Beth frowned. “So . . . what? You plan to sit in the hall outside my door until Donny gets up to replace you?”
“Nay,” he said, and Beth was just relaxing, thinking he meant only to escort her to her door, when he added, “I plan to stay in yer room.”
“Oh, hell no!” she said at once. Dear Lord, she had sexual fantasies and wet dreams about this man all the time. Every night. There was no way she was having him actually in her room with her while she moaned and panted his name. Not that Beth knew if she did that, but if she did, she sure as spit didn’t want him there to witness it.
“Beth, ye’ve narrowly escaped death twice now, and were badly injured the last time. I’m trying to keep ye safe,” he said reasonably.
“Well, I have news for you, my friend, you’re not—” She paused abruptly and then asked with sudden frustration, “What do you care?”
Scotty blinked in surprise. “What?”
Beth scowled at him as various emotions rolled through her. Mostly confusion, with a side order of bewilderment and a touch of hurt. The handful of times she’d encountered him before this, Scotty had treated her with cold disdain. Now, this trip, he was suddenly deigning to smile at her, and talking to her like she was a real human being rather than the scum of the earth he’d seemed to see her as for the better part of one hundred twenty-five years. And he was worried enough about her that he was willing to give up a night’s sleep to guard her?
Beth had no idea what had brought on this sudden about-face in him, but she wasn’t sure she liked it. The truth was, she was finding it somewhat alarming. It was one thing to lust after a man when you knew he didn’t like you. It had ensured she couldn’t like him either, so that her passion for him had remained firmly housed in the “he’s a hot hunk you can fantasize about, but don’t think it will go further” category.
However, now he was here, treating her like a human being and acting all nice and seemingly concerned about her well-being and—frankly—it was scaring her silly. She could like this guy who was nice to her, and that wasn’t a good thing, especially when he had a life mate somewhere he was just waiting to claim.
“What do you care?” Beth repeated now. “You barely know me.”
“That’s not true,” he said with surprise. “I’ve known ye fer nearly a hundred and twenty-five years.”
Beth snorted at the claim. “You’ve popped up in the same area as me a handful of times over one hundred and twenty-five years and looked down your nose and been a thorn in my butt every single time before this. So, what’s changed?”
“You have,” Scotty responded at once, and then looked as if he’d quite happily snatch the words back.
Tilting her head, Beth eyed him solemnly. “Explain.”
Scotty stared at her for a moment, several expressions flashing across his face, but then his mouth tightened and he shook his head. “Never mind. That’s a conversation for another day. One when ye’re no’ swaying on yer feet from exhaustion. Go on to yer bed and get some rest. Ye’ve had a tough day.”
Beth remained where she was, her mind turning everything over. In truth, she knew what he said was true. She had changed a great deal over the last ten years. Before that she’d been a “hurting unit”—angry, bitter, resentful . . . She’d felt like life had kicked her in the teeth, repeatedly . . . and it had. But she’d continued to do that kicking herself afterward. And then, ten years ago, they’d been clearing out a rogue nest and come upon a terribly abused dog. Half starved, burned, beaten, and tortured in ways she couldn’t even guess by the rogues in the house, the poor beast had been at death’s door. It had also been terrified, growling and snarling viciously, not letting any of them near him.
Deciding it was beyond helping, one of the other hunters had intended to shoot him, but Beth had intervened. To this day she couldn’t say why exactly, but she’d looked into his eyes and something had called out to her. Perhaps she’d recognized herself looking back—the young terrified her who had been peering out at the world through her own eyes since she was a child. Whatever the case, she’d offered him part of her lunch, talking to him softly the whole time. It had taken a lot of patience and coaxing, but eventually she’d got the dog to eat. Beth hadn’t tried to touch him or get too close—he’d been too skittish for that, and she’d understood. There had been times in her life when she hadn’t trusted anyone to get too close or to touch her either. So she’d left him to eat and had gone back to work, helping with cleanup now that the rogues in the nest had been apprehended.
At first the dog had stayed where he was and followed her with his eyes. But when she’d walked around the side of the building, he’d followed, creeping just far enough around the corner that he could see her again. She’d noticed, but ignored it, and just gone about her business. But when he followed her again the next time she moved out of sight, she’d started to talk to him as she worked.
In truth, Beth couldn’t recall what she’d said to him, really, except that she’d told him she was going to call him Ruff because he barked and growled anytime anyone got too near, and because he was in such rough shape. By the time cleanup was done and she and Dree had headed to their vehicle, Ruff had reduced the distance he kept between them to two or three feet. He followed them to the SUV and when she opened the back door, he’d hesitated only a moment before hopping inside.
Beth had taken him home, and fed him again, but allowed him the distance he wanted. She’d then gone to bed and had been just dozing off when she’d felt him hop up on the foot of the bed. She’d almost told him to get down. The poor beast was crusted with filth and blood. But in the end she’d let him be. When she woke up it was to find him cuddled up against her in bed. He’d let her pet him, and bathe him, and after eating again had gone docilely with her to the vet.
Within a very short time, Ruff had been a different dog altogether. A beautiful American boxer, he’d grown strong and healthy and had become an affectionate, cheerful, and loyal companion. He’d grown in confidence and lost any hint of skittishness. It was as if the abuse had never happened. He’d let it go and moved on, enjoying his life with her. Beth had been amazed. The vet hadn’t. He’d said animals were the smarter creatures, living in the now and not dragging past baggage along with them through life. Ruff had it good now and was enjoying it.
Beth had learned from Ruff. She was nearly a hundred and sixty-five years old by that point, and had dragged the misery of her mortal life around with her for the last hundred and fifteen years since being turned. But she’d determined to be like Ruff, set that past down and travel on without it. It had taken her a little more time and effort than Ruff. Beth had slipped a couple times, and again picked up that baggage she was so used to carrying, but eventually she’d managed to set it down and leave it down so that it became just a part of her past and remained there where it belonged. Doing so had changed Beth’s life tremendously. Her anger and bitterness had evaporated, she’d started to enjoy life more, and she’d become the person she suspected she was always meant to be.
So yes, Beth had changed. Apparently it had not gone unnoticed by Scotty, and that in turn had changed his behavior toward her. Interesting.
Breathing out slowly, Beth finally nodded and simply said, “Fine. I’ll go to bed. Alone and without a guard,” she added firmly, and when he opened his mouth on what she suspected was going to be a protest, she reminded him, “I’m the one in charge of this mission. You and Donny are my backup, so I know you’ll listen to me when I say you’re not spending the night in my room guarding me like some defenseless child. Understood?”
Scotty’s mouth snapped closed, but he nodded stiffly.
“Good.” Turning, she walked out of the kitchen with a quiet, “Good sleep.”
Eight
Beth pushed through the Emergency Exit door and found herself in the alley again. The tap tap tap of high heels drew her gaze to the weeping woman just as she suddenly stopped and dropped to a crouch before the garbage bins. Beth peered at her and then shifted her gaze to the figure standing, hidden in the shadows cast by the bins. Squinting her eyes, she tried to pierce the darkness and get a better look at the person waiting to attack her, but all she could make out was the shape of someone tall in a suit.