Wolf Shield Investigations: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

She hadn’t expected to sleep so well. In fact, when she’d gone to bed, she hadn’t expected to sleep at all. She hadn’t even wanted to go to bed in the first place. Instead, she’d planned on sitting up on the couch, the lights blazing, the TV on at least until Sledge came back.

  It had been Kara’s gentle insistence that she at least try to go to bed that had finally persuaded Marnie to give it a shot. “There’s no telling when he’ll be back,” Kara had reminded her more than once. “And you know he’ll be annoyed if he finds out you were waiting up for him.”

  Annoyed. That was an interesting word. Would he be annoyed to find her awake, waiting? Seeing her, dealing with her? Or would it have been because he wanted her to get some rest?

  There was no way of knowing, but she couldn’t help wondering if it was the former rather than the latter. She decided she didn’t want to hang around and find out. It would have been beyond humiliating if he’d come in and scowled on seeing her.

  Even then, she’d figured she would spend part of the night waiting up for him in bed, listening for his arrival. She told herself at the time that she’d let herself sleep once she knew he was there.

  What she hadn’t counted on was how comfortable the bed was and how exhausted she was after the events of the last several days. By the time her head had hit the pillow, she was already practically unconscious. If she hadn’t liked Kara so much, if she didn’t know of Kara’s past with the group, she might’ve worried that she’d been drugged.

  No, drugs weren’t involved. Just flat-out exhaustion, both physical and emotional. It had been years since she’d known that sort of exhaustion, back when she’d spent hours on end sitting at her mother’s bedside in spite of the nurses urging her to take care of herself.

  Now, sitting up and stretching her arms above her head, she felt… decent. No, more than decent. She actually felt pretty good.

  And instantly, guilt touched her heart and turned it icy. What was wrong with her? How could she feel good after this nightmare that seemed like it would never stop unfolding was getting worse all the time?

  Dan was dead now, probably in pieces—she could only imagine based on what she’d heard.

  Beth’s parents were probably preparing to bury their daughter, and she couldn’t be there to say goodbye one last time.

  Yet here she was, breathing in the morning air and feeling bright and sharp for the first time in ages. Was there something broken in her? There had to be. This couldn’t be right.

  She threw her legs over the side of the bed—the perfect mix of soft and firm, covered in the most luxurious linens she’d ever touched—and went to the small bathroom attached to the bedroom where her toiletries and things were still packed up. Unpacking had seemed like too big a hill to climb.

  Unpacking also meant the assumption that a person was going to be spending a lot of time wherever they were. While this was a nice little house in a nice area, she couldn’t see settling in. That would feel like giving up, letting the bad guys win. No way was she about to do that without at least putting up a fight—even if all she could do at that moment was refuse to unpack.

  It was childish, probably even stupid. She needed something to hold onto, something to help her feel like there was some measure of control she could exert over the situation, like she could make choices for herself still even though so much of her life—of her existence—was currently dictated by a group of men who’d been strangers only days ago.

  She caught her gaze in the mirror as she brushed her teeth and noted the flush that covered her cheeks. Even now, just thinking about him, Sledge made her flush all over. It was the sort of flush she normally got after a glass of wine. Come to think of it, she usually got giddy and made poor choices after wine too.

  The man was essentially a walking wine bottle to somebody like her. Intoxicating, liable to lead to bad choices even if the results of those choices seemed fun and innocent at the time.

  There was nothing innocent about him or about anything he’d lead to. Then again, she’d spent practically her entire life analyzing every choice, every move, and there’d been more than enough innocence throughout all of it. Enough to last two lifetimes.

  “Ridiculous,” she sighed, shaking her head at herself. She was fooling herself into thinking something existed when it didn’t. The only thing waiting for her at the end of that train of thought was heartbreak. There was enough going on lately to break her heart—she didn’t need to make life even more painful.

  That was exactly the thought running through her head when she opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the sunny, cheerful living room.

  And found Sledge asleep on the couch.

  The surprise alone was enough to take her breath away.

  Surprise quickly gave way to something else, something just as capable of leaving her breathless. She’d only seen him at his strongest, his most capable, when he was in charge of himself and everything around him.

  That version of Sledge was not the version waiting for her on the couch, his long body stretched out, the muscles in his face relaxed, softer now that he was resting. She never would’ve expected him to look younger in sleep, but there he was. He could’ve passed for a teenager.

  A ridiculously developed teenager. A teenager more muscular than any teenager had reason to be.

  He hadn’t stirred when she entered—he was either very good at pretending, or he was really and truly out cold. She hoped it was deep sleep that left him the way he was because she was greedy for these quiet moments. She could observe him now without fearing him taking notice. She didn’t have to warn herself against staring. He was beautiful, a work of art. Art needed to be appreciated, didn’t it?

  And she appreciated him, every line, every curve. The flat planes of his cheeks, covered in stubble. His hard, square-cut jaw. The cleft in his chin. The thick, dark hair that grazed his shoulders. He was on his side, facing her, his arms folded in front of him—arms the strength of which she knew very well. A gentle, pleasant sort of warmth tickled her core when she imagined lying down with him, her back to his front, his arms wrapped around her.

  For the second time since she’d known him, she wished she could capture him at this moment. Vulnerable, peaceful. She was afraid to breathe, afraid to break the spell of watching him sleep as sunlight caressed his face the way she wanted to do with her fingers. He was hers at this moment, only hers, and the depth of her longing was almost painful.

  When he stirred, she jumped like she’d been electrocuted. She looked wildly back and forth, looking for something to do, something that would make it seem less stalkerish for her to be standing there, staring at him. An old magazine on the coffee table caught her eye, and she snatched it up and flipped it open before Sledge’s eyes opened.

  “Good morning,” she murmured, trying to sound distracted.

  He grunted, rubbing his eyes with his fists. “Yeah, good morning. What time is it?”

  “Eight-thirty. I don’t think I’ve slept this late in years.”

  “Same here,” he muttered. She couldn’t help but watch from the corner of her eye as he stretched, yawning. “Though I didn’t get to sleep until the middle of the night. I don’t even remember what time it was.”

  She perched at the end of the couch, away from his feet. “What time did you get back?” Did that sound like she was trying to start an argument? She hoped not, though she did sort of resent the fact that he’d been out so late.

  “Why? Are you gonna get on my case?” Her head snapped up, anger bubbling in her chest, but she found him grinning. “We had some work to do at headquarters. I kept Kara aware.”

  Wow, she was so close to biting his head off too like she was a jealous girlfriend all of a sudden wanting to know where her boyfriend had been all night. There was no reason to be that way.

  “Oh,” she muttered, flipping to the next page in the magazine. Not like she’d read or noticed anything so far, but she wanted a reason to keep her eyes downcast. “She didn’t
keep me aware.”

  “Did you miss me?” He sat up, and the illusion shattered. He wasn’t that helpless, vulnerable person anymore. He was a tower of muscle. It made her a little sad, losing that special moment, but how special could it have been when he was unaware of it?

  “No,” she replied, defensive. “But it is nice to have you around. You know, in case stray bullets start flying through the window.”

  “Is that all I am to you? A walking, talking bulletproof vest?” He wasn’t joking anymore, his grin more like a grimace.

  “Oh, my God. Of course not. Don’t get that idea into your head.”

  “Well, I can’t imagine how I would have.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” she insisted. “But you make me feel more secure. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Of course not. I don’t know why I’m feeling so sensitive right now. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” She guessed that was as close to an apology as she’d get, though he had nothing to apologize for. Neither of them did. They were both overreacting, worn out, overwhelmed. It was easy to forget that even someone like him could get overwhelmed.

  She reached around in her head, trying to find something she could use to change the subject. “You never did tell me who lives around here. It’s such a nice area.”

  “It is. It’s… not heavily populated.” He looked away.

  “What are you saying? Nobody lives here?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

  “But it’s so nice. I saw bikes outside.”

  “Sure. That’s the way it’s supposed to look. Inhabited.”

  She sat back hard against the cushions. “You’re saying this is all staged? Who possibly has the time and resources to do something like that?”

  His brows drew together. “Seriously? Do we strike you as amateurs? You saw the equipment we installed at the house.”

  “But that’s one thing. Buying all these houses…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Sledge snickered. “We do this to keep our clients safe if they need someplace to go. And here you are.”

  Yes, there she was. In a ghost town or as good as. She wondered if this area was truly safe, whether anybody knew of its existence—it wasn’t like they were in the middle of nowhere, as there were more houses in other cul-de-sacs nearby—but decided against voicing her question. He would take it as doubt, distrust, and she didn’t want that.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked, his voice softer than before. She almost wished he wouldn’t talk to her that way, in that tone of voice. It was too tempting to imagine him being someone he wasn’t, feeling things he didn’t feel. Was she really so starved for affection and attention? She’d never imagined herself being this way, but then she’d never given much thought to this sort of thing, either.

  “Shamefully well,” she admitted.

  “Why shamefully?”

  “Come on. Obviously, I’m going to feel guilty.”

  The blank expression he wore told her it wasn’t so obvious to him. “Why? Why feel bad for sleeping?”

  “Because people are dead, Sledge. Dan died yesterday. Zane could’ve died with him.” He seemed to flinch when she said it, but at least it looked like he was getting the picture. She’d gotten through to him, at least a little.

  Or maybe not. Maybe not nearly as much as she thought she did. “So, what? You’re not allowed to sleep now? Because people died? You do realize that people die every day, right?”

  “This is hardly the same thing. I don’t have something to do with everybody who dies. Just these people.”

  “None of it is your fault. You can’t deny yourself everything—sleep, comfort, rest, relaxation, any of it. It’s not going to bring them back.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. There she was, wearing a tank top and shorts, wishing she’d put on something a little more substantial. Rather than standing there watching him sleep like a creeper, she should’ve put on some actual clothes.

  “I never said I expected to bring them back,” she reminded him, maybe a little snappier than she should’ve been. “But I can’t help thinking about them, their families, the people who loved them. Do you know what it’s like to lose somebody you love?”

  “I think there’s a certain point in everybody’s life, a certain age we reach, where it’s inevitable. You’re going to lose people.”

  “That doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” he admitted in a soft voice. “But things happen to all of us. Things we could never have imagined. Things we would never choose for ourselves. We go through them because we don’t have a choice, and even when we think we’ll never be able to get through it, we do. We find a way. You’re that sort of person—I believe it. You’ll find a way.”

  “You sound like you know what you’re talking about,” she observed, studying him. Raw sensuality aside, he fascinated her. For someone so young—he couldn’t be much older than her—he sounded and acted like someone who’d seen more of the world and what it was capable of than anyone their age ever should.

  “Maybe I do,” he shrugged. “I know a lot about what life can hand a person. It’s cruel sometimes. Cruel and stupid. And there are cruel, stupid people who make things even worse. The sort of people you’re dealing with now. We’ve talked a lot about this, the team and me. It’s obvious to us that whoever is behind this thinks they’re doing the right thing. They honestly believe they’re on the right side of history because they know how to justify even the most unthinkable, terrible things. It’s sick. Like an actual illness. And they spread that illness. They infect innocent people with it.”

  She shivered but not because of the chill in the air. Kara must’ve turned the air conditioning way down. Still, that wasn’t it. The goosebumps on her arms and legs had nothing to do with an overworked air conditioning system.

  He noticed her shivering, and the way he winced told her she must look upset. She wasn’t upset—troubled, maybe, all because of him. She felt sorry for him because clearly he knew what he was talking about. He spoke like he’d been through awful things. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She shook her head, and the swishing of her ponytail reminded her that she hadn’t brushed her hair after getting out of bed. Just one more way she hadn’t prepared herself for the chance of seeing him that morning.

  At least she’d brushed her teeth.

  “You didn’t. Honestly, you didn’t. You hit the nail on the head—this is just how it is. I’m sorry you had to deal with people like the ones I’m dealing with now. I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

  He shrugged it off, though there was a haunted look about his eyes. “Look at it this way. If I hadn’t dealt with it, I wouldn’t be here to help you.”

  “What does that mean? What did the two things have to do with each other?”

  “I’ll tell you about it someday.”

  “You keep saying things like that. You’ll tell me about it at some point in the future. It’s infuriating.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but my top priority isn’t keeping you from being infuriated. It’s keeping you alive and well.” He looked her up and down, very clearly taking a tour of her shivering body. “If you don’t mind my saying, it looks like I’m doing my job pretty well from where I’m sitting.”

  She could’ve cursed her body for betraying her, a delicious little thrill running up and down her spine. Every part of her that his eyes touched tingled. This was wrong. It was completely inappropriate, and neither of them should’ve been thinking along those lines.

  Did that stop her from leaning in when he did, mirroring his movement? Did that keep her from catching his mouth, letting her lips slide against his before opening them to let his tongue invade her?

  It was time to stop caring about what was appropriate. She’d cheated death twice now and had lost everyone who’d ever meant anything—her parents, Beth. The world was falling to pieces. If she faced her final mome
nts later that very day, she would’ve hated herself for letting an opportunity for pleasure and joy to pass her by in the interest of what was appropriate.

  That was why she finally allowed herself to run her fingers through his hair—soft, thick, and her touch made him shiver and growl. It was just about enough to make her heart stop. Never, ever would she have imagined the pleasure and pride in knowing what she could do to him.

  He groaned, his hands running up and down her back in a slow, sensual dance. She gasped, arching, breaking the kiss to let her head fall back. He was undoing her, bit by bit, breaking down every wall, every shred of what she’d spent years building up around herself to keep her safe and strong and protected. Now, she understood it was a waste of time because this was what mattered. This was what she wanted, what she craved.

  His breath caressed her throat before his lips touched her skin. Her fingers curled, clawing at his shoulders and biceps, tiny whimpers and sighs escaping while he took his time exploring her, unraveling her, turning her into someone as far away from who she’d imagined herself to be as the Earth was from the sun.

  And she loved it. She needed more.

  When he lowered her to the couch, she opened her thighs and sighed in relief when he settled between them. It was so right, every kiss and every touch and his weight over her. Whatever was in him that made him who he was—that deep, dark, almost scary energy he sometimes tapped into and revealed to her—connected with whatever was in her. Maybe something darker and needier than what she was aware of before then.

  “Yes,” she sighed, eyes sliding closed. “Yes.”

  “Oh, no.”

  Her eyes flew open, her body clenching around Sledge’s when she realized they weren’t alone anymore. She looked toward the front door from the corner of her eye and just about died of humiliation at the sight of Jace and Kara standing there, paper bags in their arms.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Sorry about that.” Jace grimaced. “That was bad timing.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” Sledge muttered, slamming groceries into the cabinet and fridge. “No offense, but your timing is shit.”