Chapter 40
KANE
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I make the call from the car.
“Hey, buddy, good to hear your voice,” says Ross, sounding surprised and pleased on the other end of the line. “Mel and I have missed you.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
“I should warn you; Mel’s got this practical joke she’s dying to try on you.”
“Can’t wait,” I say drily as I check the rearview mirror. The Nissan is nowhere in sight.
“Neither can she. So, when are you planning to visit?”
I clear my throat. “Actually, I’m about fifteen minutes away.”
After a brief pause, Ross asks, “You pulling some kind of stunt on us?”
“I need to lay low for a while.”
“You in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“Bad?”
“Afraid so.”
“Buddy, I don’t want this to touch Mel.”
Guilt burns its way down my throat. “I have nowhere else to go.”
Ross is silent. My hands tense on the wheel while I wait for the line to go dead. But when he finally speaks, his voice is brisk. “We’ll prepare a room for you.”
“Better make it two,” I inform him apologetically. “I have two guests with me. I’ll bunk on the couch.”
He doesn’t ask any follow-up questions. He simply grunts in acknowledgment and confirms he’ll see us soon.
“Is he going to give us grief about this?” Nolene asks from the back seat.
“He’s cool. Amy still out?”
“Comatose.”
I frown. “Just keep an eye on her, will you?”
She huffs out a martyred sigh. “Fine.”
We lapse into silence. I’m still grappling with the notion that Andries might be behind the Nissan staking out the safe house. I need to call him, but not with Nolene listening in.
The sign for Hope Animal Rescue appears and I make the turn. The dirt road winding through the grounds of the sanctuary stretches like a snake soaking up the last of the sallow light. Navigating around the potholes, I follow the road as it yields to a gravel driveway in front of a stone farmhouse.
A pack of dogs, all different breeds and sizes, are playing in the sprawling front garden.
I search for one in particular, but he’s not here.
Indifferently watching the dogs is a brown goat nibbling on.
.. I squint through the windshield. What the heck?
Judging by the white lace trim, it looks like one of Merele’s bras. I grin.
Ross appears on the wide porch hugging the house. He looks the same. Blond hair curling over his collar, eyes as blue as the tanzanite Merele wears on her finger. His tall, lean frame is in shorts and a T-shirt. An overweight Labrador pants at his feet.
Merele is nowhere in sight.
I park the car in the shade of a huge oak tree and twist around to face Nolene. “Ross doesn’t know you’re here. I need to talk to him first.”
She rolls her eyes. “The pacifist still has a problem with me?”
“Stay here until I call you.”
The moment I step out the car, the smell of country soaks into my pores.
I take a deep breath. An old wagon wheel propped against the splintered bark of a tree catches my attention.
A new touch. Merele no doubt discovered this treasure in one of the tucked away junk stores she loves to scrounge around in. Man, I love this place.
“Nothing like the smell of dung and dirt to tempt you into giving up city life,” Ross says, making his way over to me.
“Definitely better than smog and grill grease.”
Ross pulls me into a bear hug. After a couple of seconds, he lets go and says in a gruff voice, “Four months of silence is a long time.”
“I know.”
“We left you messages.”
“I got them.”
“You ever think to respond?”
“I have no excuse,” I acknowledge. “I should have called.”
“You had Mel so worried she started baking.” A shudder rips through him.
I wince. “Any casualties?”
“Carrot-top. He swiped a cookie off the patio table and cracked a tooth.”
Of all the donkeys, the playful and nosy Carrot-top is my favorite. Ross rescued him after receiving a call from a sympathetic farmer who intervened when he spotted a group of bored children whipping the donkey with barbed wire to make him run.
“Still too chicken to tell Mel the truth about her baking?”
“Yep,” Ross admits freely. “But you’re welcome to try.”
“No, thanks.” I don’t want to be the one to hurt her. “Where is Mel?”
“She popped to the store to stock up on supplies.”
I nod, my gaze once again drawn to the dogs.
Ross smiles. “Saba’s around here somewhere.”
I let out a long whistle. A heartbeat later, a giant German Shepherd comes racing from behind the house toward us.
“Guess Saba’s missed you,” Ross observes wryly as a blur of black and brown skids to a dust-raising stop in front of me.
Saba wants to jump—you can see his entire body quivering with the urge—but training asserts itself and instead he presses himself in ecstatic abandon against my legs, whining his welcome.
I crouch down and put my arms around the dog’s thick neck, allowing Saba to wash my neck and jawline with his tongue.
“Hey, boy, I missed you too,” I whisper roughly into that beautiful coat of fur. I rest my head there a moment longer, wanting to delay what I know is coming, but I feel the probing weight of Ross’s stare, so I straighten and face my friend.
Now that the niceties are over, Ross runs a critical eye over me, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.
I hold up a weary hand. “No need to tell me I look a little worse for wear.”
His eyes flick to the bandage on my head. “You need stitches?”
“Later.”
“Looks like we’ll be talking about a lot of things later. What about your guests?”
I head toward the RAV and Ross falls into step beside me. “They’re in the car. Nolene’s one of them.”
His eyes tighten at the corners. “You know how I feel about her.”
“I know. She won’t be staying long.”
“Make sure she keeps her views to herself.”
“We’re all on the same side here, Ross.”
“It’s not always a matter of two sides,” he retorts. “There are a lot of different lines drawn here.”
I have no opportunity to reply because the RAV’s back door opens and Nolene steps out, stretching her arms above her head. “Ross.”
He inclines his head and his tone is cool. “Nolene.”
I hold back a sigh. These two are old enough to sort out their differences themselves.
I do a quick scan of the area. No workers in sight.
They’re probably out back with the animals.
Good. I brush past Nolene and lean into the car.
Amy lies white and still on the back seat, eyelids twitching, no doubt trapped in a rollercoaster loop of whatever nightmare triggers this terror of the dark.
Clamping down on a surge of emotion I don’t care to identify, I scoop Amy up and back carefully out of the RAV.
Ross’s eyes widen at the sight of Amy’s unconscious form. “Okay, what’s going on here?”
“Ross—”
“Who is she?” His gaze turns on me, a hint of an accusation in it. “What’s the matter with her?”
“Relax,” Nolene says, “she’s not dead.”
Ross ignores her, focusing on me. “What have you done to her?”
A flush of shame creeps up my neck, but I maintain his stare. “I know this doesn’t look good and I know I’ve got a lot of explaining to do, but right now I need you to hold off on the questions. Please.”
His expression is strained. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”
“I’m not asking you to like it. I’m asking you to trust me.”
The next few seconds pass tensely as we wait for Ross’s decision. At last, his voice grim, he says, “Take her inside. We’ll talk after you’ve got her settled. I need to see to the animals.”
And no doubt blow off some steam, I think as I watch him stride away.
Nolene grabs the bags from the car and follows me inside, Saba shadowing us. It requires some skillful sidestepping to navigate past the carpet of dogs stretched out on the cool gray slate of the entrance hall. Heads lift curiously and tails thump lazily as we pass.
There are two guest bedrooms. I put Amy in the room with a lock on the door and security bars on the windows.
“Saba, stay,” I instruct the German Shepherd hovering in the doorway. Immediately, he sits, his large head tilted quizzically to one side.
“You take the other room,” I say to Nolene.
“You can bunk with me,” she offers. “Save you the discomfort of sleeping on the couch.”
I hold her gaze. “I’ll take the couch.”
She stiffens, as though absorbing a blow. “If that’s the way you want it.” She disappears into her room.
I go to check on Amy. I can’t stop myself from staring at her, her fragile beauty like a fish hook, reeling me in to a feeling that comes too close to protectiveness.
As my eyes sweep over her in a carefully assessing study, touching her all the places my hands can’t, I feel, despite an attack of conscience, the strong pull of attraction.
Unbelievable. I’ve just added an incredibly dangerous complication to this whole scenario.
“Amy,” I call softly. Tendrils of blonde hair stick to her cheek. I brush them away.
She doesn’t respond. Sighing, I give her another dose of the sedative. I don’t want her waking up before I have a chance to talk to Ross and Mel.
Pulling a light quilt over her, I leave the room, locking the door behind me. I’m careful to leave a side light on. Then I go to find Ross.