Terry Spear’s Wolf Bundle

by Terry Spear

  “Hey, Rourke! What brings you way out here?” Not wanting to get her hopes up too much, she prayed he’d found something that would help her brother’s case.

  His cheeks red, Rourke drew closer and wiped his runny nose on a handkerchief. He gave Hunter a long, hard look, although Hunter continued nailing up boards and didn’t spare Rourke another glance.

  “I worried about you being alone in this ice storm. An eighteen-wheeler plowed into an electric transformer. I tried calling, but ice storms brought the phone lines down. I see you had some storm damage.” He looked around. “Good thing you were able to hire a handyman to board up the window this quickly. Guess someone dropped him off.”

  “Where’s your pickup?” Tessa asked, not wanting to explain who Hunter was when she wasn’t even sure herself.

  Besides, if Rourke knew the story, he would propose taking Hunter into town to see the doctor and get him away from her, then where would she be? Probably Rourke would offer to stay with her in Hunter’s place, as if he could be the kind of help Hunter was. She imagined Rourke had never cooked anything over an open fire for one. And replace a window? Never. He’d offer to keep her warm during the night, but she wasn’t interested in him like that.

  “My truck’s up that way.” Rourke waved in the direction, and then looked Hunter over really good. “Slid off the road and couldn’t get any traction. Figured since you were alone, I’d stay with you until the ice melted.”

  How could she say no, if he was stuck? But she still didn’t want to explain Hunter.

  “I’ll help you get on your way.” Hunter’s voice was low and gruff.

  Rourke was sure to not like Hunter’s suggestion. He raised his brows, and then turned to Tessa. “Let’s go inside. I’m chilled to the bone. I see you have a fire going.”

  Tessa looked back at Hunter. He still needed to nail up three more boards.

  “I’ll manage,” he said to her.

  She waffled. She’d promised to help, but she didn’t want reporter Rourke snooping through her things if she told him to go inside and get warmed by the fire while she helped Hunter.

  He cast her a glance. “I’m nearly done. Go, Tessa. I’ll be inside in a minute for another cup of hot coffee. If you wouldn’t mind making us some more.”

  Rourke glowered at Hunter.

  “All right,” she said to Lord Hunter. She felt she should be curtseying to him. Handyman, hell. He was the rooster that ruled the henhouse. Her henhouse.

  “You know, Tessa,” Rourke said, as he escorted her to the front door, his hand on the small of her back, “you let people walk all over you too much. Take the hired hand, for instance, he should be doing the job you’re paying him, and you shouldn’t be in this awful weather helping him.”

  She thought she heard Hunter growl when Rourke touched her, and she could have strangled Rourke for speaking loudly enough for Hunter to hear.

  “I don’t like it,” Rourke continued, as he walked inside with Tessa and shut the door. “You’re by yourself and the company this guy works for just let him off at your place? What if he’s some kind of criminal? You never know who these companies hire. He could be on a prison work release program.”

  Tessa swore Hunter was pounding the nails into the boards twice as fast as before while she warmed up by the fire and peeled off her gloves. “Did you find anything concerning Michael’s case that will help?”

  Rourke removed his gloves and shoved them in his coat pockets, and then pulled off his wet parka in front of the fireplace. “Yeah, but it doesn’t go any further than this room.”

  Her heart skipped to overdrive to hear Rourke’s news.

  He handed her his coat and rubbed his hands over the fire. Even in this weather, he was dressed in one of his impeccable gray suits. At least he was wearing sensible snow boots for the icy conditions. “Bethany was seeing some other guy.”

  Her heart nearly stopped. Maybe finally the break they needed. “I knew it. Who was he?”

  “You won’t tell anyone else, right?”

  Hunter opened the door and looked from Rourke to Tessa. “Coffee ready?”

  Jeez, Hunter, not now!

  “Who was Bethany seeing, Rourke?” She hoped he wouldn’t clam up with Hunter listening in.

  Rourke’s expression turned blank, and he shifted his attention to the fire. He shrugged. “The DA’s office proved no one was seeing her.”

  Tessa could have shaken him and screamed bloody murder.

  “Nice suit,” Hunter said to Rourke, and then gave Tessa a knowing look. “On second thought, I’ll check on your truck and see if I can move it.” He headed back outside.

  She hung up Rourke’s coat and her own, and then set the pot of water on the fire, anything to busy herself so she wouldn’t hurt Rourke. “Who was it?”

  “Who is that guy? He doesn’t act like a handyman.”

  “Rourke, who was seeing Bethany besides Michael?”

  “I said too much already. It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. You’ll never be able to prove Michael didn’t murder her.”

  “Who…was…seeing…her?”

  “The sheriff’s son. But it can’t leave this room, Tessa. I swear it.”

  Ohmigod, she knew it. Her bones dissolving, she collapsed on the couch.

  “Are you okay, Tessa? I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it to you.”

  “No, no, I’m all right.” As right as could be expected to know her brother’s best friend could be the murderer. Bastard. And how would they prove it when his father was the sheriff?

  “You promise you won’t confront Ashton about this, right?”

  “I’ll hire someone really discreet to investigate it further.”

  Rourke sat next to her on the couch and patted her hand. “We can have dinner together now, right?”

  Dinner? Sheesh, one track mind. But she promised. She pulled her hand away from him.

  “Sure, but there’s no electricity so it would have to be some other evening.”

  Like a couple of months from now. Her mind flipped through different scenarios, remembering all the times Ashton had been to the house, smiling and joking with Bethany and Michael. Why hadn’t Tessa noticed what was really going on between Ashton and Bethany? Maybe she had, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself.

  Rourke waved at the fireplace. “It sounds like the water’s ready for the coffee.”

  Still in disbelief about Ashton, she gathered her composure and rose from the couch. But then again, Ashton could have murdered Hunter last night. And he had been hunting with a rifle since he was too young to do so. Not that Bethany was killed that way, but it could prove Ashton was capable of committing murder, couldn’t it?

  “So who’s this guy really who was fixing your window?” Rourke asked.

  Hunter stalked back inside, catching Rourke’s question. “Tessa’s lover,” he said, with a smirk and the look of the devil sparkling in his eyes, his cheeks slightly red from the chill.

  She could have socked him. Rourke’s jaw couldn’t have dropped any lower.

  “Handyman, cook, personal masseur, whatever she needs me to be. So who else was Bethany seeing?”

  Rourke turned slightly green.

  “Who?” Hunter asked again, his voice threatening as he helped Tessa with the coffee mugs.

  Rourke swallowed hard. “Ashton Wellington.”

  “Good. I drove your truck into the driveway. But why don’t you stay with Tessa for an hour or so while I take a walk in the woods.”

  To investigate? Please, God, don’t let Ashton be wandering in the woods armed again.

  Rourke frowned and she knew it was because he didn’t like Hunter ordering him about.

  “As a favor to Tessa. I’ll be searching for the stalker who’s been breaking into her house.”

  “Stalker?” Rourke looked at Tessa.

  “He stole my gun last night.”

  Rourke ran his hand through his wind-ruffled hair. “Sure, right.”


  Hunter quickly drank a cup of coffee, kissed Tessa on the cheek, and gave her a sexy smile. If Rourke hadn’t been here, she would have snagged Hunter’s arm and made him kiss her on the lips like he really meant it—like he had on the beach—only this time proving for real she hadn’t dreamed it. As if he read her innermost thoughts, he raised his brows slightly, dimples appearing in his cheeks as his smile broadened, and her cheeks blossomed with heat. Not just her face though as the heat soon spread all the way to her toes.

  He winked, the cad. “Be right back.” Then he gave Rourke a quelling look as though he’d better behave where Tessa was concerned, and stalked outside. She prayed he wouldn’t run into Ashton again.

  Rourke looked from Hunter to Tessa and frowned. “Who the hell did you say he was?”

  “Loser beta male,” Hunter grumbled under his breath as he headed deeper into the woods, the branches dipping under the weight of the icicles clinging to the pine needles.

  At least he didn’t have to worry about Tessa’s interest in the man. He could tell she could barely stomach the guy as a lover.

  So maybe Hunter had it all wrong. If the intruder—the gray—was only after Tessa, maybe the sheriff’s son did the killing. That would solve everything. All Hunter had to do was prove it. But at least once he did, Ashton would go to prison for the murder, Michael could go free, end of Tessa’s problem. As for the gray—that’s who he was hunting now.

  He wondered too about the sepia picture of Seth and the woman and baby. Maybe it wasn’t Seth. A werewolf couldn’t have children with a human, and Tessa definitely wasn’t a lupus garou. Or maybe the picture wasn’t of her family like she thought. But why she would have it then—

  Gunshots rang out across the woods. Crazy hunters. Hunters. Hunter. He paused, trying to recall the rest of his name. Nothing. Damn it. His borrowed snow boots crunched on the frozen ground as the coastal pines shielded him some from the sleet. If he had been in his wolf coat, no one would hear his approach. But for now, he wanted them to see him coming so they didn’t shoot him by accident.

  He narrowed the distance between him and the two shooters. The shorter, bearded one lowered his gun. “Hell, man, wearing a green field jacket makes you blend right in with the woods. You’re supposed to be wearing orange so we don’t shoot you.”

  “I’m not a hunter.” At least not the kind that used bullets, and normally he preferred blending in with his surroundings no matter the form he took. He guessed it was natural, instinctive.

  “Well, hell, if you don’t watch out, you’ll be one of the hunted.”

  “Why don’t you move farther north?” The way Hunter proposed the question, there would be no doubt he’d issued an order.

  “Why don’t you mind your own business?” the taller of the two men said, sizing Hunter up.

  Don’t go there. Cool macho hunters. Tough guys. But neither was a match for him. Which made him wonder if a gang of thugs had gotten the better of him. Had to have—or else he wouldn’t have taken a dip in the Pacific.

  “Private property,” Hunter said.

  “Yeah, owned mostly by the timber companies,” the bearded of the two men said.

  “This land is privately owned. And you don’t have permission.”

  The two men cast each other looks.

  “We’ll get permission and be back.” The bearded man spit on the ground. “If you’re still wandering through the woods, blending in like you do now…” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be our fault.”

  “Happen to be a good friend of the local sheriff’s.” Hunter gave him a steely-eyed glower—the same kind he would use during a wolf-to-wolf confrontation when he needed to make another back down, tuck tail, and leave. If that didn’t work, he added, “Don’t think you want to go there.”

  The two men seemed a little ruffled at the revelation, or maybe it was the look he gave them that changed their minds as the one stamped ice off his boot, and the other fidgeted with his rifle. They finally cursed under their breaths, but headed north.

  “Find a place a good five miles—at least—from here to hunt,” Hunter added.

  They both glared at him and continued walking.

  Hunter searched for clues to where the gray wolf had been, the trails he had taken, any evidence he had gotten into a vehicle that left tire tracks behind. Although as a wolf, the lupus garou could travel a great distance, his thick coat protecting him from the cold. Hunter located several paths the gray had walked, found where the agitated hunter had paced, snagged strands of gray fur on a couple of branches, rubbed his scent on several trees.

  Was he a rogue or did he live with a pack? The fact he had a key to Tessa’s place didn’t fit. Was he someone she knew? Another one of Michael’s friends? Or one of hers?

  Not locating the intruder, Hunter assumed he was sleeping off his nighttime activities, and he would be back again tonight. What if Hunter moved Tessa somewhere else? Somewhere safe? But where? If he had a place, he could relocate her there. He didn’t have a clue where it could be though.

  “Hunter?” Tessa hollered from deep in the woods.

  Hell. Didn’t he tell her to stay with Rourke at the house? He hurried toward her voice.

  “Hunter?”

  “Coming!” Then he heard them. Two sets of footfalls. They had better be Rourke’s and Tessa’s.

  When he saw them, the adrenaline rush began to drain off.

  Rourke looked annoyed and out of breath.

  Her frown fading, Tessa seemed guardedly relieved, her hair blowing in the breeze, her skin glowing with the cold, her full red lips pouting, begging to be kissed. “I was so worried about you. We heard the gunfire and I told Rourke how Ashton had shot you. We thought maybe he’d killed you this time.”

  “Take more than that to get rid of me. We couldn’t have that now, could we? Not until I can at least locate Bethany’s real murderer and put him behind bars.” Hunter managed a smile as he wrapped his arm around Tessa and walked her back home.

  She felt warm and soft and his thoughts shifted to dangerous notions of getting naked in bed with her. He attributed some of his feelings to wanting to claim her in front of her old high-school boyfriend. Some of his problem was just being attracted to the minx—more than he thought he’d ever been toward any woman, either human or lupus garou. He kept telling himself it was just because she’d rescued him from the beach, and it was nothing more than appreciating the tender care she’d given him. On the other hand, he might have often felt this way toward women. Hell, maybe he was a real Casanova.

  “He’s the guy you’re hiring to look into this?” Rourke asked, his voice incredulous.

  “Yeah. He’s an ex–Navy SEAL.” She looked up at Hunter with adoring eyes.

  He thought she was playing her role a little too obviously.

  “A Navy SEAL?” Rourke looked sick again.

  “Yep.” She patted Hunter’s arm. “Can’t you tell by the great shape he’s in?”

  “Why is he an ex–Navy SEAL?”

  “He got tired of being away from home, the secret missions, unable to settle down and start a family, right, Hunter?”

  Rourke watched them like an investigative reporter looking for another juicy story.

  Hunter sighed deep inside. He didn’t like making up tales that were too far from the truth, but then again, what if his cover of being an ex–Navy SEAL put the fear of God in the sheriff and his bad seed? It didn’t hurt for Rourke to think so either. Hunter imagined the word would soon get out about his “former occupation” since Rourke was a reporter. Hmm, then he would probably investigate him. One good thing about being an undercover operative—Rourke couldn’t learn anything.

  “Hunter…” Rourke waited for a last name.

  Hunter knew only that he was a gray lupus garou. Wolf? Grey?

  Grey. That rang a bell. Not quite right, but it would do.

  “Grey. And we haven’t been properly introduced.”

  Tessa’s eyes widened as she stared at Hunter and s
he missed a step. He tightened his hold on her. Wishing he had better news, he gave her a subtle shake of his head, warning her he didn’t know for sure.

  “Rourke Thornburg,” the reporter offered and stuck his hand out.

  Hunter gave his hand a firm shake, firm enough to let him know the power behind the man.

  Rourke’s eyes watered and he quickly pulled his hand away. Message received.

  Tessa pursed her lips. “Did you see the man who was shooting in the woods?”

  “There were two of them. I told them to find game somewhere else, farther north.”

  “They must have loved you,” Rourke said, chuckling.

  “They didn’t argue and moved along.”

  “Thanks,” Tessa said. “But I don’t expect you to chase off all the idiot hunters in the area and risk them shooting you accidentally.”

  “They’re too close to your—” As soon as they came into view of the house, Hunter saw the back door standing wide open. He felt Tessa crumple slightly against him. Tightening his hold on her, he knew she wouldn’t have left the house unlocked. The intruder was once again warning them he could come and go as he pleased. Maybe not such a beta after all.

  Rourke’s chill-bitten cheeks instantly lost their red color. “I saw you lock the door.”

  “Someone’s got a key.” Tessa’s voice shook.

  Hunter gave her a reassuring squeeze, but until he could eliminate the threat, nothing he did would alleviate her concern and for good reason. The stalker was a real danger.

  Rourke rubbed his gloved hands. “Who?”

  “We don’t know. Ashton maybe. But whoever it was got in last night when I went to get firewood from the beach,” she said.

  “Ashton?” Rourke asked.

  “No,” Hunter said, not wanting Tessa to fear the wrong man. “Someone else. Wait here with Tessa. I’ll check out the place first.”

  Tessa looked like she had a million questions to ask Hunter, but with Rourke here, the inquisition would have to wait. Hunter stalked inside, monitoring Rourke and Tessa’s conversation as he checked the rooms.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Rourke asked Tessa on the porch, sheltered from the sleet and wind.