Part 4 (1/2)

I wasn't enough. I'd tried not to let him know how much that hurt. I got up every morning hoping for his letter. When it came at last it was agony.

So why had I kissed him tonight like the foolish girl I'd once been-crazy in love with a boy who would only hurt me?

My father's words. He couldn't help it. He loved me.

He'd loved Owen too. But us together ... Not so much.

In the end he'd been right. Owen had left me. I'd been so devastated my first year of college was still a blur. I'd managed not to flunk out, and at the University of Wisconsin that wasn't easy. The school was hard and my major, zoology, not for sissies.

Considering our history and my heartbreak, why had I kissed him? Because he'd been sitting on the couch where we'd first touched? Because when he came near me all I could do was remember every single other time that he had?

Or had it been because the sight on that table had scared the s.h.i.+t out of me, and I'd needed to forget for an instant in the arms of the only man who'd ever made me feel strong, capable, and adult?

h.e.l.l, be honest, Owen was the only man who'd ever made me feel anything. The first brush of his mouth and I'd been lost.

I was twelve, and he was taking my hand, holding it tight during The Blair Witch Project. The movie had struck a little close to home. I had no idea why we'd watched it.

I was thirteen, and he was kissing me in that very room, tasting my tongue, his palm hot at my waist, his thumb almost brus.h.i.+ng my breast.

We were fifteen, and they'd just taken away his mother for what would be the last time. Those d.a.m.n voices had told her to kill him. Was it any wonder I'd never mentioned hearing voices of my own?

The expression on his face-confused, crushed, helpless. I'd held him in my arms; we'd both fallen asleep on the couch. My parents had found us. I'd begged them to give him a home, and they had. Soon after, I'd tried to give him me. To his credit, he'd refused.

For a few years more.

Memories tumbled through my mind as I ran up the steps, down the hall, through a room as trashed as those below. At least the windows weren't busted, but the door leading onto the porch was warped, and I had to put my shoulder into it to get the thing open enough to slip outside. I was just glad I didn't have to ask Owen for help. I needed some distance, and I needed it now. d.a.m.n him for bringing everything back. I hadn't thought of Owen McAllister in ...

Days.

I moved to the edge of the porch. There wasn't even a railing to keep stupid people from tumbling off. Obviously not up to code-if Owen tried to sell the place, there was going to be a lot he'd have to add, subtract, and update first.

I stood there breathing for a minute-lovely fresh air that didn't smell of blood and fire, flesh and mold. But mostly it didn't smell of sun and gra.s.s, hay and midnight.

Of him.

The wolf called to the moon that swelled heavy and ripe and cool straight above, but she was so far off maybe it wasn't even the same wolf. And about that wolf ...

Owen had seen her. His dog had rolled around with her. Which made the animal a lot less imaginary. I had to wonder why she'd shown herself to someone after all these years and why that someone had been Owen.

I glanced at my phone; I had a signal. Yay! I didn't want to go to my parents'. I didn't want to explain why I was here, what I had seen.

And who I had seen it with.

I located the police station's direct number in my contact list. Less than a minute later, the dispatcher put me through to Chief Deb.

”You know those animals you were looking for?” I asked. ”I found them.”

Chapter 4.

The living room window gave Owen a perfect view of the ridge. If Becca couldn't get a signal upstairs, she'd appear on top of it very soon. She'd no doubt s.h.i.+mmy down the drainpipe before she'd come back through here.

While Owen didn't like the idea of her being alone out there, she wouldn't be for long. The bright moon would catch the reflective stripe on her track pants. He'd be able to follow her progress up, up, up through the breaks in the trees until she popped out on top like a piece of toast.

Then Owen would give Reggie the command, voraus, or run out. He'd be hard-pressed not to tell him to bringen, or fetch. But Reggie didn't bringen nice people back any less chewed on than he brought back the not-so-nice.

”If necessary I expect you to vault through that window.” Owen pointed; Reggie followed the line of his finger. ”And kick the a.s.s of whatever is anywhere near her.”

Reggie gave a low woof. Owen took that to mean ”Happy to.”

a.s.s kicking was Reggie's specialty. Once, it had been Owen's. He very much feared it might never be again, and he wasn't certain what else he could do.

In the Marines he had excelled.

Running fast? Check.

Hitting hard? Check.

No home, no family, no life? Check and double-check.

He'd been a shoo-in for K-9 Corps. Add to that his love of animals, which he'd had even before he'd met Becca, and he had been accepted into the canine program without a hitch.

There was something about dogs that healed or at least helped. Your mother was a druggie, a nut, often a thief? You were an average student on a good day? No place to go? No future to dream of? A dog didn't care. They didn't even know.

Becca had known, and she hadn't cared either. Owen had loved her so much he couldn't think straight. Luckily her father had loved her enough to think straight for both of them.

What would the man say if he knew Owen was back? Did it matter? He wasn't going to stay.

Owen rubbed his hand over his mouth, which still tingled from hers. Would he be able to look Dale Carstairs in the face any more now than he'd been able to look at him then? Certainly this time he'd only kissed her, then he'd- Owen stood and paced, ignoring the pain. He was no longer a kid with nothing; he was a man with ...

”Not much more.”

He threw a glance toward the ridge. No sign of Becca. He whirled, planning to pace some more, and nearly tripped over Reggie. He'd decided to pace too. Owen gave the dog a pat. ”I have you, don't I, buddy?”

Reggie panted and drooled.

However, if Reggie went back to active duty and Owen did not, he wouldn't have the dog either. The idea of turning the animal over to another handler after all they'd been through together made Owen sick.

The more he thought about things, the worse things got, and that was without even considering ...

He lifted his gaze to the table full of ick. There was something about it from this angle that made him get the lantern and move closer, lifting the light, then setting it on the mantel and stepping back where he'd been.

”d.a.m.n,” he muttered, just as Becca pounded down the hall and out the front door.

I wanted to meet Chief Deb in the yard, give her a heads-up before taking her inside, and from the volume of the siren and the peek-a-boo flash of headlights through the trees, she was breaking land speed records to get here.