Mel and Ross exchange a loaded glance. They can no doubt tell from the bruised tension in the air that something weird is going on between Kane and me. The German Shepherd cocks his head and whines nervously.
Ross gives Kane an appraising look. “I came up with a number of nicknames for you over the years. Most of them can’t be said in company. What are you going by now?”
“You can stick to Kane. Amy knows my name,” he says without elaborating.
“What a pity,” Mel says to Kane. “The Blue Beast would havesuited you nicely.”
I choke on a laugh and Ross chuckles, shaking his head at Mel in what looks like fond exasperation.
Kane narrows his eyes, but the tension is lightened and after a moment his lips twitch and he smiles. “It was a good trick.”
“One of my best,” Mel agrees.
“You said it takes a couple of days to fade.”
She waves a negligent hand in the air. “You needed something to mar those good looks.”
“And you volunteered. You realize your turn’s coming.”
Her eyes light up competitively. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Ross turns to me, as if realizing he hasn’t yet answered my question. “You still need a name for me. Why don’t you call me Z or Zorro?”
I nod, deciding not to tell them Mel has already given away Ross’s name.
Kane’s eyebrows lift. “Z? Zorro? Are you serious?”
“Look at me,” Ross retorts, adjusting his mask in obvious irritation. “Do I look serious? If I’m to wear this absurd mask, I might as well have a name to match.”
“Your call,” Kane says.
“Don’t remind me.”
Catching my puzzled look, Kane explains, “Z here didn’t want you locked in your room so these masks are an inconvenience to us but necessary so you can have the freedom to walk around the sanctuary.” He clearly sees something in my face because his next words dull that brief spurt of hope. “One of us will be with you at all times. Any attempt to run and you’re confined to your room.”
Silence echoes. Mel clears her throat. “Food’s getting cold.”
“Wouldn’t want that.” Ross skims a kiss across Mel’s lips and heads to the sink to wash up. “I count down the days until Saturday.”
Watching them, I make up my mind to try to befriend these two. Although their loyalty plainly lies with Kane, they appear sympathetic and might be able to protect me from any further plans Kane and Nolene have in mind.
We sit at the kitchen island to eat, Ross and Mel settling on bar stools opposite Kane and me. When the German Shepherd slinks closer, Kane frowns and gives him a hand signal. The dog flops to the floor, putting his head on his paws, looking shamefaced he even thought to beg.
We’re all hungry, and the plates of food are polished off quickly. I soon discover the sausages are veggie ones, but I’m so ravenous I eat them anyway, admitting only to myself the taste is tolerable.
Talk at the table centers on the animals at the sanctuary. Everyone is careful not to mention its name. They discuss chores to be done and what’s happening in the week ahead. To my amazement, I find out they all woke up at four thirty this morning to clean out the stalls and feed the animals.
A plaintive bleating interrupts the conversation. Mel smiles. “Hang on, little one, I’m coming.” She disappears into what looks like a laundry room off the kitchen and returns with a gangly, grubby-looking lamb trailing her.
“Did the smell of all that food make you hungry?” Mel croons, snagging a bottle of milk off the counter. Perching on her stool, she leans forward and offers the lamb the bottle. The lamb braces its legs and sucks noisily.
Noticing my interest, Mel says, “We named him Rambo. He’s a survivor so it seemed to suit him. A cliché, I know.” She tilts her head. “Would you like to feed him?”
“No, thanks,” I say quickly.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
