Undercover Wolf

Chapter 20

Quinn was walking fast along the narrow Bar Harbor sidewalk, edging around the people strolling more leisurely.

He nearly missed them: the two DSPA men, sitting at a table in a small but crowded café.

Quinn hadn’t gotten any further responses to text messages or calls to Kristine, which concerned him. He’d gathered that she had stayed in town—partly because he had checked with tour companies and no scheduled sightseeing would have taken off after he’d spoken with her.

Nor was she in their hotel room. He’d checked.

Now, preparing another text message, he peered into all the retail and eating establishments he passed while looking for her. He was so focused on finding her that he was initially surprised that he even recognized the guys, let alone zeroed in on them.

But despite her hard-line military attitude, he feared that Kristine was doing something he wouldn’t like in furtherance of their now really unauthorized investigation. And these men were definitely involved.

Quinn hurried inside despite not really wanting to talk to Kelly again. But Holt had been with Kristine after he’d left. Maybe he would have some information.

“Hi,” he said to Kelly and Holt, both with sandwiches on plates in front of them as well as glasses of beer. Apparently their ban on alcohol was over. “Mind if I join you?” He didn’t wait for their answer before asking the people at a nearby table for their unoccupied chair.

But he didn’t even know if they had that knowledge.

“Have you seen Kristine?” he asked Holt. “She’s not answering her phone.”

“Yeah, I saw her.”

Quinn didn’t like the snide look on Holt’s puffy red face, but he did forbear from punching it. “Do you know where she is now?”

“Not really—not after she went off with Team Leader Olivante.”

“Hell, Holt,” Kelly growled. “You ever heard of being discreet?”

“We’re not under orders to keep quiet about one of our bosses showing up,” Holt responded, glaring at his cohort. “I didn’t like playing games about it then, don’t like it now.” He took a large swig of beer.

“Then he didn’t approve of the great job you gentlemen are doing?” Quinn didn’t hold back his sarcasm. Like accusing innocent people like his brother, sister-in-law—and him—of murder and more.

“He told us when he arrived that unless things change around here fast he’s pulling it out from under us,” Holt grumbled. “This job sucks sometimes.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Kelly countered, sounding malicious. “After this, you won’t have it much longer.”

Holt met his gaze. “You, neither.”

This wasn’t getting Quinn anywhere. “Well, if you both like what you’re doing, I hope you can work it out. Meantime, do you happen to know if Kristine is with Olivante now?” He looked at Kelly.

“Probably.” He sounded indifferent.

“Then do you know where they went?” Quinn spoke through gritted teeth to the man who’d been so difficult to deal with in the rotting cabin, although he made himself smile as if he felt friendly to him.

“Nope,” Kelly said. “Sorry.” But he didn’t look at all sorry.

The server returned with coffee. Quinn took a large swig of the bitter, hot brew, then pulled out a few bills, laid them on the table and stomped out.

Outside, he yanked his phone from his pocket and called the hotel where these clowns were staying. He asked not for their rooms, but for Darren Olivante’s.

“Sorry, no one by that name registered here,” said the operator.

Damn. Was Olivante just visiting for the day rather than taking over the investigation like the flunky DSPA men apparently thought? Or was he staying somewhere else?

And, most important, where was he now?

Quinn’s next call was to his commanding officer.

“This is one hell of a puzzle,” he told Drew Connell. He gave a brief rundown of all that had happened that day so far, including Kelly’s leading him to that remote cabin that contained some of Simon’s and Grace’s belongings.

“And you didn’t call to tell me this before?” Drew demanded.

Hell, Quinn had thought about it. But now that their presence here was even more precarious, with even their commanding officer demanding that they end their investigation and making it clear he wouldn’t have their backs if they didn’t, he figured he’d give a report only when he had something useful—and positive. But Olivante’s presence, and Kristine’s being with him, were things Drew needed to know about.

Especially in case Quinn wound up needing backup to find her. If it wasn’t Kristine in danger, he would plan on just using his normal P.I. skills. But it was Kristine. And if assistance would let him find her faster—and figure out what really was going on—then he’d have to avail himself of it.

“I just learned from those two Defense Special Projects Agency operatives here that their superior, Darren Olivante, showed up,” Quinn told Drew. “Kristine’s apparently with him, and I’m hunting them both but don’t have a lot of ideas.”

“Let me contact the general, have him use his resources to check what Olivante is up to,” Drew said. “I’ll get back to you. And Quinn?”

“Yes...sir,” he added.

“This is potentially a major screwup. You know already that your continued unofficial mission is only adding to the charges being made against Alpha Force. Your presence there, too, after the latest attack on those cops. Right now, just find Kristine and get out of there. Both of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Quinn asserted, grimacing.

“For now, I’ll be waiting for whatever information you can provide.” Quinn hung up before Drew could ream him any further.

But waiting wasn’t the equivalent of taking action.

As Quinn continued to hurry to where he had parked the rental car, his mind weighed what he should do next.

* * *

They were inside the house now, entering from the rear through the kitchen. It smelled of cleaning products but appeared run-down, as if it needed a major renovation.

Kristine didn’t like this. She immediately surveyed her surroundings for exits, other means of escape—and possible weapons. Nothing obvious like sharpened knives sat on the old laminate counters, but at least there were a couple of other doors from the kitchen. Not to mention a fairly wide window that probably looked out on the backyard.

She hugged her purse more closely to her side. She already had a weapon.

“Come this way,” Olivante said. “To the living room. I’ll get you something to drink. A soda? Something stronger? Unfortunately, I don’t have the ingredients around to make you another of those coffee drinks.”

“Just water, please.” She followed him down the short hallway to a sparsely furnished room that was a bit more elegant, with its paneling and wainscoting in keeping with the attractive exterior of the house, but had little charm.

It had a large-screen TV, though. Not that she would ever watch it.

Except...Olivante turned it on. “I’ll be right back with your water,” he said. “Meantime, make yourself at home.”

Something in his innocuous expression suggested to Kristine that he was about to do more than merely get her a drink. But she simply thanked him.

She waited for a couple of minutes after he left, then walked from the living room and into the hall. She thought she heard a door close somewhere near the kitchen and headed that way.

Olivante wasn’t in the kitchen, nor could she find him right away. Since he could be taking a restroom break, she wouldn’t knock on doors looking for him.

She only wished she had some of the enhanced senses that Quinn had, even in human form. Better yet, she wished Quinn were here with her, to watch her back.

But she needed to hear what Olivante had to say about him.

She thought she heard voices, very low and very distant, and they didn’t seem to come from the TV. Olivante must be talking on his phone with the speaker on.

She wished she knew who he was speaking with, and what they were saying. But she needed to take advantage of this opportunity.

She didn’t want him to hear her talking, too, though, so when she pulled out her phone she decided to text Quinn again. She had to trust him, no matter what Olivante had claimed. Didn’t she? At least she’d stay aware if he didn’t, in fact, watch her back—and not let their sexual attraction be a factor.

Not when her life could hang in the balance.

But she only got part of the directions to get there entered when she heard that door open and close again, and then Olivante’s footsteps in the kitchen.

She wasn’t sure there was enough detail for Quinn to find her—or even if she’d gotten everything right. She’d try again later, when she was alone once more.

For now, she quickly returned to the living room and sat on the musty gray fabric sofa. When Olivante walked in and handed her a glass of water, she shot him a perfectly innocent smile.

* * *

“Hey, Quinn.” Chief Al Crane strode up to him just as Quinn got to his car.

“Hi,” he responded. “How is Officer Sidell?”

“Surviving. Where are those damned feds? I need to talk to them. We’re at a dead end as far as evidence goes in that last attack and I need to talk to them. Neither’s responding to phone calls.”

“I just left them.” With pleasure, Quinn gave the name of the coffee shop. He hoped this cop would give them a hard time. Maybe even extract some useful information from the uncooperative men. Unlike Quinn.

“So...you aren’t leaving town, are you?” the cop asked, scowling so much that his shaggy gray brows nearly met in the middle.

“Not immediately.” Quinn paused. “I assume I’m not a suspect in any of the attacks.”

“Don’t assume anything.”

“Then if you have any evidence that seems to implicate me, please let me know.” Like that damned business card in the stuff that had apparently been stolen from his brother and sister-in-law by whoever had made them disappear. Or that was what he had chosen to believe.

“When I arrest you,” the cop muttered.

Quinn said nothing more but slipped into the car. He was driving when his phone beeped. He grabbed it from his pocket. Was it legal to talk on the phone or text while driving in Maine? He didn’t know. Didn’t care.

He checked the screen and almost cheered. As he’d hoped, it was from Kristine.

But then he scowled. Her message was short: With olivante. House near seal harbor. Ocean view off upland. And that was all.

Ocean view? Was that a description or a street name?

Good thing he had brought his GPS. He aimed for the nearest parking lot to set it.

He didn’t think that he could track Kristine’s cell phone with it, and she probably didn’t have the military satellite phone with her.

He just hoped the system included a good map of Seal Harbor.

* * *

“So where’s the evidence you wanted to show me?” Kristine asked Olivante.

They still sat in the living room. The TV was muted. Kristine glanced that way every once in a while to see the talk-show hostess chatting with her guests—one publicity seeker talking to others. Why bother?

“I’ll show it to you soon,” Olivante promised.

“Why not now? I’d like to see it and get back to town. Quinn and I have dinner plans. I can pretend I still don’t know his involvement but sound him out about what he knows.”

They didn’t have any dinner plans, but she wanted Olivante’s commitment to get her back there, the sooner the better.

“Just need to figure out the best way to present it to you.”

What a load of BS. She was about to tell him to cut out the crap and show it now or take her back, when a voice from beside her said, “Hi.”

Startled, Kristine jumped in her seat. A man stood there, someone she didn’t know.

“Hi, Mel,” Olivante said, standing. “Kristine, I’d like you to meet my brother Mel.”

The taller, thinner man wore jeans and a loose, untucked blue shirt. He held out his hand as he approached her. “Good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, Kristine. The rest of Alpha Force, too.”

Kristine glanced at Olivante, whose smile resembled the traditional cat-got-the-canary grin. Was this brother an employee of some Department of Defense agency, too? If not, why would Olivante discuss the classified military unit with him—brother or not?

“And what have you heard?” She made her own expression bright and receptive, as if having a stranger learn about Alpha Force was no big deal.

“Very interesting things.” His gaze suggested that he was assessing her, trying to determine if she was a shifter.

She stood and rounded on Olivante. “May I speak to you in private?”

“We can talk in front of Mel,” he said.

There were now two of them and only one of her. Not good.

“Okay,” she said to Olivante with a shrug, then turned back to Mel. “Do you work for the government, too?”

“Me? Not hardly. I just sell cars.”

“No kidding? I’m in the market for a new one. Are you from around the D.C. area?” She knew she sounded like a naive ditz, but she would extract information any way she had to.

“No, I stayed in Montana after Darren left.”

That was something new, even if it wasn’t particularly useful—was it? Olivante was apparently from Montana.

“That’s a pretty far distance for me to go just to get a new car. What brings you here?”

“Just helping my brother.” The two men exchanged glances.

“Really? That’s so nice. I was an only child, so I don’t have that kind of relationship with anyone. What do you need help with, Darren? Maybe I can do something, too.”

Both pairs of eyes turned to her. “Maybe you can,” Olivante said. “Although you’ll need to prove that we can trust you. That the whole U.S. government can trust you.”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I’ve been a member of the military for years. I’d do anything for my country.”

Especially to figure out what these men were really up to, then fix it.

“Let’s start with what I said I’d show you,” Olivante said. “Then we’ll see how cooperative you really are.”

That didn’t sound good.

“Okay,” she agreed.

He motioned for her to follow him. “Down the hall.”

Mel waited for her to catch up with his brother, then he followed. She was sandwiched between. Was this a trap?

Her heart thumped crazily inside her chest. She could handle two adversaries if she had to, especially nonmilitary types.

As she’d thought before, maybe she should have waited for Quinn. Unless Olivante’s claims had been true...

Hell, she was a soldier. She knew better than to act without her unit—usually.

Well, at least she had her purse, and its handy contents.

The hallway was wide but the gray walls could have used a coat of paint. The carpeting on the floor was dingy, too. Not a place she’d have wanted to rent, even on a budget. So why had this guy, whose expense account was undoubtedly generous, resorted to living here?

Another thing that didn’t smell right.

Olivante reached the end of the hall and pushed open a door. He flicked on a light, and Kristine realized that the afternoon had segued into evening. How would she get out of here before nightfall?

“Here we are, Kristine. I’ll be interested in your reaction.”

She wasn’t about to just walk in and let him slam the door behind her. “After you,” she said with a smile.

“Sure.” Both men, in fact, preceded her. Maybe she could slam the door on them.

But Mel remained in the doorway.

She walked up beside Olivante—and gasped.

The whole room appeared to be full of wolves.

Dead ones.