Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven 1)

“I don’t know where else to go.”

“That I believe. And I already spoke with the hotel’s CEO.”

Lydia’s brows popped. “You did?”

“Corrington himself took my call. I told him the next time one of your wolves is found dead or poisoned, I was going to go to the Securities and Exchange Commission with all I know about his company going public last year.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Corrington Hotel and Resorts went public and a number of friends of his were allowed to buy in early. Classic insider trading. Of course, he’s such an arrogant fuck, he thought it was no big deal. Just another one of Tom Wolfe’s masters of the universe—although I suppose a wolf of Wall Street is the more current saying.” When Lydia just blinked, the woman laughed a little. “I can see this is not your field of interest, but it is mine. I manage a couple of hedge funds, and although I specialize in pharmaceutical companies, I have my fingers in a lot of pies. Which is how I know what Corrington pulled.”

There was a pause, and when Lydia didn’t say anything, C.P. Phalen smiled. “Have I lost you entirely, or are you just surprised to have heard me say ‘fuck.’ ”

Lydia cleared her throat. “What was Corrington’s response?”

“He denied everything, but took great pains to point out that the hiker that was found a couple of days ago was a prime example of why he needs to protect his guests. I told him to keep that chain-link fence up permanently and then he won’t have to worry about wolves on his acreage.”

“There’s no proof that it was a wolf.”

The level stare was so direct Lydia dropped her eyes.

“What else can I do for you?” the woman said.

Lydia took a deep breath. “Do you know of anything that Peter Wynne or the WSP might be involved with that’s dangerous? Or illegal?”

“No. Why do you ask this?”

“Peter’s been acting strangely.” And Rick had been, too, but not for the same reason. “And out of the office all the time.”

“Maybe there’s something going on in his personal life?”

“I didn’t know anything about him,” Lydia said. “Other than he just stopped showing up to work, and we’ve run out of money.”

“That’s news to me,” C.P. Phalen said remotely. “About the money.”

“I looked at the financials just two days ago. There’s next to nothing in the operating and the payroll accounts. In fact, I ripped up my paycheck so we could afford to replace our groundskeeper. And we let the cleaners go.”

As C.P. Phalen’s eyes narrowed and a nasty frown set up shop on her otherwise line-less face, Lydia thought …

Yup, this was why she’d come.

Daniel was back at the WSP before the office closed at five-thirty. As he walked in, Candy looked up from her desk.

“Do you know where she is?” the woman demanded.

“Who? Lydia? No.”

“She took my car—with my permission. But I have to get home. I got a cat to feed.”

Daniel frowned. “Where did she go?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Can we call her?” He took out his phone. “I’ll just c—”

“I’ve tried. Three times—”

The sound of tires on the gravel drive had him turning around. Through the windows that faced the front, a familiar Chevy sedan came rolling down the slight decline.

“Thank God,” Candy said as she grabbed her coat and purse.

Daniel purposely ignored the breath he released. “All’s well that ends well.”

As Candy passed him by, she paused. “You’re a smoker? I don’t think I knew that.”

“No, I’m not.” Except then he sniffed the sleeve of his windbreaker and could smell it, too. “Okay, fine, I just had a couple.”

“If there ever was a day for it, it was today.” The woman patted his shoulder. “You take good care of our girl. We need her to not quit. If she goes, I’ll have to get a new job. Hell, I probably need to anyway. See you tomorrow, assuming there is one.”

Candy stepped out of the door, her voice carrying as she started talking at Lydia before the other woman even got out of the car.

The pair met in the middle, halfway between the parking area and the building, where more words were exchanged, along with a set of keys.

After that, Candy went to her sedan, got in, and drove off.

Lydia stood where she was and watched the woman go, arms crossed over her chest, the setting sun bathing her in gentle light. To get her attention, Daniel knocked on the windowpane—and then regretted it as Lydia wrenched around, fear on her pale face. He lifted his hand in what he hoped was a friendly way. A calm-cool-collected way.

Which was not at all how he was feeling.

If he went with his emotions, he’d be rushing out there and throwing his arms around her. Holding her tight. Not letting her go, maybe forever—

Fuck, Mr. Personality might have a point, he thought.