Chasing Her Tail (12 page)

“That seems reasonable,” John agreed.

“I need you to find out for me whether my assumption is correct.” Her voice shook on the last word and Bridget whined a little in sympathy.
Men are bastards
, she thought.

Sorry, John—except for you. The rest though…

Micah’s face flashed across her mind but she quickly shoved the thought away.

Bastard.

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The car behind Micah honked and flew by in a flash of silver. He barely glanced at it, intent on studying the ditches and outlying fields for any sign of Bridget. He wanted to park the car and change to see if he could get a scent but it was too dangerous on a busy highway during the day. Even at night, he’d have to find a secluded place to park the car and change. With the way things had been going since his conference with Sam’s teacher, he’d probably unknowingly pick private land as his parking spot and the property owner would be waiting with a shotgun when Micah returned.

Therefore, he was driving too slowly on the highway, scanning either side in what was most likely a futile effort. A flash of golden brown gleamed in the ditch grass and Micah hit the brakes and jerked the wheel to the right. He parked on the shoulder, jumping out almost before the car finished rolling to a stop.

Nausea rolled in his belly as he waded through the weeds toward the spot he’d glimpsed. Even in human form, he could smell the reek of death as he moved closer.

Micah could hear his rough breaths but couldn’t do anything about the sound. It was like his body belonged to someone else.

The patch of brown fur grew larger until he could see the whole animal—a deer.

His legs lost their strength and he fell to his knees next to the carcass, the cold sweat of relief prickling his neck. The fur was the exact shade of Bridget’s hair, the color of polished maple wood. This so easily could have been her—changed and confused in the wilderness, wandering out in front of a car, possibly pursued by a dog or Carlson’s men.

Breathing deeply and then coughing when he managed to suck in a lungful of the smell of deer decomposition, Micah regained his feet and climbed out of the roadside ditch. Despite the danger of changing, he needed to do it. He needed to track her. This way was going to drive him crazy. Tonight, after it got dark, he’d drive out here again and change under cover of night.

“You okay, buddy?” A man had pulled over behind Micah’s car and was calling out the window. Micah didn’t blame him for not getting out—he must look pretty crazy stumbling around in the ditch.

“Yeah, thanks,” Micah told him. “I’m looking for my dog. That dead deer’s the same color, so I thought it was her from the road.”

“Sure, that’s understandable,” the man said with a sympathetic smile. “Good luck—hope you find your dog.”

“Thanks.” Micah raised a hand as the other man’s car swung back into the southbound lane and rolled passed. Getting into his own car, Micah let his head rest against the seatback for a moment. His heart was still pounding. What was it about this woman? Why did he feel so connected to this almost-stranger?

Taking a deep, shivering breath, he shifted the car into drive. He needed to find her before he went completely insane.

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Katie Allen

Bridget thanked her lucky stars she’d found someone who was not only nice and fed her human food, but who also had a really interesting job. She’d zoned out a little while John told Mrs. Carlson about his rates and policies, but she was quick to move away from her position by the door when she heard them moving in her direction.

She stopped in mid-dart when she realized that neither person would accuse a dog of eavesdropping. Sitting down, she put on her happy, blank dog stare and waited for them to come out.

“What a beautiful dog,” Mrs. Carlson said as she emerged from the office. If Bridget hadn’t already been on the woman’s side, that would have clinched it. She wagged her tail in thanks. “What kind is he? Or she?

“It’s a she,” John answered, following Mrs. Carlson out of the office. “And I’m not sure what she is. I just found her last night.”

“Whatever she is, she’s just gorgeous.” Mrs. Carlson moved toward the exterior door. “Thank you, Mr. Dexter. Please keep me informed of your progress.”

“I will.” John held the door for her to pass through. When it swung shut behind her, he grinned at Bridget. Her tail wagged—she couldn’t help it. “So, gorgeous, feel like helping me track down a cheating bastard of a husband?”

Sure. Not much else on the schedule.

“Want a snack first? I have cashews.”

She really did love him.

Bridget found that if she positioned herself just right, she could see John’s computer screen as he researched Mr. Bartholomew Carlson. On paper, the man was squeaky clean. He seemed to be more of a figurehead at Blue Star than anything. The company was run by a competent board of directors and had a CEO who was more concerned with stability than short-term profit.

Mr. Carlson had other interests. Growing up, he’d been a science geek. His father had left his mother when Bart was eight and his mother had raised him with the help of her father, the founder of Blue Star. When he was nineteen, his mother had died of uterine cancer. He’d gotten a year into his Ph.D in molecular biology before his grandfather had died and left the company in Bart’s hands.

Even after he’d discovered the company ran just fine without much help from him, Bart didn’t return to his studies. Instead, he married Lila, settled at their estate and didn’t do much, as far as anyone could tell. None of the information John found mentioned any interests except for the occasional visit to Blue Star for a stockholders’

meeting.

Bridget cocked her head to the side.
A guy that smart isn’t playing video games all day.

What’s he up to?

“So what does he do all day?” John mused, echoing her thoughts. His hand dropped to her neck and he absently massaged her muscles. Bridget leaned into the 62

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pressure with a soft sigh of pleasure. “You can only fuck around for so long.” He snorted. “Literally.”

She would’ve rolled her eyes at the lame joke except she was too busy enjoying her neck rub.

“Know what I’m thinking?” he asked.

Her ears perked in anticipation.
That it’s time to go spy on the cheating bastard?

“Stakeout.”

Excellent!
Bridget hadn’t expected her dog transformation would involve so much excitement. She’d always figured a dog’s life would be more rabbit chasing and leg humping, so the situation she’d stumbled into was a pleasant surprise. Although she loved being a teacher, her life had gotten a little safe and dull. There’d definitely not been any stakeouts or billionaires cheating on their wives. Maybe she could delay making any long-term decisions about her life for a while. Maybe she could stay a dog and just be John’s pet.

“Too late tonight,” John said, glancing at his watch. “I wouldn’t know where to find him. Mrs. Carlson put what she knows about her husband’s schedule in the file she gave me. Hang on.” He flipped through some papers and pulled out a sheet. “Let’s see… He leaves the house at seven each morning, supposedly to visit the gym and then head to work. Sounds like an early morning for us then.”

John stood up and stretched his arms over his head as Bridget watched, entranced.

He really was a gorgeous man.

“Come on, sweet pea,” he said, smiling at her. She sighed, her tail wagging. “Let’s swing by the pet supply store before I get arrested for violating the leash law.”

Well shit.
Bridget’s dreamy mood was slapped away.
This better not mean dog food.

It wasn’t even fully dark when Micah drove south of the city to change. He turned the car onto a dirt track that had not been used for some time, if the rounded, crumbling edges of the dirt ruts overgrown with weeds were any indication. Parking where the car was almost hidden in a stand of scrubby trees, he moved to the backseat to change.

It was awkward yanking off his clothes inside the car but the tree layer was thin enough to make him nervous about changing outside. Somehow he managed to strip to his skin and then the rest was easy. After cracking the rear door, he changed and hopped out of the backseat. Turning around, he jumped on the back door, using his front paws to swing it closed.

It was a relief to finally be in his dog shape and able to use his nose to search for a trace of Bridget. He trotted toward the road, planning on starting there and then working east, attempting to cross Bridget’s southbound path—if she was still going south, that was. If she’d circled around, it could take him weeks or months to track her down.

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Ignoring the pessimistic thought, Micah focused on what he could smell. He’d been right about the path—all the human smells were bare traces from long ago. Animal scents overran the human smells, crisscrossing over the path as if trying to lure Micah’s dog half on detours into the fields.

Instead he continued straight toward the road, his nose down. Once he reached it, he stayed out of the headlights’ paths, running parallel to the pavement. Now other smells complicated the search—roadkill and fast food wrappers littered the ditch, overlaid with the stench of exhaust.

The scents of people were more common now but Micah dismissed the smell of random strangers. All that mattered was that Bridget hadn’t been here. Micah kept up a steady trot, angling slightly to the left and then heading back toward the road, although he never drew close enough for any of the passing drivers to catch the gleam of his eyes in their headlights. The repetition dulled his mind and he shifted into automatic mode—back and forth, staying on a parallel path with the road.

Since he didn’t have to think about tracking, Micah thought about
her
. Small and sleek in varied shades of brown, from the chocolate of her eyes to the warm tan of her skin to the sleek shade of her hair, which fell somewhere in the middle, there was nothing about her that screamed sex. Still, when he’d walked into that classroom and she’d smiled at him, he’d felt as if he’d been punched in the throat.

He’d wanted to take her right there, over the wide desk that stood between them.

While she’d talked, he’d struggled to pay attention to her words, distracted as he was by the fluttering pulse in her throat and the color that rose beneath her skin. When she’d shown him Sam’s picture though… That had yanked him back to reality, reminding him just what he was.

A few days before the conference, he and Sam had changed. It was their usual schedule, turning into dogs every other day in the late afternoon, followed by a big, meaty meal afterward. Although it was probably overkill to change so often, Micah didn’t want to give the urge a chance to grow in Sam, didn’t want him driven to change somewhere away from the safety of their secluded home. Micah snorted. Obviously, that plan hadn’t worked so well.

Micah and Sam had been running in the woods behind their house when a rabbit had dodged in front of them. The small creature had stared at them, eyes huge and startled. Before he realized what he was doing, Micah had lunged, the dog instincts taking over. He’d felt horrible afterward but by then it had been too late. The rabbit was dead and Sammy had seen it.

Sam had been quiet that night, intensifying Micah’s guilt. He’d never killed anything before, in dog or human form, no matter how much the dog part of him howled for prey.

What kind of monster am I?
Micah had wondered, watching his nephew pick at his dinner. He’d sighed, knowing that he’d managed to fuck up parenting once again.

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Despite knowing that he wasn’t normal, could never be normal, Micah had waited in the parking lot after the conference with Sam’s teacher. There was no way he could ask her out on a normal date, where they could eat and laugh and share their favorite music and movies and the fact that he had to turn into a dog a few times a week.

There was something about Bridget Grace, something that Sam had recognized, turning him from the terror of his kindergarten class to the teacher’s favorite. Micah didn’t blame his nephew for adoring his teacher. There wasn’t much Micah wouldn’t have done for Bridget’s loving touch, her kiss, the hot, wet pull of her body around his fingers…

Micah growled, giving himself a full-body shake. He needed to quit torturing himself. What he needed to do was concentrate, to find Bridget, who obviously hadn’t been here. He veered to the left, planning to cut to the east and hopefully cross her trail, when he caught it—a slight whiff. He froze and, standing stock still, concentrated with everything he had. There it was—Bridget!

Moving to the left, in the way he’d been heading, the scent disappeared so he backtracked. Ahead and to the right, the smell returned, stronger and with an overlying scent that accelerated his heartbeat.

Blood.

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The store clerk leant John a slip lead so he could bring Bridget inside to look at collars and leashes. Her ears flat against her head, her tail tucked, she stayed right next to John’s leg so she wouldn’t get pulled back with a dignity-destroying yank of the leash.

She heaved a sigh, glancing up at the big man.
The things I do for you
, she grumbled mentally. All those happy thoughts about being John’s pet had dissolved, leaving her miserable with a skinny nylon loop around her neck and a strong likelihood she’d be eating kibble for dinner.

When they reached the collar aisle, the choices were staggering.

“How the hell do I know what to get?” John muttered, fingering a choke chain doubtfully.

Not that!
Bridget moved away from the prong collars and other torturous-looking devices toward the other end of the aisle, where the less-scary nylon and leather buckle collars were displayed. She nudged John along with her, still conscious of the leash looped around her neck. Releasing the metal collar he’d been investigating, John followed willingly enough.

“Looks like a BDSM store.” Pulling an extra-small harness from its peg, he added,