Wolf Shield Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  “I wish they would tell us something,” he admitted. His wolf paced in his mind, hackles up, teeth bared. Every minute that passed without an answer as to Marnie’s condition made the tension that much worse. No, they weren’t family, but they were the people who’d discovered the accident. Surely, the hospital staff had to understand that.

  “They might not know anything yet,” Logan reminded him in a tone that sounded a little too close to patronizing for Sledge’s comfort. This wasn’t the time to get angry or anything like that, no matter how his jangling nerves wanted him to.

  Logan probably had a point. Every new person who came in with a truly grisly injury meant Marnie would fall that much further down the list of priorities. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe her injuries had only been superficial. If only somebody would tell them which of the curtained-off sections she was in. Sure, it would surprise her to be face-to-face with somebody who in her mind was a stranger, but once he explained who he was, she would more than likely soften up.

  Or not. He didn’t know her at all, no matter what the wolf thought. Just because his wolf was half-crazy after the slightest touch of his fingers to her skin didn’t mean she would reciprocate. He’d already seen enough of what his teammates had gone through upon first meeting the women who would eventually become their mates.

  Not that Marnie was his mate by any means, but she was a member of the opposite sex whom his wolf had very strong feelings toward. It was torture, plain and simple, because there was nothing he could do for her right now.

  She didn’t even know he existed.

  Which was another problem the wolf had with this situation. He wanted her to know him. He needed her to.

  “I’m gonna go get a cup of coffee,” he muttered, needing something to do to distract himself from feeling useless. He might as well not even have been there. Naturally, there was nothing he could do, and in the grand scheme of things, he meant little in this situation.

  Which was exactly what made his skin crawl.

  At least they’d done away with those old-fashioned coffee machines, the ones in the old TV shows and movies. A paper cup would fall, and brown sludge would pour out into it. Now, there was a small lounge with a pod machine. He only had to choose the flavor he wanted and press a button.

  Not that he wanted any sort of flavor. Plain coffee was enough for him. He drank it black, gulping half of the cup down at once.

  It only occurred to him after he’d swallowed that coffee was the last thing he needed. It wouldn’t settle his nerves one bit. He almost felt like he should apologize in advance to Logan for the pain in the ass he was going to be.

  There were so many people sitting around, some of them leaning against each other. A few of them wore shell-shocked expressions that Sledge recognized all too well. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for them, whoever they were, whoever they were there for. Human life was so fragile.

  Granted, his own life had not been so fragile in a long time. If he were ever in a car accident, barring the sort of complication Marnie’s accident had involved, he would’ve recovered quickly. That branch through the heart, however, would’ve made it quite a lot more difficult—if not impossible.

  It just went to show there were always conditions under which he would not be able to survive. It brought his frailty—the little frailty there was—into sharper focus.

  Logan met him in the corridor, pointing to his ear. Sledge took this for what it meant: he wanted both of them listening in on this call. Sledge pulled his earpiece from his pocket and inserted it in his ear, then tapped it to turn it on. Instantly, he was connected to Val.

  And he caught her in the middle of a yawn. “Sorry. It’s been a long night for all of us,” she mumbled. Her voice didn’t carry its normal lightness, energy.

  “And you’re the best—at what you do and for staying up this late. We couldn’t do any of this without you,” Logan assured her. “What can you tell us?”

  “Marnie is CEO of a company called Data Pro. It specializes in analyzing research data. Honestly, we would probably get along pretty well,” Val joked. “She has a genius IQ, went to Yale on a full scholarship. Parents dead. She’s never married. No kids. She seems like a fairly straight-laced sort of person—no record of any sort of crime, not even a speeding ticket. Just about as clean-cut as they come.”

  “CEO of her own company at that age?” Logan asked, and there was a great deal of respect in his voice.

  “She graduated college the age of nineteen,” Val explained. “Oh yes, it’s still impressive.”

  “Any stalking in her past?” Sledge asked, glancing at Logan. “No reports of her filing a complaint against anyone?”

  “Absolutely none. I couldn’t even find anything in the database over at Yale. And you know Hawk loves a challenge—he got me in there in no time.” They had yet to throw a challenge at Hawk that he couldn’t handle.

  “It could’ve been against the driver of the car,” Logan reasoned. “Someone could’ve been following them from wherever they came from. It didn’t have to be Marnie they were following.”

  “Odds are this didn’t have anything to do with a personal grudge or a relationship gone wrong,” Val confided. “And I would bet my next paycheck that the girl driving the car was a coworker of Marnie Harris.”

  “What makes you say that?” Sledge asked. The certainty in her voice sent goosebumps rising along the back of his neck.

  “Because two members of Marnie’s company died in the last two weeks. I haven’t found much information on the circumstances yet, but a quick search on her company’s name brings them up right away. They were high-level executives, not just peons working in a cubicle. I’d bet this dead girl had a pretty substantial role in the company.”

  Sledge exchanged a look with his boss and friend. Logan’s expression was stormy. Sledge could only imagine his was the same, if not worse. The wolf howled in his head, more certain than ever that justice must be meted out after this.

  “Thanks for everything you’ve done so far,” Logan muttered. Someone who didn’t know him would assume he was angry—in fact, a passing nurse flinched away from the tension in his voice. “Go home and get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

  “You know I won’t argue with that,” Val yawned again before ending the call.

  “Someone deliberately tried to run them off the road,” Sledge growled.

  “Someone with a connection to their company,” Logan added. “Just our luck, running into them when something like this was happening.”

  Yes. Just their luck.

  But what if it wasn’t luck? Was there something bigger at play? Sledge had no idea exactly how the magic behind their shifter abilities worked—none of them did, really, all of them flung into this new way of living without warning, without instruction.

  Had something brought them together? Something that knew Marnie would need them?

  Would need him?

  Chapter Four

  It was a nightmare. At first, she thought she was dreaming, didn’t she? When she was unconscious after being brought to the hospital, she thought it was a dream, that she was dreaming about floating.

  Now, she wished she was dreaming because, certainly, none of this could be real. She couldn’t have lost Beth.

  Even now with that sedative—whatever it was—coursing through her system, her pain was acute. Sure, she wasn’t screaming and thrashing around, but the pain inside was just as real, just as vivid.

  And just like before, her mind refused to believe this was true.

  Beth. Not Beth. Her big sister, her best friend, her guardian angel through four years of college.

  The first day of freshman year came back as vivid as anything. She was only fifteen years old, a baby compared to seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds who’d graduated high school at the so-called normal age.

  Best of all, there had been a mix-up, and nobody had told Beth that her roommate would be three years younger than her. Instead of isolating
her, treating her like a child, Beth had immediately taken this young stranger under her wing and become everything Marnie had lacked for so long. She was like a second mother at times, guiding a motherless girl through some of the most challenging times of her life.

  Now with the two of them on more even footing, they had truly been best friends, challenging each other just as they had back in the day when they used to see who could get the better score on an exam or who could run a faster mile—like a pair of competitive sisters, always pushing each other to be better, to do their absolute best.

  It occurred to Marnie, lying in that bed in the emergency room, that she didn’t know who she was without having someone to push her. It had been Beth for so long, even in business, pushing Marnie to make the best decisions, challenging her to come up with creative solutions to what seemed like insurmountable challenges.

  Who was she now without the driving force of her life? It wasn’t as if she wasn’t a self-starter—she wouldn’t have graduated high school in two years if she wasn’t and certainly not with a full scholarship. It was just that she’d come to rely on the person who felt like the other side of her brain.

  She wrapped her arms around herself as best she could with an IV in one of them, trembling all over. What was she supposed to do now? How was she supposed to go on?

  So many images overlapped in her head, each more painful than the next. All the work they’d put into the company, the two of them. Beth was COO, Marnie CEO, though they’d always considered each other co-owners. After all, Beth had helped Marnie put together her senior project, the project the company was based on. It had only seemed right for Beth to play a big role in the final product.

  It should’ve been Marnie behind the wheel. At least, it was supposed to be. She would’ve been the one to die. What was so special about her that she managed to survive when Beth—good, generous, understanding Beth—had been the one to die?

  Was it possible to drown in tears? If so, Marnie had a feeling she would join her best friend soon enough. She wanted to; that was the worst part. She wanted to die because that had to be easier than living with this pain. How was she supposed to survive this? She could barely handle it while sedated.

  She had watched her mother die a terrible, painful death. Even that had been different than this since by the end it was a relief knowing the pain had ended, knowing there would be no more suffering. If anything, she’d wished the end had come sooner for her mother. No one deserved to suffer that way—not just the physical pain but the many indignities: losing control of her bodily functions, going in and out of awareness throughout the day. No one deserved to suffer like that. No one.

  Had Beth suffered? God, that would make it so much worse. What if she had? What if she’d known the end was coming, and she’d been in pain, afraid? And there was Marnie, sitting next to her, completely useless, unable to offer her best friend comfort, to tell her she loved her and that she wouldn’t be half the person she was if it wasn’t for Beth’s presence in her life.

  She hadn’t even been able to tell her there was nothing to be afraid of, that everything would be all right. Sure, it would’ve been a lie, but it might’ve offered her a little bit of comfort in the end.

  The worst part of all, the very worst part, even worse than the guilt, was not having anyone to talk to about this. She was all alone in her own head with no one around to understand.

  When the curtain opened, she was hopeful for a moment. Maybe somebody could give her some answers, could help her understand some of what had happened.

  She recognized the uniform as soon as she saw it, but her heart sank. She didn’t need the police, not just then. She needed a friend. Someone who would help her piece this together.

  “Do you know how this happened? Do you know what made Beth drive off the road?” she whispered, still somewhat numb from the sedative coursing through her system.

  The cop removed his hat, clearing his throat. “Ms. Harris, I have some questions for you.”

  “You can call me Marnie,” she replied, a knee-jerk reaction.

  “Marnie.” He was a young man, one who looked too young to shave. If anything, this warmed her up to him. She knew what it was like to be too young, for people to not take her seriously just because of her age or how she looked.

  He took a seat in the only chair available, then pulled out a notepad. So, the police were still using notepads for this sort of thing. Antiquated technology. But what were they supposed to do in the middle of an ER? It wasn’t like they were dragging laptops around with them.

  “What can I help you with?” she asked. Funny how she could at least sound like she had it all together when really she felt fear deeper than any she’d ever known—not to mention confusion and that deep ache in her heart that she feared would never go away.

  He cleared his throat again. It was so obvious that he was uncomfortable. This made her feel for him again, though considering what she’d just been through she guessed she was the one worthy of sympathy. “Where were you coming from?”

  “Beth and I had gone out to dinner. A little place called Luigi’s, sort of out of the way.” She gave him the address, which he took note of.

  “Was it just the two of you?”

  She nodded. “Yes, just us.”

  “Did you meet up with anyone before or after your meal?”

  She shook her head. “No, it was just us. We wanted dinner, and we wanted to be someplace quiet.”

  “Were the two of you in a relationship?”

  It took her by surprise for a second, before she realized that was probably how it sounded. “No, not like that. We were very good friends. College roommates. She was the COO of the company. I’m the CEO. We founded it together. That’s all.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured, continuing to make notes. He didn’t even look up when he said it, though she sensed he meant it. Not that it mattered either way.

  “Thank you. Do you have any idea who did this?” He glanced up, his brow furrowed, and she continued. “I know I’ve asked you that before, but I have to know. Do you have any idea?”

  “To be honest with you, Marnie, we’re at a loss. There were skid marks from the road into the wooded area where the car crashed, but there’s no evidence of anything else. Why did Beth veer off the road?”

  Marnie winced. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not completely aware.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I was asleep. I fell asleep. She was driving because I’d had too much wine—which for me is, like, two glasses. It made me sleepy. I wouldn’t have driven anyway, of course, even if I wasn’t sleepy.” She was babbling, and she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to make her mouth stop moving.

  Babblers sounded guilty. She knew that, and knowing it burned inside her skull. But what could she have to be guilty of?

  “I do remember some of the end,” she continued, the words tumbling out. “Beth shrieked. That was what woke me up. I didn’t know what was happening. My brain couldn’t catch up. And then we hit something, and everything went dark. I never had time to process what was going on.”

  “But she did cry out?”

  “Yes. She did.” And Marnie would hear it in her head the rest of her life. She just knew it. It was the sort of sound a person didn’t simply forget. Bloodcurdling, desperate, despairing.

  “And you remember nothing after that?”

  She shook herself free of that shriek. “As I said, I lost consciousness. The next thing I remember, I was here in the hospital.”

  He ran a hand over his sandy blonde hair and sighed. “I have to tell you, Ms. Harris, I don’t know if there’s any chance of ever finding out what happened. There’s no evidence of there being in a car on the road and no evidence of a dead or wounded animal.”

  He then fixed her with a shrewd look that seemed completely incompatible with the youthful, sympathetic vibe he’d been giving off up to that point. “Is it true that two members of your company died i
n the last two weeks?”

  Her impulse was to say yes, that was true, and she suspected everything might be connected.

  Instinct told her otherwise, and her instincts were never wrong about things like this. All she did was nod, silent. Let him do the talking. It was his job, after all.

  “Did either you or Miss Chambers receive any sort of threats over the last weeks?”

  She shook her head. “At least, I didn’t. I wouldn’t know about Beth, but I would think she’d come straight to me with anything.

  “You’re certain about that?”

  “No, I’m not certain of anything! I’m sorry,” she added when he reeled back in surprise. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful, but how would I know for sure? I can only tell you what I know is true. Beth and I trusted each other with everything. I would expect her to tell me something like that, just like I would tell her. We were best friends. She was like a sister to me. And I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you exactly what she was thinking or doing in the car—I mean, it’s not like I can ask her what happened before she veered off the road, can I?”

  She didn’t realize until then that she was crying, sloppy tears rolling down her cheeks as her nose ran.

  Without warning, the curtain flew open, and she would never have imagined coming face-to-face with the person who stood at the foot of her bed. He was impossibly tall and even more impossibly broad-shouldered. He had biceps like bowling balls even when they weren’t flexed and a barrel chest. His dark eyes flashed with anger as he stared at the cop down.

  “What are you saying to her in here?” he demanded. He was a perfect stranger. She’d never seen him before in her life although the way he talked about her made him sound like old friends or even more than that.

  The cop jumped to his feet. “And who are you?” he demanded. Not a bad question.

  “I asked you first. What are you saying to her? Don’t you know what she’s been through?” He turned his attention to her, and instantly, the anger left his eyes. He was concerned, sympathetic.