Wolfe took the heavy crystal and inhaled deeply. Ah. The good stuff. “Is Pippa asleep?”
“Yep. It’s three in the morning. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Why aren’t you?” Wolfe returned. Neither one of them slept much, so why dick around about it?
Mal silently contemplated the flames for several moments. “You seemed more jazzed than usual. What’s up?” When Wolfe didn’t answer, he grinned. “Ah. Pretty girl in your bed and you’re here with me. No wonder.”
Wolfe let him think what he wanted. No way was he telling Mal about Gary Rockcliff. “I need a favor.”
“Okay.”
It was that easy, and that was the reason Wolfe had to keep this new team safe. “Can you reach out to any of your old contacts on the force who might have a line on the heroin drug trade out of Afghanistan? My guess would be southern route.” It was the only way Gary could’ve gotten the stolen drugs transported across the world.
Mal stared at the fire. “Off the books?”
“Yeah. For now.” Wolfe lowered his chin. “Keep it under the radar. No ties.”
Malcolm nodded. “I can do that. How much heroin and when?”
“A shit ton and it would’ve been transported between two and six months ago.” They sat in silence for a while, but tension still emanated from Mal. “What’s on your mind?” Wolfe asked.
Malcolm twirled his drink in his hand. “You think it’s odd that Force wants to hire a journalist to assist you with busywork?”
Wolfe rubbed his chin, scratching his palms. When had he last shaved? “Not really. Dana has worked with us before and is great at research, and with Brigid gone for the week, we need the help.” Brigid, their computer expert, could hack any system. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” Mal took another sip. “I think we’re all chess pieces and Force is moving us around. The guy almost seems like a matchmaker sometimes, you know? Deep down, the grumpy drunk is a romantic.”
Huh. “He didn’t want you with Pippa in the beginning. Well, until we figured out she was a good guy and not a bad one.” Wolfe took a deep drink, letting the expensive Scotch heat his stomach. He didn’t have the words to express himself, but these times drinking with Mal, just the two of them late at night, or rather early in the morning, made him feel human again. Like he was part of something and not a damaged leftover. He tried to communicate as best he could. “Dana and I are just friends.”
“I know, but you’ll be working with your friend a lot, and now she’s sleeping in your house.” Mal grinned, settling his muscled bulk farther into the chair. “Temptation.”
Not something Wolfe could give in to at this point. “She’s a nice girl, and she takes too many chances. If anything happens to me, promise you’ll look out for her.”
“I promise. What’s going to happen to you? Level with me.”
Now that was temptation. Wolfe had already lost too many friends in this fight, and he wasn’t putting this one in danger. “When I need help, I’ll ask.” Yeah, he was using Dana’s words. Hopefully they wouldn’t piss off Malcolm like they had Wolfe when she’d said them.
Mal reached over and poured them each more whiskey. “Doing any job without backup is a mistake. Keep that in mind.”
Letting his team get killed—again—would be a bigger mistake. “What else?” Wolfe asked. Mal only poured a second glass when something was on his mind.
“Angus Force. He’s getting more and more obsessed with his search for Lassiter.” Mal swirled his liquor in the tumbler, watching the liquid catch the firelight.
“Are you worried he won’t find him?” Wolfe took another drink and grinned.
Mal jerked in a laugh. “No. I’m worried he will. So far, there hasn’t been any real evidence that Lassiter is alive. If we get even one lead, I’m not sure what Force will do.”
Wolfe sighed as the whiskey hit his belly. Force had shot and killed a serial killer named Lassiter about five years ago, but now he believed the man wasn’t really dead. They had no concrete proof, though, and it was driving Force nuts. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” Wolfe said, finishing his drink and handing over the glass. For now, he had a woman to protect in his house. First things first—he needed to find out if those shooters were after her . . . or him.
Either way, they were going to bleed.
Chapter Five
She was back in the Senator’s office, strapped to the chair, and he’d cut her arms and the tops of her thighs with a sharp knife. He laughed, enjoying the moment. She kicked out and screamed.
Dana sat up in Wolfe’s bed, gasping for air, holding the covers to her chest, knocking the framed picture by the bed to the floor and scattering research notes, which she’d been trying to decipher before falling asleep.
Wolfe burst in the door, gun in hand, pointing it at the window. He looked around, dodged into the bathroom, scouted the closet, and then set the gun on the dresser. “Bad dream?”
She gulped and nodded.
The kitten hissed from the top of a tall bureau, where he’d obviously jumped.
She wiped a tear from her face. “Kat. I’m sorry. It’s okay.” She spoke soothingly, trying to reassure the frightened animal.
Wolfe stayed away from the bed.
She focused on him and then wished she hadn’t. His broad chest was bare, showing hard-cut muscle along with a couple of bullet holes and what looked like knife wounds. A military tattoo of some type covered his left bicep, and that massive chest narrowed down several roped abs to loose sweats. His hair had grown out a little, curling over his ears, and thick scruff covered his rugged jaw. But those eyes. Light brown and brilliant and masculine, they missed nothing.
The kitten gave a soft meow.
Wolfe went to him, lifting him up and setting him on his right shoulder. “It’s okay, dude. Everyone has bad dreams.”
The huge man and the small kitten were such an obvious contradiction that she could only stare as Kat rubbed against Wolfe’s chin and started purring.
“The kitten and the wolf,” she murmured, forcing her hands to stop clutching the bedcovers.
“Sounds like a nursery rhyme.” All fierce grace, Wolfe moved to sit on the bed, reaching down and replacing the photograph on the bed table. “What was the dream about?”
She took a deep breath. Wolfe had rescued her when an ex-senator had kidnapped and tried to torture her, so there wasn’t much to hide from him. “I was back in the Senator’s office,” she whispered.
“Thought so.” Wolfe covered her hand with his broad one. “That monster is dead and gone. He can’t get to you ever again.”
“I know.” The senator had been killed in prison by another prisoner in a fight over a tomato, oddly enough. That made no difference to the nightmares. Wolfe’s hand was warm and firm, and nothing in her wanted to move her fingers out from under his. Friends held hands, right? It was okay to take some comfort from him, since he was offering it. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“I don’t sleep much,” he said, smelling like whiskey and male.
Her mouth watered.
Kat jumped from his shoulder and landed in Dana’s lap, stretching his back and clawing the comforter. He kept purring. At least the animal had forgiven her. She looked for somewhere to focus other than on the sexy male sitting too close but not close enough. Her gaze landed on the picture of him in his early teens, his arm slung around a girl with the same brown eyes, both standing in front of an elderly woman with a soft smile. “Is this your family?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled. “My sister, Karen, and our grandmother, who raised us. Well, mostly.”
“You have a sister?” Blinking, she turned to look at him again. Wolfe had a sister?
“I had one,” he said softly. “She was killed at fifteen, when I was thirteen. Joined the wrong chat room and ended up chatting with the wrong guy. She thought he was seventeen and met him at a mall one night, without us knowing, of course. We found her body a week later. He’s in jail, serving a
life sentence.”
God, how painful. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Me, too. Grams died four years later, after talking me into joining the military. Thought I could use structure and a purpose. She was usually right.”
The night closed in, the silence cocooning them. Memories of her own childhood, of happiness untouched by tragedy, filled her heart. Why had Wolfe lost so much, and what was driving him so hard now? It wasn’t fair. “Parents?”
He lifted one powerful shoulder. “Father took off a month after I was born, and saying our biological mother was unfit is an understatement. We were lucky Grams stepped in.”
“I’m sorry, Wolfe. I really am.” There weren’t any words that could help.
“I know. You’re a sweetheart, Dana. Soft and kind.”
There was an obvious warning behind the murmured words. She shook her head. “I’m pretty tough, and you know it. If life hits me, I’ll get back up.” He had to stop pushing her away.
His chin lifted, but he didn’t answer.
She looked at his scarred chest. “You’ve seen some serious fights.”
He released her hand and stood, withdrawing. “Yeah.” He moved for the door, revealing a broad, strong back—along with more healed wounds. The bullet holes were obvious, as were the knife marks, but a couple of burns down his right side were a surprise.
What had he endured? She swallowed, feeling small and vulnerable in the big bed that smelled enticingly of him. “Why won’t you trust me?” Why the heck had she asked that question?
He turned at the doorway, leaning against the jamb, one eyebrow rising. His lips twitched. “You’re in my house, in my bed, with my kitten on your lap. I gave you the code to my alarm system. Why in the world do you not feel trusted?”
How could he not understand? “You don’t tell me anything. You don’t share. I don’t know you.” The words burst out before her mind could kick into gear. “You always say we’re friends, and you are there any time I need you. You even saved me from a madman with a knife. But you don’t let me know you.”
Indecision crossed his face—an expression different from any she’d ever seen on him. Apparently making up his mind, he moved to his perch on the bed again, the heat from his body instantly washing over her. “There isn’t anything else.” His voice remained low and calm, deep with a certainty that seemed to lack regret. “You’re searching for a depth that just isn’t there. Doesn’t exist.”
She tilted her head, reading beneath the surface when he’d just told her not to bother. “Do you really believe that?” Her voice softened along with her heart. Oh, this wasn’t good. Not at all. Distance. She should draw back.
“Yes.” His chin lowered, and his gaze ran down her tank top and back up, his eyes darkening to the color of topaz gems hiding their brilliance. “My whole life has been about survival. First as a kid in a rough neighborhood and then in the military, where I thought I’d found family.” His nostrils flared as he exhaled slowly. “When my whole team died, all that was left for me was to seek justice. Maybe revenge. I don’t really care which.”
She barely moved, not wanting to spook him. He’d never told her this much before. “Revenge? That’s why you were looking for Clarke Wellson? I mean, Albert Nelson?”
He nodded. “It took me nearly six months to tie Nelson to my case. All I had was his picture and his affiliation with Captive; I didn’t even have his correct name. Never even got a chance to question the guy.”
Nelson had been a pretty shady guy, so he’d probably had plenty of enemies. Dana remained still. “How did your team die?”
His head lifted, and his gaze shuttered. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
“Wolfe, I—”
He startled her into silence by cupping her jaw, his touch warm and firm. Then he leaned in, all intent.
Her breath caught, and excitement winged through her abdomen.
He came an inch closer. “I’m not gonna let anybody hurt you, and that’s all I have to give.”
Amusement infiltrated the desire she couldn’t seem to banish. “You’ll jump on a grenade for me?”
His lips tipped, and he released her. “Yeah. Gladly. I’ll help you get your story and keep you safe in the process. But then we’re done. The job I have to do . . . I can’t have any distractions.”
Distractions? Why did that tickle her ego? Wolfe always seemed so focused, that was probably a compliment. It hit her then. When she was in trouble, when she was in need, she called Wolfe. He came. But he was telling her that he had other things to do, and she was taking advantage of a truly good guy. It wasn’t right. “I’m going back to my apartment tomorrow,” she said quietly.
One of his dark eyebrows rose. “It’s not safe.”
Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. But she had to get out of this situation before she did something really stupid and kissed the guy. “I’m not yours to worry about.” Yeah, they were friends, but it was pretty much a one-way situation with him giving and her taking. That needed to end now. “I hate ultimatums,” she murmured, not meaning to give him one.
He blinked. “Me, too. I’ve had enough of those for tonight.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
He shook his. “Nothing.”
Ah. Once again shutting her out. She took a deep breath. “We’re either friends who share our problems or we’re not. Let me help you like you’ve helped me.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Dana, stop whatever you’re thinking right now. You can’t help me, and you sure as hell can’t save me. Trying is only going to get you hurt.”
His mouth was so close to hers, she could almost taste him. Whiskey and male and Wolfe. She blinked once and then again. Wait a minute. Fix him? He was warning her off? Again? “I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.” She edged away and let herself feel the sorrow of losing something she’d never had. “Believe me. When a man tells me to stay away, I’m not dumb enough to want to change him.” The ego on the guy. He was just too much.
“Good.” Quick and graceful, he stood and stalked to the doorway. “Oh. I have a call in to Captive to see if the annual party next Tuesday is still on or not. If it’s on, I’m going. You can come if you want, but you’ll have to act as a sub so I can keep you safe. Have a nice night, Dana.” He shut the door behind himself.
Her jaw dropped open, and she snuggled the kitten closer. “Can you believe that?” she muttered, her body uncomfortably tingly.
Kat snorted and bit her ear.
Males. Seriously. Males.
Chapter Six
The woman looked a mite grumpy in the morning as she walked out with the binder she’d had on the bed the night before. Wolfe fought to keep his face stoic and quickly poured Dana a cup of coffee, shaking the whipped cream bottle he’d bought earlier and spraying generously before nudging a fresh pan of cinnamon rolls across the table. “Pippa brought these over.” He’d already eaten three before running quickly to the store.
Dana took the coffee, inhaled deeply, and then drank. “Thanks.” She’d donned another pair of faded jeans with a green striped button-down shirt that somehow hugged her curves. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and with no makeup, she looked about sixteen. He really liked the freckles across her nose. Did she have them other places?
Damn it. He had to stop thinking of her as anything but a friend. When he’d almost kissed her the night before, he’d realized he had to get a grip. “What are your plans for this Sunday morning?”
She took a seat and eyed the cinnamon rolls. “Well, I’ll probably eat one of those, regret it, do some research, compare notes with you, and head home.”
So she was still on that track. “You need to stay here.”
“No, I don’t. I’d also like to work out, but I can do that later tonight.”
Yeah, she had nice muscle tone but was still curvy. Not that he’d noticed. “I turned the garage into a gym. Feel free.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Thanks.
Also, we need to compare notes and figure out why we have two different names for the same dead guy.” She looked up, her green eyes clear. “Care to explain why you think you’ll be invited to another Captive party after you scattered last night the second the body dropped to the floor?”
He lifted a shoulder. “That’s easy. Half of the people there made a run for it once the cops were on the way. It’s a BDSM club, and many of the members want that part of their life to remain private. There were some influential people there.”
Her frown wrinkled her forehead. “They think you’re influential?”
He grinned. “They think I’m a mercenary who founded my own business and became a millionaire. Some of it’s accurate.” Should he have another roll? If so, he’d need to jog a couple extra miles tonight. “But not the millionaire part.”
“Huh.” She sipped her coffee, her lips a pretty pink against the cup. “I’m surprised they’re having another party so soon.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I think they’re looking for leads on who murdered Albert Nelson. I checked with the local cops, through Angus Force, and there are no leads. The cops are frustrated at the lack of cooperation on the part of witnesses.”
She nodded. “Who do you think killed Albert Nelson?”
Wolfe had his suspicions but wasn’t ready to speculate. “That’s what we need to find out. Let’s eat and then we can share our case files and strategize for the next party.” He knew her well enough to assume that she was all in, even if it meant wearing a skimpy outfit.
She bit her lip. “If we’re really going undercover at a sex club party, we’ll need to get some rules in place.”
Man, she was cute when blushing and being bossy. Obviously she’d been giving it some thought since he’d dropped the challenge on her the previous night. He sat back, enjoying his second cup of java, although he’d only bought whipped cream and forgotten the sprinkles earlier. He’d have to go to the store again. He was out of dish soap, too. “All right. What rules?”
She picked at a piece of roll. “If there is a party next Tuesday, we both go as guests. No cuffs and no touching.”
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