He muffled a shout against her neck and, at last, slowed his motions, rocking with her now.

  She reached back with one hand and thrust her fingers into his hair, holding onto him as he slowed then finally stopped.

  They hung there together, panting, their skin slick with sweat.

  He kissed her cheek and began to withdraw.

  “Uh-uhn,” she said, squeezing hard around him, wanting him to stay inside her, because when they were connected like this, she felt… She couldn’t get her mind around the words. Like they were one being? One heart?

  Corny as that sounded, she wasn’t ready for this…affair…to end.

  He brought them down to the bed, a hand against her lower abdomen, maintaining their link. Gently, he rolled them to their sides, spooned together.

  His arms encircled her; one hand cupped a breast, the other her mound.

  She sighed.

  “Maybe it’s too soon,” he said, his voice rumbling in her ear, “but you’ll need a place to stay. Mine’s a work in progress, but not completely torn apart. You’re welcome there. With me.”

  It was too soon, but that didn’t stop her sleepily nodding. “I’d like that.”

  * * *

  Early in the morning, they showered together. With her legs wound around his waist, he took her against the cool tiles. Afterward, they dressed in the clothes she’d washed the day before.

  Meg peered into the foggy mirror and wrinkled her nose. “I’m going to have to use some makeup to hide that whisker burn.”

  Rubbing a hand over his freshly shaved face, Wolf thought she’d never looked more beautiful with her red cheeks and swollen mouth. Marked by him. No one looking at her today would doubt how they’d spent the night, which filled him with a deep masculine satisfaction.

  “As much as I’m enjoying our time together, I don’t know how many more days we can stay cooped up like this,” she said, her worried gaze meeting his in the mirror.

  “Fetch and Monica are coming today. I’m sure they’ve got something in the works.”

  She tilted her head. “You know, when you put their names together like that, it makes me wonder… Do you think she’s single?”

  Wolf shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Fetch ever mention what happened to his wife? I remember they had to ship him back in the middle of his last tour. Medical emergency.”

  “I know he’s a widower, but that’s all I know.”

  “It’s so damn sad.”

  Wolf stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her. His gaze locked with hers in the mirror. “Getting sentimental, Henry?”

  She smiled into the mirror. “Now, that’s not something anyone’s ever accused me of being.”

  He laughed and turned her, and then bent to kiss her. When he raised his face, he swatted her bottom. “Breakfast. I’m starving.”

  “We’ve both had quite the workout,” she said, her eyes teasing. “You go ahead of me. I have to fix this face.”

  He gave her another quick smacking kiss then left her. Downstairs, he found Reaper at the stove, stirring a huge pan of scrambled eggs, while heating tortillas on a skillet.

  “That all for you?” Wolf asked, as he eyed a rough-looking Reaper, whose long blond hair was rumpled.

  Reaper grunted. “I have some for your girlfriend.”

  Wolf grinned at his grumpy tone. “Didn’t you get any shut-eye last night?”

  “Nope. There’s deer in the woods. Kept tripping sensors the RIP guys set up, so we were out walking our AO most of the night. Got maybe a solid two hours.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Get much sleep yourself?” Reaper said with a sly sideways look.

  “I’m good,” Wolf said and patted his stomach. “Can I help with something?”

  “You can flip some more damn tortillas. And quit looking so damn happy.”

  Wolf chuckled and took over heating large, flour tortillas one at a time. When they’d finished, the two men set out small bowls of chopped onions, jalapeños, and bottled salsa.

  Coffee was already brewed.

  Wolf filled several tortillas and set them on a plate. “I’ll wrap some in foil for Mace.”

  “Don’t bother. Soon as I eat, I’ll go relieve him.”

  Just then, Meg entered the room. She’d braided her hair and “fixed” her face—all whisker burn appropriately masked. Wolf gave her a smile.

  “Wow. Looks good, guys. I love breakfast tacos.” She busied herself spooning ingredients onto tortillas.

  When she sprinkled a healthy helping of the hot peppers, Reaper cleared his throat. “Might want to go easy on those. They’re pretty damn hot.”

  Wolf glared at Reaper who hadn’t bothered with a similar warning when he’d been rolling up his tacos.

  Reaper shrugged and bit into one. A huge bite that consumed nearly a third of his large taco.

  Wolf grimaced and took a much smaller bite. Instantly, heat burned his tongue, but he did his best to hide his reaction, blinking his eyes rapidly to clear the tears.

  Beside him, the big guy’s shoulders shook.

  Across from him, Meg smiled beatifically and took a large bite. “This a deal breaker, Wolf?” she asked, before taking another healthy bite.

  He gave her a baleful glance, unrolled his taco, and flicked away peppers with the tines of his fork. He hoped like hell there were Tums in a cupboard somewhere.

  “What do you mean by ‘deal breaker’, or is that couple’s code?” Reaper asked after swallowing.

  Meg raised an eyebrow at Wolf.

  He gave her a nod and rolled his eyes.

  She leaned forward. “For some reason, Wolf thinks we have to have everything in common for us to work.”

  “Dumbass,” Reaper muttered under his breath. He turned in his chair. “Man, you gotta embrace your differences. Carly wants to watch a romantic comedy, I suffer through it, because I like to watch her laugh and after, she gets pretty frisky.”

  Meg pressed her lips together, likely to keep from laughing. It was damn funny seeing how “whipped” the rough-around-the edges guy was.

  “Carly’s a writer, and she likes words. Lots of damn words. What takes me a second to describe in an after-action report takes her pages. The woman can find more ways to describe a takedown than I ever knew existed. Still, she puts up with the fact I’m usually what she calls ‘monosyllabic’—had to look that one up.”

  Meg gave up and began laughing.

  Reaper gave her a glare. “Yeah, that was pretty much how she reacted, too, when I gave her a blank-faced stare.” His gaze swung back to Wolf. “Point is, our differences are what keeps us on our toes. Life would be pretty boring if I didn’t have to run to the dictionary every time we argued.”

  Wolf began chuckling, imagining in his mind’s eye what life must be like inside the Stenberg house.

  Reaper pushed up from the table. “I better get Mace his tacos before they go stone-cold.”

  After he left, Wolf and Meg cleaned up the kitchen then wandered into the living room.

  “Just in case you were wondering, I don’t really think we have to love everything the same or want to do all the same things,” Wolf mumbled.

  “You mean you’d watch that singing circus movie with me?”

  Wolf grabbed her by the waist and brought her close. “I can bear it.”

  “So brave,” she said, then blinked. “Want to know something?” she said softly.

  “Everything,” he said, lowering his voice and head.

  With her mouth an inch from his, she said, “I’m usually a very serious person, but when I’m with you…”

  He felt a smile tug at his mouth. “It’s because we’re happy, Meg. Guess that’s what scares me.”

  She arched an eyebrow, and her green eyes sparkled. “Huh. I have a hard time believing anything scares you, Wolf Patterson. So far, you’ve taken all this craziness pretty much in stride.”

  She was wrong. When he’d seen the Tahoe turn onto her driveway, and then heard those first gunshots in the distance, he’d found himself shaking, desperate to get to her in time. Even now, with protective measures in place, he worried about how all of this would end. He had to keep her safe. But if she took strength from his appearing stoic, he wouldn’t disabuse her of the notion.

  With her looking up at him, her mouth raised for a kiss, a sense of certainty fell over him. Although they’d only known each other a few days, he was “all in.” Committed to this woman.

  Was it love? Well, he’d never felt this way before. All he knew for certain was he would never, willingly, let her go.

  Chapter 8

  Fetch, accompanied by Monica and a tall, grim-faced man, arrived mid-morning.

  Meg eyed the man, taking his measure. His brown hair was shaggy, his beard scruffy, but nothing else about his appearance hinted at neglect. He was too well-built, with huge arms, a broad chest, and trim, hard-looking middle. A SEAL, she guessed from his thousand-yard stare.

  Beside her, Wolf was reaching out to shake the man’s hand.

  Agent-operator, whatever he was, Petrak was dressed in what looked like SWAT gear. All black. When he extended his arm, she spotted the tattoo of a skeletal frog holding a long trident in its mouth. So, definitely SEAL.

  Then his attention settled on her. She held out her hand only to have it engulfed inside his, although he barely pressed her hand. Did he worry he’d break it?

  They sat at the kitchen table, coffee cups beside them as they talked about what they’d learned since the last time they’d spoken.

  “Jedediah and Caleb have gone to ground,” Monica said. “Neither has shown up at work.”

  “They could be anywhere. They could be here,” Wolf said.

  “Not likely,” Petrak said. “We’ve been monitoring the area and haven’t seen any sign of them or anyone else.”

  “So, why were we chasing deer all night?” Reaper asked, his tone filled with disgust. “Are you even sure it was deer?”

  Petrak remained silent, but his jaw tightened.

  “We also have someone watching Martin Bledsoe,” Monica said.

  “The FBI guy?” Wolf asked.

  Monica nodded. “We don’t hack the FBI, so we’re dependent on ‘friends’ to feed us information about where he is, what his schedule looks like, who he’s meeting… He hasn’t budged from his office or home in the last day.”

  “And Barton?” Fetch asked.

  “Also unaccounted for.”

  At Meg’s sigh, Wolf reached beneath the table to give her hand a squeeze.

  “There has to be something we can do to draw them out,” Meg said. “I want this over.”

  Monica and Fetch traded glances.

  Then Fetch’s gaze went to Wolf and Meg. “We’ve been working on a plan.”

  “What do you need me to do?” Meg asked, her expression neutral.

  Wolf gave her a frown then noted that neither Monica nor Fetch had raised an objection. “Hell, no!”

  “We’d have you covered every second,” Fetch said, his expression darkening.

  “Our best people,” Monica said with a nod at Petrak.

  “I’m in,” Meg said, then gave Wolf a steady stare.

  Wolf drew a deep breath to calm his sudden fury. By the stubborn tilt of her chin, Meg would do this with or without his being onboard. And he was going to be a part of this, sticking like glue to her backside every step of the way. He ground together his jaws, his stare never leaving her face.

  “I want this over,” she said, her expression set.

  “All right, I’m in, too,” he said, then turned to face the group.

  * * *

  The plan was simple. Sheriff Hatchett had already put it into motion, calling Martin Bledsoe to find out whether his people had any objections to Meg returning to duty. When Bledsoe said he had no objections, the sheriff let him know that he’d be calling Meg into the office that afternoon.

  Wolf shook his head after hearing that they’d simply assumed Meg would be okay acting as bait.

  “You can accompany her,” Monica said. “We’ll have two cars tailing you there and back, trading out so no one watching will know they’re a protection detail.” She reached to the floor then placed a bag on the table. “Inside are Kevlar vests for both of you and sweatshirts to hide the outline. You have your weapons, and we’ll have you both miked just in case.”

  “So, Hatchett’s read in?” Wolf asked.

  Fetch nodded. “I trust him. He’s the only one in the department we’re sharing anything with and, from the start, he said the less he knows the better.”

  “You’ll spend half an hour in his office then head back,” Monica said. “In the meantime, we’re hardening this site because this is where we’ll spring the trap.”

  Meg made a face. “Sure you want to risk this place, Fetch? You saw what they did to mine.”

  “I’m insured,” he said, his expression resigned.

  “And he already has a lot of built-in security,” Monica added.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Fetch cleared his throat. “Cameras at the front door, in here,” he said, pointing to one placed high in the corner of the room, “in the hallway…”

  “The bedrooms?” Wolf said, narrowing his eyes.

  He winked. “No. I would have warned you.”

  Reaper grinned. “Had you worried, didn’t he?”

  “Don’t suppose we can get rid of him, huh?” Wolf said, jerking a thumb at Reaper.

  Fetch’s smile stretched wide. “You’re stuck with the bastard for the duration.”

  With the schedule set, Fetch and the RIP folks left. Wolf gathered the bag with their vests and shirts. He pulled out the larger-sized items then handed the bag to Meg. “You go up and change. We only have an hour before we leave.”

  After she left, Wolf turned to Reaper. “I don’t like this one bit.”

  Reaper gave a solemn nod. “I don’t either, but I don’t have any better ideas for how to flush them out into the open.”

  “Do you know these RIP guys?”

  Reaper shook his head. “Fetch does. And I trust him when he says they’re the best at what they do. They don’t hire anyone who’s not completely solid and badass.”

  Wolf donned his vest over his T-shirt, adjusting Velcro straps for a better fit, then pulled on the gray sweatshirt over the vest.

  When he was finished, Wolf glanced at the ground then slowly lifted his gaze. “You and Carly, when did you know she was the one?”

  Reaper’s grin was pure and joyful. “The first time she put me in my place. Fetch assigned her to me for a ride-along with a bounty hunter. Research for a new book. I wasn’t pleased, and she knew it. I couldn’t intimidate her into quitting. And she’s the one who seduced me.”

  Wolf’s eyebrows shot up. “And now, she’s your partner.”

  “Carly might look all soft, but she’s kickass.” He pointed his chin toward the stairs. “Carly and Meg are a lot alike. They don’t hesitate to walk into danger. Makes it hell for us, sometimes.”

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Reaper patted his shoulder. “See you back here, later, man.”

  Wolf certainly hoped so.

  * * *

  Tension gripped Meg during the long drive back to the station house in Kalispell. From the way Wolf’s fingers gripped the steering wheel, he was feeling it, too. “So, tell me again why I’m not driving.”

  Wolf gave her a quick frown then concentrated on the road ahead, while glancing constantly into the rearview mirror. The older, nondescript sedan that followed them remained far enough back anyone who watched wouldn’t know they were keeping pace with the 4Runner they drove. “I need something to do, Meg.”

  She bit back a bitchy, And I don’t? He didn’t deserve it. Instead, she blew out an exasperated breath. “I almost wish they’d come at us right now.”

  “I don’t. I want you safe inside the cabin when they hit.”

  “And what about you? Will you be there with me?”

  Wolf sighed. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Much as I might want to go toe to toe with them, I’m not leaving you alone.”

  “Monica thinks they’ll likely hit us in the middle of the night.”

  “Everything they’ve done so far has been pretty predictable if you think about it. Like they’ve watched too many gangster movies.”

  “But no flair.”

  “Godfather one or two?”

  “Two.”

  He shook his head. “It’s like you were made for me.”

  She laughed, just as he’d planned, no doubt. Then she turned her attention back to the road because they’d just passed the Kalispell city limit sign. Soon after, Wolf signaled as he turned into the Flathead County Justice Center parking lot. “Okay, boys,” Wolf said for the benefit of the team listening, “we’re pulling into the stationhouse.”

  “They won’t try anything here,” she said, just to say something to break the tension.

  “And our tail just peeled off,” he said, pretending to adjust the mirror as the vehicle drove away. His gaze locked with hers. “They’re out of range, and we’re on our own. You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be…”

  When he held out his fist, she bumped hers against it.

  Sheriff Hatchett was in the bullpen, leaning his butt against a desk, his arms crossed over his chest as he spoke to one of the deputies. His gaze flickered over them, and he gave them a nod and pushed away from the desk, leading them silently toward his office in the far corner of the room.

  He flipped down the blinds then waved a hand toward the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat. We have thirty minutes before you head back out.” He looked at Meg. “How you holding up?”

  “I’d be doing better if I could head to my house. Comb through it to see if there’s anything left. And I need to talk to my insurance guy. Sure haven’t had time to think about stuff like that.”

  He let loose a deep sign and sat back in his leather desk chair. “I hate this shit. Not being able to trust the men working for me. Not being able to trust the fucking FBI.”

  Her eyes widened. She’d never heard him cuss before.

 

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