A SEAL in Wolf's Clothing hotw-9

by Terry Spear

  Yet something had woken—her phone. In the bathroom. She’d been so tired that she must have left her clothes in there when she’d taken her shower earlier. Her phone was in her jeans pocket underneath the rest of her things, lying on one corner of the bathroom counter.

  She hurried to answer before whoever it was hung up. Just as she reached into her jeans pocket, the phone jingle quit. Typical. But when she pulled the phone out, she found the missed call was from Chris, the pack sub-leader. She worried something had gone wrong with Rourke, since Chris was tasked with baby-sitting him and would have to let her know if that was the case.

  She pushed the button to redial Chris’s number. As soon as he answered, she asked, “Chris, is Rourke all right?”

  For a moment, Chris didn’t say anything, and she was afraid something else was wrong and her question had thrown him.

  “No,” he said in a grouchy way, reminding her how much he didn’t like Hunter having given him the baby-sitting job, even though it showed how much he trusted Chris.

  “What’s wrong?” Now she was grumpy and tired, and she didn’t appreciate being woken up for nothing.

  Chris’s attitude toward Rourke had irritated her, once she’d gotten over the fact that Hunter had added Rourke to the pack by accident. If she could accept Rourke, everybody in the pack should. He was a nice enough guy, and he tried damned hard to fit in, readily acknowledging that he was a werewolf once the deed had been done. At least as far as she’d seen.

  “Did that Cyn Iverson get in touch with you?”

  She stared at the bathroom mirror, barely seeing her disheveled appearance because her mind was trying to sort out what Chris was saying. “Cyn Iverson?” she finally asked. Instantly, she thought of the figure by the pine tree at the hotel where Anna was staying.

  “Yeah, he said he’d been out of the country on a job and had just gotten back in, and he wanted to hook up with you. Once he learned you’d left California, he traced the pack here. I told him you were staying somewhere but didn’t know the exact address. He said he’d find you.”

  She felt a slight chill. “How?”

  “How should I know? I thought maybe you’d kept in touch with him. I have no idea who you’re seeing, or whether Hunter approves or not.”

  She parted her lips, then closed them. Okay, so Chris was still irritated about her having gone out to dinner with Cyn. Hunter had chewed Chris out royally for letting her get away from him during her shopping trip to Sacramento. She hadn’t apologized to Chris about it, either. Why should she have? She had every right to eat out with Cyn, and she wasn’t the one who had forced Chris to get hung up in a video store, perusing the merchandise.

  “I’m worried about you,” Chris finally said, and this time her jaw dropped. “Hell,” he continued, “I just wanted to warn you that the guy is looking for you and—”

  “Did you tell Hunter?”

  “No. I figured you could. I didn’t tell the guy where you were. Hell, I don’t know where you are.”

  “In a safe house. And perfectly safe. Thanks for telling me.” Now she felt bad because even though she’d speculated that Chris had a secret affection for her, he’d always acted annoyed with her because she was looking for a mate and not giving him the time of day. If he’d teased her about it, maybe, or handled it some other way, his behavior might not have irritated her so much. “Finn will keep me safe.”

  Dead silence.

  Was that what was eating at Chris? That he hadn’t gotten the job of protecting her? That an outsider like Finn, a good and loyal friend of Hunter’s, would get the job instead of a trusted sub-leader within the pack?

  She sighed. “You’ve got your hands full, Chris. You’re doing a great job.”

  “Baby-sitting Rourke, sure.” The bitterness was back.

  Yeah, he was irritated all right. He had to watch over Rourke instead of protecting her.

  She was going to say she’d tell Finn that the guy she had wanted to see was trying to locate her, but she thought better of it. She knew Finn would want to know all about this man, and there wasn’t anything to say about him. Besides, now that Hunter was no longer in the Navy, maybe he wouldn’t be so against her seeing the guy. Finn certainly wasn’t interested in her long-term. And all in all, she wanted a mate.

  “I’m going back to bed. ’Night, Chris.”

  “Meara…”

  His hesitation told her he wanted to say something more. She assumed he wanted to smooth things over between them, but she wasn’t interested in him as a prospective mate. Never had been and never would be.

  “’Night,” he finally said, sounding resigned. And hung up.

  She’d be glad when Hunter returned home to continue mentoring Rourke. She hoped her brother didn’t plan on leaving Chris with the job because he’d be impossible to live with.

  With that thought, she grabbed her clothes from the bathroom counter and wondered if Cyn had taken a room at the hotel where Anna was. It had been late, and the cabin resort would still have been an hour away. Besides, Meara would have been in bed by then. Seeing Finn with her had stopped Cyn from approaching her. She’d just bet he called the pack sub-leaders, or at least one of them, to learn if she was mated before he wasted his effort on trying to see her further.

  Since Cyn was still trying to locate her, Chris must have said that Finn was staying with her to keep her out of trouble, not that he was a potential mate.

  Maybe she still could see if Cyn might be her kind of wolf.

  * * *

  Meara sure as hell knew how to make him hard in a hurry, Finn thought. He had finally managed to sleep a few hours but woke wanting her again. She couldn’t know how much he’d fought the desire to haul her into his bed in the master bedroom the night before when he’d found her in the bathroom freshening up. If she’d thought to sleep in his bed, away from him, she’d have never managed it.

  Daylight was dawning as he breathed in her sweet fragrance and then frowned to smell the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen. That’s what had awakened him. As light a sleeper as he was, he was fairly certain he would have noticed if the sultry siren still wrapped in his arms had awakened and left to make the coffee, even for a moment.

  Intent on ensuring that the person who’d started the coffee was one of their operatives and not someone dangerous—although he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to do them harm who would brew coffee first—Finn slipped out from under Meara, trying not to disturb her slumber. He grabbed his gun off the bedside table and moved down the hall in stealth mode.

  Upon reaching the dining area, he glimpsed Bjornolf watching out the back porch window, studying the ocean as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Still angered about the man kissing Meara without her permission and now breaking into the safe house without permission, Finn stormed toward Bjornolf.

  He moved so quickly and silently, like a stealthy SEAL and a wolf combined, that he caught the intruder off guard. Bjornolf turned, as if suddenly aware of Finn’s approach. But Bjornolf reacted too late.

  Finn’s fist smacked him in the jaw, throwing the startled deep-cover operative off balance, and he went down.

  Sitting on his butt on the tile floor, his back resting against a kitchen cabinet, Bjornolf rubbed his reddening jaw and stared up at Finn. “What the hell was that for?”

  “You know what the hell that was for.” Finn set his gun on the kitchen counter and poured himself a mug of coffee.

  Realization apparently dawning, Bjornolf’s mouth curved up some. “She didn’t kiss me back, if that’s what you’re pissed off about. But I didn’t think she’d tell you about it.”

  Bjornolf’s gaze shifted to the dining room, and Finn turned to see Meara observing the two of them, slack jawed.

  She wore only that skimpy damned pajama shorts set, which was fine for Finn’s eye, but not for Bjornolf’s.

  “Want some coffee?” Finn asked Meara, pulling another mug from the cupboard. He wanted to hustle her back to the bedr
oom to get dressed, but he figured if he made a fuss about it, he would draw Meara’s ire and no doubt earn Bjornolf’s amusement.

  “Why is Bjornolf here?” she asked, her voice almost inaudible, making him suspect that she had just walked in and hadn’t seen him hit Bjornolf—or even realized Bjornolf was here at first.

  “Apparently, he decided to come and make us some early-morning coffee.” Finn cast Bjornolf an irritated look.

  Frowning, she asked, “Why is he sitting on the floor?”

  Finn glanced down at him, and Bjornolf grinned at her as he rose to his feet, rubbing his jaw again. “Finn packs quite a punch. Seems you told him I kissed you last night in the lobby, and he was defending your honor.”

  “He hit you?” She gave Finn a severe look, then set his phone on the counter and turned her attention back to Bjornolf. “Finn didn’t need to. My honor is quite intact.” Motioning to Finn’s phone, she said to him, “Anna called and said Paul had arrived safely last night. I thought you might want to know that.”

  Glad that Paul and Anna could watch each other’s backs, Finn said, “Good.” He poured Meara a cup of coffee, although he still wanted her to return to the bedroom and put more clothes on. But when he handed the mug to her, she shook her head and marched past him.

  “Give it to Bjornolf. I’ll drink some green tea, if they’ve got any.”

  Finn silently handed Bjornolf the second cup of coffee, which he accepted with a polite nod.

  Meara pulled out a box of green tea flavored with mandarin oranges. “We’re all on the same side so I expect you both to play nice.” She started a kettle of water and turned to Bjornolf. “But you really should have been more careful when you came here. You should have knocked on the front door or something first. You could have been shot sneaking into the house. At least I assume that’s what you did.”

  “No place around here to get a decent cup of coffee.” Bjornolf smiled at her. “As to my getting injured? Finn’s too good at his job. He would have known it was just me.”

  She eyed Finn, but he didn’t make a comment. Meara was right, he thought. He might have shot Bjornolf, but he had picked up Bjornolf’s scent as he’d drawn closer to the kitchen. Then again, the way he was feeling about Bjornolf kissing Meara, he still might have shot him, just on principle. He smiled at the thought, and Bjornolf gave him a hint of a knowing smile in return.

  Meara poured the hot water in a teacup, dipped the bag a few times, then tossed it in the trash and headed out of the kitchen without another word to them.

  “Truce?” Bjornolf asked Finn before she disappeared down the hall.

  Finn grunted in response.

  Bjornolf eyed Meara with intrigue. When he caught Finn’s look, he raised his free hand in surrender but then said, “I’ll get her permission next time.”

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  “Fat chance of that, Finn.”

  Finn’s fist shot out so quickly that Bjornolf didn’t expect it this time, either. As soon as Finn’s fist connected with the man’s eye, Bjornolf dropped his coffee mug on the tile floor, breaking it and splattering the remaining coffee at his feet before he hit the counter with his backside. And grinned.

  “Hell, no one told me you were a professional boxer.”

  “You didn’t uncover that when you were checking up on us?” Finn asked, sipping his coffee. He wasn’t a professional boxer, but he’d had the training, which came in handy for situations just like this.

  * * *

  Meara finished dressing in a pair of khaki pants and an emerald-green tank top, leaving her feet bare. She slumped in a chair in the bedroom after hearing the sound of a mug breaking on the kitchen floor. She suspected Finn had socked Bjornolf again after telling him that next time he’d need to get permission before he kissed her. She should have objected to Finn’s treatment of Bjornolf. After all, Bjornolf hadn’t really done anything to warrant getting another fist in his face, or at least she figured that’s where Finn had aimed. Bjornolf did say he’d ask next time.

  And she’d say no. He was handsome and sexy as all get out but way too smooth a talker for her. From past experience, she didn’t trust the type. On the other hand, Bjornolf had taken the punch good-humoredly the first time. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad sort after all.

  She took another sip of her hot tea. Either Finn thought he was taking her brother’s place in making sure someone who wasn’t right for her didn’t take advantage of her, or he was more than jealous of Bjornolf’s attentions toward her. Taking great satisfaction in the notion that he was jealous, she smiled.

  She ought to let them deal with this on their own, but it was all about her, and she didn’t want them fighting each other over nothing. Especially since she knew neither was interested in settling down with a mate. And she was afraid that this time Bjornolf would be quite angry if Finn hit him again.

  She sighed and set her teacup on the dresser, then headed back down the hall. She intended to get them both ice packs to help reduce the bruising and swelling that she sure would have resulted. Finn’s hand had to hurt, and Bjornolf’s face, too.

  But what she found surprised her. Both men were sitting in lounge chairs on the back deck, watching the ocean and drinking mugs of coffee, neither talking, just enjoying the view. Well, she guessed they didn’t need her to help them sort out their differences.

  Good. It was best she stay out of it.

  She was about to return to the bedroom to get her teacup and fix some more tea when she heard someone in the garage. Before she could warn Finn or Bjornolf to check it out, the door flung open, and she let out a squawk.

  Finn was the first one barging into the kitchen from the deck with gun drawn to protect her. Bjornolf raced in on Finn’s heels, armed in the same manner.

  “Paul, hell,” Finn exclaimed. “You should have warned me you were on your way over here from Anna’s hotel.”

  “Sorry, Paul,” Meara said, studying the blond-bearded man, whose brown eyes were focused on her. He was as tall as Bjornolf and Finn, but he was thinner, wirier, less muscled. “I didn’t recognize you wearing a beard, and you scared me when you, barged in so suddenly.”

  Paul shook his head. “Sorry, Meara. I hadn’t meant to frighten you.”

  Heart still palpitating, Meara sat on a kitchen bar stool and hid her shaking hands in her lap. She had been sure the man was another assassin out to get her and Finn. “No problem.”

  Paul turned to scowl at Finn. “Hunter said hands off, damn it, Finn. You can watch Anna’s back in the future. I’ll stay with Meara and watch hers from now on.”

  Meara’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d thought Paul had word that an assassin’s attack was imminent. But she’d never have thought he’d be worried about Finn’s intentions toward her.

  “You don’t have to worry about Finn,” she said soberly. “Hunter’s got him shaking in his combat boots. He won’t take advantage of me.” At least not if she didn’t approve first. But as far as wanting a mating, no chance at that. She cast a glance in Bjornolf’s direction.

  He held his hands up in surrender, his eye and jaw discoloring. “I’m keeping out of this one. Finn’s all yours, Paul.”

  Finn was looking amused about Meara’s comment, though. She was sure no one had ever described him as shaking in his combat boots.

  Finn shook his head at Paul. “What did Anna say to get you all riled up?”

  “Enough.” Paul’s eyes turned stormy, and his lips thinned with anger as he regarded Finn with hostility. He was wearing blue jeans and a Hawaiian shirt with eye-hurting pink palm trees and green flamingoes, which didn’t make him look as lethal as she knew he could be.

  She wondered where he’d been staying before he’d arrived on the coast. She didn’t want to ask him what Anna had said about her and Finn in case Anna had seen what they had been doing on the beach before she’d joined them.

  But what she really wanted to know was why Anna wa
s watching out for Meara’s welfare. Trying to make brownie points with Hunter? Or was Anna more interested in Finn than Meara had thought and wanted to get everyone worked up? Whatever her reasoning, she’d stirred up a hornet’s nest.

  It also made her wonder about Paul’s motivation. Was he truly jealous that Finn had gone beyond the call of duty when Paul himself hadn’t had a chance? Or was Paul more concerned that he hadn’t stepped in soon enough on Hunter’s behalf?

  “Hunter called me and said you’d left his sister alone, and then this guy…” Paul jerked his thumb at Bjornolf, “…could have taken advantage of her. But Anna said you’ve also been overstepping your boundaries with Meara and that needs to be stopped, or she’ll tell Hunter.”

  Meara frowned, not liking that Anna had threatened such a thing. That made her think Anna secretly did have a fondness for Finn that he might not even be aware of.

  At that, Finn gave Paul a disgruntled look. “For everyone’s information, Meara’s a big girl and can make her own decisions.”

  “Hallelujah,” Meara said. “Someone finally recognizes that.”

  “Did you ask Hunter for permission?” Paul persisted as if he hadn’t heard what Finn had said.

  “I don’t need permission,” Finn continued. “Only Meara’s.”

  “That’s not what Hunter says.”

  “He’s changed his mind.”

  Ha! When the hell had that happened? Finn ought to know he’d get caught in the lie.

  Paul’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re mating her?”

  Meara could have laughed at the shocked expression on Finn’s face. She gave him a moment to allow him to backpedal, but when he still didn’t respond, she figured she’d put him out of his misery and take control of the situation. Like an alpha female would. “No, he’s not mating me. I wouldn’t have him. Or you, or Bjornolf, either. Allan, now he’s a different story.”