A Touch of the Beast. Linda Winstead Jones
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Wyatt was a small community, smaller even than Greenlaurel. It boasted a town square, complete with courthouse, sheriff’s auxiliary office and local police department. The square was completed with shops necessary for a small town to survive. Maybe they picked up some of the tourist traffic that ventured off the interstate. There were a couple of antique shops, a candy shop, two small restaurants, a bookstore and other assorted businesses. All around town, signs advertising Wyatt’s autumn festival were posted. This weekend. With any luck, he’d be long gone by then.
Two turns off the main square, he found Pine Street. There it was, 204. The freshly painted sign out front read Eldanis Veterinary Clinic. Hawk parked his truck at the curb and reached over to run his fingers through Baby’s fur. She whined, as if she knew what awaited her here.
“We’re just visiting,” Hawk said as he left the truck. Baby came with him, though not as enthusiastically as usual. “No shots, I promise.”
Baby perked up considerably, and they walked into the clinic side by side. Down the hallway that led to individual rooms, a thin teenage boy with spiked hair was pushing a broom. Curious, the kid glanced toward the lobby, checking out both Hawk and Baby as he continued with his chore.
A woman stood at the counter with her head down, a phone in one hand, a pen in the other, as she made note of an appointment. She said something pleasant to the person on the other end of the phone and smiled as she lifted her head to see who had arrived.
Sleek, dark-blond hair had been pulled back into a long ponytail, and intense blue eyes sparkled when they landed on him. Pretty girl. Very pretty. Hawk had to remind himself that he wasn’t here to admire the scenery; he didn’t have the time. Still, he had to admit that she had a nice wide mouth and a genuine smile…and man, were those eyes blue.
The smile was wider and more real for Baby than it was for him, even at the end of the day. According to the hours on the sign at the entrance, the place would be closing in five minutes.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked as she walked around the counter. She wore a long white smock that disguised her figure. Beneath her smock baggy trousers hung loosely around her legs. Her shoes were of the sensible sort.
Could she help him? It would be a whole lot easier to figure that out if he knew what he was looking for. “I guess I need to speak to Eldanis.”
“I’m Sheryl Eldanis,” she said, her smile fading slightly. “What can I do for you?”
Sheryl Eldanis was definitely the cutest vet he’d ever laid eyes on, shapeless clothes and all. And he’d known his share of vets. “I’m not really sure,” Hawk admitted. It didn’t really matter what she looked like. He needed answers, and if she was the one who had them, he didn’t care how pretty she was.
“I’m looking for information. Have you been in this location very long?” She was much too young to have been here more than a couple of years at most. “What I’m looking for is probably going to go back several years. I’m not even sure what it might be, exactly. Some information from past activities in this building, I imagine.”
All pretense of friendliness disappeared. The smile vanished, the blue eyes went hard. Her stance changed, as she became defensive, and the muscles in her body tightened. “What are you?” she asked sharply. “The second team? I don’t go for the fake building inspector, so two days later they send in an aw-shucks cowboy to charm the files out of me?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She lifted a finger and wagged it at him. “You can tell your friend that I called the police after he disappeared. It only took one phone call to find out that there isn’t any Tony Carpenter. There isn’t even a Department of Structural Safety!” Eldanis stepped behind the counter and lifted the phone, dialing with anger and precision. “Let’s cut out the middle man this time around. You can talk directly to the chief of police.
“Sandy?” she said into the phone.
Hawk glanced down at the gray cat that had begun to weave between his legs. In and out, around and around, that long tail twitching and twining. He smiled and reached down to snag the friendly feline with one large hand. He felt her deep purr in his palm as he said hello.
“Hey!” Eldanis called, moving the phone away from her head so she wasn’t shouting into the receiver. “Laverne doesn’t like—”
She stopped speaking when the cat in question purred and wound its way around Hawk’s neck to settle comfortably on his shoulder. The long tail twitched and wound around his head.
“Never mind, Sandy,” Eldanis said in a calmer tone of voice. “False alarm. I’ll call you later if I need help with anything.” After she ended the call, she leaned onto the counter and studied not Hawk’s face, but the way her cat had made a home on his shoulder. She didn’t relax all at once, but gradually her distrust of him faded. A little. Maybe a trace of the smile crept back, and her expressive eyes definitely changed.
“Laverne seems to like you,” she said. “That buys you three minutes to explain yourself. I suggest you make the best of it.”
Sheryl stayed close to the phone. In fact, she kept one hand on the receiver, just in case. She was absolutely stunned by Laverne’s reaction to the man in the waiting room, and she couldn’t ignore what she saw. The stubborn cat never cuddled up to anyone, and yet she had definitely made herself comfortable on the stranger’s wide shoulders.
“My name’s Hawk Donovan,” the man said simply. “If you want to call the police, go right ahead. I don’t have anything to hide.”
That was a good sign, Sheryl decided. She relaxed a little bit. “What do you want?”
“I’m not sure,” Donovan said. “You mentioned files. What kind of files?”
Was it possible that her two visitors were not connected? Possible. Not likely. And she still didn’t trust this man—or any other. She especially didn’t trust men who looked like this one. He was too pushy. Too big. And he had a fascinating face that suggested women had been doing whatever he asked of them all his life.
She didn’t allow herself to be pushed around, not anymore, and no one told her what to do. Especially not men. “Don’t try to turn this around on me. Why are you here?”
He didn’t answer. At least, not immediately. Hawk Donovan, if that was indeed his name, was not at all bad looking. Not at all. He had the required iron jaw, and the hard body and the way of moving that came from being in the kind of physical shape most men simply dreamed of. There was something sleek about Donovan, in the way he walked, in the way he moved his head. He reminded her of a caged animal. Beautiful, fascinating, but also dangerous and unpredictable.
Big men could be aggressive, so for a moment she ignored the fact that he was over six feet tall and wide in the shoulders. His hands were big, too, and they were definitely a working man’s hands, weathered and scarred.
His dark hair might’ve been conservatively cut a while back, but was growing out just a tad on the shaggy side, untended and thick. Those eyes set above killer cheekbones were deep and dark and warm. His face would be like granite, if not for the unexpected and subtle dimple in his chin. Well-worn jeans hugged muscled thighs, and the shirt he wore was a plain and sturdy denim. The boots were leather, expensive and had seen better days. There was no cowboy hat in sight, at least not today, but she’d bet her last dollar that he had one at home.
“My sister is sick,” he said in a lowered voice. “The doctors are having a problem coming up with answers for us. Since we were adopted as infants, we don’t have any family medical history available.” The dog who’d arrived with Donovan sat at his side. Laverne continued to rest on his shoulder, and instead of dismissing the cat, as many men would have, Donovan seemed to have forgotten she was there.
“Don’t tell me,” Sheryl said sternly, not at all convinced by his supposedly tender words or swayed by the fact that he was mouthwateringly studly and intriguingly different