Wolf Tales IV. Kate Douglas
lanky with dark hair that never stayed combed, he reminded Lisa of her older brother when they were kids.
Funny, she’d been thinking of Baylor today, especially considering the man she’d just met. Lisa climbed out of the truck and waved to Tinker as he pulled the little red convertible into a parking spot near the visitor’s center.
Silly name for a man that size. He had to be six and a half feet tall if he was an inch, with broad shoulders and muscled thighs even his loose pants couldn’t disguise. There weren’t many men who made Lisa feel small, but he’d done it back there on the highway. Stepping up close to shake her hand, he’d surprised her with his sheer size, with the graceful way he moved in spite of his height and muscular build.
Seth came back outside with the wheeled cart and opened the tailgate. “Eeeww. Gross.” He pulled on rubber gloves and reached for the dead deer.
“Here. I’ll help you.” Tinker reached for the animal’s front legs.
Seth stopped him. “Mister, you’re always supposed to wear rubber gloves when you handle this stuff. It can carry all kinds of diseases.”
Tinker grinned at Lisa. She felt her skin grow hot. She always forgot about the damned gloves. “Oh, you are? I didn’t realize that.” He held his hand out. “I’m Tinker McClintock. A friend of Ms. Quinn’s.”
Lisa slanted a glance at Tinker. We’ll see about that.
Yes. We definitely will.
Lisa blinked. How the hell…? She had to have been imagining the sound of his voice in her head. Lisa blinked again and smiled at Seth. She had the strangest feeling the high school student was suddenly eyeballing Tinker as a potential rival. At least Seth managed to shake the man’s hand without making a scene.
Lisa felt like her head was spinning when Tinker took the extra set of gloves from Seth and helped load the dead animals onto the cart. It was almost as if she and this stranger were communicating on some unspoken level. The same way it had been last night when she sat among the wolves; except then she’d seen images and now she was hearing voices.
Aware of an unexpected flash of arousal and a sudden rush of moisture between her thighs, Lisa realized communication wasn’t the only thing similar to her experience last night. She caught her breath against the tide of need surging through her body.
“Ms. Quinn?” Seth was standing in front of her as if waiting for a comment. She’d missed whatever he must have said. Lisa took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face.
“I’m sorry, Seth. What?”
“I said, Mr. Dunlop was looking around the place this morning. I was wondering why he’s here.”
Lisa took a deep breath and sighed. The benefactor of the sanctuary rarely set foot on the premises, but the one time Lisa had met him, she’d felt extremely uncomfortable in his presence. Weird, really, to react like that, especially since he was the one with the money that made the sanctuary possible. “He does own the place, so I guess he can come anytime he wants.” She forced a soft laugh. “Thanks for telling me, Seth. If I find out anything that’s going on, I’ll be sure and let you know.”
“Mr. Anderson acted like it was no big deal that the owner had showed up unannounced.” Seth snorted and then laughed. “He sure was bowing and scraping, though, when Mr. Dunlop’s limo pulled in.”
“Well, Mr. Dunlop is the reason these wolves are still alive. He spends a lot of money to keep the sanctuary viable.”
Seth nodded. “Yeah. I know…He’s just sort of a weird dude, and Mr. Anderson is a turd.” With a defiant glance toward the main office, Seth lifted the handles on the cart and pushed the heavy load into the barn.
Lisa watched him until he disappeared into the shadows, then turned her attention to Tinker. She’d felt his presence, almost as if he were in her head, thinking her thoughts. Thank goodness he wasn’t there now. It hadn’t been an uncomfortable feeling, sharing space in her mind with someone else, but it was definitely strange.
She watched as he peeled the rubber gloves off his big hands and tossed them in the nearby trash. Stared at him and wondered just who the hell he was and why she felt this strange connection that went so far beyond mere physical attraction.
He stared right back at her. “Is there someplace where we can talk? There’s a lot I need to tell you, and it’s not something we can discuss in public.”
Lisa blinked again, caught herself mid-question, and nodded. “We both need to wash up first. Seth wasn’t kidding about the germs and stuff. Then let me check in at the office, let them know I’ll be away for a while. I need to tell them the winch died…again. Maybe with Mr. Dunlop around we can get a new one.” She flashed a broad grin at Tinker. “We can go to my place. It’s just up the road. My Jeep’s in the parking lot out back.”
Lisa caught herself, hearing her words as if they’d been spoken by someone else. She couldn’t believe she’d invited him home! Oddly enough, she trusted Tinker McClintock, a man she’d known for less than an hour. Lord knew why, but she didn’t fear him. It almost made her laugh, to think she was taking a strange man into her home, she who rarely had anything at all to do with men.
Tinker parked his rental car next to her beat-up old Jeep and waited until Lisa got out and glanced his way, silently inviting him to follow. The cabin she lived in was small, set off from the road in a copse of old growth fir, almost completely hidden from view until one followed the narrow drive from the main road.
It fit her. Fit everything about her. Tinker smiled in anticipation. What he intended to tell Lisa Quinn would rock her world. Rock it, then set it upright for the first time in her life. He knew exactly what she would think, what she would feel.
He’d been there. Not all that long ago, he’d been there.
The memories hit Tinker hard and fast, jarred him more than usual. He’d just finished his tour of duty in Afghanistan, returned to the States, and wondered what the hell he was going to do next. The military hadn’t answered his questions, hadn’t fulfilled the unnamed need in his life. Nothing had, until he met Ulrich Mason.
Tall, silver-haired, imposing as hell, yet with a gift of understanding that Tinker envied to this day. Ulrich had invited him to San Francisco, asked him to come to a meeting with his company, an investigative agency he called Pack Dynamics.
The irony of the name was no longer lost on Tinker. At the time, though, Mason had merely explained that he’d sensed something in Martin McClintock that no one else had seen. Something different.
Something unbelievable. Mason had talked about an ancient species of shapeshifters—men and women who could change from human to wolf in a heartbeat. Not werewolves of the horror movie variety. No, the Chanku were different. Better. Independent of the moon or seasons or hormones. Driven only by their need to be one with the pack, their amazing sexuality, their loyalty to their one true mate, to their brothers and sisters within their strongly connected family.
It had all seemed like a wild fantasy until Mason did the unbelievable. He’d shifted. Stripped out of his neat business suit right there in the front room of his Marina District home, stripped down buck-naked, and turned into a huge wolf right in front of Tinker.
Definitely one of those moments a man doesn’t forget. He’d scared the shit out of Tinker. Then Ulrich had shifted back to his familiar human self, casually put his clothes back on, and explained to Tinker that he was certain they were brothers under the skin.
Chanku. Shapeshifters. Members of an ancient race born on the Tibetan steppe, creatures of those rugged plains who had spread out and moved far from their homeland. They’d gone far enough away to miss the special grasses and plants that provided the traces of specific nutrients that fed a small gland at the base of their brains, a tiny organ near the hypothalamus that allowed them to shift from human to wolf and back again.
Tinker had wanted so badly to believe, so much to belong to something remotely close