HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters

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HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters Page 32

by Hunt, Sabrina


  That’s when Trini had further electrified us with something she recalled overhearing from our aunt’s grandmother, a woman who’d indulged Trini’s love for old Navajo legends.

  “She told me that if you speak the true name of the beast, it becomes human again. Something about how when they become Skinwalkers, they agree to give up their humanity in exchange for power, but a name recalls it back. I don’t know if that’s true, of course.”

  Hazel had nodded, her face pale, but her eyes bright. “Sani said something like that to us, although at the time, I wasn’t sure what he meant. Now we do.”

  “This is the first and best clue we’ve had to how to end his power,” Ben had agreed.

  Burr had chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Leave it to two feisty sisters to figure it out. Bless you, Montero’s.”

  Even Rayner had seemed overwhelmed with relief and couldn’t stop thanking us.

  After they left, wishing us well, Trini had turned, raising her eyebrows at me. “What happened to your man?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I’d snapped.

  “Sure you do. And you mean who. Big shoulders, dreamy hazel eyes, serious expression, and the hots for my baby sister.” Trini had teased. And had not stopped teasing or asking.

  “Listen, I won’t bring him up again,” she said in my ear, making me sit up straight. “You’re being obstinate as usual. But sis, heroes of the wilderness or whatever, that was somethin’ you don’t see every day.” She paused. “Don’t walk away just because you’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared!” I said, gripping the phone. The lie was bitter on my tongue. “I’m”

  “Kalin, you’ve always liked to be intrepid and independent. And I love that about you. I also don’t think love will change that about you, nor do I think you think that, deep down. But I think somewhere, you got used to being on your own, and you use that to shield yourself from intimacy.”

  “What, you’re a psychologist now, Trin?” I tried to ask sarcastically.

  “Maybe with you, sure.” Trini’s voice was like a warm hug. “I love you Kalin and I know you. And you’re not running from this because the guy fights off Skinwalkers, wields some badass powers, and has some crazy destiny – you’re running because you’re scared of your feelings.”

  I bit my lip savagely and stared at the ceiling. I had no response to that.

  “I gotta go,” she said a moment later. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” I murmured, and hung up. Curling up on my bed, I felt a few tears slip free, but nothing eased the ache inside. I sometimes thought if I could just sob for a few hours, get it out, maybe this wound on my heart would finally go away.

  But it seemed to burn more deeply and duller every day.

  The night after the Lake Mead fight had been a long, sleepy slog. Trini had been exhausted and hungry, but couldn’t stop asking questions. That’s when the brothers had realized she’d remembered stuff she shouldn’t have. So instead of leaving her to be carted away to a hospital like the rest of the Pale Eyes, she’d come along with the brothers, Hazel, and me.

  Walking away from the scene, seeing police officers swarming down, EMTs, and Park Rangers, I’d shivered. “You think they’ll know we were here?”

  Burr had laughed. “Don’t worry, we have ways of covering our tracks.”

  Somehow, we’d ended up in a run-down motel, Trini and I sharing a room with Hazel. We’d eaten some pizza, then fallen asleep immediately. The next day, Ben and Burr had taken the three of us girls out to breakfast, at a spot where we could eat outside. The weather was finally warm again.

  Politely, the two hotshots refused to answer where the rest of their brothers were, but they’d answered a lot of our questions, telling us as much as they’d thought we needed to know.

  And swearing us to secrecy.

  That’s how I’d learned about how they’d been given their gifts five years ago, had trained and learned to perfect them, had faced off against the Ash Walkers many times.

  But they’d only fought the Crooked Man once before, during the summer.

  Over the Moonstone, which he had stolen away after Hazel had recovered it…

  Then Trini had told us her story. How she was out at a bar in Vegas, and it was getting to be early in the morning, maybe three, and for some reason, the conversation was revolving around ghost stories. Trini had told the story about the Skinwalker, freaking out everyone except one guy.

  “I’d met him before. Hugo Kren, obviously not his real name. Handsome, dark eyes, blonde hair. It’s hard to remember, it’s sort of a blur in my memory. Maybe because of the booze. He said he ran a business out at Lake Mead and had some weird experiences there. Asked me if I wanted to go… And that’s all I remember until I woke up with that creature screaming at me about Kalin.” Her hand had tightened over mine. “I don’t even think I was frightened for myself, but I was worried – he seemed so paranoid, so furious about you…”

  From there, the discussion had turned to all the questions that still needed to be answered. Why had the water burned him? What did I do to the Moonstone to make him flee from it?

  What was his real name?

  As time passed, I still wondered about those questions but knew I couldn’t answer them. However, some part of me still expected Wes to turn up, but he hadn’t.

  Or call.

  But nothing.

  It was such an abrupt, unsettling ending. One that didn’t make sense.

  Suddenly, the look in his eyes by the lake came into my mind. When I’d turned from chasing the Skinwalker. In the bright moonlight, it was all there.

  Relief, longing, and love. And then that kiss.

  Yet I’d frozen up afterward. Used Trini as a way to slip away. Avoided looking at him.

  Guilt and agony jabbed at me.

  Worst of all, I didn’t even have a picture of him. I’d hauled that stupid camera all across the desert and had taken one picture. Granted, it was an important clue from the brothers…

  A picture? Really? What’s wrong with me?

  A few hours after talking to Trini, I was home alone, lying on my bed in an apathetic state, when a sudden hammering came on the front door, then the impatient chiming of the doorbell.

  Sitting up, I crossed the room in flash and flew downstairs. I’d no idea who was pounding on the door like that. Flashing by a mirror, I vaguely noted my hair was a mess, my eyes had bags under them, and my skin was pale. The tan from the desert was long gone.

  Pulling open the door, I gaped at the man on the other side. He scowled at me, leaning against the doorjamb, and tapping his foot.

  “Cree?” I finally found my voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “Came to talk to you.” He crossed his arms, shooting me a hard look. I’d never seen Cree without a smile. Even when Wes had held him up at the edge of Lake Mead, his body a line of pain, there’d been a grin on Cree’s face.

  “Come in,” I somehow got out, leading him into my parents’ house. This was surreal. It had been weird when Rayner, Burr, Ben, and Hazel had been here, but Cree on his own was like a dream. “Do you want something to drink?” I went into the kitchen. “Cree? Hello?” Turning around, I gasped. He was gone. “Cree?”

  Rushing back to the front door, I peered outside and then heard a creak from overhead. Annoyance flared in my chest. Had he gone upstairs without my permission?

  I ran to the second floor, then gaped as I saw him standing in my room, a thoughtful look on his face. He scowled when he saw me.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I stormed, marching in.

  “I could ask you the same question,” Cree responded in a cool voice. “Seems like you’re well on your way to becoming a recluse. Laundry, work, no going out.”

  Irritated, I began sorting laundry so I didn’t strangle him. “You can leave now, Cree,” I snarled. “And, what, been talking to my sister?”

  “Yes,” he said, and I dr
opped my clothes, stumbling back. “Hazel got her number the last time in case Trini needed anything from us. So I called her because I needed to ask what is wrong with you.”

  Chest falling and rapidly rising, I stared at him. “What?”

  “Stop it, Kalin.” Cree looked pissed now. “Wes is dying without you.”

  His name felt like a blow and I wrapped my arms protectively around my stomach. “Did he tell you that?” I asked. “What… Is he okay?”

  Rolling his eyes, Cree rubbed his hand over his hair. It was a mess, but it worked on Cree. I could only imagine how many girls must flirt with him on a daily basis. “Kalin, you know as well as I do that is not how Wes Young works.” He sounded almost tired. “I’ve known him for a long time. He’s saved my ass more times than you can imagine. He’s my best friend, a good guy, and he’s deep.”

  “Deep?” I almost laughed.

  “Yeah, you know, he’s got that artist thing,” Cree muttered. “Drives the ladies wild. Only you have it too, so I guess you drive each other wild.” His voice got loud. “Wes is hurting right now. You broke his heart.” Now Cree was glaring at me. There was something of the wild in his gaze – a fierce, loyal look that made me want to get my camera. “But, from the looks of it, you’re in as just as much pain, so for God’s sake, go to the man and make love. Be with him.”

  A sob escaped me and I bent over. Then I was on the floor, holding my knees, and rocking back and forth. “Cree, he said we couldn’t be together, don’t you get that? I’m trying not to cause him more pain… I thought staying away was the right thing to do.”

  “Jeez, you’re both such tortured souls,” Cree grumbled, stepping over. Sitting down next to me on the floor, he sighed and said meditatively, “I know Wes wants to think he’s doing the right thing, keeping you away from our whacked-out destiny and the spirit world and the shadows or whatever, but…I think you and I both know what the real story is, underneath all that nobility crap. You guys have that in common – just for different reasons.”

  Looking up, I met Cree’s light blue eyes and blinked. “Oh. I didn’t think of it that way.”

  Standing up, he shook his head, then tugged something out of his jacket pocket. “Take a look at this. I’ll be waiting downstairs.” He dropped it and vanished.

  It was one of Wes’s sketchbooks.

  With shaking fingers, I reached out and grabbed it.

  Flipping it open, a shaky gasp exuded from me. Cree had dog-eared a page, I assumed, and it opened to a sketch of me asleep in bed. Heat and embarrassment flared in my stomach. It was so intimate, so sexy – like a lover’s caress. A whispered secret.

  But then a softness came over me. There was so much in this drawing, so much passion and dedication. Flipping through the other pages, I found other sketches of me – a doodle of me with my hands on my hips, one where I was glancing over my shoulder and laughing, and another where I was looking up at the sky. Now my heart was pounding hard in my chest. Oh, Wes.

  Then I came to one that was dated only a few days ago.

  It was me, holding the Moonstone, my eyes fierce, face serious, and curls caught in the wind. I seemed to be driving the shadows back. In the corner, the paper was wrinkled and worn, and Wes had written my name, tracing over it multiple times, till he broke through the paper.

  Standing up, I slapped it shut and grabbed at clean clothes. Once changed, I stashed the sketchbook in the pocket of the hoodie I now lived in and darted downstairs.

  Cree grinned at me as I raced into the entryway. “That didn’t take as long as I’d expected.”

  An hour later, we pulled up outside Sunset Cliffs Natural Park, and I whirled to Cree. “You guys have been in San Diego?”

  “Chill, sis,” Cree drawled at me like a surfer boy and set to pulling his hair into a ponytail. “Yes, the rest of the Hotshots and Hazel have been here, but me and Wes just got here a few days ago. Coupla days to relax on the beach before we scatter for the holidays. Come on.”

  I followed Cree down along the bluffs before he vanished between a crack in the rocks I’d never seen before. It was empty for a weekday afternoon, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Even walking, Cree was fast, and I had to hurry just to keep him in sight.

  When we got to the bottom, the sand around was empty for miles away. The ocean was free of boats, surfers, and swimmers. Nothing but a heaving expanse of long waves. Ahead of us, the sky was an opalescent blue and a lone figure sat on the sand, staring out at the horizon.

  My daydream about Wes suddenly hit me like an accusation and I hesitated.

  “Woman,” grit out Cree, catching my elbow, “I will carry you over to him and dump you on his lap. If I have to go another day with him moping around, I will throw myself off those cliffs.”

  I let Cree drag me forward, my heart thumping in my chest, and then softening as I saw the lines of Wes. Everything slumped down and in.

  “Please, leave me alone, Cree,” he said as we got closer. “Please.” His voice was colorless, tired, and empty. It made my eyes burn with tears.

  “Can’t. Got you an early Christmas present.” There was a roguish note in Cree’s voice, a teasing hint that Wes had better turn around fast. I suddenly had a feeling that Cree had given Wes something in the past – something that Wes had not appreciated or wanted in the slightest.

  “Cree, I swear to–” Wes snapped, getting to his feet in one fluid motion, and turning to us. His eyes went wide and I heard him suck in a breath.

  “I think this more than makes up for that other Christmas, right? I told ya I’d figure out a way.” Cree sounded buoyant, but also nervous.

  I could see why.

  Wes was rigid, his eyes dilated, and he hadn’t said a word.

  Neither had I.

  All I could see was the misery that had etched itself into his handsome face. Shadows under his eyes, his beard unruly, a certain haggardness to him that spoke of a lack of sleep and eating.

  “Quickfoot, didn’t I tell you not to get involved?” Wes suddenly said, his voice a low growl, and I sensed Cree was about to flee when suddenly Wes grabbed him a rough hug.

  For a moment Cree looked surprised, then he smiled, and winked at me over Wes’s shoulder. “Since when have I ever listened to you?” he asked.

  Letting Cree go, Wes punched him slightly harder than necessary on the side of the head. “Yeah, thanks for that,” he snorted. “And okay, you’re off the hook.”

  “Oh man, thank Old Man Coyote,” Cree exuded and fist pumped.

  “Cree,” Wes said, now turning to me, his face lit up with a smile I knew well, “you can leave now.” I saw Cree open his mouth and Wes growled. “Now, brother.”

  Laughing, Cree darted away across the sand, and then let out a howl.

  But then Wes filled all my senses. He was here. Right here. His hands were on my face and I was shaking from head to toe. Gripping his shirt, I tried not to cry, but tears were slipping free.

  “Wes, I missed you, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” I blubbered, breathing wet and heavily.

  Gently, Wes stroked my hair, letting my face fall against his chest, and I could hear the reverberations of his heart. “I missed you, too, Kay. And I know I told you I couldn’t be with you…”

  Rubbing my face with the hoodie sleeve, I stomped my foot and looked back at him. “That’s bullshit,” I exploded, and I jumped, a little shocked at myself. “I mean, we could, we are, and that’s that. We belong together.” Staring up at him, I took a deep breath and then said, “I love you, Wesley Young. And I am not going anywhere. Got that?”

  “Miss Feisty,” Wes’s hazel eyes were filled with longing and laughter. “I got it.”

  “Good,” I said, trying to sound calm and sexy, and failing miserably.

  “I was wondering if I’d ever see my hoodie again,” he said, tugging on the zipper, his eyes lighting up. “Wondering if I’d see it on you,” his smile became wry.

  “Oh, you can have it back,” I said, suddenly f
eeling ashamed for absconding with it. Never mind using it as a safety blanket. I hadn’t let it leave my sight in the last four weeks, wearing it almost every day.

  “Nah, it’s yours,” he said. “Or maybe we can share it.”

  “I’d like that. Oh, right, um, Cree stole this.” I tugged out the sketchbook.

  Wes looked shocked, then pissed, and then he let out a loud laugh. “He can’t resist… So what’d you think?” he asked, his fingers drawing lazy circles on my neck. “Pretty sexy, huh?”

  I nodded, throat tight, and then tried to lighten the mood. “I can’t believe Cree saw those.”

  Making a face, Wes said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get him back.” Then his expression became serious as took back the sketchbook and tucked it in a pocket. “Kalin, after everything you’ve been through, I’d get it if… I can’t lie and say I haven’t thought about you every day…but you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure,” I said, my heart pounding with joy. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’m just sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

  “You and the apologies,” he groaned, then he kissed me, fiercely. “God, I missed you, Kalin,” Wes murmured, his lips soft and gentle against mine. Between kisses he said, “I kept waking up, reaching for you, and having to remember you were gone. I’d dream of you, but it wasn’t enough. I love you, Kalin Montero. I love you, I love you…”

  “I love you, too,” I said back, feeling that ache in my chest vanish completely, and my heart sprung free like a bird winging across the sky. “Wherever you go, I’m going.”

  Wes pulled back, looking into my eyes, and then shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Looping my arms around his neck, I smiled as our noses brushed together. “Don’t say anything. You’ve said more than enough.” I affected a southern accent, whispering, “Shut up and kiss me, coyote. Or else I may just pine away right here.”

  And, laughing, Wes obliged.

  The adventure continues in Book Three!

  The Hotshot Brothers:

  Coyote Storm

 

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