Enforcer: Reckless Desires (Wolf Shifter Romance) (Alpha Protectors Book 4)

by Arran,Olivia

  A shifter who couldn’t claim his mate. No, not couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  I should leave. Go home, back to the team. Pick up another assignment, one preferably involving fists and smashing things up this time.

  Something pricked at the edges of my mind, piercing through the haze of self-loathing.

  She hadn’t answered my question.

  Who?

  She wasn’t angry; she was scared.

  My feet were moving before my mind caught up, pounding down the corridor. Slamming into the stairwell, I vaulted the railing, skidding around the corner and hitting the steps with grim determination.

  A maid flattened herself against the wall with a gasp, her eyes rounding at the sight of me barreling toward her.

  Another floor, then another flew past, blurring as I raced the pounding of my heart.

  I burst into the hotel foyer, scanning the small crowd for a jet black ponytail. She was tall, so she wouldn’t find it easy to blend in.

  Maid’s uniform. Dismissing the guests, I zeroed in on the staff. Nope, nope, nope … dammit! Where is she?

  My heart sank. She’d gone.

  “Sir, can I help you?” A man dressed in hotel colors approached me, a wary expression on his face.

  Fighting back the urge to growl at him, I glanced around, checking one last time.

  People were staring at me, whispering in low voices I had no trouble overhearing.

  …Is he mad? …With a body like that, why not? …I wonder if he’s single? …What happened to his face? …Is he going to hurt us?

  I was still wearing the fucking towel—and nothing else. I was a shifter, we didn’t think anything of walking around naked. I grunted, giving them a look of contempt. They should count themselves lucky it hadn’t fallen off mid-chase.

  Not deigning to answer, I turned around and stalked back up to my room, my mind racing to compile every fact I knew about Frankie.

  Turned out, it wasn’t much. I wasn’t even sure if Frankie was her real name. I didn’t know where she lived, or even what city she called home. For all I knew, she could live right here.

  Why not? I did.

  Ten minutes later I headed back down to the foyer, this time fully dressed. I couldn’t face going home, my feet heading in the opposite direction as if pulled by an unseen force.

  I knew where they were taking me, where they took me when I completed an assignment. Every time I felt myself swerving off the path I’d put myself on.

  I was going to the graveyard.

  Brushing the film of dirt off the black marble, I laid the flowers down next to the headstone, clearing away the dried and mangled remains of my previous offering. They weren’t anything special, just a bunch I’d picked up at a gas station, and probably wouldn’t last more than a couple of days, tops, but they looked nice. Cheered the place up a bit.

  Holly would have liked them. She’d had a thing for flowers, always nagging me to bring home a bunch to brighten up the house.

  Slumping down onto the hard ground, I leaned back against the headstone, assuming my usual position.

  “I haven’t been by lately. I’m sorry,” I whispered, picking at the dried leaves and crumbling them between my fingers.

  She didn’t answer. She never did. But every single time I waited to hear her voice in my head, or to see her appear in front of me.

  I was still waiting.

  “I did another job. I know you’d hate me doing them.”

  Back when Holly had been alive I’d been SWAT. She’d been human, and had wanted to stay in the human world, so I’d found a job in her world that I didn’t hate. It was okay, the guys were fine, and I’d gotten used to the merry-go-round of beer and barbecues we constantly seemed to go to.

  Though she’d never been happy with me going out on assignment, always worrying about me getting hurt, or some shit. Never mind the fact that she knew I was a shifter. She chose to block out that part of me, not really acknowledging it.

  I pulled off another disintegrating leaf, flicking it into the air. “He was a really bad guy though. He deserved it.”

  I tried to imagine her reaction, how she would have pouted and flicked back the long length of her honey-blonde hair, disapproval marring her beautiful face.

  What’s wrong with being an accountant? Or a sales manager? Or a fitness coach?

  Nothing. But I wasn’t built that way, couldn’t stand to be confined and constricted. I needed the freedom to run free and wild, to pit my will against my prey and the thrill of the hunt.

  “Holly … there’s something I need to tell you.” I hadn’t come here to say it, but the words were crowding their way onto my tongue, demanding to be heard. “I forgive you.”

  There. I’d said it. The three words I thought I’d never say, not in this lifetime.

  I thought I’d feel better—lighter—but I felt exactly the same.

  This forgiveness thing is a pile of crap.

  My finger traced the scar on my cheek, a blunt reminder of what I’d learned. I was a different man now, harder, meaner, and a hell of a lot less gullible. A blessing in disguise?

  Giving the headstone one last pat, I stood up. It would be a while before I was back here again, maybe never. I’d made my peace.

  I had to find Frankie. She needed my protection, whether she liked it, or not. And, unlike Holly, she accepted who—and what—I was.

  My mouth curved in the first smile since arriving at this morbid place from the past. Screw accepting that I was a shifter, I was starting to think she liked it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Frankie

  “What do you mean you failed?”

  Licking the chocolate frosting from my pinky finger, I jabbed it in the air at my poor, deluded roommate. “I’m not infallible, you know.”

  Across the living room from me, Dez pulled her crossed legs further under her, doing that bendy yoga thing that she always tried to talk me into giving a go. “Yes, you are. You’re one of the best operatives the Agency has.”

  “Not for long,” I grumbled under my breath.

  “Do you really think they’re going to let you go?” The question was half wistful, half panicked.

  “They have to.”

  “What they say they’re going to do, and what they—”

  “Come on, I don’t need this right now. I come home after a shitty assignment—” sooo not shitty, my conscience interjected, “—and my best friend can’t resist being the voice of gloom.”

  “Doom.”

  My finger hovered near my mouth. “What?”

  “Doom not gloom. And I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a downer. It’s just hard, you know, watching what they put you guys through.” Her pale blue eyes blinked at me from behind her trendy thick framed glasses.

  And by guys she meant the operatives. Though the Agency wasn’t against putting the analysts and handlers in the hole, they usually didn’t have to. We were the examples, and our personalities, though perfectly suited to the role of kick-ass-name-taking-killing-machines, also meant we all spent a lot of time in the hole, being reminded of our place in the grand scheme of things.

  At least, I was pretty sure all the other operatives had too. I’d never actually met another one. I had to take Dez’s word for it, and she was pretty closed lipped. Said it was for my own good, like she was worried I’d go out and organize a revolt.

  She knew me too well.…

  “So, how did you fail? Shouldn’t you be out there tracking the target? The last time you called in you were pretty sure you had him.”

  I had only called so Dez wouldn’t interrupt my victory party with Abel. Turns out, it had been his victory party.

  “Oh, he’s dead.”

  “More details needed.”

  I lasted to the count of four. “Abel took him out.”

  “Oooh, the infamous Abel. Spill.”

  If she insisted … I grinned at her, rolling over onto my back and getting comfy. “I challenged him—”

&n
bsp; “Challenged … like the last time?”

  “Yup.” I didn’t bother to hide my smugness.

  “Oh, man … you got laid.”

  “Yup.”

  “Was he worth it? Is he still as hot and gorgeous as before?”

  “Yes, and more.”

  “Did you let him win?”

  I rolled over, affronted. “No! Of course I didn’t.”

  “Frankie … you only ever fail when you go up against him.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to blurt out his big wolfy secret, but I held it back. “I needed this win; needed the money. No way did I sabotage myself.”

  “Yeah, yeah. To buy your way out of the contract.” She rolled her eyes at me, grabbing a lime green cushion off the couch and hugging it to her chest.

  I contemplated throwing the last of my cupcake at her, but popped it in my mouth instead. Hastily sitting up, to keep from choking, I gestured at her. “You can come too, when I leave.”

  She waved her hands, the panic back again. “Uh huh. No way. Leave me out of it.”

  “Do you want to stay?” I knew she didn’t. I mean, she couldn’t actually want to. Right?

  “Of course not. But, Frankie, I owe a lot more money than you, plus I know a lot more.”

  I waved away her concerns, but privately I was worried. She was right. Her cut from the assignments I completed was a lot smaller than mine and we’d come in around the same time, one of the reasons we’d been paired together.

  I still remembered the night we had first connected. The dorm had been quiet, a lot of the older kids gone and we were still waiting on new ones to fill the empty beds. Some random kid had been sniffling, their pitiful sobs muffled by a pillow, or an arm, or whatever. I couldn’t stand it. Didn’t they know that it didn’t matter? Nothing they did would make it better, we were stuck here, and if they caught you crying then they’d make it ten times worse for you.

  I had crept out of my bed, the tiles cold against my bare feet, and followed the sound to the far end of the dorm.

  “Shut the fuck up,” the younger me had hissed, poking the hunched pile of bed sheets with suitable contempt.

  The sobs had stopped abruptly.

  Satisfied, I’d turned to creep back to my bed.

  “You’re as bad as them.”

  “What did you say?” I had snarled.

  A skinny blonde girl had blinked at me, her eyes red and huge behind large wire rimmed glasses. “We didn’t choose to be here, but a person can choose to be kind, or not. They can’t take that away from us.”

  I hadn’t slept a wink that night, my young mind trying to wrap my head around what she had said, trying to find the strength deep down inside to face who I was and what I’d become. I was fourteen and had been sent to silence my first target that night. I’d graduated with flying colors, blood on my hands, and a stain branded on my soul.

  Like Dez said, I only failed when Abel was around. And she had been the one to save me from becoming the monster the Agency had trained me to be.

  “I’m not leaving you behind.”

  “Frankie—”

  “No. I’m not leaving you. I’ll figure something out.” I had to. She was my only friend, the one who had introduced the concept of kindness to a fucked up, good-for-nothing kid. Without her … I wouldn’t have survived. Or worse …

  Springing to my feet, I stretched out my aching muscles with a satisfied sigh.

  She scowled at me, but there was no heat behind it. “Don’t brag, it’s not pretty.”

  Throwing her a smirk, I padded into the tiny kitchenette and started pawing through the fridge. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “You didn’t have to,” she grumbled, joining me in my hunt for food, shoving me out of the way with her hip. Grabbing a handful of stuff, she nudged the fridge door shut.

  I jumped up onto the counter, watching while she proceeded to build a pile of sandwiches that looked a little too healthy for my taste.

  “Eat,” she instructed, shoving a plate at me.

  I screwed my face up, picking at a slice of something ominously green that poked out of the side.

  She slapped my finger again, a mock stern expression on her face. “You can’t survive on sugar, Frankie.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not a food group.”

  Turning away, I took a big bite, swallowing back the tears that threatened. The last twenty-four hours had been too much, that’s all. “I need another job, you got something for me?”

  “So soon? Don’t you want to—”

  “No. Gimme.” I made grabby hands as she flicked through a stack of manila files, then slid one over to me. No way was I moping around the apartment with too much time on my hands and nothing to do but think. Swallowing the last bite of my sandwich, I bused my plate to the sink and rinsed it off.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to go back out? Remember last time?”

  I knew what she was getting at. It had taken me months to shake off the Abel blues last time, to stop being a grumpy bitch to everyone. “I’m fine.” I was. I had a plan, the end was in sight.

  “Just don’t go taking any unnecessary risks.”

  Like last time. I heard her silent reprimand loud and clear, the soft reminder of how I got after an Abel fix. So, I’d gotten a little reckless, played the odds a little too hard, but I wasn’t feeling reckless this time around. It was only a matter of time and I’d be able to face Abel and see where we really stood. Lay everything out on the table, no Agency looking over my shoulder, no one telling me what I could and could not do.

  In fact, I was turning over a new leaf. I had something to live for. “Nobody’s killing me this week,” I replied, heading off to the bedroom to get ready.

  Chapter Twelve

  Abel

  I was stuck. It had taken me about two minutes to figure out I didn’t know where to start. I could hardly comb the city, looking for a woman who’d probably left already. I needed a plan.

  And that’s why I found myself at the police station, peering over the shoulder of one of my former colleagues as he scrolled through mug shots while trying to breathe past the stench of old coffee and cheap perfume that saturated the air. I’d forgotten how bad the smell was, stimulating old memories to surge up from where they had long since been buried.

  “So, Abe, man, where’ve you been?” Neil asked, trying to sound casual.

  It was the first time I’d shown my face since Holly’s death; in his eyes I’d dropped off the face of the earth. But I had to give it to him, he was doing me a solid, traipsing through the database on what was turning out to be a wild goose chase.

  “Around,” I grunted out.

  His finger paused as he blinked at me, his face registering shock.

  I cleared my throat, aiming for the easy going, cheerful Abe he remembered. “I had to get out of here, man. You know … the memories …”

  “I know. Holly was one of a kind.”

  Yes. She was.

  “So, who is this woman?”

  “A friend.”

  His eyes slid from the screen to mine, then back again.

  I’d given him everything I knew about Frankie. Which wasn’t much. Her name, description—even down to the little butterfly tattoo she had on the edge of her hip. She had to be in the system, no way had she appeared on the scene without getting in a little trouble.

  Of course, I could have asked my fellow teammate Greg to hack into the law enforcement database and run the search, but I didn’t want the questions.

  “Keep going?”

  We’d been at this for three hours now, and Frankie was still eluding me.

  “Yes.”

  “So, we’re having a BBQ, and Graham’s wife—you know Carly, right?—she’s making her famous rice. Would you—”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” A short blessed silence, then, “Listen, if you ever want to …” He shrugged, letting me fill in the gaps.

  My jaw ached from where I
had smashed my teeth together, fighting off the familiar feeling of dread and despair that had gripped me since I’d walked into the station this afternoon. “No. But thanks for this,” I added, reaching for manners rusty and out of practice.

  “No sweat. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t caught that bomb. I still haven’t figured out how you knew—”

  “I’m a lucky guy.” If he picked up on the thinly veiled sarcasm, he didn’t call me on it.

  “Your girl’s not here.” He tapped the keyboard, closing the files.

  It had been a long shot, but at least I’d tried. I turned to leave.

  “Abe?”

  I looked back, taking in the concern on my old friend’s face. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

  “Got it.” I was at the door when it hit me. “Pull up the sealed records.”

  Neil’s eyebrows rose. “Juvenile?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re linked to the—”

  “Just do it.” I was back, hovering over his shoulder as he spun his chair back around. The noise of the station faded, the angry shouts of civilians and the click of fingers hammering keyboards muting.

  “I don’t know, I shouldn’t …”

  I stared at him.

  “Okay, give me a … there you go. Let’s see … it’s the same files, man.” He scrolled at a snail’s pace, the photographs confirming his words.

  Once they had your prints, even if your record had been wiped clean, they still had them. You were in the system, even as a law abiding citizen.

  Unless …

  “Run a search for non-active.”

  His eyebrows shot up, confusion creasing his homely face. “I thought you said—” He broke off at my glower, his hands flying over the keyboard.

  “There.” I tapped the screen. A young Frankie stared back at me, her full mouth twisted in a smirk and hazel eyes taunting me.

  “Abe, she died at age thirteen.”

  I didn’t reply, I couldn’t. I was too busy scanning the short bio on Frankie. Orphaned at three years old, she’d bounced around the system, getting into the usual kind of trouble. Nothing major league; shoplifting and minor assault from the looks of it. No drugs, no gangs, she’d kept herself to herself.