Undercover Wolf Page 5

  He regarded her thoughtfully. “Adriana has a specific scent like any other human, but she definitely smells human.”

  “What about Misty?” she prompted. “Does she have a distinctive scent?”

  Misty smelled human to Harley, but that didn’t mean much of anything.

  “Should she?” Damn, Sawyer’s accent even made confused sound sexy. “Is she special like Adriana?”

  Harley nodded, wondering if she should be outing Misty’s hypercool ability. “She can communicate with computers and other kinds of electronic devices. Like a Vulcan mind meld, except with an inanimate object.”

  She thought Sawyer would be as surprised as she was when Misty had first demonstrated her talent, but he merely lifted a brow. “That’s useful.” His mouth twitched. “Although I have to admit, I’m more of a Doctor Who than a Star Trek fan. But for the record, Misty smells human, too.”

  Harley considered that as she eyed the tourists and they started walking again. “So we could be surrounded by people like Adriana, Misty, or even that jerk with the knife.”

  The memory of the guy who could disappear and reappear at will made her wonder how worried they should be about that.

  Sawyer didn’t seem concerned, though. “We could be, but I’d like to think our werewolf instincts would tell us if any of them were dangerous.”

  Up ahead, the Eiffel Tower came into view as they moved past the bridge. Even from this distance, the structure was something to behold.

  Harley let out a little snort. “You have a lot more faith in your wolf talents than I do. I was lucky to figure out the vampire was bad news and that was only because I saw all those teeth.”

  “It can be tricky when you’re new to the whole werewolf thing,” Sawyer said as they paused across the street from the Eiffel Tower. They both had to crane their necks to see all the way to the top, but it was worth it. Up close, it was truly spectacular. “I know my instincts got better over time. How long has it been since you went through your change?”

  Harley doubted that was the issue, and even though she knew the exact date she’d turned, she did the math in her head anyway for the hell of it. “Eight years. I was twenty when I turned.”

  When Sawyer didn’t say anything, Harley looked away from the gorgeous gigantic tower in front of her to see him standing there looking a little uncomfortable. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

  “Let me guess,” she said drily. “You’ve been a werewolf for less than that, right?”

  “Yeah.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “I turned four years ago. But I don’t know much about our kind, so maybe it’s less about time and more about experiences. Being part of MI6, I kind of had to figure out how to make this thing work for me—fast.”

  Considering she’d spent the vast majority of her time as a werewolf completely ignoring that part of herself, she imagined Sawyer was probably right, though she doubted if he’d understand. Not wanting to talk about the reasons behind why she never tried to tap into her inner werewolf, she turned and took a few pictures of the Eiffel Tower. Harley had to fight the urge to talk Sawyer into joining the ridiculously long line of people waiting to climb the steps to the top for a view of the city. But the wait was probably two or three hours. They didn’t have the time.

  Reluctantly turning away from one of the places she’d wanted to visit her whole life, she fell into step beside Sawyer as they began walking again.

  “How far is it to the Pont Alexandre?” she asked, praying Sawyer didn’t start asking questions she wasn’t ready to answer as they made their way to the bridge. She might trust Sawyer with her life, but she wasn’t ready to share all her secrets. Not when she refused to even discuss most of them with herself.

  “About a mile,” he murmured. “Probably less than twenty minutes.”

  Harley wasn’t so sure about that, considering how much stuff there’d be to look at along the way, but she didn’t bother pointing that out. She followed the sidewalk as it began to veer to the right, figuring she’d walk faster when there wasn’t as much to see in this area. That would give her extra time for the good stuff.

  They mostly talked about the sights as they walked and it quickly became apparent Sawyer knew a lot more about Paris than she did. That only made sense considering he lived across the channel. When they weren’t discussing the buildings, scenery, or passing people, the main topic of interest was Adriana and her story about the supernatural auction. No matter how many times Harley thought they were done with the subject, she found her mind coming back to it. She couldn’t understand why a group of supernaturals would do something like this to others of their kind. Wasn’t it bad enough they had to worry about being grabbed up by the torch and pitchfork crowd? To have to look over their shoulders for other supernaturals coming after them was all kinds of wrong.

  “Do you think there’s any chance the kidnappers could have gotten their hands on a werewolf?” she asked.

  She wasn’t sure why that thought terrified her more than the idea of someone like Adriana being grabbed. But for some reason, it did.

  “I’d like to think it’d be impossible to catch a werewolf by surprise,” he said as they made their way across the ornate Pont Alexandre that spanned the Seine River, to the Champs-Élysées beyond it. “But considering they have other supernaturals working for them, like that guy who can disappear and reappear at will, it’d be silly to think we wouldn’t be as vulnerable as anyone else.”

  That wasn’t very reassuring.

  It was dark by the time they reached the heart of the shopping and entertainment area along the crowded street. The beautiful store windows helped distract her from thoughts of the supernatural auction and the people who ran it. She and Sawyer wandered into several of the stores, and although everything was way too expensive for her to afford, it was fun anyway. Thankfully, Sawyer didn’t look at her like she’d lost her mind when she spent a crazy amount of time oohing and aahing over a particular pair of Jimmy Choo strappy sandals so gorgeous she almost cried. In fact, he seemed to enjoy how happy something as simple as a pair of shoes made her.

  When the thrill of window-shopping started to wear off, they found a quaint restaurant that was perfect for an early evening dinner. But then she got a look at the prices on the leather-bound menu displayed on a stand outside the place and thought maybe they should go to the McDonald’s down the street. A salad cost as much as she normally paid for an entire dinner at the places she usually went.

  “Look at these prices,” she said.

  Sawyer chuckled. “Come on. How often are you going to get a chance to eat at a fancy French restaurant in Paris? Besides, I’m paying, so you don’t have to feel bad about spending so much money.”

  Harley opened her mouth to say he didn’t have to do that, but Sawyer was already holding open the door for her. Deciding she could tell him after they were seated, she walked into the restaurant. And stared. Between the elegant tables with their fancy, folded cloth napkins, satin curtains on the picture-perfect windows, and the delicate chandeliers, Harley felt like they’d stepped into a fairy tale.

  The hostess led them to one of the small dining rooms that made up the building’s first floor. Only big enough to accommodate six intimate tables, the walls were covered in rich wood wainscoting and paintings straight out of the Renaissance. Best of all, there were no other people seated in there. Knowing she’d have Sawyer all to herself was inexplicably satisfying.

  Harley was surprised when Sawyer pulled her chair out for her as they sat down. She definitely didn’t have a problem with chivalry but didn’t have a lot of experience with it. She hadn’t gone on a lot of dates since becoming a werewolf.

  Not that this was a date, she reminded herself. They were simply two werewolves having dinner. At the same table. Together. That’s all.

  Their server, a tall, thin guy with dark hair, appeared at the table the mo
ment they were seated to describe some of his favorite dishes on the menu. Everything he recommended sounded delicious, but truthfully, as an alpha werewolf who hadn’t eaten anything substantial in the past twenty-four hours, she yearned for something with lots and lots of protein. Sawyer must have felt the same because they both ended up ordering the same thing—beef fillet with pepper sauce, thin-cut french fries, spinach with cheesy Mornay sauce, a Caesar salad on the side, and crème brûlée for dessert. Harley refused to do the math to figure out how much all of that was going to cost. Like Sawyer had said, it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

  When the server told them he’d bring back the perfect red wine to accompany their meal, Harley decided she’d have to take his word for that, since she knew less about wine than she did about being a werewolf. After the man poured it into their glasses and waited while they tasted it, she had to admit the fruity wine was delicious.

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” she said to Sawyer as the server left. At his questioning look, she added, “I overheard Weatherford talking to you and your team before we left the hotel.”

  She hadn’t been eavesdropping, but she was a werewolf, so hearing other people’s conversations without meaning to came with the territory. Sawyer’s boss had been outside the conference room with the rest of the team when they’d walked out and said he needed to speak to Sawyer, so she’d wandered down to the far end of the hallway to wait for him.

  Sawyer nodded, his blue eyes clouding. “Thanks. Silas was a good man.”

  According to Weatherford, Sawyer’s former teammate, Silas Thompson, was killed early that morning while on a mission. MI6 didn’t have many details yet and sounded like they were still trying to figure out what happened. All they knew for sure was that someone slit his throat. Sawyer and his team had all seemed to take the news hard.

  “Something tells me this isn’t the first time work has brought you to Paris,” she said, partly because she was genuinely curious, but also because she felt badly for reminding Sawyer about his fallen teammate.

  As Sawyer shook his head, Harley couldn’t help but notice once again how handsome he was. Who knew she had a thing for British guys? Or was she so attracted to him because he was a werewolf?

  “I’ve been here half a dozen times or more with my team, but this is the first time I’ve ever gone out to see the sights,” he said. “The missions we go on are all about getting in and getting out. I’ve traveled all around the world and seen almost none of it.”

  Harley grimaced. “That sounds downright depressing.”

  Sawyer shrugged his broad shoulders. “Can’t disagree with you there. I love my job and being with my team makes everything worthwhile, but sometimes, it seems like I’m missing something.”

  She understood that. The need to find whatever was missing from her life was the reason she’d taken McKay up on his offer to join STAT after she’d spent most of her time avoiding hanging around anyone for more than a couple weeks.

  “Maybe you simply need a vacation,” she suggested.

  “Vacation?” He let out a husky laugh. “What’s that?”

  She smiled at him over the rim of her wineglass. “I hear ya. I haven’t worked for STAT long enough to even earn any vacation time yet. Check back when I do and I’ll let you know if I’m the vacation type.”

  Their server showed up to prepare their Caesar salad table side, then left, but not before placing a basket of crunchy, freshly baked bread. Harley had to fight the urge to moan at the first taste of tangy dressing that covered the assortment of greens. She’d had Caesar salad many times, but this was the best she’d ever eaten.

  “You’ve only worked for STAT a little while, yet you’ve been a werewolf for eight years?” Sawyer asked after most of his salad was gone and he’d slowed his pace a little. “How did that happen?”

  Harley tried to keep her fork moving so Sawyer wouldn’t realize she was floundering for something to say. Well, something to say that wouldn’t reveal how totally screwed up her life had been the past eight years.

  “It’s…complicated.”

  “Complicated stories are the best kind.” The corners of his mouth tipped up a little before he sipped his wine. “But for the sake of conversation, let’s start with something simple. How did you become a werewolf?”

  Every trace of air left her lungs and she felt a tingle in her gums and fingertips as her aforementioned inner werewolf tried to make an appearance. But that was silly. That stuff didn’t happen to her. She’d never been able to shift into her wolf form, partially or otherwise.

  Thankfully, their server interrupted before she could say anything. He smiled when he saw they’d both demolished their salads and the basket of bread. Taking the plates away, he used one of those fancy metal spatula things to scrape up the crumbs from the linen tablecloth, then two assistants swooped in with their main course, the steaks still sizzling and the aromas savory enough to make even Harley’s nose sit up and beg. The slim fries looked mouthwatering and she barely stopped herself from asking for a bottle of ketchup before their server left. They probably didn’t have ketchup in a place like this.

  Harley focused on her dinner, hoping Sawyer would forget what they’d been talking about. Perfectly cooked, the spicy beef melted in her mouth. When she finally glanced up, it was to see him regarding her with a raised eyebrow, and she knew she was out of luck.

  “Well?” he prompted when she still didn’t say anything.

  “Isn’t asking how I became a werewolf kind of personal?” She speared another piece of beef with her fork. “It’s like asking a woman how old she is.”

  “It can’t be that personal since you had no problem revealing your age at the drop of a hat earlier,” Sawyer countered in that devastating accent of his, humor filling his tone.

  She picked up a well-seasoned french fry and nibbled on it. Mmm. French fries in France really did taste better. “If it isn’t a big deal, why don’t you go first and tell me how you became a werewolf?”

  He chuckled. “Seriously? That’s how this is going to go? You’ll show me yours if I show you mine?”

  She laughed, unable to help herself. Just like that, she relaxed.

  “I’d already been working covert operations with the British SAS for six years when MI6 approached me.” He cut into his fillet and casually chewed the first bite. Werewolves had sharp teeth, even in fully human form, and the morsel disappeared quickly. “It wasn’t that big of a career change, and who wouldn’t want to be an agent for MI6? I jumped at the offer.”

  “How long did you work for them before going through your change?” she asked, taking a bite of her own steak.

  Going through the change was the safe phrase werewolves used to describe going through the incredibly horrible event that would kill a normal person, but in their cases, it flipped the switch on a gene and turned them into something totally different.

  His mouth edged up. “If you don’t count the training, barely two months. I was with my team in Odessa on what was supposed to be a minor surveillance job. We thought there’d be a low probability of hostile contact because our intel said they were a group of wannabe terrorists, led by some Ukrainian oil magnate named Yegor Shevchenko. This guy and his brother were pissed off about something and were looking to buy weapons to stage their first attack.

  “Erin, Rory, and Elliott had all been with the team for a year or two and Weatherford was the team leader. I was the new guy,” Sawyer continued. “Our job was simply to monitor the situation and determine how serious the threat might become in the future. We weren’t even there to stop the weapon exchange—just observe and report. It should have been a cakewalk.”

  “I’m guessing things didn’t go as planned?” Harley asked.

  Sawyer shoved a few fries into his mouth and shook his head. “Do they ever? But you’re right. It went wrong—fast. Somehow, Shevchenko figured out we
were onto him and turned the tables on us. They hit us the moment we walked into the compound outside our safe house. There were eight of us, but most weren’t armed at the time. Let’s just say it was…bad.”

  “You were shot?” Harley murmured softly, her stomach strangely tense at the thought of Sawyer being hurt. Which was crazy, considering she’d seen half her STAT teammates shot up already and barely noticed it. Hell, Jake had a tree branch shoved through his chest and she hadn’t batted an eye.

  “Shot?” The question earned her a soft snort from him. “That’s an understatement. I was the first one hit by automatic weapon fire coming from the walkway overlooking the courtyard of the safe house. I probably should have died on the spot.”

  Harley stopped even trying to go through the motions of eating, her whole body frozen solid as she pictured Sawyer lying broken and bleeding on the ground. The image made it hard to breathe.

  “I was in so much pain, I could barely comprehend what was happening around me,” he said quietly. “All I knew for sure was that I was going to die and my team was going to be wiped out. I’d only been with them for two months, but they were important to me. And while I probably should have been completely freaked out about dying, I was more worried about them.”

  She sat there silently, waiting for him to continue, part of her wanting to beg him not to even as the other part needed to know the rest.

  “I had no idea what I was hoping to accomplish,” he said, the distant expression on his face making her think he was reliving every moment of that time. “I shoved myself off the ground and ran toward the nearest target, figuring if I could take down even one of them, it might give the other members of my team a chance to survive.”

  He paused to take another bite of steak and though she didn’t have much of an appetite anymore, Harley forced herself to do the same.

  “I ended up taking down Yegor and caught another round in the hip for my trouble,” Sawyer said, focusing on his plate. “I ignored the pain and headed for the next terrorist. I knew I was a goner, so I might as well go out swinging.”