Firewolf. Jenna Kernan

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СКАЧАТЬ recommended Dylan for this job, but now Dylan wondered exactly how his shaman knew this attorney who had lived down here in the valley? And why hadn’t Cheney sent one of his staff to meet Dylan up here on the ridge? If he worked with Meadow’s father, he must have people to do such things.

      “Why did he call you brother bobcat?” she asked.

      “You could hear that?”

      She nodded.

      “Bobcat is my spirit animal.” He pushed up the sleeve of his T-shirt, showing her the tattoo. “This is his track.”

      She stroked a finger over the muscle of his arm and purred, her hand lingering. Dylan’s muscles twitched as he grappled with the tension now overtaking him.

      He stepped back, breaking the connection between them.

      She distracted him. Made it hard for him to think. Now the questions swarmed him again. Buzzing around his head like gnats when he reached the crest of the ridge. Nothing of the building had survived. The explosion had ripped away the rock beneath the building. The infinity edge pool that had floated above the valley on steel legs, the house, garage and guest suite—all gone.

      Dylan checked his phone for calls and found the battery dangerously low. “I’m almost out of juice.”

      “Switch it off and then check it periodically.”

      “Will do.”

      Dylan made another call to his parents’ home and reached his grandfather, Frank. He told him quickly what had happened, and that he was safe and Jack Bear Den was coming to get him. He remembered to tell the old man that he loved him before he disconnected. Frank Florez was the only father Dylan had ever known.

      When he finished, he turned off his phone.

      “That was sweet. Your father?” she asked.

      “Yes, but officially he’s my grandfather. My mother’s father.”

      “What clan?” she asked.

      “Butterfly.”

      “Same as your mother, of course.”

      Dylan could see how Meadow had gotten all A’s in school. She was quick.

      “Can I call my family?” she asked.

      That was a bad idea. Her dad would find out she had survived eventually from his radio communication. But he didn’t want her father knowing exactly where to find them.

      “Not yet.”

      She lifted a brow but said nothing, keeping her thoughts to herself as they continued up the hill.

      He moved farther up and over the ridge. He had left the road to climb past the wreckage and so had not seen beyond the epicenter of the blaze to the pristine pavers of the curving drive that led to the untouched gate and gatehouse beyond the flashpoint of the fire. His mouth quirked in a smile.

      Meadow arrived beside him a moment later. Her face was dangerously red. He gave her the mouthpiece to the camel pack and she took a long drink. Then he led them to the gatehouse. The only standing structure had survived the blast by being well down the private road and back from the ridge. The fire had spared the gatehouse only because prevailing winds had carried the blaze in the opposite direction, westward from the epicenter of the blast.

      The Rustkin gatehouse was larger than his home on the rez. Dylan knocked on the front door but received no answer.

      “You said on the phone the guy would be here,” said Meadow.

      “That’s what Cheney told me.” Dylan tried again, knocking louder. Then they gave up and circled the home. He broke a window in the garage and crawled inside, then disconnected the opener and hauled up the door himself. Meadow stepped inside.

      “Phew,” she said. “Cool in here.” She glanced around. “No cars.”

      Dylan hoped the caretaker was far away because the road that circled down the unscathed side of the mountain met the burning side at the break in the ridgeline. If the caretaker had evacuated, he would not get far.

      She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted a hello. There was no reply. She turned to Dylan. “Well, we have lights and AC.”

      “Generator out back. Saw it on the way in.”

      “Let’s take a look around,” she said.

      She was a bold one, he’d give her that—perhaps a little too daring. Dylan didn’t just charge forward. He was more of a planner.

      “Maybe you should wait here.”

      “Hell with that.”

      Meadow pivoted and led the way down the hall and past the office facing the drive, through the small living space and into the kitchen in the back.

      There she stuck her entire head under the sink faucet and soaked her hair making the blue and purple turn a darker shade. Then she drank until he thought her stomach might rupture.

      When she drew back, she whipped her head up so that the ends sent a spray of water to the ceiling.

      “How do you feel?” he asked.

      “Alive, thanks to you. But I’m dizzy...and what a headache.”

      “Heat exhaustion.” Or heat stroke, he thought.

      “Never had it this bad.” She stepped aside and Dylan drank. Then he soaked his head, letting the lukewarm water wash away the sweat and sand from his short hair. The water was heaven.

      “I’m going to find a bathroom. I need a shower.”

      “I’ll check the generator.”

      She cast him a glance over one shoulder and shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

      Had she been inviting him along? That idea should have sent him in the opposite direction because he did not want to listen to the water running while he imagined Meadow washing her tempting body clean. Instead, he watched her walk away.

      She strode down the hall that presumably led to the bedroom and bath. On the way she dropped the shirt he had lent her, giving him an unforgettable view of her back broken only by the lace bra. He’d kept her from being burned. Every inch of her was perfect, if dirty. Her tan covered her skin all the way to her bottom, which seemed very white by comparison above the scrap of pink lace. She cast a final glance over her shoulder and gave him a wink.

      “You’re up next.” She reached behind her back and unfastened the bra as she turned, heedless of the glimpse she gave him of her body in profile. She was smaller up top than he had imagined, small and round and perfect. Thanks to him.

      Dylan found the generator ran on propane and had switched on automatically when the power quit. How long it would last was just a guess, but he thought this would be the place to bed down tonight. Still, he would be careful about what electricity they used. He did a perimeter check familiarizing himself with his surroundings, then returned to the house and checked the rooms. СКАЧАТЬ