Chapter 5
LEVI
Mixing the blue putty with a tongue depressor, I look across the sterile room toward the white cardboard box—a box that is way too light on evidence.
Finding out who did this is not going to be easy.
The refrigeration unit hums steadily in the background, and condensation gathers along the metal walls of the cold storage room. The stench of charred flesh invades my senses, despite the surgical mask covering my nose and mouth, as I transfer the putty to the tray for dental impressions.
Most veterinarians don’t spend their afternoons taking dental impressions from murder victims.
Then again, most veterinarians don’t live in Evergreen Falls.
Normally, Dr. Marcus Adler would be the one to do this, but his office down in Jackson doesn’t have the cold storage space for this body. That doesn’t happen often, but when it does, my clinic, Northfork Veterinary, is used.
I’m the first on scene anyway, so it makes sense.
I told Doc that I’d take care of the evidence gathering so he’d have one less thing to do when he got here. I didn’t disclose that my generosity is also because I don’t need him sticking around longer than necessary and putting his nose where it doesn’t belong.
I can’t have him poking around my cremator.
After taking the dental impressions to ID the body, I move through the motions. This isn’t the first dead body that I’ve had to work on. I know the routine.
I’m more than happy to help out when and where I can. Northfork Veterinary Clinic isn’t too much to look at from the outside, but it’s mine. Every exam room, kennel, and cabinet is arranged where and how I want them.
There’s a reception when people walk in.
I haven’t had an actual receptionist in years, but I keep the desk out there anyway.
Past that is a hallway that leads to two exam rooms, my office, a break room, and a cold storage room.
At the end of the hallway, a door leads to a room filled with rows of kennels that stretch through the back half of the clinic.
Corpses don’t scare me. They haven’t since I was fourteen years old.
The bell above the front door of the clinic rings.
“Hello? Anyone here? I need help!”
My head turns toward the urgent voice coming from the reception area. Striding in that direction, I rip off my mask and disposable gown and toss them in the trash.
Silently, I curse myself for giving my assistant, Abbott, the day off.
The familiar sounds of the clinic greet me as I step into the hallway. A dog barks somewhere in the kennels as a cat yowls its displeasure from another exam room. The steady hum of the HVAC system rattles through the ceiling vents.
The reception area looks normal. Sunlight filters through the front windows, illuminating floating dust above the tiled floors. A row of mismatched chairs lines one wall beneath framed photographs of local pets and livestock.
Only one thing is out of place.
A woman momentarily strikes me speechless—a foreign feeling. Regardless of how hard I try, I’m mute.
She looks exhausted. Windburn colors her cheeks, and her hair is tangled from the Wyoming winter.
But she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen all day.
Her smooth caramel skin glows in the dismal lighting. Her shoulder-length waves are slightly disheveled, but I want to run my fingers through them. The rouge in her cheeks has me wanting to make her blush for a whole different reason.
“Oh, thank God, Levi,” she breathes out and rushes toward me. “Can you help him?”
Snapping out of my stupor, I finally notice that this isn’t some random woman.
It’s Blake Jennings.
She’s carrying something in her arms, wrapped in fabric. A paw sticks out from the bundle.
Peering down, I find the broad head and blocky jaw of a blue pit bull.
His steel-gray coat is dulled beneath dirt and dried blood, interrupted only by a white blaze stretching across his chest. One ear folds forward while the other struggles to stay upright, giving him an almost lopsided look that would be endearing under different circumstances.
Sad amber eyes meet mine, glazed with pain but still alert enough to follow every movement.
The emergency switch in my brain flips on.
“This way,” I direct as I spin on my heel and head for the exam room. Blake follows me inside, I point to the table, and quickly wash my hands at the sink. “Set him there.”
Slipping on a pair of gloves, I turn back to them. She’s kneeling on the tiled floor next to the dog, whispering as she pets his face.
Moving to the other side, I remove the cloth from the dog and see what I didn’t before.
Blood.
As I assess his injuries and gather supplies, I ask, “What happened?”
Blake watches me as I get to work. “I’m not sure. I found him like this on the side of the highway.”
I nod. “He was probably hit by a car and left for dead. Happens often enough.”
He’s losing too much blood.
“I need you to apply pressure to his front leg to stop the bleeding,” I instruct. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her jump into motion.
As I reach for his injured leg, he doesn’t growl or snap. He only lets out a quiet whine before looking toward Blake, as if asking her whether he should trust me.
I get lost in the process of patching the canine back together.
The more I examine him, the more convinced I become that he’s almost entirely pit bull. Broad chest. Thick neck. Powerful shoulders. If he were healthy, he’d probably tip the scales somewhere around sixty pounds of solid muscle.
I’m not sure how much time passes when I finally step back from the table. There isn’t much more I can do at the moment. Exhausted, I sigh. The bleeding has stopped, he’s sedated, and he’s hooked up to an IV.
“Is he going to be okay?” she whispers.
Nodding my head, I look over him again. “The next few days will be telling, but he’s a fighter.”
“So…Do Walk and Santi know—” I begin as I turn to her, but the words get trapped in my throat. I can’t help but allow my mouth to hang open as I stare at her. Her jeans are molded perfectly to her hips, but it’s the lack of clothing on top that has me stuttering.
Her breasts look ready to spill out of the thin, lacy fabric covering them. I watch as her nipples harden under my gaze. My eyes wander down her frame, and I feel my cock harden.
I want to devour this woman. I want to run my tongue over her silky bronze skin. Even just once, so I can live with the memory of her taste.
“Oh my God!” she shouts, snapping out of the spell she unknowingly put me under. Her arms cross, covering her chest, and her cheeks pinken. “Don’t look!”
“I didn’t see anything.”
A lie so bold that I’m sure if I didn’t already have a one-way ticket to hell, it would buy me one. There’s no way I’ll ever forget that image. I never want to.
Hiding my smile, I turn and give her my back. “Where did your shirt go?”
“I used it to stop the bleeding, like you asked me to.”
“I didn’t ask you to use your clothes,” I respond with a little too much sarcasm, but I’m having too much fun rubbing salt into her wounded pride.
“What else was I supposed to use?” she asks indignantly.
“There are towels in the cabinet behind you.” I point my finger over my shoulder.
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“I figured you’d look around,” I retort.
She raises her voice. “I didn’t think there was time.”
Deciding to fix the situation, I turn, sliding my scrub top off over my head.
She squeaks. “What are you doing?”
Pointing to the table, I answer, “Your coat and shirt are ruined.”
Blake’s arms are still wrapped around her chest. “So your idea is to take off your clothes too? Even the playing field?”
I give her a lop-sided smile and hold out my shirt. “For you to wear.”
She blinks. “Oh.” Grabbing my shirt, she steps closer. “Thank you.”
I take another step. The shirt I handed over is the only thing preventing me from feeling her skin against mine.
I shouldn’t want her. Not Blake Jennings. Not Landon’s daughter.
She left Evergreen Falls a girl and returned a woman.
The longer I stare into her eyes, the faster my will dissolves.
She closes the gap between us, her chest pressing against mine as her breathing increases. Her eyes leave mine for a brief moment, dropping to my lips.
Fuck.
She wants this too.
“Don’t look at me like that, Blake,” I warn her.
“Why not?” Her voice is barely a whisper. She places her hand just over my heart.
Leaning down, my lips brush against hers as I say, “Because it makes me want to—”
A voice clears from the doorway. “Am I interrupting something?” Santiago stands at the door to the exam room with a huge smile on his face. All that’s missing is the popcorn in his hands.
Blake jumps back. “Nope!” She slips the shirt on, covering herself up. “Thank you again, Levi. I’ll check on the dog later.” She moves to leave, but I stop her, grabbing her arm.
“Let me give you a jacket so you don’t freeze out there,” I insist.
“No need,” she brushes me off. “The shirt was more than enough. I have another coat in my motel room anyway.”
“Then at least let me give you my number.” I run over to the cabinets and retrieve a business card, placing it in her hand. “Call me. I’d love to catch up.”
“Will do,” she says with a small smile. “It was nice seeing you, Levi. You too, Santi,” Blake adds as she slips past Santiago and out of the clinic.
“Very smooth,” Santiago jests as I move to stand next to him. We both stare at the clinic door, as if hoping Blake will come back.
I nudge him with my elbow. “Did you know she was back in town?”
“I saw her yesterday at Main Street Diner,” Santiago answers simply.
“Shit,” I return, shaking my head. “Does Walk know?”
Santiago shrugs a shoulder. “I’m not sure.”
“We should tell him.” I rub my hand over my face, already exhausted from the conversation to come.
Santiago grabs my shoulder, turning me to face him. “We will, but first…”