"Epic," she echoed, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows.

That wrinkle always meant she was thinking. Which always led to trouble.

Speaking of trouble. Now that he'd thought about breaking the condom, he was terrified that he had. Wouldn't that just be great? Knocking her up at twenty-eight after managing not to at eighteen?

Would her father gloat about being right that Owen had finally managed to ruin her life? Or just kill him and be done with it? Owen thought he'd prefer the latter. He was certain Dale would too Reggie barked, out in the woods still, but Becca's head spun toward the sound. Her movement caused a slow slide down low and Owen grabbed his d.i.c.k and the condom before disaster happened. He cast a silent thank-you to the dog for the distraction, which allowed him to dispose of the evidence in an old plastic bag before Becca even realized what was going on.

Having s.e.x in the back of a pickup had never been ideal, even when they were young enough for it to make sense.

"We should probably go." She reached for her shirt.

"We should probably talk." He reached for his.

"What about?" The question was m.u.f.fled as she pulled the garment over her face.

He did the same. "What do you think?"

"We had s.e.x, Owen. It wasn't the first time."

He didn't want it to be the last, but he wasn't quite sure how to say that without s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up so badly he would a.s.sure that it would be.

"I hope it isn't the last."

He blinked as his words came out of her mouth.

"You aren't leaving."

"I am," he insisted.

"I meant-" She reached for her panties and pants. "Not right away."

"No," he agreed.

"Then we don't have to stop."

He almost asked what had changed since that morning, when she'd said she didn't want to see him any more while he was here. But, really ... He didn't want to know why. He was just glad that it had.

"Unless you want to," she continued when he remained silent.

"h.e.l.l, no," he said. In fact, his p.e.n.i.s, which had been unresponsive, to say the least, for months, now twitched at the sight of her bare bottom in the twinkle of the early afternoon sunshine. Apparently it didn't want to stop either. And that was so fantastic, he didn't notice at first that she'd stilled, head tilting, forehead crinkling, listening to- The long, low, not distant enough howl of a wolf.

"s.h.i.t." He grabbed his own underwear and jeans. "Reggie!" He whistled.

"She won't hurt him."

"She already did."

"Not on purpose."

"How do you know?"

She bit her lip and didn't answer.

The idea of that wolf, or any wolf, and his still injured dog tangling out there where he couldn't stop them had Owen's heart pounding nearly as hard as it had not so long ago, but for a much less pleasurable reason.

A gunshot sounded.

The two of them scrambled out of the truck and ran for the trees.

The howl that rose before we'd gone more than fifty yards was distinctly different from the original.

Dog howl, not wolf howl. That couldn't be good.

"Go," Owen said. "Don't wait for me."

I didn't have to be told twice. I went.

I glanced back once; he was doing amazingly well. His gimp seemed a lot better. Which made no d.a.m.n sense at all. But what did lately?

In a copse of birch trees, the sun glancing off their autumn-yellow leaves, the wind rustling them and making the sound of ghostly whispers, Reggie sat next to a prostrate Pru, nose tilted upward, howl vibrating his throat. They were alone. No one with a gun, at least that I could see. I probably shouldn't blaze into the open, but I didn't have much choice.

"Hush," I ordered as I did just that.

Reggie lowered his snout. Hurt.

I went to my knees next to Pru. My fingers fluttered over her blue-black fur. I didn't see anything, not even blood. "Where were you shot?"

Pru lifted her head, but almost immediately it fell back down. Her "voice" was weak.

New Bergin.

"That's a hundred and fifty miles from here."

Her chest heaved faster than it should, even for a wolf. Wasn't today.

"I heard a shot."

Wasn't at me.

"I don't understand."

Reggie yipped and trotted into the trees. From the rustles, Owen was almost here. I'd have to stop talking to Pru soon.

I went to New Bergin.

Wolves didn't usually wander that far. They had a territory and they stuck to it. Of course, Pru wasn't your average wolf.

"Why?"

He shot at me before he knew.

I opened my mouth to ask "He who?" or maybe "Knew what?" but she kept going.

Just grazed my flank. Burned like fire, but it proved I wasn't ... She panted several times very fast.

"Wasn't what?"

Dangerous? Rabid? How could a bullet prove that? How could a bullet "prove" anything?

I thought it was healed, but- Pru's rear leg jogged as if she were running in place, and I caught a whiff of something foul. I set my hand lightly on her flank, and she whimpered. A section of fur was damp, a little oily. I pushed it to the side.

"This is infected."

Pru didn't answer. She'd pa.s.sed out. Which was all to the good. It allowed me to probe what did not look anything like a graze.

"That's a bullet hole."

"Since we heard a gunshot"-Owen emerged from the trees-"that makes sense, though why is she unconscious from a bullet to the b.u.t.t?"

"This isn't fresh, and it's festering." I needed to get her to the clinic where I had antibiotics and alcohol and anesthetic and other great things that didn't start with A. I started to slide my arms beneath her.

"Whoa." Owen set a hand on my shoulder. "That's a wolf."

"No moss on you."

"You can't take a wild animal into your clinic."

"Can. Will. Am." I didn't mention that she'd already been there.

"What if she wakes up while you're walking to the truck? Or in the truck? Did you ever see that YouTube video of the guy who put what he thought was a dead deer in his backseat?"

I had. It wasn't as funny as everyone seemed to think it was.

"I'll put her in the truck bed," I said. "Then sit back there with her." All I'd need would be for her to regain consciousness, jump out, and disappear into the forest. She'd die. I couldn't, wouldn't let that happen. She'd saved my life.

"What if she wakes up on the way to the truck and eats my face?"

"Your face?"

Owen scooped up the unconscious wolf and started back the way we'd come. "You don't think I'm going to let her eat your face, do you?"

Twenty minutes later Owen parked the truck in my lot then carried a still unconscious Pru inside. Reggie padded behind him as if Pru were a long-lost friend. I had to wonder what had taken place out in those woods and changed things.

The crime scene tape cordoned off the stairs to my apartment, but my clinic was clear. I motioned for Owen to set the wolf on the exam table as I washed my hands, then started to a.s.semble what I'd need, moving past the As and into the wonderful world of S-scalpel, scissors, sutures. Med school Sesame Street.

"You need help?" Joaquin stood in the doorway.

"Thought I told you to go to school."

"Did." He stepped inside. "Done." I narrowed my eyes, and he held up one hand. "Swear."

"Scrub in."

Reggie whined and set his front paws on the operating table, then licked Pru's chin. A stainless steel bowl fell off the counter, clattering against the floor as loudly as an alarm clock. Owen jumped, then squatted, hunching his shoulders and lowering his head as if to avoid a projectile.

"Sorry!" Had I shifted the bowl too close to the edge when I was grabbing supplies? I could swear I'd actually moved it farther back to avoid just this problem.

My next thought was "Henry" though I couldn't figure out why Pru's ghostly cohort would toss a steel bowl.

Owen lifted his head, then straightened. "Sudden noises." He gave a sheepish shrug.

Reggie kept his gaze on the shiny silver bowl in the corner as if he expected it to fly through the air and smack him in the head.

"You're gonna need to get him out of here," I said. "And you told your mom's caseworker you'd meet her at the police station."

Owen had made the call as soon as the truck hit the highway and cell service resumed. I was impressed he'd remembered. My mind was befuddled enough with the s.e.x, let alone the unconscious wolf in my lap.

"Your mom's in jail?" Joaquin appeared at my side.

"Kind of."

"What did she do?"

"What didn't she?" Owen hooked a lead to Reggie's collar and practically dragged him out the door.

The dog still stared at the steel bowl, or perhaps at the empty corner behind it. I couldn't decide. Which made me think that corner wasn't as empty as it seemed.

I picked up the anesthetic and slipped the needle into Pru's leg. Cleaning out an infected wound was going to hurt. Pru didn't need to be awake for it any more than I wanted her to be.

Joaquin strapped her down without being asked, then removed the matted fur from the area. Cotton pads soaked in alcohol came next. Pru's leg jerked even in her sleep, and the flesh rippled as if cold, despite being far too hot to the touch.

With the matted fur gone and the dried blood and weepy pus cleaned off, the wound seemed less like a graze than ever before.

Tweezers clattered onto the exam table. I turned my head to ask if Joaquin had seen something in the wound that needed extracting. His eyes were better than mine. But he stood on a step stool at the counter, reaching for more gauze on an upper shelf.

Now my skin rippled as if cold.

I should probably do an X-ray to make sure there was something in there before I opened it up again but ...

I set my hand on her flank. I could feel an object in there-foreign, festering.

"Doc Becca?" Joaquin had returned.

I lifted my hand, frowned at the wound. It seemed to have healed more in the few minutes we'd been here. Which was impossible.