Читать книгу Bayou Wolf - Debbie Herbert - Страница 9
ОглавлениеTallulah scrambled out of her vehicle, clutching her coffee cup, and joined her brother and over a dozen of their friends—mostly fellow shadow hunters—where they gathered by the timber site.
Dawn had barely broken, but the logging crew would be arriving soon. She approached her twin. “What did you find out about this property?” she asked with no preamble.
“It belongs to Hank and Sashy Potts. Rumor is that they’re hoping to sell it to developers interested in building a strip mall and a storage warehouse on the outskirts of the bayou. They’re making it more attractive to them by clearing the land. And in the process, the couple are making a huge profit selling the timber.”
“This is Hank’s doing,” she said darkly. “Always was one to sell out for a quick buck.”
“You’re right about that. Sashy’s a decent sort of person, though.” Tombi raked a hand through his long black hair. “We might make more headway putting pressure on them than harassing the timber crew. Whether we like it or not, they’re just doing their job.”
She sipped her coffee and gazed at the gashed landscape. “No reason we can’t attack it from both ends.”
“Can’t be out here every day protesting,” Chulah said. “We all have jobs, including you.”
“There’s always the weekends,” she muttered.
Several vehicles pulled onto the side of the road, including a faded red Chevy truck. Payton and the other workers had arrived.
She watched as he jumped out of his truck and sauntered over their way, along with Matt, the crew supervisor. Her stomach gave an eager, betraying little lurch. If she’d hoped seeing Payton again in the broad light of day would make her come to her senses, she was dead wrong. If anything, the dawn’s light shining on his ash-blond hair and the hard flint of gunmetal-gray eyes made her toes curl. None of last night’s good humor or desire showed in his face today. In fact, he didn’t look at all pleased to see her. Had she really kissed this foreboding man last night? Felt his desire pressing against her abdomen?
Matt spoke first. “What are you all doing here?”
“Protesting the desecration of our land,” she said quickly. “I told you I’d be back with more people.”
“You got a permit for this demonstration?” Matt scowled, ignoring her as he stared at Tombi.
Two natural-born leaders seemed to recognize each other on some primitive level. Must be some testosterone signals in the air.
“Don’t need one,” Tombi said levelly. “This strip of land we’re standing on is public property. We’re not on your work site.”
“Make sure it stays that way,” Matt said with a growl. “We don’t take kindly to intruders on our property.” He pinned her with a direct stare.
Tallulah’s gaze flew to Payton. So he’d told Matt she’d been at the farmhouse last night.
She drew her shoulders back and regarded Matt with a level stare. “If that’s a threat, you don’t scare me.”
“What’s all this about?” Tombi asked, puzzled.
“Payton caught her skulking behind one of our vehicles at the house last night. If there’s any damage to our vehicles or property, we know where to look.”
“It’s not your house, it belongs to Jeb Johnson,” she said hotly. “And I’d never destroy—”
Tombi cut her off. “None of us are going to hurt your stuff. That’s not our way.”
Matt huffed. “See that you don’t.” He aimed another glare at Tallulah, then stalked away.
“Well, that’s a fun start to the morning,” she drawled, staring accusingly at Payton.
“He has a right to know what’s going on.”
“I’d like someone to clue me into what’s happening,” Tombi insisted.
Payton raised a brow. “And you are...?”
“Tombi Silver, Tallulah’s brother.”
Payton extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. Tallulah spoke of you last night.”
Her twin shot her a quizzical look as he shook hands with Payton.
“We met yesterday when she stood in front of my skidder while I was doing my job,” Payton continued. His manner was calm and friendly. Damn him. “Then we ran in to each other again last night when I found her hiding behind one of our vehicles at the house.”
Her cheeks flamed. He was painting her in the worst possible light.
“Is that true?” Tombi asked her. His face grew rigid, which meant he was getting riled.
“Yes, but—”
“It won’t happen again,” Tombi said to Payton.
“You can’t speak for me,” she sputtered. Her brother might be the leader of the shadow hunters, but he had no right to act so bossy.
Payton nodded. “Thanks. Much appreciated. We’ll just put this unpleasantness behind us.”
He faced her, his mouth upturned in one corner. She couldn’t tell if he was smirking or was genuinely amused at her expense. He held out his hand and she glanced down at it like it was a snake. She was conscious of all the protestors watching the little drama. If she refused to shake Payton’s hand, everyone would accuse her of being surly and unreasonable. And that meant the protests to the land destruction might cease.
Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his and then quickly tried to pull back.
Payton maintained a tight grip. “I’m still interested in that date we talked about, if your social calendar happens to be free.”
Someone in the crowd snickered.
Tallulah seethed. He made it sound like they were already an item. Well, she had kissed him, but she hadn’t agreed to a date.
Payton let go of her hand and smiled genially at Tombi. “Maybe we could all get together for dinner sometime and talk.”
“I’d like that,” Tombi agreed at once. “Matter of fact, if you’re free tonight, my wife and I would love to have you over to our place for supper. About seven?”
“Great, thanks.” Payton gave her a triumphant wave. “Pick you up about quarter ’til the hour. I remember the way.”
Tallulah rounded on her brother. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“I think it’s time we all took our leave,” Chulah said. “I’ve worked on Hank’s motorcycle a time or two and know him fairly well. I’ll see if I can talk to him about the land. Find out for sure what’s going on.”
“We’ll just stay a bit longer,” one of the protestors said. “Make a general nuisance of ourselves and see if we can stop their cutting for the rest of the day.”
“Why did you invite him to dinner?” she continued. “I don’t want to see him.”
Tombi raised a brow. “You sure about that? I saw the way you looked at him when he walked over to you.”
A telling warmth flooded her cheeks. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t have anything to do with the issue. The fact is, he’s destroying our land and—”
Tombi raised a hand. “Did you or did you not go over to their farmhouse without permission?”
“Yes, but—”
“We’ll talk about it at dinner tonight. Okay? I’ve got a busy day scheduled with work.” His face softened. “Listen, sis. I think it’s terrific you’re interested in seeing someone again. I know how tough it’s been on you with Bo’s death and then that mess with Hanan. This Payton seems like a nice enough guy. Give him a chance.”
With that, he strode away and left her standing, mouth ajar. What had just happened here? The roar of a machine erupted nearby and she glanced toward the sound.
Payton raised a hand and waved at her, a grin splitting his face.
* * *
Jillian slanted Payton a long, assessing look as she stood by the stove, stirring soup made with fresh vegetables from the local market. The lone female of their pack, she kept their various residencies running smoothly and was indispensable in keeping them organized.
Inwardly, he groaned. Since she’d already seen him headed for the fridge, he continued on, brushing past her. A musky pheromone scent, a harbinger of desire, hovered close to her body like a horny aura.
He pretended not to notice as he poured a glass of iced tea and returned the pitcher to the refrigerator.
Jillian smiled tentatively. “Haven’t seen much of you since we arrived in Alabama,” she said.
“Been busy,” he mumbled, knowing the excuse was lame.
Her smile faltered. “Are you upset with me about anything? Have I done something wrong?”
“’Course not. Been busy settling in with the new job. That’s all.”
Damn. How was he going to get out of this without hurting her feelings? Sure, they’d shared a few experimental kisses and more over the last couple months, but she didn’t excite him. Not like Tallulah. Damn it to hell. He desperately wished he desired Jillian. After all, she was the alpha’s sister. Mating with her would be acceptable within the pack. As she was the only female wolf in the group, several of the males would jump at the chance to mate with Jillian.
He was a fool.
Payton took a long swallow of tea. He needed to find a tactful way to break it off, but he wasn’t sure which would be worse—Jillian’s hurt or Matt’s anger.
“I made that stew you like and homemade bread to go with it,” she said.
“Sorry, I’ve got plans for supper tonight.”
“Plans?” she asked, her mouth slightly downturned. “What kind of plans?”
He suppressed a sigh. “With a couple of friends.” Not a lie, but not the whole story, either. It was easier to avoid a confrontation. He kept hoping she’d get the message he wasn’t interested, but Jillian was persistent.
“We’ve only been here a week. You sure make friends fast.”
Did he imagine the disapproving note in her voice? He left every conversation with her feeling vaguely guilty.
“I’m a friendly kind of guy,” he mumbled.
Russell winked at him from the hallway, and Payton scowled at his best friend. Nothing funny about the situation—just pure awkwardness. With another wink, his friend strolled into the kitchen.
“We’ve got a couple hours free this afternoon before you have to get ready for your date,” Russell offered. “Let’s take a stroll and go exploring.”
“Date?” Jillian asked sharply. “I thought you said it was dinner with friends.”
“A date with friends,” he said grimly. Payton hurried out of the kitchen, rolling his eyes at Russell, but still thankful for the diversionary tactic he’d provided. Perfect opportunity to bail out of the heavy talk with Jillian.
“A walk sounds great,” he replied, trying to keep the relief out of his voice. “Later, Jillian.”
They beat a hasty exit out the back door. Heat slammed into every pore of his body, and he sighed. “Thanks, man. Although you didn’t have to mention the date part.”
Russell chuckled. “Thought I’d give her a little wake-up call. Been in that situation before. You want her to get the message, but at the same time you have to tread easy with her feelings or risk Matt’s wrath.”
“Like I didn’t know that,” he muttered. How the hell was he supposed to manage that?
Guilt twisted his gut. He’d never meant to encourage Jillian. He hadn’t discouraged her, either, if he was being honest. He’d hoped that one day his feelings would change, or that he’d want to settle down with an acceptable mate. Which was totally unfair to Jillian. A beautiful woman, and a shapeshifter like himself, shouldn’t have to wait for anyone. She deserved more.
Payton followed Russell across the cotton field. His friend was more familiar with the new place since Payton hadn’t had much time for exploring.
“This job is turning out to be a pain in the ass,” Russell said. “For such a small town, they’ve had lots of people show up protesting our work.”
Payton hid a grin. Tallulah had shown up that morning with almost a dozen people, peacefully protesting the tree clearing. And by peaceful, he didn’t mean pleasant. It was as if the momentary closeness of last night had never happened. Tallulah had been as abrasive as at their first meeting, frowning, snapping and making a general nuisance of herself at every opportunity. Work had slowed to a snail’s pace, and Matt had decided they might as well take off early. “They’ll get tired of protesting after a few days,” Matt had predicted.
Payton wasn’t so sure. The others might tire, but he guessed Tallulah was made of sterner stuff.
“Do you ever feel bad about the work we do? I mean, we do destroy the land.”
If he couldn’t talk about this with his best friend, who could he talk to?
Russell shrugged. “Nah. If we don’t do it, someone else will.”
That reasoning didn’t entirely soothe his conscience, even though he’d used that excuse as well. Plenty of wrongs had been committed throughout history with the same justification.
“What about vet school? You used to dream of being a veterinarian when we were in high school.”
“Idle dreams. I didn’t have the grades to cut it,” Russell said. “You know me.”
“Well enough to know that if you’d applied yourself to your studies, you’d have made it. Always were smart as hell.”
Unlike himself. The only thing he’d ever shown aptitude for was mechanical tinkering.
“You don’t have to work a skidder all your life.” Russell peered at him intently. “There’s room in the pack if you want to leave the lumber crew and try something you like better.”
Payton bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean? That I’m not needed?”
“Relax, dude. I’m saying there’s enough men in the timber crew that you can branch out on your own.”
Something of Payton’s reluctance must have shown on his face, and Russell shook his head. “I get it. You feel like you owe Matt and the others for taking you in. But you don’t. No one will think less of you for leaving the crew.”
“Maybe not you. Others might.”
Russell had been a true friend when Payton first entered the pack, one of the few to accept him unconditionally. His parents had died in a terrible boat accident when he was a teenager, and he’d been left alone in the world until the pack brought him in. Given his father’s murderous past, Payton would always be grateful that Matt took him under his wing, and for Russell’s immediate friendship.
“Doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks,” Russell insisted. “As long as Matt understands, that’s all that counts.”
“All right, already. I’ll consider it one day.”
They both knew it was a lie. Payton avoided anything that made it appear he’d deliberately distance himself from the pack. He would not be like his father.
As they hiked the small trail from the field and into the woods, Payton unwound, soothed by the unique beauty of the bayou. Thanks to the shade from a canopy of trees, the temperature cooled considerably.
“It’s way different than out west, but it’s pretty amazing here,” Payton commented. “Has a spooky feel with all that Spanish moss and those gnarled cypress trees.”
“It’s different, all right. Wait ’til you see what I found close by.”
Curious, Payton followed. A few twists and turns later, Russell stopped. “This is it.”
Feathers and ribbons hung from low-lying branches in about a twelve-foot-wide diameter that was bordered by seashells. The sandy soil was raked clean with precisely placed crystals sparkling in the ground like unearthed treasure. In the center was a pile of rocks and timber for a fire.
Payton stepped inside the circle, feeling as if he was violating sacred land. He touched a faded ribbon and inspected the hanging artifacts. “Dream catchers,” he said, remembering the miniature one Tallulah had worn.
“I know that,” Russell scoffed. “But what are they doing out here in the middle of the woods? It’s weird. And kinda creepy.”
Strange, yes. But the feel of the area was peaceful, if a bit melancholy.
“Beats me what the purpose of this place could be.”
He walked around the edge of the circle, examining the crystal grids and the dozens of hanging dream catchers. A bright red ribbon caught his eye. It had not yet faded like the others, and the turkey feather fastened beside the ribbon looked new. Payton held it, turning it in different directions. A small patch of beadwork on the back, only a couple of inches long, read For Bo, Love Always, Tallulah.
His breath caught. Who was Bo? His palm fisted over the beaded message. His Tallulah was in love. Jealousy, then shock, washed through him. Tallulah wasn’t his anything. He dropped his hand to his side and looked at the area with new eyes. Was this some lovers’ tryst, far from prying eyes? If so, why the secrecy? Why the elaborate decorations?
“Hey, found something,” Russell called. “Come here and check out this carving.”
Payton strode to where Russell stood by a massive oak, fingers tracing a primitive message—RIP Bohpoli.
Bohpoli—Bo?
Of course. This wasn’t a secret meeting place for lovers. It was a shrine to a dead lover.
“What’s a Bohpoli?” Russell asked.
“I suspect it’s a person’s name. That person must have died here. You know, like you see crosses by the side of roads, marking where loved ones died in a car accident.”
“Makes sense. But the survivors have gone a little over the top, don’t you think?”
Payton took in the meticulous care and attention, at the various states of decline in the dream catchers’ ribbons and feathers. Tallulah had loved long, and loved deeply. Underneath that prickly exterior was a highly sensitive woman. One that maddened and intrigued him all at once.
“Over the top?” Payton said, aware of a loneliness he didn’t know existed until that moment. “Maybe. But it would be damn nice to have someone love you like that.”
“Amen, brother. Amen.”
* * *
Annie served everyone salad and dinner began.
Tallulah’s normally reticent brother and Payton seemed to be getting along famously, chitchatting about motorcycles and places to see while in Bayou La Siryna—which weren’t many unless you were into nature sights. Tallulah didn’t see how a lumberjack could possibly appreciate natural settings.
“The wildlife sanctuary is open on Saturdays,” Tombi said, helping himself to more salad.
“I don’t think Payton’s interested in wildlife.” She smiled sweetly. “Considering how he’s part of a team destroying their habitat every day.”
“Disturbing the snakes and skeeters and possums? ’Cause that’s all I’ve observed down here so far.”
“We have deer and gators and yellowhammers...” She stopped at the grin on his face. Yep, she’d taken his bait and run with it. She laid down her fork. “It really doesn’t bother you to cut down trees for a living?”
“Tallulah,” Annie admonished gently.
Tombi shot her a warning look. “Payton’s a guest in our house.”
“It’s okay.” Payton set down his glass of tea. “I’ll admit it bothers me a little. But it’s honest, tax-paying work and I’m not ashamed of my job.”
“At least you didn’t make the excuse that if you didn’t do it someone else would,” she muttered.
“Well, there is that.”
“Chulah spoke to Hank today,” Tombi interrupted, taking the heat off Payton. “Hank said if the developers offered him a good deal on the land, he would take it. Can’t blame a man for doing what he needs to with his own land.”
“Don’t you care about our woods? This could start a bad precedent.”
“Hank and Sashy have two children starting college in a few years,” Annie said quietly. “There’s two sides to every story.”
“I still don’t like it,” she insisted.
Annie stood and began collecting plates. “Hope you like pot roast and potatoes,” she said to Payton.
“Love it.”
Tallulah stood as well and gathered up her and Payton’s plates, then followed Annie into the kitchen.
“Might want to go a little easier on your date,” Annie said offhandedly.
“He’s not my...oh, okay. I’ll give him a pass for the evening. But I’m still going to protest what they’re doing.”
Annie pulled the roast out of the oven and set it on the counter. “Maybe that won’t be needed. I think all we have to do is send April over to sweet-talk Sashy. Chulah’s wife will convince her the deal is bad.”
“That’s actually a great idea,” Annie agreed. “Sashy can get her husband to come around. All we need to do is ask April to wield her magic.”
“Magic?” Payton stood in the doorway.
Tallulah and Annie exchanged a secret smile.
“So to speak,” Annie said.
“What are you doing in here?” Tallulah asked bluntly. Was he trying to sneak up on them?
“Came to see if you needed any help.”
Annie handed him a pair of kitchen gloves. “You can carry in this casserole dish if you’d like.”
The sight of the tall, handsome lumberjack wearing kitchen gloves made Tallulah want to giggle. No, take that back. It was adorable. Melt-your-heart kind of cute. She grabbed the basket of rolls and followed him back to the dining room.
The rest of dinner proceeded smoothly and they left the cabin after another hour or so of après-dinner drinks and talking.
The warm glow on the drive home wasn’t just from partaking of Tombi’s excellent whiskey. The blond giant driving beside her had much to do with her good humor. She glanced at him, suddenly shy. “Glad we could set aside our differences for the evening.”
He laid a hand on her left thigh. “I have high hopes for us.”
She eyed his hand suspiciously. If Payton had high hopes about sleeping with her on a first date, he could think again.
At her cabin, he hurried to open her car door and escorted her to the front door.
The awkward moment had arrived. “Would you like to come in for coffee?”
He leaned an arm against the door and stared at her, his gray eyes so dark that the glints of blue in them were the subtle hue of an oiled, polished handgun. “Better not,” he said gruffly. “You’re much too tempting.”
“I am?” Her voice was a whisper in the breeze.
“Very much so. First dates, I don’t believe in anything more physical than a kiss.”
She laughed.
“I’m serious.”
Tallulah cocked her head to the side and studied his face. Yes, he meant what he’d said. She found it oddly endearing. Old-fashioned, chivalrous and sexy as all get-out. She stuck out a hand. “If you’d like we can just shake hands and call it a night.”
“Not on your life.”
He bent down and claimed her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers until she felt weak-kneed and fevered, never wanting it to end.
He drew back and then rested his forehead on hers. “I better go, Lulu.”
“Okay,” she agreed, still in a haze. She inserted the key into the lock opened the door and then swiftly turned back to him. “What did you call me?
“Lulu. Tallulah is a mouthful.”
She frowned. “I don’t like it. It sounds...undignified.”
“It’s adorable. It suits you.”
“Humph.” She shut the door and went to the window, watching as Payton drove off. The man could make her go from joy to irritation in two seconds. And passion? It always seemed to shimmer between them like a promise.
* * *
He began his slow descent to a night of freedom—no small feat considering that it was under the noses of over a dozen pack members. Even sleeping, their heightened senses were sensitive to noise. Ever so slowly, he climbed out of bed and padded barefoot out of the bedroom, down the hall and stairs and through the den. At the back door he paused for several minutes, ears alert for the slightest stirring of movement.
They would never understand.
The blood thirst churned his gut and would not be sated, no matter how hard he tried.
Satisfied that the rest of the pack was still asleep, he turned the doorknob with painstaking carefulness. He briefly considered shifting and using the doggie door, but it had an annoying flap that was surprisingly noisy. Carefully, he slipped into the dark cover of night. Even then, he had to exercise extreme caution. He scurried to the hedges at the side of the house and shape-shifted. Bone and sinew twisted and transformed skin to fur. Two legs multiplied to four and his large paws padded on the soil. Belly close to the ground, he crept to the middle of the cotton field, just in case someone had wakened and chanced to look out a window.
His heart beat more rapidly, pulsing with the conflicting emotions of excitement and revulsion. And then he was free—racing into the woods, tongue panting, senses alive with the smell and sounds of the night.
It’ll be okay. I’ll find some small animal again. I can control the blood hunger.
Alabama was a new start. Never again would he kill a human. It was too dangerous for him and for the whole pack. If they ever caught on to his secret, his life would be over. From here on out, he’d content his bloodlust by feasting on small animals.
And so, once more, he was on the hunt.
He sniffed and tracked a scent, only to bungle the catch, as several hares took off when he came within a few feet of them. A lone wolf on the prowl was not the natural way of the hunt. They were pack animals for a reason, working together with patience and intelligence to track prey and target the weakest animal in a group.
He’d been outside for a good while now. Every minute he was out alone, he risked the others realizing his secret. But he couldn’t go back without something to ease the stomach cramps caused by a lack of blood and flesh. He continued hunting, close to the cotton field, reduced to rumbling his snout through leaves to rouse field mice.
Not how he’d imagined his future. But to admit to the pack that he’d been infected by the fever was unthinkable. They’d haul him away to that so-called rehabilitation compound in the barren desert, although—to his knowledge—no wolf had ever been cured. It would be a fenced-in existence with constant surveillance. A werewolf prison where all were condemned to the equivalent of a life-without-parole sentence.
He’d rather die.
Like a dog with a prize buried bone, he circled around to the outdoor memorial decorated with dream catchers. The feathers and ribbons fluttered like agitated ghosts. Just as well the bitch wasn’t present. His chest still smarted from the rocks she’d flung. He’d been lucky not to suffer a serious injury.
A rustling emerged at the edge of the field, to his left. His ears twitched and his belly rumbled. This sounded like a large, clumsy animal. His mouth salivated at the faint whiff of human.
Torture—like a glass of cold water waved in front of a man dying of thirst. He hesitated. No harm in going to take a look. It could be one of the other pack members had also violated the new rule of no roaming alone in the woods. He crept toward the noise and the smell.
A gray-haired man with a long beard tossed dried corn kernels from a burlap sack. A hunter illegally enticing deer.
He didn’t think. He didn’t plan.
One moment he was an observer, and the next, he was flying down the field and taking a running leap at the old man. Teeth ripped into flesh, tearing open the jugular vein at the man’s neck. Warm blood oozed down his throat as he greedily swallowed it. He was dizzy with elation and the hunger in his belly ceased its relentless gnaw.
It was done.
He sat back on his haunches, full and content. Until he observed the dead man, broken and bleeding, his knapsack of corn spilled into the soil like gold nuggets.
Not again. What have I done?
He whimpered and backed away. When this body was discovered, the questions and accusations would begin anew. Disgust roiled in his gut. He hated himself, hated what he had become.
He slunk back to the farmhouse and briefly considered confessing to the pack. That was one way out of this hell his life had become over the last three years.
But shame and fear overcame good intentions. He couldn’t live like a caged animal.
There would be no repeat offense, he vowed. Somehow, he would learn to control the lust for human blood.
