SEAL Wolf In Too Deep (8 page)

Allan raised his brows a little. “What if I wanted to turn you to make you my mate?”

She smiled as if she rather liked the idea. “I might just bite you right back.”

“That's all part of being a wolf.” Then he let out his breath. “About tonight…”

She knew before he said it that he wasn't staying with her tonight. He was backing off from getting too involved, and she couldn't help but be disappointed. “Yeah?”

“I need to stay closer to home, but I'm calling the sheriff's office to make sure someone drives by to check on you every once in a while.”

“I'll be fine, Allan. Really.” But she knew he'd call it in anyway. And she had to like that he still worried about her, even if things were cooling off between them again.

* * *

After ensuring some of his law enforcement friends would check on Debbie periodically, Allan drove to Paul and Lori's cabin on the lake. He really hated leaving Debbie alone, partly because he wanted to be the one protecting her and partly because he wanted to just plain be with her. But despite how he wanted it, he knew this was the best for all concerned.

When he arrived at Paul and Lori's cabin, Lori fixed them dinner.

“Rowdy told Debbie we were part of a werewolf pack,” Allan told them.

“How did he come to that conclusion?” Lori asked.

Allan knew Paul and Lori would take Rowdy's claim seriously, even if most people would think he was just having some lighthearted, storytelling fun. If Rowdy mentioned it to the police, they'd rib him mercilessly. But it was still a concern for the pack. Allan explained all that Debbie had told him.

“He told Debbie, not you though,” Paul said thoughtfully, setting the table.

“Maybe he thought I'd turn all wolf and that would be the end of him.” Not that Allan was being serious about it.

“He had to know she'd tell you. He must have figured she'd get a kick out of it,” Paul said.

“Right, just what I had assumed. Which means he wants to see how we react to Debbie's claim.”

“I wonder if he's armed with silver bullets.” Lori served up the rolls while Paul dished up the bowls of chicken and dumplings.

Allan stoked the fire, thinking how nice it would be to have one going at his place while Debbie sat with him on the couch. “Ah, but he believes any bullets will kill us.”

Paul set beers on the table for him and Allan, then returned to the kitchen to get a glass of milk for Lori. “True. Just like silver bullets can kill humans. Your reaction to Debbie was fine. As far as Rowdy goes, I'd just ignore it. Just be your normal self around him and Debbie. There's not much else we can do for now.”

Allan joined them at the table. “I agree. I was just a little surprised. Not often does someone believe the evidence points to werewolves.”

“I'm sure he's just pulling our legs. Coming up with bizarre explanations for bizarre circumstances. But even if he did believe we're werewolves, I'm sure he realizes we're some of the good guys.” Lori took a roll and passed around the platter.

“True. I just wanted to make you aware of it to alert the pack members, in case we have any trouble with him. I can see him putting surveillance on us.” Allan eyed the roll. “Fresh baked.”

“Only for you,” Lori said.

Paul grunted and began to coat his roll with gobs of butter. “She made them for me.”

She was watching Paul, then pointed her knife at his roll. “Do you have enough butter on your roll?”

When Allan had shared meals with Paul, they always had to get an extra tub of butter—the large variety.

“He'd have us under surveillance during the full moon especially.” Lori peered into the empty butter container.

Before she got up from the table, Allan said, “Do you have another tub of butter?”

“In the fridge, thanks.”

He went to get it. “Wouldn't Rowdy be surprised to learn we don't have to shift during the full moon but can do it at any time.”

Lori shook her head. “He may be rethinking the lore, if he truly does believe we're wolves.”

“So if he truly believes, what then?” Allan set the new tub of butter on the table in front of Lori.

She opened the lid, giving Paul a look that said this tub was hers, and he smiled back. “We'll take care of Rowdy if it becomes a problem.”

“Turn him, right? We could use someone like him on the force and on our side.” Allan thought it could work, particularly since Rowdy had no family to speak of.

“Yes. I agree.” Paul winked at Lori, and she relented, giving him the new tub of butter. At least it was for his second roll.

For three weeks, nothing happened. It was as if nothing had
ever
happened. No black sedan had been spotted. No more wolf killings. Maybe the killer had been disconcerted when he killed the wolves and they hadn't turned into humans. Maybe he hadn't realized the Cunningham wolf pack was located here and had just followed the dead woman.

As to the business with the man driving the red Camaro, no sign of it either, though everyone had been diligent about watching for it.

Allan was trying to be careful around Debbie, and he didn't like it. He couldn't tell her why he was backing away. Despite his behavior, Debbie was being really upbeat and good-natured about it, and trying to show it was no big deal. And that made the situation all the harder to deal with.

He could tell it did bother her, as evidenced by the way she averted her gaze at times when he caught her watching him, or when their hands touched or their bodies brushed against each other, and she'd pull away as if he'd burned her. It was killing him to treat her like she wasn't important to him, except as a partner. He knew kissing her had been a mistake, because that little kiss and everything that had led up to it had made him fantasize more than once about what becoming intimately involved would be like.

She'd invited him over a few times and he'd skillfully declined, sometimes because he had other commitments and sometimes because he was trying to put some distance between them. The problem was that he couldn't see her as just his partner or a human that he had no business getting involved with. He'd been short-tempered with Paul and his family too. They had tried to reassure him it was for the best, but he didn't need them telling him anything where Debbie was concerned.

It was time to meet her and Rowdy at the pizzeria for another Friday night “date.” For three weeks, they'd done this, and he'd hoped to dispel any notion that he and Debbie were an item.

He tried to think about the case, but the way this was going, he was afraid it would end up in the cold-case files before long. Unless the killer struck again. Although they certainly didn't want that either.

When Allan arrived at the pizzeria, he saw both Debbie's and Rowdy's vehicles. He had to remind himself they'd had fun every time they had met for dinner, though after the first time, Debbie had water to drink. Rowdy had asked her to go out with him a couple more times, but she still said no, to Allan's relief. The more he saw her and got to know her, the more he wanted to know her even better. He genuinely loved her company, her smiles, and her teasing nature, and he loved to tease her right back. He'd grown more lax around her, allowing more of his wolfish nature to show—the possessiveness, the playfulness, and the sexual overtures—although he shouldn't have. But she brought it out in him, and he had a hard time keeping his wolfishness under wraps around her.

That was the trouble when a wolf began to really get interested in a good prospect for a mate and the female wasn't a
lupus garou
. He'd even allowed himself to envision her being turned, of him doing the deed. That was a dark road he had to turn back from now.

Then right in the middle of refilling Allan's mug with beer, Rowdy asked Debbie out to dinner for Saturday night. And, hell, she looked at Allan, as if waiting for him to approve or get her out of it this time!

“We have a date tomorrow night at Captain O'Keefe's Seafood Restaurant,” Allan said, smiling a little at Rowdy and hoping Debbie wouldn't be annoyed with him for saying so. Of course he'd take her out, but that would just stir up things between the two of them again. Allan told himself he was just doing it to rescue her from Rowdy since he was trying to wear her down and she looked ready to fold. Or maybe she was playing her woman's intuition—women could be tricky like that—and forcing Allan to take a stand.

Rowdy lifted his mug of beer in a salute to Allan.

Allan raised his to Rowdy. He ventured a look in Debbie's direction. She'd folded her arms and was frowning at him.

Well, maybe they wouldn't really go out to dinner.

“I'll call you about tomorrow night,” he said.

Allan and Debbie had continued to arrive separately at the pizzeria. He thought she was trying to flirt with other dive team members who were single, but he could tell her heart wasn't really in it. He felt like a real heel, but what could he do about it? Nothing.

Rowdy shook his head. “See you all next week, if we're still on.”

“Sure,” Debbie said, smiling.

“Right. Next week,” Allan agreed.

Then he left and headed home. When he arrived at his cabin, he got a call from Debbie. “Listen, about tomorrow night—”

“When did you want me to pick you up?”

“I…don't want you to feel obligated.”

“I'd like to go out, if you'd like to.”

“Sure. Thanks for rescuing me from Rowdy. I don't think he believes you've had a change of heart about us, but I appreciate that you made the offer.”

Allan couldn't share how he really felt. How much he wanted to take her out. How much he wanted to stay with her afterward. She was like a drug to him, an addiction he couldn't give up.

“Would six be good?”

“Okay, see you then.”

Allan knew he shouldn't be doing this. He knew it, but he told himself there would be no harm in a little dinner date.

* * *

Late the next afternoon, Allan got a call from Rose. Every time he did, he worried she was going into labor. “I was looking over the applications—”

“You're not going into labor,” he blurted out.

Pause. Then Rose chuckled. “No. I guess every time I call, I need to preface the conversation with, ‘I'm not going into labor yet.' Every time I call anyone, I get the same panicked comment.”

Allan breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, you were going over applications from potential new members who want to join our pack and…?”

“I found one from around the time Lori and I discovered the dead woman. We've either met and accepted or rejected everyone else who sent one. Or they rejected us. I didn't think she could be the woman because she said she would check us out in a few weeks. But we found the dead woman only a few days after this was sent. So I didn't make the connection, thinking this Sarah Engle was still coming to see us in a few weeks. A few weeks have passed. Allan, I think…I think she might have been part of that LARP group in southern Montana that I went to check out.”

He sure hoped this was the break in the case that they so desperately needed. “Is that where she was from?”

“On her application, she said she was. I didn't see her with the group when I went down there, but under hobbies she said that she loves theater production and mentions LARP—not that particular group, just listed the acronym. So I'm thinking she could have been with Zeta's group. I told Paul and Lori, but he wanted me to call you and tell you everything I knew. He wants you to speak with Zeta Johansson, the woman who runs the group. I'd go because I've already met her before and she seemed to like me but—”

“You're due any day now. I'll go.”

Rose gave him the address. “Let us know what you find, all right?”

“I will.” Then he ended the call and looked at the clock. It was three already and it would take three hours in good weather to reach Helena. He'd have to see if he could schedule a meeting with Zeta for Sunday because of the lateness of the hour, the worsening weather, and his date with Debbie.

But then the name of the place jogged a memory. The dead man in the car submerged in the lake had stolen the car in Helena, Montana. What were the odds that two people from there weren't related somehow? Both murdered near Bigfork. Both from Helena. And murdered only a day apart. What if the murdered man had also been a member of the LARP group?

“Paul,” Allan said, giving him a call right away. “You're not going to believe this, but…”

This was it! Allan was finally taking the bull by the horns and asking her out. This would be their first real date, and Debbie couldn't have been happier and more excited about it. She spent the day doing laundry and cleaning the duplex, just in case Allan stayed the night. Not that she thought he would. But then again, she wanted to be prepared.

During the day, she'd gone over her wardrobe a million times. Nothing suited the occasion. Too flashy, like she was ready for a New Year's Eve party, or too dark and businesslike, as if she were a female detective on a TV series. Or too casual—soft, million times washed jeans. One dress looked too frumpy. Another like she was going to a church social. Maybe slacks. One pair was too baggy. Another too short-legged and tight. When had they shrunk?

She eyed her black jeans and a jade sweater that was so soft and cuddly. That would do. She threw them on and then considered her hair. Up and sexy, or was that too much like the way she wore it all day on the job?

Down and soft and curling about her shoulders? Despite how tipsy she had been the night she'd had the beer at the pizzeria, she had seen the look on Allan's face when she'd let her hair down—admiration. But was it sexier if he removed the barrette? That if they started kissing, she would go from polished to ready for some fun loving?

She never thought about her clothes or hair this much for a date. A little, sure, because she didn't want to be underdressed or overdressed for the occasion. But never all day, trying on clothes, taking them off. Trying her hair up, then down. Then up. Then down.

She groaned as she considered herself in the mirror. She wasn't going to the church to get married today. No one was going to take pictures of the date, capturing what she looked like for all time. And really? She didn't believe Allan would care. He'd seen her in frumpy and casual and nice, and he seemed to enjoy being with her no matter how she looked.

A knock at her door made her jump. She glanced at her watch. Either Allan was half an hour early, or someone else was knocking at her door. She hurried into the bedroom and grabbed her Glock from her bedside table drawer, then stalked toward the door.

When she reached it, she peered out. Rowdy was standing there. She frowned, worried he had bad news about the case. He couldn't be thinking of joining her on her date with Allan tonight. Maybe he had bad news about Allan.

Trying not to overreact, she opened the door and Rowdy smiled appreciably at her. “Now I
really
wish you had gone out with
me
on a date.”

“What are you doing here?” She hadn't meant to sound so annoyed, but she really didn't want Allan to see Rowdy here when he arrived.

“Allan said he might be late coming to pick you up. There's a massive pileup on the road he has to take after he leaves the mountain. Since I live in Whitefish, he called in a favor and asked if I'd pick you up and take you to the restaurant. He knew your car was in the shop, and he didn't want you out driving in this weather anyway.”

She wanted to groan out loud, but instead, she showed Rowdy in.

“I don't intend to join you for dinner, so you can't twist my arm or anything.” He smiled at her.

“Thanks, Rowdy. I…well, I—” She felt terrible that he continued to ask her out and she kept saying no, but then he would rescue her tonight. She felt she owed him a dinner.

“Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?”

“Coffee would be good. I came early because I wanted to make sure I got you to the restaurant on time. I'll hang around until Allan makes it.”

“Thanks, Rowdy. I really appreciate it.” She started a pot of coffee, then turned to face him. “Why didn't Allan call me or text or something?”

“He did. Or he said he did. You weren't answering.”

She patted her pocket, realizing at once that her phone was on vibrate and in the jeans she wore earlier today. “Oh, damn. Sorry.” She headed for her bedroom, pulled out the cell, and found she had ten missed calls and five text messages, all from Allan. She shook her head at herself, felt bad that she'd probably worried him, and called him right back.

“Hey,” he said. “I worried about you. Rowdy will be there to pick you up and take you to the restaurant. I'm on my way now, but I might be about five to ten minutes late.”

“He's here now. My phone was in another pair of pants. I'm so sorry, Allan.”

“No problem. He was happy to check on you and take you over there.”

“Should we invite him to join us for dinner?”

Allan didn't answer right away.

“It's up to you,” she added.

“Yeah, hell, sure.” But Allan sounded disappointed to have to make the offer. “It would be the right thing to do.”

“Okay. I'll tell him. See you in a bit.” Feeling horribly disappointed the way things were working out, Debbie ended the call and tucked the phone into her pocket, then returned to the kitchen where Rowdy was pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Cream?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah.” She went to get the cream. “Allan is on his way. He said he might be five to ten minutes late, and he wanted me to ask if you'd like to join us for dinner for all the trouble you've gone through to come and get me.” She handed Rowdy the creamer.

He poured the cream into his coffee. “Think nothing of it. I hope he'd do the same for me if the situation was reversed, and I definitely wouldn't barge in on a date. Besides, when you didn't answer your phone, he worried about you. Why didn't you tell me someone driving a black sedan had been following you? I'd have every one of them pulled over and the driver investigated.”

“It hasn't happened again. I think he must have left the area. And it might not have been anything. Thanks for coming by to check on me.”

“Any time. About the case, we'll get whoever was involved in both murders. I really thought we'd have more leads and have them wrapped up by now, but we'll learn the truth before we know it.”

“Do you still think the murderer of the woman was a werewolf hunter?”

“Yeah. And the other guy in the stolen car. Why else would they have guns loaded with silver rounds?”

“They were both crazy.”

Rowdy glanced at his watch. “It'll take me ten minutes to get you to the restaurant, and we'll make sure you get your table. Captain O'Keefe's is always busy on Saturday nights. I was surprised Allan could get a reservation at that late a date.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I'm a homicide detective. I saw the surprised, then relieved look on your face when he said he was taking you out. He hadn't planned it, just winged it, hoping you'd agree.”

“I…”

“When I say ‘relieved,' I mean that you were glad he finally asked you out. Hell, why do you think I keep asking you? Not that I don't want to take you out, but I've been attempting to give him an incentive to quit delaying the inevitable.”

“Even if he's a wolf with a wolf pack.”

“As many cases as Paul and Allan have solved, and people and animals they've rescued, they're some of the good guys. So if he's intent on making you his mate and you're intent on wanting the same thing, who am I to say what is right or wrong?”

She smiled and shook her head at Rowdy. “You're a good detective. And not bad at making up stories either.”

“The best when it comes to murder investigations,” he admitted freely. “But I don't mind saying I had hoped you'd dump him and start seeing reason and date me. Still, if you ever change your mind…”

“Thanks, Rowdy.” If she hadn't been so hung up on Allan, she might have been interested in dating Rowdy.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Rowdy was the perfect gentleman and waited with her at the table until Allan got there. He was fifteen minutes late, and she'd already ordered stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer and glasses of water to appease the waiter.

Rowdy didn't eat any of the mushrooms, though she'd offered. She felt uncomfortable eating in front of him when he wasn't even her dinner date. Allan called twice to let her know his progress. Two more accidents had caused massive slowdowns on the highway.

“Listen, if you get hungry, just go ahead and eat. Or if they're getting antsy about needing the table, go ahead and order me a salmon and—”

“I ordered stuffed mushrooms. We're good. I don't want to order your dinner and then have it get cold before you arrive. The waiter's been fine,” she assured him.

“All right. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Then five minutes later, Allan arrived looking like a SEAL on a mission, his expression dark until he spied her. Instantly he smiled, casting a glance at Rowdy. But he also took in the table arrangement—the glasses of water, hers half-empty, the other filled to the top. The one uneaten stuffed mushroom, her plate showing she'd used hers, the other completely clean.

Rowdy got up from the booth and shook Allan's hand. “Hey, you owe me.”

Allan shook his hand. “Thanks, Rowdy. I'm in your debt.”

“Thanks, Rowdy,” Debbie said. “Are you sure you don't want to eat with us?”

“Are you kidding?” Rowdy motioned to Allan. “He's a SEAL and knows more killer moves than I do, I'm certain. See you around.”

When he left, Allan took Rowdy's seat. “I'm so sorry. The weather has been so bad, there was a third pileup on the way here and cars sliding on ice everywhere. I was fortunate I made it.”

“We should have rescheduled once you had the first trouble near your house.”

“Are you kidding? Not when I'd gotten all dressed up to take you out. Do you know how hard it was for me to figure out what to wear?” He was wearing a pretty blue sweater and his usual blue jeans.

“I thought only women had that problem.” She figured he was teasing her as usual. She couldn't imagine he really had been indecisive about what to wear. “Rowdy was great about keeping me company. I'm just glad you got here safe and sound. I left you a mushroom, just in case you'd like one.”

Allan laughed. “One, eh? No one can eat just one.”

They both had roasted salmon and oysters, and Allan was glad he'd made the effort to get there, despite the road conditions. He kept looking at Debbie and thinking how truly beautiful she was, wearing the softest jade sweater, her dark hair curling about her shoulders. He planned to enjoy having dinner with her. He really was starving, and it had nothing to do with the oysters.

He was glad Rowdy had kept her company, and gladder still that he had left when Allan arrived. And yet Allan told himself this was really all wrong. He should have insisted that Rowdy stay and dine with them. He shouldn't have a first real date alone with Debbie. They were discussing the usual pleasantries, so the problem wasn't exactly the date, but what came next.

“Is your car still in the shop?” he asked.

“Yeah, bad alternator. I can pick it up Monday.”

It was probably good that she lived so far away. The thirty-minute drive meant he wasn't going to drop everything and run by her place because he was in the area, as much as he had wanted to on numerous occasions.

But now he had a new dilemma. He was probably going to stay the night with her, but he had made arrangements for late tomorrow afternoon to see Zeta about her LARP group. She had confirmed that Sarah Engle had been part of the group but was missing. Not only that, but when he showed a picture of the Van Lake murder victim to Rose, she acknowledged he'd been one of the players in the same LARP group. She didn't remember his name though. Was the one who had murdered the woman in the group too? They didn't have a photo of him that they could share with Zeta for confirmation.

After a great dinner, Allan drove Debbie home. On the way there, Debbie was watching out the window as the snowflakes hit the glass and the windshield wipers wiped them away. Out of nowhere she said, “I don't understand about the silver rounds. I mean, I do.”

He was surprised she was mentioning that now when they hadn't talked about the bullets in over a week.

“The nutcase is a werewolf hunter—has to be, because he killed a woman he thought was one, and he killed two wolves, all three riddled with silver rounds,” she continued. “And the bullets were all from the same gun. As for the dead guy in the lake—if the unregistered gun was his, what does that mean? He can't be the woman's killer because we found him before the woman was murdered. And the ballistics for the murdered woman and the dead wolves didn't match the gun in the lake. But it was also filled with silver rounds.”

Allan took a deep breath and let it out. “Right. What if there are two werewolf hunters?” He figured there wasn't any sense in trying to treat this like a normal case because it was anything but—even for
lupus garous
. So he might as well play along for a bit, fill her story full of holes, and hope they still could find the murderer soon. But initially, he hadn't considered the possibility of two hunters and the Van Lake murder being connected to the leghold trap murder.

“Okay. So a werewolf killed the hunter before he could kill any more werewolves. But the werewolf didn't want to take him down as a wolf, because that would prove they exist,” Debbie said.

“That's assuming that werewolves exist and the wolf that killed him wasn't a genuine wolf.”

She gave him a small smile as if she thought he was teasing her. “Right. But a wolf couldn't stage a car accident. Or”—Debbie paused dramatically—“he wasn't his mad-wolf self when he went to kill the werewolf hunter.”

“A werewolf has a mad-wolf self?” Now Allan was amused.

“Sure. In some of the old horror movies I watched, the werewolf would go on a rampage. He no longer could have any thoughts as a human and was a total beast of prey. And then he wanted to die because he didn't want to hurt the ones he loved.”