by Alpha Wolf
She looked in on Brendan and the patients and found they were doing as well as could be expected.
As she got ready to walk toward town, her cell phone rang. “Melanie? Drew. What the hell’s going on?”
“Do you mean why didn’t I stay with Seth all night?” Melanie’s heart leapt into her throat. On top of the guilt she felt about the attacks on her patients, what if something had happened to Seth after she’d left? In all the excitement, she had nearly forgotten about him. “He seemed to be doing okay, and I had an emergency call—”
“That’s what I meant. I got a phone message from Chief Ellenbogen demanding that I call him back to talk about the attacks at your clinic. What happened?”
She gave a summary.
“Damn. I’ll be right there.”
“What about Seth?”
“Doing well. Patrick came back to see how he was when we all…around dawn. Seth was awake, looked like his old self.”
Melanie did a mental translation. The cell phone transmissions might not be secure. But Patrick had gone to check on their fellow werewolf as they were all changing back, when daylight lessened the intensity of the full moon.
Seth had changed back to human form, too.
“Great!” Melanie said, relieved. “If you’d like, meet me at the diner. I’m on my way. Right now I need some coffee.”
She was certain Drew could read between those lines, too.
Drew called Melanie on his cell again as he arrived in Mary Glen. The sky was dark. A spring storm might be brewing. “I’m parking on your street,” he told her. “You at the diner yet?”
“Nearly.”
“Wait for me.” He paused long enough to pull up to the almost empty curb on Choptank Lane, nearest the antique shops. Too early for them to be open. The whole street looked peaceful. No indication that just a block away someone had violated Melanie’s security, hurt her patients. He didn’t like it.
It smacked of a setup.
“Let’s strategize,” he continued, “about what we’ll say and how we’ll say it. What do you want to bet word’s out everywhere about the attacks on your patients last night?”
“No doubt about it.” She didn’t sound happy. “I don’t know who did it or why, but…”
Her sudden hesitation bothered him. “But what?” He turned off the sedan’s motor and opened the door. He had put on a blue windbreaker over his long-sleeved shirt as he’d rushed out of his base apartment. No need to pull up the hood. The rain hadn’t started.
“Were all your…operatives accounted for last night?” Melanie finally asked.
He stopped, suddenly angry. She thought it could be one of them who caused the mayhem at her clinic?
Presumably she meant while they were in animal form. When they’d shapeshifted because they had to. And perhaps lost control in other areas, too.
Only, it didn’t work that way. Hadn’t she learned that yet?
Too angry to answer, especially since he wasn’t sure no one monitored this unsecure call, he strode fast onto Mary Glen Avenue toward the diner.
Too bad he’d left Grunge in their quarters. The dog would have enjoyed this brisk walk. But sitting outside wasn’t an option this chilly, menacing morning. And scenting out the source of what had gotten into Melanie’s clinic? Drew could give it a once-over, but figured this intruder would have masked the odor the same as had been done before. He’d no doubt that all these incidents were related.
But why? And who?
“Drew? Are you still there?”
“Yeah.” He spoke curtly.
“You don’t like that question? Well, sorry, but I had to ask.”
The diner was only a block away now, and he spied Melanie standing on the sidewalk near it. Not surprisingly, no one sat at the outside tables. Even from this distance, he could tell she looked lovely and professional in her crisp white shirt and dark slacks. She wore no jacket, carried no umbrella.
As he got closer, he saw that her posture was tense, as if she anticipated additional attacks on her, even here. Her blue eyes looked shadowed by lack of sleep and anxiety.
Drew fought an urge to take her into his arms. He understood why she’d all but accused his guys of attacking her patients, but he didn’t have to like it.
“Hi, Drew,” she said, so softly and sadly that the urge won. He clasped her tightly and kissed her.
She started to respond but pulled away. “Let’s go in. I’m glad—what’s the phrase?—you’ll have my back.”
“Yeah,” he said. But would she blame him for not having her back last night? Or her patients’?
The diner was crowded, perhaps more than usual for early morning. Being pretty much an outsider himself, Drew wasn’t sure how many patrons were locals and how many from out of town, but the familiar faces outnumbered the unfamiliar. Many of those he recognized he’d seen during the town meeting and here, afterward. That meant at least some were werewolf chasers.
Not surprisingly, he and Melanie were approached nearly immediately by Angie Fishbach. “What happened at your place last night?” she asked Melanie. “People are saying everything from one of the animals there attacked the others, to a breakin by a whole pack of werewolves.”
“Neither,” Melanie said. “All I can tell you is that the patients I held overnight were attacked by some kind of creature, maybe a dog.”
“Then it was a werewolf.” Drew wanted to erase the smug smile from the woman’s round face. “That’s what I thought.”
“That would certainly support the Mary Glen legend, wouldn’t it?” Melanie’s tone was clipped. “Not to mention your story about how your husband was killed. Me? I’m keeping an open mind, but it’d be a good thing if someone could prove it was a werewolf. Whatever it was got past my new security system, and it sure would make me feel better to think that only something supernatural could do that. Now, is there a table available?”
Drew was initially surprised by her outpouring. Then impressed. Kind of. But while daring Angie or the shapeshifter chasers might get them to toss her some information, it could also be hazardous to her health, and he wasn’t about to let her go on. Before he decided how to react, she grabbed his hand and squeezed.
Which felt good. And did what she had undoubtedly intended: got him to keep his mouth shut. For now.
There was a table available near the row of booths, a good spot for hearing any surrounding conversations. He ordered a cheese omelet, like any regular guy instead of one with a need to eat meat. Which he especially did on the day after a night of the full moon. He remembered the last time he’d been here. He figured whoever had drugged him and his team members was unlikely to try it again—but he still determined to stay alert.
Melanie, too, ordered an omelet. And then she gazed into his eyes, softly, moodily, as if she were madly in love with him and couldn’t look anywhere else. It made his body react. He had an urge to run his fingers through her softly flowing sable hair. To touch her skin, anywhere. But they were separated by a table, and the lack of privacy. “When we’re done here—” he finally said.
“Shh,” she whispered. “Just look at me. Pretend we really care for each another. No one will pay attention to two people mooning over one another, and then we can both listen to who’s saying what. You can, especially.”
Sure he could, but that deflated him. Irritated him even more. She was obviously mad at him. As he was with her. She had a point, though. And so, frustrated, he looked but did not touch. And listened.
As anticipated, the restaurant hummed with the story of the attack at the veterinary clinic. Glances, curious and covert, were tossed their way.
The rumors? Well, werewolves were, not unexpectedly, the main suspects in what had happened. Who were they, in human form? That varied, from some of the SSTs—that suggestion accompanied by huge laughs—to the mayor to Melanie herself. And renegade politicians from nearby Washington, D.C. And soldiers from Ft. Lukman like Drew—mentioned with a furtive glance his way—since
wasn’t he the one Melanie had saved in the first place? Did he really have a dog named Grunge?
Many discussions involved Nolan Smith’s Web site. He had apparently gotten wind of the attacks early this morning and started his own speculations. He also referenced the news media and other Web sites all over the country that were rumored to be paying him for his nearly exclusive insight and information.
Too soon, breakfast was over. “I need to get back to my patients,” Melanie said, her formerly adoring look turning cool enough to stab him. “I gather that my…K-9 patient at the base is doing well enough that I don’t need to check on him this morning, right?”
“Right,” Drew agreed. Since Seth had changed back into a person, he was under regular medical care, so a vet would now be superfluous. Even so…“It would be a good idea for you to stop by later today for any follow-up that might be needed.”
She looked at him searchingly, as if trying to assess if this was real or part of the act. Well, hell. Why was she acting this way? He wasn’t responsible for the attack, and neither were his guys—whether she believed it or not.
“We’ll talk later,” she finally said, not sounding too enthused about it.
“Yeah,” he responded. “I’ll let you know when I’m coming by this evening, to stay the night.”
“No need,” she said in a low voice. “After last night, Angus will undoubtedly send additional patrols along my street. I’ll stay at the clinic, ready to protect my patients, if necessary.”
“But who’ll protect you?” Drew growled.
“Forget the macho human thing,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “If I’m not distracted by injured shapeshifters, I can take care of my patients and myself.”
Chapter 20
W hen they finished breakfast, they kept up the facade of being a caring couple as Drew walked Melanie back to the clinic—at least while anyone in town might be looking.
So why, when no one could see them, did he look down at her just inside her reception room with a gaze that could convince her he wanted something from her—and not just veterinary services? Something hot and wild and sexy.
Well, she was angry with him. With the whole situation. He had used her. Used her services. She had walked right into it, knowingly. Her patients had been the ones to suffer.
But was she turned on? Yeah. When he kissed her, her insides lit like a match.
“See you later,” he said.
“No need.” She had intended the words to come out firmly, not breathlessly.
And then he was gone.
Fortunately Brendan waited till then to come out to find her. “How are our patients?” she asked.
“Not bad.” She went with him to check and was relieved that he was right. She insisted that he go home at last and rest.
The owners of the three injured pets insisted on coming to see them. Each time, Melanie both apologized and attempted to explain the security breach, the assault by…whatever had hurt their babies so awfully, even though she had no answers.
At least she could tell them that Jake, Dixie and Kewpie would all be okay. She wanted to keep them another day to watch over them. And she was greatly relieved when each owner appeared to trust her enough not to let anything else happen to them.
She would not break that trust. She called a security company out of Annapolis to beef up her system, and amazingly they were able to come at once. Or maybe not so amazingly, at the price they charged. She even had cameras installed.
The patients still scheduled for that afternoon all arrived. No one, it seemed, blamed her for what had happened. No one, except herself.
At least her veterinary skills remained in demand. Or maybe everyone just wanted to see the scene of last night’s sad, scary crime.
Carla and Astrid returned in the early afternoon to pitch in and do their jobs as if nothing had happened. She appreciated them—especially Astrid, who seemed as livid as Melanie herself about how someone had apparently decided to lend some truth to the Mary Glen werewolf legends at the poor animals’ expense.
Carla, though, seemed even more convinced that what had happened was further verification of the legends. Seated at her small desk in the waiting room, she almost beamed at Melanie during a lull between patients. “You should see what Nolan thinks,” she said almost ecstatically. “He’s got so much posted on his Web site now, and the entire world is commenting on his bulletin boards. As much advertising as he was selling before—well, if this keeps up, he’ll be really famous.”
And rich, Melanie figured, thanks to his lucrative advertising. Which made her wonder about the guy even more.
She had, of course, wondered before about Nolan and his apparent fascination with werewolf lore. Absurd but harmless, had been her earliest surmises. Less absurd, and less harmless, she had decided when she learned the truth about Drew and Alpha Force and the secrets they needed to keep. They may have selected the location near Mary Glen for the good it could do the group, but the legends were probably proving more harmful than helpful now.
But could Nolan, with his fixation on shapeshifting, be willing to harm animals to make his point? Shoot them, then steal back the silver bullets? Find a way to maul defenseless pets to make it seem that a legendary creature did it?
Maybe so, if it brought in advertising revenue to his Web site, and fame to him and his cause.
If only she hadn’t become involved…
When she had seen her last patient of the day and sent her assistants home, Melanie decided it was time to do as Carla had said and check out the latest updates to Nolan’s Web site.
And was stunned—and frightened—by what she saw.
She immediately picked up the phone. “Drew,” she said when he answered. “There’s something you need to see.”
The bastard had to be the one who had engineered the attack on the animals at Melanie’s clinic. Drew was sure of it, staring at the lab’s computer screen at the gruesome, bloody photos on Nolan Smith’s Web site.
How else could Smith have gotten those pictures?
Sure, he said on the Web page that they had been sent to him anonymously, obviously by the shapeshifter who had done this, to taunt him and all his wonderful friends who wanted to stop the “evil monsters” before they hurt any more people or animals.
But he himself had to be the evil monster who’d done this. And Drew was just the one to make him admit it.
He checked out one more thing before putting his computer into sleep mode: Smith’s address. And then he stood.
Just as Patrick Worley, dressed in civvies, entered the lab. “Drew, you okay?”
Apparently his fury was as obvious outside as he felt it in every inch of his body. “Yeah, you?”
“Sure, but Seth’s wound appears to be getting infected. The guys and I are taking him to Walter Reed to get him looked at.”
“Yeah, that’s the best human military medical center around.” It was in D.C., not next door, but not too far, either. “Go for it. Jonas, Nella and you are all going?”
“Unless you need us here.”
Would he need backup handling a twerp like Nolan Smith? The guy might expect retaliation, whether or not he genuinely believed in shapeshifters. He might figure someone would guess he committed the atrocities on Melanie’s patients and come after him.
Well, Drew would be careful. And he would be armed. “No, you go ahead. I’ll stick around and keep an eye on things. But keep me informed.”
“Will do.” Patrick shot him a half-hearted salute and left.
Melanie would want to know this latest development, so Drew called her. He told her about Seth, and his impending hospital run to Washington, accompanied by other team members. And then he told her about Nolan Smith. She sounded upset, but thanked him for the information. “Did you check out that Web site?” she asked.
“Yeah. Strange, but okay. Don’t worry about it.” He needed her to stay out of this. Figured she would stay out of it, since she was clearly so angry
about what had happened.
But him? He would worry.
And do something about it.
Melanie paced her office, wanting to act but unsure what to do. Damn Drew! Not worry about it? Hah!
She could call Chief Ellenbogen, but then what? He would contact Nolan, who would again spout his flimsy story that some unknown source had emailed him the photos.
If this were a terrorist act against humans, the authorities would follow through, do whatever was necessary to trace the origin of the correspondence, arrest the perpetrator, whatever. But her patients, though dear to their owners and her, were not human. Not entitled, under the law, to the same protections.
Edgy and irritated, she strode down the hall and into the makeshift infirmary set up now in the room where she normally performed surgery. All of them—Kewpie, Jake and Dixie, sat in their crates and regarded her expectantly. Happily. As though they appreciated what she had done for them.
“But no one should have hurt you in the first place, guys,” she said softly. “Not on my watch.” She laughed ruefully to herself. Wasn’t that something said in the military? She was a civilian, notwithstanding the fact that she had gotten herself involved with one hellish military project.
She patted each of the animals gently through the bars, then hurried out of the room once more.
Well, she might not know what to do, but maybe Drew did. Maybe he was already doing it. She returned to her office and called him again, but she got his voicemail recording immediately. She didn’t leave a message. What would she say?
Maybe she should just go home. But she wouldn’t sleep, not feeling like this.
Bury herself in more paperwork here? Sure. That’s what she always did.
She went to the restroom first and washed her face. She heard the clinic’s phone ring but was too far from an extension to answer.
The light on her extension wasn’t blinking when she got to her office, so she went to the reception area to check Carla’s line. Sure enough, it was flashing. If someone had just tried to make an appointment, Carla could call back tomorrow. But in case it was an owner of one of the injured animals wanting to check on them and say goodnight, she decided to listen.