Undercover Wolf Page 5

  Another admirable trait. The woman liked dogs. Real dogs. And apparently she also cared for shifters.

  He was going to have to watch himself around Staff Sgt. Kristine Norwood. He was coming to like her too much.

  And that could be a mistake.

  “So what’s your next idea?” Kristine finally asked, breaking the growing silence between them. Not that Quinn had found it uncomfortable—but he had been using it to think. And to plan.

  “The night’s still young,” he said. “Why waste it? I’m ready to prowl.”

  * * *

  He knew, of course, that Acadia was a national park with established entrances. At least this first time, before they had oriented themselves about locations, he didn’t want to be seen driving in so late in the evening. Not many tourists were likely to be around, even though the park was open—or at least the campgrounds were.

  As a result, he drove them both in the rental car along one road at the park’s outer perimeter, and then another, until he spotted a turnout surrounded by lots of vegetation, right beside a sheer cliff.

  Insurmountable for mere humans. Not for a shapeshifter.

  “Let’s do it,” he said.

  “Here?” Kristine looked both puzzled and skeptical. He enjoyed watching the expressions play across her unconventionally pretty face.

  “Here,” he confirmed. He parked at the end of the turnout closest to the thickest shrubbery. “It’s fairly isolated and I doubt we’ll see many cars at this hour.”

  “Okay.” She opened her door. He popped the trunk open and she extracted her ubiquitous backpack—once more filled with the equipment he needed.

  In only a few minutes, he had drunk a dose of the elixir and stripped—enjoying Kristine’s attempt to appear nonchalant and disinterested while sneaking peeks at his bare body. Which only made said body react the way he knew it would. But only for a minute—until the light she trained on him began its job.

  He felt the usual tugging and pulling...and then his shift continued.

  * * *

  This was as much bliss as a shapeshifter could experience. No full moon. Complete mental sharpness.

  If only his leap onto the mountainside five minutes ago, and his initial stalking into the park, could yield useful information.

  Unlikely, though. It was a distance from where he thought he’d heard the mauling of the tourists had occurred.

  He inhaled the complicated and intriguing scents of other wildlife—the coyotes and bobcats he had anticipated, as well as smaller, unimportant creatures.

  This was merely an initial foray, a more-than-pleasant test. He would accomplish more with future shifts around here, but at least he had gotten his first wild taste of Acadia.

  For now, he would simply revel in the freedom and ability to enjoy it. Not to mention his current, undoubtedly brief independence from the military, its structure, its orders.

  He had wondered long before enlisting if the elixir Simon had told him about would be enticing enough for him to give up his life, his freedom, his sanity.

  If all had gone well, perhaps it would have been more than enough to experience this amazing kind of shift as often as possible.

  But all was not going well, with his brother, and now with him—while he was, in some respects, AWOL from his official assignment.

  What would happen if he found Simon and Grace?

  What would happen if he didn’t?

  He had to find them, of course. Alive and well, and with a full, logical explanation of where they had been, and how they had not been involved in the park killings.

  And then he would not have to wonder whether he could continue to immerse himself in a life that required him to follow the orders of strangers, some of whom he despised.

  But a life that included this marvelous elixir.

  And an aide like Kristine. For now.

  Kristine, the dedicated and permanent soldier. Attractive, smart and sexy...but a nonshifter.

  A scent blew toward him—a coyote. Drawing closer. It must have smelled him, too.

  He paced farther into the forest. Not even a hint of the aromas of Simon or Grace, shifted or not.

  His frustrations mounted.

  No answers tonight.

  Chapter 5

  Kristine sat alone in the locked, dark car. Waiting.

  She hated waiting for anything.

  But she had taught herself patience while staying behind as her shapeshifting charge Grace dashed about the countryside in wolf form after Kristine helped her shift.

  She had worked a lot with Grace. Learned her habits. Helped her not only as a shifting soldier, but also in the solution of a problem that could have put the entire world at risk of unleashed biohazards.

  Kristine had gotten shot in the process. But she was fine now, physically.

  Mentally, too, she reminded herself—although she was damned worried about her charge, her friend, Grace.

  One step at a time. Quinn and she would find Grace and Simon. They had to.

  For now, she watched through the windshield and the car’s side windows, scouring the mountainside in the scant light of the bright stars overhead for any movement that would indicate the return of the wolf that was Quinn.

  Since this wasn’t a night of a full moon, and turning on any kind of light was a bad idea in this area, where she wanted no one to spot her, she merely slumped behind the steering wheel of the rental car.

  Too bad she didn’t have the senses that her charges did while shifted, or even some of their enhanced senses in human form. Grace had described them to her, at least somewhat.

  If Kristine had better hearing, maybe she could at least hear when—

  There. Right in front of her. A movement within her line of vision.

  Something had leaped off the hillside. In the little that she could see in the almost complete darkness, the shrubbery clinging to the side of the mountain remained in motion.

  A figure moved in front of her on the roadside turnout. A wolf?

  Just in case it wasn’t what she anticipated, she clutched the service weapon she had brought along, preparing to use it if necessary.

  As quietly as she could, she opened the car door.

  That created a haze of light—light in which she could see that something writhed in the bushes in front of her.

  A shifter regaining its human shape?

  The hell with being seen. Holding the gun in one hand, she grabbed a flashlight, too, turned it on and aimed them both at the moving figure.

  In time to see the last of Quinn’s transformation back into human form.

  * * *

  He was back in the car, back in his jeans and T-shirt. Exhausted partly from the shift and partly from his ongoing frustration.

  “Did you see anything useful?” Kristine asked, as she drove the car from the turnoff onto the twisting mountain road.

  “No. I didn’t see, smell or hear anything at all that could help us. But at least I’ve oriented myself a bit more to this area and shifting around here.”

  Beside him, Kristine said nothing for a minute. And then, “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Fine.” And he actually was. As he breathed deeply, he felt his strength—and his determination—increasing. He was here. Simon and Grace had to be somewhere around this area, too.

  Of course he would find them.

  They would find them. Kristine, with all her military training and dedication, would continue to be an asset.

  As she had already been, tonight.

  “Thanks for watching my back,” he said gruffly, only to see her turn her head to glance at him.

  “It’s what I’m here for,” she retorted in an equally gruff tone that made him smile.

  * * *

  The time Kristine had been dreading had arrived.

  Okay, it wasn’t that big a deal. They were here undercover. They were both adults, rational people, soldiers.

  At least she was a soldier, and he had
enlisted as one. But that shouldn’t matter here anyway.

  The point was that they were here under assumed identities. False ones.

  And now, after dinner, a preliminary assessment of the town, plus the first of Quinn’s shifts in this area—and she anticipated many more—they had to get some sleep to be rested enough to dive right into their roles tomorrow.

  Find answers.

  Learn where Grace and Simon were, and rescue them, if necessary.

  Assuming they were still alive.

  That was what was important.

  Who was sleeping where, in this small, quaint room with only one bed, was not a big deal. No bigger a deal than her acting as Quinn’s aide for shifting.

  He had just crossed the room and closed the drapes. The room didn’t get any darker, since the lights were on.

  “Would you like to use the bathroom first?” Kristine asked neutrally.

  “After you, sweetheart.” His tone was ironic. Not serious at all.

  A good thing.

  “Fine,” she said briskly. “Then, when you’re changing, I can take the duvet and make myself a bed on the floor. I think you’ll be okay with the sheets already on the bed, and—”

  “And you don’t think the maid would notice tomorrow?” His brows were raised, emphasizing that irony he had already projected.

  “We can remake the bed in the morning to look as if we used it like the honeymooners we’re pretending to be.”

  She looked him straight in the eye, challenging him to object. He certainly didn’t think they were going to have sex as part of their cover...did he?

  And why did the idea twist her insides with molten lava?

  She liked how they were getting along so far—on a friendly and professional basis. That was all. But she had convinced herself that any sexual attraction she felt for him was absurd. Unmilitary. Something she would laugh off. Ignore.

  Wouldn’t she?

  “No need for you or me to sleep on the floor.” His tone was sharp now, as if he was responding to an insult. “We can both act professionally. Share the bed without...sharing anything else. Okay?” Now he was the one challenging her.

  “Okay,” she responded as coldly as she could manage.

  But as their eyes met, the challenge felt clear. Hell, she could handle it. She could handle him.

  Almost as if she was daring him, she took a step closer. Or did he move first? Suddenly, she was in his arms. His lips were hot, tasting as human as any man’s she had sampled before. But not the same. Better. They were sexier. More searching. Magnetic and alluring.

  Challenging.

  His body against hers—it was as hard as she had imagined. Especially there, below. Where the thick, sexy organ she had viewed before was now touching her, taunting her. Sure, there were clothes between them, but she felt him now. Hard. Erotic. Causing her insides to react with a need she didn’t want.

  Didn’t want.

  She pulled away fast, before she could change her mind. “Very interesting,” she said, trying not to sound out of breath at all. “All the more reason I should sleep on the floor. But I won’t.” This time, it definitely was a challenge.

  “Fine.”

  A while later, when they both had settled onto the bed, backs toward one another, Kristine was even more aware of Quinn Parran’s large, warm—highly sexy—presence behind her.

  He’s a shapeshifter, she reminded herself yet again. She might like them, but sleeping with one? Plus, he was a new soldier. A renegade, not a dedicated member of the military the way she was. An investigator she needed to work with for Grace’s and Simon’s sake. That was all.

  But she lay there, eyes open, long into the night, listening to Quinn Parran’s deep breathing, and not moving at all.

  Otherwise, she just might touch him once more.

  * * *

  Most mornings, Kristine enjoyed her first cup of coffee but figured she could survive without it.

  Not now. There was a lot she had to accomplish today, and since she’d hardly gotten any sleep last night, a strong dose of caffeine was first on her morning agenda.

  She only wished it contained ingredients to rein in her libido.

  At the moment, she sat across from Quinn at a table in a coffee shop along Main Street, the primary tourist avenue in Bar Harbor, just a couple of blocks from their hotel. The only good result of her restless night—fully aware of his presence luring her—was that he, too, looked tired. There was a slight dullness behind his golden eyes, and he also held on to the coffee mug in front of him as if it were a lifeline.

  Had he remained aware of her, too—and had that also made him lose sleep? Perversely, she hoped so. If she had to suffer that way, then why shouldn’t he?

  Maybe, for the sake of the mission they’d taken on, they could prevent another morning like this by indulging in sex tonight....

  The thought disseminated electric tingles everywhere within her, even as she rejected it. It would only be a diversion. They had to find Grace and Simon—and ensure that they hadn’t been involved with the deaths in Acadia. That was paramount to anything else.

  No matter how tempting.

  She took another sip of coffee, glad that the server had left an entire pot. They were still waiting for their breakfasts to be served.

  “So what do you think?” Quinn asked, breaking the silence at their table, although the restaurant was crowded and they were surrounded by low conversations. Like her, he had on jeans today. With hers, she wore a pale green buttoned blouse that she hadn’t tucked in. She couldn’t help noticing how Quinn’s black T-shirt hugged the muscles of his chest and upper arms. At the moment, the table blocked her view of below—a good thing. “Are you up for a bus tour?”

  Anyone eavesdropping would think they were tourists attempting to decide what to do today. But they already knew.

  There was a rack containing tourist information near the front desk at their hotel. Prominently featured were brochures for one of the island’s tour-bus lines. That line was also the one recommended by the concierge on duty that morning. He’d said that all guests to whom they recommended that outfit came back pleased, so it was the tour company they suggested most often.

  When he continued to extol their services, Kristine wondered if the concierge received kickbacks. Fine. Quinn and she needed to learn all they could about the Bar Harbor area as fast as possible. And if they could learn it from the most likely company to have shown last week’s newlyweds around, all the better for collecting information.

  “A bus tour sounds great, honey.” Kristine beamed as the server brought her breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast.

  “Good thing, since I already made reservations for the one recommended at the hotel. We leave in forty-five minutes.” Why did the way he quirked one edge of his mouth look so sexy? She knew that what he said was intended to be yet another kind of challenge. She had made it clear that she wanted to be involved in all decisions despite the fact he outranked her in the military.

  But what they were doing here was independent of Alpha Force—at least somewhat.

  So, Kristine didn’t bite at his goading. She didn’t even start to chew him out.

  She suddenly realized that even after working as an aide to a shifter for as long as she had, her thought processes hadn’t completely adapted. Thinking about biting and chewing in the presence of a werewolf... She smiled at the idea.

  Quinn raised his dark brows slightly, then smiled back. He had ordered an egg dish, too—a combo that included a small steak.

  “We’d better finish our breakfasts as soon as we can,” Kristine said. “I’d like to stop in at the local tourist center to see what other information we can pick up.” Shorthand for saying they’d also ask about any recent visitors who’d admitted to being honeymooners.

  But as it turned out, they learned half an hour later, no one at the town’s main tourist information center remembered seeing anyone like Grace and Simon—even though Quinn gave detailed de
scriptions. His skill wasn’t surprising, Kristine thought, with Quinn’s private investigator background. He might have tracked other people before—in both of his forms. Knowing how to ask the right questions in the right way had to be part of his former career.

  They hurried to the parking lot for the bus tour Quinn had scheduled. Quinn grabbed her hand to help quicken her pace. Kristine continued to play along with their honeymooner cover while much too aware again of the innocent contact.

  As they sprinted along the narrow Bar Harbor sidewalks, past stores and tourists, Kristine kept reminding herself that the man whose sleek, muscular form raced by her side was someone she could only pretend to want to touch all over.

  Doing it while they spent at least another few nights together remained off-limits.

  * * *

  Quinn muscled them into the bus before any of the other tourists. Now they sat on the right side, across from the tour guide, who was positioned behind the driver.

  Quinn had the aisle seat, and Kristine sat by the window. Stragglers still entered the bus, which was already warm and crowded even with most windows open.

  That prevented Quinn from getting too friendly with the guide. The questions that formed much of the reason for this tour had to wait.

  The vehicle was configured like a school bus. Maybe it actually had transported students in its youth, since the seats weren’t particularly wide.

  Which meant Quinn’s hips were snug against Kristine’s, reminding him of his uncomfortable night of knowing she was in the room with him. Hearing her breathe—and not the deep respiration of sleep most of the time.

  Kissing her. Feeling her against him, however briefly, as he’d taunted her. And then sensing her warm, sexy presence right beside him in that bed that might as well have been a mile wide, considering how far they stayed from each other.

  Yeah, they might be undercover, but they weren’t under covers—not together. He had to keep reminding himself that they weren’t really even coworkers. He was her temporary superior officer, and she was his aide.

  Another good reason for him not to have joined the military: all the protocol and rules about fraternization and other similar nonsense.