“So who’s this guy really who was fixing your window?” Rourke asked.
Hunter stalked back inside, catching Rourke’s question. “Tessa’s lover,” he said, with a smirk and the look of the devil sparkling in his eyes, his cheeks slightly red from the chill.
She could have socked him. Rourke’s jaw couldn’t have dropped any lower.
“Handyman, cook, personal masseur, whatever she needs me to be. So who else was Bethany seeing?”
Rourke turned slightly green.
“Who?” Hunter asked again, his voice threatening as he helped Tessa with the coffee mugs.
Rourke swallowed hard. “Ashton Wellington.”
“Good. I drove your truck into the driveway. But why don’t you stay with Tessa for an hour or so while I take a walk in the woods.”
To investigate? Please, God, don’t let Ashton be wandering in the woods armed again.
Rourke frowned and she knew it was because he didn’t like Hunter ordering him about.
“As a favor to Tessa. I’ll be searching for the stalker who’s been breaking into her house.”
“Stalker?” Rourke looked at Tessa.
“He stole my gun last night.”
Rourke ran his hand through his wind-ruffled hair. “Sure, right.”
Hunter quickly drank a cup of coffee, kissed Tessa on the cheek, and gave her a sexy smile. If Rourke hadn’t been here, she would have snagged Hunter’s arm and made him kiss her on the lips like he really meant it—like he had on the beach—only this time proving for real she hadn’t dreamed it. As if he read her innermost thoughts, he raised his brows slightly, dimples appearing in his cheeks as his smile broadened, and her cheeks blossomed with heat. Not just her face though as the heat soon spread all the way to her toes.
He winked, the cad. “Be right back.” Then he gave Rourke a quelling look as though he’d better behave where Tessa was concerned, and stalked outside. She prayed he wouldn’t run into Ashton again.
Rourke looked from Hunter to Tessa and frowned. “Who the hell did you say he was?”
“Loser beta male,” Hunter grumbled under his breath as he headed deeper into the woods, the branches dipping under the weight of the icicles clinging to the pine needles.
At least he didn’t have to worry about Tessa’s interest in the man. He could tell she could barely stomach the guy as a lover.
So maybe Hunter had it all wrong. If the intruder—the gray—was only after Tessa, maybe the sheriff’s son did the killing. That would solve everything. All Hunter had to do was prove it. But at least once he did, Ashton would go to prison for the murder, Michael could go free, end of Tessa’s problem. As for the gray—that’s who he was hunting now.
He wondered too about the sepia picture of Seth and the woman and baby. Maybe it wasn’t Seth. A werewolf couldn’t have children with a human, and Tessa definitely wasn’t a lupus garou. Or maybe the picture wasn’t of her family like she thought. But why she would have it then—
Gunshots rang out across the woods. Crazy hunters. Hunters. Hunter. He paused, trying to recall the rest of his name. Nothing. Damn it. His borrowed snow boots crunched on the frozen ground as the coastal pines shielded him some from the sleet. If he had been in his wolf coat, no one would hear his approach. But for now, he wanted them to see him coming so they didn’t shoot him by accident.
He narrowed the distance between him and the two shooters. The shorter, bearded one lowered his gun. “Hell, man, wearing a green field jacket makes you blend right in with the woods. You’re supposed to be wearing orange so we don’t shoot you.”
“I’m not a hunter.” At least not the kind that used bullets, and normally he preferred blending in with his surroundings no matter the form he took. He guessed it was natural, instinctive.
“Well, hell, if you don’t watch out, you’ll be one of the hunted.”
“Why don’t you move farther north?” The way Hunter proposed the question, there would be no doubt he’d issued an order.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” the taller of the two men said, sizing Hunter up.
Don’t go there. Cool macho hunters. Tough guys. But neither was a match for him. Which made him wonder if a gang of thugs had gotten the better of him. Had to have—or else he wouldn’t have taken a dip in the Pacific.
“Private property,” Hunter said.
“Yeah, owned mostly by the timber companies,” the bearded of the two men said.
“This land is privately owned. And you don’t have permission.”
The two men cast each other looks.
“We’ll get permission and be back.” The bearded man spit on the ground. “If you’re still wandering through the woods, blending in like you do now…” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be our fault.”
“Happen to be a good friend of the local sheriff’s.” Hunter gave him a steely-eyed glower—the same kind he would use during a wolf-to-wolf confrontation when he needed to make another back down, tuck tail, and leave. If that didn’t work, he added, “Don’t think you want to go there.”
The two men seemed a little ruffled at the revelation, or maybe it was the look he gave them that changed their minds as the one stamped ice off his boot, and the other fidgeted with his rifle. They finally cursed under their breaths, but headed north.
“Find a place a good five miles—at least—from here to hunt,” Hunter added.
They both glared at him and continued walking.
Hunter searched for clues to where the gray wolf had been, the trails he had taken, any evidence he had gotten into a vehicle that left tire tracks behind. Although as a wolf, the lupus garou could travel a great distance, his thick coat protecting him from the cold. Hunter located several paths the gray had walked, found where the agitated hunter had paced, snagged strands of gray fur on a couple of branches, rubbed his scent on several trees.
Was he a rogue or did he live with a pack? The fact he had a key to Tessa’s place didn’t fit. Was he someone she knew? Another one of Michael’s friends? Or one of hers?
Not locating the intruder, Hunter assumed he was sleeping off his nighttime activities, and he would be back again tonight. What if Hunter moved Tessa somewhere else? Somewhere safe? But where? If he had a place, he could relocate her there. He didn’t have a clue where it could be though.
“Hunter?” Tessa hollered from deep in the woods.
Hell. Didn’t he tell her to stay with Rourke at the house? He hurried toward her voice.
“Hunter?”
“Coming!” Then he heard them. Two sets of footfalls. They had better be Rourke’s and Tessa’s.
When he saw them, the adrenaline rush began to drain off.
Rourke looked annoyed and out of breath.
Her frown fading, Tessa seemed guardedly relieved, her hair blowing in the breeze, her skin glowing with the cold, her full red lips pouting, begging to be kissed. “I was so worried about you. We heard the gunfire and I told Rourke how Ashton had shot you. We thought maybe he’d killed you this time.”
“Take more than that to get rid of me. We couldn’t have that now, could we? Not until I can at least locate Bethany’s real murderer and put him behind bars.” Hunter managed a smile as he wrapped his arm around Tessa and walked her back home.
She felt warm and soft and his thoughts shifted to dangerous notions of getting naked in bed with her. He attributed some of his feelings to wanting to claim her in front of her old high-school boyfriend. Some of his problem was just being attracted to the minx—more than he thought he’d ever been toward any woman, either human or lupus garou. He kept telling himself it was just because she’d rescued him from the beach, and it was nothing more than appreciating the tender care she’d given him. On the other hand, he might have often felt this way toward women. Hell, maybe he was a real Casanova.
“He’s the guy you’re hiring to look into this?” Rourke asked, his voice incredulous.
“Yeah. He’s an ex–Navy SEAL.” She looked up at Hunter with adoring eyes.
He thought she was playing her role a little too obviously.
“A Navy SEAL?” Rourke looked sick again.
“Yep.” She patted Hunter’s arm. “Can’t you tell by the great shape he’s in?”
“Why is he an ex–Navy SEAL?”
“He got tired of being away from home, the secret missions, unable to settle down and start a family, right, Hunter?”
Rourke watched them like an investigative reporter looking for another juicy story.
Hunter sighed deep inside. He didn’t like making up tales that were too far from the truth, but then again, what if his cover of being an ex–Navy SEAL put the fear of God in the sheriff and his bad seed? It didn’t hurt for Rourke to think so either. Hunter imagined the word would soon get out about his “former occupation” since Rourke was a reporter. Hmm, then he would probably investigate him. One good thing about being an undercover operative—Rourke couldn’t learn anything.
“Hunter…” Rourke waited for a last name.
Hunter knew only that he was a gray lupus garou. Wolf? Grey?
Grey. That rang a bell. Not quite right, but it would do.
“Grey. And we haven’t been properly introduced.”
Tessa’s eyes widened as she stared at Hunter and she missed a step. He tightened his hold on her. Wishing he had better news, he gave her a subtle shake of his head, warning her he didn’t know for sure.
“Rourke Thornburg,” the reporter offered and stuck his hand out.
Hunter gave his hand a firm shake, firm enough to let him know the power behind the man.
Rourke’s eyes watered and he quickly pulled his hand away. Message received.
Tessa pursed her lips. “Did you see the man who was shooting in the woods?”
“There were two of them. I told them to find game somewhere else, farther north.”
