Wolf Shield Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  “I didn’t say that,” Jace was quick to correct. The energy coming from the younger of the two men was starting to grow, to rise. He was starting to wonder if something larger than anything they’d considered up to that point was really going on.

  Peter, on the other hand, had a darker energy. Smug. He knew damn well what went on in that family since he’d been involved with them for decades. He saw Jace and the entire team as an insult, like Sal didn’t think the detail was good enough to keep the family safe, to keep Kara safe.

  Even if his wolf didn’t feel this loud and clear, his study of human nature and psychology would’ve painted a pretty accurate picture. Peter was a professional through and through, but he didn’t like newcomers forcing their way onto the scene.

  It occurred to Jace then that if somebody on the senator’s security team had anything to do with the death threat to Kara or any shady business in general, they might’ve taken it out on Sal down on the beach.

  Why else would he walk down to the beach for no reason? It would have to be somebody he trusted.

  And only someone who knew precisely where the cameras had been hidden—which they were and had been very carefully—would be capable of disabling them without being spotted first.

  He pulled out his phone and texted Zane. Look through all the footage. Anybody walk past a camera? Where were the men on duty today at the time the cameras went out?

  “What’s that about?” Peter nodded to the phone. “Who are you texting? Who do you not trust?”

  “That isn’t any of your business,” Jace reminded him in as even a tone as possible. His wolf bristled, snarling. An animal’s instincts were almost never off when it came to whether or not a person could be trusted. Peter didn’t seem untrustworthy, but he didn’t seem like the type to go out of his way to be helpful, either.

  He sent another text, this one to Val. How common is it for a new senator—or any newly elected politician—to need 24/7 protection for their family? Was there anything in the news about the senator right around the time he was elected? Anything that might raise a red flag for us—financial changes, etc.?

  As he typed, he explained, “I have my teammates looking into various possibilities. You never know when you’ll land on the thing that unlocks an entire case. It’s usually the least obvious aspect, something everybody overlooks on the first and even the second or third pass.”

  “Such as?” Greg didn’t sound like he was challenging Jace or his team, which was a good sign. He might still be able to work with these guys, earn their trust and learn things he wouldn’t ordinarily be in a position to learn.

  Jace shrugged. “For instance, and I’m being completely upfront when I share this, I wonder if it’s common for newly elected politicians to have such a tight security detail. It’s one thing to be, you know, cautious. When a politician is fresh, newly in the public eye, I can imagine wanting to leave nothing to chance. Especially when young kids are involved.”

  “I didn’t think it was a crime for a man to want to take care of his family,” Peter snickered. Yes, he was going to be a problem. He already was, and he had no idea just what thin ice he was treading.

  “I never said it was, and nothing I’ve said thus far implicates the senator in anything. I know you wanna be in his corner,” Jace allowed, meeting the guard’s wary gaze. “I get it. I want the same thing. If there was a threat in the early days, that threat might not have gone away. Not entirely.”

  “What, you think somebody who had a beef with him two decades ago is gonna come back and pick up where they left off?” To call the guy’s laughter derisive would’ve been a generous understatement.

  “What if they never left off in the first place?” Jace countered. That cut the laughter off real fast. “Listen. I’m not saying the senator is a bad guy. Far from it. I respect the work he’s done—but that work is bound to attract the wrong people. People interested in shutting him up. People with the resources it takes to make good on threats. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  It was gratifying watching the lines between Peter’s brows smooth out. He unfolded his arms, leaning forward again. “Do you think the accident wasn’t really an accident? Is that why you asked about it?”

  “You tell me what you think,” Jace suggested instead. “You were around at the time. Did it strike you as an accident? Did you believe the reports?”

  He didn’t want to say, which spoke well of him in Jace’s book. Speaking his mind was the same as being unfaithful to his longtime boss. It showed he had character, which plenty of people didn’t have.

  “It’s not like it wouldn’t be possible,” Peter murmured. Every word came slowly, like he was pulling them out from the deepest depths of his soul. “You get animals in the road all the time.”

  “This was near the family’s Westchester home,” Jace clarified.

  Peter nodded. “There’s all sorts of woods out there, all kinds of animals. It’s strange if you don’t pass fresh roadkill at least a few times a week. People tend to speed, even though there aren’t a lot of lights on the road and it twists out of nowhere.”

  “So it’s perfectly normal for somebody to encounter deer.”

  “Sure thing. The cops had no trouble believing it—besides, who would lie about something like that, especially when their kid was involved?”

  “And he tested clean for all substances,” Jace added, to which Peter nodded.

  “Sure thing. They put him through the wringer, no doubt. I mean, the man had just lost his baby girl, and they were questioning him like it was his fault. Like he was a criminal, some common thug. It turned my stomach.”

  Peter was highly protective, the perfect sort of person to go into his line of work. It fit him like a glove. He was fiercely devoted to his boss, to the family, and had a clear-cut sense of right and wrong.

  Would that sense be so clear-cut if William was the one who’d done something wrong, though? Would duty trump conscience?

  Val called—as usual, she was efficient. “Excuse me, and thanks for your time. I appreciate it.” Jace made a point of meeting their gaze before standing and going out to the back patio.

  It was all so peaceful now, so soon after the burst of activity earlier. There was almost no evidence of anything happening out there. Especially not a murder.

  “Talk to me,” he muttered on answering the call.

  “Ooh, is that how you talk to Kara? No wonder she likes you so much.”

  He had to grin. “What’s up? Did you find anything?”

  “For one thing, senators are in charge of their own private security teams, so it’s difficult to answer the question of whether all senators use this level of security for their families. I’d need a little more time on that one.”

  “Fair enough. Not even you can work miracles.”

  “Hey. I take offense, especially considering the miracle I’ve already worked. I’m gonna send you a few files via email. The good senator’s campaign paperwork—pertaining to donors.”

  “Huh. Good thinking. You’re probably a genius.”

  “Tell me something I don’t already know.” She hung up then, always the one to get the last word.

  If William Collins was hiding anything, they’d find it, and when they did, he’d make the senator regret hiding anything in the first place.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was a misty morning, the sort of morning where a person knew without stepping foot outside that it would be humid, muggy. When the rising sun hit the trees just right, dozens of delicate spiderwebs were revealed. Dewdrops hung from them, sparkling like diamonds.

  Kara rested her head against the back of the chair, knees drawn to her chest. She was stiff from immobility, having stayed that way much of the night. Sleep had visited a few times, but it was always thin, unreliable. It had never held her for very long.

  Sal. Poor Sal. Her mantra, one she had repeated throughout the night. Poor Sal.

  She ran a hand over her cheek whe
n a teardrop spilled onto it, an unconscious gesture. She’d been doing that on and off all night too, sleeping or crying or staring out the window and wondering who would be next.

  Knowing it would probably be her, not knowing why. As far as she knew, she’d never really hurt anybody.

  It had been a long night of the soul, a trying night. She’d gone through everybody, absolutely everyone she’d ever known more deeply than just a passing acquaintance. It wasn’t easy—she was always the girl with plenty of friends.

  But how many of them were friends? That was tricky. It wasn’t like she hadn’t always known there was a difference between kids she partied with—kids whose parents her parents knew and who therefore became part of her social circle by default—and her actual friends.

  Now though, she was going deeper than she ever had before, picking through her memories, facing things she would rather have run away from.

  She hadn’t always been nice, had she? She hadn’t always been welcoming. She’d been an insufferable snob for a pretty long period of her life, turning her back on people who only wanted to be part of her circle, all because they didn’t have enough money or the right clothes or the right car. They didn’t live in the right neighborhoods.

  Or they were ugly or fat or nerdy.

  Another tear and this time she let it flow without wiping it away. She had probably made more than a few kids cry. She never would’ve come straight out and told them why she didn’t want to be friends. She wasn’t a bully, per se—that much she could rest easy knowing for sure.

  Still, she’d never stepped in and stopped a bully, either. She had never extended a hand in friendship to a kid who needed it.

  Not that she believed any of them would be behind what was currently happening. What was going on now took a lot of skill, planning, time, and money. It wasn’t something a single person could pull off on their own. It would take a group of people.

  No matter how hard she thought, no matter how many memories she went through, she couldn’t bring herself to imagine any of those people from her past pulling off something like this. She was as hard on herself as she could be, but still, she couldn’t think of anybody capable of it. Sure, people changed, and any of the people she’d been mean to could have turned into the sort of person to head up an attack like this, but in her heart, she knew it wasn’t true. In her heart, she knew this had to do with something much bigger than her—no matter whether or not she wanted to believe it. And she didn’t want to because it might mean facing truths even harder to come to terms with than her own past.

  It couldn’t have been later than seven in the morning when a soft knock sounded on the bedroom door. She hardly stirred. There was no reason to expect privacy anymore, not now when a murder had taken place on the property. Poor Sal.

  The door opened slowly, without a sound, but she felt it just the same. She felt him. “Good morning,” she whispered, still facing the window.

  “Don’t tell me you spent the entire night in that chair.”

  She snickered softly to herself. “Fine. I won’t tell you.”

  “Kara. You’re not helping anyone by punishing yourself.”

  “That isn’t what I’m trying to do. I’m the last person I’m thinking of right now.” She heard him crossing the room, his footsteps soft but audible. What would he think if she told him how comforting his presence was? Would he laugh? She wouldn’t blame him if he did, since any such confession would seem to come out of the blue.

  It was true though. He comforted her just by being in the same room. If he’d sat there, silent, staring out the window like she did, it would be enough. Just knowing he was there made her feel whole in a way she never had before.

  Yeah, he would probably laugh.

  “Who are you thinking of, then?” He stood just next to the chair, slightly behind her. He smelled good—a spicy cologne whose brand she couldn’t quite put her finger on. If she knew what it was, she would buy it by the barrel. But no, because it would probably never smell quite as good on anybody else as it did on him.

  Underneath that smell was something else. Masculine, rough, musky. She didn’t know if she liked that or the cologne more.

  “Lots of people,” she confessed, shaking herself free of the spell he was putting her under. They had a professional relationship, nothing more than that, and unless she wanted Sal to have died for nothing, it would be a good idea to get her head in the game. “Everybody in my life who I can actually remember.”

  “You don’t think this could be anyone you knew in the past, do you?”

  “I can’t help but feel responsible, you know? It’s like I have to double-check myself. If I’m responsible for this in any way, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  Was that his hand hovering over her hair? She felt its presence if not its touch. It went away a moment later, so quickly she might have imagined it being there at all, but she didn’t think she imagined it.

  “You aren’t responsible. You are the victim in this.”

  “Oh, please. Don’t call me that. I know your heart is the right place, but I don’t like the sound of that word. Besides,” she snickered sarcastically, “Sal was the victim. Not me.”

  “Sal had a job to do. He understood what the consequences of that job could be just the same as anyone who devotes their life to the safety of somebody else.”

  “He didn’t die protecting me,” she snapped, finally looking up at him. He was looking down at her, his expression one of concern. At least it wasn’t pity. She could stand anything but pity.

  “Maybe he did. Maybe he thought he was protecting you by going to the beach. Why else would he have gone? He wasn’t down there for a swim. He was on duty. He was doing his job. Like I said, he knew what that might mean. He knew it every day. He suited up, he showed up, and he was prepared for what might happen.”

  Deep in her heart, she knew he was right.

  What was more, she knew Sal would have said the same thing if he was there. He would’ve told her he had a job to do, that he had done it, that he would’ve done it again if it meant protecting her or her family.

  Somehow, knowing it didn’t make her feel better.

  “My heart hurts so much,” she whispered.

  Jace crouched in front of her, taking one of her hands. “I know. I’m so sorry. I swear we will find who did this. You don’t have to worry about that. We’ll find them, and they’ll pay for what they’ve done.”

  It was reflex, the way her hand tightened around his. “No. You have to be careful.”

  “We’ll do what needs to be done,” he assured her. “Remember what I just said. In this line of work, we know what we’re getting into. There are no illusions here. I don’t lie to myself about what might happen—I can tell you, and I mean this sincerely, we are the best of the best when it comes to work like this. My team is suited perfectly for work like this.”

  “Why? Because you were in the military?”

  His jaw worked like he was holding something back. “Yes. Because we’re so highly skilled and well-trained. We know what to do in these situations. That’s as much as I can tell you.”

  “Does everything have to be such a secret?”

  “Call it a habit.” He managed a ghost of a smile. She sighed, taking in the way the morning sun played over the lines of his face, the way the rays filtering in through the window turned his eyes to amber.

  It was almost scary, how much she wanted to be with him. How easy it was to fall into fantasy, seeing him like this every morning, watching him smile as the day began. The two of them, peaceful and content, whispering for fear of breaking the sanctity of a silent dawn.

  Which was why she leaned forward all of a sudden. Which was why when he caught the back of her head in his hand, she didn’t fight her way free. Why her heart took off at a gallop, why her chest and throat tightened and the sound of racing blood filled her ears with a roaring noise.

  He paused for just a second, searching her face for answers. Di
d she mean it? Was this real? Should he do this, or would it be a terrible mistake?

  She raised a hand to his cheek, tracing his jaw with her thumb while caressing with her other fingertips. This was the only thing that made sense now, the only thing that was right—what her body had wanted since the moment they met. Her brain was finally catching up, understanding there was something more between them than met the eye.

  “Yes,” she breathed, and that was all it took. He captured her mouth with his, and something inside her sang out that yes, this was true and real and right. She belonged here, with him, and they might as well be the only two people in the world. This was all that mattered, if only just for now.

  She slid off the chair to her knees in front of him and locked her arms around his neck. He held her around the waist, crushing her against his unyielding body. He was made of granite or what felt like it. Granite that somehow moved, that flexed and bunched under her hands.

  His lips moved over hers, pressing and tasting, before parting. She parted hers, welcoming his probing tongue, groaning as he plundered her mouth. His soft grunts were like music that moved through her core, starting a fire that quickly spread.

  He wanted this too. The satisfaction it gave her was enough to curl her toes. She clutched him, nails digging into endless muscle, wanting more, more, always more. His kiss was water on parched desert. There would never be enough.

  He guided her to the floor, and she went gladly, stretching out under him, immediately hooking a leg around his and drawing him closer. Her hands slid under his shirt as his hand slid under hers, touching bare skin and setting it on fire. She drew his lower lip between her teeth, sucking and nipping, and the growl that formed deep in his throat made her gasp.

  There was power here, power and strength, power that sent wetness pooling between her thighs.

  “Yes, yes,” she gasped when his mouth left hers, traveling down her throat. She held his head fast, her fingers curling in his hair, eyes closed and mouth open as she sighed with pleasure and desire for more, more, all of him.