Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven 1)

Daniel looked down at her, intending to continue. But as he stared into her face, the feel of her breasts against his chest and of his thigh in between her legs made him realize that but for all their clothes, he’d be inside of her.

Well, assuming they weren’t just chain-links away from all kinds of trespassing fun.

As her eyes locked on his mouth, he shook his head.

“Man,” he murmured. “Wrong place, wrong time, huh?”

With a curse, he got up and offered her his hand. As she took it, he helped her to her feet, and enjoyed the sight of her flushed cheeks. Hot as she was, hot as she made him, there was a reserve to her that he liked getting under.

“Fucking pity, really,” he said as they started walking.

They’d gone about five hundred yards farther when they came into range of the massive clearing, the bald earth like a mountain case of alopecia. The builders were setting their foundation on a flat ridge that ran in a straight shot about two thirds up the elevation to the summit. Down below, the lake that marked the valley was going to be a great view for all the easterly facing rooms—

“Fuck,” he hissed. “What is that?”

Lydia saw what he did at the same moment, and they stopped together: A person was at the chain-link fence, and totally absorbed in what they were doing … with a set of bolt cutters.

Whoever they were, they were systematically cutting the links—

“Rick?” Lydia called out. “What the hell are you doing?”

LYDIA RECOGNIZED THE gray and black jacket. And as she said Rick’s name, the figure with the bolt cutters jerked up from the fence.

The vet’s features were recognizable even in the veil and the shock that hit his face was exactly what was going through Lydia’s mind.

“What are you doing?” she repeated as she walked forward.

He sat back with a kind of defeat—and that was when she saw the duffel bag. Not his medical bag, but one just as big.

As she stood over him, he didn’t say anything, just shook his head.

It was with a sense of disassociation that she knelt down by the duffel. The thing had a set of twin zippers around the top flap, and as she drew them back, the access panel of the bag opened to reveal …

“What is this,” she said as a chill went down her spine.

And yet she knew.

“Oh, God, Rick. This is a bomb.”

The pipes were duct-taped together, sealed at both ends, and connected to an old-model cell phone.

He rose to his feet and dropped the bolt cutters like a zombie. And as he just stared straight ahead through the chain-links to the hotel’s property, it was as if all his consciousness had funneled out of his body.

A big set of hands entered Lydia’s field of vision.

Daniel gathered the handles of the bag and lifted the weight out of Rick’s reach. As Lydia tracked the movement, she realized that there was a gun in Daniel’s free hand. Down at his thigh.

So she hadn’t imagined that back at Peter Wynne’s house.

“I’m sorry,” Rick said in a detached voice. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

Somehow, she believed him, and it was strange, how clarity came to a person. Because as Lydia stood up, too, she realized … no, she wouldn’t do anything to stop the hotel. She wouldn’t resort to murder. Sure, in the hyperbolic hypothetical, the vow to kill was a way of giving validation and airspace to her anger, her desire for revenge, her heartbreak.

But when it came to a black duffel bag toting a homemade IED?

No, she would not take things that far.

“Please don’t do this,” she said to Rick. “I know you’re full of rage. I’m the same—”

The laugh that came back at her was harsh and he looked over at her. “You don’t know what I feel. And that’s always been the problem.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s you, Lydia.” His eyes shifted over to Daniel. “It’s always been her.”

“Me, what?”

Rick shook his head again and didn’t stop staring at Daniel. “Jesus, even in my moment, she still doesn’t see me. Be careful, my man. She’s unlike any other woman you’ll ever meet—and I don’t mean that in a good way.”

Lydia rubbed her eyes. “Rick, you’re talking nonsense here—”

“So what are you going to do?” the man demanded. “Call Eastwind? Turn me in?”

Daniel spoke up. “Don’t know why we would. You were just doing a little trimming. Landscaping. This kind of thing. And it’s not like you’re even on the property.”

Rick seemed taken aback. “Why the hell would you protect me? Then again, I’m not much of a rival, am I—”

“Just stop this whole thing.” Lydia swiped her palms in front of herself. “Everything. Let’s all go home.”

“You’re an accessory to my crime.” As Rick pointed to the cut in the fence, the smile on his face was haunting. “It’s probably the only thing we’ll do together, isn’t it. Kind of ironic.”