Kari: Gray Wolf Security Back Home, #4

By Glenna Sinclair

This is the fourth book of the Gray Wolf Security Back Home series, with over 50,000 words of romantic suspense. 

 

I thought I knew him. He was my neighbor, my new lover, the guy I was just having fun with. But I didn't know everything and that might be my downfall.

 

I walked into that room expecting a stranger, someone I could manipulate, maybe even drug. Instead, there stands my lover, but he's not the same kind, gentle man I thought I knew.

 

We're caught up on this case together, both working toward a separate end, both aware of the consequences should our covers be blown. Can I trust him? Can trust even exist in this screwed-up world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glenna Sinclair
• Release date: Jun 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9798223009962

Glenna Sinclair

Experience the heart-racing novels of Glenna Sinclair, the master of romantic suspense. Sinclair's books feature strong male protagonists, many with a military background, who face real-world challenges that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Books2read.com/GlennaSinclair Facebook.com/AuthorGlennaSinclair GlennaSinclairAuthor at Gmail dot com

Book preview

Prologue

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Kari

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The prison was huge, hulking. It was funny how buildings like these seemed to always be dark, like they were projecting the darkness that lived inside.

I was scared, but I tried to hide that from everyone around me. They asked so many questions, wanted to know everything about why I was there. What was I supposed to tell them? That I was here to seduce a man who sickened me in order to save the man who didn’t? I didn’t know how to put that into words anyone would understand, even me.

But I had to do this. I had to make this right.

Tommy had saved my life. It was my turn to save his.

Chapter 1

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Joss

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I’m too tired for this bullshit.

And I was. Just hours ago I’d left my husband and children at Ash Grayson’s compound with the hope that they’d be safe there. I’d then gone to the office to see to the work I was tired of doing. If I heard the name Mahoney one more time... Why wouldn’t the man leave us alone? Wasn’t it enough that people were dying all around us? Hadn’t enough happened?

Mahoney had sent his niece after us, trying to put together information on my husband and children so he could figure out how best to hurt me. When we caught her—thanks to the man she’d hired to help her out—she’d killed herself, but not before telling me it wasn’t over. That it would never be over. Not more than a few hours later, a car full of trigger-happy fools had shot at Ash as he and his wife headed home after their weekly date night.

I’d moved my family because I felt like I had no choice. They were safe now.

But was I?

I’d assumed he wouldn’t come after me because, by all accounts, he wanted me to suffer after he killed the people closest to me. Maybe he’d changed his mind.

A man had charged toward me in the parking garage of the hotel I’d been staying in for only a day. I’d cried out, blindly kicking and then hitting him in the ankle, causing him to bellow with pain. Then a good punch to the midsection, pushing all the air out of his lungs. He was twice my size, but I’d managed to get the better of him in less than a minute.

Go home. Get some sleep, I’d said as I delivered a third blow, watching him fall forward before slamming the side of my hand into the back of his neck.

I’d walked away, tugging out my cell phone to let the local cops know they had another idiot to deal with. I never saw the second man.

The knife sank into my side like a hot blade through butter. He held me close to him as he did it, in an embrace almost like a lover might offer. I fell back against him, exhaustion and pain washing over me. When he let go, I fell to the dirty concrete, my vision darkening for a moment. I watched as he picked up his partner and ran toward a red pickup truck parked a few yards away. Thinking quickly, I took a picture with the cell phone that was still in my hand.

How did they know I’d be here? Only a handful of people knew I was here. Jules. Mike. A couple of others. Had one of them informed on me? Or was someone following me? I was careful... but not so much tonight. Had I missed a tail?

I could smell my blood, but the pain wasn’t as bad at I’d expected. I rolled to my side, thinking I could stand, but my legs were too weak to hold me. I studied my phone, finding it difficult to focus, but somehow managed.

Mike?

There was instant concern in his voice. Joss? What’s happening? Where are you?

My hotel. There were two guys—

I’m on my way.

I closed my eyes, thinking how great it was I hadn’t had to tell him what the problem was. He knew. Mike Spencer was an FBI agent, a good man who knew what it was like to work this job. He understood the commitment it took, the time and the patience we had to put into it. He understood me better than...

I thought of Carrington and my heart ached worse than the throb in my side. I closed my eyes and saw the concern in his eyes when I’d told him what had happened to Ash and Mina. I’d expected him to be angry, but he wasn’t. At the very least he’d contained it while we prepared the girls for the move to Ash’s compound.

Carrington understood better than I gave him credit for. But that didn’t erase the guilt I felt when I had to tell him how my job had followed me home.

The sirens came not long after I spoke to Mike. A stranger bent over me, the lights flashing off the walls of the garage.

Where are you hurt?

I touched my side. My back.

He pulled me toward him, speaking quickly to a partner I couldn’t see. I felt my clothing torn away, felt pressure on the place that had only throbbed before. Now pain cut through me, bringing a soft moan to my lips. Mike was suddenly there, falling to his knees close to my head. His eyes were dark, his breath laced with liquor. Mike wasn’t the kind to go out drinking after work, but he’d had a hell of a night tonight. A suspect had committed suicide with his gun in the local police station. That’d drive anyone to drink.

How bad is it? Mike demanded of the men working around me.

We won’t know until we can get her to the hospital.

They lifted me onto a gurney, the pain in my back red hot for a brief moment.

I’ll call Carrington.

I shook my head almost violently, sitting up even as the paramedics tried to push me down. Don’t, please! I don’t want to worry him.

Joss, he should be there with you.

I shook my head again. Please, Mike—promise you won’t.

I could see the shadows dancing on his face, the shadows that were born of uncertainty and hope. Finally, he inclined his head. I’ll be right behind you.

I saw him pull out his phone as they loaded me into the ambulance. My heart missed a beat as I worried that he was calling Carrington even as I realized that he was likely coordinating with the local police, bringing them up to speed as a patrol car pulled up behind him.

The chief of the Santa Monica police, Jack Warren, was married to Gray Wolf’s long-time police liaison out of Los Angeles, Emily Warren. Mike knew him, knew about our relationship to him. The two of them would keep my name out of the papers.

I had to trust...

We arrived at the hospital and there was suddenly this flurry of activity around me. People taking blood, others asking me questions, others taking my vitals. I didn’t know who to pay attention to, who to ignore. And then there was a wand pressed to my side as they tried to figure out what the knife had damaged.

You’re a really lucky lady, the doctor, a young, good-looking man of about thirty, said. The knife didn’t touch a damn thing. Never saw anything quite like it.

What do you mean?

The size of the wound, the positioning... it’s almost like your attacker wanted to slow you down but didn’t want you out of commission for long. He knew exactly where to stab you.

Dumb luck, I muttered and the doctor laughed his agreement. But it didn’t feel like dumb luck. It felt like a warning.

Back off or things can get much worse...

A nurse rolled me onto my stomach and the doctor used what felt like a million needles to numb the area. I think the needles felt worse than the stitches ever would have. He was in the middle of closing the wound, chattering about other knife wounds he’d repaired in the emergency room during his short career, when a nurse walked in.

Test results, Dr. Bishop.

He gestured for the nurse to open the file to allow him to glance at it while he continued to sew up my back like I was a ripped garment. Then he grunted, his eyes falling to my face.

Well, we’re going to have to forget about the morphine, I’m afraid.

I pushed up a little on my hands. What do you mean?

He smiled brightly, his handsome face made even more so by the dimples that appeared in his cheeks. We can’t use morphine in pregnant women. But we have some lesser opioids we can give you. He patted my arm lightly. We’ll make sure you aren’t in too much pain.

No, I said immediately, rolling a little away from him even as he was attempting to tie a knot in one of his stitches, I can’t be pregnant. My husband and I went through infertility treatments a little over a year ago and nothing worked. I can’t get pregnant.

The doctor frowned. That’s not what the blood tests show. But we can do some more tests if you’d like. Just let me finish this up.

I nodded, rolling back onto my belly so he could finish sewing me up.

There was no way I could be pregnant. Not only had we struggled with the fertility treatments after trying for more than two years to get pregnant on our own, but our marriage had been so strained these last months that we hadn’t touched each other with any sort of affection for a long time... with the exception of that one night, but that was a while ago. More than a month ago. Wouldn’t I know? I would have missed... but I’d been so busy lately, sometimes I couldn’t remember if I’d bothered to shower.

The doctor finished with my wound not more than twenty minutes later, but it felt like hours as I waited. The nurse placed a bandage and helped me roll over as the doctor pulled the sonogram machine they’d used to search for internal bleeding back over to the bed.

The nurse laid a thin paper sheet over my legs as the doctor moved the hospital gown up over my belly, exposing the stretch marks left from my previous pregnancies.

How many children do you have? he asked as he prepared the machine.

Three.

I chewed on my lip after I said it, always feeling as though an explanation was in order. I did have three children, but one had died and one I didn’t carry in my belly, so it felt a little like a lie. But he’d already moved on.

I’m going to put this gel on your belly to help us see what’s going on with you, okay?

I watched his every move, my heart pounding as he pressed the wand to my belly a second time. This time it was pressed under my belly button, moving firmly over my bladder—which happened to be pretty full at the moment. I couldn’t see the screen of the monitor on which the wand transmitted information, but I could watch his face, see the frown his perfect lips were twisted into as he searched my body for what the blood tests had told him was growing inside me. I knew it couldn’t be true even as I recalled reading that false positive pregnancy tests were extremely rare.

Is it cancer? I asked. I’d also heard that a false pregnancy test could indicate certain cancers.

The doctor turned the monitor around so that I could see what he was looking at. He touched the screen with the tip of an index finger, that joyful smile back on his lips. There’s your peanut. Heart rate is perfect. And it’s moving like a soccer player—or ballerina—already.

I stared at the screen in disbelief, unable to convince myself I was seeing what I was. A baby. After all we’d gone through these last five years, it had just happened. Spontaneously. After I’d accepted the fact I would never be a mother again, that I’d never hold an infant of my own again. It was like God was playing a colossally unfunny joke on me.

How was I supposed to tell Carrington? I’d walked out of our marriage not a full thirty-six hours ago. Some insane criminal was trying to kill him, and was collecting information on my child. How could I tell Carrington that, in the middle of all this insanity, the pregnancy that he’d so desperately wanted a year ago had finally become a reality?

The answer was simple. I couldn’t.

Chapter 2

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Kari

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I heard the door pop open behind me, felt the slight breeze that came into the shower stall with him. A shiver moved up the length of my spine, but it was quickly washed away by the warmth of his hands slipping around my waist. He tugged me back against him before reaching for a bar of soap that sat on the little caddy hanging from the showerhead.

Want some help? he asked softly, his voice like a musical note dancing around my head.

I’ll always take this kind of help.

He laughed softly as he wet the bar of soap and rubbed it against my belly, creating a rose-scented lather. I leaned my head back, resting it against the spot below his shoulder that dipped just slightly before swelling into his pec. His body seemed to swallow mine up, his dark skin a shocking contrast against my redhead’s pale skin. I liked the way it felt, standing this close to him. There was a certain sense of security in being in his arms that I’d never felt before. It was dangerously addictive.

Not that I was the kind of girl who needed to be taken care of.

I twisted in his arms and pushed him back, catching him off guard for an instant. Then he smiled, his eyes moving hungrily over my body. He reached for me, but I grabbed his thick wrists and forced his hands down to his sides, moving close enough to slide my lips along the side of his neck.

He grunted, his hands twitching but not offering any real resistance to my grasp. Instead, he leaned back and rested against the cool wall of the shower, watching me as I ran my tongue slowly over his wet skin. And that skin... it was like caramel at the moment melted sugar turned to a thick, golden candy, or like butter allowed to brown slowly in a hot pan. I almost expected it to be sweet as I ran my tongue along it, but it was warm and salty and... perfect.

Kari, he moaned, saying my name with such thick need in his voice that it was like a touch in the perfect place, sending shivers of pleasure through my body.