Veiled Target (A Veilers Novel)

by Robin Bielman

  “That’s a very personal question considering I’ve only known you for five minutes.”

  “Really? You think so?” She wiggled in her seat, careful to keep the neckline of her dress in place. “Because I feel like we could have met before.”

  She couldn’t exactly explain it, or put a clear picture to it, but there was definitely something between them that extended beyond the past few minutes. The thought heated her from the inside out. Blind date or not, their paths might have somehow crossed.

  “Does that line really work for you?” A genuine look of pleasure, albeit small, spread across his face for the first time since he sat down.

  The back of her throat tickled. “That wasn’t,” she choked out, trying to stay calm, “a line. I really meant it.” Good onya, Tess. She reached for her beer and finished it, praying the cold liquid would alleviate the heat inside her. God, I hope my cheeks aren’t red.

  Rather than reply, he picked up his beer. She could swear she saw the corners of his mouth turn up while he drank. Once finished, he placed the mug next to hers, slid them to the edge of the table and motioned to the waitress for two more.

  Guess he liked the line.

  As she inwardly cringed, she focused on slowing the hasty beat of her heart. This was worse than any assignment. It was like she had no control over her mouth—or other parts of her body. Assign her to a mark, and no matter how good looking, she never experienced an elevated heart rate, never worried a blush would cross her face. Assign her to a blind date and she became a bumbling idiot.

  Scarier still, it felt good. Tess the eliminator had disappeared.

  “I’m both glad and lucky you’re sitting across the table from me. Whether we’ve met before or not, you look quite stunning this evening.” He shrugged off his coat, ready to stay awhile. “And that isn’t a line either.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Playing nice wove a bewitching thread of vibrations through her. Damn. First meeting jitters aside, the air between them no longer felt as though it might crackle—except in a good, maybe-I’ll-go-back-to-your-place kind of way.

  That was the only explanation she could think of as to why she let her defenses down and let a more unguarded side show. “I’m not very good or proficient at the whole dating thing.”

  “Because of your one-liners?” Amusement crossed his handsome features.

  Smart-ass.

  “You arm-wrestle?” she asked.

  “What?” His brows furrowed. His smile waned.

  “Can you arm-wrestle?” She had the feeling she wouldn’t beat him at verbal sparring, but no one could beat her at arm-wrestling. Not even a two-hundred-pound, muscle-clad, hunk of man.

  The waitress hit the side of the table with her hip, momentarily drawing Tess’s attention away from the most inviting blue eyes she’d ever had the pleasure of gazing into. Beer sloshed onto the table as the waitress traded their empty mugs for full ones before hurrying off.

  “Sure, I can arm-wrestle.” He looked insulted that she’d even considered the notion he couldn’t.

  Good. She had him off balance already.

  “Are you left or right handed? And be honest.”

  “Honestly, I’m right handed.”

  Tess studied him. He didn’t break eye contact. Didn’t fidget or scratch behind his neck. He did have a fresh scar above his left brow, the skin lighter there, the sutured line still pink.

  “Cool. Me too. Let’s do this left handed then.”

  “By do this, you mean arm-wrestle?” His eyes widened. “Me?”

  “You got a problem with that?” She put her arm, bent at the elbow, on the table.

  He added his arm to the mix. “No problem here. But why?”

  Because it was the first thing to come to mind when he’d flustered her. Because she hadn’t lost a match yet. Because she wanted to feel his hand in hers. She was dying to touch his skin again, absorb his warmth and anything else that went along with it. Their brief handshake wasn’t enough.

  “It’s fun.” Lame, but also true. Any challenge got her endorphins pumping.

  Trey stared at her like she’d forgotten he was a good eighty pounds heavier and six inches taller. “Is there a prize for the winner?”

  His likeability rating just shot up ten points. “Oh, there’s definitely a prize for the winner.”

  “And that would be?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think?” She wanted his input, and planned to agree with whatever he came up with.

  “Breakfast.”

  She choked. “I’m sorry?”

  “The loser buys the winner breakfast. Pancakes, French toast, omelet, whatever.”

  It was tough keeping the nervous smile at bay. “Tomorrow?” she ventured.

  “The loser chooses when.” He wiggled his fingers, indicating impatience. At the same time, the corners of his mouth lifted into a distracting grin.

  When he did that, it was damn near impossible not to turn to mush. She let out a my-ass-is-grass sigh. “Deal.” Either way she was a goner.

  Her fingers wiggled in return as she drew her legs up, used her other arm for leverage, and positioned herself on her knees. The table was wide so she needed to allow for a little more bend in her arm. Technique was critical in arm-wrestling.

  “You comfortable?” He didn’t shift an inch.

  “Give me—”

  “Because I wouldn’t want you blaming your loss on wrong positioning.”

  “—a second,” she bit out while settling into the prime spot for a win. “And for your information, I’m not going to lose.”

  “What is it they say?” he teased, taking her hand and wrapping his fingers between hers. “Oh yeah. ‘May the best man win.’”

  She heard his words, but couldn’t register any meaning. The hand-holding sent a hot rush of warmth through her, as if she’d dipped her body in luxuriating bath oil. Comfort tinged with need settled over her thoughts, leading her to believe she’d met her match. A match she’d had no intention of encountering. How did the simple act of touching his hand do that? She didn’t want to let go.

  A flicker of heat in his eyes made her quiver and she hoped he didn’t feel any doubt in her grip. It seemed hopeless to exert any strength right now.

  And that was precisely why he looked at her that way, Tess rationalized. He wanted her off balance, hoping to gain the upper hand. Well, he’d failed. She willed the electricity she felt between them away, and got down to business. She’d learned to compartmentalize while working for P.I.E., and there was no reason why she couldn’t apply it to her date.

  “You’ll be sorry you said that in a minute.”

  “On your count then.”

  “One…two…three.”

  Tess was much stronger than she looked. Left or right hand didn’t matter. She wrote right handed, swung a baseball bat right-handed, but what she’d failed to mention was she did pretty much everything else left-handed, including one-arm push-ups. She watched him realize his miscalculation the second she finished counting.

  “You’re not”—he growled—“right handed, are you?”

  “Oh, I’m right handed. But I’m left handed too.”

  He looked at her quizzically.

  “I’m ambidextrous,” she bragged.

  With eyes glued on him, she took him down, their hands hitting the table with a thump. When he immediately released her, she wished it had taken more time to win. Victory didn’t feel as good as his hand did.

  “How about dinner?” he asked as if nothing had happened.

  “That’s it? No congratulations?” She resituated herself on the seat, her legs grateful for the change in position.

  “I’d be happy to congratulate you,” he drawled, “except I believe I’m the winner here.”

  “Do I need to explain win and lose to you?” she teased, adjusting the neckline of her dress.

  His eyes dipped to her chest for a split second. “I’m sure
there’s lots of things you’d like to enlighten me on, but I’m good on that point.”

  “You owe me breakfast.”

  “I do. And I’ll let you know when.”

  Chapter Three

  Hugh always thought before he acted. But somewhere between Tess’s clearing her throat and issuing an arm-wrestle challenge, he’d lost track of his mission: find out if she knew anything that would help him find Trey.

  He’d assumed his apprentice’s identity to discover if Trey’s blind date might turn up some useful information. In Hugh’s mind, there was no such thing as a chance encounter.

  And that notion had hit him in the gut with the force of a hurricane. Because the second he’d laid eyes on Tess, he knew his life was about to change. With pale yellow hair that fell in waves past her shoulders, smart, challenging eyes and sun-kissed skin, she was the most captivating creature he’d ever seen.

  “It’s only fair that I get to pick the place then. I mean I did win. I should have some say in my prize.” Her eyes sparkled bluer than tropical waters, matching the color of her sexy dress.

  “I’ll give you that,” he conceded. “And go so far as to add anywhere your heart desires.” He wanted to whisk her away right now. Start his vacation this instant with her along for the ride. Her floral scent seeped into his skin, and he could still feel her warmth at his fingertips. The wisps of blonde hair around her face made him itch to touch her.

  Bloody hell. Had he really just offered to fly her anywhere? This was not a real date. He didn’t do women. Well, he did them. But only meaningless one-night stands. Something told him Tess was anything but meaningless. She put on a tough exterior, but he’d tasted her fear when he’d acted like an asshole. He suspected beyond her guard lay a woman that could unravel him.

  Her eyes grew wider. “Anywhere, huh? Within what mile radius, may I ask?”

  “That depends on the rest of the date,” he teased. Fuck. He didn’t tease. He cleared his throat. “I’m a pilot. We can fly to San Francisco. Seattle. Chicago. Cabo.” Reaching for his beer, he took a long drag while she pondered his generosity. He told himself he’d made the offer only to get her to trust him, to let down her defenses and go beyond small talk. He certainly had no intention of following through.

  “Wow.” She joined him in a drink. “I’m glad I agreed to this blind date.”

  Blind date. Right. She had no idea who he was and for a split second he thought about coming clean. Because he knew how to read women—human women in particular—and Tess’s scent told him he’d aroused her, her combative eyes told him he’d intrigued her. But this wasn’t about the two of them, and with a shake of his head, he reminded himself he had no interest in seeing to her wants.

  The churning in his stomach had nothing to do with wanting her to like him.

  It had to do with keeping his distance. As alpha for the Night Runners, he was expected to mate and have children. But after his older brother, Max, had died from a broken heart, Hugh vowed to avoid attachment. That decision hadn’t sat well with the pack and so he’d decided to groom Trey to take over. The younger wolfen was anxious to mate and was honored to step into the role.

  “You okay?”

  Tess’s question shook him from his thoughts, and he let out a low grumble. No woman had stirred even the tiniest emotion from him. Why this one?

  “I’m fine,” he said. And then to erase the desire he saw in her eyes, he added, “Maybe I should take your demon roommates to breakfast too?”

  The frown she gave him said he’d offended her by including her friends. Good. “You…”

  He waited, trying not to show signs she had him on the edge of his seat. Her voice sounded flustered, and he imagined she was sorting out how much temperament to give away in her answer.

  “You wouldn’t be able to handle the three of us. Trust me.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do.”

  “Anything you don’t know?” he asked, because despite knowing he shouldn’t keep baiting her, he couldn’t stop himself. She worried her lips in a most fascinating way when flustered. And when she used them to talk? He wanted to shut her up—the good old-fashioned way—with a kiss.

  She eyed him for a few seconds. “I’m on the fence about who’s going to win Survivor.”

  He laughed. Out loud. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had gotten him to do that. And then his eyes betrayed him by roaming down to the low-cut neckline of her dress. A dress she didn’t appear comfortable wearing—which only made her more attractive. He took in her tanned, toned arms, watched her drink her ale like it was water and knew without a doubt he’d find her outside doing something physical rather than indoors painting her nails. Which, he noticed, were void of color.

  He was about to offer his Survivor prediction when his sense of smell drew him to the entrance of the bar. Dane strolled in, looking tenser than he had earlier in the day. His mouth was drawn tight, his thick eyebrows furrowed. Did he have news about Trey?

  So far, Hugh’s inquiries into Trey’s whereabouts had turned up little. News of the Wolf Seekers initiating a fight continued to circulate, and in light of Trey’s absence, the talk was taken seriously this time. The Seekers had never resorted to abduction before, but Hugh wouldn’t put it past them.

  “A friend of yours?” Tess asked, probably wondering what had led his eyes elsewhere.

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t mind if you want to go talk to him.” A hint of disappointment sounded in her voice.

  “I’ll just be a minute.” He’d told Dane where he’d be tonight and that if anything important came up to let him know right away. He’d meant by call or text, but far be it for Dane to keep his nose out of Hugh’s business.

  Before he could get up, though, Dane located his position and took quick strides to the table. His gaze darted to Tess before he spoke.

  The flash of appreciation Hugh saw in Dane’s eyes as he glanced at Tess sent a jolt of anger through him. His jaw clenched. Sensations he didn’t know existed riled his stomach.

  “Hey. Sorry to interrupt your date…Trey. But I need to have a few words with you.”

  Tess didn’t hesitate to slide out of the way to make room for Dane. “I’ll just go use the ladies room.” She smiled at Hugh as she left, but made no effort to hide her scrutiny of Dane.

  Hugh’s interest in her just shot through the roof.

  “What is it?” he barked. For fuck’s sake, he didn’t do interest.

  Dane took the vacated spot across the table. “I’ve got a lead on where Trey might be. It’s a warehouse not far from here. A couple of guys from the Westside told me they’d gotten wind of a kidnapping. It seems the Wolf Seekers aren’t trying to keep a low profile.”

  “Is it within walking distance?”

  “Yeah. About five blocks.”

  “Give me a few minutes to finish things with Tess and we’ll go.”

  “Did she have any useful information?” Dane’s doubtful tone told him he already knew the answer.

  Hugh had grown up with Dane, the two only a year apart in age, and he’d never liked his condescending attitude. “I’m not sure yet. She might know something she doesn’t realize can help us. I’m thinking about telling her I’m not Trey.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “The fewer people that know about Trey’s disappearance, the better.”

  He had a point, but Hugh’s gut told him he could trust Tess. And more importantly, he couldn’t say goodbye to her under false pretenses. Not if he wanted to see her again.

  Did he want to see her again? Hell.

  Dane narrowed his eyes. “Don’t do it. You came here for one reason and one reason only. To get information. Cut her loose.”

  For their entire lives, he and Dane had offered each other advice. Nine times out of ten, they each did the opposite. It was a pride thing. An I-know-better-than-you rivalry that existed even though
Hugh was in charge of the pack now. But as much as he hated to take the advice, Dane was right. This wasn’t a real date. It was a means to an end. He needed to keep up the charade and stop enjoying himself.

  “Have a seat at the bar and I’ll be ready in five.”

  Sliding from the seat, Dane said, “I’ll give you ten.”

  Asshole.

  He watched Dane leave and wondered if push came to shove whether Dane would remain loyal. He’d made no secret of his anger where Trey was concerned. Dane thought he deserved to be next in line to lead the pack. But before Hugh could give any more thought to that, a flash of blue caught his attention.

  The dress Tess wore hugged her body like a second skin. While most men might find her walk unladylike, he found it sexy as sin. The way she moved sent a surge of desire straight to his cock. He pictured himself pulling the tie in front of the dress and unraveling the wraparound design. Pictured her beneath him. Naked. Writhing with pleasure while he sank inside her, again and again.

  Stop. He needed to put a halt to the lust bubbling inside him, but goddammit, just glancing at her made him hot.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, her shoulders looking provocative as they moved back and forth when she sat.

  Shoulders, for fuck’s sake.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Are you sure? Because you look a little funny.”

  “Yes, but I need to cut our date short.” Not want. Need. He stupidly wanted to spend more time with her. Blue eyes that had pierced him with eagerness and warmth now dulled to a muted shade of gray.

  “Oh,” she said, those sexy shoulders slumping. “I see.”

  It pained him to hear her sound so dejected. He wasn’t rejecting her. “What do you see?”

  She threw her head back and laughed as if she didn’t give a shit. “I guess I failed at the blind date. You had your friend come in to bail you out if you weren’t having a good time. I get it. That’s okay. I’m—”

  “That’s not—”

  “ —fine with that. Really. It’s no big deal.” She opened her purse, pulled out a few dollars and slapped them on the table.

  Hugh reached out and covered her hand with his. “That’s not what’s happening here.” Wicked-good vibrations shot up his arm and swarmed every inch of his flesh. His breath hitched. He locked eyes with her, and for a moment time stood still.