Chapter 12
Doug didn't know who this guy was, and right now he wasn't particularly inclined to care. He felt sluggish and tired. He'd long known from other victims of werewolf attacks that 'wolf saliva could nearly immobilize a person. He couldn't say that he was happy about his predicament, but at least he wouldn't change to 'wolf—he hoped. He was still wary of Leigh after being bitten. He'd felt the unchecked fury as she'd blazed through his mind, lacing his thoughts with discontent and pain. She'd ripped through some of his most secret memories with more mockery than…
Than what? Did you expect her to feel sorry for you? Did you even want her sympathy?
Doug stepped forward awkwardly, taking a closer look at the man in front of him. He wanted to disregard the man who was dressed in a plain pair of jeans and a sheepskin jacket. He knew better than to give in to such an urge. His body may have been sluggish but his brain was alive, brimming with activity. He didn't like the man's hawkish features and inquisitive gaze. He had the look of an off-duty cop looking for troublemakers. Doug immediately noticed the slight bulge beneath the folds of the sheepskin jacket. A gun.
He had no clue about a hunting trip but he figured he might as well play along. He felt like he was diving off a cliff. He didn't know what he was playing along with or even if he'd give the right answers. But he also knew, if he didn't answer, he'd be saying a lot more than if he did.
Pretending to ignore the man completely, Doug whirled to look into Leigh's frightened gaze. He wasn't very graceful about it, either. Leigh was going to get it for putting him in this state. But he'd worry about that later. For now, he could use the clumsiness to his advantage. Even his tongue felt heavy and rubbery within his mouth.
"Who'm I?" He slurred. "Who d'you th-think you're? I kin drink if I want!"
He got so close to her that he knew his breath was probably in her face. "I'm ol' enough."
"Okay, Doug," a hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him back a couple stumbling steps. "Get back from the girl. If you cause me any problems I'll have to write you up for public disturbance, understand?"
Doug looked at the policeman with an exaggerated shrug. I'm right, he thought. You are a cop.
"You're hard to find, you know that Mr. Vince?" Doug had a feeling the cop was talking to himself more than he was talking him. The cop's eyes ran over Doug's face with a disdainful glance. Doug did his best not to breathe too much because his breath had a cool, mint taste. If the cop wanted to give him a breathalyzer, then the ruse would be all over. "Very hard to find."
"Bin bushhy," Doug replied. "'shhides, you can' take m'in. I'm not driving."
He elbowed the cop's hand away from his shoulder for effect. Annoyance flashed through the cop's eyes. "Watch yourself, Mr. Vince."
"Detective Tross," Leigh cut in. There was defiance in her eyes, but also a little fear. Doug doubted whether Tross would even pick up the fear. Doug wouldn't have recognized it if he had never been within her mind.
The detective nodded curtly. "You two have an interesting relationship," he said with a disdainful smirk.
"Excuse me?" Leigh replied in a perturbed tone. She didn't seem to catch on as fast as Doug. The detective must have thought they were making out. If he'd seen what happened behind the bushes, he wouldn't have thought so. But the way Leigh had been clinging to him, with her mouth at his throat…he could see how the detective would come to this conclusion.
"You play a little rough," the detective added.
Blood flooded Leigh's cheeks. It was a satisfying sight. Doug had wondered if Leigh could even feel emotions such as embarrassment. She kept everything so tightly locked away. He'd only managed to glean on image from her thoughts when their minds were joined—a little girl in a pink dress covered in hearts. Her long black hair had been tied up into two pigtails and around her lips a cherry sauce was smeared from whatever she had been eating. She hardly looked dangerous at that age.
Leigh opened her mouth to protest, but Doug cut her off.
"Hey, stop buggin' m'girlfriend."
It was better this way. If Leigh denied their relationship, she was leaving a lot of unanswered questions open. Like what exactly had they been doing if they hadn't been making out. This way, the detective remained ignorant.
He took Leigh's hand, caressing it softly. There was a tinge of murder in her gaze as she turned to look at him. But her mind seemed to come to the same conclusion a moment later because she turned to look at the detective with a haughty glare. "My personal business is my own. I can date whomever I want. I'm eighteen."
"Ah, but what would your parents think?" Tross asked, giving Leigh a once over.
Doug was a guy. He knew that look. He moved closer to her, with a formidable expression. A protectiveness rose in him. He momentarily forgot to act drunk and later hoped the detective hadn't noticed. He didn't like the man's attention on Leigh. He was what—forty? It was his duty to protect her. As Jamie's friend, he told himself.
Leigh seemed to resent the way he was standing beside her, almost in front of her. She wasn't exactly helpless, Doug admitted to himself grudgingly. She was a werewolf after all. And Doug could probably beat this guy up easily so there was no telling what Leigh could do to him.
"It's none of your business what my parents would think," Leigh snapped.
The detective raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"
"It isn't." Leigh's hand was trembling slightly within Doug's grasp. Faint emotions were trickling from Leigh, leaving dark traces across his mind. Fear and anger, he surmised immediately. He didn't know how he was reading her thoughts now that they weren't connected. It was something to think about later. Right now he wanted to know what kind of hold Tross had on Leigh. If he had hurt Leigh at all, Doug would pound him through the wall and hang the consequences.
The detective only shrugged with a cryptic smile. "Remember our discussion last week. You know I'm waiting for an answer. I won't wait much longer."
"Discussion?" Doug repeated. Luckily, his tongue was still a rubbery mass within his mouth because he wasn't taking the time to slur his words.
"Now, Doug," Tross replied with a hawkish smile. "You wouldn't want to be prying in police business, would you? This is between Leigh and me."
Doug gave him a dark look. "My girlfriendsh bushnessh ish my bushnessh."
He felt an arm snake around his waste and then Leigh was tugging him away. "Our business will have to wait," Leigh replied. "I still have a week. And I have to walk my boyfriend home. He's not exactly in the state to do it himself."
The detective twiddled his fingers in a goodbye. Doug wanted to take those fingers and snap them until they all broke. Instead, he allowed Leigh to cart him along. He was too tired to resist, anyway.
After they'd moved away a block, Leigh whispered in a vexed tone. "I'll bet he's following us just to find out where you're staying."
Doug nodded his head in acquiescence. It was a struggle just to speak normally. "One step ahead of you."
Leigh gave him a dark look. "You are not."
"I may look like I'm drunk, but my brain's all here."
Leigh didn't dispute this fact. She mentioned softly after a few minutes. "So you're Jamie's brother? No wonder you look so familiar. You have the same eyes."
Doug nodded. "In the flesh."
Her arm remained supportively around his waist. He was glad for it as he took stumbling steps.
"Does she know you're here?"
"No."
"Are you going to let her know?"
"No."
Leigh sent him a glance of disapproval. "She misses you."
"I miss her too," Doug replied.
"Then what's the
problem?"
"My problem is," Doug said, turning to face her.
His voice almost growled out of him, "that she's different now.
And I don't know how well I can handle that."
Leigh snorted, taking offense.
It took them almost and hour to reach Sparkling heights, despite the fact that they were moving in nearly a straight route. Doug was becoming more and more frustrated with his uncooperative limbs.
"Did you have to make me like this?" He complained as they skirted around the light that shone out of Grady's condo. Keeping to the shadows, they edged along until they reached Doug's house.
"I had to bite you and you weren't helping," Leigh replied, helping to push him up the stairs. He grasped the rail with his left hand and helped to heave his body upward.
"I was trying to help you!"
"I didn't know that!" She let out in a breath of exasperation.
She let go of him then, as he fumbled for his keys. She turned to leave without saying goodbye.
"Wait," he said, reaching out his hand to stop her. He dropped his hand before it touched her shoulder. She turned to face him, her arms folded across her chest.
"We need to talk," he said, unlocking the door and pushing it open.
Leigh moved passed him stiffly, her shoulder brushing his. He shut the door behind them. Leigh automatically moved to the gray couch and plopped down into its depths. She stood up again, long enough to move the jeans from beneath her. Doug had draped them there earlier, while changing. Doug took the jeans from her, folding them, and plopped them over the other side of the couch. Out of sight.
He sat down slowly, his legs wobbling unsteadily.
"What do we need to talk about?" Leigh asked her arms still folded across her chest. Doug suddenly realized that she looked a little nervous. He wanted to tell her that she had nothing to fear from him. He would never hurt her. But he had a feeling that it would all come out wrong.
Instead, he said, working around his flopping tongue. "What's this discussion about? Is the detective blackmailing you?"
Leigh looked away stiffly. "I don't want to talk about it."
Working on a sensation he'd gotten from her mind earlier, he said. "I'm going to get it out of you eventually. Even if I have to tickle you."
Leigh gave him a dark look. She hated being tickled.
"It's none of your business."
"My mother's death was none of your business either," Doug replied. "But you still know about that."
Leigh just sent him a stubborn glance.
"Leigh," he nearly growled. "Just tell me."
And surprisingly, she complied. The story all came spilling out in a mess of jumbled sentences. It took Doug a moment to work through what she had said. Her hands were shaking nervously.
Doug took her hands, clasping them between his, just to stop them from shaking. He felt himself getting angrier with ever second. What right did the detective have? Was that even legal?
"So he'll charge you for drug use if you don't tell him who killed the Colonel," he finished for her.
She nodded, slumping into the arm of the couch. She placed her hands to her forehead and took in a long needed breath of air. She'd been talking way too quickly. She took a deep breath but didn't look any calmer for it.
"I just don't know what to do!" she said. "I can't tell the others. I just can't. There's nothing they'd be able to do about it. I don't want them to worry."
Doug kept her cold fingers between his palms, rubbing some warmth into them. His mind was whirring fast. He thought he had an idea. Something that just might work—if he planned it right.
"Could you do me a favor?" he asked.
She looked at him, nodding. The silver in her eyes shone brightly at that moment, almost overtaking the blue. They looked so lost and determined at the same time.
"Will you go out to the woods behind the Carlyle's house tomorrow? About a mile out? Just near the woods edge?"
"I can, but—" she started.
"Then do that. And makes sure that no one's following you."
He quickly told her his plan. She seemed to relax a little as his words rolled over her. A hopeful expression crinkled around her eyes. "Do you think it will work?" she asked.
He nodded. "I hope so. I don't think Tross is as tough as he pretends to be."
Leigh nodded, slowly moving to her feet. "I should go now," she said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind one ear.
He nodded and pulled out his key ring and detached the key to his truck. He placed the key in her long, cool fingers. She gave his a questioning glance.
"Take my truck," he said in response. "You shouldn't walk home alone."
For a moment he thought she might give him one of her feminist retorts, but she didn't. A quick smile played along her lips. Impulsively, she moved forward and hugged him. He moved his arms to hug her back, feeling a little uncomfortable about having her body pressed against his. He wasn't used to shows of gratitude this way.
"Thank you," she said, pulling back. She turned and left.
