Page 43 of Cuffed By the Wolf

Her big amber eyes widen. I may have gone too far, using my alpha bark on her. I’m not sure why I’m driven to act a fool over this woman.

At this point, I’m out of control. I barely acknowledge Jenny. But I’m cordial for Sasha’s sake. Sanchez will give Tom a ride to the station. I’ll beat his ass some more really soon.

On the ride to the campground, Sasha says she won’t move in with me. I decide to take a step back. I’ll get her to my place soon enough.

I probe about Jenny. I see the embarrassment on her face because she doesn’t know that much about her. Really, she knows nothing. Hanging out with a total stranger. I’ll be sure to investigate Jenny.

I inform Sasha, if the danger heightens, she’s coming home with me.

Once we arrive at the camper, I insist on checking it out. When I ask Sasha about the dress under her pillow, embarrassment washes over her pretty features.

“Your scent is on my dress.”

The alpha in me and my wolf are all too happy to give her shirts, hoodies, jackets, and blankets that all smell like me. When she caresses my jaw, I purr and she whines against my palm. My cock rises to the occasion. This isn’t the time to fuck my omega. At that moment, it’s obvious that she belongs to me. I don’t need biology to tell me we’re meant to be together. My soul feels at home. I take her lips in a passionate kiss. It’s so hard to leave her. All I want to do is hold her in my arms all night.

Sunday morning, I run Jenny’s face before I let myself think too hard about why.

The club owner, Jason, sent over her picture from last night’s surveillance footage — it’s of when the two of them were laughing at the bar, Jenny’s face turned just enough toward the light. I told myself it was routine. Anyone new sniffing around my town while there’s an active wire fraud investigation gets run. That’s not a lie. It’s just not the whole truth either.

The system takes a while to spit anything out — facial recognition through the county database, cross-referenced against DMV records for three states. When the hit finally comes back, I sit with it for a full minute before I do anything else.

South Carolina. Not New Hampshire. A driver’s license two years expired, an address in a town forty minutes outside Charleston.

I don’t like coincidences. I like them even less when they’re standing next to the woman I’d burn this town down for.

I reach the camper at two. She’s already outside when I pull up, sunglasses pushed up into her braids, a legal pad tucked under one arm like she’s been waiting on me.

“Thanks for doing this,” she says, climbing in.

“I told you I would. I believe in keeping my word.”

“Of course you do.”

We spend the next two hours doing what she should’ve been doing from day one, if she’d bothered filing that report — working the main street storefront by storefront, asking about the wire transfer, showing the printout of the routing number to anyone who’ll look at it. Most of them shake their heads. A couple ask more questions than I like about why the sheriff’s suddenly playing bodyguard to his own secretary.

She’s good at this. Better than good. She’s got a way of getting people to talk without them noticing they’re being worked — soft voice, easy smile, never pushes past where they want to go. I watch her charm information out of the woman who runs the fabric shop that I couldn’t have gotten out of her with a subpoena.

“You’re staring,” Sasha says, once we’re back in the SUV.

“I’m observing. Comes with the badge.”

“Uh-huh.” She flips to a fresh page on the legal pad. “Where to next?”

I don’t answer right away. She notices, which is half the problem with this woman, and sets the pen down.

“What.”

“I ran a background check on Jenny last night.”

Her whole posture changes. “Why?”

“Because a woman with no last name I can find has been walking you around town.”

“She has a last name. I just haven’t⁠—“

“You haven’t asked. I know.” I keep my eyes on the road because if I look at her right now, I’m not going to like what I say next. “She told you she’s from New Hampshire?”

“Yeah.”