Tiger Bound Read Online Free PDF Page A

feet as if to claim him.
    Katie approached him from the side, stopping some distance away and dropping his massive duffel there in a studied attempt to remain casual in spite of the moments in the car. “You do love this place, don’t you?”
    Maks glanced at her. Only a smoldering undertone remained of what had passed between them in the car. “Whatever I am,” he said, “these woods made me.”
    And the Core. The Core, too, had made him, whether they’d meant to or not.
    Katie laughed, short and rueful. “Whatever I am,” she said, “the Sentinels made me. Whether they want what they got, I couldn’t say.” She brushed non-existent dirt from the front of her lightweight hoodie and, before he could find a response to her comment, asked in a completely different tone, “Are you hungry? I’ve got some steaks.”
    It took a moment, but he suddenly got it. She was, in her own quiet way, apologizing for his reception. He gave her a slow smile. “Thank you.”
    He wouldn’t mention how recently he’d learned to eat his meat cooked.
    He stopped just short of her porch. The cat stalked on ahead with its tail straight in the air and a dignified air that proclaimed the utter coincidence of their mutual destination. “Why did you call brevis, Katie?”
    She gestured vaguely beside her head, frustration evident. “No real specifics yet. No details. Just this feeling that things aren’t right.” She met his gaze head-on for the first time since the bus shuttle station. “But, Maks...they really aren’t right.”
    “Not Akins?”
    She waved a dismissive hand, the gesture graceful. “That’s personal. I recently told a second client that her dog had shoulder and neck injuries from rough handling. I didn’t know it was him either time. In fact, the first time, I thought it was the owner.” Her expression grew darker. “Worse, I’m certain he’s using strays to bait his dogs—just like that cat. Reporting him without evidence would just make me look petty—but I know. ” She gave him a defensive glance.
    “Did you help them, then?”
    “Did I—” She stopped, uncertain—as if orienting herself to the conversation they were having and not the one she’d thought they’d be having. “Over time. I probably could have done more, been faster, but then...” She gave her hands a rueful look. They were strong hands, with long fingers and blunt, strong nails. “Then people would notice.”
    “They come here? Your clients?”
    “I have an appointment this afternoon—a surgical recovery, and he’s doing great.” Her face had shed its inhibitions, its tight concerns—her eyes now full of spark, her mouth expressive. “I’m really excited about that one—I think I can make a real difference to his recovery time. At least, if he stops eating things that no dog should eat, which is why he had surgery in the first place. And,” she made a face, “the second.”
    He did it without even thinking—reached out to touch her, a brief brush of his hand over her arm, drawn by that spark in her eye.
    She stopped short, startled, and before he could apologize, she shook her head. “You,” she said. “One moment you’re standing there in classic John McClane pose, the next you’re...you’re...” She shook her head, fingertips lingering on her lip.
    And Maks could only say, “John McClane?”
    She sent a skeptical look his way. “Die Hard,” she said. “Lone man stands against overwhelming odds. Looks heroic a lot.”
    He could only shrug.
    She shook her head. “You had a long trip,” she said. “Let’s eat, and I’ll try to explain my whole vision thing.” Her mouth compressed, no less the beautiful for its determination. “However little brevis thinks of it, I know there’s something brewing.” She took the porch steps with the quiet squeak of tired wood under a soft tread, and reached for the screen door handle.
    The cat at her feet gave a sudden little spit, flattened its ears and ran off.