Page 10 of Last Call at the Doghouse

“He was only here to apologize to me,” she whispered. “He shouldn’t have come back. Was he just… in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why would…”

Now two hands rested on her shoulders. She was tall enough that very few men towered over her. Blocking her exit, standing steady, Duncan did. His hands were heavy and comforting. She shook, but he did not.

She would not take comfort. She would not fall into the trap of thinking she could lean on anyone. Ever.

Again, he leaned in too close. “We need to talk.”

* * *

Mitch hadn’t expected the urge to protect the woman to be so damned strong. Instincts he hadn’t realized could exist within him came to life, overpowering everything else. He wanted distance between them. If not physical distance, then emotional. Sounded like a plan, so why couldn’t he make it happen? Armi was his to protect, even if it meant dying in the process.

He didn’t like it, but there it was. Maybe that was why he’d so diligently avoided her for the past several days. Sacrifice wasn’t in his nature. Or at least, it hadn’t been until now. He didn’t want to be here; he couldn’t leave.

Armi Sherwood was tall for a woman, and she was fit. Not thin, not particularly muscular, but in good shape. She probably had more strength than she realized. Her hair was thick and long, an ordinary brown with one silver streak that waved past the right side of her face. Her eyes were green and sharp. They saw everything, he suspected. When he’d told her they needed to talk, he was almost certain he’d seen a flash of fire.

Literally.

He couldn’t help but wonder if protecting her with his life meant taking her to bed.

God above, he couldn’t afford to get that close to her, not now, not until… well… not.

The sheriff and a couple of his deputies arrived. Three cars pulled into the gravel lot, lights and sirens harsh in the night. Those who’d left the bar and gathered in the parking lot instinctively moved back as the lawmen stepped out of their vehicles.

As much as Mitch wanted to make his way to the front and ask the sheriff a few questions, he didn’t. Had there been other attacks like this one? Did the man realize there were werewolves in his jurisdiction? Instead, he stayed with Armi, watched the people around them, and scanned the woods to the left as well as the long roadway in front of The Doghouse. The abandoned building on the other side of the motel was mostly hidden by trees. Anything and anyone might hide there, but no way was he going to leave Armi in order to check it out.

At the moment he didn’t sense danger to her or to anyone else, body on the ground excluded. He should be able to sense if she was in real trouble, or so he’d been told. After ignoring Armi for days he’d been compelled to put aside all his reservations to come here tonight, and sure enough, she needed him. Not that she’d ever admit such a thing.

He didn’t yet know how sharp his senses would be in a dangerous situation. This upside-down world and the changes it had spurred were as new to him as they were about to be to her. He didn’t like it. She wouldn’t, either.

The back of his neck tingled.

No. Hell no. Not now!

With everything he had, Mitch fought. He pushed that tingle down and out; he promised himself… later. You will not be denied. His vision changed for a moment, everything going black and gray and white. He smelled the blood in the air, the horror of the victim, and the fear of those around the mangled body who wondered what could’ve done this and if they might be next.

When he’d seen the body his initial thought had been werewolf, and maybe that was correct. They were around, he knew that, but they were certainly not alone. Any wild animal, natural or unnatural, might’ve torn Carlton apart.

The warning tingle was gone. The control he’d been working to master wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t nonexistent, either. Mitch breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe… Armi was safe… for now.

* * *

The sheriff and his men had arrived quicker than Armi had anticipated. There wasn’t a lot of excitement out this way, not as far as she could see, but the lawmen were alert and professional. This wasn’t their first rodeo, but she suspected it was their first werewolf attack.

The Milhouses weren’t dangerous, were they? Were shifters like everyone else in the world? Some good, others bad?

If that’s what this was. She only had Duncan’s word that a werewolf had killed Carlton, and what did he know? Good question. What did he know?

Werewolf attack was definitely a possibility. After seeing the body, one young deputy ran to the far side of the building to toss his cookies, while the other seemed to grit his teeth and steel his jaw to tough it out. Even the sheriff, an older man who’d surely seen plenty in his time in law enforcement, went pale. That paleness was obvious, even in the weird blue light from the neon sign that was mixed with the flashing red and blue lights from the patrol cars.

Duncan did his best to keep her from getting too close to what was left of Carlton. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or pissed. Why was he protecting her? He didn’t even know her! His protectiveness was annoying and insulting. And endearing, in a way she was hesitant to admit.

She wasn’t looking for endearing in a man, wasn’t looking for a man at all.

Even from a distance she saw more than enough; more than she wanted to see. It was almost impossible to relate Carlton’s remains with the man she’d just given romantic advice to. All that was left of him was a pile of blood and torn skin, a broken body, a ravaged face. She recognized the scrap of his plaid shirt that wasn’t entirely soaked in blood; the boots he’d worn last time and again tonight.

He’d never make it to the tackle shop, never heal from the pain of his divorce and start again. He’d never have a second chance at love, never drop by to check on her, or grab a beer with his fishing buddies. There were so many nevers…

What had his last sight been? His last thought? Had he known what was coming or had the attack taken him so by surprise that he’d had no idea what was happening? Had he suffered?