Page 36 of Sweethearts and Savages
Walking into the small diner, a pretty girl stepped up to me. “Morning, Mister. Table for one?” she cooed, her eyelashes fluttering.
I gave her a wide smile. “Thanks, near the window if I could.”
“Sure thing.”
She led me to a booth right in front of my truck and I thought I might tip her extra. I looked at her pert little ass under her denim skirt. Maybe I’d give her more than the tip.
“Can I get you coffee?”
I nodded. “And eggs, over easy. Extra bacon.”
Her eyes watched my lips as I spoke, and I didn’t need to be a mind reader to gauge her interest. When she brought back my coffee and put it on my other side so she could rub her breasts across my arm, it made it pretty fucking obvious too.
It was like five a.m. which was too damn early for flirting, but it had been a long time since I’d last got my dick wet, so maybe I’d take her up on what she was offering. The fact that there was hardly anyone in here except the odd trucker meant the food came out damn fast, and if I wasn’t staying under the radar smuggling supernatural creatures, I’d give it a damn good Yelp review. As it was, I called for the check and the girl pouted at me. Her lips were cherry red, and her skin was smooth as cream. She looked tasty.
“You sure there isn’t anything else I can get you?” she purred.
I looked her up and down, snagging on her breasts as she leaned over my table. “Sure, just looking for the bathrooms.”
She eyeballed my face a little longer. “They’re around the back. Let me show you.”
I followed the woman—fuck, I didn’t even know her name—out of the diner and around the side of the building.
She looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Here’s the ladies’ restroom.”
I laughed low, stepping into her body. “I ain’t no lady, sweetheart.”
“Oh, I know. Me either.”
She grabbed my shirt and dragged me into the first cubicle. I had her skirt up and my dick buried deep before you could say “keep the change.”
Today was really my fucking day.
The sun was comingup before I turned onto the long road that would take me to the cabin I’d bought a couple of hours out of Yellowknife. I’d bought it with cash, it was entirely off grid. It was little more than a run-down shack with a fireplace, but it was all I needed. I was far enough away from any form of civilization that no one would hear a thing.
I pulled up in front of the cabin, burned up adrenaline running under my skin. I was so close to keeping my promise. So close to the end. Where I could just live my life for me, and not for a ghost.
I drew my gun, walking slowly around to the back of the truck. The drugs might have worn off and the last thing I wanted was to get mauled to death, or worse, turned into a monster too. I pulled back the tarp and sucked in an ice cold breath.
Fuck.
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.
There wasn’t a wolf in my truck anymore. There was a girl—she couldn’t have been more than twenty, and she was naked. Worse still, she was blue. I touched her skin and it was like ice.
Shit, shit, shit. I’d killed a girl.
In the back of my brain was my dad’s voice, telling me that it wasn’t a girl, it was a monster, and one less of those in the world was a good thing. Still, I couldn’t question a corpse, and she might know something useful.
I felt for a pulse, and exhaled the breath I’d been holding at the slow thump. Not dead. Thank fuck. I pulled her from the truck far more gently than I’d put her in there, shucking my jacket and wrapping her up in it. She was a tiny thing, and I could wrap her up tight.
I walked her into the cabin and laid her gently on the couch. I needed to start a fire and warm her up slowly. Dropping her in the shower would shock her heart or some shit. I wasn’t a prepper, I was a bounty hunter, for god’s sake. Still, I lit the fire as quick as I could, setting it to burn hot and hard. Then I grabbed all the blankets stored in this shithole cabin and dropped them on her.
I knew body warmth was best, but my mama hadn’t raised me to take advantage of unconscious girls. Especially naked, unconscious girls. She was just going to have to warm herself, and I’d do what I could from out here.
I buried her so deep in blankets that I couldn’t see her. And if I couldn’t see her, I couldn’t see the evidence of my mistake. My father used to say something was only a mistake if it could look you in the eye and tell you so. Everything else was just collateral in life.
He’d made it very obvious that he was talking about me when he was imparting that piece of life wisdom. I was his mistake.
