Wolver's Rescue Page 7

  He laughed when Tommie kept nodding her head, but never stopped eating. She couldn’t stop.

  She tried to slow down, knew she was being impolite, but her stomach was on fire with the need to eat. When the first container was empty, she reached for the second, ignoring the fact that Bull had barely started on his own meal, although she did notice his sunny side up eggs looked delicious, too. She plowed through most of the pile of fries, enjoying every bite, but her body craved meat. She was halfway through the order of fried chicken, when Bull caught the hand holding a wing.

  “Slow down. There’s no sense packing it in if it’s going to come back up.”

  He had no idea how close he came to having his restraining hand bitten. If her mouth hadn’t been so full, she might have growled aloud.

  He pulled his hand away and held out a carton of milk. “More protein,” he told her, “You need it. Those cuts and bruises don’t look like they’re healing as fast as they should. You had that bruise on your cheek when I found you. It should be gone by now. Those cuts on your feet should be healing up, too.”

  The container of milk was halfway to her mouth. She stopped and stared. “How did you know?”

  It was another piece of her weirdness. She healed twice as fast as other people. She’d broken her arm once, when she was six. Coincidently, another little girl in her class had broken her arm in exactly the same way. Tommie’s cast was gone in three weeks, the other child’s in six. A black eye turned yellow overnight and disappeared completely in two days.

  “Because all wolvers heal fast?”

  His questioning tone made it sound like she should know that piece of information, but she had no idea what a wolver was.

  “Me. You. Us. Me. You. Us. We have name. Mate!”

  The thing inside her started to jump and churn. It spun. It leapt. Tommie was pretty sure it did somersaults. At least she hoped it was her secret friend, because if it wasn’t, her stomach was about to erupt.

  Bull must have voted for the stomach, because he leaned over, grabbed the waste basket and held it under her nose. “Told you, too much, too fast.”

  “Me. You. Us. Me. You. Us. We have name. Mate!” The damn thing wouldn’t leave it alone.

  “Stop it.” Tommie’s whisper hissed out between her teeth. One hand went to her stomach. The other went to her head. “Shut up.”

  Bull’s head cocked to the side. “Was that for me?”

  Damn it! She’d spoken aloud. She knew better than to do that in front of people. She gave him her standard excuse.

  “Oops, sorry, bad habit. Comes from living alone.” Thrown off course, she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to gather her thoughts. What was the word he used?

  “Wolver!”

  “Your wolf giving you a hard time?” He was nodding as if he understood. “Never let your wolf rule your human is easier said than done, yeah? Mine used to drive me nuts. Always arguing.”

  “Excuse me? Did you say wolf? You argue with your wolf?” She felt like a fool even saying the words.

  “Sure, doesn’t everybody?” The big guy shrugged and loaded the last forkful of meatloaf into his mouth.

  “Well no, Bull, as a matter of fact, everybody doesn’t,” she said with exaggerated patience and just a smidgen of snark.

  “Shit, don’t tell me you’re one of those touchy-feely nudist types.”

  Tommie thought his eyes looked a little hopeful as he wiped up the last bit of gravy and sucked it off his finger. Watching that finger slide slowly in and out, she felt her lower abdomen clench and her rear end rise off the bed as she leaned toward him. Unable to take her eyes from that finger, she licked her lips and asked weakly, “Touchy-feely nudist type?”

  He set the container aside. “Yeah, you know.” Eyes on the ceiling, hands pressed together as if in prayer, he quoted, “Seek spiritual harmony with your wolf. Find peace through the acceptance of your animal’s primal nature. Embrace the beast.” He unfolded his hands and shrugged. “What they mean is, let your wolf run wild at every full moon and nail every piece of tail within a hundred mile radius. You wouldn’t happen to be one of those, would you?” He wagged his eyebrows and smirked with one side of his mouth. “You got a wild wolf hiding in there?”

  “Yes!”

  “No.” The mesmerizing moment was broken. Tommie moved the container off her lap and shifted her body a little closer to the edge of the bed. It sounded like this guy was talking about a werewolf cult and he was serious. She could tell by the look on his face. And if he was serious, he was as crazy as she was.

  “So, you howl at the full moon, do you?” she asked cautiously.

  “Sure, every chance I get. Don’t you? At least at the Hunter’s Moon, or do you have an Alpha who sends you over more often?”

  Tommie swallowed hard. “Over?”

  “Yeah. Over the moon.” He was looking at her strangely. “You know, shift to wolf.”

  Holy crap. He wasn’t as crazy as she was. He was crazier.

  Was he another clinic patient who’d somehow gotten hold of her records? Was that why he rescued her? Had he discovered what he thought was a kindred whacko spirit?

  He’d seemed so normal, but then again, so did she for the most part, except for certain times each month when the voice seemed to get worse. Mental illness covered a lot of territory and most of its sufferers functioned quite well out there in the real world. The big guy definitely needed to be reminded of that.

  “So, what did you think was going to happen here? And what did you think I would say?” She clapped her hands together in mock applause. “Yipee! Thanks for the rescue. Now our hallucinations can chat with each other and if it all works out, maybe we can all play canasta and then hop in the sack for a little foursome!” She pointed her finger at his nose and shook it. “And don’t lie to me. I’m not as crazy as I look.”

  “Could have fooled me.” He caught the wagging finger. “I was just making conversation. You’re the one going off the deep end. And just to set the record straight here, I don’t even know what canasta is and I’ve never liked the idea of ménage. Call it a character flaw, but I don’t share well with others.” He let her finger go as quickly as he’d grabbed it.

  The television that had been quietly playing in the background all night, switched to the early morning news. The anchor read the day’s headlines, reiterating the piece about the shooting at Sixth and Main, but said nothing about the killings at the Gantnor Clinic. Nor did he mention a patient’s escape. Murder wasn’t an everyday occurrence in this town. Three in one night should have been big news and they always had something to say when a patient went walkabout. The clientele of the Gantnor Clinic made a lot of people nervous. It didn’t make sense. Then again, maybe it did.

  Tommie looked at Bull with new eyes. “You didn’t kill anyone last night, did you?” she accused, her anger boiling up at the torture she’d suffered and this new indignity. “You bastard. You’re a part of this whole thing, aren’t you? You work for him, don’t you?” She waved her hand about the room. “This is all part of the program, isn’t it? What happened? Plan A didn’t work, so they brought in the hot guy for Plan B? Make the poor pitiful creature confront her demons by making her feel she’s not alone?”

  “What program? Who am I supposed to be working for?”

  Oh, he was good, really, really good. That look of confusion was Oscar worthy.

  “Don’t you even try that innocent look, mister. I’m wise to you. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” She spit his words back at him. “I might have stupidly fallen for the Plan A of this half-assed psychological experiment, but I’m sure as hell not signing on for Plan B.” Tommie flung out her hand and pointed to the door. “You can go back to that quack bastard who hired you and tell him that I’m done, D-O-N-E, done. And while you’re at it, you can tell him that I’ve finally made contact with my inner beast and if he ever comes near me again, that beast will tear him to pieces. Now get out.”

&n
bsp; Bull crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her. “In case you haven’t noticed, spitfire, this is my room, paid for with my money. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Then I’ll leave.” she snapped. She took a step toward the door.

  Bull shrugged. “Okay, but leave the shirt. I can’t afford to feed and house you and then watch you walk away with my last clean shirt.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stood like a tower in front of the door.

  “Feed? House?” Her whole head rolled with her eyes. “It was for a day. And I didn’t touch the roast beef,” she added indignantly. She looked back over her shoulder. “Fine. Where are my clothes?”

  “You mean the dead guy’s clothes? Hopefully on their way to wherever the city garbage truck takes them. I dumped them in a bin on my way to buy your food. Evidence, you know? Not wise to keep it around.”

  Hands on hips, she glared at him. “Then what exactly do you expect me to wear?”

  Another shrug. “That’s your look out, honey. You’re calling the shots.” He readjusted his stance and smiled. “Or, we can strike a bargain. You sit back down, listen to what I have to say, answer a few questions, and I’ll let you keep the shirt.”

  Tommie pretended to think about it, but she really had no choice. Even if he’d let her keep the tee, she would still be barefoot and her house was still a long walk. The sun would be rising soon and on a cool autumn morning, a barefoot, scantily clad woman was bound to be noticed. The only thing left was to make the best of a bad situation.

  “I listen, answer, keep the shirt, and you drive me home. And...” She looked back at the boxes on the bed. “I get the roast beef.”

  “Fair enough, but if you touch the turkey and Swiss that’s in there with it, that skinny ass of yours is mine.”

  The thing inside of her began to chortle at the threat. “Mine,” it whispered as if it liked the idea of being his and completely ignored the context in which the word was used.

  Tommie wondered if the therapist she’d seen years ago was right.

  “What you call that ‘thing’ is really a manifestation of your suppressed emotions and needs,” that doctor had said. “Freud called it the id. Until you recognize it for what it is and deal with it, Tommie, you’ll never be content. It’s a matter of finding a balance.”

  After all this time, was she finding a balance? Because at the moment, she and the thing inside felt exactly the same way about that word. Mine.

  Nevertheless, Tommie sat primly on the corner of the bed, making it clear this was no picnic.

  Chapter 8

  “Who is it you think I work for?” Bull asked as he wrapped half her sandwich in a paper napkin.

  The girl’s eyes tracked the sandwich. In another minute, she’d begin to salivate. She’d already eaten the equivalent of three full meals. She was no longer hungry. She couldn’t be, but her wolf didn’t understand that. When a starving wolf found the opportunity to eat, instinct declared it might not get another chance and so it gorged. A wolf’s body was built to take it. A human’s wasn’t.

  It was proof that her wolf was more in control than it should be and that wasn’t good. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it to his advantage. He held the sandwich up.

  “Questions, answers, sandwich,” he reminded.

  Her whole body huffed along with her mouth. “Dr. Gantnor, but you already know that, so why ask?”

  Bull ignored the question. “What was Plan A?”

  When she didn’t answer, he waved the sandwich in front of her nose. Her face became hard. “You should have paid more attention to my file,” she sneered. “I can’t be coerced with food. I won’t be coerced,” she corrected. “I’d rather starve.”

  She’d chosen to starve? Maybe her wolf wasn’t as much in control as he thought. Bull handed her the sandwich. She didn’t stuff it in her mouth, but bit it daintily and chewed.

  “Is that why you’re in the shape you’re in?”

  She nodded, took another small bite and handed what was left back to him. “I’m not hungry. I don’t know what made me think I was.”

  “We’ll save it for later.” Bull set it aside. “Plan A, the one you agreed to?”

  Pain filled the eyes that only a moment before looked stonily cold. She dropped her gaze to the floor and her voice to barely above a whisper. “I didn’t agree to it and it’s in the file. Why are you doing this to me?”

  For a moment, Bull forgot why. Primal Law and instinct screamed at him to care for and protect this female. He shook the feeling off. There was something going on here that he needed to understand and he was sure it was connected to Thomas Bane.

  This wasn’t the first time what he wanted to do conflicted with what he had to do. It was, however, the first time his wolf was unhappy with it.

  He pulled the chair over and sat across from her, knees to knees and spoke softly with only an edge of demand in his voice. “I need to hear your version and I need to hear it from the beginning. It’s important to an investigation I’m conducting.”

  She looked up at him. “Are you investigating Dr. Gantnor? The clinic? Is that why you’re looking for Thomas Bane?”

  “Yes.” He hadn’t been, but he was now, so it wasn’t really a lie. And why complicate the issue? Keep things simple.

  Simple flew out the window when the woman opened her mouth.

  “Then you can stop looking. You’ve found him.” she said with a ghost of a smile. “I’m Thomas Bane.”

  “You can’t be,” he said without thinking. He was looking for a male and she definitely wasn’t one. He’d seen that for himself. He’d scented her, touched her.

  Her smile blossomed. “Looks can be deceiving and you have to admit,” she looked down at her small breasts, “modern medicine can work miracles.”

  His wolf rolled over and whined. Bull couldn’t understand it. The animal had been acting strangely since he met the girl, and now reacted as if its world had come to an end.

  “No pups,” it wailed.

  “If you could see the look on your face.” Thomas, who was definitely a female, laughed and pumped a delicate fist in the air. “Finally. My turn to say gotcha.”

  “You’re not Thomas Bane.” He tried to disguise the relief in his voice. He failed.

  “Oh no, I’m Thomas all right. I was supposed to be Thomasina, but somebody screwed up on the birth certificate. Nobody noticed until I started school. Hey! Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”

  If he only looked pale, he must look okay for a guy whose blood was running cold and whose heart had stopped.

  She was Thomas Bane. His mission was to eliminate Thomas Bane by removing Bane’s humanity or ending Bane’s life. Either choice would be a death sentence for the delicate young woman sitting on the edge of the bed. He’d never condemned a woman before and he wasn’t sure he could do it now.

  For the first time in the almost twenty years he’d been doing this job, Bull didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He needed the reassurance and direction only his Alpha could supply.

  “I just remembered I have to make a phone call,” he said tersely.

  He opened the drapes to the bright light of day and pointed back at her. “Don’t move. I’ll be watching.”

  His thumb was on speed dial before the door was closed. “Come on, Begley, answer the god damned phone.”

  The damned woman confused him. The skinny little bitch had already proven herself to be a pain in the ass. Even his wolf was acting strangely, but there was something about her that pushed every protective button in his wolver genetic code. His wolf felt the same confusion his human did.

  “Hey, y’all. Since things are a might slow around here, I’ve a notion to do a little fishin’ and huntin’. Don’t leave no message, ‘cause I ain’t listenin’. Y’all are big boys and don’t need me holdin’ your hands every minute of the day.” Eugene Begley’s disembodied voice chuckled over the phone. “Just stay out of trouble ‘till I get back.”

 
Bull had the urge to hurl the damn phone across the parking lot. Stay out of trouble? Bull had a feeling he was already in it up to his neck. He stared at the woman through the dirty window. She’d already disobeyed him and moved to search through the bag he’d left on the desk. It was filled with items he’d bought at the truck stop while he waited for the food. She looked like a pup emptying a Christmas stocking and he found himself smiling at the delighted grin on her face.

  “Is this all for me?” she asked when he opened the door and when he nodded, her grin widened. “I take back every mean thing I thought about you.” She tore the hairbrush from the plastic packaging and began working it through the knots in her hair.

  Grooming was a good sign she wasn’t feral yet, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t damn close. Her wolf was too near the surface and exhibiting more and more control. She was already exhibiting other symptoms. She’d forgotten basic wolver rituals and sayings. She growled while she ate; low sounds, deep in her throat. She bared her teeth when he tried to stop her from eating. Worse, he didn’t think she was aware of the behavior which was another sure sign her human control was slipping. It wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” she told him as she closed her eyes in bliss and ran the brush through the first untangled lock.

  “Suppose you tell me,” he said as he took her place on the corner of the bed. “How long were you in there?”

  The hand wielding the brush stopped mid-stroke. “I don’t know. What’s the date?”

  Not recognizing the passage of time was another wolf trait. A wolver’s human half kept track of it. Bull gave her the date and watched her face as she calculated the days.

  “Almost three months.” She sounded surprised. “I thought it was longer.”

  Her answer made sense. Wolves thought in terms of long time or short, not in days, weeks, or months.

  “How much does he know?”

  “Once upon a time, I thought he knew everything. That’s why I trusted him,” she said quietly. She began to brush her hair again, each stroke more angry and forceful than the last until she was yanking it through the snarls, seemingly unaware of the pain it must be causing. “Turns out he’s a sociopathic sadist who ought to be locked up in his own clinic.”