The Agent Gets Her Wolves [The Shifters of Catamount, Texas 3] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting)

by Josie Hunter

  “Well, of course it did! Jesus Christ!” Talon clenched his fist when he saw the couple at another booth turn in his direction. He forced his temper under control and reached for his wine. Fuck no, wine was supposed to be savored, not gulped. He grabbed Stephanie’s margarita and downed it in one swallow. He shuddered as the sickening sweet liquid slid down his throat. He practically slammed the glass down on the table then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He gave her his fucking worst stare, the one that had made men—all men—cower. “Look, I told you I’m not a nice man, but you…you, Agent Cooper, insisted I join this posse of yours.”

  Stephanie—cool, calm Stephanie, when she had a mind to be—caught the attention of the server and pointed to her empty glass. “And you did, and I’m grateful.”

  He leaned as far across the table as he could. “I’m supposed to be a dead man. Dead, as in no movement, no dialogue, and certainly no information.”

  Stephanie glanced at Dylan, who nodded. “We have an idea.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” Talon said with a huge sigh. “Another Stephanie idea. I cannot wait to hear this.”

  Stephanie glanced up and smiled as the server slid another margarita toward her. Talon nearly gagged with the overwhelming scent of lime. Jesus, he needed to get to a doctor. His stomach hadn’t been right in weeks.

  “So…” Talon spread his hands. “Enlighten me.”

  “Well,” she said, and then took a dainty sip from her little straw, “they say dead men tell no tales, but that’s not always true.” She took another sip.

  “You are literally killing me here.”

  “What if there was a diary?”

  Talon dropped his head and scrubbed at his face then brought his gaze back to hers. Stephanie gave Dylan a funny little look, but Talon had had enough. “A diary. Seriously? That’s your big plan?” He cleared his throat and deliberately made his voice higher pitched, lifting his face toward the ceiling. “Dear Diary, today I killed some guys at the command of Esteban Santos. It was such a special day. The sun was shining and the birds were singing…that is until I slit all their throats and—”

  “Stop that,” Stephanie hissed, glancing around the room. “People can hear you.”

  “Oh, but why stop there? It could be pages and pages of waxing poetic about bad deeds and murderous intent, and I assume you’d want me to incriminate myself in all sorts of way, detailing everything I did for Viper as well? Well…” He leaned back and stretched his arm across the booth. To give Jake Westin credit, the man never moved a muscle. “Why don’t I just go down to Homeland and confess everything now? Maybe even put the noose around my own neck while I’m at it.” He tilted his head and peered at her. “How the fuck old do you think I am, and when did I turn into a freakin’ girl? Fuuuuck me.”

  “Barry, if you’d—”

  “How did you get this job again? A diary…Jeeeeesus.”

  “When you say it that way…” Stephanie took a gulp of her margarita and made a face. He hoped like hell her stomach felt like his. “You make it sound so asinine.”

  “I wonder why,” Talon said. “Maybe because it is.” He turned his venom on Dylan, and to give the smaller wolf credit, he never moved a muscle either. “You agree with this ridiculous idea?”

  “It’s not such a bad idea,” Dylan said. “You’ve been guaranteed immunity for this assignment, Talon, all crimes forgiven when we bring Santos to justice. Until then, you’re in a sort of Stephanie-controlled limbo.”

  “Thanks so much,” Stephanie muttered.

  “You’re right about that. Limbo is exactly how it feels.”

  Jake Westin picked up without losing a beat. “The faster we bring Santos to justice, the faster you get to live your life—without repercussions, without harassment, without having to look over your shoulder. Once he’s out of the way, you’re a free man. You can even be an alive man.”

  Jesus, it was a fucking ambush.

  The wheels in his head were spinning so fast he was getting a headache, but at least it took his mind off his stomach. “What do you want exactly?” His gaze flickered to Stephanie, but she refused to look at him. “Steph?”

  “Just the truth.” Her voice was clipped. Damn, he’d hurt her feelings.

  “And if I wrote this thing, how are you going to find it?” He glanced at Dylan since the Girl Wonder was currently staring into the depths of her drink. “I assume I’ve left it somewhere, with someone…”

  Dylan nudged Stephanie in the arm. She ignored him.

  “Come on, cheerleader,” Talon said, trying to soften his voice. “No hard feelings. You just caught me off guard. You want your answers, right?”

  She nodded and lifted her eyes, blinking at him behind her glasses. “I do.”

  “So do you have a plan?”

  She cocked her head. “I do.”

  “Then lay it out for me, Agent Cooper. You’re so good at pulling my strings.” He let his gaze settle on Dylan then Jake. “She missed her calling, you know. She should have been a vaudeville star. She’s a tiny puppet master pulling all our strings.”

  “You know you love me.” There she was, his old Steph.

  “How long do I have?”

  “As long as it takes. We want as many details as you can give us, anything that puts Santos in the center of all of it.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I find a way to plant it in the evidence we recovered from the New Orleans fiasco. They’re still combing the debris, looking for anything and everything.”

  Talon smirked. “Pretty lame group if no one’s found my diary yet.”

  “They don’t have my team, and who knows? Maybe a rookie will have some decent luck with a burned-up thumb drive.” Stephanie winked and picked up her phone. “If the diary speaks for you during the capture and trial, you’ll be safe. After that…well, you’ll be a completely free man. You can even go back to your aerie if you like.”

  Talon sighed. “Sounds like heaven.”

  “I’ve got a few more details to go over, but let me make a phone call first. I think Renee would like this place, don’t you?”

  “Fuckin’ A.” Talon pulled his wine glass toward him. The day had just gotten better.

  Chapter 12

  Jake shifted to get more comfortable on the hard chair he’d moved to the end of the booth to make room for Renee. Three hours later, the group seemed in no hurry to break up the party or move it elsewhere. He motioned for the check, and when he pushed his chair back, the screech across the ancient wooden floor stopped the conversation in its tracks. When he stood, all gazes flew to his.

  “Leaving, Wolf-boy?” Talon asked. He poured a bit more wine into Renee’s glass.

  “I have a date,” Jake said, shifting his focus to Stephanie.

  “Oh…” She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “Now that we’re working together…”

  “Unofficially,” Jake said. “I haven’t signed anything yet.”

  “But you said—”

  “Forget what I said.”

  He’d been watching the interactions between Stephanie and Dylan all evening, and if he knew anything about people—which he did— he knew that the two had somehow moved beyond their past differences. Working in a private club where sexual preferences of all sorts were indulged had given him a sixth sense when it came to romantic and sexual entanglements. Dylan and Stephanie had been intimate in the past few days, probably several times. Their body language proved it. Of course, if he’d had any doubts, Stephanie’s reactions to Dylan’s implications earlier had proven it beyond a doubt. Once they’d moved away from discussion of the actual mission, both had leaned toward the other. Stephanie had touched Dylan’s hand many times without conscious thought, and Dylan, his arm spread out on the bench behind her, had let his fingers gently caress her shoulder, his eyes never leaving her face. All of that was a bit too much for Jake. He wanted a chance to win this pretty bunny over, and that was going to be tough with his competition sittin
g next to her.

  Jake glanced at his watch. “It’s already after seven, a bit late to get reservations at Paradiso, but we can grab some takeout and talk a bit.”

  Stephanie drained her glass and slid it away. She half rose and grabbed her purse, but then realized Dylan blocked her way. The man leaned back in his seat and made no move to remove his arm from across the bench. Stephanie, now released from the spell the man had woven over her, made a face. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not.”

  He slid out of the bench and moved aside. Stephanie sidestepped out of the booth.

  “I’ll handle the check on the way out. Business meeting.” She winked. “Have a good evening.”

  Talon and Renee barely noticed they’d moved at all. The big guy was thoroughly enchanted by the big woman. It was a match made in heaven.

  Jake put his hand on Steph’s back to lead her through the maze of now-crowded tables in Hanrahan’s. Dylan followed.

  Jake glanced over his shoulder and raised a brow, but he kept walking. “Hate to burst your bubble, Winston, but dates are generally with two people.”

  “When they’re actually dates,” Dylan said. “I distinctly heard takeout and talk. Since that sounds like a strategy session, I think I’ll just tag along.”

  “Pretty sure we’re done with strategy for the night,” Jake said.

  Stephanie whirled around and put her hand on Dylan’s chest. The man smiled and pressed forward, forcing Steph back three steps. “Stay or go elsewhere. I don’t care, but you’re not coming with us. I mean it.”

  She whirled again and marched to the register. Jake gave Dylan a once-over.

  “I’m pretty sure she means what she says.”

  “Oh, she does,” Dylan said with a laugh, “but she doesn’t have the facts yet, does she?”

  Jake frowned. “Your meaning?”

  “I can smell it on you, Westin. You’re falling for her. Takes a wolf to know a wolf.”

  “I might be.”

  “And you’ve had sex with her,” Dylan said.

  “So have you.”

  “What do we do about that?” Dylan glanced toward the register where Stephanie was digging in her purse, probably for her wallet. She had a mind like a steel trap, but she was so disorganized at times he wondered how she made it through the day. “She’s a handful and pretty mercurial.”

  Jake chuckled. “I’ve noticed.”

  Dylan stared at him for a minute, so long in fact that Jake, uncomfortable now, almost turned and walked away. Finally Dylan said, “Ever thought of sharing a woman?”

  Jake pulled back in surprise. Now that was an idea if he’d ever heard one, and it wasn’t far-fetched in the shifter community. More than half the relationships in Catamount involved sharing, but he had never been involved with anyone beyond dating, let alone shared a woman with another man. And it was the last thing he’d expected to hear from Dylan Winston.

  Jake glanced at Stephanie. Talon and Renee had stopped to talk with her. What else could they possibly have to talk about? “Why would you want to do that? You two have a history. Sounds like you might have even been in love.”

  “We were…we are.” Dylan rubbed his forehead. “It’s crazy, I know. I want her back. I want to be the man she needs me to be, but we’re different now. She’s stronger, more confident, more mature. Something’s changed in her life, something I’m not even aware of, and I’m not sure I’m capable of being a whole man for her right now. I’m still…” He heaved a sigh. “I’m not sure what I am. Look, Westin, I know it sounds crazy, but something’s happened to me. I want her to be happy, and I could really use your—”

  “Jake, I’m ready.” She bounced up to them with a bright smile.

  Jake slipped his arm around her shoulder. “Dylan’s going to be joining us. Okay with you?”

  Her smile faded for just a moment as her gaze shifted to the other man. Her eyes narrowed as she lifted her chin. “What’s going on between you two? You’re conspiring against me, aren’t you?”

  Jake smiled. He moved his gaze to Dylan, who nodded. “We are.”

  She gave them a crooked smile and linked her arms through theirs. “So…Chinese?”

  * * * *

  Another dull night in Dullsville, Texas.

  Canine scents hung cloyingly in the air, so dense and heavy that Medea could barely breathe. She felt as though she had canine DNA worming through every molecule of her body and wanted desperately to shed the confining fabric she wore and just glide into the water. She needed to be cleansed.

  With so many possible targets, she’d clearly come to an end of her patience. She’d left three bodies down near the river’s edge—a jackal, a wolf, and coyote. She’d found a very promising wolf candidate wearing a cowboy hat and strolling along as blithely as you please. He was a tall, bulky, and fairly handsome wolf with wavy brown hair and blue eyes, pretty eyes if you went for that sort of thing, which of course she didn’t. Too late she’d noticed the badge on his belt. Law enforcement should be required to wear uniforms. Killing a police officer, a chief no less, was a wrench in the works she hadn’t needed.

  The jackal and coyote had both been collateral damage. They’d come stumbling through the brush—probably to puke—while she was dispatching the police-wolf. Though there was every possibility neither of the young men would remember a thing in the morning considering the alcohol stench that hovered around them like stinky moths, she couldn’t take the chance. Even one glance at her would have been too much and could have created far too much trouble. She presumed she might be one of only a very few tall, and beautiful if she said so herself, black women in the town, let alone in the entire state. Pretty easy to find and identify in a lineup. She might be able to hide in a room full of Grace Jones clones, but otherwise…she was pretty much screwed if someone remembered her.

  Though she’d been in kill mode and, therefore, very hard to see, there was a dead body to consider, a very dead body who happened to wear a badge and carry a gun. Not good anywhere, but in Texas…She wasn’t sure even she could outrun that storm.

  She’d tossed the cowboy hat into the brush. She’d taken the gun for her collection and stuffed the badge into her coat pocket. She assumed everyone would know him, but leaving the badge was tantamount to putting up a billboard in the center of town. If she only gained a few hours, so be it. When she shoved him farther into the river, she hoped the little fishes were hungry tonight, at least hungry enough to take some big bites from that handsome face. She left the riverbank yearning for the flow of the cool water against her feathers.

  She punched in the number and waited for several long moments. Just as she was ready to disconnect and shove the phone up Santos’s ass, he picked up.

  “Querida, good evening.”

  “Don’t fucking good evening me, Esteban.”

  “Are there problems?”

  “You might say that,” Medea snapped. She rested her arms on the boardwalk railing and let her glance slide over a few people before she continued. “Did you get a male wolf count in this county?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “In my estimation, there are approximately five thousand, probably four thousand if you discount anyone under twenty-five. But of course, since I don’t have time to gather fucking birth certificates, none of that helps me, now does it?”

  “You sound stressed, Medea. Have you shifted lately?”

  “Of course I’ve shifted,” she ground out. “I have to scour the delirious joviality of this place off my skin.”

  “Have you been taking your injections?”

  She inhaled, counting to five. She didn’t have the patience to count to ten. “I have, Esteban. I am fairly certain any DNA evidence is destroyed, but that isn’t helping me. I am leaving a trail of dead bodies because I don’t know who I’m looking for.”

  “When has a trail of dead bodies ever bothered you, querida?”

  “It never has, and it never will, but I am bored out of my sk
ull in this pristine land of smiles. The injections make my skin crawl and my feathers ruffle. It’s almost as bad as being around all these happy people.”

  “My poor dear Medea. I am so sorry.”

  He sounded anything but sorry. He sounded smug and supercilious, and she had only one way of dealing with people like that. Leave them in her wake. She’d miss his Miami properties and his money, but she’d grown so very tired of Esteban Santos. Sanctimonious piece of shit.

  “Get with Garcia and figure something out pronto or find another assassin. I want out.”

  The sounds around her became a tunnel of white noise as she listened to the silence on the other end of the line. For a moment she thought she’d lost her signal and was ready to open fire with the sheriff’s gun. She wasn’t in the best mood.

  As her hand moved toward her pocket, he finally responded. “Not possible, Medea. Just complete the assignment. I care very little if you have to kill every wolf—including the pups—in the whole town. Kill them and get back to Miami. We’ll talk when the job is over.”

  The line went dead.

  “Fuck you, too, Esteban.”

  She almost threw the phone into the river. Instead, she crushed it in her fingers until she heard plastic snapping. She whirled around and leaned back against the railing watching the citizens enjoy their evening. Down one of the piers she caught a glimpse of some pretty blonde hair. Oh yes, the little kayaking bunny with some friends.

  Medea let her gaze travel over the threesome. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was the handsome wolf who’d been with her, with another wolf keeping them company. How cute. She inched her way closer to the pier until she could pick up the scent. Oh the little bunny was hot to trot. The scent of her arousal oozed through the air like cartoon come-hither fingers. And the men…both of them were ready to tap that. And, no surprise, little bunny liked the idea. They were, or soon would be, involved in a disgusting ménage.

  The denizens of this town had looser morals than a warren of real rabbits. As a swan, she clearly knew that monogamy was the rational, moral choice. When had shifters collectively lost their minds?