Wolfen (16 page)

 
Just me
, she thought wryly. “Actually, I couldn't verify the one you told me about. As soon as I started asking questions everyone started backpedaling. Depending on who you ask, nobody got bitten, it was somebody's dog, or it was a wild dog. And nobody seems to remember who it was that supposedly got attacked. These aren't dogs, though. I managed to bring one down with a tranq and examined him. I haven't managed to get that close to any of the others, but I've been close enough for a visual identification. It's wolves—big wolves, and damned canny—twelve to fifteen in the pack, maybe more. I haven't been able to get close enough to determine the exact number."

 
"So ... you're saying you don't think they're a threat?"

 
Danika wrestled with her reluctance to say anything that might convince the game commission to destroy the animals. “They're out of their natural habitat and it's a big pack. There's a potential for trouble."

 
"But no actual, verified, reports?"

 
Danika frowned. “Where are you going with this?"

 
"I'm not sure I can authorize the expense of a clean up without a solid reason behind it—like an attack. We're talking a lot man power and a lot of money to trap that many wolves and relocate them."

 
Danika mulled that over with mixed feelings. “They're out of their natural element here and that always means trouble,” she responded finally. “Even if there haven't been incidents, yet, there will be ... eventually."

 
She could almost visualize his shrug. “And the chances are nobody's going to want to move on this until and unless that comes about."

 
"The trouble is the chances are better than even that the problem will be an even bigger one by that time. They'll be breeding."

 
"I'll take that under advisement. When do you expect to get the full report to me?"

 
She'd been dreading that question. “I should be able to wrap up my findings in another week or so,” she hedged.

 
"Good! A week then."

 
"Shit!” Danika exclaimed when she'd hung up. At the rate she was going her report was going to be completely hypothetical with the bare minimum of actual facts. She should've told him two weeks, she reflected glumly. But then she'd been afraid he'd pull the plug altogether and inform her they didn't have enough money in the budget to cover a long range study. Her preoccupation with the members of the biker gang wasn't helping. Neither was the fact that they seemed to have decided it was their ‘duty’ to protect her.

 
She couldn't think what to do about them if they didn't just decide to move on and/or stay out of her business. It wasn't as if she could lodge a complaint with the cops. What could they do when the gang hadn't actually broken any laws? And considering the way the local law had acted toward her, she doubted they'd even bother to have a talk with the bikers.

 
Let alone, she didn't think any of the gang would pay any attention to a ‘warning'. They certainly hadn't paid her the least attention when she'd cussed them out for their interference!

 
And that was just one side of the problem. They didn't
have
to actually interfere to be a distraction. Ordinarily, even as good looking as they were, she thought she would've been able to pretty much ignore them and go about her business, but their interest in her was making that harder than it should've been.

 
She was still angry with Con—damn his hide! She supposed it was fairly typical human behavior that the moment the immediate ‘threat’ had passed she'd begun trying to reason her doubts away and become intrigued all over again, but it was damned inconvenient! If she could've just put all that fabulous sex from her mind and focused on the downside of what he'd done she would've been far better off. Even the distraction of anger and/or fear would've been better, but she hadn't been able to hang on to those emotions despite her best attempts to keep the fire going. Remembering the way he'd made her feel was slowly but surely eroding her resolution to steer clear of him—all of them.

 
A wild fling with potentially deadly consequences should have sobered her, brought her feet firmly back to earth. It had, briefly, but almost the moment she'd touched down she'd begun trying to convince herself that she didn't really have to worry about the consequences—partly because she didn't want to worry and partly because she'd had a taste of heaven and she wanted
more
.

 
They were young enough, handsome enough, and certainly charming enough to be players—if it looked like a duck and quacked like a duck, it was probably a duck! They hadn't really acted like players when she'd first met them, though. As soon as they'd sat down with her they'd seemed completely focused on her. They hadn't given more than a passing glance to any of the other women in the diner. As unsettled as she'd been, she would've noticed if they had. It might actually have made her less uneasy if they
hadn't
seemed so focused on her. She wasn't used to being the center of so much appreciative male attention. She'd had
dates
whose roving eyes made it nearly impossible to carry on a damned conversation!

 
They
didn't carry stds, according to Con.

 
If they'd been nasty and sleazy she'd wouldn't have believed that reassurance for a moment. She shouldn't have anyway. A person could look just fine and not be, she reminded herself, and then immediately contradicted herself with the reflection that there should've been telltale signs that weren't there.

 
Who was she kidding? She hadn't gotten them down and examined them, any of them, and certainly not Con. She'd been too focused on getting him inside of her as quickly as possible to think about anything else. This wasn't fantasy land, even though it felt like it! It was the real world.

 
Other people still took chances and rationalized it, she reminded herself and the truth was life would just stop if nobody ever took a chance on anybody.
Not
that she was in favor of taking unnecessary risks, but nobody ever really
knew
that the person they were with wasn't taking unnecessary risks—in marriage or a long term relationship. No matter how cautious a person was, it always eventually came to decision time—to trust or not to trust. Take the plunge and drop the shields? Or move on and hope you could trust the next person you got involved with?

 
The question was, could she trust her instincts or not? Were her instincts right? Or was want deafening her to the little voice that should be warning her?

 
Frustrated that she couldn't make up her mind as much as she was by the fact that she couldn't get her head straight at all and focus on her job, she gave up on trying to work after a little while, deciding a trip to town might help clear her head. She could pick up the things she'd forgotten during the last trip and treat herself to a dinner out. She could only tolerate just so much of her own cooking.

 
Her timing sucked, she discovered, but then she should've been used to that. It seemed she'd always been out of step with the rest of the world—except in this case she actually landed in sync, arriving at the grocery store in time for hump days specials that had brought in almost as many people, or more, than weekend shopping. People almost looked like they were stocking up for a hurricane or something the way they were filling their buggies.

 
Shrugging it off after a moment, she chanted her short list in her head until she'd managed to fill it, ignored the temptation to grab a couple of the two for one half gallons of ice cream, mostly because the refrigerator in her rental wasn't big enough to hold one, and headed to check out.

 
It was almost dusk when she'd stowed the bag in her truck. Parking seemed to be a little bit of a problem, though, and she was only a little over a block from the diner. She decided to walk instead moving the vehicle.

 
It was one of those decisions she usually regretted. As short as the walk was, it took her past the local watering hole, which seemed to be hopping. Her heart skipped a beat when she glanced casually in that direction as she neared it and caught a glimpse of a couple of motorcycles. Trying to convince herself that it wasn't
their
motorcycles, trying to maintain the appearance that her glance was
still
casual, she looked closer as she passed a large tree and a parked truck and could get a better view.

 
She got a better view than she'd wanted. Not only was it
their
motorcycles, but they were sitting on, or propped against them, and there were women draped all over them like Spanish moss. She checked for just a split second then poured on a little more speed, trying to look as if she was merely walking briskly, not running, but it was enough.

 
The second time she looked, she not only locked gazes with Balin for a handful of heartbeats, she caught a glimpse of the others as they lifted their heads and looked right at her. One of them called out to her—Con, or maybe Balin. She wasn't sure. Her heart was hammering so loudly in her ears with distress that she didn't know for certain. She couldn't resist responding, though. Con and Balin had both climbed off their bikes and were both looking directly at her, so she still didn't know which of them had called out when she'd looked. She didn't stop. She didn't think she could handle an encounter with any of them at the moment. Instead, she threw up a hand, waved gaily, and walked a little faster.

 
"Fuck!” Balin ground out, peeling the werefemale off of him again, shoving her away, and striding after Danika as she rounded the corner and disappeared. Con fell into step beside him several moments ahead of the others.

 
"I think she's pissed,” Con muttered.

 
"You think?” Balin snapped irritably.

 
"What the hell was with them, anyway?” Dakota growled as he joined them. “They haven't even gone through first transition, yet. They couldn't be in heat, could they?"

 
"Doubtful,” Xavier concluded, nodding. “They're probably just stirred up because it's getting so close to the full moon."

 
"Either that or the rogue leader set them on us hoping to distract us,” Jared said pointedly, catching a sharp look from the others.

 
"Shit!” Con ground out. “I thought their interest was sudden. You think the rogue alpha knew Danika was in town?"

 
"She came from the direction of the grocery store. If she was in there long there was plenty of time for her presence to be noted and the alpha notified,” Dakota said grimly.

 
When they rounded the corner, they discovered Danika had vanished. They halted abruptly, glancing quickly around the street and into the surrounding buildings.

 
"She's in the diner,” Balin said grimly.

 
"And, unless I miss my guess, he's got his greasy fucking paws on her,” Con growled.

 
Danika was in such a state she was working on autopilot. She'd set out to go to the diner, and she went, pushing through the door and looking around the restaurant as if she had no idea how she'd gotten there. The man who jostled her and then caught her shoulders to steady her looked familiar, but she couldn't place him.

 
"You alright?"

 
Danika frowned at him uncomprehendingly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run into you."

 
He smiled. It wasn't a particularly friendly smile, though. Actually, it made a shiver run up her spine, but she was in too much turmoil to pin down what it was about him, or at least his smile, that set off warning bells in her head.

 
"I'm not. It gives us a chance to meet. My name's Claude."

 
Danika blinked at him, trying to summon her manners and finally managed a smile. “I've seen you before,” she said slowly.

 
"Could I buy you dinner?"