His Wicked Dream (Velvet Lies, Book 2) by Adrienne deWolfe Page A

survive," Michael said darkly. "Collie is his father's son. He won't go to school; he refuses to work; and he'd rather steal than take charity. At this rate, he's going to wind up like his pa did. Dead."
    Eden's stomach turned. Surely Collie wasn't as bad as all that! During her medicine show travels, she'd treated gunfighters and thieves, men far less couth and a great deal more callous than the silver-eyed youth who'd stared with such longing at the licorice he couldn't afford. Collie might be wild, but he wasn't heartless. And being rebellious didn't make him evil. What it did make him, though, was hard to love.
    "I've been a stranger in a lot of places, Michael. One of the things it taught me was to see things local people overlook. Like Collie. He's not just hungry; he's sick."
    Eyes like indigo granite bored into hers. "He told you that?"
    "No, but..." She hesitated, her sympathy for Collie vying with her reluctance to antagonize Michael. Presenting herself as a medical authority, especially if he'd witnessed her rallying crowds for Papa's tonic demonstrations, was a guaranteed way to earn Michael's scorn. "There were splotches of dried blood on Collie's... um, bottom."
    Michael's chest swelled. She couldn't tell if he was indignant or contrite.
    "If what you saw was blood," he said gruffly, "Collie could have gotten it any number of ways. He could have sat where he'd skinned his last meal, for instance. There's no telling."
    "Someone could ask him."
    "Ask him?" Michael sounded incredulous. "You heard the boy's mouth. You'll never get a straight answer out of Rafe—I mean, Collie." His ears reddened.
    Turning abruptly, he stepped over his toolbox to begin gathering his hammers, screwdrivers, and nails.
    Eden watched him speculatively. Wasn't Rafe Michael's half-brother? The one whose letter to Sera had arrived only that morning, addressed to Claudia's store? Good heavens, was the blood between Rafe and Michael so bad that Sera couldn't receive Rafe's letters in her own home?
    "You know, Michael," she said carefully, "my papa once told me people use anger to keep other people from getting too close. Close enough to see the hurt they hide inside."
    He set his jaw.
    She gently prompted, "Maybe Collie's more scared than dangerous."
    "Eden," he said tersely, "I wouldn't presume to debate your father's ideologies with you."
    She winced. So much for mending fences with the man.
    Shoving the last wrench into his toolbox, he stalked to the half-hinged shutter and set to work. Other than the clank of pliers, the rattle of wooden slats, and the scratching of Jamie's toad in its box, nothing could be heard in Claudia's store. Eden sighed, gathering a broom and dustpan to sweep up the cherry goo.
    Stazzie, meanwhile, had apparently composed herself. Slinking out of her sanctuary, she darted a wary look around the store, her whiskers twitching. For some reason, Michael, not the fallen pie, captured her attention. He knelt on one knee, keeping his back turned. Eden might have been grateful for the consideration, except the ensuing silence clapped around them like thunder.
    Stazzie didn't seem to mind, though. She watched him intently, taking a tentative step forward. Then another. Suddenly she burst into a purr as rusty as the window's old crank. Bemused, Eden watched as her imperious, self-absorbed feline padded the rest of the way to the sawbones and butted her head against his inner thigh.
    Michael jumped about six inches.
    "Anastasia!" Eden's face flamed as red as Michael's neck. "Stop that!"
    To her credit, the cat didn't ignore her completely. Instead, she sat down on her haunches against Michael's knee and continued to purr in affectionate little rumbles. Michael had to step gingerly around her.
    "I'm, uh, sorry about my cat," whose neck you'd be well justified in wringing right now, Eden groaned to herself as Stazzie slinked back between his legs. For heaven's sake, Stazzie. Show a little decorum! "I don't know what has gotten