Read Wild Nights with a Lone Wolf Online
Authors: Elisabeth Staab
Tags: #FBI, #werewolf, #erotic romance, #suspense, #shifter, #paranormal romance, #paranormal, #paranormal suspense
Wild Nights with a Lone Wolf
Wild Nights with a Lone Wolf
Lone Wolf, Volume 1
Elisabeth Staab
Published by Elisabeth Staab, 2015.
Further Reading: Wicked Days with a Lone Wolf
To David Gandy: Thank you for being the sexiest motherfucker to furrow his brow in deep thought while wearing almost nothing.
Agent Sherri Walker needs a change of scenery. Her former lover nearly tanked her career, forcing her to take a leave of absence. A few drinks and a one-night stand with a sinfully hot stranger look like a great way to take her mind off her troubles, until that stranger’s past lands her in a new world of danger.
Asher Hughes left his outlaw pack but couldn’t ditch the bad blood. A lone wolf who’s always refused to bond, Ash is left wanting more after one night with a beautiful, spirited human. Worse, it puts Sherri in the crosshairs of an old pack enemy, and the only way to save her is to claim her as his own.
“L
onely” sounded good. “Betrayed” had a better ring. “Fucking pissed...?” Yes. Agent Sherri Walker could sum up her feelings about her sham of a love life and her derailed career pretty damn well using that simple, succinct phrase.
She jerked her carryon from the rental and approached the Nogales Inn and Suites, a bright oasis in the muggy evening. A lingering black mood had her grumbling into her phone with every step. “Of course I’m not harboring bad feelings. I got used, demoted, and dumped in the desert. I’m over the moon ecstatic. Fire up the glitter cannons.”
On the other end, her former partner laughed. “I’m glad to hear you’re keeping a healthy attitude.”
“I don’t know what else to say.” Sherri moved to the side of a lit awning at the hotel entrance while she finished talking. “Everything went FUBAR in ways I couldn’t have even imagined, Lisa. I don’t know how to come up with a bright side.”
“You didn’t get fired.”
Sherri nodded, more to herself than anyone else. A motorcycle rumbled nearby in the lot, aggravating her headache and dividing her focus. “You got me there.” She raised her voice so her friend could still hear.
“Or killed.”
“I wouldn’t have gotten—”
“Look at who that man was in bed with, both literally and not so literally. You know damn well the chances...”
Sherri let the lecture fade into white noise. She’d heard it before. The way things had turned out, having come out of the whole nightmare alive didn’t feel like a win. Not on a bad day, and today sure hadn’t been good.
The motorcycle rumble closed in, drowning out the conversation. One of those sleek-looking Harleys pulled up with a flame-painted gas tank and an imposing specimen of man sitting astride. The guy appeared to be easily six feet, but it was the broad build that drew her eye. When he swung his leg over the bike and removed his helmet, she noted some I’m-too-sexy-to-shave facial hair, wide lips, and eyes so deep and dark a girl could fall in and get lost.
If a girl were prone to that sort of thing.
He ran a hand through his thick hair and gave a folded up bill to the surly-looking teenager smoking by the door. “Hey. Watch the bike, would you, kid?” He paused for a beat on his way inside, offering Sherri a grin full of immaculate teeth before walking into the hotel looking for all the world as if he owned the place. For all she knew, he did.
“Sherri, honey. Are you still listening?”
No. “Sure I am.”
“You sure as hell aren’t. I can tell when you’re distracted.”
Sherri straightened against the awning post, still tracking the man as he pushed through the entry. The back of his leather jacket showed a white wolf howling against a night sky. Some business travelers must have recently flooded in, because the foyer was crowded with overdressed people in jackets and skirts. He shouldered past them like they didn’t exist. “I always listen to you. I’m just tired. And pissed. At Ryan for screwing me over and at myself for not seeing the signs.”
All those business trips. He’d never wanted to make love. His eagerness to help her organize the files in her office. It had raised a red flag, but not fast enough.
“You loved him. And you turned him in as soon as you figured it out. Anyway, I met him and I didn’t see it either. He came off as a little stony, but so do a lot of guys in the bureau. Listen, you can’t let this eat at you. You’re in Nogales to get some R&R, right? Eat too much. Do some shopping in Tuscan, or road trip to Mexico. Sleep for a week if you want. Do whatever you have to do to get your mind off of this thing with Ryan. This new assignment in Phoenix could be a good change of scenery. Have you checked in with the field office?”
Sherri turned away from the hotel door, rubbing first the lingering ache in her chest, and then at the throb in her temple. “If we can set aside the fact that I wouldn’t be in Arizona at all if Ryan hadn’t screwed me over, then yes. I’m doing my best to look at this leave of absence as a chance for a clear head and some leisurely relaxation. And no, I haven’t talked to anyone. I got the name and phone number for my new supervisor. I called and got voicemail. From the message he sounds like one of those nasally pencil-pusher types. Probably a real straight arrow.”
She might welcome the structure of working for someone who embraced rules and regulations, if she weren’t certain that person would be peering over her shoulder every second. After her epic failure in DC, everything would be scrutinized.
“I’m sure you’ll get along great with everyone after you settle in.” Lisa’s tone softened. “I really hope the time off helps.”
“You and me both. If two weeks’ vacation doesn’t clear my head, I’m going to have to take up recreational drinking or get myself a quality sniper rifle.” Sherri frowned as a shuttle bus pulled up to the curb. “Hey, I better go. It looks like a large group is about to check in.”
“Good luck, lady.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
She hung up and headed in through the throng of men in tailored suits and women in pencil skirts, curious about the direction of the tower of muscles on the Harley. He’d disappeared out of sight though, and that was a disappointment. Truly, she had no business wondering.
Sherri summoned her flagging energy and marched up to the marble-topped check-in desk. “Hi there. I need to check in, and then I need you to point me in the direction of the bar. Please.” Sadly, she’d been so buried lately that she’d turned into a cheap date. Still, relaxing with a glass of wine sounded amazing.
The clerk, a perky and blond-ponytailed young lady, flashed a smile. “No problem, ma’am. Rough night?”
Try a rough six months. I helped send my ex to prison. My flight was delayed, my checked luggage is somewhere in Mexico, and my head is killing me
. She smiled at the effusive clerk. “I could definitely use a drink.”
“Well, we will get you squared away in a jiff.”
Sherri, always the girl with her head down, couldn’t remember ever being so perky. She shrugged and slapped her credit card on the counter. What she really wanted was an entirely new reality. In lieu of the impossible, she’d settle for some overpriced zinfandel and then a comfortable bed.
***
A
sher Hughes gripped his half brother by the shirt-front. He smiled flatly, sniffing and scanning his former packmate. “It’s like this, Jojo: I don’t want to hear about you coming within pissing distance of one of my girls again. I don’t want you to look at them. I don’t want you breathing their air. If I hear you’re trying to poach for your illicit little escort gig again, I’ll rip you apart with my own claws. I won’t think twice about pack protection.”
Jojo held up his hands, his neck exposed in a gesture of surrender that Ash wouldn’t buy for all the cacti in the desert. “Come on, Ash. I’m only tryin’ to help earn these girls some extra cash. You afraid I’ll shut down your business? Think they’ll like working for me better?”
Ash jerked his arm, pulling Jojo halfway across the bar. A stack of shot glasses clinked and scattered. He looked around, but folks mostly knew to mind their own business.
Nobody moved except the refined lady with the pants and blouse, sitting across the room. She stood, hand going to her back. Musta been carrying.
No need to stir up trouble. Asher smiled at the woman and released his grip, giving her a nod when she finally eased—slow and wary—back into her chair. No doubt she’d keep on watching. Fine by him.
The lady had a not-from-around-here look. Fresh-faced with dark hair, pale skin, and the kind of tight body he sure wouldn’t mind seeing more of. Her pouty lips parted, and her chest moved with shallow breaths like she was waiting to see what he might do next. Even from across the room he could make out the twitch of her hand and the flush of pink that swept up her neck. Ash was content to let her look all she liked. He was also content to look back.
He turned to Jojo with hands on hips, holding his jacket open to remind his idiot half sibling that the pretty woman nursing the zinfandel wasn’t the only one carrying. “Remember the deal, Jojo. I stay out of your business. You stay out of mine. You break the deal again, I’ll be forced to break your face.” He lifted his lip in a sneer. “You do not want me all up in your business. Comprendes?”
“Yeah. I got you.” Jojo didn’t sound sure—he sounded nervous. That worked well enough. Ash didn’t trust the little runt any further than the current distance between them, but he’d given sporting warning. Next time, he’d kick the fucker’s ass to Canada. Blood or no blood.
“Good.” Asher gave the bar a wallop with the side of his fist. “Now. Get me two glasses of Black Label,” he said with a smile. “And I assume those’ll be on the house.”
***
S
herri pretended not to watch as the Harley-riding troublemaker swaggered over. She studied his reflection in the darkened window while he took sure, quick strides. Right. Toward. Her.
Dammit, if she’d screwed her time off by reacting to that fight, she’d be forced to give further thought to that recreational drinking plan. Stupid habit. She wasn’t even carrying her gun.
Two glasses landed on the table in front of her.
“I’m sure I did not order those,” she said.
“I’m sure I did.” He dropped into the seat across from her, taking up the entirety of the overstuffed chair. He put a hand over the base of her wine glass and slid it off to the side of the low table between them. “My way of apologizing for causing a stir.”
“Funny thing, nobody in here stirred except me. I wonder why?”
“The folks are laid-back around here.”
She looked him over. He smiled easily, seductively, as relaxed and confident now as when he’d clutched that other man’s shirt in his fingers. Eyes that appeared coal-dark outside now glowed like warm amber, glittering under the bar lights. Blunt nails and roughed-up hands suggested manual labor, but his fingers looked long and elegant. The kaleidoscope-color tattoos of a skeleton wearing a wolf pelt and the bold text that decorated his forearms suggested— “Oh, hell.”
Pack emblems. She’d attended a seminar on them before leaving DC. “You’re a werewolf.” They’d made their existence known over the past couple of decades, small gangs of them living along the Mexico border. Further north, some still didn’t believe in their existence, but their penchant toward violent behavior had landed more than one on the government’s watch list.
The words
Los Lobos Muertos
twisted around each tattoo. His pack name. Must be.
He leaned forward, and Sherri tried to determine if he only
looked
predatory. Slowly, his tongue slipped out, running across his lip. His strong nose and full mouth held her curiosity far more than it should. The FBI’s three-hour training lecture had given her some interesting information about the werewolves and their pack behavior, but she hadn’t anticipated seeing one up close. Certainly not this way. Not one with such a charismatic smile.
Frankly, he didn’t give off quite the Hell on wheels vibe she’d been briefed to expect.
He raised a tumbler in each hand. “I feel as if we’re getting off on the wrong foot. That ink you’re eyeballing is from another lifetime. I’m a respectable business owner. I’m also unaffiliated. Lone wolf status. Whatever bad element you might be envisioning, that’s not me.
“That bartender over there is a former associate. We had a minor disagreement. Bad blood between werewolves dies hard, I’m afraid. Even without a pack, we can’t help getting territorial.”