functioning alarm, which, though not monitored, would at least alert her to any intrusion. If the attackers came back, at least she’d have some kind of warning.
But the night passed uneventfully, and she woke in the morning feeling rested and completely healed. The man—Mac—still slept, though his color had improved and she judged that he was very close to being one hundred percent improved.
While waiting, she purified the area, drawing the ritual from instinct and memories. She set up an altar, a small replica of the one she’d had in her home, using some candles she’d dug out of a drawer and a half-burnt stick of incense.
Then, she bowed her head and offered up a prayer, though to what god, she couldn’t say. In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter to who or what she prayed. She—and her family, as well as this man who was now bound to her—would need all the help they could get.
First, she had to take care of her dogs. In the closest town, she had one person she trusted. Ben was human, without any knowledge of shifters or vampires or, most important, Tearlachs. He’d come forward two years ago, wanting to volunteer for the dog rescue group she’d founded. He often helped her save a doomed dog, both fostering and helping to transport them, often from across the country. He’d even stayed with Kelly’s personal dogs once or twice when she’d felt the urge to travel. She often called him her big brother, only half-jokingly. She knew if she ever really needed him, he’d have her back, just like a real brother.
Ben answered on the third ring. “Kelly! It’s been a while, way too long. What’s up?”
She could picture him, the eternal hippy with his too-long gray hair pulled back in a thick braid and his uncombed beard going in every direction. Ben was retired career military and she supposed his wild appearance was his way of rebelling at years of being told what to wear and do. He was also a former sniper and a crack shot.
“I need your help.” Briefly, without giving too many details, she outlined the situation. Years ago, she’d hinted vaguely to Ben that she’d done a stint of undercover work, highly classified, and she called on this cover story now.
“Call the police,” Ben advised. “See if they can send a few state troopers out. Sounds like you need some firepower.”
Kelly didn’t even bother to respond. She just let Ben think about what he’d just said.
“You can’t involve the authorities, can you?” Ben finally asked. “That’s why you called me.”
“Exactly.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Watch my dogs. I know this is asking a lot—”
“Nah. It’s okay. You know I love your pups. How many are you up to these days?”
“Seven house dogs. Plus more in the kennel. If it’s okay with you, I’ll bring my seven out to your place. The others will need transporting to a temporary foster home.”
“In other words, me.” Ben’s dry tone contained a hint of amusement.
“I couldn’t ask you to take them. My seven are enough.”
“How about I pop out there daily and feed them? Would that work?”
Kelly thought for a moment, then reluctantly answered. “No. Too dangerous.”
“For me? I thought it was you they’re after.”
He had a point. “True, but I can’t say for sure they won’t be back. I don’t want you anywhere in the vicinity if they do. They’re more deadly than I can say.”
Ben snorted, but he gave in. “Fine. I’ll take your word for it. Let me make a few phone calls about the kennel dogs and I’ll let you know. When do you want to bring yours over?”
“The sooner the better. Today? Tomorrow?”
He whistled. “You are in a hurry, aren’t you?”
His tone made her want to smile. Immediately, she quashed it. “I’ve got to get on the road.”
“Hunting or fleeing?”
This time Kelly had to fight to keep from laughing. “What do you think?”
“I think I wouldn’t want to be whoever you’re after when you catch up to them. You sure you don’t want me to round up my buddies? We could help you out.”
Ben and his friends referred to themselves as the Redneck Posse. Kelly suspected they’d all once been part of the same Special Ops unit, but she didn’t know for sure. She’d never asked and Ben had never volunteered the information.
“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” She could imagine his reaction if she told him her attackers had been vampires and shape-shifters. “I need you here more.”
“All right, then. Just thought I’d offer.” Rather than disappointed, Ben actually sounded a bit relieved.
“And I do appreciate that,” she said.
“How long should I expect you to be gone?” Ben asked, probably more out of curiosity than anything else. He lived alone, with one dog and an ancient parrot.
“As long as it takes,” Kelly answered. “I have no idea. That’s the best I can do.”
“See you tomorrow, then.”
Hanging up the phone, she turned again to study Mac. One of her rescue dogs, a pit bull mix named Brandi, who’d only recently been given house privileges, had gone to sit by the man’s side. The large animal’s posture was alert and watchful, as if she was guarding one of her pack mates or her best friend.
This stunned Kelly. Brandi generally avoided people. Kelly had been working with the former dog-fighting casualty for three months now and the animal barely allowed her to touch her coat. Now the burly dog sat by the side of the ill man as though compassion was her middle name.
Interesting. If she had time, she’d study this in more detail. Brandi’s behavior could mean a breakthrough for other dogs that had suffered at the hands of dog-fighters.
But with time running short, Kelly could focus only on Mac, doing what she could to ease his suffering while he rid his system of the poison. For the next several hours, she sat vigilant by his side along with the dog, keeping him clean and trying to get the occasional bit of liquid into his parched mouth, wiping it up as it ran down his chin.
It shouldn’t be much longer now. The wound continued to heal at an amazing rate. As the fever shook his muscular body and he thrashed about in the covers, Brandi would whimper. When she laid her square-shaped head on Mac, the man quieted instantly. Though the smell of poison tainted the air, the animal didn’t seem to notice or care.
Beside Mac on the table, his cell phone vibrated. Snatching it up before it could disturb him, Kelly debated answering. Someone as beautiful as this one must have a significant other, not to mention family and friends. Most likely they were worried that he wasn’t returning their calls.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Who is this?” A masculine voice, full of suspicion.
“My name is Kelly McKenzie. I—”
“The Tearlach?” He sounded skeptical, which was good.
“You people keep calling me this,” Kelly snarled, only half acting as she forced rage into her voice, building up so she could sound convincing as she spoke the first lie. “I don’t even know what the word means.”
“Right. Whatever. Look, this is Donald, of the Society of Protectors. Put Mac Lamonda on. I need to talk to him.”
Glancing at the man still unconscious on her futon, Kelly sucked in her breath and prepared to tell the second lie. “He’s gone,” she said. “He left.”
Then, before Donald had a chance to question her, she closed the phone, hanging up on