by Terry Spear
“But he tied you up.” Meara righted the couch cushions.
“With… nothing that hurt. And he was trying to keep me from injuring him. I imagine he’ll have a few bruises, but our werewolf genes heal them quickly.” Anna grinned at her and headed for the bedroom.
Meara followed her in there. Anna probably considered the confrontation between herself and Imposter Joe to be nothing more than a good workout.
Meara stared at the two pairs of black sheer panty-hose lying in a pile on the bed and the black silk scarf near the footboard. “He tied you up with your own clothes?” But not just with Anna’s own clothes. With her sexy, sheer panty hose.
Anna grabbed them and threw them in her suitcase, which was lying on the floor on the other side of the bed. Anna’s clothes were strewn all over the pale blue carpet.
“I wasn’t easy on him when he tried to confine me. We usually go into a situation packing light. If we can, we use the other’s possessions like this so we don’t leave any evidence behind.” Anna began to gather her clothes: black lace panties, black leather miniskirt, strapless black heels, and a black negligee.
Meara would have thought Anna was goth because of all the black clothes, but she didn’t have any piercings or heavy makeup, and her hair was a rich auburn color. Not that werewolves would have any piercings or wear heavy makeup. It just wasn’t done. Meara could just imagine seeing one panting as a wolf—the only way to cool off since wolves don’t sweat—with a miniature diamond barbell centered on the wolf’s tongue.
That would be easy to explain to a hunter if one caught a werewolf in wolf form. Not.
Meara’s gaze swung back to Anna, and she asked, “Did you… knee him in the crotch?”
Meara had intended to, or at least to swing her leg up between his to incapacitate him, until he’d kissed her and turned her to stone.
Anna harrumphed in a dark way. “Tried to, but he was damned quick and seemed to know what I was going to do before I attempted to retaliate.”
Just like he seemed to know what Meara was thinking when she worried he might hold a gun on her and try to force her outside.
“Did you try to knee him in the crotch?” Anna asked, her brows raised.
Meara felt her face grow warm, which irritated her. She wasn’t about to tell Anna that Joe had kissed her and that she hadn’t done anything about it, like slap him or something. At the same time, she hadn’t kissed him back.
“Hmm,” Anna said, as if she’d just witnessed some deep, dark secret. The intense gaze of a wolf gave others the impression he or she had the ability to see into a person’s soul—and right now, Meara felt as though Anna had done just that.
Anna finished resettling her clothes neatly in her bag and then set it on the luggage rack. “He didn’t catch your interest, did he?” This time she eyed Meara with suspicion.
Was it because Anna was drawn to Joe and worried he might have a thing for Meara? Or was she concerned that Finn might be hurt if Meara threw him over for Joe?
“Of course not,” Meara said too quickly and way too vehemently. Hell, she figured both Joe and Finn were in the same line of work, one where they wouldn’t settle down and take mates. Anna didn’t need to worry about her interest in either man.
“No,” Meara said again, and wished she hadn’t as Anna eyed her speculatively.
Anna pulled the desk chair around and sat down on it while motioning for Meara to sit on the end of the bed. “So then what exactly did happen between the two of you?”
***
Finn had expected to discover that Joe had slipped out a back door through the kitchen of the hotel lounge, but following the man’s scent, Finn found him sitting at a booth in the lounge, watching for him.
Or most likely not for him, but for Meara. Damn it to hell. She had been headed in this direction, following the operative and unconcerned about her own safety, most likely hoping to learn more about him so she could share her findings with Finn. Her impulsiveness would be the death of him.
He blew out his breath and stalked toward the booth. He should have known she wouldn’t stay put in the lobby like he’d told her to do. He should have left her at the safe house.
“I was expecting someone else,” Joe said with a half smile, lifting a beer in greeting. His expression was pure predatory wolf, and Finn had to reign in his combative nature before he took out the bastard.
Finn had seen the way Joe had seemed fascinated with Meara at her cabin, and Joe hadn’t hidden his animosity for Finn, either. He wouldn’t easily forget that the man had stuck his hand in Meara’s pocket, letting her know he was doing so as he left a bug there.
“She’s not coming,” Finn said abruptly.
“I gathered that when you showed up instead.” Joe motioned with his free hand for Finn to join him, although Finn wasn’t waiting for an invitation.
“At Meara’s place, you told her that you didn’t drink,” Finn said, letting Joe know he’d had an eye on him the whole time he’d been in her house.
“I lied. Some women are wary of a man who drinks.”
True enough. Sliding into the booth, Finn asked, “Who are you, and what’s your business?”
“Bjornolf Jorgensen…” He bowed his head slightly. “…at your service.” He gave Finn a look of conceited satisfaction when he saw Finn’s expression change to instant awareness.
“Bjornolf,” Finn said under his breath. Bear-wolf. The person known by that name served as a deep undercover operative, although many thought the man was a legend or a myth rather than someone real. No one was sure who the man really worked for. And he rarely revealed his identity. Many thought that those who bragged about knowing him were telling tales.
“That’s me.” Bjornolf waited for Finn to ask something further, then seeming to remember that Finn had asked what he was doing here, he added, “I’m here to watch your backs.”
“Ours,” Finn said softly.
“Yours, since you’re here, and Hunter’s sister’s.”
“And the others on the team?”
“They were merely a distraction.”
Finn narrowed his eyes. “The assassin nearly killed Allan Rappaport. How is that nothing more than a distraction?”
Bjornolf shrugged. “Fatalities can cause a pretty good distraction.”
Finn’s phone buzzed and he looked at it, noting that Hunter was calling. Finn hoped he wasn’t having trouble in Hawaii—the only reason he could think of for Hunter calling at this hour. He lifted the phone to his ear and asked, “Hunter, can I call you back?”
“What the hell happened, and who’s the guy you’re talking to?”
How in the hell had Hunter gotten word about this already? Meara had to have called him.
Finn studied the man sitting across from him and said to Hunter, “I’m talking with Bjornolf Jorgensen.” He figured Hunter would be just as surprised since the man rarely revealed himself to anyone. Finn wondered who Bjornolf was working for now. “I’ll call you back in a bit. Meara’s safe with Anna Johnson.”
“Call me back ASAP,” Hunter said, his tone short and angry, and hung up on him.
Finn knew Hunter was incensed about the way he had handled the situation with Meara and Anna. It wasn’t the first time Hunter hadn’t liked the way Finn dealt with a situation, nor would it be the last. But there were times when Finn had felt the same way about Hunter’s handling of a mission.
Bjornolf was watching him with an amused expression, and Finn wanted to wipe the arrogant look off his face. Bjornolf was the whole reason Finn would have words with Hunter over this mess. “What if I send Meara to Hawaii to join Hunter?” Finn asked.
Without hesitation, Bjornolf said, “They’ll go after her there.”
Finn couldn’t believe it. “Why her?”
“She’s Hunte
r’s sister.”
Finn scowled at the operative. “I already got that part. But why go after Meara?” he repeated.
“You would have all been dead on your last mission if it hadn’t been for Meara. Didn’t you know that? That’s what this sick bastard intended. But when Meara thwarted him, he vowed revenge. At least I assume that’s the case.
“The fires that burned down Meara and Hunter’s home and those of their pack members? Who do you think set them? Neither Meara nor Hunter were supposed to have escaped that. As luck would have it, the winds were in Meara and Hunter and their pack’s favor. After Hunter and his pack relocated to the Oregon coast, they ran into all kinds of trouble. On top of that, a red pack leader named Leidolf was poking his nose into their business. The man in charge waited for a more opportune time to strike again—a time when fewer pack leaders could cause him trouble.”
Finn straightened taller. “Did Hunter know the fire was set on purpose by someone out to get them?”
“Yes. But he didn’t let Meara know it. Several in the know have been investigating, trying to find a link to the arsonists.”
Finn scowled at Bjornolf. “Meara should have been told. How did Hunter think she could protect herself if she wasn’t aware of the danger to them both?”
“None of us thought it would be carried any further. Possibly it had just been a way of getting back at them. Destroying their homes. Hunter’s pack even mutinied. Quite effectively, the arsonist wreaked havoc on Hunter and his pack, more so than if he’d just eliminated Hunter and Meara. But then, maybe the arsonist didn’t believe they’d been punished enough. Maybe he saw how nicely Hunter and Meara were doing in their new home in Oregon, how Hunter had located a mate and Meara was happily looking for one through renting the cabins.”
“Hell,” Finn said, rubbing his chin and feeling a shadow of a beard making its appearance because of the late hour. He wanted to know what was going on, but he still felt apprehensive about leaving Meara alone, despite Anna being with her.
“As soon as Hunter flew off on his honeymoon, we figure the man in charge made his move, striking at Allan as a distraction, figuring you and Paul would go to his aid and assume he was after the team. Hunter was already out of the picture. I’m sure the head honcho never considered any of you would think to protect Meara. She wasn’t part of the SEAL team.
“Even I was surprised to see you join her here. Thinking none of you would consider Meara as a possible target, I came here. To protect her. Then here you are, claiming the territory for your own—both the land and the woman.” At that revelation, Bjornolf looked and sounded annoyed.
Momentarily stupefied, Finn stared at him. Bjornolf had to be either highly misinformed about their mission and how Meara fit into the scheme of things or pulling his leg. But worse, he wondered just what lengths Bjornolf had planned to go to while protecting Meara. Pretend he truly was Joe Matheson, a guest, interested in finding a mate?
Until he’d discovered Finn had beaten him to it. Well, not as a guest interested in finding a mate, but as her close protection. “They haven’t caught the arsonist who set the fires in the redwoods, but you’re sure he’s connected to Allan’s attack?”
Bjornolf took another swig of his beer, set the mug down, and leaned back against his seat. “No, the arsonist hasn’t been apprehended. But the threat to their lives is too coincidental not to be suspect. Particularly when Allan was hit next.”
Still not believing that Meara could have saved them in any way, shape, or form, Finn said, “Meara had nothing to do with our missions.”
Bjornolf gave a dark laugh. “Oh, really. She fought with Hunter over every job he went on, worried that she’d lose her twin brother and her pack leader at the same time. She berated you every time you returned with Hunter, thinking you were the one who got the contracts for the missions after your team left the Navy.”
Hell, how long had Bjornolf been watching the team behind the scenes? Then a darker thought occurred to Finn. Just how long had he been watching Meara?
Bjornolf continued, “She’s not the sweet little innocent that you think she is. She’s devious, if she thinks she might be able to save Hunter from harm.” A gleam shown in Bjornolf’s darkened eyes. “Or possibly you know that already. She tends to leap into a frothing river to rescue someone from drowning before fully thinking the situation over.”
So, he even knew about that incident in Meara’s past. Finn’s mind raced over the events of the past, of their final doomed mission, the explosive devices that had been tampered with, and Meara’s angry words over their operations. Sure, she was impetuous and would face down danger to protect those in need. But she couldn’t have been involved in their final assignment or any other. Their assignments were classified.
He stared at Bjornolf. “I don’t believe you.”
Bjornolf shrugged. “Believe what you will.”
Finn didn’t like it. He didn’t want to believe Meara had had anything to do with their last mission, that she might have saved their lives, that she could have been endangered because of it, and that she might now be in danger because of something she had done. Was it inadvertent?
He couldn’t believe it.
Bjornolf finished his beer. “If she wasn’t so headstrong, she’d make a good operative. But she’s too stubborn and way too impulsive. She’d be a team all unto her own and happy for it.”
Finn could call her stubborn and too impulsive, and often thought that of her, but he didn’t like Bjornolf doing so. He knew she loved being part of a pack and wasn’t a loner in the least. But he thought Bjornolf was right about her being her own one-man team. She did not take orders well. And for the most part, she didn’t seem to give them, either. So in that regard, she seemed to run the show all on her own, not waiting for anyone else to help.
“What’s your interest in her?” Finn asked gruffly, wanting to get the truth out in the open.
“Suffice it to say I like my women like that.”
His voice low and cold, Finn said, “You leave her alone.”
Bjornolf gave an irritated grunt. “Why? Are you going to settle down and take her as a mate? The great adventurer? The savior of lost causes? She needs someone who warms her bed at night, keeps her content and happy. She’s not the one for you.”
“You think you’re the one for her? Hell, you’re cut from the same cloth as me, from what I’ve heard.”
“Ah,” Bjornolf said, waving away the waitress who’d noticed his mug was empty. “I’ve been thinking of settling down.” He cast Finn a wry smile.
“Like hell you are.” Finn didn’t believe the man. From everything he’d heard, the operative was a loner who preferred undercover work. Settling down wasn’t in the picture.
Then Bjornolf’s expression turned icy. “I was supposed to be watching your backs on your last mission, but I was surprised as hell when Meara got involved, and I missed doing my job. You can’t imagine how much that bothered me when a woman—a civilian—distracted me. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. I’ve been pondering what occurred for these past few months. Maybe there’s something to the way she sidetracked me so thoroughly. What do you think?”
Finn wasn’t sure what to think, wondering if Bjornolf was just leading him on and trying to rile him over Meara. Maybe get him to reveal how intrigued he was with the woman.
Bjornolf didn’t wait for Finn to respond but added, “I regret that the mission was botched and everyone but you was injured in the process.”
Finn raised a brow and Bjornolf chuckled evilly. “I didn’t mean that as it sounded. I was glad you weren’t injured, but no one else should have been hurt, either. I’m not going to let any harm come to her because I owe that to Hunter and to Meara.”
Finn was glad to have Bjornolf on their side—as long as he didn’t try to seduce Meara—but he wondered
about the other Joe they’d seen at the morgue. “Did you kill the man near Meara’s house?”
“Yeah. Took his identity before he arrived. He was pretending to rent one of the cabins, but that wasn’t his identity, either. When he spied me heading for the blue cabin to lie in wait for his arrival—assuming whoever had paid for the contract would eventually learn where Hunter and Meara were—he tried to fire a round at me, and I threw him off the cliff. He still got a couple of rounds off as he made his backward dive. His gun must have found a watery grave.”
For that, Finn was grateful. “No evidence of any foul play.”
Bjornolf gave Finn a sly smile. “That’s what they pay me for. Getting rid of assassins without leaving any trace of wrongdoing.” He leaned back in his seat and changed the focus. “The woman working with you isn’t half bad.”
Not sure what Bjornolf’s intentions were concerning Anna, Finn scowled at him. Anna could handle herself, but Finn still didn’t like that Bjornolf had bested her and then was talking about her like she was someone he might pursue as a side hobby.
Bjornolf added, “She did a good job of taking out the assassin that I’d lost while I tailed another.”
“But you still bested her in her hotel room.”
Bjornolf chuckled. “She’s dangerous. Has killer knees. If I hadn’t moved quickly enough, I’d be singing soprano.”
At that, Finn almost smiled, knowing from workout sessions with her just how dangerous her knees could be. Thankfully, he’d managed to outmaneuver her at every turn. But he still didn’t know Bjornolf’s intentions toward either Anna or Meara. And that bothered him.
“Why has the bastard waited six months to take revenge?” Finn asked.
“For one, he hasn’t waited that long. The fire, remember? And for another, I believe he was injured during the incident when your team was hit or out of the country. Or both. So that slowed him down a bit. Not only that, but some take their time planning revenge. Maybe he’s not the kind who jumps into a situation without mapping every move. Who really knows?”