Predator's Claim (3 page)

“Bart?” she whispered.

“Did you say something?” Dylan asked.

She turned quickly toward him and then back to the wolf, but the animal had disappeared. Keeping an eye on the trees around them, she trudged in the snow toward her cabin in silence.

Which made the lonely howl of a wolf ring ever clearer in the clean, country air.

Chapter 2

A couple of days after Charlotte’s arrival, Bart hung back in the resort security office after his shift, staring out the window at the snow-covered ground. He knew he should go say hello to her. After all, they’d been colleagues for years. Colleagues would greet each other after an absence, right? And that’s exactly what he’d hoped to do the day she’d arrived. He’d headed down to the dock upon hearing the motor of Lex’s boat, ready to face the woman who, like it or not, had tormented his dreams for far too long.

And had seen her with a man. Some good-looking, clean-cut, fresh-from-the-city man who probably had lots of fancy degrees and an even fancier wardrobe under his tailored coat. Bart had promptly shifted into his wolf and turned tail.

He hadn’t gone looking for her since, and their paths hadn’t crossed yet. Clearly she hadn’t gone looking for him either, no doubt far too occupied with her city boyfriend. It hadn’t stopped him from feeling as if he were teetering on a very crumbly precipice.

He stared out the window and scraped his fingernails up and down his thighs. “This is ridiculous. She’s a friend. Just say, ‘Hey, Charles. Wanna get a drink?’” They’d had plenty of drinks together before. No reason they couldn’t chat like normal people.

Only they weren’t so normal, and neither was their friendship. From day one, it had been fraught with a sexual tension so bad it felt as if he had a spider inside his head, scratching, itching. Laying lusty eggs of avarice, just threatening to burst open his brain.

“Oh, damn it to hell.” He yanked open the security office door and tramped outside, kicking the snow with his favorite Kodiak boots. He marched into the lodge and stopped inside the main entrance. Bart chose a quiet spot a few steps from the door, closed his eyes, and inhaled on a long breath.

Her scent wafted on the air toward him, teasing from the hallway leading to the main floor suites. Clenching his fists, he fought the urge to fall to his knees. Her womanly perfume acted as a strong drug in his system, causing his pulse to jolt and stir and making his lips dry out from thirst. She still smelled the same: soft baby powder overlying her musky woman’s heat. Absolute decadence.

He opened his eyes and his feet lead him down the hallway toward her. About six suites in, her perfume smacked him and he heard her softly humming as she tidied the suite. Moving quietly, he stopped outside the door and poked his head around the corner.

Shit
. How was it she looked cuter than the vision in his dreams? Wearing her sweet little maid ensemble of a black ruffled dress and a white apron and cap, she looked like a pretty doll. She’d tucked her ebony hair up under her cap, and a few strands wisped around her face. Encased in black tights, her shapely legs seemed to go on forever, despite her petite stature. She wore those lace-up granny booties she wore with so many of her outfits. For some strange reason, those Victorian booties never failed to give him a raging hard-on, and they did now.

She wore headphones, oblivious to him as she listened to some music. With his superior hearing skills, Bart tuned into it. When he heard the song, he felt his face erupt in heat. Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir”. He couldn’t mistake the driving beat for anything else. A couple of years ago, he’d made a mixed CD of his favorite 70s rock and she’d liked it so much he’d given it to her. It seemed she kept it. He smiled, and his wolf stood at attention inside him, sniffing madly, wanting her.

He knocked on the door, loudly enough so she’d hear it over the music. She jumped and turned to face him.

The dark pupils in her silvery eyes dilated and her lips curled up. She removed her headphones. “Bartholomew.”

“Charles.” He grinned, his heart pounding. “How’s it hanging?”

“If I’ve told you once, Bartholomew, I’ve told you a hundred times. It’s Charlotte, not Charles.” She smiled, her lids lowering. “Do I look like a boy?”

Fuck, no, but he loved getting her to say that. He walked into the room and leaned against the doorjamb. “Some things never change. Even our banter.”

“That’s because you persist in calling me stupid names, cumwad.”

“Oh, and cumwad isn’t stupid? I would have expected better from such an educated woman.” He stepped closer, chuckling, bringing him fully into the realm of her trance-inducing perfume. “So, a lecturer. Congratulations. I guess you have a lot of initials after your name now, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah. Such an impressive degree. A master’s in religious education. I’m only qualified to be two things: a lecturer and…hmm, let’s see. A fucking maid.” She giggled.

He watched how her chest rose and fell with her laughs but met her gaze again quickly. After a quiet moment, he spoke. “It’s good to see you again, Charles.”

“Yeah, you too,” she whispered, looking intently at the bottle of Windex in her hand, almost as if it were a life preserver in a stormy sea.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with being a maid, but I’m glad to hear you got something good in your field. You worked hard to get where you are. I’m proud of you. I guess all those late nights studying in the pub paid off?”

“Yeah. Remember the time the bartender was called away for a family emergency and you and I filled in at the last minute? We didn’t know how to make any fancy drinks so everyone got beer, all night long. They asked for Cosmopolitans, we gave them beer. They asked for Tequila Sunrises, we gave them beer. I’ll never forget the look on that one prissy woman’s face. She said she only drank brandy
as a tonic
and you handed her a Heineken.”

“Fun night.”

“Right.” She fiddled with the screw top on the Windex, seemingly fascinated by it. She finally looked up. “Hey, I heard it’s time for the annual Cairo family reunion. When does your pack descend?”

“Any minute now.” Despite his best efforts, his gaze strayed to her lips, so naturally pouty they’d cause Angelina Jolie to holler for a plastic surgeon. Her pale lip stuff made them shimmer, and he could smell its fruit punch flavor, so tasty it made his head swim a little. He reached for the dresser and leaned on it to steady himself. “You should come to the welcome party tomorrow night. We’re taking over the resort pub. Ryland let us have it for the night. Maybe you and I could serve up some Heineken again. My mom would be happy to see you, too.”

She grinned. “I like your mom. Sure, I’ll come.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle a little more in that moment. “But only if you research the recipe for a Long Island Iced Tea for me.”

He bit his bottom lip as an unsavory memory hit him. “Are you sure you should be drinking those? They go right to your head. I’ve seen what they do to you.”

Her laugh carried a slight bitterness to it. “Okay,
Dad
. Make it a milk on the rocks then. Boy, Bart, you still get off on playing fun police, don’t you?”

“There’s a reason for it. Remember the last time you drank those things here? Marv and Jay in Facilities still aren’t talking to each other because each one thinks he’s your boy toy of choice.” As he frowned, his scar pained him. He gave the old blemish a rub. “You don’t realize the effect you have on men, Charles. You need to be more careful.”

Her eyes widened. “So it’s
my
fault Marv and Jay suffer from delusional thinking?”

“Yes. No. Okay, maybe. A little.”

“Well, that logic is right out of the middle ages.” She touched her belly with a dramatic flourish. “Let me check to see if I brought my chastity belt with me. Fuck, you sure do love a lecture. Maybe you should do my job.” She glared at him but then took a deep breath, clearly to manage her ridiculous temper. “Anyway, do you mind if I bring someone to the party? I’ve got…a friend staying with me.”

Oh, of course. The smarmy, don’t-get-dirt-on-my-designer-pants city dude. He’d been able to smell his attitude from miles away. “Who is he? How did you meet him? Because you know Ryland has rules about who comes to this resort.”

“Oh, my God. Would you lay off the damn rules for five seconds?” Her black brows met in the middle of her forehead, making an adorable furrow. “For your information, Dylan is a colleague and a shifter and won’t upset the delicate balance here on the island. Look, we can just skip the party if it makes you happy.”

His pulse sped up again and not in a good way. “That’s not what I…ah, forget it. You’ll just twist my words anyway, like you always do. Come to the party. Bring your
friend
. Drink a liter of Long Island Iced Teas. Get plastered. Whatever gives Charles the jollies.” He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but his voice had risen with each word.

“The jollies?” she yelled back. “Wolf man, you wouldn’t know the fucking jollies if they bit you on your furry ass. You’re such a goddamn Alpha, only happy when you’re bossing others around!”

Now that hit below the belt. “I’m no one’s Alpha,” he said, almost growling. He tried to grin to rein in the conversation, but was pretty sure he bared his teeth instead. “But if I were an Alpha, I would put you over my knee and…”

“And what, big man?” She cocked a brow at him. “Teach me some discipline?” Her curled lip, so redolent of sweet gloss, said,
Go ahead. I dare you
.

Bart stepped forward, his fingers positively itching to claim her soft skin. But as soon as he moved forward, he took a step back again. What was he thinking, indulging in this ludicrous conversation with a ludicrous woman? He did his best to offer Charlotte some valuable advice, trying to look out for a fellow wolf, and she insisted on throwing it back in his face. There was no denying it. She drove him nuts and always would. He could never be with a woman like her. She’d spend her days edging him toward the cliff of insanity. Let her pester her friend Dylan instead. May they be very happy together.

“Well?” she taunted, hand on curvy hip.

He clenched his jaw so hard he was sure he’d broken off some tooth enamel. “Just…just come to the party. And Charlotte…”

“What?”

He stepped into the hallway and stared at her from there. “Be good. Okay?”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, even though she surely had a retort from the paleness of her face. Bart turned and marched away, and inside him, his wolf stomped and howled like a child having a tantrum in the supermarket candy aisle.

* * * *

He caught Ryland’s scent as it rushed up behind him. The bear man followed him as he trudged away from the lodge. Man, he loved how the folks at the Ursa basically operated as one big family unit, but some days he felt like the older brother who could never escape his pawing siblings. And after his altercation with Charlotte, he really just wanted to be alone with a tall bottle of something bad for his liver.

“Bart, hold up!”

He turned to see his boss headed toward him, making big footprints in the snow, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets. “Ry, if this can wait…”

“No, it can’t.” He reached him, took a deep breath, and began. “I just got a call from the mainland police. They were looking for you.”

“Do they want to lock me up? Because frankly, I could get off on some solitary confinement right now.”

Ryland frowned. “Jason Burns has escaped.”

For a good, long moment, Bart just stared at his friend. Processing this particular tidbit of information was like swallowing a large chunk of gristle; it remained lodged in his throat, making him want to hack and spew. “
The
Jason Burns? The one I basically put in jail?”

He would never forget the incident, even though it had been years. He’d been a young security guard working in town, fresh and eager, on his first job in an office building. Through the shifter grapevine, he’d heard about Jason Burns, a wolf shifter who’d knocked over a bank and killed a teller in the shuffle. The man fled the bank and made his way into the maze of buildings in town. On his rounds, Bart caught him lurking in the mailroom of his office and held him until police could arrive. As Burns had been taken away, yelling and struggling, he’d vowed to get revenge on Bart for hindering his escape.

Was it possible he’d held that grudge?

“The one and only.” Ry put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, bud. It seems they were transferring him from one prison to another because of overcrowding. Someone made the mistake of putting him in a van with two human guards, rather than shifters. He overpowered them, knocked them out cold, and escaped. The police think he’s headed north because he has family in the area who might shelter him.”

“And because I’m here.”

“Let’s just say the police want us to be extra vigilant right now. I’ve already called in some extra security people, and the cops are going to set up a command post here on the island. It’s entirely possible Burns will just go on his merry way, but if he decides he wants to pay you a visit, we’ll make sure he doesn’t go anywhere near you or your family. I know this couldn’t happen at a worse time, with your family reunion about to start.”

And Charlotte. With Charlotte being back on the island, he wouldn’t have a single moment’s peace, even if she did make him want to do himself a mischief. “Ry, I know I’m officially on vacation right now, but if it’s all the same to you, I need to stay in the loop.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He offered him a friendly smile. “Look, this might end up being a whole lot of nothing.”

“And it might not.” He considered how badly Burns might want to take a shot at him, the man who’d delivered him to police. Hell, if he were Jason Burns, he’d still be pissed. Either way, he’d have to ensure his eyes stayed open and his ears remained firmly on the ground. He wouldn’t let scum like Burns get anywhere near someone he loved.

“Anyway, you might want to call the police and get the whole story from them.”

“I’m on it. Thanks, Ry.” He walked away toward the security office, his mind whirring with possibilities, each one more villainous than the last.