Page 25 of Cold Foot Croc

“Are you messing with him? Are you playing head-games? Are you looking for some man to support you and your kid? What is it? Do you need money or protection or something?”

A wave of rage washed through her, and the baby rolled again. She blew out a shaking breath. “I’m going to need just a few moments so I don’t cuss you up and down.”

“You gotta thick accent. Are you from the south?”

“Ask your brother—who I’m not toying with, or seeking money from, or trying to take advantage of. I’m not a charity case, you absolute hamburger. I can take care of myself.”

Dylan snorted, and then cleared his throat, and didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Did you just call me a hamburger?”

“Sure did. I’m trying not to cuss as much lately. I’ve got a kid on the way.”

He cleared his throat again. “So to you, Garret is…”

“Garret is my friend.”

“Is he more?”

She stood and padded across the floor for the light switch as she told him, “I don’t know yet. I’m kind of in a weird place, and I don’t really want to put that on him.”

He inhaled deeply again, and she could hear the static of wind hitting the phone. “He told me someone told him to eat more steak and hunt as the animal. Was that advice from you?”

“Yes. Listen, Dylan? I just need to know if he’s okay. I’m already up and can be out the door in two minutes. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Are you a shifter?”

“Dylan!”

“Please. Just…a couple more questions. I don’t trust anyone around him. Someone did this to him, and then Farrah happened, and I don’t want any more storm on him, do you know what I mean?”

And that was very telling. Raynah’s shoulders relaxed. His brother cared about him, and any ally of Garret’s could be an ally of hers.

As she made her way down the stairs, she told him, “I wouldn’t ever try to hurt him. Garret has been very kind to me.”

Her phone vibrated, and she frowned down at the glowing screen. Dylan had sent her a video.

“Please don’t show that to anyone,” he said softly. “Delete it after you watch it. Please.”

She put him on speakerphone and then opened the video. It didn’t have any volume and the image was grainy, taken from up above the snowy forest. It was of Garret. He was lying in the snow, writhing in pain. The snow around him was red, and he seemed to be stuck in a horrifying in-between state. Patches of his skin were missing, and others were covered in the fur of his grizzly. His face was elongated. He bucked and threw his head back, seizing.

She couldn’t watch any more.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered, her heart tearing for him.

“Can you help him?” Dylan asked.

“How did you get this video?”

“I follow him with a drone at least part of the time, to make sure he isn’t going to turn around and come right to camp and go after me again, or head to town. It’s always like this.”

“Geez,” she whispered, staring at the frozen frame of the video. “Why is he fighting it so hard?”

“I don’t know. I do know I’m not helping as much as I want to. I brought him here thinking we could teamwork this and figure it out together, like we always figured everything out when we were younger, but there’s no improvement. I was cocky. I thought I could get him through this, and functioning, and acting normal, but…”

“But you’re human,” she murmured, finishing his thought.

“I’m human,” he agreed.

“Is he still Changed?”

---