Animal Attraction

by Lynn Marie

  But, most importantly, everyone was OK—her and Michael.

  A fresh wave of panic crested over her as she remembered with unsettling accuracy the sight of him falling through the awning. When the breath had gone from his chest, she felt like she’d been hit, too. She couldn’t remember ever being so scared, not even when she’d woken up in a room filled with smoke and fire. Those seconds after his fall—when he wasn’t breathing—had nearly killed her. But his eyes had opened and she’d felt a relief so acute she’d nearly cried then and there.

  The firemen had told her not to go inside the building, and she didn’t want to. She’d just wanted another look. As she turned to leave, she jumped, realizing her path was blocked. It was the pick-a-little ladies, all dressed up with concern and sympathy.

  Maurine Kennedy held out a covered dish. Without preamble, she said, “A fire took my cousin.”

  Evelyn laid her hand over her heart as she took the casserole with her other. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

  “He was a good boy.” Maurine smiled, but her eyes filled with tears. Julia Wilson muttered soothing things, rubbing her friend’s shoulder. The other two were tearing up.

  Eventually, Elizabeth straightened herself with a sniffle. She dabbed the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief. “We’re glad you made it out. Fires… are tragedies.”

  All she could do was nod. “Michael saved me,” she said.

  Maurine’s smile was edged with pride. “We know. We saw.”’

  Good. For whatever reason, it seemed that these ladies were the key to the acceptance in his position that he needed. With a look of gratitude, she lifted the dish. “Thanks for this.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome.”

  They turned to leave and she started heading for Michael’s truck—he’d generously loaned it to her after they discovered that her car had been a casualty of the fire—but stopped. “Ladies?”

  They looked over their shoulders.

  “I hope one of you doesn’t mind if we take over the kitchen in your house. We agreed to start baking the pies next Saturday morning, right?”

  “You sure, honey? We’d understand if you—”

  “Honestly, a distraction would be nice. All my recipes are up here,” she tapped her head. “Might as well put them to use, even if I can’t do it in my own kitchen.”

  Julia’s smile was equal parts tenderness and pride. “Then we can use my kitchen. I’ve got two ovens.”

  Evelyn laughed. “Sounds good.”

  “We’ll see you Saturday, Sweetie.”

  Evelyn set the casserole next to her on the seat as she drove back to Michael’s place. It did look good. She and Michael could have it for dinner while they had a long talk.

  Now that the literal and figurative smoke had cleared, Evelyn had to consider her options. She’d never be able to truly thank Michael for saving her—and he didn’t want her thanks anyway—and what he’d done for her since bordered on too much. He’d taken care of her in a way she hadn’t realized she’d needed. After so long being alone, having someone to lean on had felt so, so nice. But now she had to take control, because she couldn’t be dependent on him. It just wasn’t who she was. He’d probably fight her on this one, but it was too early to live together.

  As she neared his driveway, she noticed the cop car sitting outside. Odd, she thought.

  A man she’d seen at the town meeting sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee. She hadn’t realized at the time that he was the Sheriff, but he’d been one of the few she remembered that seemed to have Michael’s back.

  She eyed Michael, who was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. When he saw her, he immediately crossed the kitchen, took the glass dish from her and kissed her on the top of her head. She smiled up at him.

  “Evelyn, Sheriff Clairmont dropped by to see you.”

  “Afternoon, Sheriff.”

  “Bill, please. And how are you doing, Evelyn? Any hoarseness or trouble breathing?”

  She shook her head. Michael had watched her like a hawk all night, and she had no doubt that if she’d had so much as a sniffle, she’d be in the ER before she could even grab a tissue. “I’m fine.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I assume this visit is about the fire.”

  Bill nodded. He motioned for her to have a seat and her stomach sunk with dread. Good conversations hardly ever began with a police officer telling you to take a seat. Michael pulled out her chair for her and gripped her hand when she sat. She was grateful for the warmth and grounding presence.

  “It is. It didn’t seem like a normal fire—it went up so quickly.”

  Michael reacted immediately, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “You think it was set?”

  Bill glanced over at him, then back to Evelyn. “So I had the investigators go in this morning and they confirmed the presence of accelerants, and they found this.” He set something on the table that had been sealed in a plastic evidence bag. It had been white once, but the smoke and fire had charred and melted it almost beyond recognition. Almost.

  She gasped. “Is that my smoke detector?”

  The wheels slowly began turning as she unwillingly replayed the events from the past night. She’d woken up surrounded by thick, black smoke… but her own coughing had been what woke her. That shrill, ceaseless, annoying beep that was supposed to save her life hadn’t sounded.

  “It didn’t go off,” she said slowly, letting the knowledge sink in.

  Bile rose in her throat. It couldn’t be… But Bill was nodding again. “We found this about two feet from the rubble where the ceiling collapsed. Now, unless you grabbed it out of your ceiling and threw it out the window…”

  Evelyn shook her head gravely.

  Michael pounded his fist on the table. “Fingerprints?” he demanded.

  “Burned off. But considering the accelerant and the premeditated act of disabling the alarm, this isn’t just arson. It’s attempted murder.”

  Evelyn felt all the blood drain from her face. No, no… it couldn’t be…

  “Because of the circumstances, I have to ask you both a few questions.”

  “Both?” she echoed dazedly.

  “It was your place that burned down, Evelyn, but everyone in town knows that you sleep there every night, Mike. So for now I have to assume that the intended victim could have been either one—or both—of you. Do you have any enemies to speak of? Someone with a grudge who might be capable of this kind of thing?”

  Michael was quick to reply, angered. “She just moved here. How could she possibly have any enemies?”

  “Well what about you?”

  “Of course I’ve got enemies. I’m next in line to be Alpha. Other packs, even members within my own pack could want me dead. Brock comes to mind—he’s got the most motive. He’s next in line after me, and he hasn’t been able to defeat me in the ring.”

  Bill nodded and jotted it down. “I’m not sure about that boy. I still have my suspicions about that field fire a couple years back. We never had enough to pin it on him, but everyone knew that spot was where he and his friends snuck off to so they could drink underage.”

  Evelyn shook her head. This was so much worse than she’d thought—how had it gotten so bad in the span of a few months? She had to speak up.

  “I can only think of one person.”

  Michael jerked, surprised, but then his eyes lit with understanding. “Your dad?”

  She nodded, face pale. Remembering Dana’s vision, she licked suddenly dry lips. She really, really needed to have some words with her sister. “He’s been calling and he might be in town.”

  “You think he’d want you dead?”

  Evelyn took in a shaky breath. Her father, a man who was supposed to protect and love her, had possibly tried to kill her. Sure, she’d stopped thinking of him in a fatherly capacity a long time ago, but still. “He’s not well. Drugs… changed him. I have a restraining order out on him after he showed up at my a
partment about a year ago.”

  Bill nodded, jotting it down.

  She hesitated. “But maybe if this was him, he wasn’t trying to kill me. Maybe he just wanted to scare me, or destroy my business. That sounds more like something he’d do. He always was kind of spiteful.”

  Bill looked at her for a long moment. “I’m sorry to hear that. But this is good—I can use this. Can you give me his information?”

  "Alfred Jones, fifty eight years old. We threw away all our pictures of him, but I can give you a description. I don’t know his social.”

  “That won’t be necessary if you’ve got a restraining order. It means he’s in the system. I’ll give his picture to the boys and we’ll send out an APB on him. If he’s lurking around, we’ll bring him in.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. God, the thought of him getting to Dana…

  The sheriff left and Evelyn rose to clean his coffee mug. When Michael returned from seeing the officer out, she felt rather than heard his presence behind her. She closed her eyes and braced herself for what was about to come. Her past was so messy—more than most guys wanted to handle. And even if he was bonded to her in some way, she wouldn’t blame him for thinking less of her for what her father had done.

  “I’m going to call Dana. I’ll be out of your hair in—”

  “No,” he said firmly. “You’re staying here and I’m going to keep teaching you self-defense.”

  She was shocked. “I should stay with my sister.”

  “Stay with me,” he said in a low, an almost plaintive tone. Right when she was about to refuse him, this time even more reticently, he added, “Please. I… ah, I need to know you’re safe. I need you close so I can… yeah.”

  There it was, written on his face. He really did need her close.

  And that just about tore down every single wall she’d ever built. Those walls she’d erected because of that man—her father—who’d betrayed her and her family in the most fundamental way. He was the breaker of every broken part of herself, the reason she was piecing herself together and just now discovering who she was as a woman. He, who’d ruined men for her.

  Or so she’d thought.

  But here was Michael—her father’s antithesis, simply because he… cared.

  “All right,” she said, and couldn’t ignore the feeling like some weight had been lifted. She only worried that he’d taken that weight on himself—he didn’t need that and she didn’t want it for him. “But only for a little bit, okay?”

  They sat in the first row of the town hall building. Michael stood before them at the podium, like so many times before, but without an ounce of apprehension. The faces of the members on the Council of Elders were marked and lined with the trials of life. Time had weathered them differently. Some had skin that was dark, hard and wrinkled by the sun, and some had skin so light it was translucent and looked paper-thin. White hair, gray hair, bald heads. Only age and purpose united this group. But the Council of Elders wasn’t full of senile old wolves—keen eyes followed his movements.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said as a greeting. He stared at those before him—twenty of them, now—with grim determination. They were not an easy bunch, but nor were they impenetrable. He’d called the meeting, unprecedented in his time as pseudo-Alpha, and had actually been a little surprised when every single member had showed. His mother met his eyes with a fierce expression.

  “Last night, someone set a fire that nearly killed my mate. The police have declared it arson.”

  As he looked, he saw them hear, process and react to his declaration. And for the first time, he didn’t give a fuck if they thought he was selfish or entitled, or if they were questioning his intent or motives. This was bigger than them and their disapproval of him. They didn’t have to like him—or her—but they sure as hell had to respect his need for retribution.

  A low murmur rose from the assembly before him and he waited for it to die down before he went on, “They came to my mate’s home, disabled her smoke alarm, poured gasoline and set it on fire. This was premeditated and very nearly successful. I don’t know if she was the intended target or not, but either way I’m considering it a personal attack.”

  A few of the Elders nodded.

  Rage burned under his skin, brushing at the beast. He needed to find this motherfucker. Find and kill. His instincts were in full take-down mode, and his wolf wanted payment in blood.

  “Get on with your request. Why are we all here, son?” old man Sully asked, almost as if to guide Michael to the point.

  “This attack was vicious and unforgiveable. I’m requesting—no, demanding—the right of retribution. If he’s a wolf, I want leave to challenge him to a fight to the death.”

  “The old ways,” Mrs. Parkins breathed, her eyebrows rising. She, and many others, glanced uneasily at Bill Clairmont.

  “Yes. If this person is one of ours I have to make him pay.”

  Michael remained stoic, but anxious as the Elders exchanged looks. He really hoped they didn’t rule against him. If so, he was going to have to break both laws—the law of wolves and the law of men. He really didn’t want to have to do that.

  Ephraim Greer chuckled and everyone turned to look at him. “The boy’s got some fire in him.”

  Bill Clairmont gravely nodded his agreement. “Very well,” he said to Michael. “You can have your retribution. But you know the law—you must be absolutely sure that the person has committed the crimes you speak of, admitted by the accused himself.”

  “I know.”

  “Then request… er, demand granted,” Sully said, his voice heavy with irony.

  As Michael looked around, he noted that many of the council members were smiling with approval, and some even looked impressed.

  Ephraim spoke again. “Michael, we know you need to do this yourself for the crimes done against you and yours, but if you need help, remember we’re here.”

  Michael bowed his head in respect. “Of course. Thank you.”

  As the crowd disbanded, his mother came up to him and hugged him fiercely. “I’m so sorry about what happened to Evelyn. I got together some of my old clothes that she can use until she can get out and buy her own. I put them in your truck. How is she?”

  “She’s okay, I think.” He shook his head, recalling the haunted look in her eyes.

  “You did the right thing, calling the Council.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “It made us old crones feel useful, anyway. It also showed them that you’ve finally got something you really care about here, and that you respect the old ways.”

  Now he was shocked. He’d been acting on instinct, wanting both to share his rage and gain official permission to fight and kill whoever was responsible. Her father was a convenient scapegoat, but Michael wasn’t convinced he was he only one capable.

  “All that? Shit, I should have done this months ago.”

  His mother chuckled.

  “It just seemed like the right thing to do, especially because I get the feeling that one of us is behind it.”

  She glowed with pride. “It was very important to them—to us. And,” she added, becoming grave, “if the time should come that you need to kill one of their grandsons for attempted murder of your mate…” she trailed off and her eyes cut briefly to George Redwood, her uncle by marriage and Brock’s grandfather, “they’ll remember your pledge and theirs. They’ll honor the ritual.”

  Michael nodded as she put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Good luck, Son.”

  Evelyn’s scent reached his nose as soon as he opened the front door and he smiled, inhaling it. It was so clean and feminine. In his mind, it was exactly how a woman should smell. It was tinged with the sour smell of frustration, though.

  She sat at his kitchen table, hunched over a yellow pad of paper, where she was writing a list that looked like it was already pages long. His heart went out to her. Her day couldn’t have been very easy, dealing with insurance.


  “Hey,” he said. He came up behind her, set down the bag of clothes on the seat next to her and laid both hands on her shoulders. He rubbed them, trying to relieve some of her tension.

  She leaned back, into his touch, and her eyes closed. “That feels so good.”

  “How’s everything going?”

  Sighing, she rubbed her eyes. “I’ve been on the phone for hours and I still feel like there’s just so much to be done. I filed a claim with the insurance company. They have to send out someone to take pictures, then surveyors and contractors and I don’t even know who else, but I get the feeling that it’s going to be a while before I’ve got a roof over my head again. They told me to make a list of everything I own.” She laughed mirthlessly. “Make a list of everything I own. Just like that.”

  She stopped, overwhelmed with emotion. Before he could comfort her—assure her that he’d have her as long as she let him—she swallowed and went on. “They also need a statement from the police and the fire department. So then I called the fire department and talked to the chief for a little while. He didn’t have much to say beyond how sorry he was. There’s nothing salvageable from the apartment. I just don’t want to think about any of this anymore,” she said, pushing the legal pad away from her. She swiveled around so she could see him. “You brought me clothes?”

  “From my mother.”

  She smiled. “She won’t mind if I use them?”

  “She’s a helper.”

  “God, that’s so nice. I need to thank her.”

  “You’ll get your chance. She wants us to come over for dinner.”

  Her eyes widened, but she smiled. “Okay. But first, I think we should… go out,” she said, looking down and laughing, “on a date.”

  “A date?”

  “Yeah, you know. Like at a restaurant. We eat, you pay, you’re charming and I’m sassy as you try to get into my pants.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve already been in your pants.”