Marc and Dog

by Angela White

  Marc dropped the last thick piece toward those snapping, snarling jaws, then let go and leapt out of the jeep. He strode to the barn doors as the wolf finished the food and began rooting around in the cooler.

  “I’ll be back in the morning,” Marc called over a shoulder, proud of himself.

  There was no warning. Marc was suddenly hit from behind, slamming into the doorframe. His face broke his fall.

  Marc slid to his knees, dazed. Mistake!

  The wolf lunged forward, meaning to tear out his throat, and Marc swung in defense–hard.

  The wolf was driven backwards, howling in agony. It staggered to the ground and stayed there, obviously feeling nothing but pain.

  “Exactly,” Marc declared, slowly standing up. “Bad wolfie!”

  The wolf kept braying long enough for Marc to become concerned, but he wasn’t about to tend the animal. He still had too many stars across his vision.

  The noises faded to whines and whimpers as Marc felt his head. He came away with bloody fingers. “Brought down by my own wolf. The guys will shit themselves over this.”

  The wolf didn’t run as Marc staggered by him, but he tried to snarl. It became a whine.

  Marc nodded, and immediately regretted it as pain flipped his guts again. “That’s what we both get. You for being an ass, and me for thinking I had you under control.”

  The wolf padded behind him and Marc dizzily spun around, expression like thunder. “Go lay down!”

  To Marc’s shock, the wolf glowered resentfully and then slunk off with its tail between its legs.

  It took a few seconds to make the connection. He’d taken the wolf’s freedom and become the leader of his pack by winning the physical fight.

  “Round one, anyway,” Marc grumbled, certain there would be more. He scowled. “You don’t even have a name and you’ve already made me bleed. I usually get to slide between a soft pair of legs after that happens.”

  Marc was reminded of Julia. He twisted toward the office. “Stay, doggie.”

  The wolf growled from a dark corner.

  Laughing, Marc hurried through the door, quickly latching it. He preferred one head injury at a time.

  Marc scanned the property as he came from the barn, spotting three of Julia’s longtime employees. Rusty and his two pals were dark, lean, and built, but they weren’t military. Marc assumed they took care of Julia’s needs when none of her service friends could come around, but she had made it clear that she preferred men in uniform.

  Marc noticed the resentful expressions and grinned a bit despite his aches. He rattled his dog tag as he strode toward the door, leaving them to mutter and flash obscene gestures.

  Marc let himself in, latching the door. Julia’s home was lovely. Wooden walls and floors covered in a high shine of tender care was what he had come to expect. Walking through dust where other prints were visible came as a surprise. Since when did Julia let the housekeepers slack off? The main ranch house held twenty rooms. Julia and Chad had built it with the money she’d gotten from a lawsuit. Marc didn’t remember what the case had been about, but the cash from it had allowed the newly married couple to build a home of their dreams. Chad and Julia had been happy here, and after his death, she’d still been content.

  Something changed, Marc observed. Something feels different.

  Before he made it through the long hallway to the dining room, Julia appeared in the doorway to his left. When she beckoned him in without speaking, Marc didn’t refuse.

  3

  “I’m in trouble, Brady.”

  He had paused in the dining room doorway, more than a little shocked. This entire side of the house used to be covered in plants. There had been so many of them that he’d often felt as if he was outside. It had been great.

  “I assumed that as soon as I saw this room,” Marc replied, missing the jungle-like décor that had once filled the room. Julia’s plants and pets were her life. “What’s going on?”

  “One of...Chad’s buddies turned up last year,” Julia told him, staying by the door as Marc walked to the sparse table. “He said he was Chad’s best friend. He said they’d been doing rogue ops together, that Chad had left a debt.”

  “Rogue ops?” Marc questioned, sitting down to a thin stew that smelled better than it looked. Julia had cooked this, not her chef. Marc frowned. No chef. “I’ve never heard that term.” He had, of course, but he needed to discover how much Julia knew about Chad’s shadier activities. There had been a few. One, Marc had refused to be a part of right after they’d become teammates, but he hadn’t been hurting for money the way the married men were. He didn’t have a home or family.

  Angie.

  Marc tore his thoughts from that relentless ghost and focused on Julia, who was informing him about the last year here.

  “Chad owed him money, so he said he would take care of me until it was paid back.” Julia’s cheeks squashed up in confusion. “I thought you were taking care of me.”

  “So did I,” Marc answered stiffly. “You didn’t tell me that you were having trouble. Not one call.”

  “I wasn’t, until the lawyers came,” she muttered. Realizing she needed to start from the beginning, Julia sighed. “Chad’s policy didn’t cover much more than the funeral. I still had to cover the mortgage on the ranch and keep the staff here paid. I took out a loan.”

  “And when it defaulted, you started selling everything?” Marc guessed.

  “I sold it all before it defaulted, but the payment didn’t make it to the bank.”

  “Stolen?”

  “Missing,” she informed him. “Chad’s buddy said he would take care of it, but until he finds the thief, he wants me to live with him. I said no, so he shot my dog!”

  Marc scowled, noting that she hadn’t joined him at the table. “I can hear the lies, Julia. What the hell is going on?”

  Julia’s flinched as if he’d hit her.

  Marc scanned his late friend’s wife. Bitten fingernails, pale, thinner. “Tell me about the rogue work.”

  “The guy says he and Chad made deliveries for cartel clients,” Julia whispered brokenly. “They were running drugs or guns or something, and Chad helped them!”

  She dissolved in tears, sliding into the chair by the door.

  Marc let her cry, trying to spot the lies. The problem was, so far he couldn’t. Only her evasive tone was wrong. Chad had done freelance work for the cartels, and Marc had noticed the marker by the barn. He just hadn’t realized it was her yapping little puppy’s grave. “When do I get to meet this buddy?”

  Julia flinched again. “He said he’d be back in two weeks, that I’d better be packed and ready to go.”

  Marc spent a few minutes eating while Julia got her emotions under control. When he was finished, he slowly stood up. “I don’t believe you.”

  Julia nodded, voice subdued. “I know. I feel it.”

  “Want to change your story?”

  Julia didn’t meet his eye. “You’ll see.”

  She left the room without another word, going toward her bedroom.

  Marc didn’t ask if he was invited. He would mull it all over and try to decide on a plan of action. That was almost impossible to do until he’d met this mysterious friend. Marc had made a point of talking to every person at the funeral, hoping there was someone who could care for Julia in his place, but there hadn’t been. She was great for a weekend away, but Marc hadn’t wanted her to get the idea that he was Chad’s replacement. She never had though, and they’d enjoyed some wonderful moments together, enough of them that Marc knew her too well for this scared, hopeless act to work. Julia was hell on wheels most days. It was part of why the sex was so hot.

  Marc ran a hand through short, black spikes, sighing unhappily. He should have come back sooner to check on her. He’d let himself believe the letters she’d always answered, because deep down he’d feared creating a bond with her.

  Always a polite guest, Marc took his dishes to the dusty kitchen, giving them a
fast rinse. As he scanned the wine bottles in the garbage can and the rest of the neglected kitchen that had once bustled with a cook and two helpers, Marc felt as if he were being watched. It wasn’t comforting that it didn’t feel like Julia.

  Marc retrieved his kit, slinging it over a shoulder as he headed for the barn. He already felt as if he was too close to this situation to comprehend what was really happening. Once he had a theory, he would try to get ready for the confrontation with this friend. He expected that to be a wash, but he didn’t have two weeks to wait and find out if the person showed up. He had to be on base in seven days. He would have to account for time.

  Marc stepped into the barn and quickly fastened the door, peering around. He didn’t see the wolf, but that didn’t mean the animal wasn’t waiting for another chance to attack or run.

  Fed, satisfied, and sore, Marc climbed to the loft. He put his bedroll by the edge so that he could watch the wolf, but sleep came before he pinpointed the animal in the darkness. If not for the heavy panting from a far corner, he would have wondered if the wolf had escaped. Exhausted, Marc slept.

  Below him, the wolf finally settled down in a corner to do the same. He hadn’t been positive that the man was coming back and it had scared him more than traveling in the big box.

  Confused, sore, and scared, the wolf laid his head down. Humans suck.

  Chapter Five

  September 8th

  1

  Marc’s first clue that something was wrong came as the sun lightened the dusty barn. Creaking boards said he wasn’t alone in the loft.

  Marc opened one bleary lid to peer around. He spotted a furry leg and understood that the wolf had climbed the ladder.

  That’s not possible! his groggy mind insisted. Figure it out later, Marc ordered. Go!

  The wolf lunged forward, almost falling as Marc rolled toward the middle of the loft. His paws scrambled back from the edge as he yelped in terror.

  Marc also backed up, trying to snap into alertness to handle the animal. Becoming an instant Marine only happened in battle. Once that coolness fell off, he was like any other person who didn’t care for morning awakenings that lacked coffee and quiet.

  Furious about his captivity, the wolf leapt again, snarling.

  Marc chose to duck the leaps and snaps. Despite needing the animal to know who was boss, Marc also didn’t punch the angry wolf. Instead, he taunted it to release his own displeasure at the situation. “Come on, doggy! That all you got?”

  Marc tried to be careful, timing his ducks and rolls, but twice he was scratched by intent claws searching for his skin. He was also slobbered on and covered in fur as the wolf used up his energy in the futile effort. Because he was defending, Marc wasn’t out of breath until the end. The wolf however, was panting and whimpering even as he jumped again.

  Sensing his moment, Marc spun away a last time and waited for the wolf to land to make eye contact. “No more. Done!”

  Marc growled lightly, baring his teeth in hopes that the communication would be successful.

  Steeling himself, Marc waited for the wolf to inch forward again and shouted, “No!”

  Not expecting the loud noise, the wolf flinched back, teeth coming out.

  Marc pointed toward a corner. “Go!” He didn’t think the animal would obey.

  The wolf didn’t, but he did stop jumping, staring in confusion while he panted.

  Marc calmly retrieved his kit. He hadn’t planned on them being stuck in the loft together, but it would force the wolf to accept him quicker.

  Paws padded after him, but Marc didn’t feel the intent to jump. He took a fast glance, and found the wolf a few feet away, staring mistrustfully.

  “Good boy.”

  The wolf snarled hatefully in response.

  2

  There was no food or water in the loft and the wolf clearly knew it. The whining from the corner steadily increased over the morning until Marc began humming to drown it out. As he cleaned up and ate from his kit, he tossed scraps that were ignored.

  After using the loft window, Marc studied the ranch through early morning drizzle. Very few employees came into view over the next hours. He saw none of the normal labor that was required on a ranch this size.

  “No cook, no maid, no moo,” Marc murmured. He hadn’t seen one head of cattle the entire time he’d been here. Also, no flower garden, no fields of corn, and no rescued animals getting in the way of workers. The ranch was shut down. When had that happened?

  3

  Julia gently closed the door after slipping into the dusty room where no one went anymore. During her marriage to Chad, she’d longed for a baby, but one had never come.

  Julia trailed a hand along the crib that hadn’t been used. She dropped carefully into the fragile rocker that she’d purchased for night nursing. A baby was all she’d wanted.

  Julia felt tears slid down her cheeks, and didn’t try to stop them. She’d known Chad most of her life. They both had police parents. Or at least, they had. Her mother and father had been killed in a car accident. Chad’s parents had been lost to war when he was a child. They’d only had each other, and it hadn’t been nearly enough for her.

  Julia listened to the men carrying out the last of her valuables to be sold off in hopes of raising the bank money a second time. She wasn’t sure it would be enough, but she doubted the cash would make it to where it was supposed to go. She needed help if she wanted to salvage her life.

  Julia glanced around the deserted room, face damp. So much had changed since Chad’s funeral. She’d been hit with so many surprises that she was dazed, but through it all, her one true desire hadn’t faded. She was meant to be a mother.

  Julia wiped at her face as a wave of determination settled onto her shoulders. She hadn’t given up yet. Marc was here. He would help her and things would get better. They had to. Life couldn’t get any worse for her right now unless she died.

  4

  Julia didn’t emerge from the wide home until well after noon. She carefully came through the faint patches of mud to the loft window where Marc was standing, smoking.

  He was glad that she hadn’t come out a little sooner and caught him urinating. Like the wolf, when he had to go, he went.

  “I have to run into town,” Julia called up. Her face was swollen. She’d obviously spent the morning crying.

  “Do you need an escort?”

  She quickly shook her head and vanished into the garage.

  Marc stared in suspicion. Every bit of her behavior was out of character. If he didn’t have the wolf to handle, he would have followed her to town for recon.

  The soft pad of feet alerted Marc to the wolf’s dangerous presence and he tensed for a renewed fight. He glanced down to find the wild animal at his side, staring through the opening. Brown, black, and grey fur ruffled in anger, showing red highlights that were fascinating in the glow of the setting sun. In the distance, the forest and hills looked much like the area where the wolf had come from. Marc understood the deep-throated whimper.

  “Sorry, Dog,” he consoled. “But we’ll go to places like that together. It won’t be completely lost for you.”

  The wolf peered up, too tired and nauseous to fight. He stared with wide, golden eyes that begged Marc to take him home.

  Marc felt the crushing pain clearly.

  Ready for a break from the hours of standing, Marc resumed his spot along the wall, sinking down in relief.

  The wolf followed. This time when the human tossed a scrap, the big animal snapped it down greedily.

  Marc wasn’t sure what had changed between them, if anything, but he didn’t let his guard down as the wolf came closer for each scrap.

  The wolf was hungry and thirsty. He’d been running for a long time before Marc’s den had trapped him. Then the drugs had hit hard. Wrestling with Marc hadn’t been fun, and the water here had been gone the same hour that he’d found it. The food had been nice, but without water, the wolf was already feeling weak. He knew t
he man was how he would be given that precious liquid. What he didn’t know was what the human wanted from him in return.

  Marc pulled a drink from his canteen and saw the wolf’s head snap up at the scent of water. Taking a big risk, (that was how he’d always lived) Marc extended his hand and poured some of the water into it.

  The wolf came forward quickly, surprising Marc into a small flinch that made the wolf’s snout draw up.

  “No,” Marc stated firmly, pouring more water. When the wolf stuck his snout under the small stream and began licking, Marc kept pouring but stayed ready to react if the animal attacked.

  The wolf finished all the water, not noticing the taste of the man’s skin. As the horrible burning in his throat subsided, the wolf became aware of the scent. It was thick with barn odors and smoke, making the wolf shy away.

  Marc capped the canteen and switched to a dry location. He’d spent so many days in the field like this that it didn’t seem odd at all. On the other hand, acting civilized and blending into society was so stressful that he often finished his days like this–in the woods somewhere.

  The wolf watched Marc, no longer whining, but longing to feel the forest under his paws, the scent of his pack mates around him in sleep. He’d gotten used to those things since being taken into the group. He’d only been a pup then, but the beta had lost hers and in her grief, hadn’t protested when he’d snuck in to suckle. The pack had accepted him once he was covered in her scent, and he’d never left. His first pack, where there had been siblings and a true, loving mother, hadn’t survived the fire. He’d been on his own before he could hunt, but his new pack had taught him. He’d been fiercely defended as the surviving pup. When his beta mother had killed the alpha female of their pack over a new litter and taken her place, Dog had also moved up in rank. Life had been good until their alpha had chosen to hunt prey on the human ranch again. The people in matching fur had shown up soon after and the running had begun. His mates had all been captured, some of them killed, and Dog had been caged in a human building for so long that he’d almost gotten used to the smell of people. He hadn’t been happy, though. He’d escaped before the latest fire that had shoved him back into their path. Now, he was far from home, stuck in an unfamiliar area with a man who could hurt him. The wolf sank down on his haunches, whining.