Lure of the Wolf (Aloha Shifters: Jewels of the Heart Book 2)

by Anna Lowe

  Boone looked at her with a question in his eyes. What packages?

  She shrugged back. I have no clue.

  Boone, Hunter, and Cruz stared at each other. It was the damnedest thing, the way their eyebrows twitched and their lips quirked without uttering a word, as if an entire conversation was going on in their minds. A stab of jealousy struck her as she yearned to be that close to Boone, to share that special bond. To be his, and to be able to call him hers.

  Just as it had before, that feeling swept her away.

  That man is yours, and you’re his. It was like an angel was whispering in her ear or a primal voice sounding deep in her bones.

  Boone met her eyes, and for a heartbeat, she felt connected to him. Truly connected as the rest of the world faded away. The hubbub of the lobby, the chirp of birds outside. Nothing mattered but her and him.

  Then Cruz made a sound and stuck an elbow in Boone’s ribs, and the magic faded away again.

  Boone blinked a few times as if clearing his head then gave a curt nod. He stepped to the desk with her and looked on as the receptionist laid out a brown manila envelope and a stack of letters with fancy printing.

  Nina swayed a little, pulling slowly out of that joyous, dancing-in-a field-of-wildflowers feeling she’d had from staring into Boone’s eyes.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, scooping up the mail with both hands. How was she ever going to get all this home on the back of a motorcycle?

  Then it hit her. First of all, Koa Point wasn’t home. Second, Hunter and Cruz had come separately, so there had to be another vehicle. But truthfully, she hoped they’d let her dump the packages into the back seat of one and ride with Boone. It wasn’t just a cheap excuse to snuggle up against his back, either. It just felt right, the way staying in his modest bungalow felt homier than a luxurious penthouse suite ever could.

  She’d just caught his gaze and found the dawn of a warm smile on his lips when a shadow moved behind them. Boone went stiff all over and glared at someone over her shoulder.

  “You,” Boone muttered as Cruz and Hunter bristled.

  They were huddled so tightly around her, she could barely see who it was. She could feel the stranger’s eyes on her, though. The dark, piercing eyes of a predator. The roguish smile of a supremely confident man — Han Solo gone over to the dark side, or so Nina imagined from the glimpses she caught before Hunter started hustling her toward the exit. Her soul wailed all the way. Wait. Why wasn’t Boone leaving, too?

  Boone’s gaze met hers, and his eyes blazed in a way that said she had to go. Pronto.

  “Wait,” she tried, but Cruz boxed her in and hurried her through the door.

  “Boone will catch up with us. We have to go now,” Hunter murmured. His voice was soft, but his eyes showed alarm. “We need to get you someplace safe.”

  Chapter Eight

  The second Boone spotted his old enemy, a growl built in his throat, and he didn’t bother swallowing it away. His cheeks heated, and his fists clenched at the sight of the wolf shifter he hated — the only living being he truly despised. His body and mind immediately went into war-zone mode — blood pumping, senses piqued. Pain stabbed at his chest because he was being torn apart — half of him desperate to stay with Nina, the other half eager to get her someplace safe so he could kill the asshole standing before him now.

  What the hell was Kramer doing here?

  “Well, now. Who do we have here?” Kramer grinned, showing the points of his teeth. Even in human form, the guy showed his inner wolf. His shit-eating grin and coarse brown hair was all canine, too.

  Boone held back a punch — barely — and settled for hustling Kramer to an alcove off the lobby.

  Kramer went right on smiling as if pissing off Boone was his favorite pastime — and Boone was sure it was. At the same time, though, the mercenary’s eyes darted to the door, catching a parting glimpse of Hunter, Cruz, and Nina.

  Boone snarled and let his fangs extend.

  “What? Not happy to see me?” Kramer protested.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I’m a guest, of course,” Kramer said, far too innocently.

  “A guest.” Boone made it a statement, not a question, though he didn’t buy that for one second.

  “Absolutely. I’ve been moving up in the world, you see. Made myself some good money with the last couple of jobs.”

  Boone scowled. Kramer had a way of coming out ahead no matter what the odds were, and the end always justified the means.

  “And you, I see, have been hired by the lovely Miss Miller for protection.” Kramer nodded. “Good idea. Things can be dangerous for a woman in her position.”

  Every muscle in Boone’s body coiled, and the only thing keeping him from going for Kramer’s throat was the sound of a Jeep powering up the driveway. Hunter was driving Nina to safety, with Cruz close behind in the Ferrari. At least there was that. But, shit. Kramer knew Nina?

  Boone’s wolf howled. Kramer had already stolen a woman from him, and hell, the bastard would try it again if only for the sick fun of the game.

  Kramer slapped him on the shoulder like they were old buddies and not mortal enemies. “What are we doing standing here when we can get the good stuff and drink to old times?” He pointed to the bar.

  “Old times?” Boone scowled.

  He, Hunter, and the others had all served their country honorably while Kramer had popped in and out of war zones as a private contractor. Whatever good Boone and the others tried to do — whatever degree of local trust they won — Kramer and his band of mercenaries would come along and blow to bits. War, like love, was a game to Kramer. War was business, nothing more.

  Collateral damage, Kramer had once shrugged, deaf to the sound of women screaming in grief.

  “Sure. We can drink to the buddies we lost,” Kramer said, taking a jab at a raw nerve.

  Kramer couldn’t care less about losses, while Boone had truly grieved — and still grieved — over every man they’d lost, every innocent life cut short.

  Boone clenched his fists before his wolf claws could slide out. He’d rather walk through fire than drink a toast with Kramer. But he couldn’t break into a fight here, much less walk away from the chance to find out what Kramer was doing on Maui — and what that had to do with Nina. So he followed Kramer to the bar on the outdoor terrace and reluctantly took a seat. Kramer leaned back in a chair, taking a corner spot with a view of two bikini-clad women at the pool. Boone sat ramrod straight, clenching his fists.

  “What the hell do you mean, things can be dangerous for a woman in her position?” Boone demanded the second the waitress walked away.

  Kramer’s eyes followed the young woman’s swaying hips for a few seconds, and he licked his lips before replying.

  “Now, now. You shouldn’t let emotion get in the way of a job.”

  Boone scoffed. “You’re the master of that, aren’t you?”

  Kramer tut-tutted. “Emotions make you weak,” he said, putting the emphasis on you.

  “What’s dangerous to Nina?”

  Kramer lifted an eyebrow — the one sliced by a jagged scar. “You’re on a first-name basis with a client? You know better than that, my friend.”

  Nina wasn’t a client, and Kramer sure as hell wasn’t his friend, but Boone bit back his rebuke. The waitress came back with the whiskeys Kramer had ordered, and the second she left, Kramer evaded the question by raising his glass.

  “To old friends and new adventures. May the best man win.”

  The same damn toast Kramer uttered every time. Everything was a contest to Kramer, every venture a way to profit. Boone shoved his glass away and kept his lips sealed.

  Kramer tossed back a long slug of whiskey and thumped the glass on the table. “Tamara’s here, you know.” He uttered the words without missing a beat, landing a direct hit on Boone’s rawest nerve.

  Will not shift to wolf form. Will not tear his throat out, Boone promised himself, though the effort
made him squirm in his seat.

  “She’ll be so glad to see you,” Kramer grinned, turning the screws of torture tighter.

  “I bet,” Boone managed, though his throat was dry.

  The last time Boone had seen his ex-fiancée had been during a short leave between tours of duty. He’d wanted to surprise her, but the surprise was all on him when he found Tammy naked with her legs wrapped around Kramer, moaning, Yes, yes, yes. Fuck me, wolf. Fuck me hard.

  The exact same words she’d once fed Boone back when he’d been under her spell. He’d fallen head over heels at first sight and told himself Tammy was the one. His destined mate. The woman he wanted to protect and cherish forever. The one person in the whole world who really understood him, or so he had imagined until he’d shaken himself free of her siren-like spell.

  Kramer did us a favor, ridding us of her, he told himself.

  Goddamn succubus, his wolf growled.

  But the pain was still there. The rejection, the deceit. He’d remained faithful to Tammy while she jumped right on to her next good fuck, Kramer — and who knows who else?

  A good thing Boone wasn’t gripping his glass. It would have shattered from sheer pressure. He’d been so gullible, thinking it was destiny rather than Tammy’s succubus magic pulling him in. The woman wanted sex, sex, and more sex — and she got it.

  Honestly? Cruz had told Boone when he found out what had happened. You’re better off without her, and she and Kramer are perfect for each other. Two self-centered mercenaries, feeding off each other. Let her go, Boone.

  Boone ground his teeth. He had let go of Tammy, but the scars of her betrayal remained. For wolf shifters, nothing was more sacred than the bond between destined mates, and Tammy had stomped all the faith out of him.

  His wolf growled. Just because she bewitched us doesn’t mean destiny won’t send us our true mate.

  An image of Nina, stretching and sleepy in his bed, hit him like a ton of bricks.

  Our true mate, his wolf hummed.

  He shook his head, trying to focus. He needed to put every fucked-up emotion aside and squeeze some information out of Kramer.

  “Who are you working for?”

  Kramer leaned back so far, his chair balanced on the two rear legs. “I told you. I’m a guest here.”

  It took everything Boone had not to kick the chair over. He could smell the lie as clearly as he could smell the malty scent of his drink. Just as clearly as he could scent… His blood ran cold.

  “Hello, baby,” a silky soprano said from behind him.

  And shit, he nearly turned. But the words were aimed at Kramer, not him.

  Tammy sashayed past, circling behind Kramer then leaning down to kiss his ear. Make that, lick and fondle Kramer’s ear. Boone cringed. What had he ever seen in that woman?

  She wore a tiny string bikini matched with the Hawaiian print sarong tied around her waist, leaving a hell of a lot of flesh on display in between. The only thing the bikini actually covered was her nipples, and even that was a stretch. Her black hair bounced and curled over her shoulders, putting her cleavage in and out of display, and she stood on a pair of high-heeled sandals that tied with black leather straps, giving a little hint of her preferences in bed.

  Every man on the terrace turned and sniffed. Boone would have given anything to casually announce, She’s a succubus. Watch your hearts and your wallets, guys. Better yet, watch your dicks.

  “Boone,” she murmured, running her hands down Kramer’s chest. Her eyes lit, and her tongue swiped over her lips.

  Boone sat perfectly still, worried that the animal part of his body might still react to her.

  If I react, it’s to her magic, not to her, his wolf growled.

  But — no. Not a flicker of arousal. If anything, he felt disgust — a piece of knowledge he held on to like a shield.

  Loving Nina makes us immune, his wolf smiled. Thinking of Nina makes it easy to ignore this evil bitch. All I need is Nina. Nina…

  The sun shone a little brighter, and the stuffy feeling that had enveloped him evaporated with a hint of a fresh breeze.

  Tammy’s face froze in a crocodile smile as she waited for him to react. And waited, and waited…

  When Nina smiles, it’s because she’s happy. Really happy, his wolf observed.

  Boone couldn’t help but think the smiles he loved most were the ones he helped create. When Tammy smiled, on the other hand, a thousand warning bells went off in his mind.

  “My, my. You’re looking good, Boone,” she cooed, undressing him with her eyes.

  “And you haven’t changed a bit, Tammy,” he said. It wasn’t a compliment.

  “Ta-ma-ra,” she corrected, drawing the syllables out to give them a sophisticated, old-word feel. All fake, which was fitting. “Such a surprise to see you here.”

  Surprise? He was the one who lived on Maui. What the hell were these two crooks doing, invading his corner of paradise?

  “I suppose you’re a guest here, too,” he managed to say, though his voice dripped with disbelief.

  “Sure am. Nice place, huh?” She leaned closer. “Nice big bed in our suite, too. Just think what fun the three of us could have there.”

  Even Kramer scowled at that one, and Boone couldn’t help but wonder what kind of arrangement they had. Did Kramer indulge Tammy in her wild cravings, or had he found a way to keep her on a tight leash?

  Whatever. Boone had never felt so lucky to be rid of Tammy as just then, and it made him see Kramer in a new light. Maybe Tammy was fate’s way of punishing Kramer, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

  “Get out on the water lately?” Boone asked as a motorboat cruised by. He focused on Kramer’s eyes, and there it was — a flash of devious recognition.

  “Yep. Caught myself a big fish, too,” Kramer said, wearing a shit-eating grin.

  “Caught or lost?” Boone shot back.

  The mercenary’s even breathing hitched for a split second — so briefly, Boone would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching closely for the tell.

  “Unlike some men, I never lose anything,” Kramer said.

  It was another dig, but a clue at the same time, and the gears ticked over in Boone’s mind. Kramer might not have thrown Nina overboard and left her for dead, but Boone would bet anything the mercenary knew who had.

  He wouldn’t get more out of Kramer than that, though. So he stood briskly — so briskly, Kramer’s shoulders bunched as if to ward off an attack.

  Good, Boone’s wolf growled. Let him feel jumpy. Let him know we mean business.

  A second later, the smooth veneer was back, masking his enemy’s face. “Leaving so soon?”

  Boone wanted to shove the words back down Kramer’s throat. Yes, he was leaving, but only so he didn’t kill Kramer on the spot or give anything away. He’d already let too much slip.

  “Bad smell in here,” he murmured.

  Kramer’s smirk said, Is that the best you can do? And when he raised his glass in a good-bye toast, Boone could read the words on his face. May the best man win.

  He flashed a fake smile and forced himself to walk off at his usual jaunty pace. Kramer and Tamara watched him go — the hairs standing up on the back of his neck told him so — and he stretched his shoulders wide. When he mounted his bike and drove off, he made sure to give the engine an extra rev in a clear message.

  May the best man win, asshole. May the best man win.

  Chapter Nine

  Nina stared at the pile of mail in her lap as Hunter drove. Nina Miller, the envelope said.

  Nina Miller was printed across the second envelope, too. She ran a finger across the top line.

  My name is Nina Miller. She could feel a slew of memories press at the edge of her mind like tea lapping at the rim of an overfilled mug.

  She twisted to look back for the tenth time. She was with Hunter in his vehicle, a dusty, black Jeep with a dent in the front fender. Cruz was right on their tail in a sparkling red Ferrari, revving the engine impatie
ntly. As far as getaways were concerned, Hunter was definitely keeping a pedestrian pace, driving the speed limit and not a tick faster.

  Nina craned her neck farther, but Boone was nowhere to be seen.

  “He might be a while,” Hunter murmured.

  Nina forced herself to sit straight. Was it that obvious that she was fretting over Boone? She folded and refolded her hands then rearranged her mail on her lap, unable to keep still.

  “Do you know that man back there?” she asked, picturing the big, hulking guy that Boone had shown such a reaction to.

  Hunter chewed on his words for a full minute before giving a curt nod.

  Well? she wanted to scream.

  Hunter rearranged his grip on the steering wheel. “Kramer. A mercenary. Bad news.”

  Nina’s jaw dropped. At least Hunter told it like it was.

  “Will Boone be okay?”

  Hunter looked at her, tilted his head, and considered his words carefully, as he always seemed to do. “You’re the one someone tried to kill.”

  “I mean Boone dealing with that guy.”

  She hadn’t gotten a good look at Kramer, but it had been enough to know the man was downright scary — and that there was definitely bad blood between him and Boone.

  Hunter navigated another three curves before answering. “Boone can handle Kramer. I worry more about her. The witch.”

  Her? Who, her? Nina hadn’t seen a woman. She stared at Hunter, who’d suddenly sealed his lips.

  “Police station is right there,” Hunter murmured, slowing down at an intersection. “Honestly, if you feel safer going there…”

  Safe? She felt safest with Boone. Leaving him had torn at the fabric of her soul, but Boone had insisted when the other man appeared. Having her room ransacked was definitely a complication, and if the mercenary had anything to do with it… Maybe it was time to go to the police.

  She imagined how that might go. Someone tried to kill me. Can you help me, please?

  What’s your name, miss?

  Apparently, it’s Nina Miller. I don’t really remember, though.