by Terry Spear
“You’re so funny,” she said sarcastically.
He chuckled and stood. She thought he might join her, but he probably wasn’t interested in smelling like lavender. The scent had a calming effect, though, and smelled divine.
He handed her a washcloth. “If you need me for anything, just holler. I’ll be talking with Paul in the living room, trying to sort out what’s going on.”
Then after one more longing look at the water—she wasn’t sure if it was because he wished he could see the part of her buried under the bubbles or if he just wished he could soak his muscles in the warm water, too—he left and closed the door behind him.
She figured that Paul had made Finn come to his senses. That Finn realized he shouldn’t have been with her like he’d been. She knew Paul was right, but she couldn’t help feeling a bone-deep disappointment.
She wasn’t sure what she liked so much about Finn. Maybe how after she’d expected him to really be angry with her, he had acted chivalrously instead by taking the blame for not protecting her better. Or how he’d been ashamed that he hadn’t been doing what he was supposed to while watching her. Or maybe the way he had come for her last night, worried that she was leaving him and sleeping in another room, and he wasn’t having any of it. She still didn’t know if he had wanted to make sure she was well protected or to prove to her he could keep his hands off her the rest of the night. Not that he had, but at least they had slept the rest of the evening and hadn’t pleasured each other again.
But even so, she had dreamed a fantasy scenario of having him all over again in the middle of the night, only that time he was fully inside her. She sighed. All good things must come to an end, she told herself.
With that disconcerting thought, she closed her eyes and considered what she might have done that would make anyone think she’d somehow managed to save Hunter and his team on their last mission. That could be the root of all the trouble they were in now, she thought as the jets continued to shoot pulsating columns of water at her tender muscles.
All she could think of was Hunter’s leaving, and how he wouldn’t let her date Cyn Iverson while he was away on that final SEAL mission.
What had Finn said? Only that Bjornolf had told him she’d saved them. But what had she done? She envisioned the day the men had left. Hunter packing his gear. Her glowering at him. Probably having a heated word or two. She knew he was obligated to do the mission, but she hated that he was trying to control her life so much, whether he was off on a mission or home on leave. The man she was supposed to have a date with had been such a gentleman that she couldn’t understand Hunter’s objection to her seeing him. Cyn hadn’t done one thing to make Hunter dislike him so.
Bubbles popped under her chin as she sank deeper into the bathwater, wishing it would stay hot longer. Her cell phone rang, startling her. She turned off the jets and reached over the tub to snag the phone from her pants pocket. Expecting Hunter to be calling her, she yanked the phone out, and without looking to see the caller ID, said, “Hello?”
“It’s Rourke.”
At first she was so surprised he’d called that she just sat there staring at the phone. Then, regaining her wits, she asked, “Rourke, why are you calling me?”
Since Rourke was newly turned, normally his handler, Chris, would have called her. If anything was going on with the pack that she should know about, one of her long-term pack members would have gotten in touch with her. Rourke should have gone through Chris.
“I’m a reporter,” he said, sounding annoyed, as if he knew just what she had been thinking.
“So?”
The bathwater was beginning to grow uncomfortably cool, and she was starting to wrinkle, so she had intended to get out and wanted him to get to the point.
Rourke said hotly, “An investigative reporter. Nobody in the pack will let me write about anything but the most unimportant drivel. But one of my watchdogs—”
“Watchdogs?” Meara said, annoyed.
“Watch-wolves, whatever. I can’t believe lupus garous have such a hang-up about being referred to in any way as dogs. They are loyal and man’s best—”
“Rourke, what do you have to tell me that’s so important you didn’t wait to tell Chris?”
A heavy pause followed as if Rourke was trying to forget the issue of being referred to as dogs or wolves. Then he said, “Chris mentioned something about a card being left with one of Hunter’s SEAL team members, Allan, when he was wounded in Pompano Beach. The card was the Knight of Swords. I asked if Chris had talked to you, and he said he didn’t want to bother you with it. Do you know what it means?”
“No, I’ve never heard of it.” Why hadn’t Chris wanted to tell her about it? Even if she didn’t know what it meant, if a sub-leader of the pack knew, then she should have been informed.
“It’s a tarot card picturing a young man riding a white horse, sword raised, as he’s charging into battle. The card symbolizes taking risk, rushing headlong into danger. It represents an impulsive reaction, without a lot of thought given to the course of action that needs to be taken. The individual is full of passion, nearly blinded with the drive to accomplish the mission without regard for his own safety.”
All of a sudden Meara felt as though Rourke was talking about her. “We are talking about whoever left the calling card, right?”
“Yes. If the card is turned upside down, it means becoming a loner—taking risk, trying to show one’s own independence.”
Hell, it still sounded like Rourke was talking about her. “So which way was it turned?”
“When Allan was discovered in his injured state, the card had been inadvertently turned sideways. One of your pack members said that if the man was acting alone, the card was probably turned upside down. If he enlisted a pack, the card was probably turned right side up.”
Meara considered the way she took risks, impulsively and determinedly. She’d never endangered anyone but herself. So where was the wrong in that? Immediate action had been needed to protect lives in peril. Well, the lady whose purse had been snatched hadn’t been in danger, unless she’d had nitroglycerin pills in her bag for a heart condition. But she might have!
Meara lifted her chin higher. If she was like the Knight of Swords and whoever was in charge of this operation was also, he’d met his match.
Rourke continued to speak. “Hunter feels it has to do with his final SEAL mission, the botched rescue mission. With three of the hostages dying before Finn pulled two others to safety.”
She stared at the bubbles covering the water, trying to envision Finn rescuing two of the hostages alone while the others on the team were injured and unable to help. She hadn’t thought any of the hostages had made it, and a mixture of disbelief and relief filled her. “Are you certain?”
“It’s classified.”
“But you have knowledge of the details!” She only knew that Hunter and the others had been wounded, that Finn had managed to avoid any injury, and that he’d helped them all to safety. A Navy SEAL buddy never left his own behind. But still, she hadn’t known he’d accomplished part of their mission. That he alone had further risked his life to save the remaining hostages. She’d thought the whole thing had been a total disaster.
“I told you. I’m an investigative reporter and a damned good one at that.”
“What happened that day?”
He was quiet, then before she could demand that he tell her, he said, “One of the women who’d been taken hostage and died during the rescue mission had a brother who was in the Navy.”
“A Navy SEAL,” Meara whispered, guessing at the truth.
“Yeah,” he said darkly.
“What was his name?” she asked, barely able to get the words out, her skin chilled with anticipation at hearing what it was, figuring the man was on some kind of vendetta now.
“Cyn Iverson.”
“Cyn Iverson,” she said, choking on the words, never in a million years having thought it would be someone she’d known, albeit briefly.
Or that he was the same man who had wanted to date her but Hunter had said no. Or that he was trying to track her down now. A chill swept over her wet skin.
She’d never considered that he might be a Navy SEAL. Did he hold a grudge against Hunter and the team for his sister’s death? He must have cared very much for her.
“Did you know him?” Rourke asked.
“Ah, briefly.” And then Meara’s lower lip dropped. Did Cyn mean to kill her because Hunter hadn’t saved Cyn’s sister in time? For revenge?
“What’s this all about?” Rourke prompted.
“He seemed so mild-mannered, not in the least bit impulsive or headstrong. Not like the Knight of Swords, if he was supposed to fit the description from what you’ve told me. Unless he was a chameleon, acting one way but hiding his true character. Still, from what I’ve seen of him, I can’t imagine he might be involved in any of this.”
Rourke made a scoffing noise. “Someone sure as hell is involved in this. And from the sound of it, he could feel he has a very good reason.”
She thought back to the day she’d met Cyn. He had acted impulsively by taking her out, realizing that she was with a pack and that they wouldn’t like her going to dinner with a wolf they knew nothing about. What if he had taken her to dinner with some other nefarious intent…
What if he’d wanted to be on the team that had tried to rescue the hostages? What if he resented not being allowed to go and felt that his not being there had meant his sister’s death? What if Meara hadn’t been Cyn’s real interest at all? And now he was hunting her down. Thank God, Chris hadn’t known where she was and couldn’t have let Cyn know, not realizing he might be behind all this.
Her stomach tied in knots, she took a deep, settling breath. “He met me in Sacramento, and we had a dinner date. You probably heard about it.”
Rourke didn’t say anything for a minute as if he was thinking about it. Then he said, “The time Chris was supposed to be watching you at a bookstore, and you got away from him, and Hunter chewed Chris out?”
“That’s the time.”
“Yeah, I heard about it. A couple of guys were saying what a handful you were and they were glad they didn’t have the job.”
Knowing that word had probably spread among the pack members and was still juicy gossip months later, she shook her head. “Thanks, Rourke. If you learn anything more, let me know.”
“I will. I meant to tell Hunter, but I can’t reach him. And no one thinks I’m important enough to be allowed to call that guy who’s watching over you, even though I attempted to locate his number anyway.”
“Finn.”
“Yeah. Chris won’t let me talk to you, saying everything has to go through him. But I thought you should know, and you could pass the information along to Hunter and whoever else has a need to know.”
“No one else knows but you and me?”
“No. I dug up the information on my own. Cyn’s sister had been married three times, changing names each time, so it took some digging to learn her birth name. She wasn’t a wolf.”
Meara stared sightlessly at the bubbles in her bath. “He was a wolf.”
“Yeah, well, she wasn’t. He was changed a few years back, but she was still human.”
That didn’t make sense. Either Cyn hadn’t had the heart to change her or he had felt she wouldn’t want to be a wolf. In Tessa’s case, she’d refused to leave her brother the way he was, as close to him as she was. Meara knew that despite her differences with Hunter, if she’d been turned, she would have turned him, too.
“I’ll… I’ll pass along the information. And, Rourke, even if I haven’t said it before, you’ve been a welcome addition to the pack. No trouble at all.”
And she meant it from the bottom of her heart. When she’d learned Hunter had turned the reporter by accident, she knew it would be a disaster. But Rourke had readily accepted his role, and even shape-shifting hadn’t seemed to be much of a problem for him. Most of the time. Still, he had to be watched over, like any recently turned, mateless werewolf, to ensure he didn’t make a mistake, and if he did, so it could be rectified quickly.
Rourke was quiet and then said, “Thank you.”
In that small bit of thanks, she heard a world of appreciation for what she’d said. That made her wish she’d said it earlier. She wasn’t in a habit of doling out praise for any little thing, which would make the praise not worth giving or receiving. Still, she should have said something before this.
She’d make it up to Rourke and show her appreciation to him somehow later, when assassins weren’t out to get her. She frowned. If Cyn was behind this, was it because Hunter’s sister was alive when his own was dead? But if he had been that close to his sister, Meara couldn’t understand why he hadn’t bitten and changed her. As a human, she would grow old and die, and he’d lose her eventually while he’d live on for eons. Something wasn’t right.
Goose flesh erupted on her arms, and she felt another chill race through her.
“I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got to tell Finn what you’ve learned. Thanks again.” She ended the call, but before she could lift the phone over the tub and set it on the floor away from the bubbles, the phone slipped from her soapy hand and landed in the bathwater.
Frantically, she grabbed for it, searching for the phone at the bottom of the tub. She grasped it, fished it out, and tried to turn it on. No sign of life. “Damn it all, anyway.” She dropped the dead phone on her pants outside the tub.
“Finn!” she called out, trying to get out of the tub. Oh, oh, oh. Her muscles reacted with twinges of pain in her hip and thigh when she tried to stand, reminding her that she was still sore and bruised.
She was reaching for a towel, her skin dripping with water and soap bubbles, when Finn and Paul barged into the bathroom with guns drawn. She gave a startled squeak, not expecting to see Paul with Finn, or that Finn would come that quickly. As she drew the sunny yellow towel around her, she said, “I’m all right. I just think I might know who was involved in that fiasco of a last mission of yours.”
“Who?” Finn asked, holstering his gun, while Paul took in way too much of her towel-clad but mostly naked body.
“The guy Hunter wouldn’t let me date when he was going on the mission. Although the card that was left behind with Allan doesn’t seem to represent Cyn’s behavior in the least.”
“Sin?” both Finn and Paul said at once.
“Do you know him?” she asked, climbing out of the tub and the much-too-cool water as Finn quickly grabbed her arm to steady her.
“No,” Finn said with a snort. “I just wondered how he ever came up with the name ‘Sin,’ and how anyone let him get near you. For that matter, how the hell do you know about the tarot card?”
“Cyn. C-Y-N, Cyn, short for Cynric, which he said comes from his Anglo-Saxon roots. He said it means powerful.”
Finn narrowed his eyes at her.
“Well, I thought he was referring to…” She gave a slight cough. “You know, the way he gave me this wickedly sinful look, like… well…” She couldn’t help the blush warming her cheeks and sliding all the way down her skin. “But then he explained his name was Anglo-Saxon in origin and…” She shrugged.
Finn’s expression was still rigid as ice, and Paul was staring at her just as hard.
“Who told you about the card?” Finn asked.
“Rourke, the reporter, newly turned. You met him at the morgue.”
“How the hell did he know?”
“Well, hell, Finn, it seems everyone in the pack knew about that but me. Chris told him.” She glowered at Finn.
“And you know what it means?”
“Of course.” Rourke had told her, but she wasn’t letting Finn know that she hadn’t had a clue before that.
Finn gave her an elusive smile. “When I learned the meaning of the Knight of Swords, someone came immediately to mind.”
“Let me guess.” She looked at the sparkly ceiling and then eyed Finn with annoyance
. “You?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “What did he look like?”
“Let me get dressed, and I’ll describe him the best I can.”
Finn and Paul didn’t budge from the bathroom as Finn asked, “Did Hunter see him?”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t he want you seeing the man?” Finn asked, frowning again at her.
She gave him the same annoyed look back, not caring for his harsh tone. “He didn’t like his name, or what he said it meant, if you have to know.”
The way Finn was scowling at her, she could tell he didn’t like Cyn, either. Although she thought there was a deeper reason for Hunter not liking Cyn, but he wouldn’t disclose it.
“If you’ll both leave, I’ll get dressed, and then I’ll tell you more.”
“Tell me what, Meara?”
“He was a Navy SEAL, one of you guys. His sister was one of the hostages that died on the island during your last mission.”
Finn stared at her in disbelief, but she figured he was coming to his own conclusions about what that might mean. Paul was looking just as stunned.
“Go,” she said, motioning to the door with her free hand. “I’ll tell you what else I know after I get dressed.”
Finn gave her a stiff nod, fearing the worst—Bjornolf had been right. Meara was the one the assassin had been targeting, and now they might just have the reason.
He ushered Paul toward the door, already pulling his phone out and punching in a button. “Hunter?” he said, closing the bathroom door behind him. “What do you know about the guy Meara wanted to date named Cynric Iverson, Cyn for short. Yeah, besides that you didn’t like his damn name or what he said it stood for.”
“He called me and wanted to be on our team before I asked Allan to join us, and I said no to Iverson.”
“So what was the problem?”
“He wanted Meara, and he wasn’t good enough for her. But I suspected he was just using her to make points with me, thinking that if she fell in love with him and vouched for him, I’d let him join my team. He didn’t have the training that we needed to get the mission done. Hell, if this has to do with him, I’ll kill the son of a bitch.” Hunter didn’t say anything for a couple of heartbeats as Finn wondered how close Cyn had gotten with Meara before Hunter put an end to it.
