A SEAL in Wolf’s Clothing (18 page)

She didn’t have to look back to see Finn following her. Having shape-shifted again, he quickly joined her, running close beside her as if he were her mate.

He had to know she wasn’t planning to tear off for parts unknown. But then again, maybe he was just trying to ensure she was protected in case another wolf showed up with deadly intent.

When they finally reached where they’d ditched their clothes, Finn offered to help Meara dress. At first, she was reluctant, but then feeling bad again about running off, she acquiesced. When she was dressed, she waited for him to dress, and then he took her by the hand as if they were on their first date and walked her across the sand to the stairs leading to the beach house’s deck.

“Are you all right, Meara?” Finn asked tenderly.

She nodded, and then he took her inside, making her wait in the kitchen where she took a seat on one of the bar stools. He hurried through the house, checking it, she surmised, for anyone who might have slipped in when they were all out running as wolves.

When he came back and stood before her, she looked up at his tender gaze and said, “I’m so sorry. I—”

“Don’t be, Meara.” He kissed the top of her head and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Why should you be sorry? Hell, Paul and I were fighting with each other like a couple of damned teens instead of watching the area for any sign of an assassin.”

“But—”

“You drew him out, distracting him, just so I could get the advantage.”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t be serious. Hunter would have been furious with me.”

Finn touched her cheek with a gentle caress. “I’m not your brother.” He pulled her from the bar stool and, with his hand wrapped around hers, guided her to the master bedroom.

“What…?”

“A soak will do you a world of good for the sore muscles.” He smiled at her, and when he took her into the master bathroom with its whirlpool tub built for two, he stretched his arms above his head a little.

In that instant, she wondered if he planned on joining her in the bath. But what if Paul and Bjornolf learned about it? The word would definitely get back to Hunter, and she was certain he wouldn’t like it.

Finn locked the door to the master bathroom and started the bathwater for Meara, but she still wasn’t certain what he intended to do.

“Is Anna jealous of you with me?” Meara asked, still bothered by the notion because she’d felt like she was beginning to bond with Anna like she had with her brother’s mate, Tessa. She didn’t often develop relationships with other women. Partly, she figured, because she’d never had a sister. “Is that why she sent Paul after you?”

“She’s afraid of what Hunter will do to me if he learns what I’ve been doing with his sister.” Finn barely concealed a smirk.

“I’m a grown woman,” Meara said caustically, hating how much her brother tried to take charge of her life.

Finn helped her out of her tank top and pressed his mouth against her bare shoulder. “As well I know.”

“You don’t think I really have a thing for Allan, do you?” she asked, hoping Finn didn’t think so as he helped her step out of her khakis.

She groaned with the effort as her sore legs and the bruise on her hip reminded her how it felt to be at the bottom of the heap when two alpha male wolves fought.

Finn’s expression turned concerned as he gave her a hand into the tub. “No, I’m not worried about you and Allan. He’s only the one for you for the moment because he’s not here. I’ll be right back.” Finn gave her a knowing wink, then headed out of the bathroom and closed the door.

She turned on the jets in the tub and noticed a container of lavender bubble bath that must have been left behind by the people who’d had to leave in a hurry so Finn could move her in. She’d never had a bubble bath because they seemed too prissy and pampering. Eyeing it, she finally gave in, seized the bottle, and poured some of the bubble bath into the heated water. Nothing much happened, so she kept pouring until the bubbles began to surface.

“How is she?” Meara heard Paul ask Finn from the living room a couple of minutes later.

“Bruised and sore, but she’ll be fine.”

“Is she mad at us?”

She couldn’t believe that Paul would be worried how she felt about them and not angry with her for causing all the trouble by taking a run on the wolf side. She realized then that they didn’t consider her as a civilian but part of the extended family, so to speak. That made her appreciate Hunter’s team members all the more.

The water from the jets was stirring up the lavender bubbles something fierce, and the cloud of bubbles was growing and growing and growing. She stared at the massive, building foam and hoped it would stop any second now.

“I’m going to look around the area and make sure the guy didn’t have a buddy or two with him,” Meara could hear Bjornolf saying. “And take care of the body.”

“Good idea,” Finn agreed.

The back door closed with a clunk as Bjornolf headed out.

“No, she’s not mad at us,” Finn assured Paul. “Is Anna all right?”

“Yeah, she’s making a sweep of the area in her car.” Paul let out a harried sigh. “Hell, man, you know we all were interested in Meara. But none of us would approach her because of how much we respect Hunter.”

“I’m protecting her,” Finn said, as if defending his honor.

Paul snorted. “Yeah, well, if I hadn’t been in southern Florida,
I
would have been protecting that sweet body of hers, not you.”

Now Meara knew why Paul had been wearing the palm-tree shirt. She quickly turned off the jets, but the foot-high bubbles were stretching over the tub walls and boiling onto the tile floor. She groaned.

“Watch the place, will you?” Finn said, sounding more like he was giving an order than asking a question.

“What are you going to do?”

“Take Meara some Epsom salt. The brute strained her muscles and bruised her, making her pretty sore.”

“Oh.”

Epsom salt. Would it mix well with the bubble bath? She really didn’t want Finn to see the mountains of lavender she’d created. Footfalls headed down the hall toward the bathroom, and Meara sank under the foam still bubbling to the surface of the warm water, hating that he would see the mess she’d made.

“Finn?” Paul said.

Finn stopped in the hallway halfway to the bedroom. “Yeah?”

“You know Hunter’s going to be pissed with all the attention you’ve been paying her, don’t you?”

Finn harrumphed and headed back down the hall toward the master bedroom.

Meara assumed her brother wouldn’t like how cozy she and Finn had become when there was no way a mating would follow. But then again, Finn was keeping her safe, and Hunter would have to appreciate that. Nothing else would happen between Finn and her. Once they discovered whoever was ordering the hits on them, he’d go back to his secret missions, and she’d work on bringing alpha males to the cabin rentals again. End of story.

Missing the feel of the jets, she turned them on again, closed her eyes, leaned back against the numbing pulses of water aimed at strategic parts of her back, and purred.

“I love it when you do that,” Finn said, closing the bathroom door behind him, a slight smile on his lips as he stared at the huge mound of bubbles half hiding her.

Her eyes shot open. “You love it when I do what?” she asked innocently. She had no idea what he meant.

“Purr.” He mixed some Epsom salt into the water. Testing the warmth, he dipped his hand lower until he found her thigh and then ran his fingers not so innocently over her skin, and nodded. “Just the right temperature. But you could probably use some more bubbles.”

“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—”

“Watch
dogs
?” 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.