Wolf Trouble

by Paige Tyler

  Ignoring the urge to bury her nose in their softness, Khaki turned and ran back to the living room before she could think too much about Xander’s naked body, his bed, and what it would be like to get wrapped up in both.

  He was still sitting on the floor, grinning.

  “Do my eyes look different?” she asked.

  He didn’t say anything for so long, she began to wonder if something was wrong. But then he grinned even broader. “Yes, they look different. A green-gold completely unlike any other werewolf’s eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  That alarmed her a little. “Do you think they’re okay?”

  “Of course they’re okay. They’re just unique—like you. Sit down and I’ll show you how to back out of the process.”

  She plopped down in front of him eagerly. Over the next two hours, he taught her how to get her night vision to disappear, then how to bring it back again. Sooner than she ever would have thought possible, she could make her eyes shift in and out of night-vision mode without even thinking about it.

  Giddy because she’d learned something like that so quickly, Khaki grabbed Xander’s hand to give it a squeeze. His hand was warm and slightly callused compared to hers, and her breath hitched at the tingle that surged through her. His gold eyes flared brighter for a second, like he’d felt it too. She wanted to hold on longer to see if the tingle might get even stronger, but then reminded herself that he was still her squad leader and that she shouldn’t be holding his hand. But the moment she let go, her hand itched to reach out and touch him again.

  “Teach me something else,” she said excitedly.

  His mouth twitched. “Okay, but just one more little thing. We don’t want to push it too hard. This stuff can take a lot out of you when you’re new at it.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him that she could spend the rest of the night doing this, but realized she was a little tired. It had been one hell of a long day.

  “Okay, you’re probably right,” she admitted. “But do you think you can show me how to make my claws come out?”

  He frowned. “Claws are a few rungs up the ladder from night vision. They can be tough if you’re tired.”

  Khaki tried not to let her disappointment show, but Xander must have seen it because he shook his head with a laugh.

  “Okay, we can try it. Just don’t get your hopes up too high.”

  She scooted closer to him on the floor, promising that she wouldn’t.

  Xander had her close her eyes and imagine running in the forest again, except this time he had her focus on her fingers.

  “Dig your fingers into the soil—deep,” he said. “Think of your claws gaining purchase as you push to get up the hill.”

  As he continued in that soft, honeyed voice of his, Khaki wondered if part of the reason she’d wanted to continue the lessons was simply so she could keep hearing him talk. He did have a really nice voice, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit she liked feeling his breath on her skin.

  Khaki didn’t know how long she sat there with her eyes closed, but when Xander finally told her to open them, she found herself looking at a set of long claws extending from her fingertips.

  “Your claws are a part of you, just like your eyes,” Xander told her. “You can’t make them come out any more than you can make your legs longer or your hair turn blue. But if you let them come out, they’ll be there every time for you. It’s the basic rule for all werewolf abilities. You have to be calm and relaxed and allow your inner wolf to come out. Sometimes, claws and fangs will come out if we’re angry, but then that’s not control. It’s just rage.”

  Khaki held her hands up, transfixed by her long claws with their slight curves and sharp tips. She looked closer at the nail beds to see that they weren’t bloody at all. Maybe letting her claws come out naturally was less traumatic on them.

  She took a deep breath and imagined her nails the way they always were—oval shaped and just slightly longer than her fingers. She didn’t try to force her claws back into their other shape, but simply saw them that way.

  As she watched, the claws slowly retracted. It felt strange, but it wasn’t painful. How could they possibly hide themselves in her slender fingers? What was she thinking? She was a werewolf. None of this was logical.

  “That was perfect,” Xander said. “Very smooth.”

  Khaki laughed. “You think so?”

  “Yeah, but I think we should call it a night.”

  She was getting tired. She’d probably crash as soon as the adrenaline rush wore off. But she was having so much fun, it was tough to stop. It wasn’t just the werewolf lessons she was enjoying either. She was having fun being with Xander. That was crazy, considering just a couple of hours ago, she was sure he hated her guts. She didn’t know what had changed or why he was being nice to her now, but she wasn’t going to complain. He was a gorgeous guy with a great voice, apparently infinite patience, and a rocking body that would make any female werewolf growl.

  Khaki pushed those thoughts aside and remembered her manners.

  “Thanks for taking the time to teach me all this stuff,” she said as she stood up. “I know it’s not in your normal duty description, but I really appreciate it.”

  He grinned as he got to his feet. “Don’t worry about it. Training you, no matter the subject, is my most important job. I’m glad you decided to trust me enough to tell me you needed help. I know we haven’t exactly hit it off very well.”

  “You were here when I needed you. That’s what matters.” She picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “But I think it goes without saying that I’ll need some more lessons. I hope we can do this again?”

  “Of course,” he said. “We can do your next lesson here or your place. Wherever you’re comfortable.”

  Wow. Xander seemed not only willing to teach her more, but almost eager. She hadn’t expected that.

  As he walked her to the door, Khaki tried to come up with some reason not to leave. She had this crazy urge to stay and talk. She didn’t know why she thought he’d even be interested. It was getting late and he probably wanted to get back to TV and his game.

  At the door, she turned to look up at him. She wasn’t sure what she’d been going to say, but anything that she might have said disappeared as Xander’s eyes caught and held hers. Why did he have to be her squad leader? He was so unbelievably hot, and he smelled divine. In fact, the longer they stood there, the better he smelled. Then her nose picked up another smell that almost made her knees give out. Xander’s scent was blending with something completely different and so masculine, but so sweet at the same time, that her nose tingled and her mouth watered. Crap. She was literally starting to drool over her boss.

  She wanted to kiss him so badly. Actually, she wanted to do a lot more than that. But she wasn’t that stupid. He was her squad leader, and if her little run-in with Jeremy had reminded her of anything, it was that workplace romances with fellow cops always ended badly.

  Besides, she’d promised Emma she’d call to let her know everything was okay. She couldn’t do that if she was throwing herself at Xander.

  Not that he was likely to reciprocate.

  “Thank you again,” she said as he opened the door for her.

  “You’re welcome again,” he said in that same deep, sexy tone that sent waves of warmth right through her. “Good night, Khaki. See you tomorrow.”

  Khaki nodded, not trusting herself to say anything else. She felt very proud of herself for being able to walk away from a situation that had “bad idea” written all over it. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t kicking herself at the same time.

  “Hey, Khaki.”

  She turned at the elevator, her pulse skipping a beat. Xander stood in the doorway of his apartment, one hand on the jamb, the thumb of the other hooked casually in the front pocket of his jeans.

  “I know I can come off like a jackass sometimes,” he said. “But if you think that means I don’t like you, you’re wrong.”


  Khaki stared. Had she heard him right? Xander disappeared inside before she could decide.

  She stood there in the hallway long after his door clicked shut, half of her wanting to knock on it again and the other half telling her to get her ass back in her little car and go home.

  Common sense finally won out, but the decision was a lot closer than it probably should have been.

  Chapter 7

  So much for limited-duty status.

  Xander lay facedown on the roof of a three-story building downtown, slowly sweating in the afternoon sun. It wasn’t very hot for this time of year, but the way the rays were heating up the flat tar roof, it felt like the middle of summer.

  He looked through his binoculars at the bank they were supposed to be covering, but it was over four blocks away and almost impossible to see with all the other buildings that were in the way. It made him wonder again what the hell they were doing here. Oh, yeah. Playing nice.

  Gage had pulled him and the rest of his squad out of PT that morning, saying he had a job he needed them to cover. When Xander had reminded him they were on limited-duty status, the Pack alpha had given him a shrug.

  “Sorry, but this one came out of nowhere. The FBI has a task force that’s been tracking a group hitting banks all through the Southwest. They’ve asked the DPD for assistance, and Deputy Chief Mason offered them SWAT.”

  Xander had tried his best to weasel out of the job, mostly because he wasn’t too fond of working with the feds. “FBI has their own SWAT team. What the hell do they want with us?”

  “They probably just want to have you available for perimeter work or something stupid like that,” Gage told him. “But they made the request officially through Mason, and he wants us to play nice.”

  “So why can’t Mike’s team handle this? You know I still need more time training Khaki.”

  His boss had stopped looking amused at that point, which told Xander the conversation was pretty much over.

  “Because this job has the potential to turn into a recurring gig,” Gage told him flatly. “The task force isn’t exactly sure when the bank robbers are going to strike next, but they do know they don’t have the time to keep briefing support people every time they need to call them in. That means whoever I put on this will be subject to short notice recalls, and if your squad is going to be on limited duty anyway, I’d rather it be you.”

  Xander checked in with his squad again. The senior agent in charge of the FBI taskforce, Philip Thompson, had said he didn’t want any of the locals using their own radios because there was too much chance of compromising the operation, but Thompson could kiss his ass. Xander was monitoring the FBI channel through one radio and earpiece while talking to his squad on a completely different radio and frequency. Who said men couldn’t multitask?

  “Nothing here,” Trevor reported over the internal SWAT channel. “Not surprising since we’re so far from the bank that someone could have stolen the whole building and we wouldn’t know it.”

  Xander swore silently. In theory, Trevor was covering the northern side of the perimeter with Becker and Cooper. But in reality, he was sitting on his ass just like Xander was doing here to the south of the bank with Hale and Max. Neither group would be in a position to do much when—make that if—the bank robbery actually went down. But that was the way the FBI had wanted it.

  Khaki checked in from the western edge of the perimeter where she and Alex were maintaining a sniper and observation post nearly six blocks from the target. It wasn’t much of a sniper outpost since Alex didn’t have a better visual on the bank than the rest of them.

  Xander had known this operation was going to be a soup sandwich the moment they met Thompson. Talk about a clusterfuck. Even the people in the local FBI field office didn’t like the way this new agent in charge had come in swinging his weight around. Xander couldn’t blame them. No one liked outsiders coming in and trying to run the show as if everyone else were a bunch of idiots.

  Apparently, these particular bank robbers had hit nine banks in three months without leaving a single usable clue. That was Xander’s first indication these guys weren’t a bunch of amateur smash-and-grab types. Nobody could hit nine banks without leaving evidence behind unless they were serious professionals.

  Thompson had spent some time explaining the crew’s MO in the briefing, saying they spent nearly a month conducting surveillance and planning in a particular city, then hitting three banks all in the span of a week.

  “They’re disciplined, organized, and almost certainly have some kind of military or even law enforcement background. They come in heavily armed and have shown that they won’t hesitate to shoot if they have to. They’ve already killed three people. In two months of working this case, we’ve come up with next to nothing.”

  “If these guys are so good, what makes you think they’re going to hit banks here in Dallas?” Xander asked.

  Thompson could have tried to bullshit his way through a lie about the FBI’s amazing investigative skills, but instead he was completely honest. “We’ve been chasing hunches and rumors for weeks and haven’t come close to identifying anyone in the crew, much less where or when they’re going to strike next. Then, out of the blue, a woman contacted us who claimed to have information on the next bank the group was going to hit. She indicated the target was here in Dallas.”

  “How reliable is the source?” Xander asked.

  “We can’t really say at this point,” Thompson said. “All we know for sure is that the woman knows details about the previous jobs that weren’t released to the press. We think she’s one of the robbers’ jilted girlfriends and that she’s looking for retribution. She gave us intel on the next job, down to the address. We have to act on it because it’ll likely be our only shot to get these guys.”

  After that, the rest of the briefing came down to one simple directive aimed specifically at the Dallas PD support personnel—don’t get in the way of our FBI operation.

  Thompson had told Xander in no uncertain terms that he and his squad, along with the other local assets, were there for backup, contingency, and crowd control purposes only. Xander would have raised the bullshit flag, but Deputy Chief Mason wanted them to play nice. And with all the backing Mason had given Gage when it came to hiring Khaki, Gage was more than ready to support that request. The squad wasn’t happy about it, but they agreed to go along with the plan.

  In reality, Xander wasn’t as pissed off as he normally would have been. With Khaki so new to SWAT, he wasn’t keen to get them involved in a serious shoot-out so soon anyway. At least this would give him a chance to see how she operated in a field environment without the threat of actual gunfire. It might be a good training opportunity.

  Even though he doubted the robbers would show, Xander still kept his eyes glued to the bank—what he could see of it anyway. While he did, he replayed the events of last night.

  On the one hand, he was thrilled that Khaki had trusted him enough to ask for help. But on the other hand, his whole damn apartment was so thoroughly saturated with her incredible scent that he was probably going to have to move if he ever wanted to sleep again. It was like he’d discovered some new form of torture. Lie in bed all night with a hard-on that wouldn’t go away, inhaling the overwhelming perfume of the most beautiful woman on the planet.

  And the funny thing was, he’d put up with it forever if it meant having a chance to spend more time alone with her like he had last night.

  When Khaki had shown up at his door in those curve-hugging jeans with her long hair free of its usual ponytail or bun, he thought for sure she was going to lay into him about being such an ass, so he’d been stunned when she admitted she needed help learning how to shift.

  Being alone with her and the alluring scent she put off was hard enough at work. Getting hit with it up close for hours as they sat there together on his living room floor had been maddening. Then there was that sexy little way she pursed her lips when she was concentrating. It had taken al
l of his strength not to kiss her when she did that.

  But the cherry on top of the cake had to be those eyes of hers. When she’d finally figured out how to control her night vision, those beauties, which were amazing even before the shift, had glowed with the most vivid green he’d ever seen. They were so mesmerizing it nearly stopped his heart. And the pure joy on her face as she ran around his apartment had made him so happy.

  Afterward, he’d been sorely tempted to ask her to stay—for a beer, or dinner, or even to watch the game. He didn’t really care what they did as long as she stayed. But if he had, his control would have slipped, and he would’ve done something stupid. Like bury his hands in her silky hair and kissed her. They’d just gotten to a place where she might not hate him completely. He decided to count himself lucky and just leave well enough alone.

  Xander was still daydreaming about getting together with Khaki for another werewolf lesson when he heard alarms ringing.

  He immediately refocused his attention on the bank below him only to realize the sound wasn’t coming from that direction.

  “What the hell is happening?” Thompson demanded over the radio. “Someone give me a status report.”

  “You’re sitting on the wrong bank!” Khaki’s voice was angry in Xander’s earpiece. “They’re hitting the one in the building we’re set up on. The bank on Jackson Street.”

  Thompson swore, then ordered his people to move in while at the same time yelling at the local PD to seal off the perimeter and demanding Khaki give him more info. But Xander was already getting a sinking feeling in his gut. A feeling that told him the FBI and everyone else had been royally played.

  “Khaki, figure out what the hell is happening and give me a sitrep,” he said into his mic.

  Even though his first instinct was to stay out of this and let the FBI go down in flames, Xander was up and running toward the far side of the roof. As he raced across it, he gave hand signals to the other guys with him—converge on the new target. Max and Hale were catching up to him before he even reached the edge of the roof.