Matters of the Blood (8 page)

"Did you see what it was?” Adam spoke quickly.

"It went by too fast,” I answered quickly. “It looked pretty big, though, whatever it was. Maybe a wildcat. I'm not sure. I don't think it ran like a deer."

I wasn't quite lying. It hadn't run like a deer. It had run like a wolf ... one that spent part of its life on two legs instead of four. But there aren't any wolves in Texas. Right? Not even were—at least not any more, not that I knew of. At least not in the Hill Country. Maybe. Shit. I didn't really know. My family had cleared out, but that didn't mean someone else hadn't moved in without telling me. If that was the case, someone was going to be in for a world of hurt. This was still my family's acknowledged territory. As long as I was here, no other clan family could move in without permission. I almost smiled at the thought of having the chance to kick some supernatural booty. Playing Marty's babysitter for two years meant no opportunity to practice the fighting skills I'd learned. Even though I'd kept up my training, sparring at a dojo with a human who could get hurt was no substitute for a good confrontation.

Adam leaned forward and peered out into the rain-slashed darkness. “Is there something out there?” he asked. “Next to the road?"

I leaned forward and wiped the glass, trying to see. He was right, I couldn't see what, but something was just off the road, near a clump of mesquite bushes, a few yards away.

Oh, crap. I had to go look. As I opened the driver's door, a sudden gust of wind brought more than the smell of rain to my nose. Whatever was there was dead. Freshly dead. Predator, all right. But what kind?

"What is it?” His voice was terse, abrupt.

"I'm not sure."

Damn it, I needed to see what it was, whether or not it was another deer. If I could catch a sense of its killer, I might be able to figure out what was roaming around. I didn't think it would be dangerous out there. I'd put down some pretty serious odds that the predator had just crossed in front of my car, but I still didn't want to drag Adam into this. This may be his legal turf, but it was still my home turf. And someone was most definitely trespassing. Until I got closer, I wouldn't be able to identify it.

"Something's dead in those bushes,” I finally said. “Stay here, I'm going in to check.” I stepped out into the rain, ignoring the fact that I was going to get soaked again.

Seconds later, a movement immediately to my right startled me. Adam appeared at my side, not a foot away. He must have gotten out when I did. I must not have been paying attention. I'd thought he was still sitting in the car.

"You didn't have to come out and get wet, too."

His answer was quiet, but forceful. “It's my land. I need to look. Although, it's probably just a dead armadillo or something.” His nose wrinkled as if in distaste.

I shrugged. “If it's a dead armadillo it can stay there,” I said. “But if it could be ... something else."

"Human?"

His question startled me.

"What? No—I mean, it's too small."

I knew it wasn't a person. The smell was wrong, although I couldn't tell him that's how I knew.

I grabbed my Maglite from behind my car seat, shut the door and was already walking up the road, my hiking boots gripping the wet rocks. Adam walked to my left, his steps surprisingly sure and solid for a man walking in smooth-soled shoes on a slick gravel road.

The headlight beams didn't quite penetrate this far, so I snapped on the flashlight as I neared the clump of bushes. Lucky for me Mother Nature decided to cooperate just about then and turned off the overhead faucet. I blinked the last of the raindrops from my face.

Shit, I'd almost stepped on its head.

It wasn't a deer.

Glazed eyes stared up at the sky, a gash in the animal's neck spilled over with red-tinted water, washing out the blood that was once there. Orange-striped fur peaked in wet clumps around its body. Its mouth gaped open, exposing its pitiful little fangs. No match for whatever had killed it.

"A cat.” Adam's voice had lost its previous warmth.

I nodded and looked at him as he stepped around me to stand on the other side of the carcass, carefully avoiding the animal's tail. It was a house cat. A big one, maybe eighteen, twenty pounds, but still, once somebody's pet. There was even a blue leather collar around its torn neck.

I braced myself and took a deep breath, trying to sort out particular scents underneath the reek of blood, death and wet ground. A few things came through, a touch of cedar, a hint of Mexican oregano as if the cat had brushed against a bush or two in its wanderings. The sharp bitterness of its maleness. An unneutered tom. Great. Some bozo hadn't bothered to fix his cat and it had either run off or had been dumped out here in the boonies, only to become prey for something bigger and nastier. Then suddenly, a scent I recognized. Shit. It couldn't be. We never hunted pets. I needed to get out of here and make a phone call.

"Do you recognize it?” I asked Adam, hoping it wasn't his cat.

"No.” The once rich voice was brusque and flat. “We have a lot of strays abandoned around here. You really didn't see what ran past?"

"It went by too quickly. But from the looks of it, it could have been a bigger cat or other natural predator.” I was lying, but I couldn't explain to Adam what I suspected. I could see where sharp teeth had shredded the cat's neck.

"Damn.” The soft word spilled out almost in a whisper.

"Yeah,” I said. “Not much like those deer."

Adam's head snapped up, eyes blazing green fire in the glow of the flashlight. For a split second, a trick of the light made it seem as if there was a real flame behind them.

"How did you know about that?” His voice rose, clipping the syllables.

"Hey, take it easy there, Adam,” I said, backing up. “Everyone knows."

"Everyone?"

"It's a small town. Things like that get around. Look, there's no point in staying out here in the wet. Let's go back."

"I'm sorry,” he said, calming down. “It really bothers me that someone could come poach on my land and hurt the animals that I spend so much time rescuing."

"Rescuing?"

"Most of our exotic stock comes from defunct hunting ranches,” he said, ducking under a particularly vicious mesquite branch. “I couldn't let them go to another trophy-hunting place."

"Good for you.” I meant it. I hated those places.

"You don't believe in hunting?"

"It's not that,” I said. “Real hunting's fine as long as you eat what you kill.” Okay, so the way I meant it wasn't exactly the traditional shoot, skin and butcher, but it was true. “I just want the prey to have a fighting chance. Not like these places that treat the game like pets, putting out feed and acclimating them to humans, then ‘too bad, so sad'—it's now somebody's future wall-hanging."

I opened the back door of the Land Rover, and pulled out a couple of towels I kept in a gym bag in the back. I didn't explain that I mostly used them to wipe down the car. I'd just washed them and they were clean.

"Here,” I said, and tossed him a towel.

He smiled as he swabbed the water from his skin, trying to sop up the worst of it. “That's better, thank you."

"You're welcome,” I said and continued to mop water from my hair. A losing proposition. My hair was still braided; in order to really dry it, I'd have to undo the braid and spend a good hour or two with at least two thick towels. That would have to wait until I got home. I peeled off my soaking flannel shirt, leaving me in a thin cotton tank top that was just as wet. But it was more comfortable than the sopping flannel.

Adam looked like he was a candidate for a centerfold, the kind where the model is posing in a pool of water, hair slicked back and clothes clinging to every muscle. He passed the towel over his hair and squeezed the ends.

I looked away, trying to maintain some semblance of control. I wrapped the towel around me and climbed into the car.

"Are you cold?” he asked, climbing in on the passenger's side, his voice once again full of the rich warmth.

"Not really,” I answered, fumbling with the keys. It wasn't cold that made me shiver. I'd covered myself because I didn't want him to see how he was affecting me. At this point, idiot child was rapidly becoming slut puppy—and I was not happy with the whole idea.

"Let me start the car and see if I can get back on the road or we may never get out of here. It's all over mud."

As I put the Rover back into gear and inched until I felt gravel beneath the wheels, Mother Nature pulled another nasty trick. A boom of thunder heralded another downpour, this one stronger than before. I stopped the car and threw it in neutral, then turned off the motor and fastened the parking brake. It was impossible to see more than three feet in front of the hood. I wasn't going to try to drive anywhere again until it let up. The dash lights offered some illumination, so I left them on after turning off the headlights. I wasn't too worried about other traffic. From the looks of this road, not even the guests traveled it very often.

"It looks like we're going to have to wait this out.” I said. “Hope you don't have any major plans.” As I said that, a little ping of memory registered in my tired brain. Shit.
Bea
.

[Back to Table of Contents]

I dialed her mobile, not sure where she'd be. She answered on the second ring.

"
Hola, chica,
what's shaking?” I could hear the sound of music in the background.

"Hey, girl, there's been a slight alteration in plans."

"What's up, Keira?"

"Well, I'm sort of stuck.” I didn't quite know how to tell her what was happening. I didn't really want to get into all the gory and not-so-gory details until I could sort everything out. “Are you at my house yet?"

"Yep, just got here. I'm starting to fix some nachos."

"Great, but I'm going to be a little while yet.” I glanced over at Adam, who, to his credit, was trying to pretend he wasn't listening to my conversation. I could see his head turned toward the front of the car.

"I'm giving someone a ride to the Wild Moon,” I explained. “But the rain's coming down too hard and I can't see to drive. We're going to wait it out for a little while."

"Cool beans,” she answered, mumbling over her chewing. “Who's the lucky passenger?"

"His name is Adam Walker. He was stranded out by the funeral home.” I glanced over. He was still staring off into the dark.

I could hear Bea's gasp even over the rain pounding on the Rover. “No way, really? Adam Walker?"

"What do you mean?” I turned my head away from Adam and lowered my voice. He probably could hear me anyway, but I could at least pretend my conversation was private.

"Woo hoo,
m'hija;
you are so way lucky!” I could hear the grin in her voice. I started to flush again.

"What did you just say?” I wasn't sure if I'd heard her right.

"He's the owner of the ranch. Mm-mm, gorgeous and rich—two strikes for, I'd say."

I was startled. “You know him?"

"Sure,” she said. “Well, not really know him. But I've seen him.” She crunched in my ear. A nacho.

"I had to pick something up at the deli the other night after I closed and when I went in, there was this
guapo
over at the counter. Boris introduced me. Whew!"

She paused and I could hear a cork pop. Damn. She'd even opened the wine.

"Anyway,
m'hija,
he was something else. When he looked at me, I couldn't even remember my own name. Those eyes."

"Bea, uh, thanks. I'll get there as soon as I can."

Well, at least I knew I wasn't the only one who was affected by Adam. If I didn't hang up, I knew she'd go on to wax poetic about his physique, and then have me hopping into bed with him before the conversation was through. Beatriz Ruiz certainly had a fine appreciation for the male half of the species. Not that I was complaining, but no sense in getting even more embarrassed than I already was.

"No problem.” She laughed into my ear. “See you when you get here, you lucky thing."

"Stop it! And don't eat all the food,” I said as I disconnected.

There was a moment of silence which was more uncomfortable than not. I didn't exactly know what he'd heard of Bea's side of the conversation if anything. Adam spoke first.

"Everything okay with your friend?” I could swear I heard amusement.

I nodded. “Yeah, she's just dandy; she started the party without me."

He grinned, a flash of even white teeth that gleamed even in the faint light from the dash. “Sounds as if she's enjoying herself."

"That she is.” I flicked on the headlights for a moment to see if the weather had improved any. It hadn't. I still couldn't see any further than a couple of feet past the hood.

"I think we're going to be stuck here a while,” I said. I knew it wasn't exactly original, but I didn't know what else to say. I didn't know if I actually minded, but at some point, I still had another phone call to make—about that dead cat. It was a call I couldn't make with any chance of being overheard.

Adam didn't reply, but I could hear him shifting in his seat. The Rover was a great car, but it wasn't exactly the most comfortable vehicle in the world. This model was designed to be a working truck, not luxury transportation. Plus, it was getting a little chilly. I was probably more comfortable in my wet jeans and towel draped over my shoulders than he was in his wet shorts. My leather jacket was in the back, but his shoulders were much broader than mine.

"Are you warm enough? I might be able to dig up another towel or two.” I automatically reached out to feel his arm. He'd turned in his seat and my hand touched his upper thigh instead. I snatched it back. His skin was cool and smooth to the touch.

"Sorry,” I mumbled, glad that the darkness hid the multiple shades of red that I could feel blossoming on my face. Damn, I didn't want this blushing thing to become a habit.

"Don't be,” he said, his voice soft. “Relax, Keira."

"I'm fine,” I answered automatically. “I've just had a bad day.” Or the mother of all bad days ... and I had a feeling it was going to get worse before it got better.