Wolf Shield Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  He did love vacation. It was a hell of a lot better to lie around in the sun and sip cocktails and let the sound of crashing waves lull both him and his wolf into a state of relaxed smiles than it was to hang around with his teammates.

  The thing about them was he couldn’t get away even if he tried, no matter how much he wanted to sometimes. Their shared secret made them depend on each other more than they would’ve depended on any other team members, coworkers, whatever.

  It linked them, bound them. How could they ever venture out on their own when they were vulnerable? Then again, why would they want to? They were each other’s security.

  He finished his drink and signaled for another. There wasn’t enough rum or vodka in the world.

  At least he had another five days of unwinding ahead of him. Days full of convincing his wolf not to flat-out attack too many women. Only a few.

  He didn’t want to earn a reputation—or attract attention. There would be no way of shifting at night and prowling, hunting, if too many pairs of eyes were on him, if too many people remembered him.

  Her. Her. His wolf spotted a tanned beauty, a goddess whose bikini barely covered anything. What attracted him—both of them—wasn’t just the body. It was the way she smiled and laughed and didn’t seem to care much about whether anybody was watching.

  She was interesting with her sun-bleached hair and pearlescent smile.

  Which was why the ringing of his phone and breaking of his concentration was probably for the best. He might’ve gotten caught up in something he’d regret—regret starting, regret leaving behind when the time came. He’d never been any good at casual stuff.

  When he found Val’s name on the screen, he growled. Anything but this.

  “What?” he groaned on answering, staring out at the ocean and wondering when he’d get to see it again. Val wasn’t one for casual check-ins.

  “What do you think?” she grumbled. “Listen, you’re not the only one who was on vacation.”

  “What’s so important that we have to skip out on something we’ve been looking forward to for months?”

  “Serenity Starr.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  “That’s what’s so important.”

  “Good for whoever that is. We have plenty of people to take care of somebody named Serenity. I find it hard to believe we have to gather the troops for somebody named Serenity.”

  “She happens to be an insanely famous girl who received a death threat two days ago—a credible death threat. Credible enough that her agent felt it was important to reach out to us. Listen, I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s a mission, and this is our job.”

  He was about to offer another argument and another. It didn’t matter how important this supposedly was. He’d barely managed to relax yet.

  Doc left little room to argue when he patched himself into the call. “Get your ass on the helicopter that’ll be arriving in thirty minutes. It’ll take you to the nearest airport where the jet will be waiting.”

  “Don’t bother saying goodbye,” he muttered when three low beeps sounded in his ear, signaling the end of the call. He’d been put in his place, hadn’t he? Just like an unruly child who refused to fall in line.

  He’d almost forgotten about asking for another drink. A staff member brought it to him, and he downed it in two gulps before rising with a regretful groan. Val made a point. They had a job.

  Doc had a point, too. His ass was grass if he didn’t get on that jet.

  It didn’t take long to pack since he hadn’t brought that much. He hadn’t even had enough time to really spread out in the room. He took a second to gaze out toward the white sand, the palm trees, the sapphire sky, and jade water through the open balcony doors.

  All of it would be there when he came back someday. One day. Maybe.

  The helicopter was waiting exactly where Doc said it would be in the directions he’d sent to Braxton’s phone moments after hanging up on him, just far enough away from the resort that it didn’t attract attention. Discretion was always the name of the game.

  They arrived at the private airstrip not twenty minutes later, and the jet was waiting. His feet were heavy as he climbed the stairs, and he wondered if that blonde was still on the beach, if she was still smiling. What was her name, he wondered.

  “Oh no.” He dropped his bag on the floor between the rows of leather seats. “Not you too.”

  “Good to see you.” Zane sat back, hands folded behind his head. He wore his typical wry grin. “Not exactly the greeting I was hoping for.”

  “I didn’t mean I was sorry to see you. I’m just sorry you had to get roped into this too.” Braxton dropped into the seat across from Zane’s, rubbing his hands over his short, brown hair with a sigh.

  “It looks like we all did,” he shrugged, good-natured even though his vacation in Cancun had also been cut short. Nothing seemed to faze the youngest member of the team.

  “What I don’t understand is what’s so damn important about this Serenity person. Why do we all have to suffer because some internet nobody fears for her safety?”

  “Because that’s what we do.”

  Braxton winced, glaring at Zane. “Thanks for telling me,” he muttered.

  “What?” Logan asked, his voice filtering through the jet’s intercom system. “You’re pissed at him because he didn’t warn you that I was listening in the whole time?”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Braxton sighed. “I’m, like, six or seven Mai Tais into it right now, Logan.”

  “As if that matters. You act like we’re not all the same.” Logan sounded unusually gruff, but he was probably no happier about this than any of them were. As the team leader, he was the one who bore the brunt of everyone’s unhappiness when things like this happened.

  “I can still get buzzed, and you know that.” Braxton stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles, sliding down a little in the seat, and crossing his hands over his stomach. “Tell us what we’re working with here.”

  This was what Logan did best. He ordered people around just like he would’ve if they were in a unit together. The commander, the leader. He was the natural choice for his current job—or he would’ve been if the fact that his family’s money allowed them to set up shop hadn’t made him the team leader by default.

  “I want the two of you to assess. See if this is a legit threat,” Logan explained. “We’re not committed to taking this case on. Not yet.”

  They exchanged a look. “What makes you think it wouldn’t be legitimate?” Zane asked.

  “According to the manager, she gets threats like this all the time. Obsessed fans, all that. The internet is a vast and dark place, as I think we all know.”

  “It’s also a place where plenty of young people make their fortune,” Val piped up. Naturally, she’d be in on the call. “And not-so-young, too. Would you believe there are entire video channels devoted to kids opening toys?”

  “What?” Braxton snickered. “Opening toys? Like, presents? Birthday presents or something?”

  “No. Just flat-out opening packaged toys. I swear to God.”

  “What’s the point of that?”

  “Can we get back on-point here?” Logan barked. “Discuss the strange world of online bullshit on your own time.”

  That was a little harsh even for him. Logan was never one for idle chitchat, but he didn’t normally bark like that. Braxton exchanged another look with Zane, who shrugged. It would’ve been easier to read Logan’s mood and energy if they were together physically. The wolf always knew.

  “Anyway,” Val continued, sounding peeved and with good reason, “this Serenity is a big deal. An influencer. She puts out videos all the time—lifestyle stuff. Bragging, basically. Isn’t my life wonderful? She’s been in a few low-budget movies and was just announced as a leading candidate for a starring role in the next installment of that big dystopian franchise.”

  “So her profile’s o
n the rise,” Zane mused. “That’ll attract nutcases like honey attracts bees.”

  “Pollen attracts bees,” Doc corrected, like it mattered. “Regardless, she received a threat serious and jarring enough that her manager reached out. Melody Morris. She’s friends with a few big producers, one of whom is well-acquainted with our fearless leader’s mother.”

  “Her acting days,” Logan grunted. “She must’ve been bragging to somebody about her son’s personal private investigations firm. No matter how many times I’ve warned her to keep that to herself…”

  Braxton snickered, wishing she had. He’d still be on the beach.

  “She’s a beautiful, wealthy, spoiled girl in danger.” Zane grinned across the aisle. “Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

  “Not quite the same as the Collins case,” Doc pointed out. “This girl’s parents aren’t connected in any way, shape, or form. Her money comes from her work.”

  “You call that work? Page clicks, ad revenue?” Braxton laughed, not even bothering to hide what was little more than disgust. “Sorry if I don’t bow down in respect, but that hardly sounds like work. Her parents probably feel the same way, right? Ten to one, she has no relationship with them because they don’t agree with the way she spends her life. They’re blue-collar. They think she’s not much better than a whore. She probably hasn’t seen them in years.”

  “You’re right about that,” Val allowed. “She hasn’t seen them. They’re both dead.”

  Braxton ran a hand over his face, glad Zane was the only one who could see his embarrassment. “Either way,” he insisted, “they wouldn’t be proud of her.”

  “You’re more than likely correct, as she was a late-in-life baby. An adoption, in fact. They were both from an older generation that never would’ve understood the different opportunities available to people nowadays. There are kids out there who make hundreds of thousands a year playing video games and streaming their gameplay for people to watch, and yes, Logan, I know I’m wasting time.”

  Zane handed over a tablet where he’d been looking through images of the girl in question. Braxton couldn’t help whistling in appreciation. The girl was photogenic, for sure, with perfectly symmetrical features, high cheekbones, aqua eyes that reminded him of the beach he’d just left. She was likely a natural brunette—her brows were a light brown shade—but her head of thick curls was red-streaked blonde.

  “You should land in approximately two hours, so get some rest while you can,” Logan ordered. “And be ready for anything. Your service weapons are in the safe on the jet. I assumed you weren’t carrying while getting tan and sipping Mai Tais.”

  Did he snicker before cutting their connection? Or was Braxton only imagining things?

  “Serenity Starr,” he murmured, scrolling through photos. “Not her real name, obviously.” He had to wonder if anything about the girl was real.

  He’d find out soon enough, whether he wanted to or not.

  Chapter Two

  You whore. You think you can use people, and nothing will ever happen, like you can get away with it. You used Nick. Kennedy. Darcy. You’ll find out what happens to users like you soon. I’m watching.

  “Would you stop reading that, for God’s sake?” Melody forced Serenity’s phone from her hand, and for a second, it looked like she was thinking about throwing it across the room.

  “Give it,” Serenity barked, holding her hand out. “I’m not kidding.”

  “Neither am I. You’re driving yourself crazy reading that damn message over and over. What? Do you think it’ll change in between readings? Do you think you’ll learn something about the person who sent it?”

  “I don’t know what I think. I just know that I can’t stop seeing it in my head.” She folded her legs in front of her on the deep sofa, shrugging. “It doesn’t matter if I’m reading the words in front of my face or seeing it in my head. I’m gonna keep thinking about it.”

  Melody stood in front of her in the middle of the sunken living room, hands on her hips, still holding the phone. She was unconvinced.

  “Besides,” Serenity continued, “I do all my work on that thing, and you know it. That phone pays your salary—the salary I grant you. Give it back.” She thrust her hand out again, holding her manager’s gaze in a steady, unblinking glare.

  It wasn’t like her to throw around language like that. No matter how much revenue her videos and ads and public appearances had brought in over the past two years, she wasn’t comfortable acting that way. She hoped she never would be.

  Melody blinked first. She handed the phone over with a sigh. “Please, compromise for once. Stop reading the damn message. I’m already in contact with that private investigations firm Louie recommended. Everything’s under control. Just focus on your script.”

  The script. Like there was any chance of her retaining any information after what had happened in the last twelve hours. Like a stupid movie mattered.

  That was hilarious, the fact that she was already thinking of the movie as stupid when it had been the biggest thing in her life. There was still champagne left over that hadn’t been drunk during the celebration party—and they’d had a lot of champagne that night, among other things.

  Now? It couldn’t have mattered less. It might as well have been one of those pieces of shit Melody got her hooked up with in the beginning. Low-budget movies were one thing. Low-budget movies written and produced for exploitation with a barely legible script full of schlocky, overused tropes were another.

  The front door opened, and two pairs of footfalls echoed through the front hall. “Serenity?” Lola called out. “Where you at?”

  “The living room,” she sighed. Lola and Angelica had gone out for what they called reinforcements. They were the only ones in her circle who knew about the message.

  Even then, she had the feeling they were two too many. Yes, she wanted somebody to lean on, but if she could’ve chosen any two people to be in the car with her when that email came through…

  Lola barreled into the room. “Sushi. Your fave, babe.” She dropped a paper bag on the coffee table after clearing away books and magazines—magazines with her face on the cover.

  “Thanks.” She smiled, looking toward the front door in time to find Luke walking in. He’d gone with the girls to the restaurant just in case somebody was following the car to and from the house. A pair of lesser-ranking guards had stayed behind at his command.

  He rolled his eyes, blowing out an exasperated sigh through pursed lips. For such a big, scary-looking guy covered in ink, he was the one person who could make her laugh even when she was feeling her worst.

  This situation definitely ranked up there with the worst of them.

  He crossed the open room, going straight to the glass doors that opened onto the patio, the pool, and the hills beyond. “Nothing happened while you were gone,” Melody told him.

  “I would’ve known if something had,” he grunted. “I would’ve known before you did.”

  Angelica rolled her eyes as she pulled plastic containers from the bag. “Guess who we saw having lunch out on the sidewalk in front of everybody?” she asked with a wicked smile.

  “Who?”

  She paused for drama. It was always obvious when she was pausing for drama. “Ben. And Dani.”

  It should’ve made her angry. Shouldn’t it? She should’ve been pissed off. Dani? Dani! Who did she think she was, having lunch with Ben? “That girl is thirsty,” she muttered, opening her container without looking at her friends.

  “Yeah, she is. She was taking selfies with him when we walked past. I bombed one of them,” Lola giggled.

  “How?” Serenity managed to smile a little.

  Lola jumped to her feet and positioned herself a few paces away before strolling slowly. “You’re her,” she announced. Serenity rolled her eyes—the thought of being Dani Larkin was enough to make her want to hang herself—but went along with it.

  She began to casually stroll past, then bent to fix her sho
e before twisting to the right, facing Serenity, and flipping her off. “I’m pretty sure she caught me in one of her shots,” she laughed.

  “She’s so stupid. She’ll post it to Insta and not even notice you back there,” Angelica cackled.

  Yes, Dani was about as smart as a dead leaf. “She probably makes Ben feel smart,” Lola suggested. It was clear she was trying to be helpful, to ease whatever pain that little announcement had caused. Angelica could’ve been a little more graceful about it.

  Then again, it was better to hear it from a friend than to see the two of them plastered all over the place. Now that they’d done lunch out in the open where anybody could see and snap a shot of them, they’d be the next big thing, the couple of the moment. Speculation would run rampant.

  Which meant speculation would turn to her too. How was she holding up at this terrible time? Her longtime love dumped her, then went out with stupid, pathetic, sloppy Dani Larkin—darling of the gamers, little miss pigtails and striped tights. Like anybody dressed that way anymore.

  “This isn’t low sodium soy sauce,” she observed after looking around in the bag. “You know I only use the low sodium. What—do you want me to blow up like a balloon?”

  The girls exchanged a look, which only irritated her. “Forget it. I’ll get some from the fridge.”

  “I’ll grab it for you. I was on my way in there anyway.” Luke shot her a look that told her to calm down. Yes, she was being a baby, but how would he react when he knew somebody was stalking him? And then finding out his ex who was only recently an ex was out with a skank?

  The thing was she didn’t care nearly as much about Ben as she should’ve. Maybe that was the real problem, what was really upsetting her: that it didn’t matter who he had lunch with, that he could walk off the Santa Monica Pier and never come back and she wouldn’t care.

  The thing about questioning whether a stalker would kill her—and when—was how it tended to bring everything into focus and how it thrust everything that wasn’t actually important way into the background. It didn’t matter half as much now as it would have, say, yesterday that Ben was with somebody else so soon after the breakup.