Wolf Shield Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  He bolted up from the couch. “Do what you want. It’s obvious nobody can tell you anything. Just don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

  “Thanks for the professional attitude,” she spat as he stalked out of the room. Where was he going? She didn’t know and didn’t care so long as she didn’t have to look at him for a while.

  But that wasn’t true, was it? She could tell herself as much as she wanted that he didn’t matter, that he didn’t know what he was talking about, that she didn’t need him or his team or anybody telling her what to do.

  It wasn’t true. It was pride and stubbornness. Once that first searing wave of resentment passed, she was left shaking and alone and terrified and, oh, so guilty over that girl. Whoever she was.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Of all the stupid, willful, deliberately obtuse people he’d ever met, she had to be the worst—which was saying something considering some of the people he’d served with and under.

  It was like she deliberately chose to hurt herself, to put herself in danger. To put others in danger, for that matter, since he’d be the one who would end up taking a bullet for her if push came to shove.

  He thrust his hands into his pockets and stared out over the hills. What was wrong with her? Did she honestly believe any of this mattered? Sure, it was a nice view. She had a nice house. Was it worth more than her life?

  The memory of her lying there, helpless, sobbing tugged at him, tempering his rage if only slightly, enough to keep him in human form rather than forcing him to shift, to give in to his primal side and take his frustration out on a stray dog or cat or whatever else roamed these hills.

  The wolf remembered that sobbing girl, remembered how easy it would’ve been to gather her up and vow to protect her from everything and everyone. He still wanted to do that.

  It wasn’t so easy. It never was, especially when it came to somebody like her, determined to have her way even if it killed her.

  Damn it, why didn’t she see?

  His phone rang. “Yeah?” he barked to Val before wincing. She hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t her fault he was working with somebody so hell-bent on destroying herself.

  “The photo is from a murder that took place four years ago.” There was relief in her voice. “I uploaded it and did a reverse search to see if it had ever been posted anywhere. Just a hunch, but it paid off.”

  “Oh, thank God.” It seemed wrong, being grateful when somebody out there in the world had been murdered at some point. Brutally, too. “She’ll feel better knowing that. She blames herself for that girl’s death, whoever she is.”

  “She doesn’t have to worry about that. Whoever this is, though, they’ve got a twisted mind. They probably don’t know she’s working with people like us who’ll think to look into things like that.”

  “True,” he muttered. “Or they know we’re here, but they don’t know we’re more than just security.”

  “Good point. Anyway, I thought you’d wanna know that. Logan said Jace and Sledge should be there by nightfall.”

  “Oof. Jace? Will he be flying without Kara?”

  “Of course,” she snickered.

  “How’d you manage to convince him to surgically separate himself from her?”

  “Easy. Logan reminded him of who signs his paychecks. All kidding aside, he jumped at the chance. Maybe domestic bliss is boring him.” He and Kara Collins had been mated for over a month and were still in their honeymoon period. It was only somewhat nauseating.

  Less so now that Braxton had met Serenity and knew what it meant for his wolf to lose all common sense, to forget years of training, professionalism, all of it. It all went out the window the second she said or did something to get under his skin. She was so good at getting under his skin it was scary.

  “It’ll be good to have them here,” he concluded, and he felt better after their conversation than he had beforehand. The girl wasn’t killed because of Serenity. Her murder was merely used as a tool to scare the hell out of a defenseless girl.

  She’d feel better, and it mattered too much whether she felt better. It was one of the more important things in the world—not only her security but that she felt secure.

  He walked around the home’s exterior, looking up at the windows to Serenity’s bedroom. They overlooked the pool and the view beyond. She wasn’t on the sofa anymore, so he guessed she’d gone up there. It was hardly the time to do down to the gym for a sweat session.

  For a second, the idea of going up there to comfort her went through his head. He told himself it would only be to tell her the photo wasn’t from a recent murder, but the wolf knew better.

  She needed to know about the picture. He’d have to behave himself. The wolf would have to behave himself too. Not necessarily the easiest thing in the world, telling a wolf what to do.

  Even more difficult: forcing the wolf to obey.

  Zane was messing with the security feed. “She’s upstairs,” he announced when Braxton stepped inside. “I’m surprised the door’s still on its hinges. She slammed it so hard.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less. The pic was of a girl killed years ago. Val ran a reverse search on it or whatever she does.”

  “Leave it to her.” He sank back against the sofa cushions. “That’s a relief, and I feel like a dick for saying that because somebody did die.”

  “No, I felt the same way. At least she doesn’t have to feel like it’s her fault. I was gonna go up and tell her, but…” He looked up at the ceiling, skeptical.

  “It’ll make her feel better, and don’t even pretend you don’t want to be up there with her.”

  Braxton held a finger to his lips, eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need to hear that. And neither do I, to be honest. You know what I mean.”

  “I’m just saying. You wanna go up there. Life’s a lot easier when you don’t deny yourself all the time.”

  “How did we end up on this topic? We’re not talking about me right now. We’re not even talking about you.”

  “Sure, sure.” He rolled his eyes with a smirk.

  Sadly, it would be less of a pain in the ass to go upstairs and face her than it would be to listen to Zane being Zane. He took the stairs two at a time, telling himself along the way that it would be good to ease her mind. No big deal. He’d ease her mind and go back downstairs and wait for his team.

  Meanwhile, he’d know where she was. He wouldn’t have to worry about her for a little while.

  A brief knock on the tall, wide, white door resulted in nothing but silence. He rolled his eyes. Was she seriously doing this? “Serenity?” he muttered, his mouth close to the crack in the door. “Come on. Answer me.”

  Nothing. Either she was playing games, acting like a petulant little child, or she was hurt.

  “If this is a game, you’re going to make me break this door down for no reason,” he warned. Was this what parents went through with bratty kids? Good thing he didn’t have any of his own and never wanted any because this was more than enough.

  What was he supposed to do? If he kicked the door down and there was nothing to worry about, he’d look like a complete idiot. If he didn’t and she was genuinely in need of help, he’d be neglecting his duty and would feel like just as big an idiot, if not worse. Guilty. Negligent.

  “I’m gonna kick it down. Right now. And I’m not paying for the damages.” He took a step back. Was this actually happening? Was he letting her do this to him? And since when did he second-guess everything he did? This wasn’t him at all.

  “Here goes. You were warned.” He took a step back and delivered a kick straight at the handle, breaking the lock and sending the door flying inward.

  Serenity sat in the center of her king-sized bed, cross-legged and with a computer open in her lap. “It wasn’t locked, you know. You could’ve just opened it like a person. Using your hand.”

  God damn it. “No. I’m pretty sure it was locked.”

  “It wasn’t. I d
eliberately didn’t lock it.” Her voice was flat, without an ounce of humor or sarcasm. “I thought you might wanna come up and apologize. Now, my door won’t close. What a great day this is turning out to be.”

  She’d changed her clothes, moving away from the sexy-yet-casual look she’d donned earlier for her videos. If anything, seeing her in an oversized t-shirt and leggings was a relief. He liked her better this way. Less pretense.

  A shame she had to be in such a low, frightened, dark place to be this person, this real, normal sort of girl who didn’t need professionals for her hair and makeup. It occurred to him that she might be slightly intimidating, and that wasn’t a pleasant realization.

  “So? Did you come to apologize for being a jerk? Or were you gonna keep being a jerk some more? Because I don’t know how much more I can take after seeing and hearing you break down a door that didn’t need breaking down.”

  He hadn’t moved from just inside the room. What was wrong with him, for Christ’s sake? “I came to tell you…” What had he come to tell her? Had he lost his mind? “Oh. Right. I spoke with one of our techs. She’s a genius. She found out that picture wasn’t of anyone killed recently. It’s not your fault. She was already gone before now.”

  He expected her to be relieved, to let out a long sigh, to maybe collapse a little. A few tears?

  Instead, she insisted on surprising him. “You know, I was thinking that might’ve been it.” She leaned back on her elbows, her gaze never wavering.

  “What?” He threw his hands into the air, looking around the large, breezy, open room. “Are you serious? I broke down the goddamn door—”

  “Which you didn’t need to break down.”

  “—all because I thought you’d be so glad to know that poor girl wasn’t killed because of somebody having something against you.”

  “And I’m glad. I’m glad you came up here and confirmed what I thought might be true. I’m not glad a girl died, of course. I’m not a total psycho.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  She patted the bed with a sigh. “Come sit. I owe you an apology too.”

  “That implies I owe you one.” But he edged nearer the bed anyway. “Which I don’t think I do. You were being stubborn and impossible. You wouldn’t listen to reason. I can’t sit back and praise you when you were actively disregarding your best interests. My job is to see to your safety, and I can’t do that if you’re running around like nothing’s the matter.”

  “I need you to understand something.” She fished a stack of papers out from under a fluffy down blanket. “This is my script. This is my life right now. Learning this. Doing a good job. I owe it to myself. Do you understand?” She tossed it his way. It landed on the bed with a thunk. The thing was thick.

  “That’s how you see it? Something you owe yourself?”

  She laughed—not a humorous laugh but wry, chagrined. “Do you think I’m fame-hungry? Maybe I was at one point. I saw what everybody sees when they look at Hollywood, and that was what I thought I wanted. Back then, people who’d say things like ‘I just want to be an artist and have a career’ made me gag. I’d think, who do they think they are? Do they think they’re so much better than everybody else?”

  She gazed down at the script between them like it was her baby, with love and hope. “But that? That gives me a chance to be more than just an internet girl. I can put to use the things I learned in school. All the classes I’ve paid for, everything. And maybe, one day…”

  He watched with his heart in his throat as she bit her lip, looking away from him and out the window. “One day,” she whispered in a choked voice, “maybe they’ll show it at the prison and Mom will see me. And she’ll know everything’s okay. And maybe she’ll tell people who I am, and she’ll think what she did was worth it because he was gonna kill me. He was drunk, and I was a crying baby, and he was mad and yelling and starting to rage, and she...”

  It was rare for his wolf to be completely, deafeningly silent, but that was the case as he sat on the bed and watched and listened and wished there was something he could do or say to make it better. Even the wolf was at a loss, stunned, sensing her grief and shame and pain that she’d carried through her life.

  All he trusted himself to do was let his hand slide across that fluffy comforter and touch hers, winding his fingers around hers and holding on.

  “We’ll find a way. Okay?” he murmured. “We’ll find a way to get you through it.”

  Even if it killed him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  How was it possible that all four of the team members sent to her by this Logan person were so damn gorgeous? They were freaks of nature, all of them.

  And they were all in her dining room, and she was actually cooking dinner for them. For the first time in years, she was cooking a meal for more than just herself.

  Even then, she almost never bothered. Not when there were so many options at her fingertips. With a swipe, she could have sushi or pizza or salad or pad thai or curry or tacos or anything else she wasn’t supposed to eat. Why get the kitchen dirty for the cleaning crew to deal with later?

  Because that’s their job, Melody would remind her whenever she cleaned up after herself. They come in to clean up after you. You don’t have to worry about those things anymore. You’re not in Kansas.

  And the way she’d mention Kansas. Like it was a dirty word. Like it was something to be ashamed of, coming from there. From her family. Serenity had never found out where Melody came from. Wouldn’t it be great if she was from someplace like that? A flyover state, someplace in the middle of nowhere?

  They’d keep working together. She knew it. Melody was used to her tantrums, and she was used to apologizing and asking her manager to come back. Besides, now that movie money would start rolling in, Melody would be an idiot to walk away and stay away.

  One of the guys—his name was Jace, she recalled—wandered into the kitchen. “You need help in here?”

  She looked up from the thick steaks about to go on the grill grates with a smirk. “You know your way around a kitchen?”

  “Not fair,” he pointed out. “I could just as easily assume a movie star living in the hills wouldn’t know how to turn on the stove.”

  “That’s true,” she admitted. “Sorry. But I’m not a movie star—not yet.”

  “And I don’t really know my way around a kitchen,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I just wanted to be helpful if I could. You’ve had a long couple of days, and here you are cooking for us.”

  “I don’t mind. In fact, I like it. My friends aren’t the dinner party type, if you know what I mean, unless the party’s at a producer’s house or something like that.”

  “What’d you put on the steaks? It smells good.”

  She shrugged. “Salt, pepper, onion and garlic powders. I have herbed butter waiting to go on top once they come off, and rosemary to brush across the top.” She waved a stalk of the herb.

  “Where’d you learn to cook? I’m impressed.”

  “My grandma taught me everything. Granddad was a meat-and-potatoes man.” She giggled softly. “And I watch a lot of cooking shows. They’re how I unwind.”

  “I guess you could do worse out here, in your circle, with good money. People unwind in many different ways—not all so wholesome as sitting in to watch a cooking show.”

  “I’ve never thought of myself as wholesome.” She touched one of the streaks in her hair. “I mean, this would’ve gotten me shunned where I came from, and let’s not even talk about my tattoo.” She patted her shoulder with the opposite hand, where an angel sat.

  “That’s nothing out here,” he reasoned. “I lived just outside LA for a few years when I was a teenager.”

  “Really? What brought you?”

  “My dad’s job. That was the reason we left too. I’ve always missed the weather.”

  “It’s nice, for sure—though I guess I couldn’t get away with leaving the constant tornado warnings behind. Now, it’s earthquakes
, but you get used to the little tremors.”

  She had the feeling he was deliberately trying to get to know her, to get a feel for her. It was easy to forget these guys weren’t just muscle. They explored the minds of the people they protected, and the people they sought.

  She didn’t even mind, at least not much. Maybe because he at least tried to talk to her like a human being. She’d gotten off on the wrong foot with Braxton from the beginning, all because he’d talked to her the way he had and looked at her like she was nothing. Like she was a joke.

  Now, she didn’t know what she thought about him. It was easier not to think of him at all, hence her idea of cooking dinner. It gave her something to do.

  She slapped the steaks onto the grill and smiled to herself when they immediately started sizzling. The potatoes in the oven were baked and ready to go, and the salad she’d put together was chilling in the fridge. That sizzle, combined with the voices of men arguing good-naturedly, brought back more happy memories than she could handle all at once.

  It hadn’t all been bad. So much of her life had been good. It was easy to forget all the things she’d imagined when she was a kid now that she had everything she could ever hope for.

  Another newcomer, named Sledge, wandered in. He was the only one of them with long hair—and it was so shiny, raven-black, that she found herself envying it and wondering what he did to make it look so healthy. “Smells good in here,” he grunted. “I’m starving.”

  “Patience,” she warned with a grin. “Why do they call you Sledge?”

  Jace laughed. “Yeah, Sedge. Why do we call you that?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck with a wry grin that almost took her breath away. Jesus, they were all so gorgeous. “I had a tendency to—”

  “Had?” Zane was laughing as he entered the kitchen. “You had a tendency?”

  “Had implies past tense,” Jace agreed. “As in, no longer a problem.”