Melinda's Wolves

by Becca Jameson

  “And you don’t know when or what.” Rebecca knew from her own experience heeding Melinda’s advice that one could question Melinda until they were blue in the face, and it would change nothing. Fate had Her plan. Nothing would stop Her.

  “Exactly. Try telling Trace and Keegan that.” She rolled her eyes and then tucked her cheek against the baby’s and inhaled her sweet smell again. “God I love babies.”

  Miles chuckled. “Guess you can get one of your own now.”

  “Lord, not yet. I’ve hardly accepted the logistics of this mating. The last thing I need is to get pregnant.” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she spoke. The reality was she and her mates hadn’t discussed the possibility of pregnancy a single time.

  She prayed her mates were respectful enough to have used condoms if Melinda were ovulating. The males in her species could scent when a woman was able to get pregnant. Few females were capable of singling out such an intricately specific scent indicator.

  Though Mimi probably is.

  And chances were Melinda could probably hone the skill herself now that she was mated and had actually had sex. No one alive knew—until she shared with her mates the other night—that she’d been a virgin. That had severely dampened her ability to identify such specific scents.

  “You doing okay?” Rebecca asked. “You’re quiet over there.”

  “Just thinking.” Melinda gave the rocker another push and closed her eyes.

  •●•

  Keegan and Mitch poured over every inch of paperwork associated with the original inspections done on the casino. So far they had found very little evidence to indicate anyone knew there was anything shoddy occurring.

  “Look at this file,” Keegan said as he lifted it into the air. It was labeled CONCRETE.

  “What is it?”

  “What it is—is empty.” Keegan turned it over. Not a single paper was inside. He thumbed through the rest of the files and found four others like it. All suspiciously involved in the building materials aspect of the site.

  Mitch looked in the drawer and furrowed his brow. “This can’t be good.”

  “Exactly. And my question is when did these files disappear? They were there last week. I’ve only been assigned to this job a few weeks, but I would have noticed if any of the files were missing. And so far I’ve found nothing in the computer to back up the files. Surely these weren’t the only copies.”

  “Shit.” Mitch righted himself and paced the office again. It was becoming a habit. The man was worried, and he often nervously paced around, running his hand through his hair. “Maybe someone else has the files for some reason?”

  “Who would that be?”

  Mitch shrugged. “No idea, but I can’t stomach the alternative.”

  “Me either.” Keegan leaned back in his chair.

  “How about if I work on locating the previous inspector while you continue combing the files? We need to find someone who knows what happened.”

  “Good plan.” Keegan exhaled a long breath as he turned back to the file cabinet.

  Mitch headed around the desk to the other side and opened his computer.

  Thank God Keegan wasn’t dealing with this insanity by himself. Even though he usually preferred to work alone, having his boss around in this case was a relief.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Trace watched his mate from across the room as she tipped her head back and laughed at something his boss said to her.

  Under normal circumstances he would be jealous, but there was nothing normal about this arrangement. Chief Bergman knew the score. Most of the detectives on the force were human. But Terrance Bergman was not.

  The second Melinda arrived at the station that afternoon, Bergman had grinned. Without a word, he slapped Trace on the shoulder and muttered words of congratulations. No way would the man even come close to hitting on Melinda.

  And besides, the pheromones Melinda emitted were strictly reserved for Trace and Keegan. It was Nature’s way. His woman smelled fantastic, but that scent would only attract her mates. No one else would find it so intoxicating.

  When she’d stepped into the station in a short sundress, a sweater slung over her arm, his jaw dropped. The dress was sexy as hell, and he liked knowing he had easy access to what lay beneath. But he also nearly groaned with the knowledge that her pussy was wet and silky and so easily accessible.

  “Since when do you have a serious girlfriend?” The teasing voice from behind Trace made him turn his head. Mark—a human guy he’d worked with on several projects for the last year—had his gaze on Melinda, appraising her from top to bottom.

  If the man had been lupine, Trace would have slammed him into the wall and taken a chunk out of him by gouging his face. But Mark knew nothing of their species, so Trace swallowed his displeasure and responded amicably. “A while.” The vague answer would suffice. Especially since Mark still hadn’t taken his eyes off Melinda long enough to glance at Trace. Why on earth human men accepted such blatantly disrespectful behavior was beyond him. But he’d witnessed it his entire life. It seemed as though men thought it was a compliment to their fellow brethren if they openly admired their women as though they were a fine piece of ass.

  “She’s hot.” Finally he grinned at Trace. “You stud.”

  Trace narrowed his gaze, not returning the smile. In nearly every encounter with regular human population, it was possible for shifters to keep themselves in check. After all, it was important to the survival of their species. But Trace had never had to deal with someone hitting on his mate before. Or ogling her. Or even thinking about hitting on or ogling her.

  It didn’t sit well. Trace fought to control his desire to punch the guy. “You can stop drooling over her now. She’s taken.” Claimed.

  “Taken? You can’t possibly have known her that long. I’ve never seen her before.” He jerked his gaze back to Melinda. “That long black hair must be like spun silk running through your fingers.”

  It was. And the fury Trace felt rose to a new level. “You’ll never know.”

  Mark turned back again, chuckling. He set a file he held on the edge of Trace’s desk. “Relax, man. I’m playin’ with you.” He cocked his head to one side and narrowed his gaze. “You must really be into her. How long did you say you’ve been dating?”

  “Long enough.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “It is,” he said, knowing full well how complicated this situation was. It wasn’t as if he could announce to everyone he worked with that he shared Melinda with another man.

  Mark’s face went slack. “Really? Awesome. I’ve always thought you were kind of a loner. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks,” Trace mumbled. He took a seat at his desk and opened the file, anxious for Mark to get the hell out of the room so Trace could bring his blood pressure under control. He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his fist on the desktop.

  Melinda jerked her gaze to his, a frown on her face. She gave a subtle shake of her head. “Do you trust me?” she asked through their connection from across the room.

  He flinched. What the hell kind of question was that? “Of course.”

  “Then put your claws away, and don’t let that guy get to you, whoever he is. We covered this ground this morning. I’m yours. It’s established. Doesn’t matter what your coworkers or anyone else think. They don’t stand a chance with me.”

  She was right. But Trace still felt combative. “He undressed you with his gaze and drooled over you from across the room. I’m surprised you didn’t get hit by the spittle from there.”

  She smiled, shook her head, rolled her eyes, and turned back to say something to Terrance. And then she came straight toward Trace, her smile too big, her eyes too bright. When she reached his side, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “He can look all he wants. He can pretend to know what’s under my dress too. But his hands will never be on my bare skin in this lifetime or the next. Yours will. And furthermore, you have the added
benefit of knowing that no man’s hands have ever been on me. There will never be anyone anywhere that will cause you to wonder if he’s slept with me or so much as touched me. Put your claws away.” She finished by kissing his ear and stepping back to sit in a chair next to his desk.

  Trace’s cock was at attention from her lips so close to him—the words she’d spoken making him almost moan. And she smelled so fucking fantastic, like the fruity soap she’d used in the shower and the shampoo that matched the body soap.

  She was right. He was a lucky bastard and he needed to get his head on straight. Let the other guys look. That was all they would ever get out of it. He lifted his gaze to scan the room. Sure enough, several eyes were on his mate. His mate. Not theirs. His frown turned into a smirk. No one in this room had ever had the opportunity to see his mate naked or touch her sweet nipples or clit. And they never would.

  Mine.

  “And mine.” Keegan chuckled into his head. “Problems? I can feel you as if you’re in the room with me. You gonna hit someone?”

  “Nope. I thought about it, but our mate talked me down. Do you know how fucking sexy she is?”

  Keegan chuckled into his head. “I’m aware.”

  “Everyone in the building is staring at her as if she were fresh meat.”

  “Yeah, I experienced a little of that yesterday. Ignore them. They don’t get to slide into her tonight.”

  Trace was shocked. “How many of the men you work with are humans?”

  “About half.”

  That explained it. The shifters would give a passing glance of approval, but only rarely more than that. They knew the stakes. They understood how Fate worked. Melinda was claimed. No sense wasting time drooling over her.

  And besides, the way pheromones worked within the shifter community, no other wolf would find Melinda as attractive as he and Keegan did. It was the way of shifters. Fate organized it perfectly.

  Humans, however, were a different story. They couldn’t scent the bond between wolf mates. They had no idea how very taken Melinda was. They could be annoying at times, but it wouldn’t change anything.

  Trace turned to look at Melinda. She was glowing. Her cheeks were pink. She had a twinkle in her eyes. And the smile on her lips never quite went away.

  I did that to her.

  “I may have helped,” Keegan interjected. “Gotta get back to work.”

  “Any more news about that email?”

  “Not yet. But the more I dig, the more it gets validated. This morning the shit has hit the fan. My boss is here. We’re digging into things.”

  “You have time to talk?” Trace wanted to chat out loud for a minute. This was serious.

  “Only a few minutes.”

  Trace grabbed his cell and called Keegan.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Hey.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “It is. It doesn’t look good. The foundation may have to be scrapped and re-poured. The concrete was subpar, even by last year’s standards before the quake. Now, it’s total rubbish. And I’m worried about who knows this and what their MO is. If the developer is aware of the corners that were cut, we may be in over our heads.”

  Trace leaned back in his chair. He could feel Melinda inching closer to him from behind until her hand landed on his shoulder. He twisted his neck to look at her as he spoke to Keegan. “Somebody’s going to get in a heap of trouble. Perhaps several people.” He didn’t want to say any more out loud in the middle of the precinct, so he held the phone to his ear while he spoke into Keegan’s head. “If the developer is in on this shit storm, you’re in a fuck of a mess there. Have you called the sheriff’s office on the rez?”

  “Not yet. But we’re getting close. Right now, all we have is an email from an unknown source. Mitch is trying to locate the original inspector, and then we’re calling everyone in who worked on the site, but it’s going to take some time. It’s been a year. Some of the original construction workers are no longer living in the area. When the project was put on hold, they were forced to seek new jobs, often in other towns.”

  “What a disaster.”

  “Yeah. Thank God my job is to make sure the work is done right from here on out. Glad I’m not on the legal end of things. Somebody’s going to be forced to fork up some big bucks to make this right.”

  “Be careful. You could be venturing into dangerous territory. If anyone suspects halting or backtracking the progress of that construction is your fault, they could retaliate. I wouldn’t let it get out that you’re investigating this yet.” He chose his words carefully since Melinda was listening.

  She inhaled sharply anyway, her fingers digging into his shoulder.

  Chief Bergman headed toward Trace.

  “Gotta go. Let me know how things are going later.” He would talk more with Keegan about safety when Melinda wasn’t listening.

  “’K.” Keegan disconnected.

  Trace lifted his gaze to Bergman’s. The man’s face was grim. “I need you to do some research on this guy.” Bergman handed him a Post-it.

  Trace nodded and tugged his laptop closer. “Anything particular I’m looking for?”

  Bergman glanced at Melinda before he continued in a lower voice. “Some kids on the reservation found his body beside the lake this morning.”

  Trace felt Melinda stiffen before she gasped.

  Bergman lifted his gaze to Melinda. “Sorry to be so blunt.” He turned back to Trace. “He’s Caucasian. And human,” his boss added in a soft whisper before he continued. “The deputies on the rez are on the scene. I’m sending a few guys over now.”

  “How did we get involved?” Trace asked.

  “The address on his driver’s license is in Cambridge. The sheriff on the reservation called me this morning. He’s sending a man here. I’m sending two of ours to the scene.”

  “How awful,” Melinda muttered.

  Trace agreed. Cambridge and Sojourn were both small towns. They were forty minutes apart, but there wasn’t a whole lot in between them. It was rare for any significant crime to occur. It had been several years since anyone had been murdered in either town.

  “I’ll see what I can find out.” Trace grabbed his mouse and began his search. And it didn’t take long for him to sit up straight and pay closer attention.

  Nolan Friedmont. The guy seemed ordinary enough. Until Trace dug deeper. He lived in Cambridge in a ski-side cabin that was more of an estate than anything else. He’d purchased the property ten months ago, which was all well and good except he didn’t make enough money to afford such a home.

  What really made Trace pay closer attention was the man had been a construction worker at the very casino now under investigation for cutting corners. He hadn’t worked since the earthquake, and yet he’d continued to make the enormous payments on his mortgage—a mortgage he couldn’t possibly have afforded in the first place with his income. Even though he’d been one of the head honchos under the foreman in charge at the site, he hadn’t made nearly enough money to cover that mansion.

  At least not over the table.

  Fuck.

  Trace glanced at Melinda. He’d hovered over his computer for so long, he’d managed to stuff her presence to the back of his mind. Impressive. And the look on her face told him she was amused by his ability to ignore her.

  She held her bottom lip between her teeth, a grin spreading her cheeks wide. Her eyes twinkled with mirth. “Must be fascinating research,” she teased. Her legs were tucked under her, and she held a Kindle in her hand.

  Good. At least she hadn’t been reading over his shoulder. If she had, she wouldn’t be so calm.

  “You can’t imagine,” he mumbled, shutting down his computer and grabbing a stack of pages from the printer under his desk. He’d printed out a large stack throughout the afternoon. He glanced at his watch and winced. “We should go home.”

  Trace glanced around the room. His boss was already gone for the day. Besides, Trace really wanted to tal
k to Keegan before he spoke to Bergman. There was no longer any doubt in Trace’s mind that as soon as he got someone to go over and search the computer in Nolan Friedmont’s home, he’d find a recent email sent to the one and only Keegan Phillips.

  The idea made his skin crawl. If someone killed Friedmont because he ratted out the developer, Keegan’s life was in more danger than Trace had alluded earlier.

  •●•

  It was after dark before Melinda parked in Keegan’s driveway behind Trace. She watched Trace climb down from his black truck in front of her.

  She had no idea what propelled her to stay at the station so long with Trace. At any point she could have insisted she needed to go home. But he’d been so tense and intent she hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Plus, she got the vibe he might need her calming presence at his back as he worked.

  She wondered if he always got so stressed and focused or if the research over that particular man found dead earlier in the day made him inordinately tense.

  Keegan’s immaculate white truck was already in the driveway, and he opened the front door to greet them as Melinda climbed the two steps to the porch.

  Keegan immediately pulled her into his embrace and buried his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply, his hand cupping her ass. “Missed you.”

  She lifted her chin for a quick kiss.

  “Did you miss me too?” Trace asked, chuckling.

  “Eh. Not as much.”

  Trace gave Keegan a shove as they entered the house.

  Melinda moaned. “God, it smells good in here. What are you cooking? I’m starving.” She hadn’t eaten since the sandwiches Trace ordered for lunch.

  After the most boring day of her life, she needed food and sleep. Doing nothing made a person very tired.

  She also needed to let these brutes know her days of trailing them around were over. She intended to go back to work tomorrow whether they liked it or not.

  “Stir fry.” Keegan tugged her into the kitchen by the hand while he spoke to Trace. “What happened to you today? You were in such deep concentration I couldn’t get a single read on you.” He released her to grab a spatula and push around the contents of a steaming wok.