Melindas Wolves (23 page)

“Long enough.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It is,” he said, knowing full well how complicated this situation was. It wasn’t as if he could announce to everyone he worked with that he shared Melinda with another man.

Mark’s face went slack. “Really? Awesome. I’ve always thought you were kind of a loner. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Trace mumbled. He took a seat at his desk and opened the file, anxious for Mark to get the hell out of the room so Trace could bring his blood pressure under control. He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his fist on the desktop.

Melinda jerked her gaze to his, a frown on her face. She gave a subtle shake of her head.
“Do you trust me?”
she asked through their connection from across the room.

He flinched. What the hell kind of question was that?
“Of course.”

“Then put your claws away, and don’t let that guy get to you, whoever he is. We covered
this ground this morning. I’m yours. It’s established. Doesn’t matter what your coworkers or
anyone else think. They don’t stand a chance with me.”

She was right. But Trace still felt combative.
“He undressed you with his gaze and
drooled over you from across the room. I’m surprised you didn’t get hit by the spittle from
there.”

She smiled, shook her head, rolled her eyes, and turned back to say something to Terrance. And then she came straight toward Trace, her smile too big, her eyes too bright. When she reached his side, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “He can look all he wants. He can pretend to know what’s under my dress too. But his hands will never be on my bare skin in this lifetime or the next. Yours will. And furthermore, you have the added benefit of knowing that no man’s hands have ever been on me. There will never be anyone anywhere that will cause you to wonder if he’s slept with me or so much as touched me. Put your claws away.” She finished by kissing his ear and stepping back to sit in a chair next to his desk.

Trace’s cock was at attention from her lips so close to him—the words she’d spoken making him almost moan. And she smelled so fucking fantastic, like the fruity soap she’d used in the shower and the shampoo that matched the body soap.

She was right. He was a lucky bastard and he needed to get his head on straight.

Let the other guys look. That was all they would ever get out of it. He lifted his gaze to scan the room. Sure enough, several eyes were on his mate.
His
mate. Not theirs. His frown turned into a smirk. No one in this room had ever had the opportunity to see his mate naked or touch her sweet nipples or clit. And they never would.

Mine
.

“And mine.”
Keegan chuckled into his head.
“Problems? I can feel you as if you’re in the
room with me. You gonna hit someone?”

“Nope. I thought about it, but our mate talked me down. Do you know how fucking sexy she
is?”

Keegan chuckled into his head.
“I’m aware.”

“Everyone in the building is staring at her as if she were fresh meat.”

“Yeah, I experienced a little of that yesterday. Ignore them. They don’t get to slide into her
tonight.”

Trace was shocked.
“How many of the men you work with are humans?”

“About half.”

That explained it. The shifters would give a passing glance of approval, but only rarely more than that. They knew the stakes. They understood how Fate worked.

Melinda was claimed. No sense wasting time drooling over her.

And besides, the way pheromones worked within the shifter community, no other wolf would find Melinda as attractive as he and Keegan did. It was the way of shifters.

Fate organized it perfectly.

Humans, however, were a different story. They couldn’t scent the bond between wolf mates. They had no idea how very taken Melinda was. They could be annoying at times, but it wouldn’t change anything.

Trace turned to look at Melinda. She was glowing. Her cheeks were pink. She had a twinkle in her eyes. And the smile on her lips never quite went away.

I did that to her
.

“I may have helped,”
Keegan interjected.
“Gotta get back to work.”

“Any more news about that email?”

“Not yet. But the more I dig, the more it gets validated. This morning the shit has hit the
fan. My boss is here. We’re digging into things.”

“You have time to talk?”
Trace wanted to chat out loud for a minute. This was serious.

“Only a few minutes.”

Trace grabbed his cell and called Keegan.

He picked up on the first ring. “Hey.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It is. It doesn’t look good. The foundation may have to be scrapped and re-poured.

The concrete was subpar, even by last year’s standards before the quake. Now, it’s total rubbish. And I’m worried about who knows this and what their MO is. If the developer is aware of the corners that were cut, we may be in over our heads.”

Trace leaned back in his chair. He could feel Melinda inching closer to him from behind until her hand landed on his shoulder. He twisted his neck to look at her as he spoke to Keegan. “Somebody’s going to get in a heap of trouble. Perhaps several people.” He didn’t want to say any more out loud in the middle of the precinct, so he held the phone to his ear while he spoke into Keegan’s head.
“If the developer is in on this
shit storm, you’re in a fuck of a mess there. Have you called the sheriff’s office on the rez?”

“Not yet. But we’re getting close. Right now, all we have is an email from an unknown source. Mitch is trying to locate the original inspector, and then we’re calling everyone in who worked on the site, but it’s going to take some time. It’s been a year.

Some of the original construction workers are no longer living in the area. When the project was put on hold, they were forced to seek new jobs, often in other towns.”

“What a disaster.”

“Yeah. Thank God my job is to make sure the work is done right from here on out.

Glad I’m not on the legal end of things. Somebody’s going to be forced to fork up some big bucks to make this right.”

“Be careful. You could be venturing into dangerous territory. If anyone suspects halting or backtracking the progress of that construction is your fault, they could retaliate. I wouldn’t let it get out that you’re investigating this yet.” He chose his words carefully since Melinda was listening.

She inhaled sharply anyway, her fingers digging into his shoulder.

Chief Bergman headed toward Trace.

“Gotta go. Let me know how things are going later.” He would talk more with Keegan about safety when Melinda wasn’t listening.

“’K.” Keegan disconnected.

Trace lifted his gaze to Bergman’s. The man’s face was grim. “I need you to do some research on this guy.” Bergman handed him a Post-it.

Trace nodded and tugged his laptop closer. “Anything particular I’m looking for?”

Bergman glanced at Melinda before he continued in a lower voice. “Some kids on the reservation found his body beside the lake this morning.”

Trace felt Melinda stiffen before she gasped.

Bergman lifted his gaze to Melinda. “Sorry to be so blunt.” He turned back to Trace.

“He’s Caucasian. And human,” his boss added in a soft whisper before he continued.

“The deputies on the rez are on the scene. I’m sending a few guys over now.”

“How did we get involved?” Trace asked.

“The address on his driver’s license is in Cambridge. The sheriff on the reservation called me this morning. He’s sending a man here. I’m sending two of ours to the scene.”

“How awful,” Melinda muttered.

Trace agreed. Cambridge and Sojourn were both small towns. They were forty minutes apart, but there wasn’t a whole lot in between them. It was rare for any significant crime to occur. It had been several years since anyone had been murdered in either town.

“I’ll see what I can find out.” Trace grabbed his mouse and began his search. And it didn’t take long for him to sit up straight and pay closer attention.

Nolan Friedmont. The guy seemed ordinary enough. Until Trace dug deeper. He lived in Cambridge in a ski-side cabin that was more of an estate than anything else.

He’d purchased the property ten months ago, which was all well and good except he didn’t make enough money to afford such a home.

What really made Trace pay closer attention was the man had been a construction worker at the very casino now under investigation for cutting corners. He hadn’t worked since the earthquake, and yet he’d continued to make the enormous payments on his mortgage—a mortgage he couldn’t possibly have afforded in the first place with his income. Even though he’d been one of the head honchos under the foreman in charge at the site, he hadn’t made nearly enough money to cover that mansion.

At least not over the table.

Fuck
.

Trace glanced at Melinda. He’d hovered over his computer for so long, he’d managed to stuff her presence to the back of his mind. Impressive. And the look on her face told him she was amused by his ability to ignore her.

She held her bottom lip between her teeth, a grin spreading her cheeks wide. Her eyes twinkled with mirth. “Must be fascinating research,” she teased. Her legs were tucked under her, and she held a Kindle in her hand.

Good. At least she hadn’t been reading over his shoulder. If she had, she wouldn’t be so calm.

“You can’t imagine,” he mumbled, shutting down his computer and grabbing a stack of pages from the printer under his desk. He’d printed out a large stack throughout the afternoon. He glanced at his watch and winced. “We should go home.”

Trace glanced around the room. His boss was already gone for the day. Besides, Trace really wanted to talk to Keegan before he spoke to Bergman. There was no longer any doubt in Trace’s mind that as soon as he got someone to go over and search the computer in Nolan Friedmont’s home, he’d find a recent email sent to the one and only Keegan Phillips.

The idea made his skin crawl. If someone killed Friedmont because he ratted out the developer, Keegan’s life was in more danger than Trace had alluded earlier.

 •●• 

It was after dark before Melinda parked in Keegan’s driveway behind Trace. She watched Trace climb down from his black truck in front of her.

She had no idea what propelled her to stay at the station so long with Trace. At any point she could have insisted she needed to go home. But he’d been so tense and intent she hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Plus, she got the vibe he might need her calming presence at his back as he worked.

She wondered if he always got so stressed and focused or if the research over that particular man found dead earlier in the day made him inordinately tense.

Keegan’s immaculate white truck was already in the driveway, and he opened the front door to greet them as Melinda climbed the two steps to the porch.

Keegan immediately pulled her into his embrace and buried his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply, his hand cupping her ass. “Missed you.”

She lifted her chin for a quick kiss.

“Did you miss
me
too?” Trace asked, chuckling.

“Eh. Not as much.”

Trace gave Keegan a shove as they entered the house.

Melinda moaned. “God, it smells good in here. What are you cooking? I’m starving.” She hadn’t eaten since the sandwiches Trace ordered for lunch.

After the most boring day of her life, she needed food and sleep. Doing nothing made a person very tired.

She also needed to let these brutes know her days of trailing them around were over. She intended to go back to work tomorrow whether they liked it or not.

“Stir fry.” Keegan tugged her into the kitchen by the hand while he spoke to Trace.

“What happened to you today? You were in such deep concentration I couldn’t get a single read on you.” He released her to grab a spatula and push around the contents of a steaming wok.

She almost moaned at the beauty of his cooking.

Melinda didn’t know what Trace had been so deeply engrossed in all day either.

Trace hadn’t shared. She suspected his attention was focused on the dead guy found by the lake, but he also could have changed his focus to another case at some point. She had no idea.

She had been beyond curious all day, but no way in hell would she have interrupted Trace’s intense concentration. Thank God for her Kindle.

Trace washed his hands at the kitchen sink and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He offered it to Melinda with a lift of his eyebrows, but when she shook her head, he twisted off the top and slumped into one of the dining chairs. He seemed to be gearing up. Stalling. Finally, he spoke. “A body was found this morning not far from your construction site.”

“Shit.” Keegan stopped moving and swiveled to face Trace. “Seriously?”

“Nolan Friedmont. And yes. I found out a lot about him.”

Keegan set down his spatula and padded toward Trace. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”

“You aren’t. I think he may have sent your anonymous email.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. That was my reaction.” Trace took a long swig from his bottle. “I don’t have any proof yet. It’s a hunch. He worked under the foreman on the casino site for several months before the earthquake. We’re waiting for some guys to get into his computer and check his outgoing email.”

“Shit. That’s fucking serious. If someone killed him for ratting out the shoddy construction on the casino, we’ve got a huge problem on our hands.”

“You’ve got a huge problem on your hands no matter what,” Melinda interrupted, her blood boiling with fear. “I told you yesterday I had a bad feeling about that place.”

She shivered just thinking about it. “The site gave me the creeps. Bad things have happened there. And more is coming.” They needed to listen to her.

Keegan turned off the burner and carried the wok to the center of the table. “I hate to admit this, but you may be right.”

She stiffened and crossed her arms under her chest. “Why is it so hard for you to believe I might have some precognitive abilities?” It infuriated her that she had to keep explaining herself to these two, especially Keegan. And she suspected his job was no longer safe, which made her even more frustrated and downright angry. He needed to heed her advice before he got himself killed.