How could he answer, when he didn’t really know the answer himself? Why even try to understand the man who’d been like a brother to him, then betrayed him so horribly? Yet how many sleepless nights had he paced, trying to do exactly that? To understand the why of it?
He glanced at her, at Alex’s sister, the woman who still believed in fairy tales. She couldn’t begin to understand the depths of the horror he’d witnessed. Blood and death and evil were as foreign to her as love was now to him. She didn’t belong here.
But love and worry for a brother who surely didn’t deserve it made her place her own life in danger.
Unabashedly he studied her. She met his gaze, the same intent look on her mobile features. He saw it now, the resemblance to his former partner, every so often when she turned her head a certain way or smiled at her puppy’s playful antics. They had the same dark brown eyes. Their profiles were similar. But there the resemblance ended. Alex stood over six feet tall, while Brenna barely cleared five feet. Her hair was the color of sable, while Alex was blond. Brenna’s bones were delicate, nearly fragile in appearance, while Alex had the lean, sturdy build of a fighting man.
“I want to know all of it.” He cleared his throat. “Like I said, Alex never mentioned any family.”
“He didn’t have any family left, besides me. Our mother died when we were still teenagers.” Her gaze never wavered from his face. “We were seventeen. After Mom passed away, all we had was each other.”
“What about your father?”
She lifted one shoulder in a gesture he thought was meant to be a shrug that somehow fell short. “Who knows? We never knew him.”
“So—”
Holding up her hand, she smiled. “My turn. Tell me when you first met Alex.”
“Training.” He thought back to that crisp autumn day. He’d been full of exuberance and naive hope. His dream job was finally within reach. “Like the FBI boys, we trained in Quantico, Virginia. Alex was in my class.”
“I didn’t even know,” she marveled. “All he told me was that he had a new job. One he was excited about.”
“Yeah.” Carson tried not to remember how Alex had been the star of their class. His keen intelligence and enthusiasm had been contagious. The mysterious fascination women had for him was a plus for the guys who’d hung with him. “Women flocked to him.”
Brenna laughed. “Even when he was a teenager, he had that problem. Though he did come to like it eventually.”
“You must have had a similar reaction from guys.” Carson hadn’t meant to blurt those words, but he saw from the odd shadow that crossed her face that he’d touched on something sensitive.
“There weren’t many guys,” she said, drawing out the word as if she found it distasteful, “in the small town where I live. I was engaged once, but it didn’t work out. I never went out into the world like Alex.”
Out into the world. Odd choice of phrasing. He studied her face, looking for clues. Though he could have sworn he’d seen a brief flash of pain in her dark eyes, now her expression might have been carved in stone. He opened his mouth to ask his next question.
“Nope. My turn,” she said. “I’m counting that as a question. Since Alex was your partner, exactly what kind of work did you do together?”
“Not office work,” he shot back. “And I really didn’t see my earlier remark as a question. It’s still my turn. I want to know about this fiancé.”
“Wait.” The shadow had returned to her eyes, telling him that he hadn’t imagined it. “I would rather not talk about him. He’s…” She paused for so long that he began to imagine all sorts of crazy things to finish the sentence.
“He’s what?” Carson cocked his head. “A biker? A cop? A—”
“He’s dead,” she said, her expression as bleak as he imagined his was when he talked about his lost family. A thousand other questions came to mind, first and foremost the need to know how he’d died, but Carson decided that could wait for another time. Asking her would have felt too much like tearing the wings off an innocent butterfly.
“And that’s not about Alex. That’s personal.”
“You’re right.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I asked. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry. Go ahead and interrogate me.” He gave her a quick smile, meant to ease the sting of his word choice.
She nodded, relief lightening her gaze. “Okay, then, elaborate, please. You said you and Alex were in the field. You mentioned undercover work. Like police officers or what? Did you assume other identities, different names? What exactly did you do?”
“We were in the Drug Enforcement Agency.” He emphasized the first word. “Our job was to find the people who transported and smuggled drugs. The big guys. We let the local police go after the small fish. And, yes, of course we had false names and identification.”
She looked at him, chewing her bottom lip. Something still bothered her, and Carson thought he might know the reason.
“Did Alex do drugs?” she blurted. “Is that maybe why—”
He’d guessed correctly. “Not that I know of.” He took another look at her face. Again he saw the quick flash of pain in her eyes. “Maybe why…what? Why he killed my family? Wait a minute. You believe me now?”
“I don’t know what to believe.”
He felt the oddest urge to comfort her. Though he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when his own innocence had been destroyed, he knew he’d been a better man before. Now, not only was his innocence gone, but the very reason he had for drawing breath depended on gaining vengeance from the same man who’d had a part in ripping out his heart.
Carson began to pace, the hotel room suddenly seeming too small, too warm, too much like a trap.
“Believe this,” he said, the words coming out raspy, instead of strong, as he’d intended. “Your brother is not the same person you knew. Sometimes when we work undercover—” he remembered the instructor’s lessons in Quantico “—we run the danger of losing our original identity to the new one. Especially if that identity is more exciting, more dangerous. I think that’s what might have happened to Alex.”
“If that were true, Alex would have forgotten I existed. Obviously, he hasn’t.”
He gave a noncommittal nod, risking another quick look out the window. The courtyard now appeared deserted. The parking lot held only his Tahoe and the government-issue sedan.
“Carson?” Brenna’s voice no longer sounded uncertain.
Turning, he saw she’d regained a bit of color in her face.
“How did you know Alex?”
Jamming his hands in his pockets, he forced himself to stand still. “We met at the academy. Why?”
“You knew him well?”
“I thought I did.” He frowned. “But obviously I didn’t.”
“There has to be something,” she persisted. “If you didn’t see him shoot you or your family, you must have some other reason to make you suspect a man you once trusted.”
“I have plenty of reasons.”
“Pick one.” Her tone dry, Brenna crossed her arms.
“I didn’t see anyone else at my house that day.”
“Were you shot first?”
Swallowing, he forced the word out. “Yes.”
“Did you remain conscious?”
Now this was an interrogation. Though he didn’t want to relive that day, he felt as if he owed Brenna the facts. After all, he was asking her to believe horrible things about her beloved brother.
“No. They—he—shot me in the back. I blacked out. When I came to, the rest was already over.”
Her eyes looked huge. Once again her face had gone pale.
God help him, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “Enough,” he said. “No more.”
She inhaled, her chest heaving. “I’m sorry. Let me ask this, then. Do you have any other reason to suspect my brother? Did his behavior change? Did he do anything that seemed weird?”
“Ye
s.” Relief flooded him. Back on solid ground, he could talk about anything but what had happened on that awful day. “Alex first started to change when his wife left him.”
“Wife?” She looked blank. Stunned surprise? Her shock seemed genuine.
“How many sisters don’t even know their brother has gotten married?” he drawled.
“He couldn’t have. He would’ve told me.”
Carson simply shook his head.
“Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?” Her dazed look faded, replaced by one of determination. “I have a snapshot of him in my wallet. Let me get it—”
“Brenna,” he said, “you saw the picture on that datasheet. Face facts. Alex got married, and you didn’t know about it.”
“He didn’t tell me,” she whispered. “How could he not— Where? When?” Brenna took a step toward him, puzzlement clouding her eyes. “Who was she? What was she like?”
He thought back to the three times he’d met Lyssa. “She was a looker,” he said. “Tall and slender, with long, blond hair. Her name was Lyssa. It must have been a whirlwind courtship, because he never really mentioned dating her. One day he just showed up and announced he’d gotten married. We were best friends, and he never even brought her over to my house.”
Brenna swayed. He watched as she visibly took hold of her composure. “Did he—” she licked her lips
“—love her?”
“I guess.” Carson shrugged, watching her closely. “How long did you say it was since you last saw Alex?”
If his question surprised her, she didn’t show it. “Less than a year. Six months. Not long enough for all this—” she gestured vaguely “—to happen.”
“I’ve been looking for him for eighteen months. He was married two years ago,” he said gently. “For whatever reason, he didn’t tell you.”
She closed her eyes, her stunned hurt evident in the way she tightly compressed her lips.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “What on earth has happened to my brother?”
He should have felt victorious or, at the very least, a small bit of grim satisfaction. But as he watched her, one more person The Wolf had managed to hurt with his actions, he felt only aching weariness.
“Don’t try to rationalize. He lied to you. Betrayed me. Alex has changed.”
“I’ll say.” Straightening, she gave him a dark look full of blame as she stalked to the bathroom. “And I mean to find out why.”
With that parting remark, she closed the door firmly. The knob rattled enough to let him know she’d locked it. He didn’t care. The bathroom had no window. If she wanted to blame him, he would let her. Brenna seemed like an intelligent woman. She would realize soon enough that he’d had nothing to do with her brother’s choices.
His cell phone rang. Jack. He wanted a face-to-face and named a restaurant in town.
After one more look out the blinds—still nothing—Carson let the curtain fall back. With a tired sigh, he dropped into the room’s one chair, a burnt-orange monstrosity. He pulled off his alligator boots, setting them neatly side by side under the table.
Just when he’d thought he knew everything, the situation had grown even weirder. Brenna’s shock had been genuine. She truly didn’t know her brother had gotten married. What reason could Alex have had for keeping his marriage a secret? Carson had doubted the marriage from the moment he’d heard about it. He found it even stranger now, since Alex hadn’t even told his own sister.
When Lyssa had run off barely a month after the wedding, his partner had seemed devastated. But Alex had managed to pull himself together. Undercover, a distracted man made deadly mistakes.
In an operation the scope of the one that they’d been part of, neither of them had wanted to jeopardize things. The DEA had been after Hades’ Claws for years. They’d been too close to blow it.
A remembered wave of pain swamped Carson. He ran a hand across his mouth. Once he’d thought his job defined his existence. He’d found out otherwise after his cover had been blown and his family brutally murdered. His job had meant nothing to him then. Nor did it mean anything to him now. Nothing but a vehicle for self-recrimination and blame.
The bathroom door opened. Brenna had run a damp comb through her hair and washed her face. She looked achingly young, though fierce determination shone from her eyes.
“Do you know how to get in touch with this woman?” She made a face. “Alex’s wife?”
He let her have a moment to cross the room, waiting until she sat perched on the end of one bed.
“No one does, and that’s saying a lot,” he said. “Despite hundreds of government resources at my disposal, I couldn’t find her. Though I can’t say for certain, I think she might be dead.”
Chapter 7
Brenna didn’t believe him, not at first. Twisting her hands in her lap, she stared at Carson. Hard. With all the anger and defiance building inside her. She gave him the kind of predatory stare that made most humans back away.
But he seemed oblivious. Either that, or he simply didn’t care.
“Dead,” she repeated, when she could find her voice. “How convenient. Are you… Are you sure?”
He shrugged. She wasn’t fooled by his nonchalance. Pain carved lines in his face. “Alex thought she might be. He worried.”
“Was there a—” again she struggled to find the words “—a funeral?”
“No. We never found a body.”
Her stomach roiled. “This is ridiculous.”
“Yep.” Unsmiling, he watched her. “She disappeared off the face of the earth.”
Again hurt blossomed in her, bringing unwanted tears to her eyes and a need to strike out at something—anything. With an effort she stayed seated, for though she wanted to attack Carson, none of this was his fault. She took several deep breaths and was able to push her feelings aside.
“Seems I’m the bearer of bad news,” he said.
“I was just thinking that,” she said, startled at the way his words mirrored her thoughts. “I can’t help but think—”
“That Alex’s bad luck began when he met me?” His voice sounded harsh; his expression was even more so. She recognized the anger in his tone, mixed with guilt and hurt.
She jumped to her feet, jumbled emotion propelling her as she padded across the room to stand in front of him. Impassive, he regarded her, expectation plain in his face. His emotions fed her own. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. They breathed in unison. Intensity flared from him to her and back again.
Brenna unclenched her fists, her heart pounding. Her anger leached out of her, becoming something else. Something that vibrated between them, silent but equally powerful.
“There’s no sense in this,” she said quietly, her body thrumming with desire. Though she wanted to, she seemed unable to look away. Despite his closed expression, she sensed a certain vulnerability in him.
Before, he had kissed her. Now she wanted to kiss him. She took a step closer. Then another. Reaching out, she buried her hand in his thick, sable hair.
A shudder ran through him. She felt its echo in her own thundering heartbeat. Inhaling, she took in his scent. Spicy, musky, male.
One more small movement and they met, chest to chest. She wanted more, wanted to strip off her clothes and his, then wrap herself fully around him, belly to belly. She felt him quicken against her in a rush of hardness, felt her own body respond with warmth and moisture. Flicking her tongue against the corded muscles of his neck, she tasted the salty desire on his skin, breathed it in the air.
He groaned. “Brenna, no—”
Standing on tiptoe, she covered his mouth with her own. “Shh.” Urgency and need, confusion and sorrow all combined in her kiss. Her body heat increased, as it always did when she became aroused. Making wordless sounds of desire, she drank of him deeply, drawing out of him the bottled emotions he’d kept to himself for so long.
Again he groaned. Nestled snugly in the juncture of his thighs, she felt his
body surge against her, even as he used his arms to push her away.
“No.” Shoulders heaving, he turned his back to her, visibly struggling to regain control. “Damn it, I want to forget, too, Brenna. Believe me, I do. But not this way, not by using you.”
Stung, she said the first thing that came to her mind. “It’s not a betrayal, you know.”
He swung around so quickly that she sucked in her breath.
“Every breath I take is a betrayal,” he ground out. “I should be dead, not them. And though there is a certain kind of irony in me screwing their murderer’s sister, I can’t do that to their memory.”
All that had burned inside her went still at his words. “It’s been eighteen months,” she said quietly. Her throat ached. The pulse pounding in her temple, the conflicting emotions that flooded her made her head hurt. How could she want to attack and comfort someone all at the same time? How could mere words cause so much pain?
Face grim, he held up an unsteady hand. “Enough. You’ve had a lot of surprises today. I understand what you’re feeling. You want a channel for your anger. That’s understandable.”
His clinical observations amused her. “And what of your own body? You wanted me, Carson. Lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t hide your arousal.”
“You’re a beautiful woman,” he said quietly. “And it’s been a long time since I—”
“Made love?”
“Had sex. Think about it, Brenna. You’ll realize this isn’t what you want.”
Though his clearheaded logic irked her, she considered his words. He’d made it clear that this would have been sex, sheer lust. Her breasts still tingled. She crossed her arms to cover her pebbled nipples and inhaled. Why had she thought that when the two of them came together, it would have been making love? Carson was right. Damn it. Though he aroused her, she didn’t want a fleeting sexual fling. Much like the wolves they became when they changed, her kind mated for life.
“We need to eat,” she said, changing the subject. “I’m starving.”
Slowly he nodded, still watching her. “Right. We do.” Glancing at the window, he frowned and consulted his watch. “Let’s wait until after dark.”
The Wolf Princess: The Wolf PrincessOne Eye Open (The Pack) Page 31
