Ryne noted the whiteness of Melody’s knuckles as she held onto the edge of the bench on which she sat. He surmised she was still feeling ill, still fighting the effects of the approaching full moon and the genetic changes taking place inside her. He wished he was beside her, offering comfort, explaining the strange feelings and thoughts that were no doubt going through her at this moment. He watched as she shook her head before speaking.
“You know, this doesn’t make any sense to me. Ryne Taylor is just a photographer. No one goes to these lengths to get a report on a guy who takes pictures.”
“As I’ve told you before, it isn’t your place to be asking questions.” The man lifted his chin and stared down his nose at her, as if daring her to make another query.
“Sorry. Asking questions is part of my job. There’s something strange about this. All along I thought it was just eccentricity, but now, you’ve basically kidnapped me—”
“Kidnapped? That could be considered slanderous, Ms. Greene. You have no proof that you’ve been kidnapped. For the past several hours, you’ve been delirious with fever. This is merely a safe place to stay until your condition can be properly assessed. Who knows? You might be contagious with some strange disease you picked up in the wilds of Stump River. You don’t want to risk infecting an unsuspecting public now, do you?”
Melody looked around. “A safe place? In a garden shed? Come on, Mr. Aldrich. Do you really expect me to believe that?”
From his position outside, Ryne nodded, noting the name Melody had used. So this was the mysterious Aldrich that she had called every day. Well, she definitely didn’t appear to be in league with him at this point.
Back inside the building, Aldrich shrugged. “It was convenient.”
Ryne weighed his options. He could easily slip into the shed in his wolf form and attack the man, who he now knew was Aldrich. The problem was, he still wasn’t sure what he was dealing with. From what she’d said, Melody didn’t know what she’d stumbled into, unless she was lying; at this distance, he couldn’t tell for sure. Aldrich appeared to know the real story; he just needed the report to confirm his facts. And then there was the mysterious and wealthy Mr. Greyson. Ryne knew in his gut, that the supposed art collector had it all figured out. The question was, how to get to him?
A sound from inside drew his attention. Melody was groaning and clutching her stomach. His wolf leapt inside him, and before he realized what he was doing, he was rounding the corner and pushing open the door of the shed. The sound of his arrival drew the attention of the other two.
“Ryne!” Melody looked up, pain etched on her face.
“Mr. Taylor? How kind of you to stop by.” Damn, but Aldrich was fast. Ryne chastised himself as he saw the gun now pointed at his chest. In the brief second that he’d used to look at Melody, the other man had drawn the weapon. Shit! His wolf’s attachment to Melody was going to be his downfall, he just knew it.
Adopting his most annoyingly arrogant manner, Ryne leaned against the door frame and sneered. “Yeah. This looked like such a nice little place; I just had to see inside.” He kept a bland expression on his face as he tried to ignore the gun. All too well, he remembered the burning pain of the last bullet wound he’d sustained. At this close a range, the shot could be lethal and if he was even just seriously injured, he’d still be unable to help Melody. Best to not irritate Aldrich too much.
“That was an ineffectual attempt at humour, Mr. Taylor.”
“Yeah? Well, what did you expect? I’m a photographer, not a comedian.” He shrugged and looked casually around the room, slowly shifting closer to Melody under the guise of checking out the atmosphere of the shed. “You know this place could use some fixing up. A few of my pictures on the wall could go a long way towards improving the overall impression of this room.”
“Ah, yes. A photographer. Hmm...I wonder how an ordinary ‘photographer’ managed to follow me here; I was very careful.” Aldrich narrowed his eyes, seeming to consider this new turn of events.
Ryne watched nervously as the man ran his finger back and forth over the trigger of the gun, giving an imperceptible sigh of relief when the movement eventually stopped and the lawyer shrugged.
“At this point, how you found this place is irrelevant. Though I will figure it out eventually—can’t have any loose ends now, can we?” What might have been a smile flickered over the man’s face. “Your wolf picture has been a source of fascination for my client, Mr. Greyson. Would you care to speculate why?”