Wolf Six's Salvation: A Shifter Love Story (3 page)

"Dr. Vincetti. Listen, my boss was supposed to pick these up for the doctor this afternoon, but he forgot, so I'm getting them. I really am on my way out the door." She closed the filing cabinet, holding several manila envelopes to her chest.

He wanted to believe her. He really, really did, but the years of training wouldn't relent. Despite her delicious scent, she was hiding something. He crossed his arms, doing his best to look commanding but not intimidating.

"I would believe you, except for one thing. All of Dr. Vincetti's medical files are now electronic," he said. He should know, he had gone through a chunk of them looking for any cases similar to his own.

She smiled smoothly, her body language giving off nothing but calm, but he could hear her heart pounding like mad in her chest. A small trickle of fear leaked out of her, but she was managing to hold most of it in. He had to give her props. If he didn't have heightened senses, he would never have been able to spot the lie.

"I didn't say he wanted medical files." She held up the manila envelopes. "This is for his medical grant. He needed more background information."

"I don't believe you," he said softly. It was hard to concentrate with her scent filling up the small storage space. If she only knew the effect she was having on him, she could have smiled and walked right past him. He would have even carried the files if she asked.

"That's too bad. My boss told me I wouldn't have any trouble getting these for him," she lied smoothly, her eyes darting to the door as she tucked the files into an over the shoulder bag on the top of the filing cabinet. She slid the strap smoothly over her pretty head, still managing to keep her bodily language calm. He was surprised he couldn't see her heart beating through the material of her scrubs, it was hammering so hard.

"I think I'll need to call security." The words didn't even sound like they were coming from his own mouth. He didn't want to get her in trouble. He would do anything to get her out of trouble. He wished he could just clap a hand over his mouth to keep himself from talking. This wasn't going at all how he wanted.

"That really isn't necessary," she started, edging her way along the wall and closer to the door. He didn't move, his eyes following her tiniest of movements. She was so beautiful to him it was almost painful.

An alarm began to blare, filling the air with a shrieking high-pitched scream that made him instinctively place his hands over his ears and cringe. His heightened hearing made the obnoxious sound even worse.

The girl's eyes went wide for a second as she saw her chance and she took it, darting past him and out into the hallway. He watched her run down the hallway and out of the building, keeping his hands on his ears but his feet in one place. Her scent trailed behind her out into the night and he breathed it in, closing his eyes.

He didn't know who she was or why she was stealing the files. He wasn't even really sure if the alarm was even meant for her or if it was just bad timing. All he knew is that he had to find her again. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the warmth and sweetness of her scent envelope him.

C
hloe was breathless and shaking as she slid across the tattered red vinyl seat into her favorite booth. The 24-hour diner was quiet with only a single other customer at the counter eating some pie. It was the perfect place for her to look at the file and still be in public. Something told her not to go home just yet, so she listened to the little voice inside her head. It was usually right about stuff like this.

She peered across the room at the dark window, but the sidewalk outside was empty. A cold wind blew a breath of snow skittering across the street, but no one appeared. She shook her head, telling herself she was being paranoid. No one knew about the hole in the fence. No one but the one handsome soldier had seen her, and he wouldn't have followed her here. It surprised her that she half wished he had; the way his eyes had almost glowed gold in the dark, the way they had followed her, the strength of his arms under the uniform...

"You're just high on adrenaline," she whispered to herself. He probably wasn't half as handsome as she seemed to be remembering him. Uniforms usually turned her off, but for some reason, his made her stomach tighten and ache for release. She shook her head. It was just the adrenaline. She had work to do.

A tired waitress with her gray hair pulled back into a messy bun poured her a cup of coffee, leaving a small cup full of individual creamers on the table. Chloe waited anxiously until she left, clutching the manila envelope through the shoulder bag under the table. This particular booth butted up against the back two walls. She liked it because no one could read over her shoulder and most people didn't even realize it was there. She studied here when she had a big exam. The coffee was always fresh and the pie was amazing. It was her favorite secret study spot.

But tonight, she wasn't here to study regulatory RNA regulation or mechanisms of gene expression. No, tonight she was here to learn how to find her brother. She checked one last time to make sure the waitress was behind the counter talking to the man eating pie before carefully laying a file out on the table. With shaking hands, she opened the file with
Madison, B
labeled neatly on the front.

It was a medical file of some sort. She scanned through the intake form, skipping over the answers she already knew. Of course her brother was six feet one inch, weight 173 pounds, his eyes were green (like hers), brown hair, a tattoo of a wolf on his left shoulder (she still couldn't believe he had gotten that after their high school mascot), and blood type A negative. The next page was a genetic screen with all the normal genetic markers that went with it except for one. It was a small footnote at the end of the genetic document marking that he had tested positive for the Lycan gene.

Chloe frowned and read it again. She was in her second semester of doctoral program for human genetics and she had never heard of the "Lycan gene." She sat back against the seat, hearing it squeak slightly as she frowned in thought. Sergeant Roberts had whispered something about the "Lycan Project." The fact that the two were the same made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She gave a shiver and closed the file.

Pulling her phone from her coat pocket, she opened an email to her doctoral adviser. If anyone would know what the Lycan Gene was, it would be Dr. Quentin Turner. She sent him a quick message to see if he would meet her at one of the school library study rooms in the morning.

The phone chimed a reply before she even set her phone down. Her eyebrows raised, but she figured he must just be at the lab working on his latest experiments. The message was just a calendar invite for ten a.m. in study room three. Chloe smiled, enjoying the simplicity of the rather eccentric Dr. Turner. She hit accept and put her phone back in her pocket.

She read the file twice more, but nothing new popped out at her. She sipped at her coffee, realizing she had already had half of it and without any cream.

"I must be more tired than I thought," she murmured to herself as she poured two servings of creamer and a sugar into the coffee cup. She usually hated the taste of plain, black coffee, but for some reason she hadn't even noticed it. She wondered if the soldier from the records room liked his coffee black.

Captain
. He had two parallel bars on his uniform. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember what his name tape had said. Blake had taught her to look at ranks and insignias when he had come home from basic.
Wolfe.
The soldier's name was Captain Wolfe.

Chloe opened her eyes and frowned at the coffee cup in her hands. She had no idea why she felt she needed to know the captain's name. He had just been some random soldier who had happened to catch her on the base. She would never see him again. That thought made her sad. For some strange reason, she wanted to see those golden eyes again.

T
he reports on the newly replaced desk in front of Captain Wolfe blurred yet again. Jackson was glad that the new desk was of stainless steel this time; his chances of breaking it accidentally were much lower. He had managed to reorganize most of the files from the night before, but now that he was trying to read them and concentrate, he felt his mind drifting. All he could think of was the dreams of her. For once the nightmares of his transformation in Afghanistan had been held at bay; instead he had dreamed of her. The curl of her hair against her neck. The perfect smattering of freckles across her cheeks. Her scent floated around in his memory like a welcome ghost, making him smile unconsciously as he remembered it.

His whole life, Jackson had an enriched sense of smell. As a teenager, he had been surprised to learn that not everyone could smell the things he did. It was something that he utilized in his interrogations. He could smell fear. The trickle of bitter sweat that came with a lie. It was part of what made him such an effective interrogator. In his whole life, he had never smelled anything as wonderful as her. It was almost like a drug.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. Jackson was beginning to think he was going even crazier than he already was. No one was supposed to smell that good. No one had ever made his body tighten quite like that. He was putty in her hands and he knew it. There were so many strange things in this new world of his, and this was just one more odd thing to add to the list. The fact that she was having this strong of an effect on him was proof enough that he was changing and shouldn't be out among people. Who knew what he would do if he smelled that on someone else?

"Captain Wolfe!" The door to his office slammed into the wall with a metallic thud that hurt his ears as the base commander stormed into the tiny space. Jackson barely managed to keep the snarl from his face. He had disliked Colonel Bronn from the moment they had met. Wolfe rose to standing as the man barreled into his office. Part of him wanted to growl at the breach of his territory, but the colonel outranked him and had every right to barge into the office as if it were his own.

Colonel Conrad Bronn was an intimidating man. Despite the fact that Jackson was a good three inches taller, the Colonel still seemed to look down at him. Everything about the Colonel was hard and demanding. His mouth was a thin line framed by a strong nose and heavy brow with a frown that never budged. His hair was cropped so close to the skin it was impossible to tell what color it might have been; even his camouflage uniform was perfectly pressed and straight.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Captain Wolfe asked calmly, placing his fingertips on the desk in front of him. Jackson wasn't used to being interrupted during his work and he was doing his best to stay calm. There would be nothing gained by being angry and possibly releasing the wolf inside of him.

"I was told you were here when the break-in occurred?" the Colonel asked, striding to the front of Jackson's desk and placing his big hands on the shiny surface. The veins on Bronn's neck bulged and pulsated out of his uniform.

"I was. I'm afraid I didn't see anything." Jackson sat down, making sure that the chair didn't buckle underneath him. He wasn't going to be baited into anger by this man.

"Bullshit. The guards said they found you by the door." Bronn's pale blue eyes flashed with hostility.

"When the alarm went off, I went to investigate. My office is just down the hall from the Records Room," Jackson replied smoothly, stacking several papers on his desk into a neat pile. "So of course the guards found me by the room, sir."

The Colonel growled with frustration. "And you didn't see anything?"

"No, sir."

The Colonel removed his hands from Jackson's desk, leaving dirty fingerprints on the once clean surface, and carefully folded them behind his back. "I want to know how someone got on my base and stole from me."

"As far as I know, sir, the perpetrator slid through a hole in the fence. That the guards even noticed that someone had walked through the airfield and left footprints that didn't belong speaks volumes to their training," Jackson replied. "In addition, nothing in the Records Room is classified information. Most of the files are medical records that need to be put into the system."

Colonel Bronn's eyes narrowed to blue icy shards. "I'm sure the soldier or soldiers whose information was stolen wouldn't be pleased to hear your lack of concern."

Jackson's jaw hardened. There was something about this man that he didn't like. Perhaps it was the perfect uniform, the strict observance of protocol even when unnecessary, or the lack of compassion in those cold eyes. It could have even been the man's history of violence and the savage tactics he used in the Middle East that had almost cost the Colonel his rank. Whatever it was, something about the man set Jackson's teeth on edge. It took restraint not to get up and pace the room growling.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I am busy. Base security is not my forte, but I would be happy to assist your men however I can." Jackson smiled in what he hoped was a helpful, friendly smile and not a wolfish grin.

"No, you're right. It appears as though you don't know anything." The Colonel shrugged and turned to step out of the office. Jackson bristled with the implied insult, but he let it slide. Talking back to a superior officer was a good way to just get in trouble. "If you think of anything you might have seen from last night, please let base security know. Oh, and shave by the next time I see you. Just because you just got here doesn't mean you get a free pass. You're supposed to be an example to the other men."

With that, the Colonel walked out of Captain Wolfe's office. Jackson waited until the footsteps were faint echoes in the hall before standing and stomping to close the door. He slammed the door shut, glad to release a little frustration at an inanimate object. Colonel Bronn made Jackson's hackles rise. The Colonel was obviously not happy running a tiny base in the middle of nowhere and wanted that to change. There was too much hunger for power in the man's eyes and Jackson wanted nothing to do with him.