SEAL Wolf In Too Deep (10 page)

He moved his hand lower, tracing her appendectomy scar with a whisper-soft touch that tickled. He found another scar and then the last, before his fingers continued lower, searching for her nub, then stroking it and coaxing her into climax.

Her skin sizzled with his touch as he nuzzled her cheek and then her neck. He bit playfully at her chin and throat. She was reminded of how primal and intense he seemed at times, but playful and gentle too.

He kept rubbing her bud while kissing her breasts and throat and mouth. She felt the wave building, felt the anticipation climbing, and when the climax hit, she cried out with pleasure. She expected him to enter her then, but he didn't. He continued to touch her and kiss her like he wanted something more between them. That it wasn't all just sex.

Or maybe he was unsure whether he should proceed. Whether she would hate herself in the morning. If she would be unhappy with him for taking this too far and hurting their work relationship.

She didn't want to force him to do anything he didn't want to do, to regret it if he wasn't feeling ready for this. She wasn't used to a man waiting at this juncture. She wondered if he was afraid she was thinking this was forever, which she wasn't. Really.

Ah hell. She pulled him down for more kissing so he could make up his mind, and they started out nice and slow and began to build the tension, the raw passion between them spiraling upward. The next thing she knew, he was fumbling in the drawer for a condom, pulling it on before she could help.

He went slowly at first, filling her to the max, and then began to thrust. He was so powerful and perfect. She loved every moment as if it were her last with him. Because, for all she knew where Allan was concerned, it could very well be, and she wanted to enjoy it.

* * *

Allan had never had sex with a woman who was this willing and then stripped naked privately underneath the covers. He wanted to toss them aside and prove to her that he thought she was beautiful and perfect, even if she had a ton of scars.

He loved the way she knew what she wanted and took it, the way she kissed him back just as thoroughly, seeming just as needy as he was. He kept reminding himself as he'd nuzzled her face and kissed her and stroked her that this was a momentary bit of enjoyment between a man and a woman. Nothing permanent.

Now she held him in her wet, warm embrace while he thrust inside her. He kissed her again, then continued to thrust deep inside her. When he came, he felt the intense exhilaration, and then a sense of peace descended over him. He kissed her thoroughly again, and then pulled out and left the bed to dispose of the condom, wash up, and return to her.

He slipped back under the covers and pulled her into his arms. She seemed a little surprised at first, but then she eagerly cuddled against him. This was the way wolves slept, nestled together, even if she wasn't a wolf. He shouldn't have stayed with her for that reason alone.

Still, Allan thought he could do this. Have sex with Debbie a time or two, and then give it up. He told himself he just had to get it out of his system. That once they did it, they would relieve the sexual tension that seemed to be hovering between them.

He kept telling himself he could control his urges better after that. Like eating a sweet slice of cake and satisfying that need. Afterward, he'd realize—and she would too—that sex between them wasn't that big a deal. So why the hell did he want to do this again after they got some shut-eye?

* * *

After more hot loving a couple of hours later, Debbie said, “I need more dessert.”

Allan chuckled. “Okay. More cookies?”

She smiled back. “Yeah, unless you want something else.”

“I could eat the whole batch.” He pulled on his briefs while she slipped her robe on and tied it, and then they headed for the kitchen.

While they were having milk and cookies in the living room, she began thinking about the case again. “Okay, so the case of the dead woman looked personal. I really believe the killer didn't murder her randomly. That he targeted her specifically.”

“Right.”

“Okay, so here's another far-out theory. We're assuming the guy in the car was a werewolf hunter because the gun in the lake had silver rounds. But what if he was a werewolf? The hunter lost the gun in the lake, so maybe the werewolf disarmed him and threw it in the lake. Then the hunter had to kill the werewolf using other means. He beat him to death, then staged the car accident as a way to disguise the murder.”

“But if silver is the only way to kill the werewolf…”

She shook her head. “Of course the victim wasn't a werewolf. The hunter only thought he was. So he died by regular human methods. Werewolves don't exist. I'm just trying to get into the head of the killer.”

But a shadow crossed over Allan's face, and she swore he thought something she'd said had merit.

“What do you think?”

He smiled as if he wasn't thinking anything about the case and snatched up another cookie. “One more for the road.”

Back in the bedroom when she made a move to slip beneath the covers before she pulled off her robe, Allan began kissing her, untying her robe and then slipping it off her shoulders. He wanted to show her in the worst way that she was beautiful to him. He wanted to see every glorious inch of her and revel in her. He didn't want her feeling self-conscious about her scars.

As soon as her robe hit the floor, she tried to slip away to the security of the bed.

He held her face and kissed her again to show her she didn't have to hide from him. With his lips pressed against her sweet, warm mouth, he began to pull off his briefs and dropped them on the floor.

He glanced down at the scars marring her milky skin—the small appendectomy one and two others. They had healed up years ago, but the two were long and wicked looking, not the work of a surgeon's knife. He suspected that was the reason she had hidden them from him.

He leaned down to kiss a breast, his hand molding to the other. She was beautiful and perfect just the way she was, her dusky pink nipples growing rigid, her breathing turning rapid. He ran his tongue over a nipple and then sucked on it, moving over to the other to do the same thing.

“You're beautiful,” he said, admiring her lovely breasts, her toned body, and even her pink toenails. Then he swept her up in his arms and carried her to bed.

In one fluid movement, he laid her down on the mattress and covered her body with his. He loved the feel of her hot, soft skin against his and the way he rested between her legs, his arousal nestled between them.

They began to kiss again, his tongue stroking inside her mouth, slowly and deeply, his body sliding along hers as she moved against him, making him all the harder.

I want you
, he wanted desperately to say. He craved her now and forever. Did he want her because she was human and he couldn't fully commit to her?

She began stroking his back and he rubbed his cock between her legs, feeling her moisten for him, smelling her pheromones, and wishing she could smell his like a wolf could.

He dipped his hand between them and began to stroke her to bring her to climax while he kissed and licked her neck, then nipped at her chin. Her breath was nearly suspended, shallow, her heartbeat rapid as he stroked her into ecstasy. But his thoughts were moving to the dark side—he wanted to bite her and turn her.

She breathed deeply, held her breath, and let it out in a big sigh.

He began kissing her again, so eager to push into her, he almost forgot to grab a condom. As soon as he'd sheathed himself, he pushed inside her, filling her, enjoying the way she closed around him in a heated, tight embrace.

Driving home, he thrust deep inside her until he came, cognizant of her hands stroking his back and buttocks, the way she met his thrusts with eagerness, the way she gloried in the feel of him inside her. Spent, hating that this had to come to an end, he sank down on top of her. He wished she was a wolf and all his.

But after their late-night discussion, he had a new concern. What if she was right about the dead man in the lake being a werewolf? When Allan had helped pull the man from the car, he'd had his face mask on and couldn't smell anything. Once they had deposited the man on the shore for the coroner to handle, he and Debbie had returned to the car, searching for any other clues and taking more photographs. Before they resurfaced, the body had been removed. He would never have considered that the dead man might have been a wolf. Allan had to get word to Paul as soon as he could and have someone run down to the morgue to check it out.

Debbie swore Allan had been fighting with himself over making love to her. She couldn't pinpoint why it appeared to give him such trouble when he seemed to enjoy it as much as she did. But she sensed disquiet in him. She was probably overanalyzing the situation, but he just seemed worried somehow. And yet he didn't just have sex with her and leave. He always treated her as though he truly did care for her.

Every time he left the bed to dispose of a condom, she worried he wouldn't come back to her. Yet every time he did, pulling her into his arms and holding her close the night through, as if he truly didn't want to lose her while they slept. She couldn't understand what he seemed to be concerned about.

He'd stroke her arm or back as if he liked to continue to show how much pleasure he took in being with her. And then they'd sleep and wake to more lovemaking.

She thought he'd go to sleep after a while, but this time he asked, “Where did you get the other scars?”

She hated talking about this. She let out her breath. She hated that she still felt responsible to some extent, despite receiving them in her youth.

Allan continued to caress her arm gently, not pressuring her to talk.

She let out her breath in exasperation. “My father was drunk most of the time or sleeping it off. He could barely hold a job. He'd have blackouts and night terrors and think he saw demons. I must have heard something, got scared, and went in to see my mother. He thought I was something evil. He had a hunting knife by the bed and cut me. Mom rushed me to the hospital and made up some story that I was making myself a sandwich, slipped on water on the kitchen floor, and cut myself.”

“And they believed it?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

“Social services were called in. But either I was a good actor, or they didn't have enough proof to go on because I wouldn't tell them the truth.”

“Nor would your mother.”

“She was an enabler extraordinaire. Anyway, Dad's dead, so”—she shrugged—“it's over.”

“And your mother?”

“We don't speak. How could she not protect her daughter better? She's in denial that he ever did anything harmful to me. Sometimes I think she actually believes the story she made up.”

Allan shook his head. “You shouldn't have had to suffer through that. But you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I shouldn't have gone into their bedroom…”

“You were a kid and scared. It wasn't your fault.” He caressed her skin with a light touch. “You're beautiful.”

She wrapped his arms around her, glad he was in her life but wishing he wanted more, like she did.

* * *

That morning, they made love one more time and then had a light breakfast before hitting the road for Helena. They stopped for hamburgers at a fast-food restaurant for a quick lunch, since Debbie wanted to get on with the investigation concerning the shooter, pronto. She was so glad they might finally have a lead in the two cases.

Zeta was the organizer of the Wolf Zone LARP game and was happy to meet with them when they told her they worked for the sheriff's department. When they walked into her apartment, they saw playbills of small-town theater productions posted all over her walls. She looked like Little Orphan Annie with bright orange curls, her lipstick the same color as her hair.

Debbie studied the posters while Zeta offered seats in her living room on the brown velour wraparound sofa.

“Another man came asking about Sarah Engle and Lloyd Bates. Otis Lister too. They're all members of the Wolf Zone but have disappeared. I was afraid something bad might have happened to them.” She handed Debbie and Allan photos of each of the three people. “I take pictures of the players, and then we pass them around so that everyone can decide who the wolves are. Oh, and when a person dies, as in a werewolf kills a hunter or a hunter kills a werewolf, then everyone knows and that person no longer plays the game. They can watch but not participate. They're dead for the purposes of the game.”

“Another man was questioning you? A police officer, you mean?” Debbie asked, glancing at the photos. She immediately recognized the woman from the morgue and the man they had found dead in the car. She looked to see if Allan had too.

He nodded to her.

“No, he wasn't a police officer. He said he was a private investigator looking into a friend's request to find Sarah and make sure she was safe. I assumed he might actually find her when the police felt their hands were tied in the case.”

“Okay, so this man,” Allan said, pointing at the one that featured the Van Lake murder victim, “is Lloyd?”

“Yes. Sarah's lover.”

Was the man in the black sedan Otis? Following Debbie because he thought she might know something about the case? But why would he not just go to the sheriff's office and ask them? Or follow anyone who was working on the case?

Debbie chewed on her bottom lip. “What was the PI's name?”

“Vaughn Greystoke.”

No one Debbie knew. “Who was he working for?”

“He said it was a man named Devlyn Greystoke, so I assumed they were related. He said they were cousins.”

Allan stiffened a little beside Debbie, and she glanced at him. Allan quickly pulled his gaze from hers and again looked at the photos. “What about the man who was her lover?”

“Mr. Greystoke wanted to know about him too, afraid that he might have had something to do with her disappearance. He said he was a private investigator, but I think he was more than that. He seemed really protective of her and angry her lover had disappeared too. Like he believed Lloyd had something to do with her disappearance in a bad way.”

“Where was Mr. Greystoke from?” Allan asked.

“Somewhere in Colorado. Can't remember the exact location. I don't remember Sarah ever mentioning being from there. Then again, I don't recall her saying where she was from, nor did I think to ask.”

“Are you sure the man who disappeared also was her lover?” Allan asked.

“Yes. We all joked and said if one of them was the werewolf, the other would be in real trouble. Well, unless both were the werewolves. But I knew better. You understand that none of them knew who the real werewolves were, except for me. I was the moderator for the game, so I made all the rules and made sure everyone stuck to them.”

“So you knew Lloyd was a werewolf hunter and Sarah was a werewolf?” Debbie asked.

“Yeah. Really, they made a big deal of it to begin with when I first assigned everyone their roles. Sarah came and secretly told me she didn't want to be the hunter. And Lloyd did the same with his role as a werewolf. He wanted to be a hunter. No big deal to me. I swapped them out, though normally we play the roles we're given. So even though they made a big issue out of wanting to play different roles, they ended up being lovers.
Go figure.
But secretly? I think Sarah was really interested in Lloyd. There was some intense stuff going on between them.

“Lloyd?” Zeta shrugged. “I think he was interested in the sex, and I think he believed she was playing the part of a hunter. So it was okay to be with her. But I think she knew he was a hunter. Maybe he told her, and she let on that she was one too. Players are supposed to lie about what role they're playing while they try to convince everyone they're one of the good guys so they don't get killed off early in the game. It's all a matter of acting the part.”

Zeta offered them sodas. Both thanked her but declined.

“If you had a part to play, which would you prefer?” Zeta asked. She sounded curious, maybe wanting to know if they thought her games were silly.

“A hunter,” Allan said, not even hesitating.

“Hmm, whatever part I was offered, I'd play it the best I could,” Debbie said.

Zeta smiled and Debbie felt she'd won her over a bit.

“Was there a man by the name of Guy Lamb in your group?” Allan asked, and Debbie snapped her mouth shut as she wondered what that was all about.

“Yeah, yeah, he was here. But he was here before the others arrived—Otis, Lloyd, Sarah. So what's this all about?” Zeta asked.

“Lloyd and Sarah are dead.” Debbie wished she had better news for her.

“Oh my…ohmigod.” Tears sprang into Zeta's eyes, and for an instant, Debbie wondered if it was all an act—if she hadn't known the deceased that well. Zeta choked back a sob and said, “I'll…I'll be right back.”

Debbie glanced at Allan to see his take on Zeta's behavior. He raised his brows a little at her, but he had a dark look, and she wondered if he knew something more about this…Devlyn. And what was the business with Guy Lamb? Or maybe Allan thought Zeta was somehow involved in the murders.

Zeta returned with a box of tissues, set it on the coffee table, then grabbed one and blew her nose. She took her seat. “Sorry. I'd been upset with Sarah…” She paused and her eyes widened. “They're dead because of an accident, right?”

“No, they were murdered,” Debbie said. “Why were you upset with Sarah?”

Zeta wiped her eyes again. “She moved here about six months ago, and we met at auditions to play roles in a local theater production. We really hit it off. We went to movies together and had lunches out. Neither of us was seeing a guy at the time, so it was perfect. I had started Wolf Zone about two months earlier, and some of the folks that had participated in the group had moved—like Guy Lamb—or their lives had gotten too busy.

“So I started a new game with some of the same players and some new ones. I asked Sarah if she wanted to play. She was all for it, but I thought she'd want to be a hunter, not a werewolf. Most of the time, the women want to be the hunters and not the prey. You never know people very well until something like that happens, you know?” Tears spilled down Zeta's cheeks, and she hastily brushed them away.

“I'm so sorry. I've had friends like that before—you know, one minute they're your best girlfriend, doing everything with you, and the next thing you know, they're stuck to some guy like peanut butter. And that's the end of the all-girl activities. So I was annoyed with her because she dumped me like I was no one of importance after we'd been really close.”

Before Debbie could ask Zeta any more questions, Allan queried, “So what was she like? What did she like?”

Zeta stared morosely at the table. “I thought she would have a falling-out with Lloyd and come back.” Then she frowned at Debbie and Allan. “Not that I'd just take right back up with her. How she'd acted was not the way to treat friends.”

“Why did you think she might have a falling-out with Lloyd?” Debbie asked.

“He wasn't right for her. I don't know. Something was off with both him and his friend. They said they were actors, and they really acted their parts, but they just seemed—intense.
Too
intense. Like they were getting into their roles a little too much. They had one of the women in tears because they thought she was the wolf and really bullied her. I had to put a stop to it and told them if they didn't obey the rules, they had to leave the group. They were fine after that. I really thought they should have been the wolves.”

* * *

Why? Because the wolves were always growly, aggressive, and needed to be put down? Allan hadn't heard of any Vaughn Greystoke, but many
lupus garous
used “Grey,” “Gray,” or “Silver” in their names to portray their gray wolf heritage, so that immediately caught his attention. Particularly if Sarah had been in this man's pack and he was trying to track her down.

Allan had heard of a Devlyn Greystoke, a gray wolf pack leader in Colorado who had mated a red wolf. He'd been in Portland, Oregon, where she had been incarcerated at a zoo and the incident had made national news. Naked woman in the Oregon Zoo penned up with a real red wolf in freezing weather? Then she disappears from a hospital?

Even Allan and his pack members had heard the news and knew the two had to be wolves, though the media thought that Devlyn and Bella were animal advocates, intent on releasing the red wolf into the wild.

Debbie asked, “So what was Sarah like?”

“She was really different from me. She loved to stay out really late, and she was raring to go early in the morning. Who can burn the candle at both ends and still function? Not me. Anyway, she loved the woods. We went camping one night, not really my thing, but she was so enthusiastic about it. So I thought maybe going with her would make a difference. But then she left the tent in the middle of the night. She had me worried sick because she took so long to return. I thought something had gotten her. A wolf or bear or cougar.

“Anyway, she finally returned and I gave her hell for leaving me all alone for so long, well, in a sleepy way. She looked worn out but really happy and climbed back into her sleeping bag. I asked her where the hell she'd gone. For a run, she told me. I knew she was just teasing me. I figured she had to go to the bathroom. But sheesh, I'm not a camper. It scared the tar out of me to be alone in the woods with all the wolves howling, bugs making their racket, and owls hooting.”

“Wolves howling?” Allan asked.

“Well, maybe just one. All it takes is one to send shivers up your spine.”

“Did she have a passion for anything in particular?” Allan asked.

“She ate barely cooked steaks. We'd go out and she'd say she wanted them rare. Not medium rare. But just seared for a couple of seconds on the outside. Yuck. I'm vegan, so it was really hard for me to watch her eat something that was bleeding all over the plate.”

“Did she have family?” Allan asked.

“No. She said she was an only child and her parents had died. So she was footloose and fancy free. Me? I've got four sisters and tons of cousins, but I'm not close to any of them. Not like I was with Sarah. We just, I don't know, had fun together. Kind of an odd pairing, I know. But we still had fun. She used to play her wolf role to the hilt. With me. She couldn't with the others.