In the Crossfire (Bloodhaven) Read online

  She slowed down on reaching her front gates, a massive blend of stone and reinforced steel decked out with motion sensors. A palm scan and access code later, she was inside riding up to the main house. Security cameras followed her every step of the way.

  Her land might not be surrounded by barbed wire, but Isobel made sure that her house itself was a vault. It required various codes and verifications in order to enter different parts of the house. After all, if she wanted to kick back and enjoy the pleasures of home—and extend Naley that same safety—she damn well better have a well-protected home to do it in.

  It was one of the reasons Isobel had chosen to live outside the city. Sure, it required a commute to Bloodhaven whenever she had to get to HQ, but that was negligible in exchange for the privacy it offered. Liam was her only neighbor for miles around, and he was a quiet man who kept to himself.

  At the thought of Liam, Isobel glanced in direction of his cabin. The knoll her house was situated on provided enough of a vantage point. It was a distance away and completely enclosed in darkness now, but sometimes, when he had a light on at night and her bedroom window was open, Isobel could just make out the outline of his cabin.

  Isobel had initially been suspicious when he’d first approached her about renting the decrepit shack that the previous owner had left behind. Given the nature of what she did and the type of people she encountered on a daily basis, she’d naturally thought it was a ploy to get close to her, or at least get close to Council secrets.

  Despite herself, Isobel had been intrigued by the man.

  One might’ve thought Liam was simply reserved, but Isobel had seen through to what lay barely leashed beneath that unassuming demeanor. She knew there was more than meets the eye when it came to this wolf. More than he was telling, certainly.

  He’d had only the clothes on his back and a duffel bag in one hand when he’d approached her. When Isobel had questioned him, he’d said he was “traveling.”

  “And why don’t you just keep on traveling?” she’d asked flatly.

  Liam had merely shrugged. “Seems like a good place to stop.”

  She’d taken his prints to run through Council databases. If he was on the run, Isobel wanted to know about it.

  Suspicion turned first into surprise at what she found, then into interest. He was part of the Whelan clan, a pretty sizable wolf pack up north. One typically didn’t encounter many intact packs and prides nowadays—urban expansion being what it was—but apparently the Whelan clan was so expansive, and so insular, that it had essentially formed its own town, shunning interference from the nearest Council.

  Records showed Liam had lived amongst the pack nearly his whole life. His uncle was the alpha, but Liam wasn’t in direct line of the hierarchy. He’d made a decent living as a carpenter, and when the most recent human-shifter war hit, he’d enlisted.

  Isobel held a great deal of respect for those who’d served in the war. Not everyone made it out with their sanity intact.

  Especially those who’d been captured and held as prisoners of war for six months.

  Isobel had been curious about the redacted sections related to Liam’s service. The Council could usually access all manner of classified information, but even Isobel’s clearance level had failed to yield results. She’d contacted his former commanding officer on the pretext of getting a character reference, but although the general had spoken highly of Liam, he’d been very close-mouthed about Liam’s file.

  “I’m afraid that information’s classified,” he’d said over the phone. “Whelan was a good soldier. A good lieutenant. That’s all you need to know.”

  She could’ve pushed. She could’ve put in an official request to access the redacted information. She’d decided not to. Liam was an intensely private man, and what she’d gleaned so far was revealing enough as it was.

  He’d spent several months in a rehabilitation center recovering from his injuries before receiving an honorary discharge. He’d also been awarded a medal of valor and was, as described by the general, the best tracker in his unit.

  The man who’d approached her that first day had worn no medal or uniform, nothing but the dusty clothes he’d been traveling in and a multitude of scars. He’d looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

  Seems like a good place to stop.

  Isobel was always willing to give a shifter veteran a hand up. Her father had served in the third war before becoming a foreign ambassador, and she’d grown up seeing his own medal, very much like the one Liam had been awarded, framed upon the family mantelpiece. Still, she would’ve referred Liam to someone else with a room to rent if it hadn’t been for his offer to tend to her property as part of the bargain. That had sealed the deal at once.

  Working for the Council took up the majority of Isobel’s time, resulting in the grounds taking on a life of its own. She’d known she had to do something about it the day she came across a gorge at the base of the knoll, hidden by a spread of thickets. Naley had been due to visit in a month, and Isobel knew she’d never forgive herself if Naley had gotten hurt while exploring.

  So yeah, Isobel knew the shack had been in terrible condition. But if Liam insisted on living in it and was willing to care for the property in turn, she certainly wasn’t going to turn him down.

  Still, to assuage her guilt, she’d mentioned offhandedly to Liam that he could borrow some of her tools to repair the shack if he wanted. She had no such tools, of course; she went to the hardware store and bought whatever tools looked marginally useful, and lent those to him.

  She’d been impressed to observe, over the course of a few months, Liam not only managing to stabilize the flimsy shack but also repairing and building upon it to make it into the snug cabin it was today. It would never be anything more than a bachelor pad for a man with little interest in accumulating belongings, but Isobel never heard a word of complaint from Liam about it.

  The property wasn’t huge, and taking care of it wasn’t a full-time job. It hadn’t been long before Liam politely asked Isobel if he could hang on to her tools until he’d purchased his own. She’d told him to keep them. Hell, it wasn’t as if she was going to use them herself.

  Liam consequently set up an area next to his cabin where—when he wasn’t busy with groundskeeping duties—he worked on his carpentry. He began quietly making a few exquisitely handcrafted chairs for a furniture shop in downtown Bloodhaven. The quality of his work was such that word quickly spread among interior designers who catered to a specific type of clientele. Namely, the type that was only too willing to pay top-dollar for such one-of-a-kind exclusives.

  Yet despite the fact that Liam could’ve easily turned this into a lucrative business—and according to his file, he actually had, back before the war—he still used the owner of that same furniture shop as his only distributor.

  It made some sort of sense, Isobel supposed. She couldn’t picture him trying to deal with the public himself.

  He still kept everything pared down to a minimum. He did buy more tools to help with his work, and apparently managed to score a battered old truck for when he needed to purchase larger materials or deliver finished products. But his cell phone was prepaid, and he purchased no furniture that hadn’t already been there or that he couldn’t make himself.

  He took on nothing that showed signs of permanence. Nothing that could tie him down, no long-term investments.

  Maybe that shack-turned-cabin was a long-term investment in his eyes. He could’ve slept in a tent or underneath the stars—and from the state of him the first time she’d met Liam, Isobel suspected he’d done plenty of that—but instead, he’d taken the time and energy to improve that cabin. That surely had to say something. Isobel just didn’t know what.

  Still, she had no doubt that if Liam ever found a cave in the middle of nowhere with indoor plumbing, he’d pack his bag and be off in a flash.

  Isobel wondered how he’d handled this afternoon with Naley. She hoped the experience wasn’t enough to se
nd him running. He was bound to leave at some point, she knew. She just wasn’t ready for him to leave just yet.

  She shook her head at the thought, refusing to examine the reason behind it too closely. She had a go-to list to turn to whenever she felt the need. Liam Whelan was decidedly not on that list.

  He was off-limits. Hell, half the time he didn’t even meet her gaze when she spoke to him. And when he did, there was an odd intensity in his eyes, almost as if he was studying her, trying to make sense of her. Maybe committing her to memory for when he’d finally up and leave.

  Inside the garage, Isobel parked her bike and retrieved Naley’s belongings from underneath the seat. She’d made a stop at the girl’s school on the way home, finding her clothes and backpack by the bleachers next to the soccer field. A helpful classmate or coach must’ve put them there, because the clothes had been folded and there’d been a note with Naley’s name on them.

  She headed for the door that separated the garage from the main house. After scanning her prints and retina, she entered the locked entryway within where she keyed in her access code as well as passed the voice recognition system. If an intruder ever managed to get past the first round of security, he or she was guaranteed to be trapped inside the locked entryway until Isobel came to take care of business.

  The second she stepped into the hall, however, she scented the presence of two other people. Naley’s scent, she’d expected. The other gave her pause.

  She recognized that scent. She just hadn’t expected to find it within these walls.

  Isobel entered the living room. Naley was sprawled out on the sofa, tucked beneath an afghan while a movie played on the widescreen. A couple of plates, still bearing crumbs, rested on the coffee table.

  Liam sat in the armchair beside the sofa. His was the other scent Isobel had detected, a masculine sun-roasted cedar that was uniquely his.

  This was the first time he’d ever entered her domain.

  His eyes were already on her, immediately aware of her presence even though she hadn’t made a sound. He unfolded his tall frame from his seat and stood up to face her.

  Isobel removed her leather gloves with her teeth, never taking her eyes off him. Liam met her gaze squarely. Then a quick flicker, and his eyes fixed on a spot just above her right ear.

  “Hey there, Aunt Iz,” Naley called out, stifling a yawn. She shut off the TV.

  Isobel set Naley’s clothes and backpack down on the sofa next to the girl. Naley slowly sat up, tensing, but Isobel made no comment. Yet. She’d leave that talk for when it was just the two of them.

  She squeezed Naley’s shoulder, then glanced at the man standing before her. “Hello, Liam.”

  He frowned. Gunmetal eyes arrowed to first the cut above Isobel’s temple, then to the deep bruises along her cheekbone. His gaze flicked down for a quick perusal from head to toe, though it wasn’t as if he could’ve seen through her regulation uniform and detected any other injuries sustained. Isobel told herself that, yet heat blossomed on her skin all the same, his examination of her almost like a physical touch.

  Liam’s frown deepened as he studied her. Isobel supposed by most people’s standards, her condition would’ve been of some concern, but Naley had seen her come home in worse. Liam hadn’t seen her up-close and personal after a mission before. She hoped he wouldn’t get all uber-protective wolf on her, because she’d hate to have to hiss a warning after the kindness he’d shown her niece today.

  Brackets deepened on both sides of Liam’s mouth, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything.

  It really was a rather nice mouth.

  Off-limits, Saba.

  Liam jammed his hands into his jeans pockets, the movement drawing Isobel’s attention to his wide shoulders and long, corded arms. His skin, deeply tanned from working under the sun, was almost as bronze as her own. Dark brown hair hung a little too long over his eyes, glinting with gold highlights gained from hours underneath the sun.

  He was used to working outdoors. Used to working with his hands. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, nor was he one of those men with thick, bulky muscles pumped up from excess weight-lifting. Liam came by his chiseled state through natural hard work. His muscles were tight, compact, precise, as if he’d carved them out himself with the same delicacy he wielded with his tools.

  Not on your list.

  Isobel stubbornly tamped down the spark that flared in her lower belly.

  It was a good thing she still bore residues of the compound that all Council agents wore to mask their scent while on-duty. It came in handy when agents were hunting down suspects and didn’t want to give their presence away, but it also helped at times like these, when the last thing Isobel wanted was for Liam to scent her attraction.

  She tossed her gloves onto a side-table. “Hey, cub. You eaten?”

  “Yup. I convinced Liam to stay for dinner.” Naley gestured proudly at the plates on the coffee table. “Made him my special black mustard sandwich.”

  “Oh.” Poor man. He’d probably been itching to escape for hours.

  Naley’s expression suddenly turned anxious. “It’s okay that I let Liam in, right? I know we talked about the whole access code stuff, but it’s just Liam. And we weren’t doing anything. Just dinner and a movie.”

  Isobel glanced at Liam. He simply watched her, silent as stone. She returned her attention to Naley, who looked even more worried now. A line creased in between her tender young brows.

  Isobel donned a comforting smile and patted Naley’s shoulder. “Dinner and a movie, huh? Sounds like the perfect date.”

  She brushed back Naley’s wild, curly hair and bent down to kiss her forehead. Then she paused as she smelled Liam’s scent on the girl. Isobel pushed the afghan down to Naley’s waist and saw she was wearing a T-shirt Isobel didn’t recognize.

  Naley looked guilty. “Liam lent me his clothes.”

  Isobel knew Naley had left her clothes and backpack behind at school, but Naley had her own room here in Isobel’s house. She had books, furniture, and decorative knick-knacks here. She’d even chosen her preferred shade of teal for the walls. And she most definitely had extra sets of clothes for whenever she stayed over. She could’ve changed at any time.

  Naley glanced at Liam, then quickly motioned to Isobel to lean closer. Isobel bent down so that Naley’s mouth was right by her ear.

  “I didn’t wanna let him outta my sight while I changed,” she whispered.

  Isobel relaxed. Good girl. One didn’t just let a newcomer into the house and allow him to roam the place unsupervised. She’d taught her niece better than that.

  “Otherwise he might run away before I could make dinner,” Naley added.

  Isobel choked on a cross between a sigh and a laugh. She darted a look at Liam. She knew he’d heard everything anyway. His expression was priceless, but he quickly composed himself before Naley could notice.

  “You know the rules, cub,” Isobel said, straightening. “No outside visitors to the house without prior approval.” Naley’s face fell. “But since Liam is here anyway, why don’t I program him into the system? That way he can enter his own code whenever you invite him over.”

  Naley brightened. From the corner of her eye, Isobel saw Liam startle.

  “That’ll be great, Aunt Iz.”

  “Good. How was your game today?” She kept track of Naley’s soccer matches, tried to attend whenever her schedule allowed.

  Naley relaxed. “We slaughtered ’em! Their team went down like wounded caribou!”

  Liam blinked at the triumphant crow. Isobel stifled a smile.

  “That’s my girl. Why don’t you go up and change into your PJs? I’ll be up to check on you after I say goodnight to Liam. You can tell me all about your match then.”

  “Oh, but Liam doesn’t have to go—”

  “I’ll be up,” Isobel repeated. “Then we can talk.”

  Naley hesitated, but one look at her aunt told her she couldn’t escape the inevitable. Isobel wa
nted to know what had happened to make Naley take off like she had today, and Kaya still hadn’t returned her call.

  Naley capitulated. She rose from the sofa, grabbing her things. She bussed Isobel on the cheek, then waved at the tall, silent man standing apart from them.

  “Bye, Liam. Thanks for staying. Maybe you can come over again sometime.”

  Isobel saw the uncertain expression crossing Liam’s face and bit back another smile. He likely regarded social invitations the same way a human regarded a grizzly bear.

  Naley scampered up the stairs. Isobel waited for the duotone beep that indicated her niece had scanned her prints and was safely ensconced in her bedroom, then faced Liam.

  He was studying her bruises. Aside from a tic in the left side of his jaw, he didn’t say a word.

  “Thanks for staying with Naley.”

  He gave a small nod. He, too, must’ve sensed the strangeness of being inside her house.

  “Naley must’ve been pretty adamant in her invitation.”

  He paused before conceding, “She can talk.”

  A lot, was the unspoken addendum. Isobel gave a rueful smile. For all that Liam looked fierce and dangerous and determined to shut out the world sometimes, for some reason she could easily picture him helpless to deny a lost and lonely teenage girl.

  “Yeah. I suppose normally she could’ve invited her friends over to chat up a storm. Over at her mother’s apartment in the city, I mean. Harder to invite them over here.”

  “Because of the distance.”

  “Among other things.” Like the intense, numerous background checks that were bound to take place, for one. Every visitor had to be vetted in advance before they could even approach within twenty feet of the perimeter.

  Ever since Isobel had built her house here, Naley had never invited a friend over. And Isobel had to be honest: even if her niece had asked permission to bring someone over, she wasn’t sure she could’ve given it. A careless word could easily find its way to the wrong ears and end up a potential security risk.