Hour of the Lion, Cherise Sinclair [good story books to read TXT] 📗

hole teased his senses with the rich fragrance of coffee. It definitely didn‘t smell like his normal bitter brew. He took a sip and felt every taste bud in his mouth start to sing in praise. Another sip and he eyed her over the top of the cup. "You trying to bribe me for some reason?"

Her low laugh reminded him of Lachlan, and his lips pulled into an unaccustomed smile.

"No bribe. It‘s a goodbye present." She turned to look at the long shelves of books. "I‘m going to miss this place...might even miss you a little."

His legs seemed to weaken—old joints, undoubtedly. He dropped into his chair. "Are you leaving us, girl?"

She leaned on the counter, resting her weight on her arms—maybe her legs were shaky too.

"My knee is healed, so I‘m going back to the job I had before. It‘s overseas, and I travel light."

He drank his coffee and studied her without speaking. If she‘d been a shifter, he‘d have put money on Calum and Alec snagging her for a lifemate . Even for a human, she was all right.

Her eyes met his steadily in the way he‘d come to respect. No back-down in the girl. Plain-spoken. He‘d have called her cold if he hadn‘t watched her with Jamie. Or seen her trying not to cry when she told him about Lachlan. "I might miss you a little too," he managed.

Her lips curled into a half-grin. "Well, let‘s not get all mushy here." She bent over and with a grunt of effort set a...thing onto the counter.

"What the—what is that?"

"This is your goodbye present. It‘s a coffee-maker and it grinds the beans too. The cup of coffee was just to show you what you‘re missing."

"You expect me to use that?"

She shoved the behemoth toward him. "Yeah. Listen, Joe, in the cities, every corner has a Starbucks. Since there‘s nothing like that in Cold Creek, I figure people might come in here on these freeze-your-ass-off days—like today—just to have a decent cup of coffee."

Not a bad notion, really, but… He frowned at the machine. "And they‘d want me to make them fancy-pants latte or mocha or some such?"

"Naw. The mountains don‘t have helpless city folks. Just put out good coffee and have extras like chocolate syrup and whipped cream and all that sitting on the table. Let‘em make their own."

He could see it. Maybe change the fireplace chairs to comfortable ones. Have this contraption over there. People would straggle in all day long. His store wouldn‘t be so lonely.

That was what she‘d planned, wasn‘t it? "Pretty sneaky, girl."

Looking a little lost for such a spirited female, she touched his hand. "I think Lachlan hoped I‘d stay. He said...‘ Tell Grandpa I gifted you...and you"re my gift‘. Kinda like he entrusted you to me or something. I have to go, so I thought this…" She moved her shoulders, gave him a wavery smile, and hurried out into the cold and rain.

As he stared after her, silence closed around him. He‘d thought of Lachlan as a gift from the Mother. But then the boy had died. Now apparently the gods were taking this gift also.

Damn but it sucked saying goodbye to people, and maybe she‘d grown old, because it seemed much harder this time around. Vic figured she hadn‘t hurt this much since she‘d lost her buddy, Shanna, in Afghanistan.

And I don‘t even like that old man.

Icy fingers of rain drizzled down her face bringing back the chill feel of Shanna‘s hand as her blood drained into the sand. Vic closed her eyes to force the memory and the pain away. That was then; this was now. Move on.

Always moving on. Would she ever stop?

She crossed the street and looked into the grocery store. Maybe she should pick up some diet Cokes for the road. The bright lighting made it a cheerful oasis under the gray sky. As Al waited, Mrs. Neilson piled the counter with canned dog food for her poodle, so old and fat it could hardly walk. Vic tried to smile. Failed. Damn, she‘d miss this place.

Forget going in the grocery. Go back to the house. Finish packing. Leave. There, she had a plan.

Behind Vic, the door opened, and Mrs. Neilson instructed Al, "And don‘t forget to order the food for senior dogs next time."

Vic looked over her shoulder. The stout woman patted her thick wool coat closer like a chilled bird ruffling her feathers. Farther down the sidewalk, a man turned abruptly to look at the hotel window.

The hotel didn‘t have a display. What kind of idiot stood in the rain, staring at nothing?

The muscles in Vic‘s shoulders tightened. A person‘s subconscious—or monkey brain—

noticed the oddest details. Something out of place, behavior that didn‘t make sense. Too many people where there should only be a few. She resumed walking, brushed straggling wet hair away from her face, and spotted two men across the street, paralleling her course.

She faked a stumble and knelt to retie her shoe so she could scope out her six. Behind her was the hotel window loiterer and an additional man. All wore dark coats with scarves or pulled-up collars, rendering them anonymous in the steady rain.

They walked with none of the animal grace displayed by Calum or Alec—or even Thorson.

So they probably weren‘t shifters. Well good. She‘d rather fight humans than werecritters any day of the week. As adrenaline upped her pulse and tightened her muscles, she rose and continued down the sidewalk. They followed.

Yep, she was being hunted, pretty aggressively too. Wasn‘t life just full of surprises? Were they buddies of that asshole Swane? Seemed logical. How the hell had they found her?

Think about that later. If she continued going straight, she‘d leave the downtown area, and in this weather, the residential streets would be pretty empty. Undoubtedly the men‘s plan. Need to turn around.

She stopped. After pretending to rummage through her pockets and not finding what she wanted, she retraced her path. Past Angie‘s Diner, the hotel, Baty‘s Grocery. The one guy