The Covert Wolf

Minutes later, they drove down a narrow lane flanked by oak and maple trees. Matt turned into a street lined with two-story elegant homes, each house boasting about half an acre of property. Sienna blinked.

“Guess spell casting is a lucrative business these days.”

He didn’t reply. His gaze was focused on the patrol car blocking the street. Yellow crime scene tape was strung across the lawn of a brick home. Dread churned in his stomach.

“That’s her house?” But even as their gazes met, he sensed she knew.

Making a U-turn, he drove out of the neighborhood, down the lane and turned down an adjacent street. Matt parked and shut off the engine.

“I’m going inside to check things out. You stay here.”

“You said I was supposed to stick by your side. And how do you plan to get in? Shift into your wolf shape? That might raise a few brows. Or get someone to call animal control. I’ll go with you and glamour us so we blend in with the background. The cops will never know you’re here.”

He gritted his teeth. Didn’t like it. He needed his team, not this sassy, pretty Fae who didn’t even know what a pyro demon could do to bare flesh.

They were stuck together. And she was a Fae who could glamour.

“Fine. But follow my orders,” he grated out.

They cut through a well-manicured lawn, Sienna keeping up the cloak of glamour to hide their presence. Uniformed police and detectives in worn jackets milled in the driveway. A maple tree, resplendent in fall crimson, stood guard next to a pole where an American flag fluttered in the slight breeze. With its black shutters, crisp brick and trimmed bushes, the house looked no different from its upscale neighbors’.

Except for the blood splatters on the green grass.

The magick shimmered for a minute as Sienna gasped. Matt shook his head. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”

She shot him a cool look. “I don’t fall apart.”

“Good girl. Keep up the glamour or they’ll see us.”

As they neared the house, Matt led her to the deserted side of the house, sheltered by a tall hedge.

“I’m going inside. Stay here.”

“Let me help. I can glean some information while you’re inside.”

Matt clasped her shoulders, feeling delicate bones and soft skin. She was courageous and tough, as he’d seen on the subway, but this was different. Eyes green as a forest gazed at him. The same sharp, sexual energy jumped between them like an electrical wire. He became fully aware of her slight stature, how broad and big he was compared to her. Beneath the tight sweater, her breasts were full and lush. A man could cup them in his palms, stroking his thumbs slowly over the nipples until she became flushed and aroused. Draw her close until the jagged need became consuming.

Trying to ignore her delicious scent, he roped in the tight control that enabled him to endure hours of physical pain during Hell Week. He focused on the mission. She was female, and his primal instincts were to keep her safe. No matter how many would-be human molesters she could take out with her knee.

“No. It’s too risky. This wasn’t my choice, but I agreed to this assignment. I had my doubts about working with you.”

“Because I’m a civilian?” Those mossy green eyes regarded him with frank amusement. “No prob.”

Suddenly Matt faced a tall, gangly G.I. in a mesh-covered helmet, vintage cammies and worn army boots. There was a distinct smile on the G.I.’s face as he stood straight and tall and then hefted a squeaky-clean rifle.

“Hey, there, Lieutenant Dan. Is this better?” she drawled.

Saying nothing, he gave her a pointed look. She sighed and resumed her normal form. “That wasn’t good enough for you?”

“If you’re going to conjure Tom Hanks, then Saving Private Ryan would have proved a better argument,” he said mildly.

Her pert nose wrinkled. “I don’t like war movies.”

“My point exactly.”

Sienna made an irritated sound. “What is it, Lieutenant? You don’t like females? Or civilians? Or your tighty whities are a little too tight?”

More sass. He folded his arms, waited for her to get it. He had endless patience. Once, he’d disguised himself as a wolf and spent three nights lying in a hollow log in an attempt to catch a rogue shape-shifter. Sienna tilted her head, the long fall of her mink-brown hair spilling to one side. The move gave her an exotic, sexy look. “Oh, wait. Maybe it’s because I’m Fae.”

“Score. That’s not changing. Neither is the civilian or—” he gave her legs an appreciative glance “—the female part. And you have no experience in covert ops. So I’m calling the shots.”

“Bit of a control freak, aren’t we?”

Checking his sidearm, he ignored that comment. If he were more of a control freak, maybe Adam wouldn’t have died.

“Wait.” She caught his hand. Matt stared at the slender fingers covering his. The intoxicating scent of warm female made his senses whirl. Too long since he’d felt a woman’s soft touch. Too long since he’d had a woman in his bed.

“When you go inside, I’ll stay outside, pretend to be a curious bystander, see what I can overhear.”

“No.”

Sienna dropped his hand and sighed. “Listen, we don’t like each other, but we have to work together. With all these police around, who would hurt me?”

He fought the urge to send her back to the car. His Draicon senses screamed danger. But she was right.

“You sense anything off, you come and get me. Deal?”

She knuckle-bumped him, green eyes huge in her solemn face. “Deal.”

“FYI, I don’t wear tighty whities.”

“Oh, you’re a boxer wolf? What do you wear?”

Matt dipped his head close to her shell-like ear. A few strands of silky hair lifted with his warm breath as he gently blew.

“Nothing,” he whispered.

The spice of her female scent sharpened. Matt grinned and touched her mouth, parted in a small O. “Stay alert.”

Cops lingered in the back, dusting the sliding door that led into the kitchen. Black fingerprint powder smeared the sparkling glass. He waited a moment to ensure Sienna’s glamour hiding him would hold, then slipped through the opened door.

Except for a few blood splatters on the floor that had been marked off, the kitchen was neat and clean, with polished oak cabinets, a shiny black granite countertop and dish towels with apple motifs hanging from the stainless-steel stove. Dark, malevolent magick shimmered in the air. The stench of sulfur and rotting flesh mingled with the coppery scent of blood. Matt clamped a hand over his mouth as he headed into the adjoining dining room.

A young woman sat at a long maple table, sobbing. “I didn’t do it. I swear, I loved my mother. It was El Diablo. El Diablo!”

The devil?

The front door opened. The police hustled the woman outside. Matt searched with all his senses. Nothing here, no warding spells, no candles, as if someone had erased evidence a witch lived here.