How to Howl at the Moon (21 page)

The fact that none of his plants germinated.

The fact that his dog Chance had gone missing.

The fact that a fucking drug cartel had shot up his property and ruined what was left of his dreams.

The target of shame for al
l of it was on Lance’s forehead
. Or maybe on his heart.

He couldn’t figure out where it had all gone so horribly wrong. Each step along the way had
seemed
reasonable at the time. He was just doing his job making sure the suspicious new resident wasn’t growing drugs, he’d had no cruel or malicious intent. And the Chance thing—yeah, that had definitely been iffy. Lance could admit now that there’d been a part of him, even at the very beginning, that had been attracted to Tim and wanted an excuse to spend time with him. Then his mother—Lance should have cottoned on to that little trick of hers long before he did. It wasn’t like he’d blabbed around town about suspecting Tim of growing drugs. There’d only been that call to Sam Miller in Fresno. And he’d told Roman. And, dear God, his mother. Hell.

A dozen threads of reasonable—okay, mildly questionable—choices had led to disaster for
Tim. Lance had never felt worse about himself in his life.

The thing that really hurt was that he loved Tim, and he only wanted to make things better for him. It had taken Lance so long to find someone he wanted in his life. Now that relationship was ruined.

But it wasn’t in Lance’s dog nature to wallow. It was his nature to
do
.

He had to fix this, whatever it took.

Lance fell asleep at his desk around five in the morning. He woke up to the sound of someone clearing their throat.

He sat up abruptly to find Roman standing in front of his desk in military posture, feet spread, hands behind his back, chin up. Lance could sense the emotions running high in him—excitement, determination, and simmer of anger and regret.

“Sorry to wake you, sir.” Roman’s gaze remained locked straight in front of him.

“No, I’m glad you’re here. I was worried about you.”

“I was out of communication because when I shifted into my dog form I left my phone behind.”

“I figured as much. We found your phone in the greenhouse.”

Roman clenched his jaw. “Yes, sir. I wanted to say—I’m very sorry, sir.”

“Sorry?” Lance blinked, still trying to wake up. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

Roman hesitated, a slight frown the only thing that betrayed his turmoil, but Lance could smell it on him. “It was my job to protect the town, and I failed.”

Lance growled, low in his throat. “Jesus, Roman, it’s wasn’t your job to protect the town. It was mine.”

“But you delegated the drug watch to me, sir.”

“You were to patrol, nothing more. And you did warn me about those strange men you saw. Lily said the shooter’s truck was silver, but was it them?”

“Yes, sir. One of the shooters last night was a man I’d seen previously in the black truck.”

“Well, see there? You spotted them. I was the one who said we couldn’t do anything about them until they did something illegal.”

Roman hesitated. “Yes, sir. But I should have been able to stop the damage they did.”

“There were three men with guns. You would have gotten yourself killed. You did the right thing, Roman. Now tell me what happened last night.”

So Roman did. He’d been in the greenhouse on the phone with Lance when he heard the gunfire.

“My first thought was for Lily and Renfield. They were in the house and the only ones on the premises by then. I didn’t have a gun on me, only a Bowie knife. But I got out my weapon and approached the house. I saw the shooters, but they didn’t see me. There were three of them and they were firing at the house. Then they started walking toward the greenhouse. I saw Lily in her dog form and Renfield slipping into the woods, so I knew they were safe. At that point, I… had to make a call.”

“We found your clothes near a back window of the cabin.”

“Yes, sir. I didn’t think I could stop them without a gun, but I hoped I could track them. I knew they couldn’t harm anyone with Lily and Renfield out of the picture. But I am sorry, sir. I suppose Mr. Traynor was very upset at the damage.”

“It’s broken glass. It can be fixed. Go on.”

“I changed into my dog form and ran around the side of house. They saw me, but since I didn’t attack them, they ignored me. I noted the details of their truck while they were shooting up the greenhouse. I have the license plate number.”

“Excellent.”

“Fortunately, I’d parked down the road, in case you and Tim came back and you didn’t want him to see me. I ran to my truck, changed back to human, and prepared to follow them. The man from the black truck knew my vehicle from that day at the viewpoint, but there was nothing I could do about that.”

“No. I suppose you had spare clothes in the truck?”

“Yes, sir.”

Lance nodded, relieved he didn’t have to imagine Roman driving around the county nude. “Go on.”

“When they pulled out of Tim’s driveway, they were going fast. I followed them down the hill, hanging back and keeping my lights off. They didn’t see me.” An expression of disgust crossed Roman’s stoic face. “In fact, they didn’t spot me the entire time driving down 41. Their truck wove a little. They might have been high, or maybe just goofing off. If they’d been paying attention, they would have spotted me.”

“I’m sure you were very good at not being seen.”

“I tried, sir. I followed them all the way to Coarsegold. They pulled onto a dirt lane so I parked my truck and changed. I followed them on all fours.”

“Good work, Roman. And?”

“There’s a compound outside of Coarsegold. An old house back off the road. I saw four vehicles and smelled at least five men plus the three that did the shooting. In the back, they had acres of cannabis. Pine trees hide the place from the road, but it ought to be visible by helicopter.”

Coarsegold was over an hour away, well out of Lance’s area of concern. He was glad the cannabis farm wasn’t any closer. But even so, he’d report it. “Can you find it on a map?”

“Yes, sir.”

Lance got up from behind his desk and went over to clap Roman on the shoulder. “Excellent work, Roman. We’re lucky to have you to help protect this town.”

Roman’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Thank you, sir.”

What Lance could feel pouring off him now was gratitude and affection—the start of a true pack bond. Lance felt a sense of satisfaction about that. But whatever he’d done right with Roman, it was nothing compared to the wrong he’d done to Tim. Tim, the human that he loved.

*                          *                         *

Tim worked until one o
’clock in the morning. Fortunately the light bulbs in the greenhouse ceiling were high enough to have escaped the carnage, though their light felt harsh and accusatory glinting off all the glass.

He swept aside the worst of the shards but then left them on the floor, focusing his efforts on the plants. Many of them were broken and damaged beyond salvation, but he cleaned out several seed trays, filled them with potting soil he scraped off the greenhouse floor, and replanted everything that looked like it might possibly survive. He watered them with H2O and gut-felt prayers.

The young plants had been healthy and sturdy before the shooting. Someone had taken good care of them. But the fact that they were
his plants
, and someone had taken them and kept them from his care, continued to make him furious and hurt every time he thought about it. It was so bizarre, so hard to believe. What was
wrong
with Lance and Lily?

He should have known. Any guy who was that good-looking and a) was single and b) had essentially proclaimed his devotion on their first date, had to be completely mental. No wonder Lance hadn’t been snatched up before now. And Tim had wanted it all to be true so badly!

Soft, wounded thoughts swirled in his brain like a background dirge as he tapped down tender roots and crafted tiny splints for wobbly stems. He ignored the blood on his fingers from the all-but-invisible slivers
of glass
that dusted everything.

When he fell into bed that night, mentally and physically exhausted, he had a terrible nightmare about being hunted and attacked by a pack of dogs. Their teeth were made of glass.

*                          *                         *

When Tim woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of large machinery. Before he was fully awake, he thought it was a garbage or delivery truck in Marshall
’s moderately upscale neighborhood. Then he remembered he wasn’t in Santa Barbara anymore; he was in Mad Creek.

He sat up abruptly. Whatever was going on, it was
happening on Linda’s property
. A surge
of anger had him out of bed and tugging on jeans and a sweatshirt. God damn insufferable, interfering people! What did it take to get them to leave him alone?

He pushed out the back door to see a tractor in his field turning the sod in the bright morning light. It was going over the pathetic bit he’d done himself and making it look like a real plowed field. There were half a dozen people in the greenhouse, cleaning apparently, and a man in white overalls was on a ladder measuring the broken greenhouse windows.

Tim stood there for a moment, taking it in. He was angry, but… well… if they were going to do a bunch of labor for him, he wasn’t so proud he’d force them to leave. He’d sunk too low not to take any handout he could get. In fact, gratitude was making a sly move on the outside, creeping up on him—especially at the sight of that beautiful, ground-churning tractor. Still, he crossed his arms and glowered.

“I brought you coffee.” Lance appeared at his side and handed Tim a large drink from the little coffee shack in town. It smelled like a mocha, a treat Tim loved but could rarely afford. Lance had Renny on a leash. The puppy immediately jumped up on Tim’s legs, his tail going like a rotor blade. He looked so fucking happy.

Tim could ignore Lance, but the puppy? Not a chance. He bent down and scratched Renny’s ears with his free hand. “You should learn not to jump up,” he told the pup. “Guess your new owner will have to teach you that.”

Tim refused to look at Lance, or drink from the fragrant cup he held, even though he wanted the coffee badly.

“Listen,” Lance said, in a soft voice. “I know you’re angry with me, and I don’t blame you one bit. But we’re a community here, and we’re not going to let you deal with this alone. I’m taking care of the greenhouse windows and the broken ones in the cabin too. They’ll be installed tomorrow. Lily’s got a clean-up crew working, and your field will be plowed and compost mixed in, donated by Grovener’s. It’s organic, so they say. And Ruth at Franklin’s greenhouse sent over a bunch of her vegetable seedlings that are about the same size as yours were. Plus, you can order more seeds from wherever you prefer to get them and the expense will be covered.”

Tim had to look up at Lance then. He was still hurt, deeply, and it hurt him more to look at Lance’s handsome face, to remember what role he’d thought Lance might play in his life. Tim
knew he should refuse Lance’s help. But it wasn’t like he had any other resources. And taking it didn’t mean he had to be gullible to Lance or his mother again, right?

“Thank you,” Tim forced out at last. “I do appreciate the help. But this doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

“I know. I want to explain more, but I’d rather wait until this is done and… and you’re not so vulnerable.”

If I’m vulnerable, it’s your damn fault.
Tim didn’t say it, but he frowned harder. “This is all for nothing. When Linda finds out what happened, she’ll probably kick my ass out anyway.”

“Well, she doesn’t have to know about it. The greenhouse will be better than it was before, and I have a guy working on the wood chips in the logs out front. He says he can patch them up so you’d never know they were there.”

“But I
should
tell her,” Tim insisted.
I’m not dishonest like you.

Lance flushed, as if reading his mind. “Okay. That’s fine. I’m happy to talk to her as the sheriff and let her know it was a case of mistaken identity and that you’ve gotten everything cleaned up. We can make it sound like it was no big deal.”

Tim swallowed, thinking that was pretty solid of Lance, even though it didn’t change his mind about trusting him. He watched the tractor cleave through the middle of the field. A dump truck carrying what looked like good, rich compost backed up close to the edge of the field and made a mountain of shining black gold. Wow.
T
hat shit was expensive.

For the first time since they’d pulled into the driveway the night before, the pain in Tim’s chest eased a little. Maybe… maybe he would survive this after all.

“I saved some of the plants. Maybe a quarter of them,” Tim admitted. It seemed like he should offer something since Lance was doing all this.