To Love a Wolf Read online

  Landry grunted as he rammed his cock into her one last time and held it there as he poured himself into her. His body bucked and spasmed, and she knew in her heart that she was bringing him pleasure to match her own. And with Landry, knowing she was making him feel good too was the most important thing in the world.

  God, she loved him. Not just for the pleasure he could bring her, but for reasons that were too big for her to understand. All she knew was that they were supposed to be with each other like this, locked together at the heart—forever.

  Afterward, Everly should have wanted to do nothing more than cuddle up to Landry for some well-deserved sleep. She’d barely gotten any sleep last night, and even though she grabbed a quick nap this morning after Landry had left, she was still tired. The funny thing was, right then she didn’t feel like sleeping at all. In fact, she felt crazy alive, like her whole body and mind was buzzing with excitement. She knew she was never going to fall asleep.

  Well, they could always make love some more. Gauging the look on Landry’s face, this wouldn’t be a problem for him. Or she could spend a few hours doing something else she loved, something amazingly creative.

  She was up and out of the bed the second the idea entered her head. Grabbing Landry’s hand, she dragged him out of bed, pulling him toward the door.

  “Where are we going?” he asked with a laugh.

  He didn’t resist, but instead, let her pull him down the hall and across the living room toward her art studio.

  “I want to sketch you,” she said as she led him into the room and turned on the lights.

  She’d chosen this room as her studio because it had great natural light, but now that the sun was down, she would have to make do with artificial light instead. That was okay. Landry had such a spectacular body, he’d look good in any light.

  Now that the urge to draw him was on her, it was like she couldn’t get started fast enough. She threw a big canvas drop cloth in the center of the hardwood floor, both to give him something to lay on and to give her some textures to work with. Then she quickly pushed him down until he was lying on his side, his head cradled in the palm of one hand like he’d done in her bed.

  She tweaked the pose a little, positioning his legs just so, then mussed up his hair a bit more. Landry didn’t have a clue what she was doing, but he was a good sport, staying exactly the way she instructed and chuckling as she raced for the easel on the far side of the room. She had to move everything around so she faced in his direction, but since she was using only graphite pencils instead of paint, it didn’t take long.

  Everly put her biggest pad on the easel then grabbed a soft pencil and drew superfast figure studies of Landry’s incredibly perfect body. And with him as a model, her pencil flew across the paper. She filled one sheet of the pad, then tore it off, and started another.

  She did figure studies of her friends and neighbors all the time—except they had clothes on. Tracing the basic outline of the human form, with no interest in details, was one of her favorite things to do. But it felt different now. She hadn’t felt this energized with her pencil in forever.

  Maybe it was the great sex she’d just had, or maybe it was the fact that she didn’t get a chance to draw nude guys too often. Hell, to be truthful, she’d never had a chance to draw a nude guy who looked like Landry because muscled Adonis types rarely volunteered at the art school she’d gone to.

  Then again, maybe it was the fact that she was naked too. She’d never drawn in the nude before. It was refreshing. Maybe she’d have to do it more often.

  Whatever the reason, the drawings practically jumped onto the page. She filled sheet after sheet with his beautiful body, posing him different ways, then moving her easel to get him from different vantage points.

  It was as she sketched him from the back that she realized his bruises were much smaller than they’d been after the attack. She swore that at least two or three had disappeared completely. She stopped drawing and walked over to take a closer look. Crap, she could barely see the big welt he’d had across his back a few hours earlier.

  “Is something wrong?” Landry asked over his shoulder.

  She shook her head and ran her hand down his back. Even the worst of the bruising was already lightening. When she got a bruise, it could take days, sometimes a week, to get to that point.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I just noticed how fast your bruises are healing.”

  He didn’t answer right away. “Yeah. I know. I’ve always healed quickly. It’s probably why I dealt with my injuries as well as I did when I got hurt in Iraq.”

  That made sense, she supposed. She wished she could get rid of bruises that fast. Every time she walked into a piece of furniture, she was forced to wear yoga pants every day or use concealer. She healed as slow as a tortoise compared to Landry.

  She repositioned Landry again then went back to her drawing pad. As she drew picture after picture, he asked her about art school, what she liked to draw, how and where she sold her works. It was so nice having a person besides Mia she could talk to about her art. Her dad and brothers acted like it was a waste of time.

  She tightened her grip on her pencil. Thinking about her brothers only reminded her of how mad she was at them. Regardless of what Landry suggested about simply ignoring them, Everly knew she would have to talk to them soon. If they thought they could chase her boyfriend off by beating him up, they were stupid. And wrong. If they thought she would let them do something like that to Landry again, they were even dumber. She didn’t care if they were family. If they tried anything like that again, she’d have them arrested. They needed to be fully aware of that in a way they’d understand.

  Everly pushed thoughts of her stupid brothers aside, refusing to let them ruin this evening. She focused on the beautiful naked man in front of her, positioning him in different ways and having fun sketching him. The fact that he was having so much fun posing for her only made it better.

  It was as she put Landry in a standing pose, turned at the hips like a Greek god glancing back at her, that she realized his cock was hard. Now that would definitely add a little more interest to her next drawing.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “But standing in front of you naked for the last couple hours is kind of a turn-on for me.”

  Everly laughed. She’d been aroused for most of the time they’d been in her studio too. She knew without reaching down to check that she was wet, and there was no way Landry could have missed her tight, hard nipples.

  She’d never gotten sexually aroused drawing nude models in college, but that was because none of them were as hunky as Landry.

  “Don’t be sorry.” She reached down to wrap a hand around his erect shaft. “It’s nice knowing I can get you worked up just by being naked.”

  At her touch, his cock jumped and got even harder. Landry completely abandoned his pose to turn around and kiss her. A minute later, they were on the floor with the canvas drop cloth under them, her body on top of his, his hard cock throbbing in her hand. For about the hundredth time, Everly couldn’t help but wonder at the luck that had befallen her. She’d walked into the bank that day on a whim and stumbled over the most perfect man she had ever met. She couldn’t imagine ever being happier.

  Chapter 13

  A low rumbling sound woke Everly up. At first, she didn’t know what it was until she heard it again. It was Landry’s cell phone. He had some kind of rumbling ringtone.

  She opened her eyes and groaned at the sun streaming through the window and at the clock on the bedside table that told her they’d only been asleep for forty-five minutes. It was Landry’s fault. He’d kept her up making love all night. Okay, maybe it wasn’t all his fault. She’d been more than willing to participate. She was replaying a few of the evening’s memorable moments in her head when the serious tone in Landry’s voice caught her attention. She rolled over to see him standing by the bed, his phone to his ear.

  “Is he okay?” Landry asked, the worry in his voice
unmistakable.

  Everly tensed, fearing that one of his SWAT teammates had been hurt on the job. But then his next question confused the heck out of her.

  “Has he been arrested yet?”

  She tried to get his attention, but Landry held up his finger and asked several more questions before he hung up and grabbed his boxer briefs.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, getting out of bed.

  He motioned her back down. “It’s Jim. He got drunk and got in a fight at a bar down near the airport. He’d be in jail already, but the responding officer found my business card in his pocket and figured that maybe this was something I’d want to handle.”

  She jumped out of bed again, running for her dresser and clean clothes. She could tell that Landry was upset, and she didn’t want him to deal with Jim on his own. She half expected him to say she didn’t have to go with him, but instead, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

  “Thanks,” was all he said.

  There wasn’t too much traffic yet, so it didn’t take them long to reach the bar the police officer had told Landry about. The parking lot was almost empty, making the black and white patrol car sitting there stand out like a sore thumb.

  She saw Jim the moment they walked into the small bar. He was sitting at a table near the back, pretty much passed out. The uniformed officer was standing near the bar with another man that Everly assumed was either the owner or the bartender on duty. The cop approached her and Landry.

  He motioned to Jim. “Is this guy a friend of yours?”

  Landry nodded. “Yeah.”

  The cop—Officer Warwick, according to the name tag on his uniform—explained Jim had gotten drunk and in a fight with some locals when the owner tried to tell him the bar was closing and that Jim couldn’t drink anymore.

  “You need to get this guy some help,” the officer said in a soft voice as he handed Jim’s car keys to Landry. “A couple locals took these from him when he tried to leave. He’s been here since seven o’clock last night. The owner said your friend should probably be dead from all the alcohol he put away. People don’t last long drinking like that. He knows your friend is a veteran so he’s not going to press charges, but I can’t guarantee he’ll be so lenient if this happens again.”

  “Tell him thanks,” Landry said.

  He paid the owner for the half dozen broken chairs, two tables, and the mirror behind the bar that Jim had smashed with a beer bottle. Then he gave the owner a business card.

  “If you need help with anything, call me. I owe you.”

  The man nodded and slipped the card in his shirt pocket, then went behind the bar to finish cleaning up.

  Jim didn’t say a word as Landry helped him up from the table and guided him toward the door. They put him in the back of the Jeep then climbed in the front seats. Everly frowned in confusion when Landry asked Jim where he was staying. How could Landry not remember? They’d been there a few nights ago.

  Jim mumbled something about a hotel behind the Doubletree about four or five blocks down the road. She gave Landry a questioning look, but he didn’t say anything as he started the Jeep, a grim, disappointed look on his face.

  Everly stared in disbelief when they got to the motel. It definitely wasn’t a Doubletree. Actually, she couldn’t see the name at all, but it kind of looked like a place someone might rent by the hour. Why would Jim make them think he was staying at the Doubletree instead of here? Was he hurting for money that badly? Why hadn’t he said anything? She had no doubt Landry would have helped him, and she would have too.

  Jim pointed them toward a room at the end of the building. Landry practically had to carry Jim inside and dump him on the bed. Everly waited outside. Jim seemed like a proud man. This wasn’t something he’d want her to see.

  She tried not to eavesdrop, but she could hear Landry asking Jim what the hell was going on with him. Jim was surprisingly coherent for a man who had obviously drank as much as he had.

  “I was just letting off a little steam, that’s all.”

  “You’re full of shit,” Landry ground out. “Jim, you need to get some help. Drinking like this is going to kill you.”

  “You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” Jim shot back. “When you were a tech, you drank like a fucking fish. How many times did I tell you to shower before PT because you reeked of alcohol? And now, you want to call me a drunk. Go fuck yourself!”

  Everly turned and walked back to the Jeep, tears stinging her eyes. She didn’t want to hear any more.

  Landry came out five minutes later. He cranked the engine and drove out of the motel parking lot without saying a word. Everly wanted to ask him if he was okay, but didn’t. He obviously wasn’t okay. He was upset. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. She wouldn’t push.

  But he didn’t say anything the whole way back to her apartment. As upset as he was, though, he still walked her to her apartment and kissed her good night—or good morning, in this case.

  “I had an incredible time last night,” he said. “Thanks for coming with me to get Jim. I know that wasn’t easy for you to see.”

  “It wasn’t, but I’m glad I came if it made things a little easier for you.” She reached up to brush back an unruly piece of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “You coming over tonight after work?”

  His mouth curved, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Definitely. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  Landry kissed her again then left. Everly watched him go, wishing she could say something to make everything better. She couldn’t believe how much she hurt for him. Maybe because it seemed like he wasn’t capable of hurting for himself.

  * * *

  Cooper knew he probably should have gone back to his place to shower. He hadn’t had more than an hour of sleep in the past two days. But the idea of being alone with his thoughts for even that long convinced him that would be a shitty idea. That was why he headed to the compound instead.

  The moment he walked in the door of the admin building, Dennis called his cell saying he’d set up a meeting with all the people from the defense firm targeted by the bomber. The CEO would have everyone there in an hour.

  “Take Alex and Remy with you,” Xander said from his desk when Cooper hung up. “And keep me in the loop about what’s going on.”

  Damn, sometimes it was really nice having coworkers who could overhear a person’s phone call from forty feet away. It definitely cut down on a whole lot of repeated conversations.

  Cooper, Alex, and Remy made it to Triple S-I with ten minutes to spare. If not for the big pieces of plywood put up to replace the blown out glass, the place would have looked almost respectable again.

  Dennis came over and brought them up to speed on where they were with the case as soon as they walked in the conference room.

  “Things are finally looking up. With this recent bombing, Jed and his brothers are looking at life in prison, maybe the death sentence, for being part of a terrorist conspiracy. They’re looking to cut a deal, so we’re bringing in a sketch artist tomorrow for them to work with. With any luck, we’ll find this sick fuck soon.”

  Cooper hoped so. He, Alex, and Remy moved to stand in the back of the room as Arnold Braun came in with the company’s corporate officers. Dennis joined them at the big conference table and asked the standard questions: Did any of them have dealings with a distraught member of the military? Did they know someone who had a grudge against the company? Did anyone know someone in the military who died under circumstances that someone might think Triple S-I was involved in? Did any of them have connections to a soldier who had been recently deployed?

  They each gave the same answer to each question—no. There didn’t seem to be a reason for these people to be targeted by the bomber. Few of them even dealt with service members in the course of their everyday jobs. They mostly moved paperwork—and money—around.

  Cooper was starting to think all of this was a waste of time when another man in a suit wa
lked in. Braun introduced the late arrival as Ryan North, former captain in the U.S. Army. The CEO said something about why North had been late, but Cooper didn’t hear any of it. All he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

  Cooper had never met North because he’d arrived in Iraq the day Cooper had left. North had been the inbound commander of his EOD unit, the one he’d missed by mere minutes when he’d been blown through a brick wall and flown back to the States four years ago.

  A sickening feeling churned in his gut, as his heart beat faster. His inner wolf shouted at him that there was no way in hell that North working for the company targeted by the bomber was a coincidence.

  As far as Cooper knew, North had quietly left the army after serving his initial officer obligation, his reputation marred by the death of three of his men. But while he’d been the commander of the EOD unit when those men had died, he’d only been a wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant back then. No one expected him to know what the hell he was doing.

  Unlike Jim, who’d been the senior and most experienced tech on the op. Jim was the one who’d been forced to live with the rumors, whispers, and innuendoes, saying he was to blame for his fellow soldiers’ deaths every day of his life since it happened.

  The sick feeling in Cooper’s stomach got worse as he considered all the other coincidences in this case. Like Jim walking away from the army and EOD, then showing up on his doorstep a few days after the first bombing and drinking like a man desperate to make certain memories go away that night at dinner. Like Jim getting drunk in that bar last night after the second bombing.

  Oh, fuck no. Cooper told himself that he had to be wrong. But his gut told him he wasn’t. Ryan North was the bomber’s target, and Jim was the man trying to kill him.

  The bottom fell out of Cooper’s world then. For the first time since he’d been lying paralyzed in that burning building in Iraq, he felt powerless and unsure of what to do next.