Operation Wolf: Gunner ~ Sedona Venez

by Venez, Sedona

  “And why do you think that?”

  “Because, normally, when purebloods find their true mate, they latch on and never let go. This woman practically ran out on you, right? Why the hell would she do that? Especially considering it’s so hard for purebloods to actually find their true mates.”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe the truth is that I was just hallucinating, and she had regrets or something and decided she had to get the hell out of there. I found out she’s a rich guy’s daughter, and after all, I’m . . .”

  I’m fucking nobody right now because I haven’t decided what the hell I want to be yet.

  But the idea that Celine considered me a mistake hurt more than I cared to admit.

  Shit. Maybe it was better this way. At least I wasn’t being tied to a woman I hardly knew by a force I didn’t quite understand.

  “Yeah, well, I hope you’re right, bro,” Eli drawled and then yawned. “I’ve got to go now. I’ve only got a few hours left until I have to rise and shine, and I need to make the most of it. Call me if anything new comes up, all right?”

  “Yeah, of course.” I had forgotten that Eli worked an early-morning shift. “Thanks a lot, Eli. Talk to you later, bro.”

  Ending our call, I turned toward the kitchen and raised a brow at Emily, who was standing by the fridge, sipping something from a mug. I knew she’d been listening to most of my conversation. I hadn’t heard her come down the stairs, but it wasn’t exactly as if I could do more than glare at her since it was her damn house. I held her gaze for a few moments and then inclined my head before getting up and stomping upstairs and into my room.

  The sooner I get out of this place, the better.

  CHAPTER 11

  Celine

  I REPRESSED A SIGH as I slid one leg out of the limousine and placed my stiletto heel onto the pavement. Reaching out my hand in a practiced move, I allowed the limousine driver to help me out of the vehicle, thanked him with a quiet murmur, and then turned to Carter, who held his arm out for me.

  His eyes gleamed with lust as they roamed over my body, taking in the way my tight, curvy figure looked in the black sheath dress with a plunging neckline that I knew showed off my cleavage. Gold jewelry glittered at my ears, wrists, and neck—jewelry he’d purchased for me along with the dress and shoes he’d insisted I wear today. And I’d grudgingly done exactly as he’d requested.

  So much for being wild and free.

  My thoughts flashed back to Friday night when I’d been at the club—and more importantly, in Gunner’s arms. I longed to be back there, dancing with Gunner, instead of here with Carter as I stood there, all coiffed and manicured to perfection. I felt like a damn porcelain doll—delicate, dainty, and unreal—meant to be put on a pedestal and admired by others. And not to be played with and certainly never expected to run around and do things on my own.

  Some fucking shifter I am.

  “Are you ready?” Carter asked politely, waiting for me to take his proffered arm.

  Reluctantly, I turned my attention back to him. A light breeze teased the strands of his honey-blond hair, which was perfectly cut and styled. Standing at six foot three and muscular, he was classically handsome, but his eyes—the color of a pale Earl Grey tea—were cold in the afternoon sunshine, and his smile was razor-edged, letting me know he had not forgiven me. He’d caught lingering traces of Gunner’s scent on me. Though he hadn’t been able to prove I’d had sex with Gunner, I knew Carter suspected, and it chafed him because I’d yet to have sex with him.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why the hell did I fuck Gunner?

  If I hadn’t had sex with Gunner, I never would have known he was my true mate. And this terrible longing to be with him wouldn’t afflict me. A longing I’d been fighting ever since I left him in the room yesterday morning.

  “Yes,” I responded while adjusting my silk wrap around my shoulders before placing my hand on his arm.

  I bit back a sigh as we walked up the stairs and into the museum located in the heart of midtown Manhattan. The Museum of Modern Art was the last place I wanted to be. Having grown up in Manhattan, I’d been here often enough, and while I enjoyed art, I was no museum aficionado. But Carter was obsessed with sculptures. He was constantly having new ones made to decorate his loft apartment, and it was his turn to pick our date.

  Not that I was actually allowed to pick anything fun when it was my turn. I highly doubted he would consent to go to a R&B concert with me or to take me skydiving. Carter was far too serious and unadventurous. He was a stick-in-the-mud—a highly unusual trait for a shifter—which made me all the unluckier to have been paired with a straitlaced asswipe like him.

  “After we’ve seen everything, I’ll take you to the Met Rooftop Bar. We’ll enjoy the view of Central Park with a glass of wine,” Carter confessed. Though the only evidence of such excitement was the slight curling at the corners of his mouth. “I haven’t visited the MoMA in a year, and I’m sure they’ve added more pieces since then.”

  Whoopee! Sounds like so much damn fun . . . not.

  “That sounds lovely,” I mumbled, careful to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  I allowed Carter to lead me through the high-ceiling museum space, past the exhibits of paintings, photography, and architecture, and into the elevator.

  “Visiting Vincent van Gogh’s Starry Night today, sir?” the elevator operator asked politely as he closed behind us.

  “Indeed,” Carter answered, looking down his nose at the man in a way that made me want to smack the self-important look off his damn face. “I don’t suppose there are any new exhibits on display?”

  “As a matter of fact, there are several,” the elevator operator answered with considerably less candor as he pressed the button for the fifth floor. “The Collection galleries are frequently reinstalled in an effort to feature a wide range of artworks.”

  “Is that so?” Carter answered, his eyes lighting with real interest. His lips curled at the corners. “That is very pleasing news, indeed. Thank you.”

  We stepped out onto the fifth floor, and I tugged my white silk wrap a little closer around me as I looked around the gallery. We walked around the area to view the two Van Gogh paintings, a whole room of Monet, Picasso, and Matisse, while I listened to Carter drone on and on about the collections and the artistic value they brought to society. I supposed it might have been more interesting if he’d sounded more passionate about the subject. But the way he spoke about the pieces, I could tell he was more interested in them on an academic, maybe even fiscal, level, rather than as artistic pieces in and of themselves. But then, Carter was a ruthless businessman, and that was simply how he was. He didn’t look at things and admire or enjoy them for what they were. He was always thinking and calculating as to how they could be more useful to him.

  And, right now, with me being the sole heir to Cooper Enterprises, I was extremely useful to Carter.

  The crowds around Starry Night were particularly large, but we worked our way to the front to admire it.

  “Carter, could we please sit down for a moment?” I asked after a while when we found ourselves in an empty gallery. “I’m afraid I need to rest.” I wasn’t really tired. I just wanted a brief respite from his incessant, annoying chatter.

  “Certainly,” Carter agreed.

  I didn’t miss the flash of annoyance in his eyes. His grip tightened fractionally on my arm as he steered me to one of the few benches around, and a shiver ran up my spine. There was always a barely leashed violence lurking under the surface of his touch. He had a dominant alpha air that I knew probably thrilled and excited most women, but frankly, it unnerved me. I sat down on the bench and forced myself not to scoot away when he sat down too close next to me with his leg touching mine.

  “Celine,” Carter murmured, taking one of my hands in both of his. The warmth radiating off his body chased away some of the chill surrounding me, but it did absolutely nothing to put me at ease. “Have you given any more thought to o
ur mating ceremony? I need it to happen soon. I’ve been a rather patient man.”

  “I . . .” I trailed off, the words stuck in my throat.

  I knew I should just get this thing over with and go through with the mating ceremony, but the coldness in his voice and the violence that lurked beneath his icy-calm exterior always stopped me—as if, instinctively, I knew that this man, this shifter, was no good for me.

  “I told you I’m not quite ready yet,” I argued. “Just give me a little more time . . .”

  “I have,” he snarled, gripping my chin and tilting my head so that I looked up at him. “But I find myself growing a little impatient. So impatient that I think I might contact my colleagues, advising them to start contacting their stockbrokers and begin liquidating assets.” He blew out loudly. “I really don’t understand why you insist on keeping me waiting.”

  I sucked in a breath as a jolt of real fear kicked up my pulse. Months ago, when he had first asked me to be his mate and I’d refused, Carter had told me he held a large portion of the company’s stock under the names of a variety of shareholders in his network, and if I refused to be his mate, he would sell them all at once. I knew if he did that, it would mean utter disaster for Dad’s company, Cooper Enterprises. The company’s value would plummet drastically, and Carter would have absolutely no problem swooping in and buying the company for a fraction of its value, leaving Dad with absolutely nothing.

  Shit. Think, Celine . . . fast.

  I had always managed to hold Carter off, telling him I wouldn’t be pushed into rash action and that, if he wanted me to marry him, he would have to give me time to get to know him better. The stall tactic had worked. Carter had risen to the challenge but with the caveat that, after another month, I would have to set a date for our ceremony to take place.

  I thought of the many ways I could now handle his surging aggression. One, Superman-punch him in the damn throat for touching me in such a high-handed manner, or two, bide my time by soothing his savage beast and not ruffling his fur by going alpha female on his ass. Given his inflated ego and, more importantly, the leverage he had on Dad . . . I reluctantly went with option two.

  “Release me now,” I demanded before sliding my hand along the length of his arm and then wrapping my fingers around the wrist of the hand that held my chin immobile.

  He hesitated and then obeyed.

  Taking a soothing deep breath, I paused before continuing, “And, as far as my request for you to wait—” I shrugged “—I am a woman, and it is in our nature to make a man wait. Besides, don’t you find that it heightens the anticipation and makes the reward more . . . pleasurable?” I deliberately uttered the last word in a husky sex-kitten manner.

  “Vixen,” he growled, wrapping his free arm around my waist and drawing me closer.

  I sucked in another breath of revulsion but tried to pass it off as a breathy moan instead.

  I fucking despise him, my wolf complained. Please let me disembowel him and let us be done with him.

  No, I snapped back while pulling my inner cage firmly around her.

  “Celine, you are playing with fire,” Carter hissed. Leaning in, he caught my earlobe between his teeth.

  My inner beast snarled and stomped around in protest. I shivered with distaste, finding it hard to resist the impulse to squirm away from him—or better yet, hurl.

  “Excuse me,” a familiar deep voice interrupted.

  I jerked my head up in shock. Gunner stood there, dressed in a dark suit with a matching tie and starched white shirt. His hands were clasped loosely in front of him, and I caught a glimpse of what looked like a radio communicator and a bottle of Mace hanging from the belt beneath his suit jacket.

  “I’ll have to ask the two of you to move along.”

  His silver-gray eyes had morphed to cold steel, and he showed absolutely no recognition on his features, which hurt like a motherfucker, though I knew it was obviously better for both of us that he showed no hint that we knew each other.

  “I beg your pardon,” Carter snapped, slowly removing his hands from my body. “Do you have any inkling of who I am?”

  Gunner blankly stared at him.

  “Well, I have been a benefactor of this museum since—” Carter stopped cold, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. “It’s you!” he snarled before his eyes turned bright gold and he whirled on me.

  I sprang back while my inner wolf yelled, Celine, quick! Go for his throat and rip it out!

  “This filth is the man you were with?” Carter jeered.

  Before I could stop him, Carter launched himself at Gunner, going in for the kill.

  CHAPTER 12

  Gunner

  “JESUS CHRIST, GUNNER. WHAT the hell were you thinking?” Jimmy asked.

  Biting back a groan, I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, willing my headache to ease. My head had been smashed into the wall, hard enough that it would have cracked my skull open if I were only human. But, even now, I wasn’t fully healed yet. I was in Jimmy’s car while he drove us home from the police station where I’d been questioned at great length before being released. And all I wanted right now was to get to my bedroom and forget about this whole horrible day.

  “Bro,” I answered, “it wasn’t my fault. He attacked me.”

  “For no reason?” Jimmy asked incredulously. “That’s going to be hard to convince the boss of.”

  I sighed. “No, it wasn’t for no reason,” I corrected, leaning my head back against the headrest. My headache was beginning to fade a little, to my damn relief. I was just happy to be heading home after this whole clusterfuck. “He was pissed because I’d fucked his girlfriend.”

  Well, I guess that explains why Celine ran out on me the next morning.

  It was just my luck that the first woman I had sex with in the months since Julia happened to not only belong to another man, but a man who was a generous and very wealthy benefactor of my employer.

  “What are you talking about?” Jimmy asked.

  I quickly gave him a rundown about what had led up to the altercation.

  Jimmy’s jaw dropped. “So, let me get this straight. You two were fighting over the same woman you’d picked up in the bar the other night?”

  “Her name is Celine. And, yes, the very same. Only I had no clue she wasn’t single, and I damn sure wasn’t expecting to see her again.” Even though I had wanted to.

  I’d hardly recognized Celine, given the fact that she was decked out in that expensive-looking black dress and wrap with her hair twisted into an elegant updo. The whole ensemble had made her look way different from the other night. But I’d instantly recognized her scent, and when I had seen her sitting next to that man, letting him paw her, a strange, possessive streak had taken hold of me. I couldn’t stop myself from butting in. Truth be told, I could fully understand why the bastard had attacked me. Every instinct in me had longed to rip his throat out because of the way he had been touching Celine. My inner beast had wanted blood because another man was touching what was . . . his—Celine.

  “Shit. But to find her again, and with another man . . . damn . . . you have the worst luck ever.”

  “Apparently so.”

  “I guess we all run that risk when it comes to hooking up with strangers,” Jimmy countered. “Shit. I should be grateful I don’t have to worry about that crap anymore,” he added with a weak laugh.

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Lucky you.”

  Jimmy winced. “Shit. Sorry. Forgot about the whole thing with Julia. Fuck. I’m being pretty insensitive, aren’t I?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I answered, looking out the window to catch a glimpse of the afternoon sun before we pulled up to Jimmy’s house and parked. “I’m happy for you.”

  “Mark my words, Gunner. You’ll come through all this shit,” Jimmy said as we hopped out of the vehicle. “And I’ll personally speak to the boss and try to help round up some witness statements for you. But I have a feeling luck is on your
side. I mean, just look at you,” he muttered, making a sweeping motion across my body. “There’s hardly a scratch on you even though you told me that the bastard had plowed you straight into the damn wall. Shit. If it weren’t for your clothes, I’d find it hard to believe you were even in a fight.”

  I chuckled, looking down at myself. My suit jacket was torn at the elbow, and there were tears in my pants and scuffs all over my shiny new boots. “Wasn’t exactly expecting to spend my first paycheck on getting a new suit,” I grumbled, stomping up the stairs into the house. I knew Jimmy was trying to cheer me up, but right now, my stomach was churning with way too many raw emotions—anger, frustration, bitterness, envy, and confusion. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

  Back in my bedroom, I stripped off my ruined clothes and changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, not bothering to clean up in the bathroom. My stomach continued to roil unpleasantly with anxiety and rage, and I wished like hell for some kind of outlet on which to vent my surging emotions.

  Shit. I can’t believe Celine played me like this.

  She was clearly involved with another of her own kind. I couldn’t imagine that pure-blooded wolf-shifters were any less territorial than hybrids, and it was obvious that Carter Langstrom—as I’d learned my attacker was named—was a powerful man. Now, it was highly likely I would lose my job, and then all of my hard work over the past few weeks would be for damn nothing.

  “Gunner?” Emily knocked on the door, and for once, there was no hint of disapproval in her voice. “There’s a visitor here to see you.”

  Scowling, I opened the door. “Who is it?” I asked wearily.