Free In the Crossfire (Bloodhaven) by Lynn Graeme

easy to tease Naley.
    “Liam likes his space,” she told the girl. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”
    Indignant dark ringlets bobbed in the air as Naley shook her head. “Liam wouldn’t hurt me!”
    “I meant he might like some alone time once in a while, so don’t take it personally if he growls. Or snaps.”
    Naley grinned. “Or barks.”
    Isobel grinned back. “Or scratches the back of his head with his foot.”
    Naley giggled. The sound made Isobel’s heart turn over.
    “Speaking of which, I entered him into the security system, but you know he’s only allowed to enter if one of us is in here as well.”
    “Yeah, I know. It’s okay if I make him food, though, right? He’s got nothing to eat, Aunt Iz.” Her tone reflected all the scandalized horror a teenage girl could possibly dredge up.
    “Hmm. . . . I don’t suppose it’ll do much harm. Men do turn a notch more agreeable once they’re fed.” Isobel stepped away. “That reminds me. I’m going to go look in on Liam. Be ready for school when I get back, and I’ll drop you off on my way to work.”

Chapter Four
     
     
    The sun lingered cautiously just above the horizon, still making its reluctant debut into the day. The early morning air was crisp—sharp enough to cut—but Liam had been at work for hours now, and had long shed his sweat-dampened T-shirt.
    Working with his hands always helped. During the day, when he sawed and sanded and carved at his workbench, or when he patrolled the grounds and cut down relentlessly overreaching brambles, he could focus on what was directly in front of him. He didn’t have to worry about the voices or demons in his head.
    He could just breathe.
    He wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm, then ran a light hand over the beveled edge of the long-overdue cabinet door. He’d finished its twin half an hour ago. The completed wardrobe itself should be ready for Evelyn Hooper within a couple of days.
    The fierce, formidable woman had run Hooper’s Fine Furnishings for the last fifty years. It catered mainly to Bloodhaven’s upper class, and consequently Evelyn was very particular about the items she chose to curate in her shop.
    Hers had been the third store Liam had visited when he’d first shopped his work around in Bloodhaven. Managers from the first two had admired the samples he’d shown them, but tsk ed at the price he quoted. Evelyn had taken one look at his samples and snapped them up immediately. She’d also proceeded to commission a six-person dining table set. Liam had used Hooper’s to sell his work ever since.
    He propped both cabinet doors up against his truck, which was parked behind his work area. It was an ancient truck, barely two points away from being illegal on the road. It wasn’t even equipped with print sensors that most vehicles now possessed. It’d come by dirt-cheap and cash-only, however, and that had worked for Liam. He’d long traveled on foot, but now that he was living here and had returned to his previous woodworking profession, he needed something to make deliveries and haul back supplies.
    He was reaching for his coffee when the scent wrapped itself around him. Winter smoke, reminiscent of the mountains of his youth.
    Cursing silently, he looked around for his T-shirt. He’d tossed it somewhere on the ground a couple of hours ago. It was nowhere to be found.
    Dammit.
    Arms shaking, fists clenching, he backed into the shade as Isobel came into view.
    She knew he was there. He couldn’t run off, tail between his legs like the coward he was.
    She strode through the grass toward him. With her hair slicked back into its thick braid, it was obvious she was stopping by on her way to work. This morning, instead of her preferred leather—tough and sultry, just like her—she wore regulation trousers, part of her Council uniform that allowed the wearer to shift quickly without having to disrobe first. Shifting while fully clothed was a painful, hindering process,