and it was obvious she wouldn’t see him again. And that’s when her world spiraled. It wasn’t a swift plummet to the bottom, rather a slow decent that slowly chipped away at her. What the doctor said … yes, she did experience a traumatic experience. Her mate’s utter rejection.

  “Dutchy?” Horror clearly marred his face. “What the hell happened?”

  Her lips peeled back. “What do you think? Don’t you see, John?” Because for the first time in months, it was finally crystal clear to her. “When you left me, I went into a depression. I tried to claw myself out of it, but the more I struggled, the harder it pulled me down. I lost interest in the outside world, and maybe that’s when it lost interest in me.” Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop, as if she’d been damming up all her anger and sadness for the past months, and now it was bursting free. “I stopped working because I couldn’t find the creative energy to design. I even let down my friends. Then the colors slowly faded. It was so gradual; I didn’t notice it.”

  “What do you mean, the colors faded?”

  Shame burned through her, but she continued on. “I mean they’re gone. I can’t see any color at all.” She forced herself to stare at him, searching for those indescribable blue eyes, but all she saw was a light shade of gray.

  “And your fox …”

  “I told you.” Her fox had made its stance clear. John Krieger was the enemy. He had hurt them so deep and so fundamentally that it couldn’t stand him. “It doesn’t want you around. When you touched me, it tried to claw out of me to get to you.” It wanted blood—his. Even now, the vixen stared at him with a deep hostility that burned like a bright star.

  He recoiled in horror. “That can’t … you …” He let out a low, guttural sound as he raked his fingers through his dark hair. “I didn’t mean to …”

  When he took another step toward her, her fox fought with all its might, its sharp claws raking at her insides. She curled up into a tight ball. “Please … John … just go.”

  Though her face was buried in her knees, she could feel his stare linger on her. Her body tensed tighter, and it was only when she heard his heavy footsteps and the sound of the door slamming shut that her muscles relaxed.

  Tears escaped the corners of her eyes, and once they started, she couldn’t stop them. Oh God. She just wanted this feeling to stop. Didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Maybe now, he would stay away forever and just leave her alone.

  “Are you ready to leave, Dutchy darling?”

  Dutchy looked up at Angela as she stood by the bed. “Yes.” Oh, she was so ready to get out of this place. The sterile smell, the bland food, and the drab surroundings didn’t help her mood at all. Not even the dozens of flowers, cards, balloons, and stuffed animals from her friends made the room feel welcoming.

  “Let me help you,” Angela said.

  She hated feeling like an invalid, but that’s what she was, wasn’t she? Her left arm was in a cast, and she had to wear a sling. Her ribs still hurt when she did anything harder than breathe. Worse, this morning when the nurse came to change her bandages, she caught sight of the surgical wound across the right side of her torso—a long, angry scar held together with stitches. Tears had sprung to her eyes, but the nurse assured her this was normal, and she was healing properly.

  No, she wanted to say. This wasn’t normal. Not for her. She should be fully healed by now. Instead, her body remained weak. Human.

  Her fox hissed, as if reminding her of who and why they were in this state. He hadn’t even been back in days, not since she told him what happened. Good, she told her fox, despite the tightening in her chest.

  “Dutchy?”

  Her head snapped up to meet Angela’s face. She had her hand out, waiting for her to take it. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

  Angela helped her get up from the bed and then walked her over to the door where a nurse strode in with a wheelchair.

  “No,” Dutchy said adamantly. “I can walk.”

  “You’ll be feeling weak after a few steps, miss,” the nurse said. The nameplate on her chest indicated her name was Muriel. “It’s normal, seeing as you’ve been through major surgery and have been in bed for more than a week. You might fall over and hit your head, then we’ll have to admit you all over again.”

  “Dutchy,” Angela began. “Please. It’s just a short ride to the exit.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled as she sat in the wheelchair. “Let’s go.”

  “It’ll be all right, Dutchy.” Angela placed a hand on her shoulder. “Your Aunt Rosie and I will take care of you. Your friends, too, promised to help.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Angela.”

  Though she hated being coddled like this, she didn’t really have much of a choice. The doctor said it might be another month before she could get her cast off. That, plus her surgical wounds and bruised ribs, she couldn’t even change her own clothes, much less drive around, and feed and take care of herself.

  So, it was decided she would stay with Angela, who lived in a three-bedroom ranch-style house not far from Main Street. Rosie, Anna Victoria, J.D., and her other friends Kate and Amelia promised to help out when they could.

  Muriel rolled her out to the front door, the large glass doors opening automatically as they strolled out together, stopping right at the driveway.

  The brisk, autumn air was a soothing balm, and Dutchy was glad to be out of the antiseptic atmosphere of the hospital. She closed her eyes, letting the cool breeze calm her.

  “Dutchy.”

  Her head snapped toward the sound of the voice, and her eyes flew open. Krieger stood six feet away, hands held up. Her fox immediately went on the defensive, arching its back as its ears flattened and bushy tail curled.

  “I promise I won’t get any closer,” he said.

  “I thought we told you to leave?” Angela said, her hands planting on her hips. “I don’t want her upset.”

  “I couldn’t,” he said somberly. “Please. I promised I wouldn’t try to get near her again. But I couldn’t stay away.”

  Couldn’t stay away? But she had last seen him days ago.r />
  “Dutchy?” Angela’s face was marred with concern. Of course, Rosie had already told her everything. “Do you want me to call security?” She met Muriel’s gaze, who nodded in acknowledgement.

  “I …” She glanced back at Krieger. Despite her fox’s reaction, she couldn’t help the way her stomach flip-flopped. “It’s all right,” she said to the nurse, then turned to Krieger. “What do you want?”

  “I just wanted to talk to you.” He glanced warily at Angela and the nurse. “Please.”

  She didn’t owe him anything. Her fox, too, didn’t want him around. But maybe they could hash this out now and then he’d leave her alone. “Aunt Angela? Muriel? Would you mind?”

  Angela hesitated but then said, “All right. I’m going to get the car.”

  Muriel gestured to the bench next to the door. “I’ll be sitting over there,” she said before turning on her heel and walking away.

  Her aunt gave her a last concerned glance before she, too, strode off in the direction of the parking lot.

  “All right then,” she said to him when they were alone. “Talk.”

  His dark brows drew together. “I … I’ve had a lot of time to think.”

  “Yeah, you have.” She tried not to sound bitter, but damn it, he was making it so hard. He left her alone, just as she asked. But then, why did it feel like he abandoned her all over again?

  “I deserve that.” He gritted his teeth. “But you need to know, Dutchy, everything I’ve done … the last couple of months … they’ve been for you.”

  “Ha!” Her fox, too, barked sarcastically. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you.”

  “I’ve been trying to be better, Dutchy.” He fisted his hands at his sides. “I’ve been working on it. Trying … trying to be better. For you.”

  A seething anger bubbled in her. “But why did you push me away in the first place?” God, that day had been months ago, yet it was still so crystal clear in her mind. You need to go back, he had said. Go.