Wolf Shield Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  He nearly choked on a mouthful of fried potatoes. “Sorry,” she snickered as he struggled to clear his airway.

  “Anyway,” he continued, a little red-faced. “It couldn’t have been easy for her either.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t,” she allowed, looking down at her food. “I wish I could’ve had the chance to talk about it with her. You know? As an adult. I wish she could’ve told me her side of things. We never had that chance. It still sticks with me. I hate that I never got to talk it over with her.”

  “That’s really tough,” he agreed, even as he wondered just what the woman did to make her so indispensable. Had Aimee ever wondered whether there was more to the situation than her mother had let on? As an adult, she must have.

  She didn’t seem to care much just then, eating her breakfast. He decided to let it go for the time being in favor of letting her be the person she wanted to be then: carefree, listening to oldies, pretending to be a normal person.

  The way he pretended every day.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Well?”

  Aimee continued to study the pieces in front of her, moving step-by-step in her head. “If you interrupt me one more time, I swear to God.”

  “You’re taking forever. I might as well take a nap between turns.”

  “You’re right. You might as well take a nap since I’m going to destroy you.”

  “Cute.”

  “Stop distracting me,” she warned again, fingers tented under her chin. It had been such a long time since she’d played chess, and her head seemed to be full of cobwebs and cotton. She was having a hard time planning her next attack, and his voice ringing in her ears wasn’t helping.

  “You know, I was in a chess tournament once when I was a kid.”

  “Were you really?” she asked, vague and not caring very much.

  “Like I said, my parents were all for cerebral pursuits. Other kids went out for baseball, soccer, basketball. They wanted us to be on the chess team, the debate team.”

  “Did you ever play sports?” she asked, glancing at him. It seemed like somebody with his physique would be a natural.

  “One season of baseball.” He held up a single finger, grinning.

  “What happened? You didn’t like it?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Come on.” She finally pulled her entire attention away from the board, looking at him. “What happened? You can tell me.”

  She expected this story to be embarrassing. Maybe he’d dropped a catch in a pivotal moment, or he’d missed the cut off throw. Maybe the whole team had booed him after striking out.

  “I hated playing sports in front of people.” He raised his thick shoulders, chuckling self-deprecatingly. “It’s as simple as that. It was too much pressure.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I am not kidding,” he assured her. “Everybody feels this way about one thing or another. Public speaking, that sort of thing. When so many people are looking at you all at once and you have to perform well, it’s a lot of pressure on a kid. If we were just playing for fun, like the kids in the neighborhood playing at the park, I’d have a great time. When there were actual stakes involved, it was a different story.”

  “I never liked sports very much anyway,” she told him, hoping it might help somehow. “I was never very coordinated. I used to hate gym class so much.”

  “But you stayed fit anyway.” He looked her up and down, and there was no mistaking that note of approval in his gaze, in his voice.

  It sent a tingle down her spine, but she pretended not to be affected. “So did you,” she observed, looking him up and down the way he had done to her. “That waitress at the diner sure thought so.”

  He burst out laughing, and she laughed with him. While it would’ve been fun to indulge herself in flirting with him, and maybe much more, that wasn’t what they were there for. Sure, every ounce of her being wanted nothing more than to fall into bed with him—after he’d turned his phone off, obviously, so they wouldn’t be interrupted again.

  Instinct told her what a mistake that would be. They couldn’t lose sight of why she was there.

  She finally made her move, taking her bishop diagonally across half the board to capture one of his knights. She held her breath, waiting to see what he would do.

  While she was a very thoughtful, methodical player, Zane tended to forge ahead, confident. He smiled like she’d fallen into a trap, capturing her bishop with one swift move from his queen. “I thought you would do that,” he grinned, placing her bishop on the table beside the other pieces he’d captured.

  “Did you? I thought you would do that, too.” She moved her rook, overtaking the queen.

  “Hey!” he gasped, his eyes darting back and forth over the board. “Where did that come from?”

  She tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smile as she touched her finger to the square in which her rook had been waiting to attack. “Right here,” she teased. “He wasn’t hiding. And now I have your queen, and you didn’t set me up with a deliberate sacrifice. Don’t even pretend you did.”

  He muttered a curse under his breath, his chin on his palms as he reassessed his situation. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “Hey, it’s okay,” she smiled. “It’s been a long time since that chess tournament.”

  “Very funny,” he growled.

  “What? Did you think I would be a pushover? That this would be an easy win?”

  “Be quiet. I’m trying to concentrate.”

  She laughed, falling back against the sofa. It occurred to her then that she hadn’t laughed like this in such a long time. How much of her life had been spent without laughter? It was enough to make the sound die in her throat.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, jumping on her sudden shift. He seemed so completely in tune with her like he picked up on every little change in her emotions. What did it mean? Was he just that empathetic? Or did it speak to something special between them?

  She told herself not to look too far into it, that it would only end badly if she assigned some special significance to his empathy. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if she convinced herself something existed between them that wasn’t truly there.

  “Nothing,” she assured him, shaking her head. “It’s just that I’m having a nice time.”

  He blinked, waiting for more. “And?” he prompted.

  “That’s it. I just noticed what a good time I’m having. So what?”

  “You make it sound like that’s a problem.”

  She looked around the room, taking everything in at once. The beautiful furnishings, the peaceful, quaint effect. “It’s just that I don’t belong here, and I guess I’m afraid of getting too comfortable.”

  “Why do you keep saying things like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “You keep talking about places and saying you don’t belong there or like you’re not a normal person or a regular person. You’ve said it more than once. You said something like that back at the diner, even. What gives?”

  She sat back, staring at him in surprise. “I thought you of all people would understand.”

  “What makes you think I would understand?” A tightness had crept back into his voice that she hadn’t heard in a while like he was reverting back to the person he’d been when they first met—closing himself off, watching her warily. Like he didn’t trust her all of a sudden, like he thought there was more to what she was saying then met the eye.

  “What do you think? Because you understand the sort of life I lead. You don’t exactly exist in the mainstream, either. You fly under the radar. Just like me.”

  “For different reasons,” he pointed out.

  “No kidding,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Yes, because I’m the big, bad wolf. The assassin. You’re one of the good guys, and I was the bad guy. Isn’t that how you talk about things like this? Good guys versus bad guys?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He scrubbed his
fingers through his hair until it stood up in all directions. She couldn’t even bring herself to giggle at how silly he looked—she wasn’t the mood anymore.

  He got up, unfolding his tall frame until he was standing, towering over the table and the board. He glowered down at her, and she remembered—maybe too late for her own good—that he was a very powerful, very dangerous man. Even if he could be silly and playful and sexy and comforting, that streak of danger never went away. It was never far from the surface.

  “Why are you so angry all of a sudden?” she asked, willing herself not to show how this sudden change in demeanor shook her—because it did shake her, to her core. She never knew what to expect from him from one minute to the next, and she guessed that under other circumstances that might be exciting. Thrilling. Sexy.

  Right now? In a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, with no phone and no way of getting around? He scared her, point-blank.

  He shook his head, blinking hard. “I’m not angry,” he grunted, turning toward the fireplace. She watched the muscles of his shoulders and back bunch and ripple, reminding her of the power in his body—power he might decide to use against her. It was like handling dynamite, spending time alone with him, and she was so good at forgetting how dangerous that dynamite could be.

  “I didn’t mean to insult you, if that’s the problem.”

  He shook his head, still facing away from her. “You didn’t insult me,” he muttered. “It didn’t have to do with you, not really. You just threw me off. I’m sorry, but there are still things about me you don’t know. I spent a lot of years trying to keep those things quiet. Secret. Whenever you talk like that, it sets off a reaction in me. I’m afraid you know more than you’re supposed to know.”

  “I don’t know any more than what you told me.”

  “I know that—still.” He turned his head slightly, catching her out of the corner of his eye. The side of his mouth visible to her quirked up in a smirk. “Old habits die hard, especially when your habits are years old and especially when they developed as a way to protect yourself.”

  She wondered if the time would come when he could trust her enough to tell her everything he’d seen, what he had to escape from. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t imagine what it might be. Were they chained up? In a cell? If so, why?

  She went back over the members of his team in her head, trying to imagine any of them involved in espionage or something equally dangerous. Something that might inspire others to lock them away for some reason. Maybe they were spies? Maybe they learned things they weren’t supposed to have learned? Maybe they’d tried to sell secrets to the enemy.

  No, they didn’t strike her as the type to do that. They were honorable men, all of them. Even somebody as jaded as she was could see how honorable they were.

  Then, she remembered what he’d said before so rudely pushing past her on his way to the bathroom earlier. He reminded her how he kept his family away to keep them safe. Did he mean he didn’t want to tell her because it would put her in greater jeopardy? And just what did that mean for them, for the way he felt about her? What was he really trying to say?

  His phone rang before she could ask, and she found herself wishing he would turn the damn thing off. He picked up, frowning a little. “It’s Val,” he muttered before answering.

  Val was just as loud over the phone as she was in person. Aimee liked that about her—she had a lot of energy, a big personality, and she wasn’t afraid to take up space or make a lot of noise. “I need to talk to Aimee,” she announced loudly.

  Aimee pointed to herself, eyes wide. “Me?” She mouthed, bewildered.

  “What’s this about?” Zane asked, never taking his eyes from her. He looked troubled, which made two of them.

  “I have to ask her something.” She was stubborn. Aimee liked that about her, too. She wasn’t about to break down and admit something she didn’t want to admit just because a man told her to. Good for her.

  Zane handed the phone over with a shrug. “This is Aimee,” she announced, holding it to her ear.

  “Hi,” Val chirped. But she wasn’t really feeling so sunny or friendly—that was clear from the beginning. There was a nervous edge to her. “Listen, we’ve got some information here. I wanted to run it past you. I tried to reach out to Logan to see if he thought it would be all right for you to come in, actually.”

  Aimee’s palms went slick. What could be that important? “Okay…” she murmured, looking up at Zane. He must’ve heard what Val had said since his brow lowered to the point where she could barely see his eyes, and what she could see flashed dangerously.

  “Did Zane tell you about the hacking?”

  “Something about it,” Aimee sighed. “That so tough. I’m sorry. I’m sorry it happened while you were with me. I feel really bad about it—”

  “I’m not bringing it up to blame you. It’s not your fault. Nobody thinks that. The thing is there are some extra files on our server now. They weren’t there before. And they have to do with you.”

  She gripped the phone harder, afraid of dropping it now that her hands shook. “Me? What are they?”

  “Some of it is photos of you—nothing bad, nothing scandalous, just the kind of thing somebody would take on the street,” Val assured her when she gasped. “And the rest is about your mom.”

  “Mom?” She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, harder and faster and louder all the time. “What’s she have to do with anything?”

  “I really don’t know. I was hoping that if you came in, you might be able to tell us.”

  “Absolutely not,” Zane growled, sitting on the sofa near where she sat on the floor, leaning against it.

  “Do me a favor and tell him that if Logan thinks it’s all right, it’s all right,” Val snapped. “It’s not his call. No offense.”

  She didn’t have to relay the message since Zane clearly heard every word from where he sat, and his expression told her how he felt about it.

  It looked like she might get to see where Wolf Shield conducted its business. Lucky her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Have you ever ridden one of these before?”

  Aimee stood back, admiring the motorcycle once he pulled away the tarp that normally covered it. He had to admit it was a thing of beauty, black and silver chrome shining. He rarely rode it, rarely had a reason to, but now was not the time to be traveling to headquarters in a truck with plates that might already be on record with a certain murderous agency.

  “Me? Sure. But I’ve never been a passenger.”

  “You will be now,” he assured her with a snicker, tossing a helmet her way. “Nobody drives this baby but me.”

  “Point taken,” she snickered, before pulling the black helmet over her head. She flipped up the visor while fastening the chinstrap. He had to admit she even looked good wearing a helmet. He guessed she would look good wearing just about anything.

  Or nothing at all.

  In spite of the tension, the importance of their trip, he couldn’t ignore the thrill that came with throwing a leg over the saddle and settling in. It had been too long since he’d been on the open road, wind rushing past as he cruised down the highway. That feeling of freedom was something he could never get enough of.

  He guessed it had something to do with the lack of freedom in the rest of his life. He couldn’t come and go as he pleased, couldn’t live like a so-called regular or normal person—the sort of person Aimee didn’t believe herself to be.

  She had no idea how much more normal she was than him. Wouldn’t she be surprised if she ever found out.

  The time for that would have to come if she was meant to be his mate, but this wasn’t that time. Not when there were some secret, strange files relating to her mother now magically sitting on Wolf Shield’s servers.

  How the hell had they gotten there? And who’d put them there?

  Only one way to find out, he guessed, the engine roaring to life while Aimee’s arms linked around
his waist. That was a good feeling, having her behind him, leaning against him just a little. She was relying on him to keep her safe, to get her where she needed to go, trusting him.

  There wasn’t so strong an aphrodisiac in the world; he was sure of it. Not for a man like him.

  He pulled out onto the road running past the farm with its unworked land. He’d have to figure out what to do with all that land someday. It seemed like there were countless things he planned to take care of someday. His farm, his relationship with his family. His personal life, which at that point was nonexistent. His future.

  Spending time at the farm with Aimee cast a lot of things in a different light. Even before then, at the safe house, he’d remembered the quiet simplicity of life, the way it could be under different circumstances, how nice it was to share a cup of coffee in the morning, the quiet companionship, watching a movie together, laughing at the same lines.

  Waking up next to a woman.

  He hadn’t realized until then, until her, how much was missing from his life. Sure, the heartiest plant could learn to grow in shade, could adapt itself to surviving on a little water, but it would never thrive. It would only just exist. For years, he had settled for just existing since it was a gift just to be alive at all. He could so easily have lost his life back there in that lab. They all could have.

  And they could have died a thousand times since then on their way home. The fact that they had survived and had continued to survive had carried him through.

  But it couldn’t do that forever, especially not now when he remembered there was so much more to life than survival.

  It was almost enough to make him wish she’d never come into his life at all because she would have to leave, eventually, and he would go back to barely existing, surviving.

  He revved the engine, sending the cycle screaming down the road. Aimee’s arms tightened, and he thought he heard her laughing. Of course, she would love this. Just a little bit of danger to spice things up. His wolf was glad, even proud.