Fires Of Solstice Part 8

A broad smile on her face, Meredythe looked up. "Can I?"

He smiled back at her. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't think it would be safe."

"Wait a minute, Frank," Jon interjected. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Frank winked over his shoulder. "Anything the little lady wants."

Jon took one nervous step into the room. "Meredythe, I don't know about this."

She rose and stepped back from the kennel. "Relax, Jon. If Frank says she's safe, she is. He wouldn't risk his professional reputation."

Throwing a smirk over his shoulder, Frank opened Sweetie's kennel and snapped a leash on her collar. "Come on, girl. Got someone here to meet you."

Tail wagging, tongue lolling out, Sweetie leaped out of her kennel and pushed her head under his hand.

"Sit."

Sweetie obeyed.

"Just hold out your hand and let her get to know you."

Jon took another step into the room. "Meredythe!"

She waved him off. "Oh, be quiet. She's not a wild animal. She won't hurt me."

Holding out her hand, Meredythe moved forward slowly. Sweetie stretched out her nose and sniffed. Rising to her feet, she licked Meredythe's hand and wagged her tail.

Stepping closer, Meredythe ran her hand over Sweetie's fur. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the soft, wiry texture of the wolf-dog's fur. Unbidden, a pair of muscular forearms covered with springy black hairs appeared in her memory. A pair of gray eyes gazed into hers.

The wolf-dog sighed and leaned against her leg.

Meredythe opened her eyes and smiled at Frank. "She's beautiful."

"Yes she is," agreed Frank. "If all hybrids were like her, we wouldn't have any more problems with them than we do regular dogs."

Meredythe pointed to the wolf-dog in the second kennel. "What about that one?"

"This is Jocko. Come on, Sweetie, back in you go." After he returned Sweetie to her kennel, Frank opened the second one and snapped a leash on the black male. He came out of the kennel with a low growl.

Jon swallowed and stepped back toward the door. "Jesus, Frank."

"Don't worry, Jon," he said with a chuckle. "Jocko's a gentleman. He was just warning you to stay out of his personal s.p.a.ce."

"He's not dangerous?" Meredythe asked. She was dying to pet Jocko as she did Sweetie, but she wouldn't do so without an invitation. Silvery-gray eyes appeared in her mind. The wolf-dog, Jocko, stared at her and woofed. Frank's voice brought her back to the present.

"Jocko is half wolf, half Husky. His previous master made the mistake of bringing him along when he moved back from Alaska. Jocko couldn't handle the culture shock."

"Didn't you say that prost.i.tute saw a black dog attack her pimp?" Jon asked from the doorway.

Meredythe glanced back over her shoulder and then looked at Frank. "Jocko didn't get out last night, did he, Frank?"

"No!" he answered emphatically as he put Jocko back in his kennel. "Last night Jocko and the others were in New Jersey."

Ruthlessly squashing her musings, Meredythe made a note on her pad. She was a reporter, d.a.m.n it. She didn't have time for daydreaming. She looked up at Frank. He was probably telling the truth, but it wouldn't hurt to double-check. She looked at the last kennel. "Who's the last one?"

"That's Hammer," Frank answered with a sad sigh as he latched Jocko's kennel and stepped toward the last kennel. A low growl erupted into a full snarl. Frank stopped where he was. "He won't be coming out to meet you."

Waves of grief and despair so strong she almost gagged on them rolled out of the kennel and poured over Meredythe. A sharp pain pierced her mind.

Save me.

As quickly as it had manifested, the pain subsided. She blinked and shook her head slightly. What was wrong with her? First she couldn't stop dreaming about a jerk with black hair and gray eyes no matter how hard she tried. Now she was hearing voices.

Quick glances at both men told her they hadn't noticed. They stood talking as if nothing had happened. What was going on? Without moving any closer, Meredythe knelt and peered into the kennel. "How dangerous is he?"

Frank grimaced and said, "Very. He's a wolf and a Mastiff cross whose owners used him to fight. The only reason he's still alive is because I got to him before the police did."

Meredythe's heart ached. No living thing should feel the way this poor animal did. She leaned over farther, squinting. All she saw was a dark brown blur. "Has he ever attacked a human?"

"If he did, I'd put him down myself," Frank answered. "He was used to fight other dogs."

Fear joined the misery emanating from the kennel.

Meredythe swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

Jon scowled. "What the h.e.l.l did you bring him for if he's so dangerous?"

"He's the whole point of this lecture. The doc wanted to show everybody just how dangerous wolf-dog hybrids could be."

Rising, Meredythe took a deep breath and started writing. She had to get a hold of herself before she collapsed in a puddle of tears. "The doc?"

"Doctor Bleddyn Glyndwr," Frank explained and led the way back out into the hall.

Meredythe's battered emotions began to relax when the door closed. "He's an expert on wolves and knows as much about wolf hybrids as anybody in the country. I've worked with him before. He's giving a lecture today. That's why I'm here."

Meredythe looked up from her notepad. "So if I wanted to know anything about wolves or wolf hybrids, then this Dr. Glyndwr is the man to see?"

Frank nodded. "That's right. I'd be happy to introduce you."

She smiled. "Thanks. I have a few questions I'd like to ask him."

Frank led them from the room, carefully locking the door behind him. "Sure thing."

Meredythe scribbled a few more things on her pad. "Is that door always locked? Could anybody else get in and get one of them out of a kennel without you knowing about it? What about where you keep them at home? Are they always locked up? Does anyone else have access to them?" Frank was probably telling the truth, but she had to ask anyway.

"Look, Ms. Welsh, none of my animals got out last night and killed that guy. If you won't take my word for it, I'll be happy to show you a footprint from each of them. None of them have feet big enough to leave a track that large." With those exasperated words, he turned abruptly and stomped down the hall.

Jon stared after his friend then looked at Meredythe. "Never question Frank's word about his animals. Makes him pretty mad."

"Obviously."

Only a quick blink of her eyes betrayed her regret at Frank's pique. It had taken her almost a year and some very long lectures from James after she lost a couple of stories, but eventually she learned not to let it show how much it hurt when people were distressed or angered by questions. She didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but if she didn't ask the questions, someone else would. That didn't mean she liked it.

Taking her arm, Jon pulled her after his friend. "Come on. I think Frank went this way. You really know how to make friends, don't you?"

She looked away and blinked again. "Asking questions is my job, Jon. Making friends isn't."

"In conclusion," Bleddyn said to his rapt audience, "crossbreeding wolves and domestic dogs is more than irresponsible. It's dangerous."

After half an hour of questions, he cordially excused himself, declining the invitation to the c.o.c.ktail party that had been organized in his honor-much to the chagrin of the department chair's wife. Bleddyn snorted to himself. The last thing he wanted was a bored university wife trying to lure him into her bed.

Rhys led the way behind the stage. "This way. We can avoid the crowd if we go out the back. The car's waiting."

Bleddyn led him in the opposite direction. "I want to check the animals and see Frank first. He's probably going to have to send Hammer to the estate."

Rhys glanced at his companion. "Bad?"

"Hammer won't trust any human, not even Frank. If I could only get my hands on the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who abused him... "

Turning a corner too quickly, he literally ran into Meredythe and the man who was with her. The man bounced off the wall and fell to his knees. She slipped and also would have fallen if Bleddyn hadn't reached out and grabbed her before she could tumble to the ground.

Grateful for the support, Meredythe pushed her hair back out of her face. "Thanks. Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." When he didn't release her, she said, "I'm okay. You can let go of me now." Then she looked up into his face. It was the jerk from her boss's office. He'd shaved since yesterday and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail that emphasized his finely chiseled features. He was also wearing a very well cut, very expensive suit. But his eyes were the same-the same probing, smoky gray that bore into the depths of her soul.

What the h.e.l.l was he doing here?

"You!"

A s.e.xy smile slipped onto his lips. "h.e.l.lo."

Meredythe tried to wrench her arms free, struggling against him and the strange feelings suddenly surging through her body. "Let me go!" She looked into his eyes and lost herself in the pa.s.sion mirrored in them.

Bleddyn reacted without thinking. Meredythe was here, in his arms, and she had stopped struggling. He tightened his grip ever so slightly and pulled her closer. Lowering his head, his lips sought hers.

A shocked gasp escaped her, but she didn't fight him. Instead, she shuddered slightly and flattened her hands against his chest.

A growl began low in Bleddyn's throat. His woman. His.

Someone grabbed his wrist and tugged. "Hey, buddy. What do you think you're doing? Don't you understand English? She told you to let her go."

Caught in the mesmerizing gray mist of his eyes, Meredythe leaned closer. But her bemus.e.m.e.nt and uncertainty were replaced by shock when the pa.s.sion in his eyes changed, became more dangerous, more feral.

Was that a snarl?

At her side, Jon stumbled back. "Who is this guy, Meredythe?"

Meredythe blinked. What was she doing? She wrenched herself free and stepped back. She was tempted to slap him like she had in her office, but remembering his reaction from yesterday, she decided against it. She chose a verbal a.s.sault instead. "Who the h.e.l.l do you think you are, you...you... cretin? I don't know you and I don't want to know you. Come on, Jon. Let's get out of here."

Again it was Rhys' hand on his arm that kept Bleddyn from following her.

Fury burned in Bleddyn's eyes. "She's with another man."

"Calm yourself," his friend soothed. "She's with men every day. It doesn't mean anything. You heard Jim. She doesn't even date. All she's interested in is her career. I'm sure he's just a colleague."

Slowly the tense muscles under Rhys' hand relaxed. Bleddyn unclenched his fists, but the scowl didn't leave his face. "If he's taken her to his bed..."

Rhys shook his head. "You're as much hers as she is yours. No one else will take your place. She won't sleep with another man even if she doesn't understand why."

Turning abruptly, Bleddyn stalked away. He still had to see Frank about Hammer. Besides, if he went after Meredythe now, he just might do something he'd regret.

Meredythe stepped off the elevator grumbling about men and their macho att.i.tudes. Jon Bowers had been entirely too inquisitive about the guy at Columbia. Like she couldn't take care of herself! As if it was any of Jon Bowers' business anyhow! Who the h.e.l.l did Jon think he was?

Her friend Alice laughed. "You don't even have a steady guy and you complain more about men than any other woman I know."

Meredythe dropped her bag on a chair. "Well, they can be such pains in the a.s.s."

Alice grinned. "How was lunch? Was he cute?"

Gray eyes appeared in Meredythe's mind. Cute? The guy was drop-dead gorgeous. "Was who cute?"

"The guy you had lunch with, Kim's partner?"

Another man's face appeared in her mind. "Who? Oh yeah, Jon. How did you know -"

"Kim called and asked if you were back yet," Alice answered with a grin. "He mentioned you were probably having lunch with his partner. So is he cute?"

Closing her eyes, Meredythe sighed and turned. She wouldn't get any work done if she didn't answer Alice. Planting her hands on her hips, she said, "Around six-two, blond hair, blue eyes and dimples to die for. And very intelligent. And he offered to pay for lunch. And he cuts dead people open for a living. Anything else?"

Alice smirked. "That will do for now. By the way, somebody sent you roses."

"Roses? Who?"

Alice stared at her in mock amazement. "Do you think I read the card?"

The corners of Meredythe's mouth twitched as she walked toward her desk. "Envelope sealed?"

Alice followed her to her cubicle. "Well, aren't you going to open the card?"

Meredythe stared at the vase of two dozen blood-red roses sitting on the corner of her desk.

"They came in that vase," interjected Alice as she set the bag next to the desk. "That' s real Waterford crystal. Whoever this guy is, he has great taste."

Meredythe reached for the white envelope that was so obvious against the crimson background. Opening it, she pulled out the card.

I apologize for my actions yesterday. Please forgive me.