Undercover Wolf

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“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 descriptions. 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.

But he remained resolved never to push Kristine to have sex with him, no matter how badly he ached to touch her all over, to bury himself in her. His feral instincts hadn’t taken over completely. He wouldn’t let them, no matter which form he was in.

And no matter that Kristine had seen him naked, both before and after his shifts so far with the Alpha Force elixir.

For the sake of learning what was going on with his brother and sister-in-law, he’d follow the rules, at least all he could. He’d act like a good little soldier despite being on an unofficial mission. He’d follow Kristine’s lead wherever it made sense, since she was more experienced.

At the moment, she was thumbing through a Bar Harbor magazine, though her speed suggested she wasn’t paying much attention to the articles and ads. He turned back toward her. “Is that worth looking at?”

“We won’t find what we’re looking for in it,” she said with a sigh, her chin raised in its normal challenge to the world. He resisted an urge to touch it.

“But we might get some ideas of where else to look,” he reminded her. “Like … well, other than Acadia Park itself, are there any wildlife sanctuaries? You know I’m particularly interested in seeing local animals.”

And trying to learn if there were any kinds that could have attacked those tourists. Especially if those victims had brought it on themselves by purposely getting too close to dangerous wildlife.

“There is a private conservation easement on some property bordering Acadia.” Kristine turned a few pages and pointed to a description of a local sanctuary. “I’m not sure if anyone can visit, but it’s seeking donations.”

“Not necessarily helpful, but—”

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” interrupted a gruff male voice over the bus’s loudspeaker. “We’re finally ready to get on our way.”

Quinn turned back toward the tour guide. He appeared to be in his fifties, with a scruffy salt-and-pepper beard and a green Acadia cap preventing anyone from seeing whether the rest of his hair matched. He wore a gray long-sleeved shirt and coordinated pants that looked vaguely like a uniform, and he wedged a small microphone near his narrow lips.

“I’m Wendell, your guide today.” He gave a spiel reciting rules and suggestions, then told the bus driver he was ready and they took off.

The narration was loud and would have been really interesting had Quinn actually been a tourist. In fact, he did look through the windshield toward the sights the guide pointed out—churches and parks and museums, including one specializing in local Native American culture and another focusing on natural history. Some architectural features on buildings were also worth noting. Because this was an island, the coastline appeared now and then; the Atlantic Ocean was brilliant blue beneath a clear sky, and calm that day.

Finally, they headed toward Acadia National Park. Despite his previous evening visits, that remained the place of most interest to Quinn. Plus, the tour leader got quiet while the driver headed in that direction.

Quinn felt a light squeeze on his arm. He looked over and saw Kristine’s eyes wide, her full lips pursed slightly, as if she sent him a silent message: it was time.

He smiled, covered her hand with his—a feigned newlywed gesture—and nodded. He didn’t release her hand, though. He liked the feel of it as he gripped it.

His body, unsurprisingly, also reacted as if she was doing more than touching his arm.

Squelching a sigh, he turned back toward the guide.

But Kristine acted first, squeezing his arm harder as if to communicate something—like, let me—then called to the man across the aisle.

“Wendell, my new husband and I have planned to come here for our honeymoon for ages—but now we’re a bit worried. We heard about those poor tourists’ deaths in Acadia National Park. They were mauled, weren’t they? Do the authorities know what kind of animal did it?”

The man looked stricken, hazel eyes huge beneath his scruffy gray brows. He pulled the microphone away from his mouth, clearly not wanting the crowd on the filled bus to hear. His voice was hardly audible over the bus’s growling engine. “No, ma’am, ‘fraid they don’t have any answers yet—at least none they’re talking about, though they’re looking. I assure you that we’ll keep all of you close on this tour. No one’ll be hurt.”

“Thank you so much, Wendell.” Kristine sounded relieved and even a bit flirtatious.

Maybe she was the better one to take the lead on this. What man wouldn’t try to soothe the concerns of a woman as pretty as her—especially when she turned on her vast charm? She hadn’t done that with him, though. Probably a good thing.

“But,” she continued, “I read that it could be wolves. Are there wolves in Acadia? I researched the park on the internet and thought that there weren’t any wolves around here now.”

“That’s right.” Wendell nodded. “Used to be in the past, I’ve heard, but not at present. Could be coyotes or even wild dogs, I suppose, though I’ve never heard of any attacking people before. I’m sure the authorities will figure it out soon. Meantime, we’ll just be extra careful. Ah, here we are.”

The bus pulled in through a gate, and Wendell talked to the park rangers standing in the booth.

In a short while, the bus was moving again. The park was an amazing conglomeration of mountains overlooking the ocean, as well as numerous lakes. The vistas were wide. The forests were vast—and could hide any number of wild animals such as those Quinn had sensed last night.

But most wild animals stayed far from humans, even those that presented possible danger. If they attacked, there had to be a reason like hunger, or fear.

Considering how lush this area appeared, it probably hid a lot of possible prey, so hunger was unlikely.

Fear? Maybe. Those tourists could have come across some creature in the wild and baited it in some way—even just out of wildlife-loving curiosity—until it attacked.

But the most likely scenario, in Quinn’s opinion, was that someone—who? and how?—knew of Simon and Grace, their belonging to Alpha Force, and what Alpha Force was. The attack did, after all, occur on the night of a full moon.

The clues so far were few. But to save Simon and Grace—and maybe even Alpha Force—Kristine and he would nevertheless locate those newlyweds. Fast. They had to.

And they would also uncover who was trying to frame them, and how … and why.

Chapter 6

The bus bumped and climbed slowly along a narrow uphill road. Kristine watched from her sideways angle as the Asian-American driver concentrated on what he was doing. His hands were clasped tightly on the wheel and he frowned while staring straight ahead.

Glancing out the window beside her, Kristine looked out onto a cliff composed of magnificent rock formations that plunged down to the water below.

And smiled as she took in the gorgeous sight.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Yeah.”

At his uncharacteristically soft tone, Kristine glanced toward Quinn. He was looking at her.

She swallowed in confusion. Well, gee. They were supposed to be acting like honeymooners. He was just doing a good job.

Even so, she quickly turned away from both Quinn and the window.

Wendell now leaned back in his seat, apparently assuming he’d answered everything Kristine intended to ask. Not so.

Why wasn’t Quinn jumping in with questions, too? He was the former investigator, not her. So far, Kristine had kept things general and vague. She hadn’t figured out a graceful way to segue into what they really needed to know: Had Grace and Simon been on this tour? That could be hard to ask since the guide hadn’t sought the names of his current passengers, nor even where they were from. He probably didn’t get to know any tourists well enough to identify them by name.

But there was one thing he could do: now that they were in the park, he could surely point out where the mauled tourists’ bodies had been found.