Page 73 of The Hard Hitter

rvous glance toward the shelter window. “It’s the moon. It’ll be full tomorrow night.”

Despite the uneasy feeling mushrooming inside Gemma, she laughed at her assistant and followed the long column of silver moonlight illuminating a path along the cement floor. She reached the front lobby of her clinic, now eerily quiet after a demanding day of surgeries, and turned to Victoria. She gave a playful roll of her eyes, and said, “You’ve seen too many scary movies.”

Victoria dabbed gloss to her lips, smacked them together and countered with, “Hey, it could happen.”

Gemma arched a brow, humoring the young girl she’d hired straight out of veterinary college. “You think?”

“Sure.” Victoria’s long, blonde ponytail flicked over her shoulder as she gestured to the no-kill shelter attached to the clinic. “That’s why the dogs are barking.” Her green eyes widened and her voice sounded conspiratorial when she added, “They can sense the big, bad wolf out there, ready to shred a human’s heart into a million tiny pieces.”

“I hate to break it to you, Victoria,” Gemma said, grinning at her assistant’s antics, “but werewolves don’t exist.” Even though Gemma didn’t believe in the supernatural, there was nothing she could do to ignore the jittery feeling that had been plaguing her all day. The truth was, the dogs weren’t the only ones feeling antsy and out of sorts on this hot summer night.

Her assistant held her arms up and jangled the big, silver charm bracelets lining her wrists. “Well I’m not taking any chances, which is why I’ve armed myself with silver.”

Before Gemma could respond, the office phone started ringing. As Victoria turned her attention to the caller, Gemma dimmed the lights and made her way to the front door to stare out into the ominous night. She stole a glance skyward and took in the mosaic of stars shimmering against the velvet backdrop. Even though the Austin night was calm, with not a cloud to be found in the charcoal sky, deep inside Gemma could sense a strange new ripple in the air. It left her feeling ill at ease. She placed a hand over her stomach, unable to shake the feeling that all was not right in her world.

Honestly, she had no reason to feel apprehensive or troubled, considering she finally had everything she ever wanted—her own clinic in the city, a no-kill shelter to help re-home animals, and an upcoming banquet that would hopefully raise enough funds to expand her animal sanctuary before she had to start turning pets away.

Swallowing down her edginess, Gemma set the deadbolt and was about to switch the sign from Open to Closed when a tall, dark figure stepped from the inky shadows. She sucked in a quick breath and felt a measure of panic as the very male, very familiar figure came into view.

Speaking of the big, bad wolf.

“Oh. My. God,” she rushed out breathlessly.

“Is everything okay?” Victoria asked from behind the counter.

Instead of answering, Gemma’s shaky hands went back to the deadbolt, certain she had to be hallucinating. The bell overhead jangled as she pulled the door open and the second she came face to face with the man from her past, the same man who’d rebuffed her seduction days after her seventeenth birthday, she feared nothing would ever be okay again.

Moving with the confidence of a man on a mission, he came closer, the long length of his powerful legs eating up the black sidewalk in record time. Even in the dark she’d recognized that hard body of his, developed from hardcore military training rather than endless hours in some sleek gym. Her gaze took in the leather motorcycle jacket stretched over broad shoulders before traveling back to his chiseled face. Dark, penetrating eyes—harder now from having seen too much carnage—locked on hers, and the raw strength of the impact hit like a physical blow.

He came barreling through her front door. “Gemma,” he rushed out breathlessly. The urgency in his voice had the fine hairs on the back of her neck spiking with worry.

“Cole,” she somehow managed to say around a tongue gone thick as she stumbled backward. “What…how…?” She choked on her words as she glanced past his shoulders to see where he’d come from. She’d been positive that after the funeral last year she’d never set eyes on this man again, and if she did, their chance meeting wouldn’t go down like this.

Worried eyes full of dark concern cast downward. “Gemma…it’s…it’s Charlie…he’s hurt…” Cole’s fractured words fell off and that’s when Gemma’s gaze dropped.

Her heart leaped into her throat and she instantly snapped into professional mode when she caught the silhouette of the Labrador Retriever bundled in his arms. “Follow me.” Jumping into action she turned and found Victoria rushing down the hall toward Exam Room 1, already a step ahead of them.

Gemma moved with haste and worked to quiet her racing heart. “Tell me exactly what happened.” She kept her tone low and her voice controlled in an effort to calm Cole and minimize his anxiety.

Keeping pace, he followed close behind her, his feet tight on her heels. “We were out for a run in Sherwood Park,” he began. “A squirrel sidetracked him, and he veered off the beaten path. He was jumping a log and didn’t see the sharp branch sticking up.”

She stole a quick glance over her shoulder and when dark, intense eyes focused on hers, her stomach clenched. “It’s going to be okay, Cole. I promise.” She drew a breath and gave a silent prayer that it was a promise she could keep. Gemma pushed through the swinging door and gestured with a quick nod toward the sterile examination table while she hurried to ready herself.

Understanding her silent command, Cole secured the whimpering dog onto the prep counter. Gemma’s heart pinched when he placed a solid, comforting hand on the animal’s head and spoke in soothing tones while Victoria went to work on preparing the pre-surgical sedative.

Gemma scrubbed in quickly and put on her surgery gear. She gave the dog a once-over before she dabbed at the blood to assess the depth of the wound. Angling her head, she cast Cole a quick glance. “Why don’t you take a seat in the other room. This could take a while.”

“I’m staying,” Cole said firmly, their gazes colliding in that old familiar battle of wills.

Uncomfortable with the idea of him watching while she worked, and fully aware that he was a distraction she didn’t need during surgery, she urged, “It could get messy.”

“I’ve seen blood before, Gemma.” With his feet rooted solidly, he folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not leaving him.”

“Cole—”

“I’m fine.”

Not wanting to waste time with a debate and knowing Cole was a bomb expert who’d seen his fair share of blood in the field, she gestured toward the chair in the corner. Once Cole stepped away, she cleansed the animal’s wounds and continued her assessment.

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