Wolf Shield Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Still, even Jace had it in him to know it was wrong for her to see the photo. He shot Sledge a filthy look which would’ve normally been accompanied by some filthy language. Sledge knew better than to do something like that. They all did.

  But Sledge wasn’t quite himself at the moment either, still a little shaken after what took place at the holding center. He hadn’t bothered to notice that the girl was standing right there next to Logan when he handed the photo over.

  “Oh.” That was all that came out of her mouth as her face went slack. Her eyes started sliding shut as her legs went out from under her.

  “Damn it.” Jace reached out. Logan was holding the photo and not looking at her, and Collins was still sitting on the sofa. He was the only one who took note of the fact that she not only saw the contents of the threat made against her life but also was starting to lose consciousness.

  Her body fell into his arms—a light body, tight and fit and healthy. Warm. Strong. He realized the weight was welcome. She was easy to carry.

  His wolf was a fan of it, too, up on his hind legs and sniffing the air. Interested. She was female and young and more than likely fertile. In other words, fair game as far as a wolf was concerned.

  “Kara!” The senator’s voice broke pitifully as he reached out for her. Jace ignored him, placing the girl on the sofa before wedging a pillow behind her head. He took the bottled water which had been left for her on the coffee table and uncapped it before lifting her head in one hand and raising the water to her mouth with the other.

  She swallowed it, coming back to herself once the cold liquid reached her lips. Jace told himself to stop looking at those lips, to stop imagining how they’d feel under his. His wolf was working overtime, heightening his senses so she’d look and feel and smell all the more appealing. So he’d want her even more. So she’d be irresistible.

  No, he had to resist her. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t even like her as a person. She was a brat. Spoiled, lazy, thinking the entire world revolved around her.

  A brat could be hot too. She could smell like vanilla and lavender. The faster her pulse raced, the more often little bursts of the scent rose to meet his nose and sink into his senses.

  Her eyes opened, their emerald shade burning into his memory in an instant, every golden fleck imprinted itself on his mind, on his soul.

  This was incredibly inconvenient.

  “You’ll be okay.” He stood, hands curled into fists, backing away. In his present state, he needed to put space between her and himself. Like an entire state. Maybe a whole damn continent.

  Collins placed himself between Jace and Kara. “You should go to your room, sweetheart. Lie down. Get some rest. If you need anything, whatever it is, let me know.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  But her chin quivered.

  That quiver spoke volumes. While his wolf could smell the fear on her, almost as intoxicating a scent as the vanilla and lavender which rose from her skin and wove a cloud around her, she hadn’t yet allowed that fear to seep out. She’d fought against it, maintained her shell of strength.

  That picture had broken her. It would break anybody, he imagined, especially considering the note written on it—a note he intended to ask a certain senator about as soon as they were alone.

  “Sledge, help her to her room,” Logan murmured. “Miss Collins, you’re perfectly safe here. We’re on this.”

  “Thank you. And you can call me Kara.” She was shaking as she got to her feet. Sledge offered her his arm like a pantomime of an old-timey knight helping his lady fair over a puddle.

  Jace’s wolf bared his fangs at this. Jace nearly bared his fangs himself.

  What was this? It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and it left him feeling like he was floating at sea with nothing around him to grab onto. He had no way of understanding this, no experience to base it off of.

  Maybe if he was born this way, with a wolf commanding half—if not more—of his consciousness, he’d know what to do. Maybe he would’ve been given the tools way back when to understand the changes in his body and mind, tools he could use now to control himself.

  Instead, he was like a kid with his first erection and no idea what to do with it.

  At least he knew how to control that, and he did before Senator Collins or—God forbid—Logan suspected anything was wrong. The last thing any of them needed was for him to be accused of being a sicko who got off on the distress of young women.

  Logan exchanged a nod with Jace, a nod which spoke volumes though he didn’t say a word. Behave yourself. Whether he meant not to rub the girl the wrong way—there went his wolf again, ears pricked up at the thought of rubbing—or to control his impulses, there was no telling. Could Logan sense his wolf’s interest in this golden-haired ball of fire?

  There was work to be done.

  “Senator, let’s have a seat,” Jace offered, gesturing toward the sofa. William stared up the stairs after his daughter, his only living child.

  “I don’t know what I’d do,” the man admitted. “Truly. She’s my world. Mine and Laura’s.”

  “I understand fully,” Jace murmured.

  “Do you?” Green eyes found him, narrowing. “Do you have children, Mr…”

  “Lewis. Jace Lewis.”

  “Mr. Lewis? Do you?” William sat, inclining his head toward a club chair placed perpendicular to the sofa.

  Jace shook his head as he sat. “No. I don’t.”

  “Then you don’t truly understand. I realize that might sound condescending, but it’s true. It’s especially, painfully true when a person or couple has experienced the amount of loss we have.” He stared at the floor, hands in fists on his knees.

  Jace nodded slowly. “I have no children of my own like I said. I know it isn’t the same, but I’ve supported my family since I turned sixteen. I have three younger siblings—they’re ten, twelve, and fourteen years younger than me. The youngest is twelve now, the oldest just past the same age I was when our father killed himself in a drunken rage. Took his rifle out in the middle of the night go hunting. Wanted to kill something, he said, and I figured it was better he kill something in the woods than somebody in the house. He knew I wouldn’t let it happen—I’d fought him off Mom more times than I could count, and I took beatings you wouldn’t believe just to keep her and the kids safe. The damn rifle blew up in his face. We never did find out just exactly what happened.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Yes, this story always did make people uncomfortable, which was why Jace rarely told it.

  He leaned forward. “I’m telling you this so you understand something, sir. If anything ever happened to one of those kids, I’d have to kill the person who did it. End of story. I’ve always felt like more of a father to them than a brother. I taught the oldest, Scotty, how to shave. I taught Meggie how to ride a bike, how to tie her shoes. I haven’t been there as much for Frank—I joined the Navy the minute I turned eighteen since there weren’t exactly a lot of opportunities in my town. I hope Scotty did for him what I did for Scotty, if you get my drift.”

  “I do.” William extended a hand. “You’re a good man.”

  “I did what needed doing, but I appreciate that.” He took William’s hand in a firm grip. “Now we understand each other a little better. I can place myself in your shoes to a small extent. Meggie’s a young woman now, and I worry for her. The more I see in this line of work…”

  “It must keep you up at night,” William mused.

  “It does at times.” Jace sat back, the hard part over. He’d established rapport, respect, understanding. “Now. Let’s talk about Kara, about your family, about you. I need to understand as much as possible about you if my team’s going to find who would do this, so I guess you can imagine what I’m about to ask.

  “Whether I have enemies?” When Jace nodded, William chuckled. “We might get farther if I list the people who don’t consider me an enemy, a threat to the status quo.”


  “Do you honestly believe any of your political rivals would go so far as to send a threat like this? Let me take that one step further: would they follow through with it? A threat is one thing, a means to throw you off your game. Would they go so far?”

  He frowned, his brows drawing low over his eyes. “I don’t know, but I doubt it.”

  “So? Who else? The more honest you can be, the better. Tell me everything.”

  William blew out a long, heavy sigh through pursed lips. “I’ve been in politics a long, long time. I’ve ruffled a lot of feathers both inside the Senate and outside.”

  “Corporations unhappy about the way you vote,” Jace suggested. “Unhappy about your speeches. The fact that you call them out—not to mention calling out the politicians who are in their pockets.”

  “The list is endless.”

  “I would like to see it. I know my team would, as well.” Jace shrugged. “Take all the time you need, but make it fast.”

  William snickered. “I’ll have a list compiled by morning.”

  “Good.” Now it was time to delve into the really uncomfortable stuff. “I’d like to talk about the picture. The message on it, specifically.”

  Another sigh, even longer and louder than the other. William tipped his head back against the cushions, his eyes sliding shut.

  “What could it have meant?” Jace pressed. “One down? Do you think that might refer to Krista?”

  “You’ve done your homework.”

  “That’s our job.”

  Another sigh. “I admit I don’t know what that meant. Really. One down? It was an accident.”

  “You’re sure of that.”

  “Mr. Lewis—”

  “Jace.”

  “Jace, then.” He spat it out, telling Jace he was getting closer to the truth. The real truth. “Jace, my daughter died in a car accident. An accident, plain and simple, caused by a deer darting out into the road while I just happened to be coming toward it. I veered away, off the road, and flipped the car. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t play the entire scene over. And over. And then, just in case the salt hasn’t been thoroughly rubbed into the wound, I see it when I close my eyes at night. Sometimes, I even dream about it. I hear Krista talking in the back, strapped into her car seat. She’s telling me about nursery school. She used to talk all the time, on and on. The first thing I remember after waking up was asking her to speak to me. She didn’t.”

  Jace let this sit for a minute, allowing silence to fall between them. The guards were still busy doing their thing throughout the house, but they were mere background noise.

  “I’m sorry to bring this up for you, really I am,” Jace finally murmured. “You were right. I can’t imagine. But whoever sent that photo knows about the accident. They want to get to you using that accident. Maybe they assume the guilt you feel as a result and this is their way of making it all feel fresh. In the end, it’s a way of leaving you vulnerable.”

  “You don’t think they’re after Kara?” William looked at him with hope flickering in his gaze, written on his face.

  “I didn’t quite say that. Listen, I want it to be true,” Jace explained. Yes, he wanted it badly. So did his wolf. “My point is they’re chipping away at you through her, through your family, which is why your utmost cooperation and frankness is key. Complete transparency for her sake. All right?”

  “I’ll do my best. Really, I will.”

  Jace’s phone buzzed. “We’ll assign round-the-clock protection for Kara, not to worry,” he added as he fished the phone from his back pocket. “And I was in the middle of mapping out any blind spots in your security camera set-up when Kara arrived at the house. We’ll see to installing new equipment to cover anything necessary.”

  “Whatever it takes,” William replied.

  It was Logan calling, and there was fresh tension in his voice. “You’d better get back here. We have a problem.”

  Chapter Five

  Like there was even a chance of her getting any sleep.

  Not when the image of her with a red line across her throat taunted Kara every time she closed her eyes. Or opened her eyes. Or blinked. Or breathed.

  What was it supposed to mean?

  Did it have something to do with Krista?

  She rolled out of bed with a muttered curse and flipped on the bedside lamp. The light, limited though it was, helped her feel a little less shaky the way a nightmare was never so scary in the morning after the sun rose.

  Her closet stood open, clothes spilling out of it the way she’d left them before going out with the girls. To think she was so concerned with what she was going to wear to a movie and a sushi restaurant. Like that mattered.

  Like anything mattered, anything she spent time on.

  Damn that Jace for getting in her head.

  Who did he think he was? Like she hadn’t already been through enough. Like finding out somebody wanted her head wasn’t bad enough. He had to throw in a dig, like he was so special or superior, like she was nothing but a spoiled kid. Pig.

  She wrapped her arms around herself when a sudden chill hit her. It wasn’t cold in the room or in the house, but she couldn’t get rid of the goosebumps on her arms.

  One down, one to go.

  What did that mean? What was she supposed to think about that? Did they want to break her, whoever they were? Did they expect to turn her into some weeping, shaking, scared thing who was afraid to leave the house, peering out the window and searching for something in the shadows?

  They didn’t know her. Not even a little bit.

  Still, she looked out the bedroom window into the night. A muggy night, sticky. She could almost feel it even if the house was climate controlled. She could feel the sticky air on her skin, the way it would make her hair stick to the back of her neck if she went outside.

  Was somebody out there, watching? Waiting? Laughing to themselves over what they’d done to her just by leaving a photo?

  No. They wouldn’t be out there. That would be stupid. They were far away, still laughing at her, at her father.

  She sighed, turning away from the window in favor of leaving the room. There was no point being in there by herself.

  The hall was dark. The sound of men muttering to each other downstairs was like the droning of bees, but she was glad they were there, glad to hear that droning. She wasn’t really alone.

  At the far end of the hall and situated at the front of the house was her parents’ suite. How many summer afternoons had she passed there, reading in Mom’s sitting room? Playing dress-up? Dancing?

  There was a light coming out from under the door. She padded barefoot over the wood floor, careful not to make a noise that might be picked up downstairs. Over the summers spent in this house, she’d learned every creaky board on the stairs, on the hallway floor.

  All the better to sneak in without her parents knowing it. Only Sal knew about her evenings out when she was supposed to be asleep, and he never told.

  How did she know? Her door would’ve been padlocked with iron bars installed over the windows if they’d ever gotten wise to her.

  She tapped softly at the closed door. “Mommy?” How long had it been since she’d called her that? But it seemed like the only word to use. She was a little girl again, lost and confused and scared.

  She hated being scared and hated whoever had done this to her.

  The door was unlocked. She opened it slowly, looking around at the inside of the sitting room that opened onto the bedroom. Shelves covered the walls, stuffed with books to the point where a few of the shelves bowed under the weight.

  It was Mom’s romance collection, something she wasn’t allowed to store in the bookshelves downstairs. It didn’t look right. What if important people came over and found out that—gasp and horror—Laura Collins read romance novels?

  It left a bad taste in Kara’s mouth, and it always had. Even when she was too young to really understand, she’d sensed something fake about their en
tire lives, the image they had to project to the world. Sanitized. Perfect.

  Disgusting.

  She crept further into the room until she was in the bedroom. The four-poster bed was occupied by her snoring mother, out cold.

  Instead of leaving her alone, Kara crawled into bed behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Mommy,” she whispered, breathing in the scent of her mother’s familiar shampoo. She’d always associate it with her, no matter how old she got. She’d been using the same brand all through Kara’s life.

  It was the scent of home—love, comfort, warmth, security. Her pulse slowed, evened out.

  Her mother stirred. “Krista… Kara…” It was mumbled, thick with sleep and sedation.

  “I’m here,” Kara murmured, snuggling behind her. “I’m right here. I’m safe.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” That was clearer than before, more aware. The feeling of her mother’s hand closing over hers was another layer of comfort. Slowly, Kara’s muscles loosened.

  “Everything’s gonna be okay,” she murmured. “Sally called a team he knows. He served in ’Nam with the CEO’s dad or something like that.”

  “So long as you’re safe, baby.”

  “I will be. We’ll all be. Everything will be fine. I know it.”

  “I can’t lose you, too.” Laura Collins rolled over until she faced Kara, the two of them curling their bodies up until their knees touched. She clasped Kara’s hands, held them to her lips before pressing them to her heart. “I can’t.”

  “You won’t. I’m right here, aren’t I?”

  “Stay here.”

  “I will. I’ll stay with you.”

  Their eyes met. There was so much sadness in Mom’s eyes. So much pain. Years of it. Years of lost babies, a lost toddler. Lost years.

  Tears welled there. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand this, baby.”

  “You’re stronger than you think,” Kara whispered. “You’ve always been strong. You have to be. How else can you handle this world?”

  “Am I handling it?” Soft laughter. “I don’t know.”

  “You are, and you’re doing so well. You always have.” Kara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then brushed more away from her forehead. “We’ll get through this like we get through everything, right?”