Shelter Me (24 page)

“Because you feel you owe my father?”

Why was she pushing this? He turned his plastic cup on the table, choosing his words carefully. “That’s a part of it. I can’t deny that. But honest to God, Sierra, I would really prefer not to talk about your dad while we’re talking about sex. It’s seriously outside of my comfort zone.”

He drained his tea to wash away the lingering taste of smoke in the air.

Sierra tipped her head back, staring up at the sky, the first stars just starting to blink through. “Was he happy during his last days? I mean, as happy as anyone can be in a war zone.” She glanced at him, the tail of her braid brushing along his arm in a silken touch. “Does that make sense?”

Memories of those months overseas churned in his mind like broken glass in a blender. How could he pick anything out of that mess to share? “We had our lighter moments.”

“Please tell me one. Even though my dad’s only been dead for four months, it’s been a year since I got to see him or hug him. Skype doesn’t count, by the way.”

She wanted lighter? That was definitely preferable if he couldn’t avoid discussing Iraq altogether.

He searched his memory and settled on one moment that happened about a month before . . . before the end. “Your dad was proud of what you and your mom have built with this rescue—”

“You mean my mother built,” she interrupted. “Not me. The Second Chance Ranch is hers.”

“It may be hers, but it’s obvious what a huge role you play in keeping this place—your whole family—afloat.” He admired her for that. After the way he grew up, he knew full well how rare that was, seeing how unselfishly she pitched in for her whole family

“Even though I’m not sure I agree, thank you. Now tell me the happy story about my dad.”

“This one time he was on Skype with you all, and connections were limited so he had to use a public area where there were multiple screens set up, rather than stay in his private room on his personal computer. So we all saw and shouted hellos.”

A fleeting smile crossed her face. “I remember that call.”

“Each of you took a turn talking to him while holding an animal, with other animals wandering around behind you. So many animals. Not just dogs and cats, but the goat and the snake. A couple of rabbits.” The memory sucked him in deeper until he could smell the heavy cooking spices that had always hung in the air. “By the end of the chat, your dad’s forehead was all furrowed. He just said, ‘Well, when my Lacey takes something on, she’s all in.’”

“He understood her well. That sounds like my mom.” Sierra gestured to the yard full of people around a bonfire, dogs playing in the fenced-off area, the goat chomping around the hedges. “Thank you for reminding me of that time talking to him. I’d forgotten, and I don’t want to lose even a memory more.”

“That isn’t all of the story.” He tugged her braid that rested just on top of her breast, letting his knuckles graze her suggestively for a second before he pulled away. “All of us in the platoon made a bunch of origami animals. We worked on them for at least a week. Then while your dad was outside throwing the ball around with Trooper, we filled your old man’s room with all those paper animals. Everywhere. On top of furniture, his bed, the window ledge. They were even ankle deep on the floor.”

She smiled, leaning toward him as if to place herself more in that moment, closer to her father. “What did Dad do?”

“Laughed his ass off until he stumbled back against the door, then shouted, ‘Honey, I’m home.’”

Sierra laughed along with him, such a beautiful melody that eventually trailed off along with her smile. “I guess that explains why he sent my mother an origami dog and cat.” She looked down at her hands twisted so tightly in her lap her fingers had gone stark white. “The letter arrived the day after we buried him.”

They’d lost so many comrades over there, and each one sucker punched them in the gut. But losing their commander, their leader, had left a hollowness in them all that nothing could fill.

Sierra looked back up at him, her eyes glistening with tears in the dusk of nightfall. “Do you mind if I share that story with my mom?”

God, she was breaking his heart here. To hell with keeping his distance or worrying if people realized they were . . . a couple? . . . together again for now. He angled nearer and slid a hand to cup the back of her neck. “Of course you can tell her.”

He started to tug her toward him, to bring her face to rest against his chest—

A shout split the night. “Hey, somebody call the cops!” Nathan yelled. “Someone cut holes in half the kennel gates.”

*   *   *

LACEY RACED TOWARD
the barns. Vaguely she registered Ray shouting for her to stop and be careful, but all she could think about were her animals, helpless in the barn. Right under her nose, with her friends all around her and her defenses down, someone had invaded her home.

At just the time her newly installed security system was turned off.

An arm banded around her waist and lifted her off the ground. “Lacey. Stop,” Ray said. “Think. You need to be careful. Let Mike check it out first. Look, a couple of the volunteers are already searching the woods for any loose dogs or whoever may have done this.”

His words made sense, but her heart wasn’t always logical. She resisted, but Ray held on to her, bringing her back flush against his chest. A muscular, warm chest. Before she could process that, Ray passed her over to the volunteer Debbie and her husband.

Lacey searched the picnic area, lit by porch lights and tiki torches. Mike Kowalski jogged toward the barn with Ray close on his heels. They stopped at the barn door, and Mike nudged Nathan aside carefully but deliberately. The barking inside was growing to a fever pitch.

The two men stood on either side and peered in carefully.

“Shit,” Ray hissed softly, before looking over his shoulder at her. “Lacey, go get leashes and catch poles, anything you can find. All the dogs are out and they’re fighting. It’s bad.”

Without another word, he and Mike slipped into the barn and out of sight. She sprinted to the mudroom to gather anything she could find to secure the dogs and the cats, oh God, the cats. “Sierra, everyone, get crates from the garage.”

She worked so hard to keep these animals safe, temperament testing and carefully selecting playgroups that got along so they would all be more relaxed and happy. These animals had come to her for their second chance, truly their last chance.

And she’d somehow screwed up, lost her focus, missed a sign and let them down. She just prayed none of them would pay the ultimate price for her mistake.

*   *   *

SIERRA’S HEART STILL
hadn’t recovered from the shock that while they’d all partied, someone had vandalized half their kennel runs. Cutting through wire gating. Breaking water feeders off the wall. Slashing open bags of dog and cat food—which involved cutting the bolt on the supply closet.

Thank God Mike and the doc had gotten the dogfight under control in a hurry. Things could have been much, much worse.

She knelt with a small shovel, saving what food she could and storing it in a plastic container. Mike had a toolbox and a huge package of zip ties beside him as he made temporary fixes to gate after gate. Her mom was trying to settle down displaced animals while Doc Vega assessed and treated the injured—three dogs and a cat. Luckily, no injuries appeared lethal, but the vet would still be stitching for a long while.

Thank God, the vulnerable puppies had all been in a separate area. What if this had happened while Lucky was quarantined and detoxing? Thinking about how ugly it could have been was chilling.

The cops had come to investigate and take statements from everyone at the picnic. No one had been found in the woods, and the searchers running had ruined any chance of getting footprints. Considering that somebody at their party could have done this was beyond imagining. That kind of betrayal would destroy her mother. It had to be someone on the outside, like that creepy Kenneth guy next door who still lived with his mother.

Was he watching with binoculars—or night vision goggles—while they struggled to repair the place enough to secure all the animals for the night? They couldn’t bring them all into the house, and they couldn’t leave even a few in the yard for fear they would wander off. There was also the danger of horrible people who trolled at night to steal animals.

A few volunteers had stuck around to help until around eleven, but people had lives of their own, jobs to go to in the morning.

Sierra shoveled and dumped, shoveled and dumped. They couldn’t afford to lose all that food. Now and then, she had to sift out sticks and stones. Crickets and frogs sang in the otherwise silent night. Even the dogs were exhausted from the excitement.

Unable to take the wordless quiet anymore, she figured even small talk would be better than silence where she was left to wonder what he thought—and where they stood with each other. “Mike, thanks for helping—again.” She didn’t know what they would have done without him tonight. “I’m so sorry you’re having to spend your time off doing crappy things like this for us. You should be partying with your friends, decompressing.”

Her boot sank into a wet spot where their intruder had dumped a water container. The squishy earth clung to her footwear even as she tried to take a step. Yuck.

“This is definitely more productive than searching for different ways to overcome hangovers.” Mike worked methodically, moving a work lamp down the line of fences with him as he patched holes with the never-ending zip tie supply.

“You don’t have to spend all your time here.” She watched him out of the corner of her eyes, taking in the flex of his biceps as he worked with his shirt off. As payoffs went for the overtime, seeing Mike half-dressed was a definite bonus. “My mom’s not going to kick you out if you take time for yourself.”

“Thanks. But I’m a big boy. I’m handling the whole decompression thing my own way. And I won’t be able to enjoy jack shit if I’m worried about your family.”

It occurred to her that he excelled at deflection, always turning the conversation back around to her. Or to anything that wasn’t focused on him.

“What about
your
family?” She could only remember him discussing a father and a grandmother. But where had they been when he got back? “Don’t you want to spend some of this time with them?”

“My grandmother passed away while I was overseas, and my dad . . .” he said tonelessly, shrugging, “I’ll spend a weekend with him before I report in. A little bit of Dad time goes a long way.”

“I’m sorry about your grandmother.” She dropped the trowel and touched his arm, his warm sweat slicking her fingers and tingling her fingertips. “You lived with her for a while, right?”

He moved to the next kennel so her hand fell away, her arm dropping to her side. Was he deliberately shrugging off sympathy to hold back grief, or was he genuinely that over the loss already?

“She brought me up . . . but the relationship wasn’t the same as the sort you have with your family.”

“What do you mean?” she pushed, needing to understand him. She couldn’t deny he was different than before, with new walls that hadn’t totally fallen even after they slept together. He’d hinted that his grandmother hadn’t always fed him and the woman had let him play his guitar in subways. How much more was Mike not telling her?

“My grandmother always found a way to pay the bills, and she sure as hell didn’t let little things like—oh, the law—stand in her way.” His work lamp flickered off and on like the bulb was shorting out.

“How do you mean?” She reached into the supply closet for a stack of clean bowls to replace two in each trashed kennel run. “Come on. You know everything about me, and I’m realizing I don’t know much about you. I never even got to meet your grandmother when we were dating.”

Had he always known they would break up?

“Granny hadn’t planned on bringing up her grandson, but that’s just the way it shook down once my mom cut out.” He paused in his work to tighten the lightbulb in the work lamp before hanging it back on the fence. “Dad deployed often for the extra hazardous duty pay. There still wasn’t really enough to go around. But Granny was . . . resourceful.”

“How so?”

He used a pair of vise grips to bend a ragged chunk of fence to ensure there was no sharp edge that could cut an animal. “She ran short on the rent one month, so she shaved my hair and told the town I had cancer. There were collection buckets all over everywhere. I had a sunburned scalp that summer, but she pulled it off for three months before she got busted.”

Sierra tried not to let her surprise show. No wonder he’d been closemouthed about his grandmother.

“How old were you?”

He bent another jagged bit of metal, overly intent on his task. “Six years old.”

Six? She’d known his mother left, but somehow she’d always assumed he was older than that when it happened. “How was her . . . uh . . .”—scam?—”. . . ruse discovered? Did you tell someone?”

“I knew to keep my mouth shut.” He looked away altogether, weaving a zip tie through the jagged pieces he’d rounded off to close the gap. “She told me we would have to live in the station wagon if I talked.”

Screw walls. They were more to each other than this. She knelt beside him. “Mike, that’s horrible.”

“Yes,” he acknowledged, but without wincing. “My first grade teacher agreed when she figured it out. I didn’t have medicines to take. And I was gaining weight fast. I looked too healthy to her, and she started asking questions.”

“Gaining weight?” she said slowly, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“School lunches fed me more than I got at home.”

Her hand went to her chest, to her heart. “Your grandmother was limiting what you ate in order to make you appear sick?”

“I didn’t starve, but I sure as hell didn’t get seconds or dessert.” He laughed darkly, the joke falling flat. Damn flat. “We left town before she could get arrested. I’m not sure how long the statute of limitations is on that, but we never went back to that state.”

How could she have not known this about him? How could they have dated for so long, been so intimate, and she had no idea how much of himself he’d kept from her—how much she’d let him keep back. “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this when we were together before?”