by Tamsin Ley
“That’s a lot of blood.” Mae couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the stain on the floor.
Angie tried to think of an excuse, but all she could come up with was, “It’s not mine.”
Mae’s eyes widened. “Did you kill someone? Where is he?”
“He ran away.” At least she could tell the truth about that. “I think it may’ve been some creepy dude who came by yesterday wanting to buy my gargoyle.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Not yet. Thanks for the eggs.” Angie swept the carton out of Mae’s grip, torn between wanting to get Mae out of here and needing to act normal. She headed through the dining room to the kitchen to shove the eggs into the fridge.
“What? Why not?” Mae followed close behind, running a hand through her short hair as she scanned all the corners as if expecting an attack. “Did anything get stolen?
“I’m not sure yet,” Angie answered truthfully, holding open the kitchen’s side door. The less time spent inside, the better. “But a lot of stuff got broken. Come on. If I’m late, Robert will give me hell.”
Hurrying toward the wrought-iron gate, Angie had a hard time ignoring Sten as she passed him by. Was he watching her? She climbed into the passenger side of Mae’s pickup and pulled the door closed.
Mae slid in behind the wheel. “Wow, I can’t believe you had someone break in. Sheriff Rollands is going to be thrilled to have a case.” Mae shot her a sideways glance and Angie snorted. Everyone knew the sheriff hated anything that created paperwork. Mae started the engine. “I’ll come help you clean tonight.”
“That’s okay. It’s only the parlor. I can manage.” The last thing Angie wanted was Mae showing up while Sten was awake.
“That’s what friends are for.” She pulled away from the curb. “I’ll bring tequila.”
“No, really. You don’t need to come over.” Angie floundered for a believable excuse. “I have to harvest the seeds from my heirloom peas before the crows get them and I have tomato seeds fermenting that I need to sort and dry before they sprout.”
“Really? You’re going to leave that blood stain on your floor just to gather seeds? You know you can just buy those, right?” Mae down-shifted at the steepest part of the switchback and rounded the corner. “Bloodstains are hard to get out. I should know.” Mae was a nurse at the town’s only clinic and was always complaining about the bodily fluids she had to clean out of her clothes.
Angie put a hand against the dash to brace herself for the turn. “It’s not the same. My great grandma brought that variety with her from Pennsylvania.”
Mae shook her head. “You are a seriously crazy woman.”
Relieved at leaving the topic of the break-in behind, Angie laughed. “You know me well. Hey, did you eat yet? Let me out at the door and I’ll grab you a couple of pieces of bacon for the road.”
“If you’re offering bacon, it doesn’t matter if I ate yet or not.”
“And you call yourself a doctor.”
“Nurse Practitioner, thank you very much.”
Ahead, the road entered the streets of New Turnbull. The buildings were designed to look like the old west, lining Main Street with two-story facades and fancy wooden boardwalks instead of concrete. The diner’s plate-glass windows had gold scrollwork painted in the corners and an old-timey menu posted out front to attract tourists. Although it was barely seven a.m., the slanted parking out front held more than a handful of pickup trucks.
Mae pulled into an open space, and Angie hardly waited for the wheels to stop rolling before she was out on the pavement. “Be right back.”
Glancing inside the diner’s front window as she neared the door, she met Robert’s scowling gaze. He was pouring coffee for one of the regulars, and the cranky cook hated serving coffee. Apparently the new server was late.
She pushed past the hostess station, inhaling the peppery scent of breakfast sausage and patting one of the regulars on the shoulder as she passed. “Hey, Kyle.”
“Mornin’ Angie.”
Robert followed her into the kitchen. “You gotta fire that new girl.”
Angie raised a brow. Celia was the owner’s granddaughter, and no way was Angie going to step on toes there. “Not my job.”
He rolled a few sausages over on the grill. “Someone’s gotta talk to her, at least.”
“Well, it’s not going to be me.” She eyed the sausages. “Any bacon I could swipe? I gotta pay for my ride.”
Robert grinned. “You’ll talk to the new girl?”
Angie rolled her eyes. “I’ll mention it to Mrs. Hendricks when she comes in later.” Robert tossed two sausages onto a plate. Angie made a face. “Bacon?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.” He reached for a couple of eggs. “Hurry it up. Kyle’s been here twenty minutes already.”
Sighing, Angie took the sausages and hurried past the tables to Mae’s truck out front. Mae frowned at the sausages. “You promised bacon.”
Angie picked up a link and took a bite. “If you don’t want them…”
“Fine.” Mae reached out the window and snagged the other sausage. “I’ll pick you up after your shift.” Shifting into reverse, she headed down the street toward the clinic.
Back inside, Angie went through the first half of her shift on autopilot, thoughts consumed by imagining what Sten was doing back at the house. Her hand kept reaching for the pendant at her throat. Her father’d told her plenty of stories about his childhood and the family’s past, but the only mention of the gargoyle had been how it’d come with them from Europe two hundred years ago. Sten was their oldest family heirloom. And he was a living being. Could he really be that old?
Sometime around noon, Mrs. Hendricks came in, heading to her usual table near the window without waiting to be seated. As always, she was dressed far too well for their podunk town, hanging her Louis Vuitton handbag over the corner of her chair before she sat. Her hair had been freshly colored that brassy shade of red many women her age seemed to favor. Angie grabbed the coffee pot and headed over to fill her cup. “What can I get you for lunch today?”
“Turkey club, extra mayo.” Mrs. Hendricks used her manicured red nails to carefully open three creamers and poured them into her cup.
“Coming right up.” Angie turned to go but was halted by a hand on her arm.
Mrs. Hendricks had her smug Historical Society smile in place. “I have a wealthy benefactor asking for a personal tour of Old Turnbull. Would you mind if we dropped in for a look through your house later this afternoon?”
“That’s not a good idea.” Angie scrambled to think of a reason to say no. “I have a lot of clean up to do. I had a break in last night.” As soon as she said it, she regretted it.
“Oh, dear, you had a break-in?” Mrs. Hendricks crepe-papery eyes widened. “I just saw Sheriff Rollands, and he didn’t mention it.”
Angie faked a wide smile and waved a nonchalant hand in the air. “It was nothing. Just a few of my knick-knacks were broken.” She hated calling her heirlooms knick-knacks, but she didn’t want Mrs. Hendricks to be alarmed over anything she might consider of historical value. “I just need time to clean up.”
“Was the house damaged?” Mrs Hendricks pursed her lips. As the head of the Historical Society, she’d already cited Angie for taking too long to repair a broken window. Not that the rest of the ghost town didn’t look like shit, but whatever.
“The house is fine. And the vandals ran off.” Angie felt fairly proud of herself for thinking of that detail on the spur of the moment. “No need to file a report.”
Mrs. Hendricks let out an exasperated breath and reached around her chair for her purse. “I’m calling the sheriff. If there is one thing we won’t stand for here in Turnbull, it’s crime. You go on home, dear. I’ll have him meet you there.”
Much as Angie would like to go home, the last thing she needed was a visit from the sheriff. “I can’t leave, Mrs. Hendricks. Celia didn’t show up for her shift today.”
Mrs. Hendricks stiffened, blinking twice before frowning. “Well, I’ll just see to that nonsense right now.”
Angie backed away as the woman dialed her granddaughter. Robert would be pleased, and hopefully Mrs. Hendricks would forget all about calling the sheriff.
No such luck. When Angie brought the sandwich to the table, Mrs. Hendricks said, “Celia will be here any minute, dear. And I’ve let the sheriff know about the break-in. You get your things and go meet him at your house.”
Balling her fists at her sides, Angie nodded and retreated to the kitchen. At the grill, Robert’s usual scowl softened. “You okay?”
“I told Mrs. Hendricks about Celia.” Angie gave him a tight-lipped smile. “The girl is on her way in to take over. I have to go meet the sheriff at my place.”
“You in some sort of trouble?”
Robert came across as gruff, but he wasn’t a bad guy. She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’ll be in tomorrow.”
She hung her apron, grabbed her purse, and rushed outside before remembering she’d promised to bring food back for Sten. Shit. As she turned to go back inside to beg a plate of food, she nearly ran into Mr. York. He gave her an oily smile. “Just the person I was hoping to see.”
Straightening her shoulders, she shook her head. His stupid attempt to buy her house was the last thing she had time to think about. “Sorry, I have to go.”
She spun on her heel and strode down the boardwalk. Now not only would she have to walk home, she’d be forced to get food from the gas station mini-mart on the way. She bought two cans of baked beans, a package of hot dogs, and a loaf of bread. Not exactly the kind of home-cooked meal she’d imagined for Sten, but he’d liked dried beans last night, so this could only be an improvement.
Sweat was running down her sides by the time she reached the top of the first switchback on the hill, and she was feeling her lack of sleep in every muscle. She huffed past the old schoolhouse that now served as a pitiful excuse for a mining museum and rounded the corner onto what had once been Main Street in the old town. Ahead, parked just outside her wrought-iron fence, the sheriff’s Bronco waited.
Shit. She’d hoped to beat him there and throw a rug or something over the blood stain. She picked up her pace, pointedly keeping her gaze off of her gargoyle as she passed through the yard. Rollands was kicked back on her porch swing, hat tilted to cover his face, hands clasped over his scrawny belly.
She moved quietly up the steps, hoping to sneak past him before he knew she was there, but he lifted the brim of his hat with one finger. “Thought you’d be here a while ago.”
“I had to walk.” She attempted a smile, holding up the grocery bag. “Give me a second to put this away and I’ll be right out.” Maybe she could throw a towel over the stain, or better yet, give him a report without letting him inside.
He rose, hooking both thumbs into his belt loops. “Already took a peek through the glass.” He twitched his head toward the parlor’s bay window without breaking eye contact. “Looks like you had quite a night last night.”
Her stomach dropped. She hadn’t even considered he might look through the windows. “The intruder ran off. No need to worry.”
“Pretty good-sized blood stain in there. I’m going to need to have a look.”
He’d already seen the blood stain, so what did she have to lose? Nodding, she led the way up the steps and unlocked the front door, leading him into the ransacked parlor.
Rollands stood looking over the mess with his hands on his hips. “Can you describe the guy?”
She shook her head, trying to remember the events of last night. “It was dark. I yelled out that I had a gun, and when I came downstairs, something huge lunged at me. So I fired. Then the intruder ran out of the open door.”
Rollands pulled his phone from his breast pocket and took several photos of the mess. “He broke your sofa? Must’ve been a really big fellow.”
“Yeah. And he broke a bunch of my figurines.” She pointed to the half-empty curio cabinet before realizing her mistake. Sten had eaten the ceramics, so she had no proof they’d even existed, let alone been broken. She picked up the one she intended to glue back together. “See?”
“Anything taken?”
“I don’t think so, or I’d’ve called you.”
The sheriff seemed to be appeased by her answer and tucked his phone back into his breast pocket. “I haven’t had any reports of someone coming in with a gunshot wound.” He pulled a swab kit from his back pocket and dabbed at the stain. “I’ll need to give a sample to the lab to see if it’s human.”
The pressure in Angie’s chest eased. The blood isn’t human. This could be the solution to everything. “Could it have been a bear? I was exhausted from gardening and might’ve left my front door ajar.”
He scratched his head. “Coulda been. You said it was dark. And a couple of hikers reported seeing one last week.” He stepped over one of the broken sofa legs and moved toward the door. “You want to file a report?”
Angie found herself shaking her head, for once glad the sheriff didn’t like paperwork.
“Well, let me know if you’re missing any valuables.”
“Of course.” She beamed at him. “Thank you.”
She saw him to the foyer and onto the porch, watching him drive away in a cloud of dust. Finally, she was alone with her gargoyle.
6
Angie pulled the dry husks of her grandmother’s heirloom peas off the withering vines and shook them into the jar in her heirloom seed box, then moved on to divide her peonies. Mom used to grow the fragrant pink flowers next to the kitchen window, but the contractor who’d fixed her roof had crushed most of the crowns. She’d missed the cotton candy scent this spring, but luckily one plant was enough to reestablish the bed within a few years.
She puttered around outside until the sun was below the horizon and it became too difficult to see. Sten hadn’t moved at all, not one flutter of an eyelid as far as she could tell. Could he see and hear her while he was a statue? She positioned herself directly in front of his stony face. “Hey. You awake in there?”
No response.
She put a hand against his cheek, staring into each of the blank gray eyes in turn. He’d said he healed while in this state. Perhaps he’d been more gravely injured than he thought and needed more time. She pressed her forehead against his. “I’m going inside to make food.”
Not that opening baked beans and cutting up hot dogs before throwing everything in the microwave would take a lot of time, but she didn’t want any distractions when he came inside. He had a lot more to tell her, not to mention his last words about wanting more than food. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way his body had felt against hers. Inside hers. She wanted to do that again. And again.
Thinking of getting naked with him made her realize how sweaty and dusty she was, so she headed up to the shower. She’d just rinsed the lather from her hair when she heard a heavy footstep enter the room. On the other side of the stall’s hazy glass, a large figure blocked the light from her bedroom doorway.
“Sten?” She turned off the water and cracked open the stall door for a peek.
Sten stood in the doorway, huge and gray, emerald eyes glittering and tail twitching. He took a halting step forward as if fighting his own body. “You are naked.”
“Well, yeah. I’m in the shower.” Her gaze lowered to his waistline, and she swallowed at the sight of his engorged cock. “You’re naked, too.”
He took another step. “The urge to mate with you is strong.”
Heat flooded between her thighs and she sucked in a small breath, clinging to the edge of the stall door for support. “I thought you’d want to eat first.”
“I do.” He took one more stride and pulled the door from her grasp, swinging it wide. “But your arousal is impossible to ignore. I would like to taste it.”
She gaped up at him as he reached in and encircled her waist with one huge arm, pulling her from the stream of water.
His rock-hard body against hers made her tingle in all the right places. She found herself nodding, and he carried her back into the bedroom. He lowered her onto the bed and urged her onto her back, planting one knee between her thighs before brushing his lips against hers. “Humans call this kissing, correct?”
Her skin tingled from his touch, and the strangely salty-sweet flavor flooded her mouth. “A real kiss lasts longer. Let me show you.”
She put her hand behind his neck and pulled him close, opening her mouth against his. He entwined his tongue with hers until she was left panting. For someone unfamiliar with kissing, he sure was good at it. He moved his knee against her pussy, rocking against her with an exquisite pulsing rhythm. She ground herself against him as he lavished her mouth with attention. With one hand, he cupped her breast, kneading it until her nipple couldn’t possibly get any tighter. Then he broke the kiss and moved his mouth to claim her areola.
The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, and she cried out, tangling both hands into the hair at the base of his neck. He moved to the other breast, suckling and caressing until she was on fire. She bucked her hips against his rock-hard thigh, needing more. In a move so swift it shocked her, he dropped to his knees on the floor, pulling her hips toward his face. His flat, wide tongue smoothed a languid stroke over her opening before delving into the cleft with a determination that made her back arch. She cried out, “Oh!”
His tongue made a lazy circle around her clit, easing her folds aside as he lapped against her pussy like a cat enjoying cream. Her orgasm rose with a suddenness that made her eyes fly open, and just as she was about to topple over the edge, he plunged the tip of his tail inside her. She made a strangled noise, fists clutching the bedspread to either side of her as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Oh, good lord, his tail. And he knew how to use it. Wave after wave of searing pleasure shook her, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as he sent her skyrocketing beyond anything she’d ever experienced.