Call Me Miz (6 page)

“You read minds too,” he muttered bleakly.

“Just a stray thought here and there,” she answered, slipping her hand from his.

Stunned, he stared at her as she returned to him what he’d barely realized he’d lost.
She took over my mind and I couldn’t stop her.
Instead of being madder than hell, he had the impulse to hug her, hold her.

“It’ll fade,” she said dryly. “By tomorrow morning you’ll think it was just your imagination.” She smoothed her finger along his hairline and then touched a spot in the middle of his forehead. He stood there rooted to the floor and couldn’t do a damn thing when she left.

He didn’t shake it off until the sound of her Harley was halfway down the lane. But he didn’t forget a damned thing. His cat saw to that. “Nice trick, Miz Hess,” he growled.

He grabbed his carry pack, hooked the tabs around his neck, opened the door, tied the rope in place and shifted into jaguar form. He was pissed. Inside him his beast roared. Thomas grasped the rope with feline teeth and pulled the wood barrier closed.
The door doesn’t shut until I say it shuts, Miz.

Then his jaguar took control and he bounded off the porch, cutting through brush and up the tree where he’d start his journey. He paralleled her trip down the dirt road and she turned on pavement. He waited to move to the trees on the other side until she was nothing but a receding hum in the distance. Once across, he took to the branches, his jaguar reducing the six-mile separation to three. He was in the willow across from her cabin when she rode in.

* * * * *

Miz hadn’t been home more than five minutes before a truck came bouncing up the road behind her. She stopped outside, her stance signaling militant hostility when Hank Wyatt climbed out. The jaguar tensed, ready to pounce and rip the other male apart.

Thomas grabbed hold of his beast, fighting the rage that threatened to consume both of them. He forced himself to listen to the man below.

“Miz, you’re needed,” Wyatt said.

“No.” She shook her head and started to turn away. Wyatt grabbed her arm. She tugged at it, trying to pull away. “No, I said.”

Thomas expected her to whip out some of her magic or just turn loose with a kick to the asshole’s groin. He was disappointed when she didn’t.

“I told you last time, Wyatt, not to ask again. I’m not some goddamn lie detector machine.” But from the slump of her shoulders, Thomas knew she was caving in. The jaguar wanted to leap on the other male and rend him into little bits.

“That you’re not,” Wyatt agreed. “Used a lie detector when I was in the military—you’re better.”

“Dammit, Hank, I’m tired. And if I wasn’t, I’ve still got no reason to do for you or yours.”

Thomas dug jaguar claws in the tree branch he rested on.
She called him Hank.
Neither cat nor man liked that. The tree swayed. He froze.

Wyatt’s head came up and he swept the clearing with his glance, studying the underbrush below the willow. His nostrils flared, scenting the air as his gaze traveled upward.

Seeing his distraction, Miz twisted in his grip and landed an old-fashioned kick to Wyatt’s knee. He grunted pain and grabbed her around the waist, carrying her toward the truck. “This time, Miz, you don’t get to say no. You’re needed.”

Thomas could see she was mad not hurt. She snarled and kept trying to land punches as they neared the truck. But still it was more insults she threw at him and no magic at all. “You reek, Wyatt.”

“You smell good too, Miz. Like sex. Where you been tonight?”

She slapped at him. “Like it’s any of your business. Jesus, you stink like wet dog and something else. What the hell you been doing? Rolling with the hounds?”

Had he not been suffering from mating mania, Thomas would have recognized the scent immediately.

Wolf—pungent, strong and undeniable.

Chapter Six

Miz hunched in the cab of the truck, her back turned toward Hank Wyatt. She was so mad she could spit. First off, her magic didn’t work on him, it never had. She wanted to do all kinds of nasty things to him right now—burn his hair off his head, make his skin crawl, sizzle his toes. But she couldn’t.

Second of all, she didn’t want to go and force some poor sucker to spill his guts on command. It was sickening. She’d have another round of hate shoved at her and she didn’t need it in her life. She’d already had enough.

But Hank didn’t care. He’d been using her as his personal truth finder for years. At first, the locals believed her to be a snitch, reporting any thefts or crimes to him. It didn’t make her popular but at least they’d treated her as if she was human.

But one night Hank had pulled Eldon Brown’s younger brother into what he called his enforcement room, slapped his hand in Miz’s, and Bobby Jr. had blabbed every item he’d stolen and named his accomplices.

The upshot was, Bobby stayed out of prison but the family had to replace all the goods or pay for what couldn’t be returned. Eldon had been all set to get married and it carved a chunk out of his savings to keep his kid brother out of jail.

It was take it or leave it. Hank was hard that way. He didn’t put up with anyone causing trouble that might bring outsiders in to mix in local business. He threatened to haul Bobby to the courthouse himself if the family didn’t cough up. They did.

It should have ended there. But Bobby had squalled about her being in the room during the
talk
with Hank. Said she was part of the interrogation. Afterward, Eldon had caught her having a beer at Milo’s Place and decided to fuck with her over his no-good brother’s thieving. That was back when she drank more than she had sense.

He’d called her a maggot, a goddamn piece of slime that sucked life off others. She’d explained to him for the third time that she wasn’t a snitch and he’d spit on her. That did it. Too drunk to control her temper, she’d grabbed his hand.

“Eldon, tell your fiancée where you were and what you did last night.” Miz had seen his truck parked outside Mary Hart’s place and Mary Hart wasn’t his bride-to-be. Given Eldon’s propensity for screwing around, it had been a sure bet.

Well after he’d crooned about fucking Mary all night and into the morning, Miz had let him go. He’d been silly stupid, grinning as though he’d won the lottery. His fiancée dumped a beer on his head and flushed his ring down the toilet.

But everyone else stood around and looked at Miz. She’d made herself a pariah. Who the hell wanted to hang around a truth-sayer? Jesus.

She didn’t like her ability. Didn’t enjoy using it except once in a while like earlier today when she’d put the fly fisherman in his place. She should be worried about that damn man too. She knew better than letting anyone in on her secret.

He’d just been so… She didn’t know what he’d been. Besides being pissed at Hank, she wanted to kick Thomas Hunter’s ass too, just for being so sexy she couldn’t get him out of her mind. And speaking of minds, what the hell was that shit? She’d never read anyone’s thoughts before. His had been loud and clear.

And the cretin had bitten her neck in the same spot as the cat the night before. She covered the spot with her hand, feeling the pulse of warmth that seemed to radiate from the mark.
If the cat bite didn’t already do it, the
damned maniac probably infected me with some rare disease.

She thought of his strength when he’d incapacitated her, literally wrapping her in power. And the way he moved with stealth and intelligence made her envious. She hadn’t even been able to keep Hank from shoving her in the truck.
Just once in my life I’d like to have someone like Thomas fighting on my team.

Hank turned up a lane, not going where she expected at all. He usually took her to his house on the outskirts of town.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ve got a place up by the timberline.”

“Who am I torturing today?” she asked, turning from the monotony of thick pine to thick head instead. Hank did whatever Hank thought best. It was odd how nobody ever really argued with him—except maybe her—and she mostly avoided him. It hadn’t always been that way.

She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. Heck, he’d been her first… She almost called it a fuck but changed her mind. He’d been her first. She’d thought they had something going.

He was older than her, but not by that much. Ten years back, when she was seventeen and he was twenty-four, it hadn’t seemed that much. She’d grown up fast. He’d smoothed her way. They were sort of a couple. Then he’d found out what she could do and everything changed. Maybe if she’d never healed that damned wolf, things would have been different.

She tried not to think about it. Her life had pretty much been shit before it happened but afterward it had been pure hell. He’d just stopped coming around. Stopped talking to her. For a long time he’d even quit looking at her. Then she’d gotten stupid, desperate. He’d been her best friend, her first boyfriend. Well, actually, her only boyfriend. She hadn’t wanted to let it go without trying to fix things.

She’d gone to his house, knocked on his door and he’d let her in, but he’d been different. She could feel it. She’d apologized for not telling him about her
gift
. She’d wanted him to know it all, every damn quirk Mother Nature had cursed her with. So she’d blabbed with tears running down her face, bawling like a kid. And he’d listened.

Then he’d laughed, but it had been a hard sound. “You’ll come in handy. Thanks for telling me. I’ll be in touch.” And he’d ushered her out the door.

It was the last damn time she’d cried. He’d spoken true though. He’d found plenty of ways to use her touch. “Did I fry Donnie’s brains?” she asked. It seemed eons ago but had been only yesterday when she’d healed the coal truck driver.

“Nope.” He turned and looked at her. “This time you did good.”

He didn’t volunteer any more information about Donnie and she didn’t ask. She turned back to watching the pines as the heavy truck climbed the mountain road. She studied the trees, startled to see something leap from one branch to another.

“What kind of big cats live in these woods?” she asked Hank.

“For a country girl, Miz, you don’t know much about the place you live.” He laughed then added, “Bobcats, lynx, a few mountain cougars and pumas drifting in from the west. I like to think they’ve all found a sanctuary here and are safe from men.”

She looked back at him and frowned. “Well, I just saw a big something in the trees over there. Another good reason why I don’t like the woods—there’s nasty wild things running around I don’t plan to deal with.”

She started to tell him about her personal cat experience but stopped herself, changing the subject instead. “For your information, I’ve been busy. It took me two years of cleaning houses to pay my way through massage school.”

“I’m real proud of you, Miz. You’ve got your own business and home. You’re set for life.” The glance he gave her assured her she should be thankful for his approval. He was a jerk set on getting his way.

Well he could stuff his way. She felt as if a band of steel was pressing against her chest. She was sick of having her life interfered with, sick of living among people who despised her and sick of him. “I’m thinking of selling my patch of ground and moving.”

“You got a place in mind? Something closer to your shop?” She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He was probably already sifting through real estate to suggest.

“No, I’m thinking of moving out of state—maybe somewhere near the ocean.” Actually, she hadn’t been thinking about it, at least not consciously. But the idea sprang into her head fully developed at that moment.

“Well now I’d hate to see that happen.” His voice was a gruff reminder that he’d not be able to use her if she was that far away.

“I just bet you would,” she answered, incapable of keeping the bitter edge from her tone.

He drove the truck up another steep grade and then did a sharp right turn and drove straight toward a stand of trees.

“Are you nuts?” Miz yelped, fumbling with the handle on her door. He clicked the locks and sped up. She’d just snapped the seatbelt on and scrunched defensively when a green screen of moving trees opened in front of them. The truck sped through and the fake foliage swung shut behind them.

“What the fuck was that? And where in the hell am I?” Miz was unbuckled and ready to fight. She might not be able to take him but by God he’d wear her scratches when all was done.

“Settle down,” he said, clicking the lock button, freeing her to open the door. She did, sliding out fast to stand in the middle of…nowhere. Trees.

The monsters don’t wear brands on their heads saying “I’m a born killer”.
She looked at Hank. “This is going to get ugly, isn’t it?”

He snorted. “You always were a drama queen. I brought you here to do a healing. One of the deep kind.”

She stared at him hard. “Who’s hurt and why aren’t they in the hospital?” It had to be someone on the run. She shook her head. “I’m not aiding and abetting a criminal. Kidnap a real doctor.”

Thomas didn’t know what in hell was going on, but Miz and Wyatt were in a standoff. He didn’t like anything about the situation. The screen hiding the entrance to the enclave would fool anyone but another shifter. He’d been over it before the truck pulled through.

The den would be someplace hidden but close. He kept his eyes on Miz; he’d scout later. She was adamant she wasn’t
laying hands
on anyone and Wyatt was just as determined she was. Thomas decided to listen to the argument before he allowed his jaguar to kill the bastard.

“I need you to heal an animal. A wolf—like you did before.”

She got pissed, well, more pissed. Thomas could see she was ready to boil. He didn’t have any trouble hearing her words.

“Why you goddamned sonovabitch. You motherfucking excuse for a human being. You ditched me for that. I was too weird for you. Now you want me to do my healing thingy to help you out? Go to hell.”

“It wasn’t like that. You don’t have a clue what it was about. And yes, you’re going to do your healing thingy and you’re going to do it right now.”

They were once lovers.
Thomas planned the number of pieces he’d tear Wyatt’s body into. Wyatt put his hand on her arm and the jaguar snarled inside.
She’s ours. Kill him.

Before he could pounce on Wyatt and tear his head from his body, Miz said, “No. It’s you who doesn’t have a clue what it was about. I killed that wolf. You left me standing in the woods and disappeared and the damned thing came charging at me. I killed it, or damned close. I laid my precious hands on that beast and took it to the ground.

“Then I felt so sick at what I’d done I brought it back, but I could tell it wasn’t right. It staggered when it ran off. I think I cooked the poor thing’s brain.”

“Reminisce later. Right now I’ve got another poor thing for you to cook.” He pulled on her arm and Miz glared up at him.

“When I get finished today, take me home and that’s it. My business isn’t your business. Understand?”

Wyatt nodded and agreed. The sonovabitch was lying through his teeth. Thomas wondered why Miz didn’t grab his hand or do her truth voodoo on him. It didn’t matter, there was no way she was going into a den of werewolves.

The jaguar backed down the limb and leaped to a spot in another tree, than another. In two minutes he was in man form. In five he had his clothes out of the knapsack he’d carried around his neck and was dressed in sweats and tennis shoes, walking toward the two people in the clearing.

Miz had about given up the idea of escape when her gaze shifted to the edge of the woods. It was impossible but true. Thomas stood in the shadows of the pines staring at her. Their eyes met. His gaze was piercing, fierce. She felt as if her very own private army had arrived.

Well, all righty then.
Hank didn’t seem nearly as scary. He followed her glance and said to Thomas, “Wondered when you were going to come down from the tree.”

“Flimsy barrier, I saw right through it.” Thomas’ lip curled in a sneer as he answered.

Miz stared, mesmerized as Thomas walked toward them, his stride as powerful and sinuous as any predator that walked the earth. He was sleek, his muscles rippling, sexy. A tide of possessive pride swept through her.
Mine.

Hank must have knocked her around on the way to the truck more than she’d thought. She shook her head, trying to clear the sound of purring in her ears.

“Shep poking his nose in my business again?” Hank’s voice was gravelly, rough. Almost a low growl.

“Seems like it,” Thomas answered. When he got within five feet of them he stopped.

Hostility bristled between the two men. “You kill other scouts he’s sent or is it something personal?” He looked from Miz to Hank.

Hank shot right back, “She’s not for the likes of you. She belongs here. Don’t get ideas different from that or you’ll be ash fertilizing my melon patch.”

“I don’t see it as your business, Wyatt.” Thomas didn’t grovel the way most people did around Hank. It pleased her even as the whole conversation irritated her.