stayed. Sheâd seen a look like that before. It turned out sheâd been developing a habit of wounding menâs pride, and that broke her more than anything else had.
Monica closed her eyes for a second. Thinking of Carl. How much sheâd loved him and how long it had been since sheâd felt that way about anyone. Maybe she never would again.
âI had a nightmare. I was attacked some time ago, and sometimes I dream about it,â she said in a low voice.
âOkay.â He eyed her warily. âAnd thatâs my problem?â
Oh, he was going to make this difficult. âIn the dreams, I relive the attack. When I wake up, I canât get out from under it. The only thing that really helps me is to...fuck.â
âWhat kind of attack?â
âI was hiking with my husband,â Monica said flatly. âWeâd gone into some unknown trails, stupid, I guess, but we thought it would be fun. Isnât that how horror stories always start? We thought it would be fun at the time?â
âI donât like horror stories.â
Monica laughed bitterly, then shrugged. âSomething came out of the woods. Slashed at him. Knocked me out next, so I didnât see what happened. It dragged him into a cave, where it killed him. It took me next. I woke up next to his body. When it came back, I fought it and killed it.â
She said it matter-of-factly, not because the story didnât move her emotionally, but because it was the story sheâd told the police and the wildlife officers and everyone else, the same story so many times the words themselves came by rote. It was the only way she could tell that story without breaking down.
Monica rubbed her arms again, this time against the chill of gooseflesh that had risen there. The food in her belly shifted uncomfortably. She couldnât look at him anymore.
âWhat was it?â Jordan asked.
She shook her head. âThey said it was a bear.â
âBullshit,â he said.
She did look at him then. Her chin went up. âI donât know what it was. I never figured it out. But I knew it was something, not a bear. It had scales. It could see in the dark. It had claws...â
She shuddered and went silent.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Jordan said quietly, âIâm sorry.â
âIâd been studying to become a vet. I decided to focus on figuring out exactly what sorts of thing could have done that to my husband. Iâm going to figure out what did this to your animals, too.â
âBut you still dream about it at night.â
She nodded.
Jordan took a step closer. He pulled her into his arms again, this time more gently. Her face pressed against his hot bare skin, and though he mightâve grumbled about needing a shower earlier, all Monica breathed in was warm male. She closed her eyes. His hand stroked over her back.
âIâm sorry,â she said. âI didnât mean to hurt your feelings.â
Jordan, typically, didnât say anything. The steady thump of his heart beneath her cheek skipped a beat or so, though. His arms tightened around her.
After a minute, Monica pushed away. She cleared her throat. Jordan stepped back. They stared at each other.
âI need a shower,â he said finally. âBut after that, if you want to come over so we can talk about what you think this thing out there is...â
She nodded, hiding a smile. Stiffly, he backed away from her. She waited until heâd gone out the front door before she went after him to watch him cross the small piece of lawn between their bungalows. She could not figure him out. Not at all.
CHAPTER 8
T he glass of red wine heâd downed had lit a fire in him that wasnât going to go out. The whiskey wasnât a good idea, not after last night and the wine and the conversation heâd had with Monica earlier, but then again, Jordan didnât always make the best decisions. He