Veiled Target (A Veilers Novel) (2 page)

“How’s the hero?” Gavin asked, taking a seat in one of the two leather armchairs on the other side of the desk.

“Tired. In need of a fucking vacation.”

He and Gavin Rhoades were partners in Langston Aviation, the helicopter company Hugh had started on his own a decade ago. Gavin had joined five years ago to boost onshore charter services for business clients. His excellent communication skills—charm, if you asked him—kept the company much busier than Hugh’s offshore and emergency response flights.

“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.

Chapter Two

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.

The thought made her madder than hell.

Maybe a night out would help. Make her forget about her job and her promise. Away from work and extreme sports, she might feel like a normal girl.

She bounded up from the bed and took one more look at herself before heading out the door. “Guess I’ll see you guys later.”

“Or maybe not. Have fun!” Francesca called.

“I slipped a couple frangers in your purse!” Kensie added, a schoolgirl giggle following.

Great.
Tess had condoms in her purse. In thirty minutes, she’d be sitting in a bar across from a total stranger thinking about a possible sex connection if nothing else.

She kept the speedometer of her BMW to the posted miles per hour—not an easy task, but she already had one too many speeding tickets—and drove around the block a few times to check out the restaurant before parking. When she entered the bar, she noted the burgundy walls, dark wood furnishings and oversized chairs. A low hum filled the airspace. A few heads turned her way.

One booth remained available at the far side of the room, so she grabbed it. She scooted along the leather upholstered bench seat and decided to order a drink while she waited. Her mouth was dry, her throat parched. And her deodorant was not living up to its promise.

I can jump out of an airplane, no problem, but I can’t meet a guy without sweating. Freaking get over it.
“Whatever you’ve got on tap please,” she said to the ponytailed waitress who stopped by the table.

A glance at her cell told her her date was late. She drummed her fingers on the polished wood table deciding if he didn’t show, she’d eat and drink, watch the people around her, then leave. Go home to an empty bed. No biggie.

So why were nervous tremors ticking at the side of her neck? Why did she shift uncomfortably in her seat?

Because it did matter.

She wanted a date.

Jason had been her first love. They’d met in foster care and instantly bonded. First as friends, then as more. When she’d been recruited by P.I.E. at sixteen, the secrecy of the organization had taken her away from him. But less than a year later, he’d found her surfing the waves of Malibu Beach one foggy Sunday morning. He’d turned eighteen, was on his own and still made her heart skip a beat.

Tess hated keeping her occupation from him, but followed protocol during the next five years they shared together. He believed she was a production assistant, her irregular hours and time away due to film shoots, not missions. When he’d surprised her with a diamond ring and proposal on her twenty-third birthday, pure happiness had engulfed her. And she told him the truth.

One week later, a wolfen killed him.

She stared at the empty space across from her. Pictured the last smile he’d dazzled her with. Good memories hadn’t erased the guilt festering inside her. Blame still wove an intricate path through her soul. She hated herself because even without proof, she knew her job, and his knowing about it, had contributed to his death.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the restaurant door swing wide. A small group of college students in UCLA sweatshirts entered. Her gaze followed them to the bar while she thought wistfully about what it might have been like to attend a university. Study marine biology like she’d always wanted to.

Unsure how long she stared, she panned back to the entrance and spied a ruggedly handsome man with chestnut hair that was more long than short, a strong jaw and a mouth so sinfully appealing she gulped.

She dropped her perusal to his black leather jacket, trim waist and long jean-clad legs. When she looked back up, she found his eyes trained on her.
Wow.
A shiver raced through her body. The sounds in the bar immediately vanished. All she could hear was the beating of her heart. Was that Trey?

Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t look away as he approached. His eyes held hers with commanding authority and she never backed down from a challenge. Forget that their azure color was crystal clear and they held a sort of animal magnetism. If Tess didn’t know better, she’d say he wanted to devour her.

Holy shit.

“You must be Tess,” he said, sliding into the booth across from her. His voice was like dark chocolate and honey. Rich, warm, golden. “I’m…Trey.”

Umm, yeah. But hell if she could make any coherent sound. Instead, she took in his broad shoulders, tousled hair, leather scent. When her gaze met his steely blue one again, he seemed to read her like an open book.

“You are Tess,” he repeated. Not a question. A statement. That totally unsettled her and shook her from the trance he’d somehow cast. She’d never met anyone who knew her before being properly introduced.

“Yes, sorry. Nice to”—she thrust her arm across the table—“meet you.”

His hand enveloped hers and thanks to static electricity, included a shock that made her flinch and whip her arm back. A noise escaped her lips that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. She did not giggle. Not like that.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He slouched against the back of the booth, the wood panel behind his head separating them from the next table.

Nope. The pleasure was not all his. If the tiny bursts of tingles thrumming through her body didn’t mean pleasure, she didn’t know what did. Scratch that. She knew exactly what did. It had just been a long time since the pleasure wasn’t a result of extreme physical exertion.

She directed her attention to the eatery, privately insisting he was not the best thing she’d ever seen. “Nice place. Do you come here often?” Could she sound more clichéd? She’d been out of the dating world for so long, she had no idea what to talk about.

“Often enough, but I’ve never sat across from such a beautiful woman before.” His eyes searched past her and he waved a hand. The waitress made a beeline to their table.

“What can I get you?” she asked, slightly out of breath.

“I’ve already got a beer coming.” Tess looked at the waitress with raised eyebrows. How long did it take to get a beer? She needed it. Like now. Beautiful? Her? Smooth talker. She didn’t care that it was probably a line.

“Make it two then.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a quirk of a smile that was far too dangerous for her liking.

She kicked off her shoes under the table and slid one leg beneath her bottom. He looked awfully comfortable and for the first time in far too long, Tess forced herself to relax as well. She took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice the rise and fall of her chest. Blind date jitters were not something she was familiar with. Certainly no man had ever made her feel this restless.

“I would have guessed you a scotch man.” She set her sights back on him and her stomach flipped. Hungry. She was hungry.

“Why don’t we just cut to the chase?” He leaned forward on his arms, hands clasped, the ease of a moment ago gone. There was no hint of playfulness in his expression, not an ounce of affection or desire on his part.

So Tess had no idea what the hell he meant. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. What exactly are you doing here?” He didn’t glare, but the narrowing of his eyes meant serious business.

“Isn’t it obvious?”
I’m here on a date you moron. And you’re about to ruin it.
Maybe Kensie and Francesca had lured him here under false pretenses? From the look on his face, the last thing he wanted to do was get chummy.

“I need you to spell it out for me.”

“Really? You look like a pretty intelligent guy to me.” This bonehead had obviously never been on a blind date before. Hell, she had never been on one, so who was she to spout the rules? Yet she still knew to be cordial. What had flipped this guy’s switch?

The waitress delivered their beers with a smile and lingered for a moment to gawk—yes, gawk—at her date. Tess cleared her throat to get the woman’s attention. “Thanks.”

The girl came to her senses and mumbled she’d be back to take their dinner order. Right. Tess would be lucky to finish her beer before bolting from Mr. Coulda-Been-One-Night-Wonderful.

Something changed in his demeanor then. His tight jaw relaxed. The intensity in his stare lessened. She heard him take a deep breath as he eased away from the tabletop. His chest remained puffed out; he wasn’t backing down, but retreating some. He’d obviously realized his slightly hostile tactics wouldn’t get him anywhere.

He lifted his beer and took a long, slow drink. When he replaced it on the table, the glass was half full. Tess picked up her drink and matched his swallow, her amber ale leveling off halfway down. While silence passed between them, she was painfully aware of his presence and tried to decide whether to say goodbye or wait to see what his change in attitude would offer.

She settled on waiting. A normal girl would stay. A girl who didn’t wear false bravado and eliminate Veilers for a living would stay. And most importantly, a girl who hadn’t been kissed in five years would stay. Maybe she’d misunderstood his rudeness. She lowered her leg and leaned over the table, elbows on top, palms flat against each other. His next words would make or break the date.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never been on a blind date before,” he muttered.

“Me neither. So we’re even.”
Apology accepted
.

Although they’d just met, she had a feeling he’d equal her in ways she found most appealing. His leather jacket hinted at adventure. His tan skin and solid build led her to believe she’d find him atop a mountain or in the wild surf of the Pacific just as often as she liked to be in those places. A burst of want stirred inside her.

“What made you agree to come?” He fingered the menu before him, as if deciding whether or not he wanted the date to continue through dinner.

“My two demon roommates. They threatened to do something hellish to me if I didn’t get my ass back in the dating game.” She leaned back and brought her arms to her sides, resting her hands on the leather seat.

His beer glass clinked his front teeth as he clumsily pulled it from his mouth and choked down the draft. “Demon? I beg your pardon?”

Interesting. She’d meant it as a joke, but his reaction made her think they might have even more in common. Did he know about Veilers? His attempt at hiding his response faltered and she decided to press a little further.

“Don’t worry. They’re not really demons. Although if I seriously thought about it, there are certain times of the month when I think the devil himself is pulling their strings.”