by Rhyll Biest
‘Kat!’
A glance at Luka’s face, flushed and strained, sent her diving for the kittens once more, her heart threatening to drop right out of her through her watery, shaky knees. He’s going to drop that sucker any second and make ground beef out of you. There was no time for style. She lunged to her knees, grabbed them, two in each fist.
‘Hurry!’
She rolled out of the way into mud, muck and leaves, holding her trophy aloft. ‘Clear.’
Luka dropped the car body and the ground shook as it thudded down, metal sinking deep into the clay. She could only imagine how heavy the thing was. Luka had really Hulked out.
‘Here, give them to me so you can get up.’ He held out a hand covered in rust and blood.
‘Had a tetanus shot lately?’ She handed over a fistful of kitten.
‘Yup.’ He stuffed the kittens down the front of his tucked-in t-shirt, grimaced as one of them bit or scratched, and extended his hand to help her to her feet.
She took it, barely felt the heat and power of his hand or the throb of the centipede bite on her neck, everything peripheral to the sight of him—a big bruiser with two kittens stuffed down his t-shirt like wriggling false boobs.
Breathe, Kat, breathe.
It was like he’d stepped straight out of some Firemen with Kittens calendar designed to make spaghetti out of the insides of straight women and gay men.
‘Did you get them?’ Ruth’s voice.
Kat followed Luka as he pushed his way out of the blackberry, the retreat through the barbed vines even more painful than entry.
Luka’s expression was unimpressed as he eyed Ruth. ‘Do me a favour and don’t mention we were here.’
Ruth snorted. ‘That would be doing myself a favour.’
As Kat tried to take the kitten from her, Ruth turned away. ‘What’ll happen to them now?’
‘We’ll give them intensive care, each one of them will probably need five to six feeds of milk supplement a day. And once they’re a bit older we’ll put them up for adoption.’
‘Can I adopt this one?’ Ruth jiggled the kitten in the crook of her elbow.
Kat blinked but quickly quashed her surprise. She nodded. ‘You might want to foster him first to see if you’re up to the challenge.’
Ruth’s eyes widened. ‘Oh. Did you hear that? A trial date.’ She told the kitten. ‘We were meant to be.’ She lowered him into the cardboard box, her hand lingering.
Luka added his kittens to the box. ‘Let’s go.’ His tone was curt.
Kat could guess why. He wore a fine net of blood and scratches on his face and arms, and bled more profusely from one hand.
She should offer him some first aid. She fished out her car keys.
Once the box was securely fastened in the back of the car she went to her glove box, returned with antiseptic wipes and a tube of Savlon. She waggled it at him. ‘Can I offer you some cetrimide and chlorhexidine gluconate antiseptic?’
He nodded. ‘Thanks.’ He cleaned up his hand and was in the middle of smearing it over his scratches when he paused. ‘Did something bite you while you were under the car?’
‘Centipede. On the back of my neck.’ It was going to be a bitch to sleep on.
‘Give me a look.’
At the offer, and the thought of his fingers on her nape, her heart bucked. ‘I can manage.’ It was true, she always managed.
Liar. Galenka strutted in her cage, preened. You never manage. You suck at manage. I am she who manage.
Kat took the Savlon from him and smeared a dollop on her nape. See, bitch, I managed.
But if she thought she’d warded off Luka she was wrong. A hand landed on her shoulder, light but unshakable, and her ponytail was lifted. A blunt finger grazed her nape. ‘Looks painful.’
She winced, not because of the bite but at the storm of sensation his touch unleashed. Christ, it was just a freaking hand on her neck. ‘Not as painful as having half a ton of car dropped on me.’
‘It was the least I could do, not crush you like a bug.’ He gave her ponytail a tug before letting it go.
‘I guess I’ll see you later.’ Why did saying goodbye feel so awkward? Because of everything left unsaid? Thanks for lifting a car, thanks for getting the shit scratched out of you by blackberry, thanks for cutting up your hands on a rusting car body. Thanks for the great sex last night.
She offered him the tube. ‘Maybe you should hang on to this.’
He took it. ‘I’m not done with you, though. Lunch?’ He raised his brows, the polite question at odds with the dark tone in his voice.
***
If she thought he was going to just let it slide that she’d gone to Grinder’s on her own, she was delusional.
No wonder he had nightmares, she was playing accessory to her own murder.
Plus, she’d disappeared on him after explosive sex and that bothered him far more than his ragged cut and the scratches from blackberry thorns.
He wanted far more than a one-night stand.
He wanted … well, he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted, just something more. But he wasn’t going to have any relationship of any kind with her if she got herself killed.
Seeing her covered in red welts and blood from blackberry scratches had given him a very bad moment, as had the dark, sump-filled puddle by her feet.
And then there’d been that fucking cap she’d worn like she wanted to disembowel him. As for going to Grinder’s …
What did he have to say to make her realise that Grinder and his associates didn’t speak English? They spoke the language of crushed bones, severed arteries, beatings and bullet wounds. Even Grinder’s daughter, though not a biker, was trouble. She’d burned down a building or two in her time, all before the age of seventeen, and now her juvie record was tucked away where it could do her no harm. Luka had no idea why she chose to stay in Walgarra and work for her father, other than abuse sometimes made the heart grow fonder.
‘You want to have lunch?’ Kat’s tone was wary.
‘Yes, so we can talk.’
‘About what?’ She itched at a bleeding scratch.
‘You know what.’
Silence. She glanced at the back of her car. ‘I need to take these kittens to base.’
Okay, so that was how she was going to play it. Not ideal but he’d take it. ‘I’ll see you there then.’
When she turned to go, he caught her by the elbow. Her gaze met his for a second, ice-pick sharp and hostile, her eyes three shades darker green than the faint bruise on her cheekbone from her ‘fall’.
Careful, that look said. Careful.
It hurt more than a thousand blackberry bushes to know what made her give him that look.
He said what he had to say anyway. ‘It won’t make a difference how many animals you rescue, you know.’
She froze up on him. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have to go.’
Shit, she refused to be pinned. Talk about the queen of avoidance. She also had to be the bravest woman he’d ever met—and the stubbornest.
All through the dreary drive to the shelter he pondered her contradictory nature. What the hell did he have to do to convince her that he was serious on the subject of Walgarra’s ice-dealing bikers? Warnings had proved useless. He’d equipped her with a few de-escalation techniques that probably wouldn’t get her that far. What was left?
He had to do something.
Parking his car next to hers at the RSPCA shelter, he once more cursed the lack of shade in the car park. The worst part about it was that it had been his idea to remove all trees and bushes to help with their burglary problem.
He trailed her inside the shelter, waited at reception while she did her thing. Beth greeted him, along with—goddamn it—Sharon.
‘Luka.’ Voice breathy, her lipstick matched her snug t-shirt. The look she gave him over her knitting needles was as heavy and cloying as the antiseptic air of the waiting room.
His day just got better and better
.
‘Sharon.’ Why had he gone out with her, again? Oh, that’s right, because he’d discovered Mark’s cheating, had got shit-faced in the time-honoured male way of handling an emotional crisis, and woken up in bed with her. And had then felt bad for using her. Even worse when she’d introduced him to her kids. He hadn’t just taken advantage of a woman, but a single mother. He deserved to be shot, but instead it was Mark who’d been shot.
He smiled because he had to. There was no retreat. ‘How have you been?’
‘Oh, fine, just fine. The kids ask about you.’
Sucker-punched. ‘That’s great, say hi for me.’
‘I will.’
‘What are you making?’ He nodded at her knitting needles which worked away as they spoke.
‘Joey pouches. Feel this yarn, it’s so soft.’
Faster than he could handcuff a suspect, she’d run her ball of yarn down his throat, trailed it suggestively down his shirt.
He blinked, but there was nothing he could say, not in a reception room full of pets and owners, half of the latter now fiddling with their hearing aids so they didn’t miss anything.
Even Beth looked uncomfortable, more so when Kat appeared and took in the way Sharon was leaning towards him. Thank Christ she was no longer caressing him with yarn.
‘If you’re not too busy—’ her voice was tight, ‘—we can talk in the tea room.’
Why was she wearing the cap again? It was killing him.
‘Works for me.’ He caught up with her as she turned on her heel and punched the code into the door leading to the staff part of the building.
She glanced at him, eyes harder than the cinderblock walls they passed. Really, she should just let him have it with both barrels over Sharon and then move on.
As soon as they reached the tea room she moved to the sink. ‘Coffee?’
‘Forget about that.’ He pulled out a chair for her at the Formica table. ‘Sit with me.’
Her eyes narrowed. Maybe he’d phrased it too much like an order. ‘Please.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I have something to tell you.’ He patted the seat next to his.
Her expression remained stony as she sat.
‘I’m not the sort of guy who dates a lot or who chases tail at every opportunity.’
She raised her brows. ‘I’ll have to take your word for that.’
Shit. She was all pissy with him. ‘You don’t have to. Ask Stace or Nick. But I like you. Well, more than like.’
Her gaze slid away from his. ‘Really? I didn’t notice.’
Her snarky comment dragged a smile from him before—unable to help himself—he pulled the cap off her head and tossed it across the room. That was better.
‘Hey!’
He took her hand. ‘This isn’t about just sex. You’re smart and funny, and you do that thing with your ponytail when you’re uncertain that’s as hot as it is adorable.’
Her eyes widened.
‘And I want more. I want to know everything about you, shag you six ways to Sunday, and hold your hand and take you to dinner and all of that.’
The kitchen clock ticked as she stared at him. ‘But? I sense a ‘but’ coming.’
‘I admire dedication, whether it’s to a person, a cause or a career.’ He gripped her hand tighter. ‘But you display a level of recklessness when it comes to your job that terrifies me.’ He kept his voice steady but she recoiled at the furnace of fear burning through his words, yanked her hand free.
‘Recklessness? If I were a guy you’d put it down to ballsiness and buy me a beer.’
His eyes went to the blackberry scratches covering her arms. ‘No, you’re way beyond ballsy. You’re driven, by what I’m not sure. I honestly think you’d storm a machine-gun nest if you thought it would save an injured puppy.’
Her face tightened. ‘Okay, well, that sounds a bit overdramatic but let’s say I’m reckless. What does that really have to do with you since you’re not my employer?’
He closed his eyes, braced himself. ‘I dream about you. Sometimes the dream starts out different but it always ends the same—you’re hurt beyond help. I’ve seen you crash your car a dozen times. Half the town has found an excuse to shoot you. You’ve been bitten by dogs the size of ponies. Fallen off cliffs. Been drowned, choked, stabbed. Sometimes all of those things in one night. Lately, when I go to sleep, it’s to watch you die.’
Tick, tick, tick. Only the kitchen clock spoke.
He opened his eyes to find her studying him, her brows drawn together. ‘You do look like you’re bad at sleeping.’
She was deliberately ignoring the most important bit, that his nightmares were all about her. ‘Kat.’
‘Look, I have bad dreams too sometimes. But do you know what always cheers me up?’
He had a feeling he knew what came next. ‘No, what?’
‘Stopping animal abuse.’
A long, whistling, pissed-off breath escaped him. ‘I’m not telling you this so you can feel sorry for me. And I’m done trying to tell you what to do, since that doesn’t go down well either.’
She grimaced. ‘So why are you telling me?’
‘Because I want you to understand why we can’t be anything more than friends.’
Anyone else might have missed it, the half-second flash of deep hurt that crumpled her face. Then it was gone, a hard, bright mask erasing it, making one doubt it had ever been there in the first place.
‘That’s fine, you do what you have to do. I’ll do the same.’ She stood, the metal feet of her chair squealing in protest.
‘Kat, do you hear what I’m saying to you? I want to be with you but you’re going to get yourself killed.’
‘I’m not afraid.’
‘I am—for you.’ He reached for her. ‘And if you won’t protect yourself, I’ll do it for you.’
***
She jerked her hand away to keep him from taking it. Her every nerve was shrieking with alarm. How dare he lay all this on her? ‘What does that mean?’
He didn’t answer and a dozen unwelcome possibilities presented themselves, that he might arrest her or have her fired.
How could she have been so stupid? She’d known all along that the closer he got to her the more control it allowed him. So it was no one’s fault but her own that his words hit her like a speeding car, left her shattered and woozy as a struck cat.
‘If I question Grinder it might make him think harder about whether Walgarra is the place for him.’ He said it with quiet resolve.
What about his earlier determination not to escalate tensions in Walgarra? His change of heart didn’t please her at all. She didn’t want him doing things for her. ‘I don’t have time for this, I have ten more cases to get through today.’ She approached her cap, still lying where he’d hurled it. As she bent to pick up the cap, the ring on her necklace dropping out from beneath her shirt to bop her on the chin.
When she straightened to say goodbye, Luka’s gaze went from the cap in her hand to the ring on her necklace. The colour bled from his face, leaving it as grey as his eyes. For a moment she thought he might pass out.
Sharp, broken things poked around her insides until she wanted to scream.
‘I’ll leave you alone then.’ He stood.
His tone was so hard, so bitter, it seemed safest to keep her mouth shut. She’d put the necklace on this morning because she wanted the comfort of something familiar, but she wasn’t going to explain that to him. Love was an invasive species she needed to quarantine.
She unlocked the door and held it open for him. Usually it was the other way around, him holding doors open for her. As he passed she spotted something. Yarn. Tiny threads of brightly coloured yarn stuck to his shirt. The same colour yarn Sharon had been working on at reception, the ball of it surrounded by framed photographs of her pre-school aged daughters.
How had the yarn transferred itself onto Luka? Through a hug? A kiss?
Nausea swooped, left her sicker tha
n a freshly wormed dog.
She let the door swing shut behind Luka and staggered, zombie-like, to the sink. Leaning on it she filled a cup with water and drank it on autopilot. What she should do was get back in her car and go back to work but she needed a moment. Just a moment.
Two mouthfuls, that was all she got before Sharon was in her face.
‘Hey, Kat.’
The receptionist’s voice was deadly sweet, a perfect match for the toxic smile she wore on her matte red lips.
Kat did not know how the woman acquired and maintained rockabilly glam in a town the size of Walgarra. ‘Hey.’ Even to her own ears she sounded flatter than road kill.
‘I’m so happy,’ Sharon chirped. ‘Luka just asked me out to dinner.’
I want you to understand why we can’t be anything more than friends.
‘That’s great.’
‘Are you okay? You look … upset.’
Kat locked eyes with the receptionist and Galenka clawed her way to the surface. ‘Sharon, do not piss me off or I will eat your young.’
The perfectly applied eyeliner Sharon used to achieve the ‘cat eyes’ look disappeared as her eyes widened. ‘What … what did you say?’
‘You heard me.’ With that she stalked off. As a victory, however, it was more hollow than a doughnut (which she never ate because someone had once told her that hospital CT scanners were called doughnuts of death).
What she would rather have than the last word was the ability to erase the past two hours. If life came with an erase button she’d be hitting that sucker right now, because she’d been screamingly stupid, and all the stupid presently sat in her belly like a big old bag of rocks. Her first mistake had been showing her face at Grinder’s like that when she knew that stealth was essential to take down an enemy. Had her parents taught her nothing? And Luka didn’t know her well at all if he thought she’d gone to Grinder’s to confront the man. No, Luka had no idea just how sneaky and awful she was because confrontation was not part of her strategy. As she walked to her car, her vision blurred, shame reducing the surrounds to a muddy haze.