“What’s going on with you these days?” John asked, looking hard at Mick as they sat across from each other in a booth at the diner. “It’s like you’re only half here.”
“Nothing’s ‘going on’,” Mick replied harshly. Then he modified his tone. “I think…I don’t know, maybe I’m getting burned out?”
John chuckled. “You’re a small town sheriff. How can you get burned out? Bored, maybe.”
Mick nodded. “Maybe. Either way I’m considering taking some time off. Get away from here and just, hell I don’t know.”
“Go fishing?”
“Now talk about something boring,” Mick replied with a soft snort of amusement.
“Just an idea. When are you doing this?”
Making a decision, Mick said, “I’ll take a week starting Friday.”
“Which is two days from now.”
“Yep, so figure on being in charge until I get back.”
“Damn, there go my plans with Carly.”
“Hey, she married you; she sees you almost twenty-four seven now. I’m sure she’ll survive.”
John smiled happily. “Yeah, she did. Now we just have to find someone for you. Hey, here’s an idea. Go on a cruise. Who knows who you might meet.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Not my thing. Besides which, I’m fine the way I am.”
John cocked an eyebrow in disbelief but remained silent, for which Mick was very glad. He didn’t need his friend telling him, again, that he needed someone in his life. There was only one ‘someone’, in more time than he cared to think about, who he’d thought he could come to care for. And he turned out to be…
His hands clenched into fists.
Not a man at all but something more. Something inhuman. It’s a damned good thing you left, Wynn. Because if you hadn’t…if things had happened between us like I sort of hoped they might…would you have told me what you are?
Mick shuddered. Could I…would I have been able to accept it if you had?
“You can’t be cold, Mick,” John said, breaking into Mick’s thoughts. “It’s over eighty outside.”
“And twenty in here,” Mick grumbled. “Damned air conditioning.”
“Uh-huh, not. Whatever’s going on with you, and from the look on your face a minute ago it’s not good, I hope you work it out before you get back from vacation. We need the whole you, not the half you’ve been giving us recently.”
Mick winced. “I’ve been that bad, huh?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Well that’s going to change. I’ll come back a new man,” Mick replied with a small grin.
“Naw, just come back as the old you. Not sure I could deal with breaking in a new sheriff,” John said with a straight face. Then he laughed.
Mick did, as well, and the tension he felt abated. But he knew it would be back if he didn’t do something about it. And the only thing he could do was see if he could find Wynn, if that was possible. Find him and face him down with what he knew, or thought he knew, about what he was. And see what happened from there.
* * * *
As it turned out, Mick didn’t have to go searching for Wynn. He came to town early that Friday morning—not that Mick was immediately aware of the fact.
Sweet, eighty-year-old Ms. Lewis had called just as Mick got to the sheriff’s office. She sounded mad as a wet hen when she told him someone had been in her vegetable garden and had torn up most of her carrots and some of her lettuce. He had the feeling he knew who the culprits were. The rabbit population that summer had grown by leaps and bounds. But he also knew there was nothing to be done but to go out to her place and check it out.
“She just wants some company,” John said with a laugh when Mick told him where they were going. “Mostly your company, ‘cause you’re willing to take the time to talk to her and drink that brew she calls coffee.”
Mick did take the time to talk. He even managed to get down some of the coffee while convincing Ms. Lewis it really had been rabbits and she should get someone to fix the two holes in her garden fence.
On the drive back into town, John was humming ‘Make someone happy…’ Mick shook his head. “You’re not old enough to know that song.”
“YouTube, Mick. Carly’s addicted and I get to listen to what she finds. And let me tell you, she finds some weird ones. Speaking of which, mind if we stop at the diner? I’m starving.”
“At ten in the morning?”
John shrugged. “Okay, so I’m not really starving. I just want some coffee to get the taste of whatever that was Ms. Lewis gave us out of my mouth.”
Mick laughed. “I’m with you on that.”
They pulled up in front of the diner a few minutes later, parked, and went inside. Carly came over immediately, giving John a hug, then turned to Mick. “Someone was here looking for you.”
“Now what,” he replied with a sigh. “Who’s done what to who now?”
“Nothing like that. It’s Walt, the guy with the white hair that you were trying to help out.”
Mick barely heard anything beyond ‘Walt’ as his pulse quickened. Willing himself to keep from reacting with more than a questioning look, he asked, “Did he say where he was going?”
“He did. He’s getting a room at the hotel. I told him you were probably at the sheriff’s office. He said he’d check there later.”
“Thanks. I’ll stop by the hotel maybe, but right now we both need some decent coffee and—” Mick glanced at John, “—some lunch?”
“Naw. I’m good with just coffee for now. To go.”
Mick was tempted to press the issue but he had the feeling if he did, they’d want to know why, and he wasn’t about to admit he was afraid—afraid of seeing Wynn again. Afraid of how he’d react when he did. Afraid of the reasons Wynn might have come back. So he waited while Carly got their coffee, and had John drop him off at the hotel.
* * * *
This is beyond insane. Wynn stared out the hotel window. I should leave now before I do something I’ll regret, like make a fool of myself—or worse.
Gazing off at the mountains, he wondered if that was the answer—to go there and let his animal side free. But he knew it wouldn’t work. He’d done that often enough in the past few months and for a brief time he’d manage to recapture the joy of being alive, only to lose it again as soon as he returned to the city and his studio.
How can one man, who’s probably forgotten I even exist, hold such sway over me? How can I let him? Because I’m a fool.
Turning, he walked to the door. A fool, maybe, but still…
He opened the door and froze. Mick stood there, his hand raised to knock.
“I was just…just going to…” Wynn stuttered out.
Mick pushed past him into the room. “Close the door. We need to talk.”
The anger in Mick’s voice shocked Wynn into compliance. He did as Mick had ordered then stood, mute, as he looked at him. He appeared the same, just the way he remembered him—tall, dark-haired, muscular, broad-shouldered, scowling. All right, I don’t remember the scowl.
“Sit.” Mick pointed to the bed.
“I’d rather stand if you’re going to yell at me about disappearing. And I can explain why.”
“Oh I’m sure you can, and I bet the explanation’s a doozy. But whatever you’ve come up with, I know it’s a lie. I’ve seen the pictures of Lionel. Mr. Peters found the camera about a week or so ago and brought it down to give to me.”
Wynn hissed in a deep breath, feeling as if he’d been hit in the gut.
“They were real interesting, Wynn. At first I thought maybe I was reading them wrong.” Mick glared at him. “I thought maybe, just maybe, they were some sort of—I don’t know—fantasy thing, like the drawing I found in your sketchbook. Though I couldn’t figure out why they’d be something Lionel would be afraid of anyone seeing if that was the case. Then I looked at them side by side. The jaguar in the one shot was the same one who was turning into Lionel in the other one.”
Wynn nodded, refusing to look away. “It was.”
“After that, well it didn’t take long to put two and two together. I heard the fight when I came back that morning. I saw his dead carcass.” He clenched his hands by his side. “The cat who rescued Ralphie Peters—he called it a snow cat—that was you. Just as it was you who fought and killed Lionel. It all fit. That’s why you disappeared.”
“Partly, yes. I was wounded. You saw what he looked like. I didn’t look much better and there was no way I could have explained why.” Wynn smiled ruefully. “Somehow I doubt you would have believed I fought a jaguar barehanded and came out of it alive.”
“You’ve got that one right.” Mick swallowed hard, his expression revealing the shock he felt at Wynn’s reply. It was, apparently, one thing to think he knew the answer. It was quite another to find out that what he’d imagined was actually true. He turned away, obviously unable to look at Wynn while he tried to absorb the truth.
“I hoped,” Wynn said quietly, “you’d think maybe Lionel had shown up too early and I’d panicked and ran. And then, well, that maybe you’d forget I even existed once you didn’t hear from me.”
“Not hardly,” Mick replied between clenched teeth. “At first I thought you didn’t call or whatever because you were still trying to get away from him. Then I was scared he’d caught up with you. Later, well, I figured maybe it was just another job for you—get the evidence back to whoever it was supposed to go to, using any help you could get if you needed to and damn the consequences.” He spun around, slamming his fist into the palm of his hand. “Boy was I wrong, you lying bastard.”
“I never lied to you.”
“Not in so many words, no. But everything you didn’t say made what happened a lie.” Mick swung around, going to the window. “And to think, for a while there, I was beginning to care about you.”
Wynn closed his eyes, breathing deeply to keep from saying the wrong thing in reply. “If it could have been any other way—”
He didn’t get to finish because Mick spat out angrily, “Would you have told me? I’m presuming you came back for some reason. To see me? Or maybe to retrieve the camera? You hid it well from what Ed Peters said. Real well. It was just damned bad luck he found it.”
“I came back because I had to see you. I had to find out if…if what I feel is real. Or if what I thought was happening between us was just wishful thinking because I needed someone who could care about me.”
* * * *
Mick almost replied that what Wynn needed to do was to get out of his life and go back where he came from, wherever that was. It was what he wanted to say. It was the smart thing to say.
I mean, hell, he’s some sort of creature out of a bad movie. Trying to pretend he’s human when he’s really a vicious animal.
“But he’s not,” he whispered softly to himself, still looking out the window but seeing nothing but the past.
“I’m not what?” Wynn asked quietly, finally crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed.
“A vicious animal. If you were, you wouldn’t have helped Ralphie.”
“Maybe I thought he wouldn’t make much of a meal,” Wynn replied scathingly.
“Then you would have just left him there and moved on.” Mick finally looked at Wynn again. “You heard he was missing because you were there when the call came in and you went looking for him. Didn’t you?”
Wynn nodded. “The way the weather was, hell, I couldn’t in good conscience not try to find him. I figured I had a better chance than you all did, when it came down to it.”
“Which is true but…” Mick gave a small shake of his head. “Damn it, Wynn, you could have said something.”
“Said what? ‘Oh, by the way, Mick. You know that snow cat? It was me’. You’d have locked me up and called the nearest psych ward and you know it.”
Mick chuckled. “Yeah, probably. Or told you to get your ass out of town and if Lionel found you, more power to him.”
“That too,” Wynn replied with a small smile.
“So, umm, have you always been, you know?”
“A shifter? Yeah. Sort of came from being born to parents who are.”
“Are there lots of you?”
Wynn grinned, relief flooding him that Mick was still there and talking to him. “Nope. I’m just me. I’m not a twin—or a triplet.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Mick grumbled.
“I know. Sorry. There aren’t all that many shifters. We’re not about to overrun the world. There’s a lot of different kinds but we all exist in small—well, groups doesn’t work for cats since we’re pretty solitary, though there are canid shifters who do form packs. I have a family; I wasn’t lying about that. But it’s far-flung.”
“Are you the only albino one?”
“I’m not really an albino. I’m a ‘ghost jaguar’, due to what’s called leukism, which has something to do with defective pigment cells. That’s why my eyes are blue, not pinkish-red. And that’s probably more than you wanted to know,” he added.
“I did ask,” Mick replied with a smile. He tapped his thumb to his lips as he studied Wynn. “If it wasn’t for your hair color, no one would think you were any different from anyone else. You’re not all that pale.”
“True. But I don’t tan either. And why are we talking about this?”
“Because I’m interested and trying to understand exactly what you are.”
“Part human, part jaguar—but mostly human, as far as I’m concerned. The fact I can shift is just a strange added perk. Not that I usually object. There’s a definite freedom to letting my animal side out and running with the wind.”
“I can see how there might be. Sort of like getting in a fast car and flooring it. Not that I’ve done that, of course, being a law abiding citizen and the sheriff to boot.”
“Uh-huh.” Wynn arched his eyebrow in disbelief.
“Okay, so maybe once or twice when I was younger.”
“Then you sort of get what I’m saying.”
Mick nodded. “Still, you can be damned vicious too. I saw what you did to Lionel.”
“That was kill or be killed, pure and simple. I didn’t get off on it, any more than you would if you were faced with an armed robber who tried to shoot you so he could get away.” Wynn sighed. “I’m not some feral animal. Most of us aren’t. But Lionel was—or he became one. He went rogue, as we call it, and had to be stopped.”
“Why you?”
“Why was I the one sent after him? Because…” Wynn told him what he’d told Maribel just days before.
“Do you do that a lot?” Mick asked when Wynn had finished.
Wynn snorted. “Not hardly. I’m an artist, pure and simple. Like I said, I sort of got roped into it. I’d probably have told them to go fly a kite if I hadn’t had my own personal run-in with the bastard.”
“If it had been me, I’d have strangled him when that happened and saved a few lives as a result,” Mick growled.
Wynn smiled wryly. “If I’d known what he was going to turn into, I might have considered it. But, of course, I didn’t. I just figured he was a son-of-a-bitch who thought he could buy my favors by offering me what he thought I wanted, a chance for fame and fortune.”
* * * *
There was a long pause then, as if neither man knew what to say next. Mick broke it finally by asking, “Now what?”
“I suppose that depends on you. You know what I am now. Do you want me to go so you can forget something like me even exists?”
“I doubt that’s possible. Forgetting there’s such a thing as shifters, I mean.” Mick hesitated. “Or forgetting you exist,” he added quietly, his gaze locked on Wynn.
Ignoring his suddenly racing pulse, Wynn replied, “That doesn’t mean you want me hanging around, throwing it in your face every time you see me that at any moment I might literally head for the hills and become a wild animal.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t either.” Mick smiled slightly. “As long as I don’t have to watch. That would be a bit too freaky I think. Just the picture of Lionel doing it spooked me, and that was before I knew it was the real thing.”
“So if I stick around for a few days, we can see if, well, if what we felt before, or what I felt at least, was the real thing?”
“Oh I felt it too. I thought I made that very clear.”
Wynn snorted. “Not hardly. I propositioned you, sort of, and you said, let’s see if I remember, something about ‘maybe, but my safety was more important at the moment’. Not exactly an enthusiastic response.”
“What did you want? For me to throw you down on the floor and have my way with you, and if Lionel showed up, he could wait and watch until we were done before killing you?”
Wynn doubled over with laughter. “Now there’s an image I’d rather not contemplate,” he sputtered out.
It took a second then Mick laughed as well. “Yeah, not on the top of my list either. But seriously—” he sat down beside Wynn, “—I would like to find out if our feelings were just the result of the tension we were under or something more.”
Wynn looked at him, searching his face. For what, he wasn’t quite certain. Confirmation that Mick meant what he’d said, he supposed. He found it in the hopeful look in Mick’s eyes and the small smile as he gazed back. “I’d like to know that too,” he replied finally. “But we’re not falling into bed until we’re both certain. Sex has a way of screwing things up.”
Mick’s eyebrow cocked up. “Not sure I agree with that, but it’s your call and I’ll honor it.”
“Thank you.” Wynn continued to study him for a long moment then cupped one hand behind Mick’s head and kissed him.
Mick swallowed hard, kissed him back then pulled away. “I thought you said no sex.”
“I said, we’re not falling into bed. Kissing is allowed, at least to my way of thinking. Sort of adds spice to what might happen later.”
“More like anticipation,” Mick grumbled. “And I was always the kid who wanted to open Christmas presents the second they went under the tree and not wait until the day.”
“Waiting is good for you,” Wynn replied with a grin. “Teaches you patience.”
“If you say so.” Mick glanced at the clock radio by the bed. “Where the hell did the time go?”
“Scientifically or metaphysically?”
“Both.” Mick stood and pulled Wynn to his feet. “You hungry? Because I know this really nice diner that serves a great lunch.”
“Sounds good to me. I was too nervous to eat this morning.”
“Then let’s go.”
“In a second.” Wynn wrapped his arms around Mick and kissed him again, much more thoroughly this time—a kiss Mick seemed quite willing to return in kind. “Now I’m ready,” Wynn announced with a grin when they broke apart.
“Keep that up and we’re not going anywhere and damn my promise.”
Wynn made that a non-issue by putting his hand on the small of Mick’s back, urging him toward the door. With a growl, and a smile, Mick complied.
* * * *
“I thought you were on vacation,” Carly said as she came over to take Mick and Wynn’s order.
“Technically, not until tomorrow,” Mick told her. “But actually I think I started about half an hour ago.”
Carly glanced at Wynn, then back to Mick. “Twenty to one says he’s the reason.”
“Yep, he induced me to.”
“Induced—or seduced?” Carly grinned mischievously.
Wynn chuckled. “No seducing…yet.”
“Well hell.” She shook her head in mock disgust then took their orders and left.
“One thing I really like about this town—”
“Is that most people don’t give a damn if their friends are straight, gay, anything in between,” Mick broke in with a smile. “I told you that already, way back when.”
“I know, but it’s nice to have it confirmed again.”
“It’s a good town, Wynn. Friendly, mostly, once people get to know you.”
“Mostly?”
Mick shrugged. “People are people; there’s always going to be someone who doesn’t like the cut of your jib, as my dad used to say.”
“Boy, I haven’t heard that one in years.”
Frowning slightly, Mick said, “May I ask you something?”
“Sure. Why stop now?” That earned Wynn a raised middle finger before Mick continued.
“How old are you exactly. When I did some research online about—” he glanced around and lowered his voice, “—about shifters, it said you age more slowly than humans.”
“We do, but not by all that much unless we shift often. It’s the regeneration when we shift that slows our aging. So, in answer to your question, I’ve been alive for forty-five years.”
“And look thirty, which is good since that’s close to my age.”
“And that is?”
“Thirty-three and counting.”
“You don’t look a day over—”
“Be nice,” Mick growled.
Wynn grinned. “I was going to say thirty-two.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, I’ll buy that, for now. Where did you grow up?”
With a straight face, Wynn said, “In a cave in the Amazon Basin.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Yeah.” Wynn laughed. “Real jaguars may be indigenous to Central and South America, but as shifters, we can be anywhere. Of course, we tend to stick where we won’t stand out as an animal that doesn’t belong in a certain region so I grew up in Arizona.”
“With your coloring, seems to me you’d stand out anywhere unless it’s winter.”
“Unfortunately, yes—which is why I moved north. Not that I like winter all that much, but I definitely don’t like hunters shooting at me or trying to trap me.”
“You’d be safe enough around here.”
“I know,” Wynn said softly, reaching out to take his hand just as Carly appeared with their meals.
“Ah ha, I knew it!” she crowed.
Wynn drew back his hand quickly, much to Carly’s obvious amusement. “I won’t tell if you don’t want me too.”
“Since there isn’t anything to tell,” Mick replied.
“Yet…Okay, I got it. My lips are sealed, well except when it comes to John.”
“And I’m not touching that one,” Mick said.
With a cheeky grin, she told him he’d better not then hurried off to take care of her other customers.