Читать книгу Undercover Wolf - Linda O. Johnston - Страница 11

The hotel was charming, a converted Victorian mansion right in the heart of Bar Harbor. From what Kristine had seen of it so far, the downtown area was a small, charismatic collection of stores and restaurants, inns and parks and churches, mostly near the water, since the town was located on Mount Desert Island.

A wonderful place for a honeymoon, she thought—if the lovers stayed in their rooms and out of trouble.

But these new, false honeymooners—Quinn and her? They would soon be out and about and looking for trouble … looking for what had happened to their real newlywed counterparts.

“You ready for this?” Quinn sat in the driver’s seat of the sedan they had rented after flying into Bangor, about fifty miles away. This was the first time she had seen him out of his uniform since the wedding … unless she counted when she had seen him in nothing at all.

The thought shot a plume of fire through her insides—from anxiety, she told herself. That was all. Before they had left Ft. Lukman, they had talked their plans over with Drew Connell. Since they were here very unofficially, he had agreed that it was better for them to really go undercover, take on alternate identities. Act as if they had nothing to do with the military. Or Alpha Force.

Honeymooners? He’d raised his eyebrows at that but hadn’t objected. In fact, he seemed to support the idea.

And despite Kristine’s deep misgivings, the pretense actually did make sense. They might get the same kinds of responses to their questions that the missing couple had been given. Be treated similarly by people they ran into here.

Learn something faster than if they pretended just to be acquaintances vacationing together.

They would therefore sleep in the same room. They would pretend, outside that room, to be lovey-dovey. Sexually attracted to one another.

One major problem, Kristine thought, was that it would be too easy for her to feign the latter …

“Sure. Let’s go in.” She responded to Quinn’s question with an assumed bravado.

She jumped out of the car, opened the door to the backseat and pulled out her backpack, which contained mostly clothes. It would have been hard to hide the Alpha Force elixir and light in carry-on baggage, so she had packed them in a suitcase and checked it. Even so, they had identified themselves as military to the Transportation Security Administration folks at the airport. These days, checked luggage screening looked for anything that could be turned into a terrorist bomb. An intense light might not get anyone’s attention, but the quantity of elixir might. So might the weapons they had packed.

They had given no explanation of their travel plans to the TSA people who had checked them out. Fortunately, no one had questioned them too closely. Not that they’d admit what they were up to—or that one of the tools they would take advantage of here, as soon as possible, was Quinn’s shapeshifting ability.

“I’ll take that, honey.”

Quinn’s deep voice behind her made her jump. Honey? The word shouldn’t give her shivers—at least not of pleasure. No, it was the harbinger of the night before them.

“No, thank you, dear.” She turned and gave him a couple of bats of her eyelashes, concurrently lifting her chin as if challenging him. “I can handle this, as long as you get our large bags out of the trunk and take care of them.”

“They’re on wheels.” His voice was no longer syrupy sweet. He evidently didn’t like her contradicting him. “You can pull yours.”

Too bad.

“I appreciate the offer, sweetheart, but as you know, I’m used to carrying my own backpack.” She reached over, patted his cheek that suggested the initial coarseness from the black shadow of a beard, then maneuvered the pack onto her shoulders. She started toward the door of the hotel without making sure he was dealing with the bags. She knew he would do just fine.

He caught up with her as she reached the registration desk. Amazingly, in only the short amount of time they’d had after making their decision and heading here, Quinn had already obtained fake IDs for them, including driver’s licenses and credit cards.

He had obviously maintained his contacts as a private investigator despite enlisting in the military—and not just his online skills and passwords. Maybe he intended his enlistment to be temporary. Very temporary.

She just hoped that would be the right thing for Alpha Force.

She, on the other hand, considered herself all military despite the civilian roles they played now.

“Hi,” she said to the woman behind the desk, who was clad in a brown suit and weary smile. “We’re the Scotts.” The first names on their ID cards matched their real ones, for ease of remembering them, but they’d taken on a false surname for their investigation. “Kristine and Quinn. Do you have our reservation?”

The woman, with a pin on her lapel that said she was Betty from Newport, began typing on a computer on the desk in front of her, and then her grin widened. “Yes, we do.” She ran through the formalities of taking a credit card—with their newly acquired IDs—and putting together key cards for their room. “Enjoy your stay,” she said.

“I’m sure we will.” Kristine made herself gush, even though she wasn’t a gushy person. Then she leaned toward Betty conspiratorially. “Do many other people come here on their honeymoon?”

“Why, yes.” By then Betty was beaming. “Another newlywed couple even checked in a few days ago. They’re gone now, though.”

“Did they have a good time?” Quinn asked from beside Kristine.

“I’ll bet they did, although I didn’t see them again. Anyway, I hope you enjoy your stay.”

On their way to the elevator, Kristine said, “Your seeing their credit card charge doesn’t mean anything. The way checking out is handled now at most hotels, with bills just slipped under the door during the last night of a reservation, there wasn’t anything suspicious about how Simon and Grace disappeared, except—”

“Except that word might have gotten around to the staff if they’d failed to take their belongings.”

“Right. So they apparently took their stuff. If so—”

“Where are they?” he finished.

Quinn had pretended not to notice Kristine’s dismay when they reached their quaint room with antique furnishings that suited the character of the converted mansion—and found only one queen-size bed in it. She hadn’t said anything except to thank him for hefting her suitcase onto one of the folding luggage stands.

They had already decided to unpack quickly, then leave right away to grab dinner at whatever spot the concierge at the inn said was the place he recommended most often to guests.

That meant it could be the place where he’d sent Simon and Grace.

Quinn and Kristine were there now, sitting at a table with a red checked tablecloth in the center of the main room. The BarHar Bistro was crowded, including the anterooms off to the sides. Apparently their concierge wasn’t the only one to recommend it—or locals already knew about, and frequented, the place. There wasn’t much space for the waitstaff to maneuver between tables, and the elbow room for diners was limited, as well.

Quinn hoped that the overcrowding was a sign that the food was good, not just that it was an in place where people dined simply because it was popular.

The place smelled tantalizing to Quinn’s enhanced senses. The acoustics weren’t great, though—probably not even for a regular human with lesser hearing. The undercurrent of voices was a loud, unpleasant hum.

Kristine had been pretending to study the menu, but he saw her eyes darting sideways often.

“What looks good to you, dear?” he asked aloud, then leaned slightly across the table toward her. “I suspect,” he added more softly, “that strangers here wouldn’t be noticed much.”

She nodded glumly. “My thoughts, too.”

A perky blonde in black pants and white shirt sidled around one of the tables nearby and approached them. “Welcome to BarHar. My name is Steph, and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start you with something to drink?”

Showtime, Quinn thought. “You sure can. Champagne. We’re celebrating.”

“Really?” Steph asked, as Kristine forced a sunny smile onto her face. “What are you celebrating?”

“We just got married,” Kristine chimed in. “Do you recommend any particular champagne to other newlyweds who come in here?”

“That’s assuming we’re not the first,” Quinn added with a laugh.

Steph responded as they’d attempted to program her. “Oh, you’re definitely not the first.”

“But we’re the most recent,” Kristine said. “Aren’t we?”

“Well, yes. At least I don’t know of any others here tonight. But there was at least one other couple here last week.”

“Really? I’ll bet they weren’t as good-looking as us.” Quinn knew he was laying it on too thick. In fact, this might not be a good idea. He was well aware that Simon and he resembled one another—and it might be a bad thing to have anyone associate the two of them, especially if Simon was suspected of committing a crime.

But if Bar Harbor authorities suspected Simon and Grace, that, thankfully, didn’t seem to have gotten out even to the local media, nor had it otherwise been made public.

Yet.

“Maybe not,” Steph said. “But they were good tippers.” She winked at them. “Here’s the champagne I recommended to them.” She pointed to a fairly expensive one on the wine list Quinn had been pretending to study.

“Looks good to me. Did you recommend any entrées to them, too?”

“I did, but I think they both ordered steaks.”

Ah. That was a good indication that the couple were his brother and new sister-in-law. Shifters, at least those who changed into werewolves, ate a lot of red meat to satisfy their feral needs.

He glanced up at Kristine, who nodded slightly. She’d gotten it, too.

“Well, please bring us the same champagne, and we’ll figure out what else to order.” The steak sounded good to Quinn, but Kristine might not yet have decided.

When the server left, Kristine was the one to lean toward Quinn. “Looks like we’re on the right track. But just following … them … won’t necessarily get us the information we need.” He liked how she was being discreet. Not that it was likely for anyone to be eavesdropping on them, but even if someone at a neighboring table was listening in, they wouldn’t be able to follow the underlying meaning of their conversation.

“No, but it’s a start. We’ll be more proactive soon. Although—” Quinn had started doing his own eavesdropping—much more easily, with his abilities, than anyone else in this room was likely to be able to do. He now focused in on who had uttered the words he had been listening for: Acadia and body.

Fortunately, the speakers were at a nearby table, one just behind him. He slid his chair back slightly and said to Kristine, “Excuse me for a minute, dear.” But instead of rising and heading for the restroom, he turned toward the speaker. “Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help hearing you mention those awful deaths that occurred a few nights ago. My wife—” He stopped and grinned at that, as if he was enjoying using the word for nearly the first time. “We just got married and we’re here on our honeymoon, but we almost changed our plans, hearing about such a terrible thing. Wild animals killed some tourists in the park, right?”

There were four young, brawny guys around the table. “That’s right,” said a tall basketball-player sort with spiky hair. “We came here planning to hike through the park but we’ve got second thoughts, too.”

“I live here,” said a young woman at the next table over. “All of us in town are also concerned. But you tourists—well, as long as you’re careful, you should be fine.”

“Spoken like a good local promoter,” Steph, the server, said, joining them. She had their champagne, plus two empty flutes, on a tray. She put them on the table and poured a little into each glass. As Quinn and Kristine both took preliminary sips, she moved around again and continued, “But … well, I enjoy hiking in my spare time, too. I haven’t heard what’s going on with the investigation, except that the thought is like you said, some kind of wild animal got those tourists. No one’s sure, though.”

“Are there many wild animals in Acadia?” Quinn asked. “I mean, I’m sure there are squirrels and rats and such, but what kind might be dangerous enough to kill people?”

He noticed that Kristine had maneuvered her chair around the table to sit beside him, notwithstanding the crush of other nearby patrons. She was listening attentively. He liked the seriousness of her expression beneath her sexy and short hair, as dark as a moonless night sky. She was one attractive soldier, and she was doing a hell of a job as his undercover wife.

“There are coyotes,” the local woman said. “Bears, too, and even bobcats. But they don’t usually attack people. I heard in the news that the people killed were two sisters from St. Louis who were active members of a national wildlife preservation organization. Maybe they got too up close and personal with some creature.”

“Can happen anywhere that there are wild animals like that,” said one of the guys at the table who hadn’t spoken before. “Too bad we can’t shoot ‘em.”

“No hunting and trapping in Acadia,” the woman chimed in, looking angry that killing wild animals had even been mentioned. Quinn liked that attitude.

“But park rangers can probably kill vicious animals that hurt people,” said Basketball Player, and his comrades nodded.

“Whatever happened,” said Steph, “I’m sure everyone visiting the park will be on guard to make sure it can’t happen again. Now—” She faced Quinn and Kristine. “May I take your order?”

“At least we have a general idea of the position of townspeople and tourists,” Kristine said later as they walked along the sidewalk, past souvenir, clothing and other shops still open for visitors’ pleasure. It was dark outside, but the narrow street was lined with lights.

“Yeah, and fortunately no one we spoke with has claimed that the killings could have been done by shapeshifters,” Quinn responded. He reached over and took her hand. At her glance, he prepared to remind her of their cover.

But she didn’t pull away. In fact, she grasped his hand even harder.

Which almost made him smile. At least until her next words.

“Even if there are any suspicions like that,” she said, “no one’s about to admit them aloud without any evidence. Not unless they want other people to doubt their sanity.”

He stopped and looked at her. “Right. Sane people don’t believe in shapeshifters, do they?”

“Looks like there’s a lot of insanity going around,” she said, and smiled. She raised her chin a little. He’d already begun to appreciate that as a characteristic gesture, a statement of challenge and determination. “But we still haven’t gotten any clue about where Simon and Grace might be,” Kristine continued. “You’re the investigator.”

“Yeah, I’m the professional investigator,” he agreed, “but I heard from Grace how much she relied on your ideas to help in Alpha Force assignments.”

Kristine’s grin looked proud but she shrugged her shoulders modestly. He liked her unassuming nature despite her obvious drive and intelligence.

“We’ll work on it more tomorrow,” he said. “Take the same tour they did, for starters. I’m also working on some other ideas.”

“Sounds good.”

They walked on for a while in silence. Kristine halted outside one small shop that sold pet supplies. “I’ll bet that Grace stopped in here. She’d have wanted to bring something back for Tilly.” That was Grace’s cover dog. All of the shifters had one that resembled them in shifted form.

Quinn hadn’t gotten one yet, and neither had Simon. They were too new to Alpha Force. But he had seen how Kristine had lovingly said goodbye to her own assigned dog, Bailey, who had traveled with her on her last assignment along with Grace and Tilly.

Another admirable trait. The woman liked dogs. Real dogs. And apparently she also cared for shifters.

He was going to have to watch himself around Staff Sgt. Kristine Norwood. He was coming to like her too much.

And that could be a mistake.

“So what’s your next idea?” Kristine finally asked, breaking the growing silence between them. Not that Quinn had found it uncomfortable—but he had been using it to think. And to plan.

“The night’s still young,” he said. “Why waste it? I’m ready to prowl.”

He knew, of course, that Acadia was a national park with established entrances. At least this first time, before they had oriented themselves about locations, he didn’t want to be seen driving in so late in the evening. Not many tourists were likely to be around, even though the park was open—or at least the campgrounds were.

As a result, he drove them both in the rental car along one road at the park’s outer perimeter, and then another, until he spotted a turnout surrounded by lots of vegetation, right beside a sheer cliff.

Insurmountable for mere humans. Not for a shapeshifter.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

“Here?” Kristine looked both puzzled and skeptical. He enjoyed watching the expressions play across her unconventionally pretty face.

“Here,” he confirmed. He parked at the end of the turnout closest to the thickest shrubbery. “It’s fairly isolated and I doubt we’ll see many cars at this hour.”

“Okay.” She opened her door. He popped the trunk open and she extracted her ubiquitous backpack—once more filled with the equipment he needed.

In only a few minutes, he had drunk a dose of the elixir and stripped—enjoying Kristine’s attempt to appear nonchalant and disinterested while sneaking peeks at his bare body. Which only made said body react the way he knew it would. But only for a minute—until the light she trained on him began its job.

He felt the usual tugging and pulling … and then his shift continued.

This was as much bliss as a shapeshifter could experience. No full moon. Complete mental sharpness.

If only his leap onto the mountainside five minutes ago, and his initial stalking into the park, could yield useful information.

Unlikely, though. It was a distance from where he thought he’d heard the mauling of the tourists had occurred.

He inhaled the complicated and intriguing scents of other wildlife—the coyotes and bobcats he had anticipated, as well as smaller, unimportant creatures.

This was merely an initial foray, a more-than-pleasant test. He would accomplish more with future shifts around here, but at least he had gotten his first wild taste of Acadia.

For now, he would simply revel in the freedom and ability to enjoy it. Not to mention his current, undoubtedly brief independence from the military, its structure, its orders.

He had wondered long before enlisting if the elixir Simon had told him about would be enticing enough for him to give up his life, his freedom, his sanity.

If all had gone well, perhaps it would have been more than enough to experience this amazing kind of shift as often as possible.

But all was not going well, with his brother, and now with him—while he was, in some respects, AWOL from his official assignment.

What would happen if he found Simon and Grace?

What would happen if he didn’t?

He had to find them, of course. Alive and well, and with a full, logical explanation of where they had been, and how they had not been involved in the park killings.

And then he would not have to wonder whether he could continue to immerse himself in a life that required him to follow the orders of strangers, some of whom he despised.

But a life that included this marvelous elixir.

And an aide like Kristine. For now.

Kristine, the dedicated and permanent soldier. Attractive, smart and sexy … but a nonshifter.

A scent blew toward him—a coyote. Drawing closer. It must have smelled him, too.

He paced farther into the forest. Not even a hint of the aromas of Simon or Grace, shifted or not.

His frustrations mounted.

No answers tonight.