groupies only watched him from afar, too scared to approach him.
Misty, though, couldnât bring herself to be afraid of Grahamâor at least, not terrified of him. She remembered the first night sheâd met him, in a Shifter bar called Coolers. Sheâd found herself sitting on a barstool next to him, Graham all banged up from a bout at the Shifter fight club. Heâd looked disgruntled, angry, and very lonely. She couldnât ever forget what sheâd seen in his eyes that night, a man searching for something, though he didnât know what.
Not that Graham had ever showed Misty his softer side. But heâd let her see a hint that maybe he
had
a softer sideâdeep, deep, deep down.
Graham turned from her, and Mistyâs fingers slid away from him. âDougal!â Graham bellowed as he banged out of the shack. âStop whining. You need to take this bullet out of me.â
âNo, you need a hospital,â Misty said, following him. âMaybe we can make it to the road, or at least close enough to find a cell signal.â
âIâm not walking anywhere, sweetie. I have a bullet stuck in my side, and it could lodge in a bad place if it doesnât come out now.â
âCanât you shift . . . ?â
âSure. Then Iâll be a wolf with a bullet stuck in my side that could lodge in a bad place. Dougal can take it out. He knows how.â
Misty didnât know much about Grahamâs nephew, Dougal Callaghan, who lived with Graham. Graham had said that Dougalâs mom died giving birth to himâ
bringing him in,
Graham had called it. Dougalâs dad had deserted him a long time ago, back before Shifters had been rounded up and put into Shiftertowns. Graham had never been able to find the dad, whoâd probably gone feral, whatever that meant. Graham had raised Dougal himself, and apparently, Dougal had been a handful.
Dougal came running to them, in his human form now and stark naked. Mistyâs face went hot, and she spun around and faced the shackâs sun-bleached wall.
âSheâs human,â Graham growled at Dougal. âShe expects pants.â
âGoddess,â Dougal said in disgust then ran off again.
Graham said nothing, making no apology. He leaned against the shackâs doorframe and closed his eyes, his face losing a little color. Misty turned and laid her hand on his arm again, wishing she could do more.
But she wasnât an ER nurse, or a doctor, or anything useful like that. She ran a flower shop. She knew everything about flowersâtheir names, types, and popularity; how they were cultivated; traditional meanings of each flower; which ones were appropriate for what occasion; how to arrange them; and which ones sold the best. Great information for running her business, nothing that would save a Shifter whoâd been shot.
Dougal returned, jeans on and belted. The morning had turned hotterâAugust days generally reached the triple digits. Clouds were forming over the mountains as well, signaling a monsoon storm that would be ready to come in during the afternoon. If the three of them were out here then . . . Storms had deadly lightning, high winds, and hail, not to mention the flash floods that tore along the washes and overflowed their banks. The three of them could be cut off until the washes ran dry again.
Dougal ducked under Grahamâs arm and helped him around the tiny shack to its shady side, where Graham stretched himself out on the ground. There wasnât enough room for him to lie inside the shackâs small interior, especially when its floor was covered in rusty bits of metal.
Dougal peeled Grahamâs shirt from him, Graham grunting as the cloth came unglued from his skin. Grahamâs six-pack abs were covered with blood, which continued to seep from the slash in his abdomen. Dougal used Grahamâs shirt to wipe off excess blood then he stretched
Lynsay Sands, Hannah Howell