Wolfen (31 page)

 
She'd
wanted
to be a bad girl, just to know what it was like.

 
She considered it for a moment and finally shrugged—pretty fun, actually.

 
The downside to it was that it hadn't worked out quite the way she'd envisioned it. She was supposed have wild, gratuitous sex with handsome hunks and enjoy herself thoroughly, not worry about whether they did or not, or how they felt about it, period, as long as they cooperated, and then go on her merry way with fond memories of whats-their-names, the biker quints.

 
She wasn't supposed to feel badly about any of it, or guilty. She wasn't supposed to feel like she'd screwed up something that could've really been
something
. She wasn't supposed to feel regret for any reason—or bad about herself. It was supposed to be an ego trip as much as anything else.

 
Danika Whitney whose entire life was a dead bore, who never did anything, never took chances, had a wild and wonderful fling she could paste in her scrapbook so she could remind herself now and again that she'd actually been bold and brazen just
once,
and it had been fabulous.

 
She thought she could've been happy if she could've left thinking that they felt the same way about it—that they'd had a wild fling with whats-her-name the nerdy scientist chick that spent most of her time watching animals and it had been pretty damned great. She had a bad feeling that wasn't the way it was going to turn out, though.

 
Especially for her.

 
She hadn't expected to actually like them. She'd thought they were going to be like ... pretty dolls, basically characterless. They should've been shallow, completely self-centered and empty-headed, not smart and funny, charming and helpful, polite and considerate—and sweet.

 
There was no sense in worrying about it now, she told herself. It was done. She'd had a hell of an experience and she should be glad she'd gotten the chance to live a little, taste the spicy side of life she'd never really thought she would get the chance at.

 
She
was
glad. It was just that she was missing them already and they weren't even gone yet—not physically anyway—otherwise, probably.

 
It was just as well. She hadn't spent nearly enough time on her study. She'd managed by sheer determination to gather enough data to cover her ass, but she hadn't been focused like she should have been,
would
ordinarily have been.

 
On the other hand, the wolves were really starting to scare her and she thought, even without the distraction of the bikers, that she would've been having a hard time pushing herself to get out and watch them after everything that had happened. She respected wildlife and she had always been careful not to intrude any more than she had to and not to take unnecessary risks. Of course the wolves were the most dangerous species she'd ever studied, and she wasn't nearly as qualified as she should've been for the job she'd been hired to do, but she was as certain as she could be that the pack was
not
behaving normally.

 
She just didn't know what to do about it. She couldn't go back and report that she
felt
like the wolves were behaving abnormally and that they would certainly become a danger to the locals if they weren't already. Bill Fellows, the man who'd actually hired her and sent her out, had already told her he didn't think he could get an ok to take the wolves out without something concrete to back up the recommendation.

 
That meant she was going to have to get that ‘concrete’ something, one way or another, and she wasn't terribly keen on the possibilities that presented themselves. They'd nearly gotten her twice now. The third time, so it was said, was always the charm.

 
[Back to Table of Contents]

 
Chapter Thirteen

"Going somewhere?"

 
A jolt went through Danika that was hard enough it rattled the contents of the bag she had slung over her shoulder. In the process of locking the door to the cabin, she whirled at the sound of Con's voice. A wave of disorientation washed over her at the sudden movement, punctuated by a couple of sharp stabs of pain in her temple. She put a hand to her head. “You startled me."

 
His gaze moved over face, settling on the sunglasses perched on her nose. “Sorry. I just thought if you were headed to town I'd get a lift."

 
She glanced at the row of motorcycles lined up in front of his cabin.

 
He leaned back against the hood of her truck, folding his arms over his chest. “I was going to pick up a few things. It would be easier to haul them back if I rode with you."

 
"Actually I wasn't,” she said apologetically, waving the map she held in her hand. “I have some work I needed to do.” She hesitated, chewing her lip indecisively. She hated being disobliging, especially when she couldn't see that it would really interfere with her own plans. “I could still take you, though. I don't work on the clock."

 
A slow grin curled his lips. He straightened away from the vehicle, dropping his arms. “Good."

 
The smile made her heart flutter uncomfortably. There ought to be a law against men that good looking!

 
She moved down the steps to the yard carefully, unconsciously holding her head, and leaned over just enough to unlock the door of her vehicle. Con slid into the passenger seat as she climbed in, adjusted his side of the split bench seat as far back as it would go and sprawled comfortably, half turned toward her. “You look like you had a rough night, baby."

 
"Oh thanks! That's just the sort of thing a woman likes to hear! Baby, you look like shit!"

 
He chuckled, scrubbing his hand over his jaw wryly. “That was meant to be commiseration for the hangover."

 
She sent him a sharp glance and winced. Her
eyeballs
hurt! “You don't look like you're suffering too much,” she observed dryly.

 
"A hair of the dog,” he said simply.

 
A vague sense of nausea surfaced, although she hadn't detected the smell of beer on him. “Oh please! I just got my stomach settled—sort of."

 
He frowned at that, scanning her speculatively. “You didn't drink that much."

 
Danika shoved her key in the ignition and started the truck. “Obviously, it was enough. I don't drink—I mean ever. And I've never had beer before. I don't think I will again, either, considering the way I felt when I got up."

 
He picked up the map she'd dropped on the seat between them when she'd gotten in, studying it thoughtfully. “What are these marks for?"

 
"Possibilities."

 
He quirked a dark blond brow at her questioningly. She flicked a glance at him, considering whether to tell or not and finally shrugged inwardly. “I need to wrap things up. The wolves seem to be very active in the woods near the camp, but I haven't located their liar. I'm going to check those places out today. That's why I was taking the truck. They don't usually roam such a large territory, but then again these wolves don't seem to follow any of the studies I've referenced."

 
"Want company?"

 
She glanced at him in surprise but the suggestion wasn't unwelcome. The prospect of spending the day with him was almost as appealing as the fact that the idea of encountering the wolves wasn't nearly as unnerving if she didn't have to be alone. “You'd be bored stiff. I'm sure you have better things to do with your time."

 
He shrugged. “Actually, I don't. And I haven't noticed that you were boring."

 
Danika felt a blush heat her cheeks. “I hope you're not talking about last night."

 
He grinned. “That was ... interesting."

 
Danika couldn't help but chuckle with embarrassment. She was instantly sorry. “Oh god! I didn't do anything really awful, did I?"

 
He looked at her curiously. “You don't remember?"

 
"Too much and not enough,” she said wryly. “Enough to wish I didn't remember what I do."

 
"You didn't do or say anything you need to be embarrassed about. We were drinking, too, remember?"

 
She frowned. “Yes and no. I don't think anybody got as drunk as I did."

 
"Then again, you don't remember it very clearly."

 
She relaxed fractionally. “I really wasn't acting really stupid?” she asked hopefully. “That you noticed, I mean?"

 
He studied her a moment and finally grinned. “You're cute when you've had too much to drink."

 
"I don't know how to take that."

 
"Let's just say it was a side of you I hadn't seen."

 
"Oh that sounds ominous!"

 
He settled an arm on the back of her seat, curling his hand along the back of her neck and massaging it. “It's alright, baby,” he said gruffly.

 
His hand felt good, the massage of his fingers even better, the reassurance and the way he said it best of all. “That feels so good,” she murmured. “I took some painkiller and it helped, but it just sort of took the edge off."

 
He glanced around. “Pull off over there and I'll give you a good neck rub."

 
It was tempting. “You don't need to do that. I'm fine."

 
"Pull off,” he said testily.

 
She felt silly, but she pulled off and cut the ignition.

 
Unclipping his seatbelt, he reached across and released hers. When she presented him with her back, he dragged her across the seat and settled her between his thighs.

 
"It's a little cramped for this,” she pointed out as he clamped a hand on either shoulder and began compressing and releasing his hands in a motion that fell somewhere between pain and ecstasy.

 
"We could always get in the back,” he murmured near her ear, lifting goose-bumps along her neck that scurried down her arm and across her chest, making her nipples perk up.

 
"It's broad daylight!” she objected with amusement. “I wouldn't want to have to explain
that
if a cop decided to stop and investigate."

 
He grunted instead of answering. “Lean forward."

 
When she complied, he moved his hands down to her back, worked them down her spine and then back up again to her shoulders and then to her neck. “You have
wonderful
hands,” she murmured dreamily.

 
"I do?"

 
His voice was husky but laced with humor. He lifted his hands to her head, threading his fingers through her hair and pressing his palms against her skull. “Mmm."

 
She was relaxed almost to a state of unconsciousness when he finally stopped, so much so that she wasn't completely aware he'd stopped at first. She'd just sort of oozed down to rest against his chest, dropping her head to rest against his hard shoulder.

 
"Better?” he murmured, nuzzling his face against the side of hers.

 
She exhaled a deep sigh. “Mmmhmm."

 
His arms encircled her. He splayed one palm along her ribs but made no attempt to glide upward the few inches it would've taken to cup a breast. He shifted, turning her slightly toward him after a few moments. “Headache gone?"