Three Hours (Seven Series Book 5) (11 page)

The ropes of muscle in his arms were taut from the tight grip he had on the armrests of the chair.

Oh, no. This couldn’t be happening.

My cell phone rang and snapped me out of my fantasies. I stood up and put my hands on my hips. “I have a feeling that before this is all over, we’re going to end up killing each other.”

A sardonic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Now that sounds like fun.”

Wheeler’s presence in my apartment that afternoon was insufferable
. He watched two vampire movies and then brought in a bag of beef jerky from his car to gnaw on. When he slung his legs over the arm of my chair and took a nap, I retreated to my balcony to soak up a little sun in my Adirondack chair. Lexi called, and I changed the topic each time she tried to squeeze information out of me. I had a great deal of respect for Austin’s willingness to help; therefore, it wasn’t my place to tell his mate something he hadn’t disclosed to her himself. I’d lose the pack’s respect for not honoring the confidence of their Packmaster, and I needed to stay in their good graces.

She reminded me about their upcoming costume party. Humans only held parties for special occasions, but we didn’t play by the same rules. When I used to live in Canada, a Mage had invited me to a masked ball at his secluded mansion, and I’d been deliriously thrilled to go. He’d supplied carriage rides around the property, and we’d dined like kings and queens—drinking from goblets and sampling fine cuisine. Many immortals had old money, so they lived extravagantly. My parties were big, but not showy. Only those I trusted to behave themselves were allowed inside my apartment—everyone else had to mingle on the stairwell or open grounds. I always extended invitations to my human neighbors so no one would call the police.

Although I certainly didn’t mind whenever they did show up. I adored men in uniform. I found the symbolism of their attire in relation to their position of power extremely sexy.

Later that afternoon, Wheeler’s friend rang my bell to hand me the keys to my Trans Am. Since he’d replaced my tires, I paid him. I guessed every man had “a guy” he could call on a whim who would perform random requests without question.

Sitting around the apartment with a wolf who loved gothic movies wasn’t my idea of a good time, so I decided a wax would be less painful to endure. Wheeler offered to drive, and I couldn’t help but smile as we pulled up to the shop and I saw the look of objection on his face when he read the sign.

Suffice it to say, he waited in the car.

For Shifters, a good Brazilian wax requires no special care afterward. A quick shift in the bathroom heals up any skin irritation and we’re no worse for wear. Luckily my panther was a cooperative girl, but I still went to my usual Breed shop.

After a detailed wax and sprucing up in the bathroom, I headed out to the car feeling refreshed and smooth. The sun warmed my bare shoulders, and Wheeler was snoozing in his Camaro with the windows down.

“Miss me?” I asked, slamming the door shut.

He had a stick of beef jerky in his mouth, his head reclined and eyes closed. Wheeler had a large Adam’s apple, and I had an impulsive temptation to run my finger across it.

“Did you get your lady parts all taken care of?”

“Baby smooth. Wanna touch?”

His head bobbed up and he shifted in his seat, stepping on the clutch and firing up the engine. “Is this the fun I have to look forward to for the next week?”

I set my purse on the floor. “Would you rather I be doing something more dangerous to keep things exciting?”

He bit off the end of his stick and chewed. “Maybe.”

An old man with a poodle lollygagged in front of the car, looking around as if searching for someone. I stroked my bottom lip with my finger, contemplating something Reno had mentioned about Delgado orchestrating the kidnappings. The only problem was he didn’t have evidence to support his theory.

“Take me back to work,” I said.

Wheeler scratched his short beard. “I thought you were off?”

I touched my hair, playing with a dark curl. “I’m going to break into someone’s office. How’s that for a little danger?”

He threw the car in gear and scared the old man with a rev of his engine. “Say no more.”

“I would have never taken you for the kind who looks for trouble.” And I wasn’t being sarcastic. Lexi had always described Wheeler as the brains in the family—a former financial advisor who used to work for high-and-mighty immortals. But I couldn’t figure him out. Intellectual men weren’t usually thrill seekers, and vice versa. So who was the real Wheeler?

“I don’t look for trouble, kitty cat. I just take her out on a date every so often and show her a good time.”

I snatched the beef jerky from his hand and tossed it out the window. “Chewing on meat in public makes you look boorish.”

“That so? I’m sorry if I can’t be as sophisticated as some of the hoity-toity men you hang out with.”

“And I suppose I can’t be as submissive as some of the bitches you hang out with.”

Wheeler had his right hand on the steering wheel and peered over his shoulder at me. “Touché,” he said in a silken voice.

He turned onto another street, and I couldn’t take my eyes off his tattoos. I was tempted to trace my fingers across the patterns that blended into a uniform piece of art. Why would someone get so many tattoos and seal them with liquid fire? Alphas did it to be recognized, but most avoided the notion of tattoos. It was something humans did to be different, but we already
were
different.

“You can look at them if you want,” he said.

“Do you have them all over your body?”

I wasn’t a woman who blushed, but I did feel a subtle warmth rising in my cheeks. Could I have been less tactful? I risked a glance and saw he was focused on the road ahead.

“I have a few more,” he replied in words as thick as honey. Wheeler had a low register, but not overly baritone. Just a little smoky and mysterious, and only when he got upset did it sharpen in volume and clarity. There was power behind his words when he wanted there to be.

Why on earth am I sitting here thinking about his voice?

I fumbled with my purse and pulled out a stick of gum. “Would you like a piece?”

He snatched the stick and sniffed out a quiet laugh. “I never turn down a piece.”

“I see I’m rubbing off on you.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something and then snapped it shut.

I chewed on my cinnamon gum and leaned toward the window—the sunshine felt enormously wonderful. Days like this made me regret my panther couldn’t bask in the warmth of a summer’s day. A truck pulled up beside us and the guy did a double take. His friend leaned over and smiled wide. Then the driver shaped his fingers like a V and put them under his mouth, flicking his tongue up and down.

“Working the pole tonight?” he asked.

“Not for you, sugar,” I said. “Why don’t you take that tip money you’ve been saving up and splurge on a bag of potato chips?”

I turned away and noticed Wheeler’s eyes were sharp and fiery as he leaned across the car, checking out who I was talking to.

“They recognize me from work,” I said smoothly. “I get that every so often from the cheap customers who like to make me work extra hard for their dollar.”

“How ’bout you roll up your window and I won’t have to come over there and crush your skull?” Wheeler barked at them.

“Please, just ignore them.” I touched his arm, which extended in front of me and gripped the door.

Without thinking, I traced my index finger over a chain inked on his bicep that circled around but didn’t close. The final link was broken. Near it was a wolf. Tribal patterns and images created a visual display, and I noticed his right wrist had a thick band around it. My God, these were the sexiest things I’d ever seen.

His skin felt nice beneath my fingertips. Wheeler’s eyes slanted my way, and he was only a few inches from my face—so close I could smell him.

“You should tell me about these sometime,” I said, still outlining one of the tribal patterns with my finger. “I’d love to know why you chose to hide beneath all this ink.”

He suddenly wrenched away. “You think I’m hiding? This is me, inside and out.”

“You really want people to believe that, don’t you?”

Something flashed in his eyes before he looked down, but I caught it. Wheeler switched on the radio and cranked up the volume. “It doesn’t matter what the world believes—it’s what I believe.”

***

When we arrived at the club, Wheeler remained quiet, shadowing me as I surreptitiously made my way through the back door using an emergency key. I waved at one of the girls coming out of the restroom and suddenly felt a flurry of nerves causing my heart to speed up. When I approached Delgado’s office, I turned the brass knob and found it locked.

“Damn,” I whispered. “Why did I think it would be that simple? What was I thinking?”

Wheeler knelt down and pulled out a slim metal stick from his wallet. “Turn around, sweetheart. Use your body to hide me.”

I snorted. “My body isn’t big enough to hide all of you.”

He put the metal pin between his teeth and tucked his wallet in his back pocket. “If your ass were as big as your mouth, I’d have all the privacy a man could afford.”

“Well then,” I purred. “Since there’s not much to look at…” I turned my back on him and leaned my left shoulder against the wall, doing my best to keep him hidden. Of course, that meant my derrière was about two inches from his face. Call it my subtle way of sticking it to a wolf.

He released a ragged breath and I peered over my shoulder, watching him pick the lock with a shaky hand.

“Is this what they teach in wolf business school?” I asked conversationally. “You sure are a jack-of-all-trades.”

“You’d be surprised what a man in my position has had to do.”

“Hmm,” I moaned, shifting my hips. “I’m quite familiar with that position, and I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would surprise me.”

I squeaked when he poked my bottom with the tip of his sharp object.

“Surprised?” he asked with a low chuckle.

“Hurry up,” I hissed. “Someone’s going to catch us.”

The door swung open and by the time I turned around, Wheeler was already inside. He poked his head out. “Are you waiting for the bus? Get in here.”

I rolled my eyes and closed the door behind me.

Wheeler folded his arms and lowered his chin. I studied his profile as he approached the mahogany desk. The lines in his face were sharp beneath his facial hair, giving him such a hardened appearance. It seemed contradictory to his soft lips and the intelligence brimming in his eyes.

“Whose office is this?” he asked, lifting an ivory figurine of an elephant from the desk. “Because he has shit taste.”

“Didn’t you read the sign on the door? This is Damian Delgado’s office—the owner of the club.”

Wheeler spun around. Then he took another careful look at the room, tugging at the fabric of his black shirt. “So this is where the big cheese hangs out,” he murmured.

“I think he might have something to do with the missing girls. You know the laws on slander; I can’t make an accusation without proof.”

He walked around the polished desk and sat in the brown leather chair. “What makes you think he’s involved?”

I placed my hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Because I’ve worked in dozens of clubs, and I know a thing or two about owners. They don’t like trouble, but if a girl goes missing, that’s something they would immediately address with the staff. I’ve never spoken to this man—he’s never
once
walked the floor. What kind of owner is that?”

“The
human
kind.”

I straightened up and my heart raced. “What makes you say that?”

Wheeler leaned back in the chair and put his black boots on the desk, crossing his ankles. “That’s the word, but I can see by the look on your face that it doesn’t come as a surprise. He’s been stirring up trouble in our world for years. Our laws protect humans, so we can’t take him down. He must have paid through the nose to buy up these joints. They make a helluva lot more than the human clubs; that’s just a fact.” He turned his arm slowly, looking at one of his tattoos twisting around like a vine.

I slinked around to the right side and bumped his chair so hard that his feet slipped off the edge of the desk. “This isn’t a day spa. Either guard the door like a good little wolf or help me.”

“Help you what?”

I knelt down and pulled open a lower drawer. “Look for incriminating evidence. Don’t you watch crime shows? Anything that looks suspicious.”

“A smart man doesn’t leave evidence lying around for someone to find.”

“Maybe he’s not a smart man. Search those drawers and I’ll look through these.”

Wheeler pulled open a drawer with a theatrical flick of his wrist. “Well, that sounds like a swell idea. What do we have in here? Oh, look. Pornography.” He held up an adult magazine at arm’s length and flipped open the page. “This position looks awfully incriminating to me.”

“Why don’t you take it home and study it under a magnifying glass?” I suggested while digging through a stack of papers. I carefully put them back and noticed a small book with leather binding and a narrow strap that clipped shut. When I opened it, the pages were filled with contact numbers and notes.

“It says here that Jenny likes puppies, baking sugar cookies, and—”

“Spreading her legs in a national magazine? Classy.”