They ignored me completely and bolted through the doorway and down the hall. “Dammit, guys!” I hissed as they barreled down on Richard's sleeping form.
Richard groaned sleepily as Eli's large form piled on top of him, tail wagging so hard his whole body moved with each to and fro, and he began frantically licking Richard's face.
“Matthew?” he mumbled groggily as Wallach climbed up next to his brother and began running in little circles on Richard's hip and flank. “Huh?”
With a hand to my mouth, I tried to stifle a laugh as I went over and began to pull them off.
“Guys,” I said, laughing as I forced Eli to the floor, “leave him alone, he's not even awake yet.”
Richard wiped a hand down his face, sitting up, his burly, lightly haired chest heaving as he yawned. He scratched lazily, blinking the sleep away.
“Morning,” he said, stretching with his arms over his head, showing off a couple military inspired tattoos on his side and upper arms. Skulls on one arm, identification tags on his ribs.
“Uh,” I said absentmindedly as my eyes traveled down his chiseled form, past his massive pecs to his washboard abs that looked great even at seven in the morning. “Yeah.”
Wow.
He looked up, met my eyes, and realized I was staring. He gave me a lopsided grin, followed by a small blush, and went to cover himself with a blanket.
“Sorry,” he muttered, “not used to sleeping on couches.”
I giggled and smiled back a little as I grabbed Eli and pulled him off towards the back door.
“It's okay,” I said over my shoulder as I guided Eli and Wallach out onto the deck so they could go to the bathroom. “I’m making coffee, if you'd like some.”
“Yep,” he replied with a yawn. “Coffee sounds good.”
I shut the door behind the dogs and turned back around just as Richard stood from the couch, wearing just his boxer briefs. He wasn't facing me, and went to pull his clothes on from where he'd draped them over the coffee table, but now it was my turn to blush as I took in his full form, sculpted muscles, and his perfect, full, muscular ass.
I carefully shut my mouth and took a deep breath as I turned back to the kitchen and I fumbled around for a coffee mug. Well, this had turned into one hell of a way to start my day.
“What time do you normally head into the gallery again?” he asked from the living room as I began pouring my cup of morning coffee.
“Around seven forty-five, eight o'clock,” I replied, careful to keep my eyes focused on the hot, black liquid filling up my ceramic mug, and not on the hot, military veteran security professional in my living room. “That fine with you?”
“It's all up to you,” he replied as he walked into the kitchen, the floor creaking a little as he came up behind me on my right. “We're getting paid to follow you, remember?”
I didn't turn around, a mental image of his nearly naked form filling my mind. I knew if I did, I'd just start blushing again. Instead, I bit my lip and turned to my left, heading for the refrigerator to get the half-and-half.
“Uh, yeah,” I said as I pulled open the fridge, letting the cold air refresh my heated face. “Right.”
Behind me, I heard him run the faucet and squeeze some hand soap in his hand.
It had been a while since I'd seen a man undressed like that. It had been even longer since I'd seen one that looked that damn good undressed. I needed to collect myself. Stooped over with my head almost completely in the fridge, I took a deep cleansing breath, waiting a moment until I felt a little more in control.
“You okay?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice as he dried his hands off on a dish towel.
I grabbed the half-and-half and closed the fridge. “Yup,” I said, my voice more confident than I felt. “Why wouldn't I be?” I looked into his deep gray eyes, his tussled blonde hair mussed on top of his head.
He nodded, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Anything you need me to do around the house while you're getting ready?”
I shook my head and poured a little of the milky mixture into my cup. “No,” I replied before taking a sip. “Pretty self-sufficient. Anything you need?”
“A shower,” he replied sheepishly, “if that's fine by you. If not, I can get Peter to take over on watch when we get to the gallery, and I can head home to take one. Doesn't make a difference to me.”
“As long as you don't care about froo-froo shampoos and conditioners, be my guest.”
“You got the little soaps that look like decorative flowers and stuff?”
“Just body wash,” I said, smiling and rolling my eyes.
“Won't be like home, then,” he said with a frown of mock disappointment. “But, yeah, sounds great.”
As I sipped my coffee and headed back to my bedroom, Eli and Wallach began to scratch at the backdoor. Richard let them in before I could even mention anything or ask him to do it for me.
With the sound of my bodyguard playing with my two fuzzy children, I set my coffee down on top of my dresser and began pulling out my clothes for the day. It was so strange to realize how easy this had been, how he just seemed to fit, better than any man that had ever stayed here.
Maybe it was because we hadn't slept together the night before. Maybe it was because this was just a professional relationship and nothing was expected. Whatever it was, I kind of liked it.
I almost wished someone would have threatened my life ages ago. Then I would have met Richard even sooner.
Almost.
But what was I even thinking? A guy like him, with a body and a smile like that, would have his pick of the women in town. He wouldn't want anything to do with me.
Would he?
Chapter Twelve - Richard
The Rock awoke around us, with most of the shops on Main Street beginning to open. From the little mail and shipping place across the street, where you could send packages and keep your own post office box, to the little coffeehouse down on the corner, signs slowly flipped from closed to open, as summer songbirds fluttered from tree to tree, their singing mingling with the all-weather tires rolling down the road.
Jessica and I both parked on Main about a block apart and walked up to the front door of the gallery together. Resting on the sidewalk in front of the entrance was a medium-sized, plain cardboard box with only the address for the Curious Turtle printed on one side.
Jessica bent down to pick it up as we approached, but I stopped her from grabbing it.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
“No return address. No postage paid mark. Someone must have dropped this overnight.”
She bit her lips and took a step back. “Do you think it's, like, a bomb or something?”
I sniffed the air, careful so she wouldn't notice, but only smelled a deep hint of coffee and some kind of strange spiciness, like black pepper or cayenne. It didn't smell like any bomb I'd ever encountered or read about, so I just shook my head.
“What is it, then?”
“Dunno,” I said, reaching down to pick it up. I straightened up and hefted it in one hand, feeling the contents shift in a decidedly non-mechanical way. “I really have no idea.”
Just then, we heard a car door open across the street, and we both turned our attention to it.
A young woman who looked to be in her late teens came bustling out of a little blue Subaru parked in front of the mailbox storefront. A military surplus backpack was slung over her shoulder, and her bright red hair was in full crazy mod, sticking out all over with bangs covering an eye. She was taller than average, especially with her old Doc Martens on. Silver rings pierced her left eyebrow and lower lip, and she wore jeans with one black and one white pant leg.
“Hey,” she said in a little-girl pixie voice as she crossed the street and came up to us, her voice slurred with sleep. She dragged a hand back through her wild ginger hair as she came to a stop in front of us. “I'm here, Richard. Where's that fax machine you wanted me to look at?”
Jessica glanced
up at me, then back to our IT person. “Excuse me? Can I help you?”
“This is our resident computer geek,” I explained with a little smile. “Lacy, meet Jessica Long, our client. Jessica, this is Lacy Richter. You met her grandmother, Gen, yesterday.”
“I'm here for that fax machine of yours,” Lacy said with a tired grin, followed by a deep yawn and a smack of her lips. “And anything else we need to do.”
“Uh, sure,” Jessica said with a bewildered shake of her head, pushing open the door and letting us both in behind her.
It wasn't that Lacy was completely out of place in a town like Enchanted Rock, it was that she looked so out of character outside ski season. Plenty of kids like her hit the slopes every year, but they tended to be the ones who were working the different resorts in the area. This time of year, it was mostly camping, hunting, rafting, and hiking that made up the tourist season, and those were usually a different crowd.
“Sorry, I didn't realize you worked with Richard,” Jessica said to Lacy as we crossed the gallery and headed for the back office. “Guess I just haven't had enough coffee yet.”
“S'alright,” Lacy said with an easy smile and another yawn. “I'm used to it, especially in this business.”
“We keep trying to tell her she needs to follow some sort of dress code,” I added, giving Lacy a look. “But she won't listen since she's mostly in the office and clients generally never meet her.”
“I really just don't want to wear slacks to work,” she whispered to Jessica with a sly grin. “Or heels.”
Jessica grinned back at her as she let us into the office. “Don't worry, I know the feeling.”
I just rolled my eyes, my nose twitching at the package still in my hands.
“This it?” Lacy asked as she went over to the fax machine.
Jessica nodded. “Yeah.”
“Mind if I take a look at the printout?”
My client gave her the faxed printouts with the same phrase repeated over and over.
Lacy looked over the paper, frowning. “Friggin' nutjob, huh?”
I shrugged as I set the package down on Jessica's desk. “Looks that way, I'd say.”
Lacy pulled out her laptop, took a seat in one of the chairs, and began booting up the computer as Jessica went around and took her seat at the desk.
“Well,” Lacy said, stifling another yawn, “I went over the call records, like you and Peter requested. Turns out the calls did start right after Blake Axelrod died. The day after, to be exact.”
I nodded as I sat down in the seat next to her. “Anything else you found out?”
“Started putting together some info on his nephew, Ms. Long's new partner.”
“And?” Jessica asked before I had a chance to.
“Gonna be honest, Ms. Long-”
“Jessica, please. Ms. Long makes me sound like I could be your mom.”
Lacy grinned, glancing back and forth between us. “Fair enough. Well, this new Axelrod is not the same as the old Axelrod. Super sleazy. Got an arrest record longer than the Enchanted Rock phone book. Trouble throughout Colorado, down into Texas, and even New Mexico.”
“We still have a phone book?” Jessica asked, raising her eyebrows.
“I know, right? Well, this guy's got one that's almost a page long. Fights, aggravated assault, even a stalking charge.”
“How's he not doing time, then?” I asked.
“I said arrest record,” Lacy replied as she began to type. “Not convictions. He doesn't have a single one.”
I shifted in my chair, crossed my legs. “And no warrants or anything?”
“Not that I could find, but I've only gone through five or six state databases. He might have ones out there, but so far there's nothing in Colorado.”
I nodded and glanced over to Jessica, who had gotten up to find a box-cutter for the package that was still sitting on her desk.
“So, Wyatt Axelrod isn't exactly someone I want to be in business with?”
“I sure as fuck wouldn't,” Lacy said with a shake of her head as she picked up her laptop and went over to the printer. She attached a USB cord to connect the two. “But, that's just me. Maybe you like your business partners on the wild side.”
“Thanks,” Jessica said as she found the box-cutter and began to slice through the packing tape on top, “but no thanks. I prefer mine silent and ordinary, like Wyatt's uncle.” She sliced through the package and pulled open the lid.
Immediately, a foul smell filled the office. It was so foul, I was astounded I hadn't been able to smell it when it was just sitting on the front steps of the gallery.
“What the hell is that?” Lacy said, disgusted. The box-cutter tumbled from Jessica's fingers and clattered on the tiled floor beneath her desk, as she brought a hand to her mouth.
I jumped to my feet, pushing the chair back with my sudden movement as I leaned in to see what was in the box. I looked down, my stomach roiling as I caught a glimpse.
A strangled sob escaped Jessica's lips as she took a step back and went running from the room, her face tinted green like she was about to lose her coffee from this morning.
Inside the box was a turtle, flipped over on its back, a butcher knife stabbed through its softly scaled belly.
“Holy shit” Lacy said, cringing. “Who the fuck would do this?”
They must have vacuum sealed the thing in to keep the smell of rot from escaping somehow, and now it filled the room. It was a kind of stink that almost had a tactile sensation, even to a human.
“I don't know,” I replied as I grabbed the box and looked down into it, breathing through my mouth to try and keep the scent from overpowering all my other senses. “But, whoever it is, Peter was right. This is definitely escalating.”
Out in the hallway, I heard Jessica heaving in the restroom, filling the toilet bowl as she sobbed, gagging.
I glanced to Lacy. “Go check on her? Please?”
With her hand covering her mouth, a look of foul disgust on her face, she nodded. “What are you going to do with that poor thing?”
“I don't know,” I said with a sigh. “Take it out back for now? Maybe later Peter or I can get a scent off it.” Immediately, though, I realized they'd covered the whole thing in peppers and other spices intended to defeat a dog's tracking ability. It would probably do the same to me.
Lacy just nodded and headed out into the hallway, knocked on the bathroom, and asked Jessica if she was okay.
Alone in the office, I stared down into the box.
Did they somehow know I was a shifter? No, that was crazy! Who would have that kind of information and not confront us with it? The stalker had probably just been trying to prevent Sheriff Peak from using his K9 unit from tracking the source. I wrinkled my nose at the corpse inside, the smell of rancidity, black pepper, and capsaicin filling my nose.
Whoever had done this, they'd certainly just thickened the plot—to kill a turtle for their own sick games? What kind of piece of shit psycho would do that? Well, probably the same kind who would go through this much trouble to scare a small business owner who was just trying to get by with her art gallery.
One thing I knew, though, was that I was going to find this bastard. And I was going to teach him or her a lesson about stalking and threatening innocent people.
Chapter Thirteen - Jessica
My eyes were red and puffy from the tears I'd cried while I, in a very unladylike manner, puked up my morning coffee. Thank God I'd skipped breakfast.
All I could think about, though, was that poor tortoise in the box. I leaned down and drank some more water from the running faucet and rinsed my mouth out.
“Sure you're going to be okay?” Lacy asked again through the door.
I smiled. At least the people at Frost Security were kind and caring. I don't know if I'd have been able to deal with all this without Richard by my side or Lacy, whom I'd just met. She seemed sweet with that kind of innocence you just can't fake.
“Yes,” I calle
d back, wiping my mouth daintily with some folded up toilet paper, “I'll be fine, thank you.”
“Okay,” Lacy said, pausing. “Richard and the guys,” she continued, “they're really good at this. Like, I know computers and stuff, but the rest of the guys, they're really good at everything else. The best. I promise. If you knew them the way I do, you wouldn't be worried for a second.”
I smiled despite my stomach churning again, as the image of the poor tortoise reentered my mind. It hadn't been the smell that had gotten me. I was used to that from my time in school, from dealing with dissections of lab samples, and having to inspect beached whales during my brief internship in California. No, what really bugged me the most was the simple idea that someone somehow felt strongly enough about me that they'd be willing to kill a poor, defenseless animal just to make a point, to frighten me.
I shook my head again as I looked in the mirror. “Don't worry,” I told Lacy. “I'll be okay. It was just a shock, that's all.”
Through the bathroom door, I heard the rear entrance of the gallery open and close.
“Richard just took the turtle out back.”
“Tortoise,” I corrected. “It's a tortoise, not a turtle.”
“Oh. Right. Um, he just took the tortoise out back.”
“He's not throwing the poor guy away, is he?”
“No, I don't think so. Why?”
I brushed my hair back and tucked my long locks behind my ears. “I just don't want him to end up in a dumpster somewhere, that's all,” I said as I unlocked the door to find Lacy standing there in the hallway, arms crossed, hip cocked out to the side. “I'd like to bury him. I have a spot out near my cabin.”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I'll make sure he knows. Believe me, he'll respect that.”
“Think so?”
“He's, um, kind of a tree hugger, I guess.”
I laughed. “Really? Doesn't seem the type.”
“He'll surprise you,” she said, smiling a little bit.
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