Shayna’s back, and someone’s Changed her.
His phone was probably bugged, but screw it. Whoever was tracking his messages already knew what he was and likely knew what Shayna was, too. Shoving the cell in his back pocket, he grabbed Tank’s leash and slid out of the truck with the dog following directly.
His cell buzzed back, but he ignored it. He’d meet up with his brothers tonight at the station and figure out their next move. For now, he was going to put a pair of sunglasses over his blazing eyes and get Tank through his exam, all while trying not to rip anyone’s head off.
Chapter Two
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dr. Voss asked.
Quinn Copeland nodded her head and swallowed the sob in her throat. “I’m fine. Really.”
“The first time is the hardest.” Dr. Voss’s sad blue eyes bore into Quinn as she sidestepped out of the room.
“I’m just going to take a moment before I get to the next patient,” Quinn said with as much of a smile as she could muster. It came out a lip tremble, so she didn’t wait to see Dr. Voss’s reaction to her obvious weakness. She just turned and left the room without another word.
Geez, she was so not cut out for this. Her face crumpled, and she rushed into an empty room before the other vet tech could see her breakdown. She’d taken the courses and gotten a job here because she had wanted to help pets, not kill them. Okay, the poor dog, Daphne, was too far gone and in such pain, but still. Witnessing the end to her life was heartbreaking.
And her owner had sobbed the entire time, snuggling the little poodle until long after it had drawn its last breath.
Quinn slid down the wall of the empty room, shoulders shaking as the water works really began. Poor little Daphne. And her owner! She would go home tonight without her pet, and it would be awful. Just thinking about something happening to one of her own dogs brought on another wave of grief.
She hiccupped and drew her knees up to her chest, then rested her face on her forearms.
When the door burst open, Quinn looked up and froze as a giant man dragged a whimpering dog inside.
“Stop being such a pussy, Tank,” the man growled out, pulling on the leash as the dog locked his legs.
His nails scrabbled on the tile floors as the man got him past the door and closed it behind him. He turned and Quinn gasped.
From her place on the floor, it looked like his head was almost touching the ceiling. His jaw was covered in short, blond stubble, but not the unkempt kind. The designer kind that belonged on billboard models. Chiseled jaw and lips set in a grim line, he jerked to a stop as he spied her sitting on the floor like a weirdo.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, as if he’d stumbled upon a king cobra instead of a crying woman. “I’m so sorry. The lady at the desk said room three. This is room three, right?” He was backing slowly toward the door, his work boots echoing across the tile with every powerful step.
“No, it’s fine. You’re in the right place.” When she realized she was staring at a horrific scar across his neck, she forced herself to look away. Except when she did, her gaze traveled down the perfect indented line between his pecs exposed by his gray V-neck shirt. The thin cotton fabric clung to his sculpted torso before the shirt loosened and hung over his light-washed, holey-knee jeans.
Intimidated, she stood clumsily and wiped her tear-stained cheeks. The blush in her face was burning up to her ears now, and she cursed her fair skin. “Is he here for a check-up?”
“Yeah, but you can’t tell from the way he’s acting. He always bawls like a baby during his annual visit, like we’re putting him to sleep or something.”
The mention of putting anything to sleep conjured a vision of the owner leaning over her poodle, crying as the little elderly dog took its last breath, and the imaginings buckled her. Overwhelmed with emotion, Quinn spun and left the room. But when she went out to the hall, Dr. Voss was talking to the other vet tech, and Quinn slunk back into the room, completely trapped.
“Are you okay?” The Sasquatch was hovering in the corner like a phantom now, and behind his reflective sunglasses, his face had taken on a combined look of terror and acute suspicion. Tears did that to men.
“This is so unprofessional. I’m sorry.” Quinn grabbed a box of tissues from beside a jar of dog biscuits and yanked out three before blotting her weepy face. “I just started this job, and I took it to help animals, and now…”
“What happened?” the man asked, voice softer now as he let his dog’s leash slip from his hand.
“I can’t talk about it,” she rasped out, throat thickening with emotion.