Runaway (Fox Ridge Shifters Book 1)

by Marianne Hull

  She leaned against the wall by the door, head tilted back, and watched the snowflakes in the safety light above her appear out of the dusk on their path to the ground. They coated her clothes and settled on her face. She let them be, too distracted to wipe them away. For several long minutes her mind swirled, full of seething emotions and scattered thoughts.

  She was afraid. Not of Luke, but of everything he represented: love, acceptance, home, family. Those things had never worked out well for her. Would a shifter be any different than the people who neglected or abandoned her in the past? Did she want to risk finding out yet another person who should have cared about her despised her instead or didn’t love her enough to stick around?

  And then there was Sean. She would have to stop running away and deal with him, but she had no idea how. Before she realized his betrayal, she told her father she was in Northern California. Before long, Sean would find her. Perhaps for the last time. She should leave now to keep both of them safe.

  Her heart leapt whenever Luke came near. She loved him. She suspected walking away from Luke Baumann wouldn’t be easy. Even if he turned out to be another faithless person—and deep down she believed he wouldn’t—his gentle attentions anchored her. She was like a stray cat, wanting his affection yet too skittish to accept it, returning again and again to temptation despite every instinct telling her to run.

  Crissy couldn’t make herself do it. All this time when she thought she’d been running from, she’d been running to. She must tell Luke and take her chances. One way or another, this would end in heartbreak for somebody. Better it be her than him.

  The door moved behind her, and she jumped out of the way. Luke peered out. For a moment they gazed at each other, then she held her arms open for him. He rushed into them.

  “You’re frozen, Schatzi. You’ll catch your death.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder and breathed him in. His clothes always smelled of laundry detergent, and the man beneath of simple Ivory soap. When she nuzzled under his chin, he kissed her cheek.

  “What are you thinking out here?” The question held worlds of hope.

  “I’m thinking I love you and always will.”

  His vast joy was enough for both of them.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Later that week, Luke followed Crissy out the back door of the bar into the still night. For once, a sky full of stars shone overhead with the luminous full moon.

  Her safety nagged at him until he couldn’t sleep unless he walked her home. It was no hardship—half the time he ended up in her creaky old bed, or he drove her back to the farm to sleep in his.

  “You hungry?” he asked. “I am. We could go to the farm, and I’d cook you something.”

  She swung back and forth the hands they held, happy tonight. Contentment came through the mating cord. “Or I could cook. I don’t understand a man who can’t even make a decent ham sandwich.”

  Not offended at all, he said, “I’ve survived over five hundred years.”

  “And I’ll bet you didn’t do most of your own cooking.”

  They crossed the street. He noted a fancy SUV, parked at the end of the block, start its engine. Someone’s out late. “True. Neal always cooked; I always cleaned.”

  “You’ve been together all this time?”

  “Yeah, but we always had other people around, so we never got tired of each other’s company.”

  They turned the corner of her alley. Both Milton and Hairy lay in the shadows on the little pad of cement that served as her doorway. Milton purred loudly. He rose and slinked over to Crissy, not winding around her ankles as he usually did.

  “What’s up, kiddo?” she said and bent down to rub his head. He darted back to Hairy, who hadn’t risen, and let out a plaintive meow. That’s when Luke noticed the blood. With an outstretched hand, he blocked Crissy from stepping forward. “Wait.”

  “What? Oh no!” She darted to Hairy’s side. Her hand hovered over his still body for a moment. “He’s still alive, Luke.”

  He dropped down beside her, heedless of the blood soaking into the knees of his jeans. She fumbled in her purse and produced a small flashlight. Its circle of light revealed a long gash up the cat’s stomach.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood, but I don’t think the cut is as deep as it looks.” He clenched his jaw. Who would do this to a sweet cat like Hairy?

  Her eyes brimmed with hope. “You know animals?”

  “At my age, I’ve picked up a lot of things. Do you have a carrier?”

  “Yes!” She pulled her keys from her pocket and unlocked her door. Moments later she returned with the carrier. He lifted Hairy, and the cat began to purr.

  “He’s purring,” she said.

  He didn’t want her to hold any false hopes. “They do that when they’re in distress.”

  He slid Hairy into the carrier as gently as he could and shut the door. “The clan has a vet. I’ll drive. Keys?”

  They traded carrier for keys. As he opened the driver’s door to her truck, he heard an engine rev. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the tail end of a silver SUV disappear down 3rd street at the end of the alley, and part of a logo. P-O-R. Maybe Porsche. He got in and started the engine.

  “Crissy, do you know anybody who has a Porsche SUV?”

  “No,” she said immediately. “I wouldn’t recognize a Porsche SUV if it hit me in the street.”

  A lie, the first deliberate lie she ever told him. Guilt flooded their connection. And fear. No, not fear—terror. Crissy didn’t seem shocked or surprised someone had mutilated her cat, and he had to wonder if she might have an idea who did it.

  “Are you sure? Think. It might be important.”

  “I’ll think about it. Maybe it will come to me,” she said evasively.

  He almost said something but decided to put it off. She had enough to deal with right now. Soon, though, they would talk about why she didn’t trust him.

  Crissy remained unusually quiet throughout the ride to the vet’s house on the eastern outskirts of Redding. He thought he heard a sob once, but when he ventured a glance in her direction, her eyes were dry. The intense emotions swamping the mating cord were a jumble of pain, fear, and guilt. Once again, Luke wondered what was going on and had to press his lips together to keep from saying something.

  When they pulled up at the small white house that served as Gregory’s clinic, a light shone in the window. Luke had called ahead. Gregory’s mouth drew into a thin line of anger when he saw the poor animal.

  “You know who did this? Should I call the sheriff.”

  “We don’t know,” Crissy said hastily. “It would be a waste of time.”

  Gregory gestured toward a row of upholstered metal chairs in the corner of the small lobby. “Sit. This could take some time.” He hefted the carrier and took it into his examining room.

  Crissy sat beside him, not meeting his eyes and still not speaking. In her hands she held one of her cloth handkerchiefs, twisting and pulling at the white fabric until he thought it might tear. He placed his palm over her two hands and gently squeezed. “Who did this?”

  She bit her lower lip, and the emotions she shared were so intense, so raw, he had to close his eyes for a moment. She emitted a dry sob, choking on it as she tried to hold back tears.

  “You can tell me anything, you know,” he said.

  Shaking her head, the tears began to flow. He put his arm around her, and she sobbed against his chest.

  “Hush, Liebchen. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” When this only made her cry harder, he decided to say no more. All he gleaned from the encounter was her emotions were caused by much more than the mutilation of her cat.

  An hour later, her tears had ceased. He still held her against his chest, one arm around her shoulders. Gregory came in, drying his hands on a paper towel.

  “I’ll need to keep him here,” he said. “It will be touch and go for a day or so, but I’ve got him on a sedative, and he’s comfortable.”
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  Remaining silent, Crissy nodded. Luke spoke for both of them. “Thanks. I’ll take her home and talk to you in the morning.”

  He ushered Crissy from the room, as unsettled as she.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Bobby and Luke both told Crissy the Baumann Clan annual Christmas Eve party was one of the biggest events of the year. Crissy held up her new dress to her bedside lamp, a short sleeveless cocktail dress that showed off her long legs. The fabric of the little black dress appeared to fall from the hanger without a wrinkle, but she couldn’t be sure in the dim light. She sighed a tired sigh. She didn’t own an iron, so hanging it outside the tub while she showered would have to do.

  The bedsprings creaked as she slumped down onto her old pink chenille spread. She didn’t want to party after what had happened to Hairy. Milton jumped up beside her, and she absently rubbed his head. “Your buddy’s hurt,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  What Sean would do to Luke was her biggest worry. She loved him. Her mate. If she was his, then he was equally hers, every charming, cute inch of him. Any woman would find him handsome, but knowing him, his sweetness and his adorable eagerness to be with her, made him irresistible. She’d never met a man like him and never realized the bad boys she went for never truly rang her bell. His steady strength promised a life she’d always longed for, never dreaming it possible.

  She held the dress up to the light with a sudden memory of Sean and how much he liked seeing her dress up. “Prettified,” he called it, although he’d never hesitated to call her beautiful no matter what she wore. Sean came from money and was slumming when he was with her. A summer fling, a little flirtation with the crime syndicate his family ran. Sean was headed to Princeton and never expected to steal cars and dally with bad girls beyond those hot summer nights they shared. His attempts to get her to dress better were to bring her closer to his social circle so his father wouldn’t bug him so much about his “outrageous” behavior.

  It happened too long ago to be so mortified at her foolish trust in him, but she dropped the dress and buried her face in her hands, losing a battle with tears. Mutilating Hairy was Sean’s first salvo. She shivered, and the flesh crawled along her back at the thought he could be right outside, watching her curtained window and plotting his next move. The thought made her heart break.

  She stared at the faint blue light of the spell she’d put around the doors and windows to keep bugs and mice from the apartment. Recently, with the Baumanns’ insistence Crissy was actually a witch, she’d begun to wonder about her abilities and what she could do. It gave her an idea. Crissy sprang up from the bed and ran for the closet where Nana’s box lay hidden. Yanking out the big book of magic, she riffled through, trying to remember a spell she’d noticed there years ago. She knew the book so well, it only took her a moment to find it toward the middle—How to Ward Doors and Windows.

  She scanned the instructions. It required an incantation and smudging with branches of smoldering herbs. No circle. Ginger, dill, and pine would be easy enough to come by, but aspen and white sage were scarce in these parts. A store in Redding might sell those things, she thought. Maybe Luke would know. She smiled a little at the thought of how pleased he would be if she pursued magic.

  Slowly, she lowered the book back into the box, her excitement draining away. She would have to tell Luke her dirty little secrets. Learning the trade from her father, how to use a slim jim and hot wire the older cars and the tricks to get into the newer ones. How to pick locks. Ferrying her dad and Sean to the job site, and picking them up when the stolen cars were delivered. She was driving without a license from the time she was fourteen.

  And she’d loved every minute of it

  ###

  Luke, fully feeling his mate’s distress, paced the kitchen floor, his shoulders hunched.

  Connie stood at the counter, helping Neal and Hugh with celery sticks filled with soft cheese, and other finger foods. “You’ll wear down a rut in the vinyl if you keep that up.”

  “Something’s wrong. She’s very upset.”

  Neal took his attention from a jar of olives and said, “Maybe you should go to her. You’re no use to us in this state.”

  “I don’t understand. She says she loves me. I can feel it. But every time she says it, she’s so sad. Right now, I know she’s crying.”

  “Your mate is damaged, Luke,” Hugh said. He sampled a black olive and continued. “I told you that at the very beginning. Do you have any clue why?”

  “Some. She had a really rough childhood.”

  “What does the mating cord tell you?” Connie asked. She lifted a platter and turned to Neal. “Take this to the table.”

  “She’s afraid a lot, but I don’t know why. Or why she’s sad so often.” His mate’s tears eased, a fragile calm traveling along the cord. “She’s better now.”

  “Give her space,” Neal said. “Let her come to you this time.”

  Luke paused his pacing. “I don’t know. I think she needs to be prodded. I think...I think she’s not telling me all of her story.” Though his heart ached to admit it, he added, “I don’t think she trusts me.”

  ###

  Crissy forced herself up and into the shower. Despite hurrying to make up time, her breakdown made her half an hour late to the party. Cars lined the long drive from the road, and she took a place at the end of them. Even from there, when she stepped out of the truck she could hear music and laughter from the brightly lit farmhouse. Luke, sitting on the porch steps, stood as she made her way up the gravel drive. He waited for her, probably as aware of her arrival as she was of him when he approached the bar.

  He strode across the lawn and pulled her into his arms. She went gratefully, inhaling his comforting scents. Tears welled up again, and she gave herself a harsh internal warning to buck up.

  “What’s wrong, Liebchen?”

  “Nothing important.”

  He squeezed her a little tighter. “You can’t lie to me, you know. I feel what you feel when it’s strong like that. You’re very upset about something.”

  She forced a smile up at him. “Then I need a party to take my blues away.”

  He stared at her, and even in the shadows she could see he was troubled for her. Slowly, tentatively, he lowered his head and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Crissy,” he said on soft breath. “Share with me.” His lips met hers for another soft, gentle kiss.

  As the kiss deepened, all thoughts disappeared in the ecstasy of finding someone she truly loved. And he loved her. She could feel it, strong and sure, traveling along the bond that joined their hearts.

  After a minute she released his lips to gasp for air, and they both laughed.

  “We should go inside,” he said, “but I don’t want to.”

  He’d given up on trying to get her to talk. She doubted it would last for long. If his courtship taught her anything, it was he could be persistent.

  “I would like to meet your friends.”

  “Ja! I would like to introduce you to everyone.”

  He grabbed her hand and led her inside. Apparently, shifters didn’t believe in fashionably late, because they already filled the room. Crissy paused in the doorway and stared. Garlands draped the walls and the staircase by the door. An enormous tree with twinkling lights decorated one corner. At least thirty people stood around in party clothes. Over half of them were shifters. Many different species were represented, but she counted six bears.

  “I didn’t know so many of you could exist in one place,” she whispered.

  He pulled her forward. “Come meet some of them.”

  “Why so many bears?”

  “Shapes run in families, and most shifter groups are predominantly one species. Ours is kind of special. Misfits. Many of the bears here either came over with us from Germany, or are descendants.”

  He led her to the big flowered sofa, where a handsome Hispanic man sat sprawled against the arm with a beer bottle in his hand. His beast was a big cat.
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br />   “San, I want you to meet Crissy.” San leapt to his feet and Luke made the introduction formal. “Crissy, meet Santiago Vazquez.”

  Crissy shook San’s big hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “San is a sheriff’s deputy,” Luke said.

  Before they could talk further, Luke turned to the woman next to him. This led to a dizzying round of introductions and chat. With each person, except the children, Luke named their occupation. Accountant, banker, doctor, owner of the gas station and mini-mart, the vet, and a number of farmers.

  “You seem to have your bases covered,” Crissy said.

  “Huh?” Luke said.

  “You have every job under the sun.”

  “Yeah, we encourage people to take jobs that would be useful to the clan. We’ve learned over the centuries the importance of being self-sufficient.”

  She nodded toward a tall, lean man in dark jeans and a green T-shirt, with motorcycle boots and a chain of heavy silver links on his wrist. A complicated tattoo of Celtic design rose up his left bicep and disappeared under his sleeve. Something in his air, the hooded expression in his eyes, gave his sharp features a wolfish air that perfectly matched the beast hovering over him as he leaned against the wall in a corner of the room. “Who’s that?”

  Luke hesitated before placing a hand on her back and nudging her forward. “Ian,” he said.

  Ian didn’t straighten, though he did nod at Crissy with a smile warm enough to not be condescending. He had a single dimple and an appreciation in his light gray eyes that, if Crissy hadn’t just kissed the love of her life, would have quite entranced her. She suspected he was every bit the wolf.

  “This must be your lovely new mate, Baumann,” he said with a light Scottish accent. Coming from another man, she might have bristled, but something in his gentle tone put her at ease. He spoke quietly, his voice deep.