Wolf Shield Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  “You’re saying we can trust her?”

  Zane grimaced, glancing at the door again. “I’m saying there’s a decent chance she’s telling the truth. We don’t have to like her or make friendly with her, but she’s told the truth so far.”

  “That’s fine, but she needs to tell more. I refuse to believe she doesn’t know anything else outside of what she’s already shared.”

  “You’re starting to sound a lot like me.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. I was about to say the same thing about you.”

  They were getting nowhere. He decided to change topics. “Is everything all right there?”

  “About as all right as it can be. None of us is particularly glad to be one man short, but we’re managing.”

  Another grimace. “Hey, if any of you can come up with another way to go about this, I’d be more than happy. I’m the one stuck here in this house with her with no way of knowing how long this will last.”

  “You might want to practice something in your spare time,” Sledge suggested.

  “What’s that?”

  “How to sound convincing when you say things like that because I’m not convinced you’re completely upset about this—I don’t think your wolf is, either.”

  “What, you’re the expert now?”

  “I only know that something has changed about you. You were so uptight earlier, and now you’re Mr. Chill. What gives?”

  “I thought everybody would be glad that I finally calmed down.”

  “I’m just curious. It seems like a pretty big change overnight.”

  “I think I heard her moving around in there. I better go.” It was a lie, not even a very good one, but he had to end this conversation. It wasn’t exactly going in productive directions. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Okay.” Sledge didn’t sound like he believed anything he’d just heard, but he was willing to let it go. The sense of being patronized made Zane grit his teeth as he ended the call.

  As it turned out, when he opened the bedroom door a crack to peer inside, he found Aimee stirring. Her eyes were still closed, her body still curled around a pillow. Was it the way she always slept? If so, did she realize she was subconsciously protecting herself from something?

  At least she looked peaceful now, even though wakefulness was starting to tug at her sleepy brain. She’d slept in her regular clothes, of course—she didn’t have pajamas or anything like that, and he wondered if there was a way for them to get their hands on some. It didn’t make much sense for her to spend twenty-four hours a day wearing the same clothes any more than it made for him to do the same. At least he’d had a few things with him that he could bring along, having packed a bag to take to Marnie’s in the first place.

  Even though she wore her black T-shirt and black jeans—not exactly exciting or seductive—he couldn’t help but appreciate the firm but still generous curves of her body. She trained, trained hard. It came with the job. She had to be in excellent shape to do this sort of work. It wasn’t all about firing a gun or running another car off the road.

  She’d scaled the trellis pretty easily, hadn’t she?

  Her hair was a cloud against the white pillowcase, giving her skin an even creamier look than normal. Her forehead wrinkled a little, brows drawing together, before smoothing out again—he wondered if she was having a bad dream or if that was just a sign of her struggling to remain asleep.

  The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and he realized he wasn’t breathing.

  He had to get out of there. He closed the door as quietly as he could, going so far to lift it a little to keep the hinges from squeaking.

  What was he doing? This wasn’t a game. She wasn’t some lost, helpless little girl—and she wasn’t the woman a man let himself think too much about, not in that way. Not in the way he’d been thinking of her in those last moments, by the time her tongue moistened those plump lips and made them glisten.

  There was nothing to do, nothing to occupy his mind with, and he really did need to occupy it and the wolf, who couldn’t help but wonder what her lips tasted like, whether he could run his tongue along them too.

  She got out of bed—the squeaking of the springs brought his head around fast enough to nearly snap his neck. That was how it seemed, at least. Would she know what he’d been thinking about? Not if he wasn’t stupid enough to let her know, he guessed.

  Like there wasn’t enough for him to be careful of with this mission. Now he had to make sure not to get too turned on.

  He settled on making coffee, which he thanked God for the presence of in the fridge. By the time it had started to brew, the bedroom door opened, and a barefoot Aimee wandered into the room.

  “Good morning,” he smirked as he poured himself a cup. “Practically afternoon.”

  “Well, gee.” She pulled a cup from the cabinet and held it out. “When I fall asleep at six, I generally sleep this late. I didn’t know that was a sign of weakness.”

  Rather than ask what she thought she was waiting for, holding the cup out so expectantly, he poured some for her. “It’s not, though I’ve been up for hours.”

  “What do you want them to engrave on the medal you’re getting for that?” He couldn’t tell whether she was smiling as she raised the coffee to her lips but had the feeling she was. There was a playfulness in her eyes.

  A playfulness he realized he wanted to respond to, to engage with. The impulse to tease her was stronger than anything he’d felt since the shift took over that first time in the lab, the moment everything in his life had changed forever.

  Not since that moment and that certainty that he was now something… different had anything struck him as hard. Like a punch in the gut, almost enough to bend him in half.

  Wouldn’t it be something if they were only sharing a cup of coffee? With nothing more hanging in the balance? Maybe they’d discuss what they wanted to do with the day. Maybe it would involve nothing more than catching up on their favorite TV, ordering food.

  Wasn’t that the sort of thing couples did? People who lived together? He wouldn’t know.

  And this wasn’t the time to find out. He turned his back on her. “I hope you’re okay with being bored half to death,” he muttered, staring out the window at nothing more than the façade of a pleasant neighborhood. No kids to throw the basketball through the hoop. No gas in any of the cars sitting around in driveways, along curbs.

  He grinned before taking another gulp of coffee hot enough to burn his tongue. It would’ve been funny if she’d tried to steal one of those empty cars. The image of her trying in vain was almost enough to make him consider being a little laxer with her that night just to see what she’d try to pull on him.

  Just to laugh at her when she tried it.

  “I can amuse myself—and last time I looked, there’s a TV in the living room.”

  “There is,” he acknowledged, pouring a second cup. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to help him combat the battle being waged in his consciousness between himself and a certain wolf who had the feeling he could come up with a great many ways to entertain the woman behind him.

  “I… guess I’ll settle in for some binge-watching.”

  “I need a shower,” he announced, more loudly than necessary. “I’ll have to tie your wrists before I leave you alone.”

  Her sigh echoed. “Right. Can I finish my coffee, at least?”

  “I won’t be long,” he grunted, turning and brushing past her. “Come on. Sofa. You can turn on whatever you want, but then I’m binding you.”

  “Sure, sure. Fine.” She didn’t drag her feet at least, setting her cup down on the coffee table before picking up the remote. “Do we have cable, at least?”

  “We have just about every channel known to man. You’ll find something.”

  She went straight to the classic movie channel and set down the remote, sitting on the edge of the sofa with her wrists behind her. “Okay. Let’s get it over with.”

&n
bsp; He rested one knee on the sofa, leaving the other foot on the floor, before wrapping the rope around her wrists in one loop after another. “What movie’s playing?” he asked, eager to distract himself from the rising tide of lust at being so close to her.

  She was completely his. His to do with as he wanted. Once he finished securing her, she’d be at his mercy.

  Her pulse jumped. He could see it in her throat, beating wildly. Each beat caused the scent of her warmed skin to reach him in wave after wave. It was almost enough to blind him, that scent. Her warmth. Jesus, what was happening?

  He fell back a little, making her look his way in surprise. “You okay?”

  “I… think so,” he grunted before finishing the knot to complete his task.

  “You should’ve gotten more sleep,” she sighed. “Hey. If you wanna take a nap or whatever, be my guest. Just make sure I don’t have to pee or anything before you decide to leave me tied up on my own.”

  He frowned at the idea. “You’re being very generous.”

  She frowned right back. “Sorry. I thought I’d be nice for a minute. If you wanna pass out from lack of sleep, be my guest. Just don’t leave me like this.” She wiggled her arms around to remind him how helpless she was.

  And instead of imparting the seriousness of the situation, that simple motion and the reminder it conveyed only got his blood pumping harder than it had before. Much harder.

  “You don’t have to worry about it,” he promised before practically running up the stairs. Anything to be away from her.

  A nice, icy shower was just what he needed. It might be enough to remind his snarling, panting wolf who was in charge.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Which movie is this, now?”

  Aimee looked over at him from her spot on the sofa. He’d been decent enough to untie her when he came down from his shower—still conscious, thank God. She wasn’t kidding when she’d pointed out how helpless she was, tied up that way.

  Those few minutes he’d spent showering had been some of the most difficult she could remember. What if something happened to him up there? What if he slipped and fell? Hit his head? Bled out all over the tile?

  What if an electrical appliance fell into the tub?

  The thought had brought tears to her eyes, even though she hadn’t been the one to do that. It wasn’t she who’d tossed the razor into the tub while that poor guy was taking a shower.

  No, but she’d snickered, grinning a little when she’d learned about it. She’d even appreciated Price’s ingenuity, coming up with something like that. One of those stupid things that happened to people all the time without the accident making the news.

  It would be just her luck, wouldn’t it? If Zane had died the same way? If he left her tied up on the sofa, watching an old movie until she died?

  Granted, he hadn’t tied her ankles, and she might be able to work her way out of the bindings with a little time and focus. Once the initial panic had passed—and it would, she knew how to control panic thanks to years of practice—she’d manage just fine.

  Still. When he’d turned off the water, she’d smiled to herself. When his footfalls had first rung out on the stairs, she’d breathed easier.

  Sadly, when he’d come into view—shirt clinging to his still-damp skin, his hair wet and combed through by his fingers, freshly shaved—she’d stopped breathing again because, God, he was beautiful.

  The effect had worn off quickly enough. Now, he was reading messages on his phone while she stretched out on the sofa, clutching a pillow in front of her.

  He looked up from his phone to find her still staring at him. “Well?”

  “Hmm?” she murmured, confused.

  “I asked which movie this is.” He glanced at the TV, then back to her.

  “Oh. I don’t know, actually.”

  “But it’s on. You’re not paying attention?”

  “I am, but that doesn’t mean I know which movie it is. I’ve never seen it before.”

  “You just lie there watching a movie without knowing what it is?”

  “So what?” She pushed herself up on one elbow, almost laughing. “You’ve never done that?”

  “No,” he scoffed.

  “Let me guess. You need to have read at least five glowing reviews of a movie before spending even a minute of your time watching it. Right?”

  “No,” he scoffed again. “Only two or three reviews.”

  Something about his deadpan delivery surprised her enough to make her laugh. She hated herself for it at first, cutting off the sound by clamping her mouth shut and covering it with one hand. But that was no use—besides, it made her look childish.

  He chuckled. “I don’t actually watch a ton of TV.”

  “Not even when you were a kid?”

  “Not even then. TV was a treat, you know? If we did all our homework with time to spare—you know, before we had to go to bed—we could watch a half-hour, maybe. Rules were looser on the weekend, but even then, we had to have our chores done and weren’t allowed to hang around the house during the day unless the weather was really miserable.”

  “And then you could watch?”

  “No,” he smiled. “We could read. That was the first option, always.”

  “What did your parents do for a living?” she asked, really interested now. “Were they teachers?”

  “Professors,” he corrected, and they both chuckled. “Yeah, TV was the devil. Maybe it’s not like that for all people in their profession, but that’s how they saw it. It would rot our brains. Kids in school would talk about the videos they saw on MTV—back when they played videos, anyway. Or their favorite shows, or sports or whatever. Most of the time, I had nothing to say.”

  “Did you feel like an outsider?”

  “What do you think?” He shrugged. “It was a long time ago, and I didn’t turn out too badly.”

  “No. Not too badly. Not too great, either.”

  He rolled his eyes but let this go. “What about you?”

  “Me?” She snickered, rolling her eyes. “I watched a lot of TV. Probably way too much.”

  “TV was your babysitter? No judgment,” he was quick to add. “I used to be so jealous of kids who got to go home after school and flip on the TV without getting yelled at.”

  “And I used to be jealous of kids who had parents at home to yell at them,” she confessed before wishing she hadn’t said anything. Was this what he wanted? To get her to talk about herself?

  She sighed, lowering herself to the pillows. Did it really matter? Really, really? Was it a crime for her to share anything? How could he use it against her? There was no way—at least, that was what she told herself. It was what she needed to believe.

  “You didn’t have parents at home?” His voice was even, low. Not too eager but not overly casual either. He probably guessed she’d see right through him if he tried too hard.

  “Not really. Not most of the time.”

  “Was it just you?”

  “Yeah. Just me.”

  “Parents worked a lot?”

  “Mom did. Dad?” She looked his way, shrugging. “Who knows? I never met him.”

  “You had to grow up fast.”

  “You’re a real genius.”

  “I’m not analyzing you if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she muttered, staring at the TV. “And yes, you’re analyzing me. It’s what you do. It’s part of what you do for your job. You’re not just into the physical protection business, though it’s a lot of what the job includes. You get into the brains of the people you’re tracking too. Right? Terrorists, blackmailers, kidnappers, stalkers. All of it.”

  “How do you know so much about us?”

  She managed a faint smile. “You have your job to do. I have mine.”

  “No. You don’t get to do that.” He leaned forward in his chair, practically hanging off it. They were only a few feet away from each other now. She didn’t know whether to move to the ot
her side of the couch or lean toward him, closer.

  So she stayed where she was, frozen in place. Only her head moved as she swung her face in his direction. “They gave me information. Basics. You’re all ex-military. You’ve been pretty active lately among the underground. You busted up a terrorism ring six months ago, saved a little girl from kidnappers weeks back. People talk. Don’t think you go unnoticed.”

  “Is that supposed to scare me?”

  “No—if anything, I remember thinking how much I’d rather be working with people like you than with the people I got roped in with.” It was a lot to admit, but it was the truth, just like everything else she’d shared.

  And it felt good. She hated how good it felt to open up, to release what she’d been holding inside for so long. It was heavy work, carrying so much around for so many years. So many secrets, so much shame.

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Work with you?”

  “Or people like us. The ones on the good side.”

  “Remember,” she whispered. “Perspective. You’re not on the good side as far as everybody’s concerned.”

  “And what about you?”

  “Me?”

  “What about your perspective? How do you feel about it?”

  She shrank back a little away from him, the warmth of him, the probing eyes. “I try not to feel anything about it.”

  “But you can’t help it. Which is why you looked into Marnie’s life. Because a person can’t cut themselves off from feeling everything, all the time. You’re only human.”

  “Spare yourself the effort of shrinking me,” she advised with a sad smile. “It’s pretty obvious that’s what you’re trying to do.”

  She nodded to the TV. “Television wasn’t my babysitter. It was my friend. My only friend. I used to envy kids whose parents told them to not watch so much because it meant they had parents at home who cared what they did.”