Robin Bielman: Veiled Target

“So go now. I can handle things here. There’s nothing scheduled the next few days I can’t take care of on my own.” Gavin crossed his arms and looked at Hugh with a smirk and gleam in his eye that said, “I dare you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah. We both know what that means.” He shifted in his seat as doubt crossed his face. “So those animal instincts of yours worked again, huh? Damn. I wish I knew how you did it.”

Sometimes I wish I could tell you. “It’s the wolf in me,” he offered, the truth right there, yet hidden.

“I thought you looked a little scruffier lately.” Gavin put a hand on his own unshaven jaw line. “Seriously, though, if you want to leave sooner for Canada, just say the word.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Hugh’s cell phone rang, the number on the display warranting privacy. “I’ve got to grab this. You mind?”

Gavin stood and headed out of the office. “Now that you’re back, I’m going home. See you tomorrow.”

Hugh brought the cell to his ear, a low growl escaping his mouth. Running Langston Aviation was only one of his jobs. He led his pack 24/7. “What’s up?”

“Hugh, it’s Dane. Sorry to bother you so late, but it’s important.”

“I’m listening.” So well in fact, that he could decipher the bar Dane was sitting in from the sound of the bartender’s raspy voice in the background.

“Trey was supposed to meet a few of us a couple hours ago and never showed up. He also failed to make an appearance earlier today for the meeting you left him in charge of.”

Hugh ran a hand through his hair, remembering yesterday’s conversation with Trey. Indications he was in trouble or shirking his duties hadn’t been present while they’d shared a beer. The kid took his apprenticeship seriously.

There had to be an explanation. “No one’s heard a word?” he asked.

“No. But there have been rumblings of the Wolf Seekers stirring up trouble again. They’re blaming us for another casualty we had nothing to do with.”

He knew that. So did Trey. Maybe he went snooping around on his own. Which meant he could be in trouble. Shit. Hugh never doubted his decision to appoint Trey second in command with the goal that he would eventually take over. Still, the young, energetic wolfen didn’t always make the smartest decisions.

“I agree something must be up then, but Trey can take care of himself. Let me know of any new developments.”

“Sure. If you want, I can take over his duties for the time being.” He sounded a little too eager for Hugh’s liking. No one took over for Trey.

“Not necessary. Goodnight.”

Hugh threw his phone onto the desk, where it landed with a thud. Trey could take care of himself. He had control over his shifting, had superior senses and instincts. His intelligence didn’t always dictate his actions, but as long as there wasn’t a leggy brunette giving him the eye, he’d be fine.

So much for an early escape. No way in hell could he leave town now. Not until he knew Trey was safe. And in charge of the Night Runners.

Something big was brewing. Hugh could feel it. The Wolf Seekers were less cautious than normal, more intimidating. Secrecy no longer seemed important, and that could mean trouble for humans as well as Veilers.

He fisted his hands. There was no possible way a Night Runner had committed an act against a Seeker without his knowledge. Nothing happened without his approval. Regardless of the Wolf Seekers’ agenda, Hugh didn’t order harm unless absolutely necessary.

Which meant there might be a third party involved. Was Trey digging into something on his own? Hoping to prove his value without any guidance? Hell. If anything happened to the young shifter, Hugh would never forgive himself. He hadn’t saved his older brother and he’d be damned if he let harm come to Trey.

He pushed up from his chair and paced back and forth, his steps leaving footprints in the Persian rug. Trey had mentioned a woman’s name—a blind date tomorrow night. Hugh had tuned out of the conversation when talk turned to women, but now he wanted to kick himself. Maybe she knew something.

If Trey didn’t turn up, Hugh would meet her instead. He’d follow every lead, no matter how small or insignificant. If only he could remember her goddamn name. Tina…Tracy…Tess.

Her name was Tess.

Tess wished she were back at Angeles National Park, bungee jumping off the Bridge to Nowhere. The adrenaline rush from four jumps earlier in the day had worn off—the mind-freeing high had disappeared. And now she was confronted with this.

“I can’t believe you set me up on a blind date without asking.” Tess looked herself up and down in the full-length bedroom mirror, not sure Kensie’s recommendation to wear a skimpy dress was a good idea. She wasn’t shy about her body, but would be much more comfortable in jeans.

“You look hot,” Francesca said, entering the bedroom holding three bottles of beer. She handed one to Kensie and then Tess.

Easy for her to say. At five foot eight with perfect curves and wavy auburn hair, Francesca oozed hotness.

“I was just thinking about changing into—”

“I’d like to make a toast.” Francesca raised her bottle. “To Tess. May this date be the first of many.”

“Hear, hear,” Kensie seconded, clinking her bottle against the others. Her lilting Aussie accent made Tess smile and she resigned herself to being anxious.

Still, she drank down the twelve ounces without taking a breath. When finished, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “How about another?”

Francesca pointed at her with a disapproving look, a tsk-tsk smirk crossing her know-it-all face. “Don’t do that on your date, Miss Manners. A guy doesn’t want a drinking buddy, he wants a lady.”

Kensie took Tess’s empty bottle and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried. I’m thirsty.”

“Jason’s been gone for five years,” Kensie continued. “It’s time you tested the waters again.”

A lump the size of a potato grew in her throat, but she tried to hide it. “I’ve been out with plenty of guys.”

“To jump off cliffs with, not date. Those are two entirely different things and you know it.” Kensie had her there.

“Thanks to you two, I don’t have much choice, do I?” She looked at her two closest friends in the world—her family—and her stiff posture slackened. Slightly. One wrong move and the dress might do something she didn’t want it to.

“You’ll thank us later,” Francesca said. “Trey is sexy as hell, smart and he’s got a wicked sense of humor.”

He sounds too good to be true , she thought, her body perking up at the description. Bad body. “So why aren’t you dating him?”

“He’s our bar buddy. We couldn’t date a mate,” Kensie said.

“Plus he’s pretty busy himself. We had to coax him into going out with you.” Francesca winced as soon as the words left her mouth. “I think I hear the phone ringing.”

Tess caught her arm before she could move away. “Hold on there, pal. I’m meeting a guy who doesn’t want to meet me? That’s great. Now I’m a charity case. Did you describe me as eloquently as you did him?”

“Of course,” Kensie answered, putting her arms around their shoulders and steering them to the side of the bed. Their butts landed on the faded cream-colored down comforter. “And it wasn’t at all difficult to persuade him after we sang your praises.”

“He needs to blow off some steam. You need to blow off some steam. We thought the two of you might enjoy doing it together,” Francesca said.

Tess wouldn’t admit it out loud, but going on a date after so long did hold some appeal. She missed being intimate with someone. Missed having a warm body to cuddle up to. Missed kissing. She’d thrown herself into extreme sports after Jason’s death to numb the pain, to leave her little time for thinking or feeling, to distract her from the heartache. But now loneliness crept into her psyche, reminding her she was alone. And more and more, she feared she wouldn’t be able to keep her promise to him. After five years of secretly investigating, she doubted she’d find his killer.