Undercover Wolf

by Linda O. Johnston

But he remained resolved never to push Kristine to have sex with him, no matter how badly he ached to touch her all over, to bury himself in her. His feral instincts hadn’t taken over completely. He wouldn’t let them, no matter which form he was in.

  And no matter that Kristine had seen him naked, both before and after his shifts so far with the Alpha Force elixir.

  For the sake of learning what was going on with his brother and sister-in-law, he’d follow the rules, at least all he could. He’d act like a good little soldier despite being on an unofficial mission. He’d follow Kristine’s lead wherever it made sense, since she was more experienced.

  At the moment, she was thumbing through a Bar Harbor magazine, though her speed suggested she wasn’t paying much attention to the articles and ads. He turned back toward her. “Is that worth looking at?”

  “We won’t find what we’re looking for in it,” she said with a sigh, her chin raised in its normal challenge to the world. He resisted an urge to touch it.

  “But we might get some ideas of where else to look,” he reminded her. “Like...well, other than Acadia Park itself, are there any wildlife sanctuaries? You know I’m particularly interested in seeing local animals.”

  And trying to learn if there were any kinds that could have attacked those tourists. Especially if those victims had brought it on themselves by purposely getting too close to dangerous wildlife.

  “There is a private conservation easement on some property bordering Acadia.” Kristine turned a few pages and pointed to a description of a local sanctuary. “I’m not sure if anyone can visit, but it’s seeking donations.”

  “Not necessarily helpful, but—”

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” interrupted a gruff male voice over the bus’s loudspeaker. “We’re finally ready to get on our way.”

  Quinn turned back toward the tour guide. He appeared to be in his fifties, with a scruffy salt-and-pepper beard and a green Acadia cap preventing anyone from seeing whether the rest of his hair matched. He wore a gray long-sleeved shirt and coordinated pants that looked vaguely like a uniform, and he wedged a small microphone near his narrow lips.

  “I’m Wendell, your guide today.” He gave a spiel reciting rules and suggestions, then told the bus driver he was ready and they took off.

  The narration was loud and would have been really interesting had Quinn actually been a tourist. In fact, he did look through the windshield toward the sights the guide pointed out—churches and parks and museums, including one specializing in local Native American culture and another focusing on natural history. Some architectural features on buildings were also worth noting. Because this was an island, the coastline appeared now and then; the Atlantic Ocean was brilliant blue beneath a clear sky, and calm that day.

  Finally, they headed toward Acadia National Park. Despite his previous evening visits, that remained the place of most interest to Quinn. Plus, the tour leader got quiet while the driver headed in that direction.

  Quinn felt a light squeeze on his arm. He looked over and saw Kristine’s eyes wide, her full lips pursed slightly, as if she sent him a silent message: it was time.

  He smiled, covered her hand with his—a feigned newlywed gesture—and nodded. He didn’t release her hand, though. He liked the feel of it as he gripped it.

  His body, unsurprisingly, also reacted as if she was doing more than touching his arm.

  Squelching a sigh, he turned back toward the guide.

  But Kristine acted first, squeezing his arm harder as if to communicate something—like, let me—then called to the man across the aisle.

  “Wendell, my new husband and I have planned to come here for our honeymoon for ages—but now we’re a bit worried. We heard about those poor tourists’ deaths in Acadia National Park. They were mauled, weren’t they? Do the authorities know what kind of animal did it?”

  The man looked stricken, hazel eyes huge beneath his scruffy gray brows. He pulled the microphone away from his mouth, clearly not wanting the crowd on the filled bus to hear. His voice was hardly audible over the bus’s growling engine. “No, ma’am, ’fraid they don’t have any answers yet—at least none they’re talking about, though they’re looking. I assure you that we’ll keep all of you close on this tour. No one’ll be hurt.”

  “Thank you so much, Wendell.” Kristine sounded relieved and even a bit flirtatious.

  Maybe she was the better one to take the lead on this. What man wouldn’t try to soothe the concerns of a woman as pretty as her—especially when she turned on her vast charm? She hadn’t done that with him, though. Probably a good thing.

  “But,” she continued, “I read that it could be wolves. Are there wolves in Acadia? I researched the park on the internet and thought that there weren’t any wolves around here now.”

  “That’s right.” Wendell nodded. “Used to be in the past, I’ve heard, but not at present. Could be coyotes or even wild dogs, I suppose, though I’ve never heard of any attacking people before. I’m sure the authorities will figure it out soon. Meantime, we’ll just be extra careful. Ah, here we are.”

  The bus pulled in through a gate, and Wendell talked to the park rangers standing in the booth.

  In a short while, the bus was moving again. The park was an amazing conglomeration of mountains overlooking the ocean, as well as numerous lakes. The vistas were wide. The forests were vast—and could hide any number of wild animals such as those Quinn had sensed last night.

  But most wild animals stayed far from humans, even those that presented possible danger. If they attacked, there had to be a reason like hunger, or fear.

  Considering how lush this area appeared, it probably hid a lot of possible prey, so hunger was unlikely.

  Fear? Maybe. Those tourists could have come across some creature in the wild and baited it in some way—even just out of wildlife-loving curiosity—until it attacked.

  But the most likely scenario, in Quinn’s opinion, was that someone—who? and how?—knew of Simon and Grace, their belonging to Alpha Force, and what Alpha Force was. The attack did, after all, occur on the night of a full moon.

  The clues so far were few. But to save Simon and Grace—and maybe even Alpha Force—Kristine and he would nevertheless locate those newlyweds. Fast. They had to.

  And they would also uncover who was trying to frame them, and how...and why.

  Chapter 6

  The bus bumped and climbed slowly along a narrow uphill road. Kristine watched from her sideways angle as the Asian-American driver concentrated on what he was doing. His hands were clasped tightly on the wheel and he frowned while staring straight ahead.

  Glancing out the window beside her, Kristine looked out onto a cliff composed of magnificent rock formations that plunged down to the water below.

  And smiled as she took in the gorgeous sight.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  At his uncharacteristically soft tone, Kristine glanced toward Quinn. He was looking at her.

  She swallowed in confusion. Well, gee. They were supposed to be acting like honeymooners. He was just doing a good job.

  Even so, she quickly turned away from both Quinn and the window.

  Wendell now leaned back in his seat, apparently assuming he’d answered everything Kristine intended to ask. Not so.

  Why wasn’t Quinn jumping in with questions, too? He was the former investigator, not her. So far, Kristine had kept things general and vague. She hadn’t figured out a graceful way to segue into what they really needed to know: Had Grace and Simon been on this tour? That could be hard to ask since the guide hadn’t sought the names of his current passengers, nor even where they were from. He probably didn’t get to know any tourists well enough to identify them by name.

  But there was one thing he could do: now that they were in the park, he could surely point out where the mauled tourists’ bodies had been found.

  Why didn’t Quinn extract that from him?

  Twisting
slightly to make sure Quinn was looking at her, Kristine shot him a look she intended to be both quizzical and to show irritation.

  His broad shoulder nearest her lifted in the merest shrug, rubbing against her arm in this cramped seat, reminding her—as if she had forgotten—that their bodies remained in physical contact. Then he shot her a smile and squeezed her hand as if encouraging her.

  Did that mean this former P.I. thought she was handling things okay?

  Why did that assumption of his approval shoot a twinge of pleasure through her? She didn’t need his endorsement. She needed his expertise.

  Well, since he hadn’t jumped in to help, she’d just wing it, try to get answers without coming on like some kind of official investigator—which she wasn’t.

  “This is such an incredible ride,” she gushed over the aisle loudly enough to be heard across the bus’s straining engine.

  Wendell glanced at her in surprise, as if he didn’t expect passengers to talk to him while the view was so incredible.

  That gave Kristine the opening she wanted. “I’ll bet everyone who takes this tour tells you how wonderful this part is, right? How many tours do you guide every day? Are they always full?”

  Wendell’s scruffy face crinkled as if in pain that she had interrupted the break in his narration. But the expression turned into a smile. “You’re really interested in all this, aren’t you? You’re the kind of tourist who makes this job fun.”

  He got back on the microphone. “One of our passengers has been asking some good questions,” he said, “and the rest of you may be interested in the answers, too.” He began to describe a typical day and week of a tour guide like him. “Our company has four buses. They all run on propane, since that’s better for the environment. This time of year, in early summer, all four are sent out daily about two hours apart, and usually they’re all filled.”

  He continued talking in generalities, making Kristine sigh in frustration. She looked up at Quinn’s amused expression. “Interesting, but not exactly what you were looking for,” he said softly. “Right?”

  “I suppose you can do better,” she fumed. “In fact, you should be able to—so why aren’t you?”

  “Because I enjoyed watching and listening to you.”

  She opened her mouth to say something sarcastic—then stopped. His brows had risen into an expression that suggested bemusement, as if he only now realized that what he’d said was true.

  Almost unwillingly, he continued, “You were doing a damned good job, Kristine. I couldn’t have handled it any better. But there are still things we need to find out—more specific stuff about passengers, and what our guide knows about what occurred here last week. Want the pro to show you how?” His words sounded as egotistical as she’d expected, yet the ironic expression on his face looked almost self-deprecating.

  That made Kristine mad. Between the two of them, she wanted to be the one critical of him, not vice versa.

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d love a lesson from an expert like you. I suspect you could teach me a lot about all kinds of stuff we’ve been thrown together to deal with. And while you’re at it, maybe you could teach me how to be a good investigator, too.” She looked up into his eyes. Their golden color almost glowed with sensuality as he stared back. He clearly heard the sarcasm—and the hidden meanings—in what she’d said.

  They’d been thrown together mostly to deal with his shifting. And, oh yeah, he went into and out of it nude. As if that recollection was ever far from Kristine’s thoughts.

  “Okay,” Quinn said smoothly. “I’ll start with some of the hardest. The rest of what I can teach is easy.”

  Judging by his words and smug grin, the chip was back on his shoulder—as if it had ever fallen off. Too bad it didn’t pound away the seductive air about him that was nearly irresistible.

  Good thing he wasn’t just Kristine’s military comrade. He was essentially her superior. Plus, he was a werewolf in soldier’s clothing. Those, she could continue to resist.

  She hoped.

  “Wendell,” Quinn called, “here’s something I’ll bet every tourist on this bus is curious about. You said we’d be safe with you on this tour, but...well, are we going anywhere near where those tourists were attacked the other day? I think we should all be told where it was. That way, if we come back on our own, we can stay far away.”

  The guide’s expression was clearly uncomfortable. “Well...the thing is, that happened in the middle of some of the most interesting stuff around the park. So, yes, we’ll be near there. The authorities have it under control. You have nothing to worry about now, but—”

  “But you’ll tell us, won’t you?” Quinn stood up despite the shakiness of the bus and turned toward the other passengers. “You all want to know where to avoid, right?” he called. “Wendell says we’ll be getting near where that attack happened. Everyone think he should point it out?”

  “Yeah.” “Right.” “Definitely.” “Yes!”

  The chorus of responses once more made Wendell seem to cringe, but he nodded. “Okay. We’re actually coming up on it real soon. I’ll let you know.”

  * * *

  About twenty minutes later, Quinn’s questions finally paid off—at least some of them.

  The bus had parked beside a sheer but not very high cliff along a road. Lots of other vehicles were there, too, and Quinn could see why. A rustic visitor center was located on one side of a small, filled parking area.

  “We’ll stop here for about half an hour,” Wendell said into the microphone as he stood at the front of the bus. “There’s a great view of the water over there.” He pointed across the narrow street toward where a lot of tourists scrambled over some rocks. “You can use the restrooms, if you’d like, and there’s also a ranger station and souvenir shop inside. And—” He seemed to hesitate.

  “And?” Quinn prompted, although he had a good idea of what Wendell was reluctant to say.

  “Well, there’s a stream that runs to one side of the center, with paths around it. Usually, I encourage our visitors to come back and start their park hikes from around here. But...well, those poor tourists were found not too far from this center, off a trail in the hills just behind it. That’s the place to avoid now—not that you could go hiking there anyway. Far as I know, the place is still blocked off by the authorities who’re investigating what happened.”

  “Thanks for letting us know.” Kristine smiled at their guide in a way that suggested her understanding and sympathy.

  Damned if the old fellow didn’t blush. Interesting, Quinn thought, that a woman who was all soldier while in uniform was clearly all woman when not in her camos—when she wanted to be.

  With him, she’d tried to keep it all business. Of course, it was better that way—as much as he regretted it.

  “Let’s check out the visitor center, dear.” She stood, smiling in the sweet way she had taken on as part of their cover.

  “Absolutely, honey,” he agreed.

  They didn’t spend a lot of time in the building. The kinds of souvenirs they were interested in weren’t to be found there.

  Instead, they wandered the paths alongside the visitor center until the bus was ready to leave.

  The air was warm and slightly breezy. The area smelled of the multiple kinds of vegetation growing after spring’s first spurt of rebirth, and the slightly stagnant waters nearby.

  Quinn was amused and impressed by the way Kristine oohed and aahed about the trees and plants, the birds that flew around them and all the stuff real tourists might be interested in. But as they walked, she also seemed to study the way the paths led away from the area and into the hills.

  At one point, she pulled on his arm, and he lowered his head so she could whisper into his ear.

  “Can you...sense just where Wendell was referring to?” she asked.

  He understood her meaning. But just then, his enhanced human senses picked up neither scents nor sounds that told him where the murders had occurred
or the investigation was being conducted.

  “No,” he responded quietly. “But I understand the park is open twenty-four hours. I’d love to come back to this area and hike a bit at twilight—again—wouldn’t you, dear?”

  * * *

  Kristine drove their rented sedan when they returned to Acadia a short while after their bus tour ended. It was still daylight—barely—and she’d turned on all the friendliness she could muster when she paid their admission to a park ranger at an entrance.

  Inside, as she drove back toward the visitor center, she’d felt nervous.

  This wouldn’t be the first crime scene she’d visited since joining Alpha Force. She’d even been involved not long ago in something really big, potentially preventing a major bioterrorism event.

  But then she’d felt more in her element. She’d even been able to utilize her nursing skills on that mission. Sure, she’d gotten shot then, but she’d been wearing a protective vest and hadn’t been badly injured.

  And being aide to another shifter—Grace—had been a piece of cake compared to what she anticipated once again with Quinn.

  “Take the next turn to the right,” Quinn said from the passenger seat. She glanced over. He was simultaneously studying a map of the park and a handheld GPS reader. “The road will take us up the mountain above the center—most likely above where the victims were found. There’s bound to be someplace there secluded enough for you to conceal the car this time—and for me to shift again.”

  Kristine obeyed without comment. The already narrow road constricted even more as it wove around rocky crags and climbed higher. She had to pay close attention to her driving but glanced toward Quinn now and then. His head turned frequently toward the passenger window, so she figured he was trying to keep track of where the visitor center was, now below them, as well as the area above where the killing had occurred.

  “Are we high enough yet?” she asked after a while.

  “Yes, but I’m not sure—here we are. Take this road to the right. Let’s go about a quarter of a mile, and there’s supposed to be a turnoff soon. You should be able to park there.”