“Beau Jo’s?” If her face didn’t hurt so bad, she might be able to enjoy the irony.
He nodded. “Tell Lexxie to stick with her own kind. If it happens again, I’ll let the hunters know she’s not getting enough action.”
* * * * *
A needle slowly pushed through Devon’s skin and she gritted her teeth. The momentary sting was inconsequential, but this had happened way too many times in the past month. Blood tests and biopsies, tissue samples and scans. Each time she’d fought her captors with all her strength and each time she’d failed to prevent them from taking whatever they wanted. They’d violated her freedom so many times, and in so many ways, it had all become a horrific blur.
Warm fingers curved around the back of her neck and gently massaged. She looked up and tried to smile at Ian. The expression felt more like a grimace.
“You okay?” His gold-flecked gaze was warm and caressing, but worry thinned his lips.
“I just want this over,” she whispered.
“Understood.”
Paul Garran pushed a cotton ball against her skin as he smoothly withdrew the needle. “Press down on this for me,” he instructed, and she complied. He disconnected the last vial from the butterfly needle, dropped the needle into a sharps container then reached for the piece of tape he’d stuck to the edge of the tray earlier. After taping the cotton ball in place, he bent her elbow to maintain pressure on the tiny wound. “Do you have any questions for me?” His gloves made a sharp snap as he pulled them off and tossed them in the trash can.
With kind, dark eyes and slightly shaggy gray hair, Paul made the perfect country doctor. The clinic was quaint and soothing, obviously designed to put the patient at ease. A much larger research facility was in an adjacent building. The lights had been on, indicating activity, but Ian brought her directly to the clinic. There were two houses on the property as well. The Garran family had dedicated their lives to the Therian nation, so the networks made sure they had cutting-edge technology and a generous operating budget so they could continue their work.
“I have plenty of questions. You just won’t have answers until you’ve had time to analyze all that.” She motioned toward the capped swabs and vials of blood on the tray beside him.
“It’s our top priority.” He paused for a smile. “We’ve about run out of options with Dhane. We’re hoping the new data will shed some light on the mystery. You’re a very brave young woman. Tell your mother I said hi.” He gathered the samples and departed, leaving the door open behind him.
“That was fun.” She picked up her purse and stood as she swung it onto her shoulder. “If I never see a doctor’s office again, it will be too soon.”
Ian allowed her to brood as they drove back to the sanctuary, but he stopped her before they went inside. “If you want the bed to yourself tonight, I understand. But until we know who took Carly and why, I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Suit yourself.” Devon shrugged and headed for the side door of the visitor center. Even as wonderful as sex was with Ian, she was in no mood for intimacies. All she wanted was to crawl between the sheets of her own bed and go to sleep.
She lived above the classrooms, which were on the second floor of the visitor center. More or less a studio apartment, her bedroom was separated from the living area by an open archway. He preceded her up the stairs and checked each room, the windows and closets before he let her enter.
“Paranoid much?” She dropped her purse onto a chair and kicked off her shoes. “We might not know who crashed through that window, but we know who sanctioned the smash and grab. We had one of the backers’ minions and they wanted her back. There is really no mystery here.”
“I’m not convinced it had anything to do with the backers.” His features were tight, yet his expression concealed the direction of his thoughts.
“So tell me about this silver-haired ghost.” She’d heard Ian’s description of the intruder, but Kyle had interrupted before she could ask Payne why he thought the intruder was a ghost. “What would she want with Carly?”
His agitation grew, setting him in motion. He paced her small apartment, looking very much like one of the animals caged downstairs. “The woman I saw is dead, so it couldn’t have actually been her. I suspect it was a relation. Perhaps a daughter or granddaughter.”
It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about the specter, which indicated that the memories were unpleasant. She didn’t have the energy to coax the details out of him, so she just asked, “And what would the daughter or granddaughter want with Carly?”