by Josie Hunter
She pulled out the little makeup kit she kept for emergencies, patted a little blush on her cheeks, and ran the pink gloss over her lips. After brushing her hair and pulling it into a ponytail, she called herself done.
She ran into Rusty in the hall. He glanced down at her skirt. “Who taught you to eat? A pack of hyena?” He laughed and started to walk past her.
He whirled around when she said, “Your parrot genes are showing.”
“Hey!” He came toward her, leaned down, and said in a deadly whisper, “No one is supposed to know about that.”
She smiled. “Like I wasn’t supposed to know Dylan was CIA?”
“Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t go blaming that on me. That’s your backstory, not mine. It wasn’t my place to say.”
“Maybe not,” she agreed with a sigh. “I’ll forgive you.” She grabbed the front of his jumpsuit and yanked him down to eye level. “Don’t hold back on me anymore, Rusty. You know I hate that.”
He tweaked her nose. “Such a scary boss I have.” He shoved open the door to the men’s room and vanished before she had a chance to slug him.
She entered the office and was surprised to find Jake huddled at a desk, rubbing his forehead as he flipped pages in an enormous binder. For a man who hadn’t technically started working yet, he was racking up the hours. Dylan sat at his desk, trying hard to hold in laugher, and Talon leaned back in a chair, his hands folded behind his head, a smug smile on his face. She stood in the doorway and listened.
“This is bullshit,” Jake said, shoving the binder across the desk. “It’s worse than doing taxes for the club.”
“You’re right about that, wolf-man,” Talon said. “Wouldn’t have to read half as much to learn to fly a plane. Not that I’d ever need a plane. There’s more math involved with this than getting an engineering degree. Who cares about mortgage rates and interest and assessments?” He tugged on the collar of his jumpsuit. “But not my problem now. I’m maintenance. You and Winston can arm wrestle for it or fight to the death or whatever it is you furry creatures do.”
Dylan held up his hands. “No fight to the death needed. I concede. I want nothing to do with it.”
Jake pulled the binder toward him again and leaned forward in his chair. “Just listen to some of these sample questions. A habendum clause would be found in…A, a note, B, a mortgage, C, a deed, D, a sales contract. What the fuck?”
“That’s easy enough,” Dylan said. “The answer is C, a deed. A habendum clause defines the types of interest and rights the grantee or lessee is entitled to. For example, what a person might be entitled to in a time share or say an oil or gas lease.”
“How the fuck do you know that?” Talon asked.
Dylan shrugged.
“Okay, hotshot,” Jake said, “how about this one?” He flipped a couple pages and his finger slid over several lines. “If an agent receives a thank-you note from a lender for the referral of a buyer, and that note includes a gift certificate, what law makes this kickback illegal? A, Regulation Z, B—”
“RESPA,” Dylan said.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Talon asked.
“It’s an acronym for Real Estate Settlement Procedures Act.”
“I think we have a winner.” Stephanie walked into the room, clapping.
“A winner for…Oh no,” Dylan said. “No way am I taking this licensing test.”
“Doesn’t matter, you’re elected,” Stephanie said. “That’ll teach you to show off. Gabe Laughton wants us to pass this test by next week, and you’re our best bet.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Rusty ran into the room, shoving his phone into his pocket. He rushed past them all like a roadrunner on the desert. Stephanie’s ponytail lifted in his wake.
He yanked open the door, and a tall, skinny redhead stalked in. He yanked the woman into his arms and twirled her around. The woman squealed as her gauzy skirt flew around her legs, but she wrapped her arms around Rusty’s neck and hung on for dear life. When he dropped her on the ground, the woman stumbled, and he grabbed her elbow, pulling her behind him as he moved across the room.
Stephanie glanced between them. Both tall. Both skinny as rails. Both redheads. And though Stephanie couldn’t see the woman’s ears beneath the curly tresses, one glance at those big hands and the feet encased in size 11 sensible pumps told her all she needed to know.
“I’m Stephanie.” She held out her hand toward Rusty’s twin sister.
“Renee Terwilliger,” she said with a big-toothed grin. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Funny,” Stephanie murmured, casting a glance filled with daggers toward Rusty. “I haven’t heard a thing about you.”
Renee thankfully didn’t hear her. Her gaze traveled to Dylan and then Jake. She gave them both cursory nods with smiles then moved on without skipping a beat. Her eyes settled directly on Talon. She strode across the room and pushed out the big paddle of a hand.
“You must be Barry. Rusty won’t shut up about you.”
Stephanie burst out laughing when both Rusty and Talon turned matching shades of red neon.
“I can never shut up about you either, Barry,” Stephanie said.
“Can it, rabbit,” Talon said. He gingerly took Renee’s hand in his and shook it gently. “Nice to meet you, Renee.”
She smiled and turned to Stephanie. “So, Russell says you’re the boss.”
Talon’s brow lifted. “Russell? This gets better and better.”
Renee smiled another big-toothed smile, turning the entire wattage onto Talon. “Russell and I are twins in case you can’t tell.” She fluffed her hair. “I’m the better looking one, of course.”
“That goes without saying,” Talon said with a crooked smile of his own.
Renee whirled around. “So, Stephanie, Russell says you have a bit of a problem here. You need someone to pass a real estate license exam?”
“We do,” Stephanie said with a nod.
“Well, I’m licensed in every state in New England. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble passing Texas.” She winked. “I have a photographic memory. Just point me in the direction of the books, and I’ll have the test aced by Monday. And you don’t need to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable with. I know how all this works.”
Three huge gusts of air filled the room as Stephanie, Dylan, and Jake breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“I’ll get started right now. Where do you want me?”
Talon quickly shoved Jake out of his chair, guided Renee to the vacated seat, and settled the book in front of her. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, iced tea, water?”
Stephanie struggled to hold in her amusement.
“Coffee would be wonderful, Barry,” Renee said with another megawatt smile.
Rusty started to move past Stephanie, but she grabbed the back of his jumpsuit. “So I guess I’m not the only one keeping secrets around here.”
He had the grace to blush again. “Well, she’s kind of geeky, as you can see. Cramps my style.”
“And yet you sent for her.”
Rusty shrugged, his shoulders lifting his jumpsuit like a coat hanger. “Yeah, she was bored with New Haven anyway. Renee likes to move around a lot. I figured it would be good for her, and that photographic memory isn’t a joke. She’s the solution to our problem.”
“She is indeed.” Stephanie glanced over to see Talon pull a chair up alongside Renee. “Would you be doing a bit of matchmaking, too?”
“Well, if love blossoms…” Rusty smirked. “Anything to get her off my case.”
“Sounds like a good solution for all of us.”
Chapter 9
She and Jake conducted interviews in the afternoon. First, they stopped at the hardware store, where they found the usually skittish Patsy Vickers had rallied enough from finding a dead body to actually go to work. She took them into the break room and detailed her discovery. There wasn’t much to tell. She had been running through
the park like she did every morning between six and seven. She always ran several circuits, grabbed a cup of coffee at Delectable, then headed back to her condo several blocks down Bluebonnet Avenue. She told them she usually had the park to herself until nearly seven o’clock, when five or six other residents came out for their morning run. She’d seen no one in the park until after she made the 911 call. She assured them she hadn’t touched a thing, and considering Scott’s face had been turned toward the sky, she had known his identity immediately. She said she would come by the office and sign a statement the next week.
When they arrived at Chance Delay’s house, Stephanie could plainly see the poor man was as distraught as a man could get, both with grief that his lover had been killed and with concern that anyone would have deemed him a suspect. After several hours of trying to interrogate him through his tears, Stephanie had determined he was no more involved in the murder of Scott Bennington than she was. She’d known that, of course, but procedures had to be followed. She’d done her duty now and cleared him. She didn’t give a fuck what Hennessey said in his report.
As they walked back to the office, their hands brushed every now and then, reminding Stephanie just how deep she was into this relationship with him already—both personal and professional. Jake had proven himself invaluable to her with his knowledge of their mission and the town and the people, his skillful interrogation techniques, and his calm and careful observations. On a personal level, she found she had difficulty concentrating when in his presence.
His pheromones nearly knocked her on her ass at times, catching her off guard in the strangest moments, like when their knees had touched sitting near one another in Chance’s living room and when he’d pulled a wayward leaf from her hair. One glance, one touch, and she found herself wanting to fall into his arms. Wolves would be the death of her. She knew that for a fact.
It wasn’t just one wolf this time. It was two because now she had Dylan’s return to contend with as well.
When they pushed open the door to the cool office, everyone was where they’d been when she left. Rusty was absent as usual, but she heard the steady whine of a drill coming from the hallway. Dylan was glancing through some computer files, obviously getting up-to-date on what little they had to go on so far. Most of the statements had come from Rosa Santos and Robb Jackson. Talon was sitting as close to Renee as he could without being in her lap, though, from the looks of it, Renee was ready to invite him anywhere he wanted to go. They were talking quietly between themselves and, other than a lift of Talon’s head, barely acknowledged their return.
“I’ve got to get down to Clandestine and check with Redwolf. Make sure everything’s good for this evening. Fridays are pretty busy, with both regulars and visiting members.”
As she dropped her purse on her desk, Stephanie turned. “I appreciate you going with me to Chance’s. He seemed to welcome the friendly face. You handled him very well.”
“We’ve known each other for years. He’s a good guy, as you saw. Just because he lives a somewhat unusual lifestyle doesn’t make him one of the bad ones.”
“No, of course not. Hennessey was wrong to accuse him.”
Dylan held up a sheath of papers without glancing up from the computer. “He sent a runner with his report. Pretty old-fashioned if you ask me.”
“Hennessey’s kind of locked into old-school methods,” Jake said. “Guess he doesn’t want a virtual trail.”
“Would he know what a virtual trail is?” Dylan asked.
“Probably not.” Jake plucked the report out of Dylan’s hand and skimmed it. “Huh. I’m kind of surprised. He’s cleared Chance as well.”
When he handed it to Stephanie, she glanced at it and nodded. “Good. We’ll get this scanned in and encrypted.” She shook her head. “Then we’ll shred this.”
“I can do that,” Renee said.
Surprised by the offer, Stephanie simply stared for a moment. “That’s probably not a good idea. It’s a bit more than a suspect’s statement.”
“Oh! Didn’t Rusty tell you?” She grabbed her purse from the edge of the desk and dug into it with both hands. She pulled out an ID wallet and flipped it open. A shiny FBI badge was tucked inside.
“You’re FBI?”
“For two years now. I’m involved with mortgage fraud and scams. Hence the various real estate licenses. New England has been my territory. I assure you I have the proper clearances, but I can put you in touch with any of my supervisors. It’s why Rusty thought I’d be perfect to help you in whatever you need here. I realize it’s just a front, but I have no trouble playing a part. I do it all the time in my work.” She smiled.
“They let you leave the FBI, just like that?”
“I informed the paranormal division I’d like a temporary assignment here, pending your approval. They didn’t have a problem with it. The paranormal divisions trade agents all the time.”
“They do?” Stephanie asked. Man, she really wanted to be part of the inner circle.
“Sure. We all have to work together, right?”
“Absolutely. And, just for the record, the approval is no longer pending. Welcome to Catamount Cottages and Condos.”
Stephanie handed the report to Renee, who immediately turned to the computer to start the scan.
“My life just got infinitely easier,” she said to Jake.
He leaned down and brushed his lips against her ear. “Your life getting easier makes my life easier.”
“Yep,” Dylan said, pushing back his chair. “Everything works better when Stephanie’s life is easier. If Stephanie ain’t happy, none of us are happy. I speak from personal experience.”
Stephanie shot him the dirtiest look in her arsenal, and Jake gave him a hard stare, obviously disliking the reminder that Dylan had known her before.
“Sorry,” Dylan said with a shrug. “Just a personal observation. I thought we were off duty.”
“We are,” Jake growled. “Which comes with a measure of privacy.”
Dylan returned the hard stare. “Not from where I’m sitting.”
Stephanie yanked open the door and pushed Jake toward it. “Out. Go to your real job.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she said, “Your other real job.”
He glanced once more at Dylan then turned back to Stephanie. He lifted his hand toward her face then dropped it back to his side. “I’ll call you tomorrow about our date.” And, with that, he vanished before she could get another word out.
“A date, huh?” Dylan asked. “Is that kosher considering you’re technically his supervisor?”
* * * *
Dylan sat back in the chair and watched Stephanie’s head practically explode. A red blush ran from her neck up her face and disappeared into her hairline.
“Shut up,” she snarled. “Jake doesn’t officially start until Monday. I’m not his boss yet. So there.”
He expected her to stick out her tongue, but she disappointed him. She sniffed instead.
“And,” she continued, “you should learn to keep your personal comments to yourself.”
“Hey…” He spread his arms. “I didn’t say anything the dude doesn’t already know. If he’s spent any time in your company—and it sure seems like he has—he knows you as well, or better, than I do.”
Talon laughed. “And it’s not exactly a secret, Steph. Wolfman’s right. Life is infinitely better when you’re happy.”
“I am the boss you know.”
“Isn’t it after five?” Talon glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’re only our boss until five.”
“Or until I say so.”
Dylan laughed, and she shot him a dirty look. Same old Stephanie. For a woman who lived life by the rules, he’d noticed she was always re-writing the playbook to suit her own purposes.
“From where I sit,” Talon said, “we’re off duty so we can say whatever we want. Speaking of off duty…” He lifted his big body out of the chair and stretched. “Since we’re done with Stephanie’s bo
ssy bullshit for the day, let’s try that wine bar down the street. What’dya say?” He held out his hand toward Renee.
“I’d love to…if it’s okay with Stephanie.”
Stephanie waved her hand. “Sure. Go on. Have fun. Barry can show you all the Catamount hotspots.” Stephanie squinted her eyes at Talon. “I’ll get you for this.”
His bushy brows rose. The man looked as innocent as a toddler. “For what, boss?”
“You know for what,” she snarled.
With amusement, Dylan watched her gaze snap to him. He managed to hold in his laugh, but Talon couldn’t. The room echoed with the sound of his laughter as he waited for Renee to grab her purse. They had escaped out the door before Stephanie had time to make another comment, letting it slam just as a wad of paper hit the glass.
She flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, and Dylan watched her ass shimmy under the tight dress as she moved to her desk. When she sat down, her skirt hiked up her creamy bare thighs. She crossed her legs, opened her laptop, and began to jiggle her foot—the foot now encased in a pair of running shoes.
He stood up and stretched, flexing his knee. Jogging was definitely out in his foreseeable future, but he had other methods to keep in shape. As he studied her, thoughts of a more personal workout filled his head. He’d been in love with Stephanie in so many ways, from her dry sense of humor to her mouth like a sailor, from her determination and willpower to overcome her size and genetic nature to her sympathetic and often too-soft heart. But he had to admit her physical appeal and love of sexual pleasures had always been right at the top of the list.
Obviously something had happened between her and Jake Westin. Probably something recently. He wasn’t letting that stand in his way. He was back in her life now, and if he had to fight Jake Westin to get her back, he would.
He went over to her desk and held out his hand.
“Come to the river with me.”
She glanced up and blinked then pushed her glasses up. She’d always done that when she needed a moment to think.
“The river?” She cast a glance toward her laptop and shook her head. “I have reports to input. I don’t have time to play.”