by Terry Spear
Finn managed a humorless smile. “By deleting the message, you ensured we went to our original landing coordinates, thereby saving our lives.”
Her mouth dropped open, but she quickly narrowed her eyes and slugged him in the arm. “Damn you, Finn. I thought… I thought…” She wiped away several tears, trying her damnedest to get her emotions under control.
He wiped away a couple more tears with a gentle sweep of his fingers against her cheeks and then pulled her into his arms. “I had to know you didn’t somehow get into Hunter’s coded messages and get rid of one on purpose. In this case, it most likely saved our lives, but the situation could have been a lot different if the message had been some other.”
She struggled to get out of his grip, but he held on tight, kissing her hair and sending tingles of need up her spine. No matter how much she hated that he thought she could have done something so underhanded, she wanted Finn’s caresses, his whispered breath against her ear, the feel of his fingers rubbing her back through the soft robe.
“I… didn’t… do… it.” She tilted her head up to glower at him, her eyes still misting with detestable tears.
He took a deep breath. “When I asked you on the beach if you recalled anything you had done that might have saved us on that mission—”
“I said no.”
“But you seemed to think of something.”
She frowned, not at Finn this time, but in concentration as she tried to recall that nagging memory lingering in the recesses of her mind.
“Paul can hypnotize some people.”
“Mindless sheep,” Meara retorted.
“He might be able to pull the memory from your subconscious.”
“No.”
Finn let out his breath and kissed her forehead. “All right, we’ll think of another way.”
“I didn’t ever get into Hunter’s computer or phone email,” she said, still not letting go of this issue. “That I recall.”
“Someone had to have.”
“I don’t have Hunter’s password for his emails, and I’m not a hacker. How does Bjornolf know about the message if it had been deleted? And yes, sometimes, I’d use Hunter’s phone, but I don’t recall any message on it that I might have mistakenly erased. Besides, how did Bjornolf know that I had deleted it?”
Finn stiffened and said, “An email was sent, confirming receipt.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“The message was still in the sent file. The original message emailed to Hunter had been deleted, but the sent message from Hunter showed the contents of the original note.”
“How did Bjornolf know all this?”
“While you were taking a bath, I called him back and talked with him privately to find out more details. After the team had been hit, Bjornolf was trying to learn what had gone wrong. On a hunch, he hacked into all the team’s emails to see if he could learn anything.”
“All right, but how does that make me the suspect?”
“He said it had your signature all over it.”
She snorted. “So what did I say that made him feel that was the case?”
“It didn’t look like the kind of message Hunter would have sent.”
“Why not?”
“He would have gotten in touch with the sender another way to ensure that it wasn’t a hacker’s hoax. And you’ve always been extremely vocal about not wanting Hunter to go on missions.”
“And of course Bjornolf questioned Hunter about it first and my brother agreed I had to have done it.”
Finn didn’t say anything for a moment as his gaze studied hers.
She narrowed her eyes at him. How in the hell had Bjornolf come up with this notion if he hadn’t already talked to Hunter? “Well?”
“Bjornolf wanted you to—”
“To confess to something I didn’t do?” she said, her voice rising with barely controlled rage. “We’ll clear this matter with Hunter right now.”
Finn hesitated to move off the bed. Fine. She couldn’t move the mountain, but she could get around him. She scooted to the other side of the bed and got up, then headed for the bathroom to dress.
“Hunter’s not going to be happy about this,” Finn warned, still sitting where she’d left him.
“I’m not happy about this.”
Dressed in jeans and a tank top, Meara stalked out of the bathroom and headed for the door. With a slow, reluctant manner, Finn stood, crossed the floor, and followed her out of the room.
When she reached the living room, she found the place empty—no sign of Hunter in the kitchen, on the back deck, or out front.
“Great,” she said under her breath, wanting to get this matter cleared up immediately. That’s how she did things—jumped right in and tackled an issue. She didn’t believe in letting a situation simmer, hoping it would go away. She thought to call Hunter on her cell phone but belatedly remembered that hers had met a watery grave.
“Cell phone?” she asked, palm outstretched to Finn.
He fished his out of his pocket and handed it to her.
She punched in Hunter’s number, and when he answered, she asked, “Did you get a message changing the coordinates on the beach where you were to meet during that last mission?”
Hunter didn’t say anything for a moment, probably trying to figure out how she knew about it and why she was asking him.
“Bjornolf said he hacked into the team’s emails and located a sent message concerning the email,” she added, trying to get Hunter to respond.
“Hell, why did he tell you that?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, giving Finn a sardonic look. “He told Finn who told me. And now I’m supposed to apologize for both deleting the message and sending a response. Except for one problem with that scenario.”
Finn was so rigid that he looked like he was made from marble as he waited to see her reaction.
“I deleted the message and sent a response to the sender,” Hunter said gloomily. “But there wasn’t any reason you should ever have learned of the situation.”
Shocked at the news, Meara stared at Finn’s shirt but didn’t say anything. Then finally she frowned and said, “Say that again, Hunter.”
“I received the message and instantly realized it wasn’t from anyone who should have been changing our coordinates. So that the bastard who sent it would think I believed it and would take my team to the new location, I sent him a confirmation email. Then I deleted the original notice in case anyone happened to see it and went to the other location. We would have been massacred had we done so.”
Still not believing her ears, she said, “You did it?”
“Yeah, Meara, so don’t think anything more about it. It had nothing to do with you.”
It might not have, but now she was feeling ill at ease again. Someone had deliberately tried to have her brother, Finn, and the other SEAL team members killed. “But you never learned who did it?”
“No. I sent the information to another operative to look into it, but then we were hit on the beach. I figured whoever set us up realized too late that we weren’t going to meet at the new coordinates and missed his chance to destroy us. Even so, they hit the location where we were, not quite as successfully as they’d imagined, though. We never did learn who sent the message. Why are you calling me on Finn’s phone?”
“I drowned mine. Maybe you could tell Finn what had happened so he’ll stop thinking the worst of me,” she said with an edge to her voice. She gave Finn one more heated glower, then hit him in the chest with his phone.
He grabbed for it before she released it. His brows rose as he watched her while listening intently to whatever Hunter told him. She had to get a breath of fresh air to calm her anger so she turned around in a huff, walked out onto the back deck, an
d closed the door.
It didn’t take long before Finn opened the back door, shut it, and walked across the deck, every footfall growing closer. She breathed in the fresh sea breeze and tried to settle her frustration, not knowing what to expect from Finn and attempting to ignore the way he was closing in on her. But she couldn’t. She realized just how much it meant for him to believe in her.
“I’m sorry,” Finn said, which surprised the hell out of her. Hardly any of the men she knew ever admitted to being wrong, nor would they ever apologize for it. Hunter was top of the list. Her father and uncle had been also.
Finn’s hands covered her shoulders in a gentle grasp. If he had stood next to her, speaking softly like he did now, that wouldn’t have had half the effect that his caressing her shoulders did. Or the way his body pressed against her back. Or the way his warm breath fanned the straggles of hair dangling next to her cheek, his mouth nuzzling her neck with an insistent need to make amends.
“I told you,” she said grumpily. “I hadn’t done anything.”
He shifted his hands to her tank top, then slid them under her shirt and caressed her breasts. “Let’s go back inside,” he said, his cheek sliding along hers like that of a wolf who was trying to get her attention, his hands stopping their sexy assault.
“And?”
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” His voice was already low and husky and rampant with need.
“Hunter’s around here somewhere,” she warned, not exactly telling Finn she didn’t want to go with him. She couldn’t, damn it, when she wanted this as much as he did.
“Yeah, well, that’s why I want to take you back inside.”
She shook her head. “Next time I tell you something…”
“I’ll listen.”
“Yeah.” She believed that as much as that she wouldn’t have the urge to shift to her wolf form ever again.
She didn’t move from her spot on the deck, trying to make up her mind whether she should prolong this torture or give up her annoyance and return to bed with him. But her reluctance to agree didn’t stop him.
She gasped in surprise as he swept her up in his arms and then strode back into the house with purpose in his long stride. “Hunter might not be here right now, but he’ll be back. It’s time that you and I have a real heart-to-heart talk.”
Chapter 16
Bjornolf was surprised as hell when Hunter called sounding as if he was ready to roast him alive for upsetting his sister.
“Why in the hell did you call Finn and accuse Meara of deleting my messages?” Hunter growled.
Bjornolf never—at least that he would admit to—made mistakes. And he still was damned sure Meara has been involved in the message fiasco, despite what Hunter said. But then again, maybe he was wrong.
“My mistake,” Bjornolf said, without meaning it and unable to let go of what he thought was the truth.
“Next time you have an opinion about something that concerns her or me, bring it to my attention.” Hunter hung up.
Not expecting the confrontation to end so quickly, Bjornolf was reminded of a squall abruptly appearing on the ocean during one of their SEAL missions and then disappearing just as suddenly. Bjornolf didn’t care much about most people’s opinions, but Hunter and the rest of his team had long ago earned the deep-cover operative’s respect because of all their successful missions. And although Bjornolf didn’t like admitting that he’d done anything wrong, he felt unsettled.
Then again, that might have had something to do with watching Finn standing on the deck with Meara as he slipped his hands up her shirt and began to caress her breasts, speaking low in her ear, his body pressed provocatively against her backside, and undoubtedly trying to win her favor.
Observing them through the screen of pine trees, Bjornolf frowned. Meara was softening under Finn’s touch, but when he said something more to her, she balked. Bjornolf smiled cynically. She wouldn’t be won over easily. Finn wasn’t as charming a talker as he thought he was. Meara definitely wasn’t buying his attempts to smooth things over with her.
Finn suddenly grabbed her up in his arms without her permission and headed for the house like some damned medieval warrior bent on taking the woman for his own whether she approved or not.
Bjornolf scowled. They were just the moves he would have made if he’d had the chance and a soft touch wasn’t working.
Hell, it was a mating for sure.
***
For the first time since he’d been turned, Rourke was truly enjoying himself. Not that he had a news story to report, but he was really getting into investigating what he could concerning Hunter’s final SEAL mission. One thing he thought odd: quiet, unassuming Chris Tarleton had seemed unduly on edge when Rourke talked to Meara about the Knight of Swords. It wasn’t like the information was top secret or anything. And she had a right to know what was going on. Then he realized what it was all about. Chris didn’t want Meara looking into the matter because she was known for lunging into situations that could get her into real trouble. Hell, now he wished he hadn’t told her about it.
Rourke did another search on the Internet, breaking into areas that were classified but that he had a knack for getting into. Purely for research. If he’d wanted to be one of the bad guys, he probably could have made a lot of money at it. But he was cursed with wanting to do what was right—even down to stopping at a yellow light because it might turn red when he was in the middle of the intersection.
Thankfully, Hunter had enough faith in Rourke to allow him to remain unsupervised in his own apartment. And if Rourke could, he’d break this case for Hunter and stop whoever it was from trying to harm any of the rest of the SEALs or Meara. He wanted in the worst way to be an important pack member, someone others could rely on.
He chewed on his bottom lip and scrolled down the page some more. And then he figured he was going about this all wrong.
He called Dave, the other sub-leader, and when he answered the phone, Rourke said, “Chris gave me some of the information about the hit on Allan and the Knight of Swords card left behind. What do you know about any of it?”
Dave gave a grunt. “That’s Chris’s business. He’s the one who’s been looking into it. I’ve been busy with all the other pack troubles that come up. Don’t know a thing about any Knight of Swords card. Why would you need to know, Rourke? You’re not working on a new story, are you?”
“No. But this is what I do. Investigative reporting. Except the only reporting I intend to do is finding out who is behind this and giving Hunter the news so he can deal with it.”
Dave didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he let out his breath with a heavy sigh. “Really can’t help you with that. With petty wolf squabbles and one teen runaway, I have my hands full. Talk to Chris. If he believes he can trust that you’re not going to put this in the paper, he’ll fill you in. Good luck.”
“Thanks, Dave. I want to help solve this if I can.”
“You’re all right in my book, Rourke, and don’t let anyone tell you any differently.” Then the phone clicked dead.
Rourke was so surprised Dave would say so that he just sat staring at his computer monitor, absorbing the praise for a moment. Then he smiled—and then he frowned.
He wouldn’t get anywhere questioning Chris. If Chris wanted him to know something, he’d tell him. Otherwise, he’d say nothing to Rourke. If Chris had been taking notes about the investigation concerning the hit on Allan, where would they most likely be? His desk at home? Bedroom?
Chris didn’t have a human job. Running the pack with Dave kept him busy. Now he had to oversee renting Hunter and Meara’s cabins. That was where he was right now, dealing with two disgruntled renters.
Hunter would give Rourke hell if he knew the reporter had left the apartment without Chris’s okay, and even worse if he learned that Rourke
had searched Chris’s house for evidence about the crimes against Hunter’s team without permission. But Chris wasn’t an investigative reporter. He might be sitting on the evidence that could prove who the mastermind of the whole operation was and never know what he was holding onto.
Rourke turned off his computer and grabbed his keys. If he could prove who was behind this, he had to do so. Lives were at stake. And this was a job he could do.
***
Meara couldn’t believe what she thought Finn had in mind as he carried her to the master bedroom. “But we’ve been staying in the guest bedroom. Shouldn’t we use the same room? Someone else should use this room.”
“No. You belong in here with me.” He smiled down at her as he put her on the bed.
“You said you wanted a heart-to-heart talk.” She was fairly sure that if they didn’t begin a conversation soon, it would quickly dissolve into something else.
“The chemistry between us is remarkable.”
“The chemistry.” If this was just about the sex…
“I’m not a romantic kind of guy.”
She smiled, not thinking that was true in the least. There was romance in castles with brawny Highlanders, and then there was romancing a SEAL. They were two entirely different scenarios, and she was over the moon with the SEAL.
“You’ve said so already. Although I’d have to graciously disagree with your claim.”
“I can’t compete with the heroes in your romance novels,” he said.
“Hmm, you’re right.”
