Undercover Wolf

Chapter 17

“It wasn’t a night of a full moon,” Kristine said right away, grasping Quinn’s hand as they continued to watch the news. “At least everyone who knows the situation will back off from thinking that Grace and Simon could be the killers.”

“If people really know the situation, they’ll also know about the Alpha Force elixir,” Quinn reminded her grimly. Not that she, of all people, really needed the reminder.

They stood beside the bed. Quinn had tied a towel around his waist, and Kristine remained highly aware of his sexy physique despite the extra worry that now permeated her mind. She had pulled on a tank top over panties. This was not a time to be naked and aware of one another, remembering yet another night of incredible passion.

But she couldn’t help thinking about it, however briefly.

The news jumped to a commercial, and Kristine picked up the remote control from the end table beside the bed to turn it off.

“Two cops were there,” Quinn said unnecessarily. “One survived. Sidell, they said.” Kristine had caught that—even as she thought about the officer who’d been killed.

“I wonder if he’s in condition to give them any information about the attack—and what the attacker looked like.”

“I doubt it’ll do us much good, but we’re going to take a little trip to the hospital to see what we can find out.” Quinn looked down at her with his golden-brown eyes, not in query but in command.

She wasn’t about to disagree. In fact, the same idea had crossed her mind.

* * *

They parked in the outside lot and hurried inside via the hospital’s emergency room.

Quinn was determined to avoid the media jackals who festered outside, waving cameras at everyone who wasn’t among their fraternity. He hated comparing them with other canines, even jackals, but those creatures had a reputation of being ruthless scavengers that far exceeded wolves’.

Even so, Kristine and he had dressed up, in case they had to pretend to represent some kind of publication to wend their way into the hospital with the crowd.

Presuming, at that point, no one recognized them.

They were lucky—unlike a couple of auto accident victims who were brought in around the same time Kristine and he inched their way inside. Everyone was involved in checking them over, stabilizing them.

The good news, from what Quinn heard as Kristine and he reached the door at the far end of the E.R. facility that led to the rest of the hospital, was that the two teenaged accident victims who’d been brought in would apparently survive.

The better news was that Kristine and he soon found themselves in the nearly empty hospital lobby.

They didn’t stop at the desk to check in but strode to the elevator bank as though they belonged there.

When they were alone inside the climbing elevator, Kristine turned to him. “What if they have Sidell someplace different from where the two feds were?”

“Good question. We’ll play it by ear. Let’s see—our cover story for the moment is that we honeymooners heard that the guys who attacked you—those damned feds—might have been involved in this situation, too, and we’re here seeking more information. For our own safety.”

“Sounds pretty ridiculous to me.”

“You got anything better? Look, we’ll try it and improvise more if—”

He ended what he was saying as the elevator stopped on the third floor, the level where Holt and Kelly had been hospitalized during their stay here. Nodding to Kristine, he walked quickly out of the car.

The nurses’ station was right there. Several female nurses sat behind the long, empty counter with tables lining its inner area. Two were talking to one another and the others apparently were involved in administrative work.

Once again, Quinn was concerned as Kristine took the lead...but he let her. She approached the far end, where a familiar-looking woman stared at a computer screen as she typed on the keyboard. Quinn just followed Kristine, ready to listen to her—and prepared to jump in if she led things in a direction that could harm their current investigation.

“Hi, Bridget,” Kristine said.

The woman looked up. She had bright blond hair and narrow lips folded between thick cheeks. “Yes? Oh—are you looking for those men who were here a while ago? Mr. Holt and Mr. Kelly? To my knowledge, they haven’t been back.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Kristine said. She stood stiffly now, looking like some kind of official investigator, lawyer—or media representative—in her white button-down blouse and black skirt. He felt proud of her professional appearance. He’d chosen to dress similarly, in a suit, but he’d left the jacket in their rental car.

“No, I’m here looking for some answers.” Kristine leaned over the counter as if she was preparing to share a secret with the nurse. “As I told you before, I’m a nurse by background. The news is full of another death in Acadia, and the reporters are saying the means of death was similar to those tourists—only this time a police officer died. They also said another one was injured but survived. Is he here?”

The nurse frowned, pursing those thin lips. “You know I can’t discuss our patients due to confidentiality issues. We talked about that before.”

“Yes, but the thing is, well—I have my suspicions that those two men who attacked me were involved with this, too.”

Interesting angle, Quinn thought, wondering if this nurse would buy into it. If she did, that would mean she might think the feds had something to do with the other deaths in Acadia.

Instead, she shook her head. “You mean those guys bit and clawed you like wild animals before you somehow got control and knocked them out? I don’t think so. What is it that you’re really after? Are you some kind of reporter—and is that why they jumped on you in the first place?”

Kristine laughed. “Me? Not hardly. But—”

The phone on the desk beside Nurse Bridget rang just then. She raised one chubby finger, as if telling Kristine to wait a minute.

But Kristine turned away. She looked up at Quinn with her brilliant blue eyes and whispered, “From her lack of denial, I’ll bet that surviving cop is on this floor. Can you tell where he is?”

Quinn had already considered that. He’d been near the cop a couple of times, but even with his special abilities it was hard to distinguish scents in a hospital setting like this, where everyone and everything was doused often with antiseptics to minimize the risk of infection. He had also kept an eye on comings and goings, assuming that there could be a guard assigned to monitor the cop’s room. He had seen nothing—although he had heard some distant discussion in a room at the far end of the hall.

“Not sure,” he said, “but let’s check it out.”

He started down the hallway. Kristine joined him. They were passed by a couple of the nurses’ aides going the opposite direction, but no one questioned them.

As they passed a multilevel cart with food baskets and other gifty things on it, he picked up a couple of items and handed one to Kristine. “In case we need a cover story.”

“And you’re good at those.” Her tone sounded ironic, but she lifted that strong chin of hers and smiled, making him smile back.

“Yep,” he said, then stopped as they reached the door that was his target.

He knocked once but didn’t wait for a response before opening it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” demanded Chief Al Crane. The sterile-looking room held two beds, but he sat on a chair near the only one that was occupied.

In it lay the cop who’d been mauled during this last episode—the same officer who’d been hanging out at the scene of the first killing in Acadia. Sidell.

Crane rose and stalked up to them, confronting Quinn, who held himself in check and responded, “We heard about what happened and the similarities to the deaths of those tourists. As visiting honeymooners—”

“Oh, forget that crap,” Crane spat. “We’re beyond that. Honeymooners don’t show up everywhere asking all those damned questions. You with the feds, or what?”

“We’re not at liberty to say,” Kristine said primly. He wanted to hug her. Without any prompting by him, she was assuming an undercover role as...well, as whatever. He felt comfortable that they’d work together, following each other’s leads.

“Then get the hell out of here,” Crane commanded.

That was when Sidell stirred in the bed. Since the chief was confronting Quinn, that gave Kristine the opportunity to approach the injured man. He was hooked up to all kinds of monitors, and there were bandages over every part of his body that was visible from beneath the sheets—his neck, both arms, part of his face.

“I’m a nurse,” she told him, “although I don’t work here. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can get for you?”

“Painkiller,” the man managed to say between gritted teeth.

“I’ll check with those on call to see what we can do for you. Tell me exactly what happened, will you? That’ll help in determining your treatment.”

“Leave him the hell alone.” Crane moved away from Quinn to confront Kristine instead. He reached out a hand as if to grab her arm, but Quinn interposed himself between them.

“Dunno,” said the voice from the bed. “Someone—something—attacked. Knocked me onto the ground, grabbed my neck. Sharp teeth or...I don’t know. I fought.” Tears were running down the poor sap’s face, dampening his bandages. “But then...nothing.”

“Which was probably a good thing,” Crane grumbled. “Whatever it was thought you were dead already.”

“But I couldn’t save Emily.” The guy was weeping even more now. Even Quinn felt moved by his anguish.

But sympathy wouldn’t get the answers he needed.

“Did you see what attacked you? Hear anything?” Like, could it have looked like, sounded like a wolf—or, hopefully, something else?

“It happened so fast—and then...” His voice tapered off.

The door burst open and the two feds, Holt and Kelly, barged into the room.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” Kelly demanded.

“This sounds like a chorus,” Quinn responded calmly. “Chief Crane, here, asked us the same thing. And here’s our response...again. We’re looking for answers.”

“But you’re violating your—” Holt all but shouted, but he stopped as Kristine stalked toward him and looked straight up into his face.

Quinn wanted to grab and shake her for putting herself in harm’s way, but Kelly was in his path.

“That’s on a need-to-know basis,” she hissed softly at the fed. “If you violate national security by saying too much here, I’ll report you.”

“What national security?” Crane demanded. “You with the feds, too?” he asked Quinn. “Just because Acadia’s a national park it doesn’t mean that there’re no repercussions for people getting killed there. Especially when local cops are attacked. You understand?”

“You’re talking to the wrong person here,” Quinn retorted. “Talk to these guys. They’re with the government. Not me.”

That wasn’t exactly true, and Quinn caught the distressed look on Kristine’s lovely face before she resumed a serious but neutral expression. Well, neither of them was representing the government at the moment.

Neither was acting under the aegis of Alpha Force.

“We’re conducting our own investigation into what happened in Acadia this time,” Holt said in a calm and reassuring voice to the police chief. “We’ll want your input, too, of course. We can share what we learn so both of our organizations can reach a mutually satisfactory solution here.”

“Mutually satisfactory?” Crane all but spit. “One of my officers was killed. Another—” he pointed at the bed where Sidell lay with his eyes wide, his mouth open as he breathed heavily “—was gravely injured. There can be no satisfactory solution for us till we catch whoever or whatever did this, and you’re gonna help us. You are going to share with us. Got it?”

“We understand,” Holt said soothingly without agreeing to anything.

“I think it’s time for us to leave,” Kelly said. “All of us.” He looked commandingly toward Kristine first. Quinn saw her nod slightly. He hated the idea of following this government jerk’s orders, but perhaps talking with the two DoD guys would lead to more answers than the locals had.

“Good idea,” he said, apparently startling Kristine, who glanced at him inquisitively.

“Okay,” she said.

* * *

Maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea after all, Kristine thought, as she preceded the men into the hallway. All they had learned was how badly mauled Officer Sidell had been—and that he didn’t remember anything.

Shades of her self-defense attack on these two Defense Special Projects Agency guys, with Quinn’s help while shifted.

Did that mean that a shifter had been involved in these latest attacks in Acadia? In the first attacks?

If so, who?

The answer seemed so obvious, since they hadn’t yet found Grace and Simon.

But that only led to further questions...like, why?

A nurse walked by and glanced at the four of them curiously while they stood outside the closed door to the room they had exited. Maybe the antagonism created some kind of electrical charge in the area. Or maybe it was just the way the three men glared at one another.

Counterproductive, Kristine thought. Not that she wanted to become best friends with these miserable, secretive and aggressive feds.

But they still probably had information that Quinn and she wanted.

Like more about what had actually occurred this last time in Acadia.

What the feds currently thought about it.

What did they officially perceive could be the involvement of Simon and Grace?

And where the hell was the newlywed couple?

“Okay, guys,” she finally said in a totally sweet but firm voice. “We’re not getting anywhere by standing here. What do you say we go...” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and looked at the time. “Let’s have dinner together and talk.”

“Can’t tonight,” Kelly asserted. “We have plans.”

Kristine caught the look between him and Holt. It seemed to speak volumes—none of which she could understand.

But she wanted to know what they were thinking. Really wanted to know.

Quinn must have caught that, too.

“I think it would be good for all of us and what we’re doing here—” He raised his hand at the glare the two feds leveled at him. “Officially or not, I think we have the same goals. And I also think that we could help each other by talking. So, if we can’t do dinner tonight, how does breakfast look on your agenda?”

He actually sounded calm and convincing. Kristine felt proud of him and readied herself to back him up.

She didn’t need to.

“Okay,” Holt said slowly. “Let’s plan on breakfast. How’s 7:00 a.m. tomorrow at the BarHar Bistro?”