Chapter 15

 

While Flynn finished his exam with one of the barn cats at the new client farm, Gabby ducked in the corners and in the stalls to search for the one they were missing. They’d examined the two cows and four goats, then the cats. She had scratches up and down her arms and a growing headache looming. One furball left, and they could get off this mountain and back to the clinic.

This place and the owner Jose gave her the creeps. At least he’d given them breathing room. Aside from meeting them at the car when they’d first pulled in, he’d left them alone. Thankfully, the other barn animals were in far better shape than the horses they’d encountered last week. She’d snuck in by them earlier and gave them some apples. Jose had said he’d planned to sell the horses, so there was that.

The adorable sheepdog who’d been following her around appeared at the barn door again. He wagged his tail, ducked out of sight, then came right back as if to say, follow me.

She turned to Flynn. “I’m going to go look for the last cat while you finish.”

He frowned. “Don’t go too far.”

Nodding, she followed the dog. “Where’s the kitty? Show me the kitty.”

The dog took off at a lope toward what she thought was an old chicken coop. It was several yards away from the barns and behind the house. Last time she and Flynn had been out here, Jose had instructed them to stay only in the barns.

Figuring the dog was headed for the house—maybe the cat was hiding out under the back steps—she followed. Dried grass, straw, and gravel crunched under her shoes as she walked. Saltwater from the coast mingled with mountain snow. Damp earth reminded her spring was here, though it took its time. She couldn’t wait for summer.

Her steps faltered and she bit her lip. The dog, who’d made a hard right away from the house, stopped and barked. He obviously wanted her to follow, but the hairs on her neck rose. The coop was very far from Flynn’s location and he couldn’t hear her if she called for help. Her cell and supplies were with him. Unease wove around her, made her stomach flip.

The dog barked again.

With a quick glance around, and after not finding anyone, she sighed. “Okay, but make this quick.” She didn’t like this one iota.

She trailed the dog to the edge of the coop. Roughly as tall as her and about six feet wide, it was more like a shed. Plywood slats boarded the windows on each side and the roof was rotted through in several spots. The precarious door had a padlock, but it was hanging loosely on the latch.

Hand on the knob, she paused, and the dog barked. “Shh. You’ll get us in trouble.”

This wasn’t right. She eyed the door again, every ingrained instinct telling her to take off running. Something was wrong. Though the temps were mild and the breeze slight, a cold shifted through her to her bones. The clear skies and sunlight didn’t chase the chill away. Unlike over by the barns, the scent of decay and feces hung in the air on this side of the property.

Just as she backed away, a whine sounded from the coop. Faint, but there. Shaking, she slowly opened the door. A creak of the rusted hinges tore a shiver from deep within her core.

The stench hit her first. Rotting flesh. Infection. Urine. Eyes watering, she squinted into the dark structure.

Oh God Almighty. No. She clasped her hands over her mouth, shock freezing her immobile for several beats.

Makeshift pine stalls were erected along three of the walls, five on each side, four in the back. Wire fencing covered each. And inside...inside were dogs. Pit bulls, all of them. A few looked up at her with pathetic, frightened eyes. Some didn’t have the strength to even lift their heads. A couple didn’t move at all. They were skin and bones. Gouges marred their fur. Large chunks of flesh were missing. Maggots and flies had burrowed into the wounds.

She gagged and ran outside, gulping in air. Retching, she fell to her knees, tears blinding her. Oh God. Who would do such a thing? Her throat closed and she couldn’t drag in oxygen. A careening siren wailed inside her head as her vision grayed.

The sheepdog sidled next to her, whined, and nudged her with his nose. “Good, boy. You’re a good boy.” Her voice broke.

She had to get out of here. Get to Flynn and call for help. Panic clutched her chest as she carefully closed the coop door with a silent promise to the dogs she’d help them. For now, she just had to get away before Jose spotted her.

Wiping her face with her sleeve, she quickly glanced around and walked briskly toward the barn. Flynn was packing the bag when she got there. Alone.

Trying not to panic, she ran to him and signed what she found, not wanting to speak aloud in case someone was nearby. Flynn tensed, nostrils flared, an are you serious look in his lethal hazel eyes. She nodded, more tears threatening.

He fisted his hand in his hair and stalked away. Paced back. “Call 911. I’ll text Cade and Drake to meet at the clinic to help. When the authorities leave, we’ll bring the dogs to Animal Instincts.”

She nodded. “What about the other animals?” There were four horses, never mind the cats, goats, and cows. They couldn’t leave them.

He blew out a breath. “When the cops get here, try calling some of our clients. See if a couple of them can board or take them in. Tell them they’ll get free vet care for the next visit.” He swallowed. “You okay?”

She shook her head, but pulled out her cell. No signal. “I have to get the satellite phone.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

Once outside, she hauled ass to the SUV and sat in the passenger seat. After reporting the incident and assured the authorities were on the way, she slumped in her seat.

Flynn made his way over, stowed the bags, and stood next to her by the open car door. Silently, he ran his hand over her back in an attempt to soothe her, his body tense with his own shock and anger.

She couldn’t quit shaking. By the look of those poor animals, they’d been part of a dogfighting ring. Once, years ago, she and Flynn had stumbled onto a puppy mill. That had been terrible. But those conditions, awful as they’d been, were not nearly as horrifying as what she’d seen today.

Flynn glanced behind the SUV. “They’re here.”

Stepping out of the car, she sucked in a breath. They had work to do, had to take care of the matter at hand before she could crumble. She didn’t get to fall apart, not when those dogs were suffering. And God. She and Flynn had been out here on Friday. If she’d checked the coop then, maybe some of them wouldn’t be in such bad shape.

As two squad cars from Redwood Ridge and another from State Patrol pulled in behind them, the screen door to the farmhouse snapped shut and six feet of murderous Jose vaulted down the steps.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Flynn straightened and shoved Gabby behind his back, but the officers were already between Jose and them. Jose threw a punch, landing wide of Flynn’s jaw over the officer’s shoulder. In seconds, the cops had Jose in handcuffs and sitting in the back of one squad.

The next three hours were a nightmare. The authorities had taken her statement, snapped photos of the coop, and escorted Jose away. One of the Redwood Ridge officers had remained to keep an eye on the scene. Cade and Drake had shown up and, after examining the dogs as best they could, came out of the coop where she and Flynn had been waiting.

All but two of the dogs had to be put down. The injuries were too severe. Not wanting to traumatize the poor animals more than they were, they’d euthanized right there, and Drake had taken their bodies back to the clinic for cremation.

Gabby, despite Flynn’s protests, had knelt right next to each one while they’d administered the drugs so they wouldn’t be alone. She’d cooed murmurs of comfort, petted their trembling bodies, and cried like a baby until her throat was raw.

Cade had dealt with the other animals. Avery, on his request, had contacted neighboring farms, and each goat, horse, and cow had a new home.

By the time it was all said and done, dusk had descended and the air was cool. Gabby was a mess. She’d never feel clean again. A layer of guilt and grime coated her skin, her clothes, and she couldn’t take it.

Fidgeting in the passenger seat on the way down the mountain, she watched the scenery pass in a blur. Flynn, sensing her upheaval, put his hand over hers, gaze on the road while he drove. He hadn’t said much of anything, but she knew he’d have nightmares, too. She tried to absorb his warmth, draw comfort from the weight of his hand, but it was useless.

* * * *

Gently, Flynn took the keys from Gabby and unlocked her house. Drake was dealing with the two Pitbulls they’d rescued and Cade was heading to Flynn’s to take care of Fletch for him. Gabby needed him and, damn it, he needed her. So, regardless of her protests, he was staying with her tonight.

He’d never be able to scrub those images from his mind and, knowing Gabby and her big heart, she was probably a damn mess. Every tear she’d shed today tore a chunk out of him, and the detached, almost numb state she’d been in since was scaring the shit out of him. She hadn’t muttered so much as a word in hours and she was still trembling.

He closed the door behind them, setting her keys and purse on the entry table. Popsicle wound around his ankles and, keeping his eyes on Gabby, he picked up the cat. Her purr of pleasure rumbled under his palm.

Gabby stopped in the middle of the living room as if unsure what to do. Her vacant blue eyes focused on the wall while she trembled.

Anger and grief warred inside his chest, not only for what Jose had done to those helpless dogs, but for what seeing them had done to Gabby. He’d never, for as long as he lived, be able to erase the image of her lying on the soiled floor of that shed. Her lips moving with words of consolation. Her shaking hands trying to soothe the scared dogs. Her tears trekking her face as Drake administered the euthanasia. Her biting her lip and crossing her arms protectively over her stomach while Flynn had to muzzle the two survivors, who’d put up quite the fight out of sheer unadulterated fear.

Hell, he needed to hold her right now more than he needed to breathe.

He set the cat down and walked to stand in front of her, but she snapped into a flurry of motion. Tears streamed from her already red-rimmed eyes and she clutched at her scrubs. Before he knew her intent, she’d stripped down to skin as if the material had burned. She stood there, shaking, naked...

Damn. He darted into her bedroom to get her a robe or something, emerging with a T-shirt that would cover her until she was in a better frame of mind. But when he’d returned to the living room, she wasn’t there. Backtracking to the hallway, he found the bathroom door shut. His heart pounded so that every pulse point in his body ached.

Hand on the knob, he swallowed, wondering if he should open it. Worry took up commercial space in his chest. Concerned, he poked his head inside and steam hit his face.

Okay. Showering. He couldn’t blame her. Slipping back out, he went into her bedroom to hunt up something better for her to wear now that there wasn’t an emergent need to cover her.

Pink heart-designed pajamas lay on her comforter. Snatching them and a pair of panties from her top drawer—don’t look, don’t look—he eased the bathroom door open, quickly set the items on the toilet lid, and stepped out.

Wondering if he had enough time to scrub the day off himself before she emerged, he made his way to the SUV and dug around for the extra set of scrubs Gabby kept there for him. On his way back inside, he picked up her scrubs from the living room floor and emptied the pockets onto the coffee table. Hand sanitizer, pens, gloves, dog treats, scrap paper—Christ. Where was the kitchen sink?

Since she was still in the hall bathroom, he stripped in her adjoining one and threw her scrubs and his in the garbage, then showered.

The bathroom door was still shut when he emerged. Sighing, he lifted his hand to knock, but the door swung inward and she stood at the threshold, steam pillowing around her.

The boy shorts and tank top dotted with hearts—adorable, that—barely covered her good parts. Her skin was bright pink like she’d had the water set to scalding and had tried to incinerate the dermal layers off. Scratches from the barn cats ran up and down her arms. Though red, they didn’t appear to have gone deep, nor looked infected.

Shoulders slumped, her watery gaze met his and...hell. Her lower lip quivered. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and wrapped his arms around her, not having a clue what she was apologizing for. Chances were, whatever it was, it wasn’t her fault. She sank into his embrace, face buried in his chest and shoulders shaking. Her fingers clutched his shirt and she teetered.

Before she could fall, he caught her, banding her tighter to him, and moved toward her bedroom. After she’d climbed in bed, he turned on the bedside lamp and followed, lying on his side to face her. The damn tears were gutting, but he stroked her hair until she’d finally, blessedly, stopped. Her honey scent clung to the sheets and he used the familiarity to calm the last edges of upset in his stomach.

Nose red, eyes redder, she studied his face. “I’m sorry.”

Seeking patience, he shook his head. “Knock it off.”

She blinked when he’d spoken instead of signed, but his voice didn’t seem to repel or disgust her. It would take some getting used to, but he was trying. There were times signing just wasn’t optimal and Gabby had never judged him.

The low light from the lamp made her features seem softer and he drank her in. She truly was quite pretty. Real in a way not found nowadays. A cross between sly sultriness and girl-next-door wholesome.

“Do you think you could eat?” No way he could, but they hadn’t had anything since lunch hours ago.

She shook her head. A trace of a smile curved her lips. “I’ll bet that was exactly how you imagined me taking my clothes off, right?”

He grinned because he couldn’t help it. She was something else. “It was, actually. The sobbing while you stripped was an added benefit.”

She slapped his arm.

“No, really. Such a turn-on when women weep while throwing clothes around. I’d work on your technique, though. I think you ripped the tabs off your bra.”

She covered her face and laughed, shaking the bed. Some of the light was back in her eyes when she dropped her hand, and he breathed for the first time in hours. “I’ll try harder next time.” Her smile slipped a margin as she stared at him. “Thank you. For everything. Mostly for not putting me in a padded cell.”

Christ. She killed him sometimes. “Fear not. The men in white coats are coming later.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek, needing to touch her. “I did get to raid your panty drawer, so I should be thanking you.”

Covering her eyes, she laughed again. “Oh God.”

“I like the red ones best. They go with your eyes.”

Face in the pillow, she shook her head. When she resurfaced, her lips were pressed together, smile still in her eyes. Ah, there was his girl. Much better.

Leaning forward, she brushed his lips with hers, lids drooping. Her warm breath fanned his mouth and it took restraint not to push the kiss past gentle.

Allowing himself a moment to sink into her, he closed his eyes. Gabby was the only woman he’d ever been able to let go with, even as marginal a thing as not having to look at her. Heat fired through his blood as he pressed his mouth to her upper lip, then the lower. She brushed her nose against his and tilted her head, asking for more.

He cupped her cheek and increased the pressure. Her lips parted, tongue tracing the seam of his, and he groaned. She took that opportunity to slip past his defenses and stroked his tongue with hers. Careful, teasing, open-mouth licks that had his brain misfiring and his shaft hard. She pressed a hand to his chest, thumb circling his nipple, and he pulled his head away.

“Gabby...” Except he couldn’t remember what he was going to say. Something about slowing down and reminding her she hadn’t wanted to get physical right away in their relationship.

Her heavy lids lifted and blue desire look back at him. “Flynn.”

What he wouldn’t give to, just once, know what his name sounded like from her lips. Hear her voice. Her sleepy, wanton eyes and wet mouth were the ultimate turn-on, but he’d kill to hear her tone when she was like this.

“I could show you instead.”

His gaze flicked to hers and he realized he must’ve said his thoughts aloud. Damn, she had him in knots. It wasn’t like him to speak at all, never mind not be aware he was doing it. Then her words sank in.

Like always, she read his expression. Or his mind. “I’ll show you what my voice sounds like. Close your eyes.”

Reluctant, he did as she asked, and her soft plush lips grazed his jaw. Her mouth moved, speaking, and without looking he knew she was saying his name. Featherlight, she did it again, this time against his mouth and his heart tripped in rhythm.

His skin caught fire. His gut clenched in desire. Spreading his fingers over her back, he urged her closer. She dipped her head, moving her lips and continuing to level him by speaking against his skin. Down his neck. Across his throat. Behind his ear.

Against. His. Ear.

Christ, that was his erotic zone right there. He wanted her so bad he was shaking. His chest rose and fell in swift pants, and she...smiled against his cheek. The damn minx.

He shoved his thigh between her legs and cupped her ass, dragging her closer. Her eyes closed as her head fell back, caramel hair tickling his hand. Her heart pounded against his chest, the thump-thump increasing when she jerked her hips to ride his thigh.

He dipped his head to lick that patch of skin over the tendon on her neck, and encountered...fur.

He opened one eye and narrowed it on the cat. Popsicle stared back at him from behind Gabby’s shoulder with a pay attention to me demand. His gaze dropped to Gabby when she shook against him. Lips pressed together, she laughed.

Right. He remembered Gabby had wanted this relationship to go slow.

Picking up the cat, he set her by their feet. Then he turned Gabby in his arms so she faced away from him, spooned her against his chest—which did not help calm his raging erection—and ordered her to go to sleep.

Face buried in her soft, sweet-smelling hair, he tried to follow his own orders.