Acceptance

by Grace R. Duncan

  He ran until his muscles ached, until his stomach growled, until he couldn’t run anymore. Then he ran some more. He let instinct find prey, let it guide him to the fight. But he savored the kill and the meat and the blood. He ate voraciously, thrilling in the satisfaction of such a basic, primal need.

  But when he finished, when he’d cleaned himself and settled in a tree to rest, the other thing his cat wanted brought his humanity back to the surface. He laid his head on his paws, tail twitching, trying not to let himself think. But the image of a beautiful red wolf danced in his mind, and the human side of that wolf, smiling at him, whispering words Quincy thought he’d never hear—had thought, for so long, he didn’t want to hear.

  He’d been so wrong.

  The pictures bothered him. Now, with the fury at his father cleared from his mind, he realized there was more to them than he’d wanted to believe, and he knew what he needed to focus on next. Regardless of whether those pictures were recent or not, they were clearly a threat. Leaving Miles hadn’t worked—at least, not as he’d hoped. He’d bet the Three Ds split up, but that still left one—probably Dumber—too close to Quincy’s mate for his peace of mind.

  He stood and stretched, then leapt lightly from the tree. He looked up at the moon to see he’d been gone far longer than he’d hoped. He’d go back, get some sleep, and decide the rest in the morning.

  WHEN QUINCY stepped through the door a short time later, intending to go straight for the stairs, he was surprised when Mr. Timmons called to him. “I thought you’d be in bed,” Quincy said as he crossed the room.

  Mr. Timmons smiled. “Sometimes I don’t sleep. It’s part of that old-man thing.”

  Quincy couldn’t help but laugh. “So… was there something I could help you with?”

  “Oh, right. This was in the door this evening. I’m not sure how it got there, but….” He held out a small manila envelope.

  Quincy took it, frowning at the Niles Perry on the front. He glanced at the clock, but it was barely after midnight. That was awfully fast. He’d worry about that later. He flipped it over, opened it, and tipped out a picture.

  Another of Miles.

  It took a moment for Quincy to realize what was special about that one. Miles was in the Presby waiting room, talking to someone. Behind him, the television up on the wall was showing a news channel. And right there, clear as day, was the picture of some celebrity Quincy wasn’t familiar with and the news of his death.

  That had only happened this morning.

  Fuck.

  The blood drained from his face, and his heart started pounding. Quincy forced himself to calm down, peering closer at the photo. Could it have been fixed? Photoshopped maybe?

  But the artist in him knew immediately it wasn’t. It was real, and that meant those bastards really were watching Miles.

  Quincy flipped the photo over to see a simple line:

  That little phone call is going to cost you.

  His face went pale. Oh shit.

  “Um…. It appears I’ll be checking out in the morning. I’m sorry. Please, keep the payment I’ve already given.” With that Quincy bolted for the stairs and went up them two at a time. If he hadn’t been worried about freaking out the human, he might have even leapt farther.

  He tore into the room and snatched up his phone, waiting impatiently for it to start up. His shaking hands made dialing impossible. It took Quincy a full count of sixty before he could calm down enough to dial. Please be there. Please be there. Please answer.

  Except, of course, Miles’s phone went straight to voice mail.

  Quincy sat hard on the side of the bed. Okay, it didn’t mean anything yet. He could be treating a patient—hell, he could be performing surgery. There were a billion reasons why Miles might not answer his phone. He could be in wolf form, for that matter.

  Taking a deep breath, Quincy brought up his contacts and hit a different number.

  That one picked up on the second ring. “Q?”

  “Oh thank Bastet,” he whispered. “Chad, I need a favor.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Quincy swallowed. “They’re watching him. I got a picture from today, Chad. In the ER. And a warning.”

  “Fuck. I’m still not sure how well I can handle the city, Q.”

  “Chad… I wouldn’t ask but—”

  “No, I get it. I would if it was Jamie. All right. I’ll deal with it. Where is he now?”

  Quincy appreciated the shift in tone of voice. Chad was all cop—or former cop—now. “I don’t know. He didn’t answer his phone, but he could just be in the hospital somewhere.”

  “I’ll find out. Jamie and I will go as soon as we get dressed.”

  Quincy managed a snort. “I didn’t need that mental picture.”

  “Jeans, Q. For the love of Diana.”

  Quincy buried the hysterical giggle with effort. “I’ll be on my way home in a few. It’s going to take me about four hours, though.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Outside DC. Just… find him. And call me when you do.”

  “We will.”

  He kept his voice steady for a little longer. “Thank you, Chad. See you soon.”

  Chapter 6

  MILES FROWNED at the computer screen as he tried to read the blood test results from the lab. His eyes were swimming, and when he glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen, he grunted. No wonder he couldn’t see. He’d been working for twelve hours straight so far.

  “Dr. Grant?”

  Miles looked up, grateful for the interruption. “Ah, Lainey, what do you need?”

  One of the new residents sighed. “It’s Mrs. Henderson again.” She shook her head, her black hair flying around her face. She batted at it. “Same stuff, different day.”

  Miles chuckled. “She comes in at least twice a week. Run some blood tests—just to be sure—then tell her she’s got nasopharyngitis, give her a ’scrip for ibuprofen, and send her home.”

  Lainey blinked. “You want me to tell her she’s got the common cold?”

  With a smirk Miles nodded. “Yes, but make sure you use the nasopharyngitis. I used rhinopharyngitis last week. You could also try coryza as well. I haven’t used that one in a while.”

  She laughed. “Well, okay, then.”

  “She’s just a lonely old lady. You’ll do more for her if you just talk to her for a few minutes.”

  Lainey nodded. “I gotcha.”

  Miles’s phone went off and he sighed. It’d been buzzing on and off for a while. He looked down and saw it was a text from Jamie.

  911. Answer your phone, dork.

  Miles blinked but looked over at Lainey. “I gotta take this. Dr. Davidson is on in a few minutes if you need something.”

  “Thanks,” she said and hurried away.

  Miles hit the button for Jamie’s contact.

  “About damned time.”

  “Impatient much?” Miles asked.

  Jamie snorted. “Been trying for almost an hour. Quincy called. You’ve been targeted.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That’s about the extent of it. Chad and I are on our way in. Stay in the emergency room.”

  “I will.” Miles sighed. “What then?”

  “We’re thinking pack lands.”

  Miles frowned. “Probably best. I’ll go talk to my chief… shit. It’s two. I’ll leave a voice mail. Where are you now?”

  “Parkway East. Not far,” Chad said.

  “Got it. I’ll be ready.”

  Jamie hung up, and Miles took a moment to close his eyes and let out a breath. He’d known it was a possibility. He just hoped Quincy was all right. He rubbed his face hard, then pulled up his messages and typed out a fast one to his mate. C & J picking me up in a few. Love you.

  The reply was almost immediate. Thank Bastet. See you soon. Love you.

  With relief at seeing Quincy’s reply, he hurried to get ready to go.

  “I’M GUESSING you’re going to need some s
tuff from your place?” Chad asked as Miles met him at the door.

  “Yeah. All I’ve got right now are scrubs.”

  Chad grinned. “And I’m sure you’re sick of them by now.”

  Miles shrugged. “I wear them so much I don’t even notice anymore.”

  Jamie was behind the wheel of the Challenger, and Miles climbed into the back seat. “Hi! Glad you’re okay. You worried us there for a bit.”

  “Yeah, well, couldn’t be helped. Hell night tonight.”

  “Do you need to stay?” Chad asked.

  Miles shook his head. “No. There are two here and the chief has someone else coming. It’s fine.”

  “Good. Because the city’s making me nuts already.”

  Jamie laughed. “You should have seen his face when he opened the car door.”

  Miles grinned. “Yeah, I can believe it. Okay, turn right onto Lothrop, then right onto Terrace and go around. We want O’Hara.”

  “Got it,” Jamie said, starting the car.

  Miles closed his eyes and laid his head back against the seat. He tried to remember the last time he took a day off and realized it was when Quincy was still there, almost a week ago. He’d had a few hours here and there, but nothing more.

  “Hey, no falling asleep yet,” Chad said, poking him. “Not till we get to your apartment and on the way back to pack lands.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Might need coffee for that.”

  Jamie snorted. “More like a Red Bull.”

  “That shit’s nasty,” Miles said, wrinkling his nose.

  “I can’t believe coffee does anything for you by this point.”

  Miles didn’t answer, and Jamie and Chad both laughed. “Follow Bigelow to Bayard, then almost to the end. Amberson is on the left.”

  “’Kay.”

  In only another couple of minutes, Jamie made the turn onto Amberson and followed it to the entrance.

  “Parking’s around back. Here,” Miles said, handing over the key fob that unlocked the lot gate. He directed Jamie to a spot near the door he used, and finally they climbed out.

  He was surprised when they got to his door that Chad pulled out his weapon. He held a finger up to his lips and took the key from Miles. Miles didn’t argue. Chad’s experience as a cop wasn’t something Miles was going to get in the way of. He stepped back and let Chad work.

  Miles didn’t even hear the lock click. As soon as the door opened, Chad held his hand out in a wait gesture. Miles looked over at Jamie, surprised to see a gun in Jamie’s hand too. Chad held his weapon up in front of him, then pushed the door open as he checked the hall. He glanced back, did the wait gesture again, then slipped into the apartment while Jamie watched the hallway both ways.

  Miles guessed Chad said something over the telepathic link he had to Jamie, because with no other signal, Jamie said, “All clear.”

  They went in, and Miles busied himself with grabbing a bag and packing his clothes. He made sure to get his toiletries and a few other things and was about to go when he realized he should take his computer.

  “Hey, you want to take this stuff out? I’ll be right behind you. I forgot my computer. Take me two minutes.”

  Jamie took the clothing bag. “Sure. I’ll get the car started.”

  Chad took the second bag with toiletries and the like, and Miles headed back upstairs to get his backpack.

  Just as he cleared the spiral staircase, something solid and heavy caught him on the spine, knocking him forward onto his face. He hit the wood floor hard, blood spurting from his nose. He tried to roll, only to get another hit on his shoulder and a third to the side of his head. The fuck was that? This time he managed to roll in time to see the bat come down on his right leg. In a sort of detached way, he heard the bones crunch and thought, Well, fuck, that’s going to hurt when it heals.

  He looked up, took a deep sniff, and realized the jaguars had found him anyway. Not that he doubted it, but that confirmed it. He cursed himself for forgetting the other door. His loft had two floors, but only a spiral staircase leading to the second, so there was a normally locked back door on the second floor for moving in furniture and the like, which he’d forgotten about.

  Chad’s going to blame himself for this. Miles pushed the thought away and tried to get up on his good leg, but that fucking bat stopped the possibility cold. “Okay, fuck you,” Miles growled, ready to call on his wolf.

  Before he could manage it, the bat came down one more time. Miles tried to dodge, thinking, Quincy’s going to be so pissed.

  Then everything went black.

  HE WOKE to pain and disorientation. He had no idea where he was or why everything fucking hurt. It took him a while to probe his mind to find the memories.

  Oh right. Jaguar. Fuck.

  He pried his eyes open, then slammed them closed again when the light in the room pierced his skull. He was pretty sure his head was about to explode. Or split in two. Or something. Never mind it wasn’t physically possible, Miles threw science and medicine out the window for the moment and decided the pain was more accurate.

  Okay. Okay. You can do this.

  Miles took a breath and opened his eyes again, this time only a slit. He saw figures standing around a room he didn’t readily recognize, but he couldn’t make them out right away.

  “Light,” he croaked, annoyed at the rough sound of his voice.

  There was a click, and Miles widened his visual range a little more. Without the light killing him, he could clear his vision enough to recognize Tanner, Finley, Chad, and Jamie. Chad sat in a corner chair, face buried in his hands, Jamie sitting next to him with a hand on his back. Finley had a chair up against the bed Miles was lying on, and Tanner had another chair on the other side.

  “Oh good,” Finley said, relief obvious. “We were beginning to worry.”

  Miles tried to clear his throat, but it hurt too much. He didn’t remember getting hit in the throat, but then again he didn’t remember anything after recognizing that it was a jaguar after him.

  “Don’t try to talk yet. You took some real damage to your neck and throat,” Tanner said, drawing his attention. “You’ll heal, but take it easy for a while.”

  Miles blinked at him, then gave an almost imperceptible nod. He queried the rest of his body to try to figure out how much damage he’d taken. Without X-rays, he couldn’t know for sure, but he thought both legs were broken in more than one place, and possibly several ribs. His hands hurt, and a glance down told him at least a few of his fingers had been broken. And then, of course, there was his throat and head.

  He’d taken a hell of a beating, apparently.

  “Chad,” he whispered, trying to get his friend’s attention.

  Chad looked up, then came over to the bed. “Hey, glad you’re awake. You gonna make it, man?”

  “Can’t kill me that easily,” Miles whispered in reply.

  Chad snorted. “I wouldn’t call that easily.”

  Miles started to shake his head, but when his brain banged against his skull, thought better of it. “Cat?”

  “Gone,” Jamie said. “We can talk more when you’re better. What can we give you for that throat?”

  Miles thought about it for a moment. “Warm weak tea. Honey. Lemon.”

  “Done. Back in a minute,” Finley said, jumping up.

  Miles closed his eyes and tried to stay still so it didn’t hurt any more than it had to. He’d heal, but it would be slow going until he could shift. Right now his wolf wasn’t even remotely interested in making an appearance. He was exhausted, trying to heal them.

  “Not your fault, Chad,” Miles whispered, opening his eyes again.

  Chad frowned. “How’d you know what I was thinking?”

  Miles didn’t speak, simply raised an eyebrow. That hurt, but he let it communicate his opinion.

  Jamie smirked. “Told ya. He’s smart.”

  “Duh. Don’t get to be a doctor without it.” Chad shook his head. “Apparently not that smart if he said that, though.�
�

  Jamie smacked him in the back of the head.

  “Ow! What the fuck was that for?”

  “Being an idiot,” Miles whispered. “My fault. Forgot a second door.”

  Chad blinked at him. “There was another door?”

  “Upstairs. Locked, hidden. For moving in.”

  “Fuck, how did I miss that?” He frowned. “It was in the back of the closet, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Miles said, then sighed when Finley came in with a cup and a straw.

  “Can’t hold this yet,” he said at Miles’s expression. “Your hands are too damaged. Drink.”

  Miles obediently sipped at the warm liquid, closing his eyes as it started to soothe his throat. Once he’d had as much as he could for the moment, he gave a slight nod to Finley, who set the cup aside.

  “Quince?”

  “On his way. He said four hours from his call, which was….” Chad looked at his phone. “About three ago.”

  “’Kay.” With another breath Miles closed his eyes, trying to decide what to do. He could get them to pick up painkiller for him. It wouldn’t do much, but it could help. On the other hand, if he could go back to sleep and rest some more, he might just recover the energy to shift. He wasn’t worried about concussions; he’d heal from anything like that. Instead, he tried to figure out if he could get a little more comfortable. He frowned down at his legs when he noticed he couldn’t move them. On either side of each was a wooden stick held in place by what looked to be strips of cloth.

  “Splints?”

  “Yeah,” Jamie said. “I didn’t want you to have to rebreak them if they healed wrong.”

  Miles smiled. “Thanks. Would suck.”

  “You need to get more rest,” Tanner said, standing. “With luck Quincy will be here soon, and with him close—”

  “I’ll heal faster, yeah. Thank you.”

  Jamie stepped up. “I’d, uh, hug you or pat you or something, but I have no idea where to touch.”

  Miles smiled again. “Not many places, and a couple I don’t think Chad or Q want you to touch.”

  “Definitely not,” Chad replied.