Читать книгу Paws And Proposals - Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 26

Boxing Day

JERK.

He’d even managed to ruin the one bit of Christmas she actually enjoyed. Her turkey lunch with the other rostered staff would have sent her off into a much longer tryptophan-fuelled sleep without the residual pool of resentment bubbling in her gut.

Still, she’d had six good hours of sleep and was back for round two of night duty. And maybe round two with Gabe, since he was almost certainly still there and probably still itching for a fight.

She was the one hard done by here; he really had no reason to be griping.

It wasn’t her building the career he wanted. It wasn’t she who had swanned in at the eleventh hour and stolen the job he’d been inching his way towards all year. It wasn’t she who had seduced him out of his senses and only then thought to mention he was staying.

And, by the way, I got the job you had your heart set on.

She’d seen no hint of that when he’d first arrived. A little arrogance—not surprising, given the rock-star treatment he’d got on arrival straight out of the field in Africa. A fair whack of drive and ambition—although she’d had no clue exactly how much until later. And a whole lot of good-looking. Enough to put him firmly out of her league and her right at the back of the long queue forming to the left.

So she’d forced her interest in the charismatic Frenchman way down deep and left him to his bevy of fans. Which didn’t mean she hadn’t liked to watch from afar and keep general tabs on what he was doing—and who with. It just meant she hadn’t done anything about it.

At first.

‘Hey.’ That was as close to a greeting as he was getting from her. She stopped in the doorway.

‘Good—you’re here.’

He rushed straight towards her, his eyes intense, and she stumbled back and readied herself for unexpected contact. But at the very last moment he sidestepped and squeezed past her out into the daylight, into the refrigerated room across the yard behind the exhibits. Her heart played out the dreadful anticipation of just a moment before.

Idiot. Of course he wasn’t going to hug her.

She took over observations at the monitors, glancing occasionally up to the door he’d disappeared through and then down again to scan the day’s progress report. A lot of activity but none of it pup-related.

That would explain the frustrated gleam in his eyes when he’d shoved past her. He must have been counting down the minutes before she arrived.

He reappeared in the doorway, biceps bulging out from under his T-shirt because of the unwieldy sack in his arms.

‘Sheep carcass,’ he said, in clipped French tones.

Ridiculous that he could make even words like that sound sexy.

She reinforced her emotional barriers. ‘Thanks, I’ve eaten.’

His grin nearly undid all her good work. She’d forgotten the impact it had when directed solely at her. He dumped the sack in the doorway. ‘I have a good feeling about tonight.’

‘Based on …?’

‘Their behaviour. The pack has been extra active today. Something’s up.’

His breathlessness reached out and infected her. ‘Tonight? Really?’

‘I have the carcass ready, just in case.’

‘For the pups?’ The colostrum-and-milk-drinking pups?

She deserved the disdain he threw her way. ‘For the adults. To lure them into the night quarters so we can check the den.’

The wild dogs were one of several species that had the freedom to come and go between their zoo exhibit and their night quarters. Anyone wanting to break that routine and lock them in was going to have to come armed with some serious persuasion.

Like a fleshy, fresh sheep-half.

Tonight. That was exciting. ‘You think Mjawi will leave them?’

He flopped down next to her in the seat he’d clearly spent a lot of time in today. ‘Depends. Ordinarily one of the others would just regurgitate for her, but she’s getting antsy. I saw her a lot today. She wants to be out. She might leave them long enough to get a good feed.’

And that’s all they’d need. Just long enough to get in there and do what they’d come to do. Anticipation stained his cheekbones near the corners of those hazel eyes and only defined his angular bone structure more. Another half-hour and they’d be back to a darkness only broken by the light the monitors were throwing off. And she wouldn’t have to stare at that excited colour in his face and remember when she’d last seen it.

She cleared her throat. ‘And if she doesn’t?’

He threw her a look. ‘If she doesn’t then we’ll move on to Plan B.’

‘We have a plan B?’

He shrugged. ‘That’s what you’re here for.’

‘Right …’ No pressure. But the glitter of anticipation in his eyes didn’t ease up. ‘This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?’ she risked.

His thick lashes dropped covertly, under the guise of checking the observation sheet. ‘Sure.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Because I’m a perfectionist.’

Pedant. Obsessive. Same trait, different perspective. ‘That goes without saying. But why is this so personal for you?’ She took a breath. ‘Did you bring the virus in on you? From Africa?’

It was possible. There were definitely cross-species viruses perfectly capable of hitchhiking in an unsuspecting human. And while they had strict quarantine regulations for their wildlife they had fewer for their staff. Even the ones straight out of the field.

His eyes flared and then grew wounded. ‘Is that what you think? That I gave them this disease?’

‘I have no idea what to think. I only realised there was any connection at all this morning.’

He stared at her.

‘So what is the connection, Gabe? Why are you so hot to trot on developing a way to eradicate it?’

His gaze grew more thoughtful—a heap less comfortable—and the silence aged. But finally he spoke. ‘One of the first things I did on joining this round was work with the species coordinator on finding two new members for the zoo’s collection.

He wanted to bring in two animals from New Zealand.’

‘But aren’t the latest arrivals from wild Zambian parents?’

‘I won him over with their totally fresh genetic input. What neither of us realised was that one of them was carrying the virus. It didn’t show up in quarantine.’

Because they hadn’t screened for it. It was an unknown contagion. And by the time it had been picked up the pack was integrated and the virus had spread to the other dogs.

Viruses were nature’s opportunists.

‘So this is your mea culpa?’ she said.

He lifted his eyes again. ‘Partly. It’s also my job.’

And it should have been mine. But fairness made her say instead, ‘It was also the species coordinator’s job. And my department’s. A whole lot of people had a say in them coming.’

‘But it was my recommendation originally.’

She stared. There was no arguing with guilt. ‘So this matters?’

He nodded. ‘It does.’

She could hate him for his values, but not for his dedication to these animals. ‘Okay, then.’

Accord between them, after so long, didn’t sit easily.

The first mosquito of dusk alighted on her skin and she slapped it away. ‘We should get that carcass in there before it’s too dark to see anything.’

Mjawi was novice enough that she betrayed her pups the moment the rest of the pack started running in increasingly agitated circles as they realised what was happening. Nine out of eleven of them were already in the night quarters, alternately squabbling, begging and stealing chunks of the carcass Gabe had sawn into more manageable pieces. Mjawi emerged hesitantly at first, but jogged over to join the other adults as soon as she realised what was on offer.

‘Come on … come on …’

Ingrid stared at the monitor while Gabe stood by the external doors, ready to drop them the moment the last adult entered the safety of the night quarters area. With one eye constantly on the screen, she loaded up a box with the things they’d need to see to the pups.

Syringes. Vaccine. Scales. Microchips.

Dusk was the time most likely for the pups to emerge. By now the crazy Boxing Day crowds had been gone for a couple of hours and everything was quiet in the zoo, the temperature lower. Perfect pup weather. As she reached to place the chip scanner into the box a movement on the screen caught her eye. A black ball of fluff with two blackcurrant eyes poked its head from the entrance to B-den.

Gabe! She wanted to call out but didn’t dare—not with the adults so close to coming in.

The first pup emerged, albeit hesitantly. It was either drawn by the excitement of its elders, looking for its mother, or just a little alpha-in-the-making, boldly going where its siblings hadn’t gone before. At least not without Mum.

She glanced at the second image on the monitors—the one showing the whole exhibit—and saw Mjawi pacing uncertainly at the doorway to the night quarters. The door Ingrid knew Gabe was just waiting to slam shut behind her.

Come on … come on …

The shadow pup paused half out of the entrance hole, suddenly uncertain in the face of the big, wide, lonely world. It turned its head left. Then right. Then it lifted its tiny nose, sniffed the air, and then—

On the other screen Mjawi responded immediately to the uncertain yowl of one of her offspring. She abandoned her position by the door and sprinted straight back to the den, shoving her nose under the pup’s belly and scooting it ahead of her and back into the den. Her big body squeezed in after it and both of them were gone.

She felt Gabe’s frustration before she heard it.

‘There was a pup, wasn’t there?’ He burst in from the doorway.

She nodded.

‘How did it look?’

‘Small. Healthy.’ Oh, good one—remind him of what’s at stake. That was sensitive.

Gabe played the CCTV footage back. ‘Just the one.’

His despondency reached out to her. They’d already known there was at least one still alive in there. Mjawi wouldn’t be guarding thin air. So they were really no further ahead than they had been this time last night.

‘We have all week,’ she reminded him gently.

But that didn’t encourage him. At all. His eyes darkened dangerously.

‘You’re the best at what you do, Gabe. You’ll get this.’ It galled her to praise him, but his despondency spoke so clearly to her.

He snorted. ‘Words.’

‘No. Not just words …’ They were, really. ‘I hear what others say. I read your reports and recommendations. You know wild dogs. You will get this.’

He’d made something of the job he’d stolen from her. Small consolation. At least he wasn’t wasting the opportunity. And somewhere down deep she knew that the job she would have made of it and the one he’d turned it into were vastly different.

That was an uncomfortable reality to swallow.

He sank into the sling-back chair and stared at the monitor before finally turning his eyes to her. They changed along with the topic of conversation. ‘Did you see your family in the end today?’

That threw her composure enough for her not to guard herself completely. ‘I … No, I thought sleep would be a better use of my time.’

One French eyebrow shot up.

‘I can see them tomorrow … or … soon.’ Heat surged up her neck. ‘They knew I was working.’

Understanding dawned. ‘You’re avoiding them.’

‘No.’

‘You’re avoiding them and telling them you had to work.’

She flicked her chin up. ‘You’re working.’

‘My family are all in France. What’s your excuse?’

‘It’s Christmas lunch now in Paris. I don’t see you rushing to get on the phone.’

He snorted. ‘And you won’t.’

She stared at him. ‘So maybe we’re both avoiding Christmas the politically correct way.’

His silence was almost an accusation.

‘They’ll have barely missed me,’ she defended. ‘The kids will be keeping them busy. Chewing the gift-wrapping and drawing on the wall with turkey stuffing.’

‘Your parents have petits enfants?’

His surprise was reasonable, given she was twenty-five years old. That was a big gap between conceptions. ‘Not together. But, yes.’

He frowned. ‘They’re divorced?’

‘And remarried. Mum married a man only five years older than me. They have two kids under three. Dad inherited a new family with his new wife.’

‘Another family,’ he corrected.

Most of the time it definitely felt like his new family. ‘So I figure I’m doing them a kindness in keeping Christmas simple. They don’t need me to worry about.’

‘You don’t think they’d like to have you there to help with the finger-painting?’

‘They’d both offer, of course. And then I’d have to choose. And choosing would only fuel a new thing between them. If I chose Mum I’d have to sit with Trevor’s younger brother and endure him feeling me up under the table after he’d had a few drinks. And if I chose Dad then I’d make Elizabeth sick trying to over-please me.’ She sighed. ‘I think this was win-win for everyone, really.’

‘Interesting family.’

She shot him a sideways glare. ‘And yours is perfect, of course?’

‘Far from it. But at least they’re still all together. Way too together.’

She turned full-on to him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Christmas at Château Marque is about showcasing. Wives. Cars. Gifts. Achievements. The whole family comes together before breakfast and then stays the night on the estate.’

‘Ugh. That’s a lot of Christmas. How many people?’

‘I have four brothers. Each of them married. Two with children.’

She stared at him. Suddenly being felt up by your twenty-two-year-old step-uncle for an hour was looking pretty good.

‘What sorts of achievements do they … showcase?’

‘Career, mostly. Unique cases. Famous clients. Who got the newest to the front page in the newspapers and for what.’

‘What do your family do?’

He shrugged. ‘Two surgeons, a lawyer, a senior politician and an engineer.’

She blinked. ‘Wow. Impressive genes.’ To accompany the physical ones, apparently.

‘Depends on your perspective.’

‘You’re not proud of their achievements?’

‘They’re proud enough of their own achievements without my assistance.’

‘You don’t like them?’

He held her gaze. ‘They’re my family. I love them. But I refuse to be like them.’

‘Hence your travels?’

He shrugged. ‘Africa’s a hard place to Skype from on Christmas Day.’

Not at all what she had expected. In her mind Gabriel Marque came from a loving, provincial family who were heartbroken at his long absence.

‘And Australia?’

He shrugged one shoulder. ‘Busy working.’

She stared at him for a moment longer. Another bit of mortar was crumbling out of the walls she’d carefully mounded up around her.

She pushed to her feet. ‘I have an idea.’

‘For what?’

‘Plan B.’

‘You want to tunnel between dens?’

‘It worked for the new freeway. They tunnelled most of the way under the city and then just pushed the last bit through on the official opening day, with all the media there. We could do the same. When Mjawi’s out of the den.’

‘And if she unexpectedly returns?’

‘Distraction is your job.’ You should find that no trouble. ‘But I can be out in seconds. And she’ll find a new chamber leading to A-den. Maybe she’ll use it.’

‘Maybe she won’t.’

‘I bet she would if anything happened to her own den.’

Even he couldn’t argue with the sense of an escape route. ‘And what makes you think you’d be a better tunnel-digger than Mjawi?’

Her hands went to her hips. ‘I was the sand-castle queen of my whole suburb. I’ve dug more moats and bridge arches and catacombs than you could imagine.’

‘Catacombs?’

She glared at him. ‘They were very detailed castles.’

Nerd! The taunts of the kids at school came flitting back. As if her thick glasses and top grades hadn’t been target enough.

His lips pursed as he tried to find a flaw with the plan. ‘What if you disturb her?’

‘I’ll be doing it at night when she’s asleep. It’s probably only six feet. Cutting through A-den’s wall will be the slowest part, and I’ll use a hand saw so it’s quiet.’

Gabe crossed to the hatch that opened from the monitoring area into the manmade den dug deep beneath the earth that was mounded up against the night quarters wall. He eased it open on its hinges.

‘You won’t fit,’ she pre-empted. ‘I barely will.’ There was no way on this planet that the opening would accommodate those amazing shoulders.

He turned and glared at her. ‘It’s going to be hard work.’

‘I’m not afraid of hard work.’ She threw her hair back. ‘Come on, Gabe, admit it. It’s a good plan.’

‘It’s a crazy plan.’

‘Because you didn’t think of it?’

‘Because if you make too much noise she could abandon the pups.’

She rolled her eyes and his glare intensified.

‘And because you could be hurt.’

Oh. That was sweeter than she was comfortable with. ‘If it all caves in on me then you can just pull me out by my feet.’

His snort was as good as a yes. ‘Dignified.’

‘You’ve seen worse.’

Whoops—straight from the place she kept all her secrets. But the eyes he lifted to her said he didn’t misunderstand. And he hadn’t forgotten. He’d been as clumsy and desperate as she had that night. As if they’d both known it was the only chance they were going to get.

The intensity didn’t let up. ‘You only dig while I’m in here monitoring.’

She would have baulked at the command if not for the fact there was a thread of genuine concern running under it. ‘Who are you monitoring? Mjawi or me?’

He shrugged one shoulder. ‘I’m responsible for you.’

‘Actually, you’re not,’ she reminded him on an overly bright smile, ‘because I’m the one rostered and you’re a volunteer overnight. But I’m happy to have your back-up.’

He sighed and straightened. ‘Okay. What are you going to need?’