Sadie Hart (25 page)

“Not a chance.” Her hand fisted in his shirt,
and with a yank, she dragged him down onto the bed, stretching
herself over him. Her hands slid under his shirt, and Caine leaned
up, tugging it off over his head.

“Do I have to beg?”

She grinned. “Would be a good place to
start.”

She rolled off him, her hands going to her
jeans. The zipper whirred, and Caine watched as she peeled them
down. Ollie paused, a half smile on her face. “You know what else
would be a start? Chucking the rest of your clothes, Mr. Wolf.”

Caine was on his feet, and within seconds
he’d stripped off his jeans, leaving himself in nothing but
boxer-briefs and socks. He’d barely managed shuck them off when he
turned to see Ollie standing nude before him. His throat went dry,
the pound of his heart enough to make a man dizzy. Christ, but he’d
never tire of looking at her.

“You know,” Ollie said, stepping closer.
“That look in your eye goes a long way towards earning my complete
forgiveness.”

God, he hoped so. He raked his gaze over
every inch of her, reaching out to cup the weight of one breast. It
filled his hand, and he slid his other one around the curved swell
of her hip. His groin tightened as her hips bumped his, and Caine
started to push her back against the bed when she laughed, one hand
finding his chest, spearing through the curls of his chest hair.
“Oh no. I think you’ve done enough leading tonight, don’t you?”

She ran her hand over his chest and up to his
shoulder, touching the fresh, pink, puckered scar. Turning, she
spun him towards the bed, and Caine willingly collapsed on the
mattress. “Have your way with me, then.”

He loved the smug twist of her lips, the
cat-eating-canary grin on her face. “Oh, I will.”

Ollie picked up his jeans, filched out a
condom. Rolled it on him. Caine groaned at the soft touch of her
lips against his stomach, then lower. Shit. His hands fisted in the
sheets as he watched her, teeth bared, with a hiss of breath
escaping him.

“Oh, sure, take your time.”

Ollie slid up, her hips straddling him as she
guided herself onto him. With her warm heat finally enveloping him,
Caine gasped, thrusting up, loving the little whimper that slid out
of her. He let her set the pace, her body arching, riding his, and
he cupped her breasts, ran his thumbs over the peaked nipples. He
could get off on just watching them sway with every rolling thrust
of her hips.

In the dim light of her room her eyes found
his, steel on near-black, and held.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Her hands fisted
against his chest, and Caine slid his hands down the curve of her
sides to grab her hips, guiding her faster, harder. Her lips
parted, but her eyes still held his, brimming with emotion. Fear,
guilt, desperation, they ping-ponged through her eyes, and he made
sure he didn’t look away. Not as they drove each other closer to
the edge.

Pleasure rocketed between them, a blazing
heat that had him driving deeper. “I won’t.”

His hands tightened on her hips, and she
shattered, the orgasm slamming through her, and Caine let himself
go then, driving himself over the edge as she quivered above him.
Only when they were both done did he draw her down against him,
rolling them over as she lay in his arms, his cock still buried
deep inside her. He nuzzled into her hair, the spiraling black
strands silky against his face.

Running his hand down her back, he smiled as
she cuddled closer. “From here on out, it’s your call. You’re in
charge, Ol.” He laid a kiss against her temple. “But I have your
back.”

He’d help her in every way he could, but he
wasn’t about to get in her way. Not this time.

“I trust you. No more playing hero.”

And oddly, the alpha in him didn’t object.
Not as her hand wrapped in his hair, and he felt her small smile
against his neck. “It’s about time you met your match, Mr.
Wolf.”

He laughed, a rich, low sound in the room. A
soft echo of what vibrated between them.

Yeah, it was.

Chapter Nineteen

Bosley
plopped down at his feet, the golden’s head resting against the
side of his leg as the dog stared out across the field with him.
Dean reached down to run a hand through the dog’s fur, his fingers
trembling. The Sanctuary Falls alpha had given one hell of a chase,
but he was just as stupid as the rest of them. A laugh rumbled out
of him then. Lucky he hadn’t been packing silver, otherwise that
wound would have given Caine Morgan more than just a scratch.

It was Holly that bugged him, though. She was
still thinking too much. Not acting blindly out of fear or revenge,
still calculating everything. Still thinking she knew him. The
muscle in his jaw flicked as his teeth ground together. She’d moved
her grandmother, so obviously he’d scared her then, but the old
woman wouldn’t have been much of a hunt.

Boring.

A woman whimpered from inside the house and
he sighed. Nor would this one. She just lay there now, the will to
fight already gone. Stupid bitch. He doubted she’d run at all, at
least until he started hurting the little girl, but neither
prospect sounded very entertaining. Bosley’s tail thumped the
floor, and he turned to see the dog eyeing an old, ratty tennis
ball.

Fun. That’s what he wanted. A good hunt. One
that made him think. Made him work for it. The wolfhound would be
all of that. He toyed with the idea of her running through the
woods, the memory of her getting the best of him, snatching his
gun. His blood pumped faster, heating with excitement. His jeans
grew tight.

But he needed to give her a reason to run.
She didn’t scare easily, didn’t turn that brain of hers off long
enough for the terror to eat at her bones. His tongue touched his
lips, brows furrowed. Remembered the panicked barks, the way she’d
hashed it out with the Sanctuary Falls alpha. Lecturing him. Dean
smiled, remembering the sweet taste of her fear on the wind.

That had at least scared her. The thought of
losing him.

Dean glanced back at the house, heard
Danielle Carson’s pathetic sniffling, and a low, pleased sound
started low in his gut, rumbled up through his throat. The woman
was useless to him. Both her and the child. They’d hardly give him
a good run.

But Holly Lawrence, if he gave her something
to fight for, protect, and she might just run for him. Might give
him exactly what he needed.

***

Ollie woke enveloped in Caine’s arms, the
sheet tangled between them, and she smiled, cuddling back into the
pillow. It was still dark outside, the filmy gray light of morning
barely starting to poke through the sheer curtains, and she glanced
at the clock. Barely after five. She had a few minutes before her
alarm would start buzzing, before she had to face the day.

One last shot to catch this bastard. After
tonight, he’d have another victim. Again.

She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the
crack of the gun last night, Caine’s foolish chase. She’d thought
she’d lost him. Careful not to wake him, she slipped out from under
his arm and headed for the bathroom. She showered quickly. The
fresh pine of Brandt’s aftershave told her he’d come home sometime
during the night, and, sure enough, she padded into the kitchen to
find her brother at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of
him.

Brandt glanced up and she caught the amused
glint in his eyes. “Where’s Caine?”

“Bed.” She grabbed a bowl and poured herself
some breakfast. “Any news?”

“Lennox just called. Your resident genius got
a hit off that partial plate. I don’t even want to know how long
she’s been up.”

He cut her a glance, and Holly winced. She
knew the Hound who found it, knew that the woman had probably
pulled an all-nighter. His phone buzzed and he answered, his mouth
flattening before he jerked to a stand, suddenly grim. “Text me the
information and the address. Pass it to Ollie, too. We’re on our
way. I’ll call Lennox for a pack. Thanks.”

Heart pounding, Ollie followed Brandt for the
door. “Is it a definite hit?”

“Man’s driver’s license picture matches your
sketch. Registered to a Dean Winters, lives up in Brooksdale.”

Ten miles north of Sanctuary Falls.

“Lives in the goddamn boonies. He’s currently
working at the auto factory up there. She said if it weren’t for
the sketch, she’d have passed him over. He’s got none of the
telltale signs. No priors, clean record, no history of animal
abuse. Hell, he used to train dogs for a living. Seems to like
them.”

“He’s a wolf-shifter though, right?”

Ollie dug out her phone, intending to call
Caine and apologize. The last thing she meant to do was leave him
in bed, but this couldn’t wait. She needed to be there. Needed to
know for sure.

Brandt shook his head. “Not registered. There
are a few that still slip through the cracks.”

True, though it was getting harder and harder
to be an unregistered shifter these days. Ollie clenched her hand
around her phone, but she couldn’t stop the trembling in her
fingers. They might actually have him. Caine’s phone rang on the
other end just as Brandt’s buzzed. He swiped a finger over the
touch screen then turned it to her.

“He does look like the man in your
sketch.”

Her heart caught as she saw the familiar
face, the dimple blurred from the cruddy driver’s license picture,
his hair was darker, longer around the edges. “It’s him,” she
whispered.

Dean Winters.

Finally, a name to put with that bastard’s
face.

“We also might have his first kill.” Brandt
passed her his phone.

Irene Winters. She’d gone missing, no one had
ever heard from her since. It would have been easy to guess the
Hunter had killed his own mother. She might have even been the
trigger that started him.

Caine finally answered, and she handed Brandt
back his phone. For the first time in a long time, she felt
relieved. Lucky. Like they had a chance.

“Ol?” Caine’s sleep-fogged voice came over
the phone and tension eased in her shoulders. Amazing how one word,
a half muddled mutation of her name, and he managed to help calm
her.

Her heart tightened. She loved the way he
sounded in the morning, all grumpy with his brain not all the way
online yet. A rueful smile curved her lips. “We got a hit on the
plate you got from Raj.”

Caine grunted, the bed creaking under his
weight, and she knew he was rolling to get a look at the time.
“You’re already at work?”

“One of our Hounds pulled an all-nighter.
Called Brandt this morning.”

“And you couldn’t have waked me?”

“You’re not a Hound, Caine. We have a pack
coming in for backup. Go home to your pack. I’ll be fine.” Trust
me.

She bit her lip to keep the words from
spilling out along with all the rest of them. “I’ll let you know if
it’s him,” she said, soft.

Caine blew out a long sigh. “This is
punishment for going after him last night, isn’t it?”

Brandt twisted to look at her, but she waved
him off. “This is simply because this is Enforcement business. You
were brought in as a consultant, to give you a better shot at
protecting your pack. We can’t have civilians on a bust.”

Silence filled the air between them, and
Ollie had to fight herself to keep from saying more, to keep
filling the empty space. He’d promised it was her lead now. And she
couldn’t afford to worry about him. If the Hunter, no, Dean
Winters, managed to slip from their grasp, she didn’t need Caine
there. She needed him home, protecting his pack members.

Because if they stopped him from killing the
Carsons, he’d need another victim tonight.

“I need you with your pack. Doing your
job.”

“I know.” His belt jingled, and she smiled.
“I just don’t have to like it. Christ, but be safe. I’m crazy as
hell about you.”

Her heart gave another painful twist. “My, my
Mr. Wolf, you have such a way with words.”

“Yeah.” A grunt. “I’m going home; it’s your
lead, love. But don’t scare me worse than I scared you last
night.”

“Thank you.” She hung up the phone and leaned
her head back against the seat, ignoring her brother’s ostentatious
cough.

“Ol?”

“Had a run in with the Hunter last night.
Someone decided to try and play big, bad alpha and got himself
shot.”

“And yet you still managed to boink him.”

She cut her brother a glare and he laughed.
“Just saying. You two sound serious.”

More serious than she knew what to do with.
She had enough people worrying about whether or not she came home
in a body bag, she’d never meant to add one more. Especially not
one who’d hate himself for listening to her, for trusting her.
Caine would eat himself alive with guilt.

Brandt turned off the highway, nothing but
cornfields, the occasional scattering of trees, and distant
mountains out the windows. They arrived in silence, the small log
cabin looking homey. A rustic, man’s lodge type of house. But the
moment her foot touched the gravel of his driveway and the blast of
wind touched her nose, she knew.

“It’s him.” Far more certain than she’d been
staring at a picture, she knew. And even more, she could smell the
Carsons here. Their scent was still strong enough that it lingered
around the house.

The Enforcement SWAT team moved in, and Ollie
strapped on her vest, readied her weapon and waited. A man appeared
in the door a few seconds later, waving them in. “All clear.”

A smile twitched his lips under the clear
face mask. “Mostly. Got a dog, all bark, though.”

A golden retriever appeared in the hall,
rust-red tail wagging as he loped around the crew, woo-wooing at
them all. He gave a few gruff barks as someone reached to touch
him, uncertain and watchful, but for the most part, the dog seemed
curious about the company.