Rogue Wolf (9 page)

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Authors: Heather Long

Tags: #wolf, #strong, #heroes, #heroines, #shifters, #interracial, #wolves, #alpha

BOOK: Rogue Wolf
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The other wolf frowned. “You two need anything?”

“No, at least I don’t think so, Dylan. I’ll check with you when we’re ready to hit the road.” She remained cool, distant, and absolutely controlled.

“Sounds good.” The other wolf hesitated, then took another step toward her. “You sure you’re okay? I can hang out if you don’t want to be alone with the Italian.” No way the other wolf hadn’t seen him. Arrogant puppy needed a lesson in manners.

“I’m fine, Dylan. Go away now.”

Salvatore smirked. Margo giving the pup his orders worked fine for him. She still made no move toward the house, and it was only after Dylan gave her a sheepish grin and disappeared back into the woods that she began the slow walk toward him.

“Eavesdropping is rude,” she said.

“Yes it is.” He agreed with the sentiment.

“So why are you out here doing it?” She raised her eyebrows, but her tone was still too controlled, too distant from the vibrant, snappish woman he’d sparred with earlier.

“Because someone should watch that beautiful ass of yours.” He smiled. “And I found myself available. Hungry?”

She paused and swept her gaze over him. He didn’t puff his chest out, but the piquant hint of desire softened the harsher tone of her stressed scent. “Starving.”

A bolt of pure lust stiffened his cock. He’d wanted to talk to her about her family, but she wouldn’t want to discuss it with him. Not while they were relative strangers. “Do you have any preference?”

Brushing past him, she smiled. “I’m a pretty basic girl. I prefer American beef.”

He chuckled. At least she wasn’t thinking about her parents anymore. He prowled after her into the house. “
Che peccato
,
bella. Che peccato
.”

 

Chapter Five

 

 

Once inside, Margo did a security sweep of the house. The only scent aside from Salvatore’s was human. Though Willow Bend had several human families and members, she didn’t recognize the identity of the woman who’d serviced the house by the smell. She’d half-expected Salvatore to follow her, but he lingered on the first floor while she made a pass through the second. His suitcase stood in the master suite, while her duffel bags sat side-by-side in the second bedroom.

Inside the room, she stared at the bag. Salvatore moved around the first floor of the house. The oven opened, then closed with a distinctive thump. Scrubbing a hand over her face, she pulled out her phone and texted Julian.

Staying in WB w/Alpha to begin hunt. Any news?

He had to have been waiting for her message, because he responded immediately.

Sent email. Reached out to Homeland contacts. Rayne and Luciana Barrows landed at Newark Airport four days ago.

Four days. Son of a bitch. A hell of a lead time.

Rented SUV. SUV returned to agency in Leesburg Virginia.

Were they heading south?

Barrows has a brother in Knoxville, Tennessee. Suspect he picked them up in Leesburg. Dispatched Nelson to confirm.

Her eyes burned, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. Closing in on forty-eight hours with no sleep. She needed a shower and about six hours flat on her face. Her phone buzzed again.

SA no help. Will contact us if Barrows enters her territory.

Serafina Andre was a peculiar kind of Alpha. In her own way, she was as fiercely protective of her people as Mason was of his. If she deemed an issue to be an internal matter, she’d shut them down. Enforcers could enter pack territory and few would attempt to stop them, but Alphas who didn’t want them there could make the visit unpleasant.

Sent you file on Barrows including known associations, previous addresses and profile.

So they didn’t know where he was going. Five packs held sway over the U.S. but there were large tracks of unclaimed territories, the largest being in Margo’s own corridors—Texas. While Serafina Andre laid claim to some small parts of East Texas, major packs didn’t infringe on the Lone Star state.

A tradition that held firm for over a one hundred and fifty years. One didn’t tempt a sleeping beast to challenge those claims. Texas remained on the table. Then again, so were a half a dozen other states.

Will review materials. Then head for Tennessee in twelve hours if no other sightings are reported.
She sent the text and received a simple
K
.

After dropping the phone on the bed, she rubbed her face again. What she needed was a shower, some hot coffee and her laptop. Once she reviewed their files on Rayne, she could plot the hunt. Rogues happened, but most rogues followed discernible patterns. Mad wolves went for maximum damage, fleeing wolves went for empty territory, smart wolves headed to big cities, hoping to lose themselves in the crowd of humanity.

What kind of wolf would Rayne Barrows prove to be?

A phone rang, but it wasn’t hers. Downstairs, Salvatore said something in Italian. The first words sounded calm, the next came in a rapid-fire stream.
Great
. She didn’t speak Italian. If he were preoccupied, she could at least shower. Checking the windows, she passed another sweeping glance around the yard. Dylan Royce wasn’t the only Hunter in the woods. She’d scented four when she’d been with her family.

Mason probably stationed them in a spiral rotation pattern for maximum coverage. They were there as much to discourage the curious from bothering the Italian Alpha as they were to keep an eye on him. Fortunately, no tempers seemed to be fraying or pushing wolves toward bad decisions yet.

She waited for a pause in the rush of Italian to say, “Salvatore I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be down directly.”

“Very well,
bella
. The food will be ready in twenty minutes, according to the instructions.” His immediate answer warmed her. The reaction began somewhere in the vicinity of her chest and unfurled, a sweeping calm.

Mulling the disquieting response, she checked the clothes in her duffel. Most needed to be washed, but she had one last pair of clean underwear. Checking the shirts, she picked out the least offensive in scent. The tank top would leave her arms bare, but she preferred the fresher scent. A pair of shorts lay beneath them and she scowled.

“You’re safe,
bella
.” Salvatore’s voice drifted from the first floor to tease her senses. “Enjoy you’re shower.”

She opened her mouth to call him an asshole, then thought better of it. He’d already promised her he’d see the word as an invitation for pleasure. Stomach tightening at the thought, she clamped her teeth together. Alphas as a general rule irritated the hell out of her. They were difficult to broach topics with, desired control above all things, and often found her unwillingness to bow her head an insult at worst, and a challenge at best.

Saying nothing, she stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. His laughter grated and Margo wanted to spit. Her reaction betrayed the response his words provoked.
Son of a bitch…

Shunting the irritation aside, she turned on the hot water and stripped. Too tired and too cranky to dwell on her unreasonable desire for the man, she focused on getting clean. The hot water pounded on her tense muscles. Once under the luxurious spray, she closed her eyes, her second mistake in as many minutes. Bathed in the steamy warmth, all she wanted to do was go to sleep.

Forcing her eyes open, she found the guest soap—scentless. Perfect. Scrubbing from head to toe, she ignored the ache in her breasts. Attraction was not a new feeling, nor was desire. The fact Salvatore elicited both from her was a problem she’d simply have to deal with so it didn’t impede on her ability to do her job.

Lathering shampoo into her hair, she ignored her phone ringing on the counter. It rang again while she rinsed her hair, stopped, then began ringing while she finished rinsing the conditioner.

Son of a bitch…
Jerking the door open, she dripped over to the counter and picked up the phone. Mason’s name and number appeared on the screen. Answering it, she growled, “Yes?”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Can he hear me?”

Margo tested her hearing against the pounding water in the shower. The low rumble of Salvatore’s voice was audible, but lacked any distinctive words. “I don’t think so.” Better to be cautious. Wolf hearing was sharp and, like most creatures, some had better hearing than others.

“You and I need to talk.” The timbre of Mason’s voice brooked zero disagreements. “Alexis wants to see you.”

No, she didn’t, but Margo understood the request layered within the order. Trusting he would interpret her response correctly, she replied, “I don’t have time for social pleasantries. I already made that clear to my parents. I have a job to do.”

“Make time.” Then, as though in afterthought, he added in a lowered, almost sympathetic voice, “Are Will and Linda giving you grief again?”

“You could say that.” She grabbed a towel and rubbed at her dripping hair.

“But you’re not complaining about them.” The delicate balanced between Lone Wolf, Enforcer and pack wolf included the blurred lines of family. The law said Lone Wolves had no family, no pack, and had to maintain their isolation. Enforcers were given a moderate amount of latitude because their work took them in and out of pack territory. Reality, however, dictated some families crossed those blurred lines. A parent did not want to be separated from their child.

“No,” she said. “Not at all.” Though they could be held at fault for trying to bully her, the bullying came from a well of love and affection. Wolves craved contact with each other and, despite her mother’s intentions to try and force Margo home, she loved seeing them. She also understood where the orders came from—love, not control.

“I can talk to them.” The offer surprised her. Mason Clayborne nursed a grudge against her for years…

“I appreciate the offer.” She did. “But I don’t feel it’s necessary.” The careful phrasing did what an outright rejection would not have succeeded in managing. “Thank you, Mason.”

“You’re welcome, Margo. Come see Alexis before you leave.” Then, he shocked her again. “Meet Melissa.”

The baby.
Still toweling her hair, she considered the gravity of the invitation. Yes, he was using his mate as an excuse she could give Salvatore for why he could not go with her. Mason invited him into his territory, but the Alpha would not risk his mate and child to a stranger. Yet, at the same time, the infant wouldn’t be alive today had Margo not held her tongue when she learned the then very human Alexis was pregnant by Mason—a Lone Wolf. The violation of the law…Julian would be within his rights to execute her if he or any Enforcer learned of her part in it all.

“I would love to meet her.” Blowing out a breath, she stuffed the emotional response away. The lack of sleep was playing havoc with her equilibrium. “If that’s all, I’d like to finish my shower.”

Technically true, even if she was already done.

“Of course, you may finish your shower.” The benevolence in his permission disrupted their otherwise pleasant conversation. Rather than thank him or bite his head off, she simply disconnected the call.

Bastard.
She’d almost thought asshole, but the word didn’t belong to Mason. Wrapping the towel around her midsection, she froze.
Belong
to Mason? Where the hell had that come from? Salvatore’s almost playful smile flashed across her mind and she growled.

No
.

Not only no, but
hell to the fuck no
. After shutting the water off, she used the towel to rub herself dry. The speed and rasping force of the terrycloth against her skin burned. Good, she needed some pain to knock the stupid ideas out of her head.

Anytime you wish to test your claws on me, all you must do is say the word. Capisce?

Asshole. Yep, the word was leaving her lexicon. No way would she give into the wild and crazy urge to fuck the Italian Alpha. Not when the mere memory of the heat in his eyes had her pressing her thighs together. She wasn’t some quivering youth. Sex scratched an itch.

She did not have an itch for Salvatore.

“Margo…” The whisper of his voice on the other side of the door jerked her to a halt. She slid a look at the door and scowled. “Food is ready.”

Clamping her lips shut, she forced her breathing to even so her heart rate would calm. Warm and naked with him on the other side of the door was a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

Discipline and control kept her tone steady. “Thank you.” The fact he’d made her food at all spoke volumes.

“You’re welcome.” He hadn’t moved away. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No.”
Liar.
She ignored the little voice chanting in the back of her mind. Glaring at herself in the mirror, she stared at her wolf’s golden eyes glaring back. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“If you wish,” he said, but his voice was far too close. He hadn’t left the door. “I can wait, if you want.”

Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes. Ignoring her wolf, ignoring the deliciously sexy man on the other side of the door and ignoring her own base responses, she fought for calm. “I’m a big girl, learned how to get dressed a long time ago.”

“I’m sure you are, but don’t get dressed on my account.” Laughter underscored the words.

Ass…

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she growled. Had she started to say the word aloud? Definitely needed to erase it. The last thing she wanted to do was issue an invitation.

Liar.

“Pity.” He almost sounded disappointed. “I’ll see you downstairs.” Finally, he let her hear him walking away from the door. She waited till she heard a sound in the kitchen before she sagged against the counter.

They really needed to find this Rayne Barrows and, if she hadn’t already needed to kill the bastard for breaking the law, she’d execute him for putting her in this hellish position. The ache in her middle curved through her and her sex clenched. No matter how tempting, she wouldn’t be satisfying any urge other than Barrows’ blood on her claws.

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