Undercover Wolf

by Linda O. Johnston

  Not that he would have, anyway—not without some pretty heavy editing.

  He didn’t look at Kristine, still beside him at the table. Even so, he could see the way she clenched her paper coffee cup in her slender fingers. She probably wanted to lace them around his throat and strangle him. He’d do the same thing if their positions were reversed.

  He didn’t look forward to their upcoming discussion, but he’d done what was necessary, at least for now.

  He glanced idly toward Kelly, then Holt. Neither appeared upset by his attitude. They apparently didn’t think whatever he might find would be of use to them.

  But what Kelly said next made it clear Quinn’s assumption had been wrong.

  “Fair enough,” Kelly said. “Time for us to go. Oh, and incidentally, if you don’t want a federal warrant issued against you, you’d better stay out of our way.”

  Quinn was glad that Kristine remained silent as the two men rose then maneuvered their way among the busy tables to the door.

  “What was that all about?” she hissed then. “Why on earth did you blow our cover and tell them you’re a P.I.?”

  “Just playing the same game they are—for now.” He rose quickly. “Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “We’re going to reassume our nice, comfy honeymooner cover to the rest of the world and go outside to play tourists. Or that’s what I want those two asses to think. They’re playing games, and so are we.”

  She stood and followed him as he, too, exited the coffee shop. “I don’t—”

  “You don’t need to. Just figure what they’ll assume if they believe I’m a P.I. They’ll expect us to follow them, now that they’ve left.”

  “We are following them.” She sounded utterly exasperated. “Aren’t we?”

  “Yes, because we want to see where they lead us. It’ll be where they want us to go, not where they’re really heading. But that’ll tell us something, too.”

  They were outside in the sunlight now. The sidewalk was, as usual, crowded with tourists. He looked down at Kristine. Her gorgeous blue eyes radiated fury, and her chin was raised obstinately.

  He wanted to kiss her—to confuse her even more. Not to mention what it would do to him and his body that was already so highly aware of her presence.

  Later, he told himself. He’d been acting with admirable restraint around this sexy and frustrating woman. Maybe it was time to ease some of those aches. Soon.

  For now, he glanced around—and saw the backs of the two DSPA guys heading down the sidewalk toward the harbor.

  He surmised they ultimately intended to break away and head inland. Maybe back into the park.

  He grabbed Kristine’s hand and maneuvered them both through the crowd of tourists. They’d play these men’s game.

  For now.

  But they had no idea who they were really dealing with. Stalking prey was second nature to him—in either of his forms.

  * * *

  Kristine heard the perverse logic in Quinn’s words. She wanted to laugh at the same time she knew she should be snapping at him, giving him orders even though he held the superior military rank.

  Neither was acting like a soldier now anyway. That bothered her, but it was how things had to be at the moment, for them to succeed.

  But who—the two DSPA guys or them—held more information about the killings and the disappearance of Simon and Grace? Since Quinn and she had so little information, it was probably the others. It made sense, then, to let them think they were prevailing.

  Not that Quinn and she would let them.

  “Okay,” she said. “What do we do now?”

  “First, we wait till they discover the tiny tracking device I planted in our buddy Kelly’s pocket. They’re no doubt aware of it—particularly since I’ve already located the one they planted on me.”

  “What!” Kristine shoved her hands into her own jeans pockets. Finding nothing except the usual tissues and card key for their hotel room, she lifted her purse and examined the moderate-size brown leather bag. “Should I dump everything out?”

  “Soon,” he said. “Meantime, I’ll make use of my own secret weapon. My bro Simon isn’t the only creative one in our family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They aren’t shifters.” He stopped to let a mother holding the hands of two kids maneuver around them on the sidewalk, then grabbed Kristine’s hand again and pulled her forward after the two escaping men. “Neither reacted to what I also attached to them via the coffee cups they held. As a real P.I. before my oh-so-brief military days, I invented a cream that when touched, instills people with a scent that can’t be washed off for days—and that also can’t be picked up by other people without enhanced senses like shifters.”

  “Then you can smell where these guys are going?” Despite her sense of repugnance, Kristine was impressed.

  “As long as I stay on their trail, I can remain as much as a quarter of a mile behind and still sense them,” he acknowledged.

  “Even while you’re not shifted?”

  “I still have better senses than you ordinary humans,” he said. She knew he phrased it that way to goad her.

  But she just laughed.

  * * *

  Quinn loved it—the sound of her laugh. The light, carefree expression on her face. It was all he could do not to grab Kristine right there and kiss those full, smiling lips.

  But once again, he called up all the restraint he could muster. He had a scent trail to follow, and couldn’t let it get too distant. Right now, those guys expected them to follow. Later, it could become more of a challenge.

  But by that time, it might be nightfall—when it was easier to conceal a wild animal.

  Quinn intended to shift tonight to follow these guys.

  He needed more answers—ones that they might have.

  * * *

  It was fascinating, Kristine thought, to hang out with a werewolf in human form. Especially one with a mission.

  She’d thought so when she first joined Alpha Force, and the feeling had never waned.

  Now, Quinn and she ended up for a while at the Bar Harbor Historical Society Museum, in a charming old redbrick house. That was where the two men they tailed had headed. They knew that thanks to the tracking device Quinn had hidden on Kelly.

  Kelly and Holt left without it, though. Kristine saw them leave from one of the museum’s windows, while Quinn retrieved his tiny gadget from one of the displays where Kelly had apparently dumped it. The men must have determined they’d been followed far enough and decided to leave their trackers here.

  That wasn’t going to happen, though. Holding her hand, as he did so often on this assignment, Quinn led Kristine out of a different exit from the one the men had used. They hung back among the meandering crowds on the nearby sidewalks, in case their quarry spotted them, again indulging in their cover story as a happy sightseeing couple.

  All the while, though, Quinn was tracking the men his way. Kristine could tell, from the intense expression on his face, and the way his nose wrinkled periodically, that he was using his special senses to follow the scent trail he had created, which the two men now left behind for him as they continued walking through town.

  That way, Quinn and she could hang back and not be so obvious to them.

  It should have been a huge turn-off to Kristine, seeing a man act so wolfen and sniff the air that way—although he did act unobtrusive when he glanced up, as if studying their surroundings, toward rooftops or the sky, while capturing scents.

  But Quinn’s expressions looked strangely alluring. His intensity was even sexy. She couldn’t understand her own sexually heightened reactions...yet there they were anyhow.

  On Quinn’s okay, Kristine had checked her purse for another device. Fortunately, there wasn’t one.

  After nearly an hour of their cat-and-mouse game—rather, canine-and-prey—Kristine was interested to see that the men ended up at Harbor Heights, one of the most elite older ho
tels in the town. It was several stories high, painted white, lots of gables and towers.

  The valets outside wore formal black uniforms, and the well-dressed people they assisted into cabs seemed to tip generously, judging by the obsequiousness of the staff.

  The feds’ expense accounts must be generous, too, Kristine thought—no doubt thanks to the taxpayers.

  The guys went to the parking lot, though, rather than heading inside. There, they got into a black SUV and drove away.

  “Damn,” Quinn muttered.

  “Let’s see if we can find out if this is where they’re staying,” Kristine said.

  He smiled at her. “If so, they’ll be back.”

  They walked inside together as if they were staying there, and Kristine picked up a brochure from a table in the lobby. The hotel’s phone number was on it. Outside again, Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and called, asking for Mr. Kelly.

  “That’s his last name?” Kristine questioned.

  It was—or at least they had a Mr. Kelly staying there in the same room as a Mr. Holt. Unsurprisingly, neither answered the phone in their room.

  Fortunately, the place had a nice restaurant. Quinn led Kristine inside, asking the model-perfect hostess to seat them near the window facing the parking lot.

  Kristine hated to waste time here. But she understood Quinn’s intentions. So far, they hadn’t found any useful clues into what had happened to the mauled tourists, or where Grace and Simon might be.

  The feds, with their official assignment, might have more information. They weren’t sharing...at least not intentionally. But spending a day tailing them might be a lot more useful than spinning wheels trying to drum up leads in their frustrating investigation.

  Quinn and Kristine took their time in the restaurant, which was surprisingly crowded considering how late the afternoon had become. They ate from china plates on a pristine white tablecloth—a roast beef sandwich for Quinn, a salad for Kristine. The servers hovered and offered more coffee, water, condiments and whatever else they might want.

  The food was predictably good. The company was even better, despite how uneasy Kristine felt as they gazed into each other’s eyes. It was just part of their cover story, she kept reminding herself. He wasn’t really interested in her. His gold-tinged gaze wasn’t actually intended to tear her clothes off.

  Too bad... Or maybe it was a really good thing they were out in public this way.

  Eventually, they finished eating. Kristine wondered how much longer they could hang out at the table just sipping drinks. At least there wasn’t a line at the restaurant door.

  Then, there it was. The same black SUV pulled into the parking lot.

  Quinn saw it the same time she did. “Time for us to go.”

  * * *

  Quinn had Kristine keep an eye on their quarry as they passed through the lobby. There were plenty of people around, so she’d stay safe. There were also enough nooks and crannies for her to hide and not be spotted.

  She came outside a minute later. “They went up in the elevator,” she said, stopping beside him in the parking lot that was nearly filled with cars but almost devoid of people.

  “Good. I’ve planted another tracking device on their car now. One that’s hard to detect. We’ll know next time when they leave and be able to figure out where they go.”

  “Do you really think they know where Grace and Simon are, and that they’ll lead us there?”

  “I don’t know what they know,” he responded grimly, taking her hand again and pulling her swiftly away. He also didn’t know where their room was...yet. They might have a window through which they could observe this parking lot.

  “Whatever it is, though,” he continued, “I suspect it’s more than we’ve got. Maybe this’ll be another dead end, but we’ll at least have given it a try.”

  * * *

  Since the feds didn’t seem to be going anywhere just then, Kristine wasn’t surprised when Quinn suggested that they return to their original plan. So, once again, they walked back through town, entering tourist information sites, asking questions of both workers there and patrons about what things newlyweds should see—and, oh, by the way, had they met other newlyweds lately who praised one sight or another?

  Slow. Stupid. But without any hot leads, at least it was something.

  Too bad that the next full moon wouldn’t occur for a few weeks. At least then they’d have a better chance of finding Simon and Grace, since no matter what, they’d be shifting.

  Assuming they were still here...and also assuming they were still alive.

  Kristine and Quinn wandered around for another couple of hours looking lovey-dovey at one another and asking questions. Eventually, it was dusk. They discussed going to a local bar to continue their questioning. And then—

  “Hey,” Quinn said in a low voice, grabbing his smartphone from his pocket and looking at its screen. “Our guys? They’re on the move...and they’re heading into the park.”

  * * *

  Kristine and he had hurried back to their hotel. She’d grabbed her already filled backpack, and then they’d dashed back down to their rental car.

  The feds’ car was stopped somewhere within the park, probably close to where the tourists had been killed. Had they found something?

  Time to find out.

  Quinn drove back into the park via one of the main roads from Bar Harbor, heading toward the parking area where he believed the men had stopped—at the base of Cadillac Mountain.

  Unsurprisingly, their car was there. Not many others were, now that it was almost dark.

  A good time for him.

  He parked. “Got your backpack?” he asked Kristine.

  “Yeah, but are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “You mean, could it be some kind of trap? With luck, they won’t be suspecting a wolf even if it is. Either way, I’ll be careful.”

  She looked skeptical, but they both exited the car. No other people were in the parking lot—not even their prey. Together, Kristine and he walked off the paving and well into the wooded area.

  There, he got the vial of shifting tonic from her, then started removing his clothes.

  He hadn’t wanted to admit it to her, but he did feel a little uneasy this time. He didn’t even try to tease her with his naked body.

  Soon, he was ready. She regarded him grimly, without her usual discomfort about his nudity. “Be careful,” she said, then turned on the light.

  * * *

  On his four strong legs, he walked deeper into the forest, upward along the mountainside, muzzle in the air.

  Yes, he smelled the scent he had planted on the men he sought. It was not very strong here, so they must have gone even farther.

  The site where the tourists were killed was not far away, although it was on the other side of the same mountain. Perhaps that was their goal. Were they searching it from a different angle, hoping to find more leads about the beasts that had attacked?

  If so, they would indeed be hunting at least one beast, which might even have resembled him.

  He would be extra cautious.

  He moved slowly, slinking in the direction the scent led him, careful not to make any sounds that would reveal his presence.

  In this area, there were no trails for humans. The forest was pristine, untouched by people, smelling lush with undergrowth and trees, and the wildlife that actually lived here.

  He wished he could explore it more. But not now.

  No sounds of voices in the distance this time. The cops must not be there this night, awaiting wild animals that never came. What triggered their presence? Or had they simply stopped coming to the crime scene after their stalking had yielded nothing?

  The smell suddenly changed, grew stronger, as if the men were doubling back toward him and their vehicle. Just in case, he dashed behind a tree to watch. He saw them run by, in the direction of the parking lot.

  “Their car’s there,” shouted a voice. “Someone’s inside.
They followed us, like we figured. Now we’ll get them—and the truth!”

  Kristine!

  Quinn’s thin but strong wolf legs tightened as he began to run.

  Chapter 11

  Kristine noticed a movement at the edge of the parking lot. Quinn? What was he doing back here so soon?

  No—she saw the two feds emerge from the forest.

  That worried her. Where was Quinn? Was he all right? Had these two harmed him?

  Not much time had passed since Quinn had stalked off in wolf form to look for them. Even so...

  Grabbing her backpack again from the rear seat, she quickly exited the car to face them.

  The light here was dim, mostly from the gleaming but waning moon that hung above in the sky. Staying beside the front door on the passenger side, Kristine stood straight, watching as the men approached. She was very aware of the hooting of nearby owls and the skittering on the dried leaves on the forest floor of whatever rodents or other night creatures that might be there. No other noises, besides the men’s footsteps, interrupted the nighttime silence.

  No wolf howls, or even softer sounds that could be a canine on the prowl.

  “Hello, Mrs. Scott.” Kelly, dressed all in black from his long-sleeved sweater to his pants and low-topped boots, stopped only a few feet from her. His dark hair even appeared to be part of his nighttime disguise, although his skin was pale and he had used no makeup on his face or hands to enable him to blend fully into the darkness. Even so, of the two men, he was the taller, thinner—and more menacing.

  “Hello, Mr. Kelly,” she responded coolly. “Mr. Holt. What brings you to this part of Acadia in the middle of the night?”

  “The question should be what brings you here?” The tone of Holt’s voice suggested that his hostility was as vast as the forest looming around them. He wore dark clothes similar to Kelly’s and blended into the night even better with the deep tone of his skin.

  Kristine, too, had thrown on a charcoal jacket and dark jeans that she’d kept in the car, just in case. She had tucked her short black hair into an even darker knit cap. But she hadn’t anticipated having to hide—unless Quinn needed her to do something to help him avoid these men while in wolf form.