Taming the Moon. Sherrill Quinn

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      “Tucson, here I come,” she whispered and quietly made her way around the house to the front. Once she was far enough away that she was sure he wouldn’t hear her, she broke into a run to the closest main street and flagged down a taxi.

      The next evening, Sully watched the passing scenery from the backseat of Declan’s Mustang as they made their way from the airport. They’d already been on the road for thirty minutes. “I’d no idea you lived so far from town,” he commented.

      “We haven’t technically left the city.” Declan brought the car to a stop at a traffic light. “This is still part of Tucson.”

      The mountains to the north were closer, and Sully found himself envying Declan—however briefly—for the chance to live with such raw beauty all around him. The bright blue sky contrasted with the craggy slag heaps, and the desert floor held cacti and other plants flowering in yellows, purples, and oranges.

      Still, he’d called London home for over twenty years. This place, while beautiful, was too quiet. Too untamed.

      As if to prove his point, a scrawny-looking dog crossed the road to his right.

      “Coyote.” Pelicia twisted in the passenger seat. She glanced back at Declan. “Right?” At his nod she looked at Sully. “They’re all over the place out here, Declan says. That and javelina—they’re somewhat like pigs—bobcats…oh, and let’s not forget the rattlesnakes and scorpions,” she added with a sidelong glance at Declan. “Declan showed me my first rattlesnake yesterday while we were out for a walk.”

      “What did he do, point to himself in a mirror?” Sully muttered.

      “For God’s sake, boyo, let it go.” Declan shot him a dark glance over his shoulder. As he turned forward again the light turned green. He drove through the intersection. “What’s done is done. You need to deal with it. Besides,” he went on in a blithe tone, “no snakes have gotten into the house, and the scorpions are usually dead by the time we find them.” He laughed at Pelicia’s little roll of her eyes and cupped his right hand behind her head, beneath the single plait of blond hair that rested against her back.

      Sully saw his fingers stroke behind her ear, and the two shared a look that made envy curl around his gut.

      The image of a woman with long, dark hair and a sexy ass flitted into his mind. Along with it came the remembered scent he associated with her—light citrus mixed with warm woman. Damn. He should’ve followed that woman by his terrace house in London, at least gotten her phone number.

      So you could…what? Have her over for dinner some night à la Hannibal Lecter?

      He scowled and folded his arms over his chest.

      Declan met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Anyway, you might find there are some advantages now when it comes to doin’ your job.”

      “Advantages on the job, you say?” Sully shifted in his seat and raised his eyebrows. “You mean, like I can run faster?”

      “Aye.”

      “And see more clearly and at farther distances?” He kept his tone even with an effort.

      Declan nodded.

      “And that my senses of smell and hearing are better?”

      Declan glanced around with a slight frown as if Sully’s too-sedate tone was finally getting through to him. “Aye,” he drawled slowly.

      “And try to rip out the throat of my suspect and so perhaps lose said job?” Sully clamped his jaws together against the howl of rage threatening to break free. Regardless that the Chief had sent him on a personal leave rather than an administrative one, the outcome could still be the same.

      He could be sacked.

      If he couldn’t be a cop…He drew in a breath. Serving at the Yard was all he knew. If he couldn’t be a cop, he didn’t know what else to do. Going home to his family’s estate was out of the question, though he knew his mother would love for him to come home. But living the life of a rich, pampered sot wasn’t for him.

      Making a difference in people’s lives by getting bad guys off the street—that was what he was all about.

      “That happened because you haven’t yet learned how to control the wolf.” Declan didn’t bother to hide the irritated growl in his deep voice. “If you’d listened to me in the first place—”

      “It was because I listened to you in the first place”—Sully leaned forward—“that I’m in this fucking mess.” He slumped in his seat. “Never mind,” he muttered, interrupting Declan’s retort and avoiding Pelicia’s gaze. He didn’t want to make her feel any guiltier over what had happened to him than she already did. “Just”—he met Declan’s gaze in the rearview mirror—“tell me that when I go home in six weeks I won’t be trying to eat my suspects.”

      “You won’t be tryin’ to eat your suspects.”

      Pelicia twisted again in her seat, her gaze bright with compassion mingled with lingering remorse. She said in a quiet voice, “This is something you can learn to live with, Sully. Once you’ve learned how to control your emotions, you’ll see a marked difference in your reaction to things.”

      Sully gave a nod. That he’d have to wait and see about.

      “Here we are.” Declan turned the car onto a gravel driveway, winding between tall green cacti with arms and smaller purple cacti with flat, circular appendages. “I’ve put you in the guesthouse—reckoned you’d want some time alone, and some space—but you’re more than welcome to stay with us in the main house if you’d prefer.”

      “The guesthouse is fine.” Preferable, truth be told. With a sense of wonder Sully took in the sprawling adobe house with its southwestern architecture. So very alien compared to what he was used to in London. “This is…different.”

      Pelicia grinned and opened the door. As she got out of the car she said, “Yes, we don’t see much of this style of house in England, do we?” She pulled the lever to move the seat forward so Sully could climb out of the back.

      “No, we don’t.” Arms above his head, Sully stretched, working kinks out of his muscles brought on by the nearly forty-five minute ride. So many new smells—predominantly one of citrus. He glanced around and saw two lemon trees at one side of the house.

      “So?” Declan walked around to the boot of the car and popped the lid. “What do you think? I mean, I realize it’s not the same as the stately old manor house you grew up in, but—”

      “Shut it.” Sully took the big suitcase Declan handed to him. Looking at the gravel, he realized he’d be better off carrying the thing rather than trying to wheel it over the uneven surface.

      “The guesthouse is this way.” Pelicia took his small overnight case from the boot and started around one side of the house.

      Sully obediently fell in line behind her, aware of Declan bringing up the rear with a third suitcase, smaller than the one Sully carried.

      “You brought more luggage than a woman,” Declan muttered.

      “Shut СКАЧАТЬ