Phantom Wolf. Bonnie Vanak

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Phantom Wolf - Bonnie  Vanak Mills & Boon Nocturne

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      “Sam?” A shallow breath and whisper. “You believe me, don’t you?”

      A razor’s edge of silence. He studied his former lover’s face, and then her hands. Steady and resolved. He drew on all his instincts and inhaled the air.

      He smelled a tinge of something familiar…and foul, as if evil brushed the air and then fled.

      “I believe something nasty was here.”

      Turning, he glanced at his teammates, his friends and Tom. He’d known Tom for years.

      “We don’t,” Tom said flatly. “She’s lying. Get out of my bar.”

      Two lines furrowed Kelly’s brow. He recognized the look. It would take force to remove her. “I know what I saw. And I’m not leaving until I search every inch of this place and see where he went.”

      He turned and saw his teammates maneuver around the bar, getting ready to intercept.

      “Shay,” Sully said quietly. His teammate nodded toward the door.

      Right. As Kelly slid out of the booth, Shay got out and scooped her over a shoulder as if she were a sack of flour. She let out a startled “Oomph.” He ignored it as he jogged toward the door Renegade held open.

      As the heavy wood door banged behind him, Shay set her on her feet. He hated her stricken look, as if he’d killed her favorite kitten. A knot of barbed wire cinched his guts.

      She was dangerous and outcast. He should send her far away before he got involved. Too late, he thought dimly.

      “Sam, you have to let me back in there.”

      Leaning against the door, he shook his head. “Kelly, I’ve had a bitch of a day. Watching you get your head torn apart by dozens of drunken vampires, werewolves and Mages is not how I want it to end.”

      “He’s in there. I have to find him. Someone’s hiding him, Sam, and you’re not standing in my way.”

      Her fingers flexed. He felt the quiet hum of power in the air. Behind him, the door rattled on its hinges. Sam’s own powers surged.

      “Back off,” he said quietly.

      She dropped her hands, her luscious pink mouth trembling. “So that’s it. Now what? Go to a motel? No one will rent me a room. My name’s been flashed across every television screen in America as a suspect in the kidnapping of Senator Rogers’s son. There are no flights until morning. Where am I supposed to go?”

      “Home with me.”

      This new steely, conservative Sam Shaymore still harbored a hint of wildness. It roared with the big, shiny chrome Harley he rode.

      Clinging to his back, Kelly closed her eyes as the big bike rumbled beneath her. Wind slapped at her cheeks. The ride was exhilarating and one she’d have enjoyed—if not for the tense male driving.

      She hooked her arms around his muscled waist. Sam had always been fit, but the navy had turned him into granite. As her thighs nestled against his long limbs, she felt a jolt of pure sexual awareness. The sharp leather scent of his jacket and his own masculine smell sent her female hormones surging.

      Bad timing.

      Sam turned a corner onto a quiet street lined with trees and trim, tidy homes. He pulled into a driveway before a two-story white house with green shutters and cut the engine.

      Ever the gentleman, he helped her dismount. Kelly pulled off the helmet, smoothing down her tousled hair.

      Sam quietly studied her, his full, sensual mouth drawn in a flat line. Unreadable, his expression shuttered.

      “You don’t live on base?”

      “Team 21 has off-base privileges. This is our street. I’d tell you who all my neighbors are, but it’s classified.”

      “And you’d have to kill me,” she joked.

      “No, the base security officers would.” His gaze was even and unblinking. As she gulped, the ghost of a smile touched his mouth. Sam touched her nose. “Gotcha.”

      The tension between them eased. Kelly breathed a sigh of relief and followed him inside.

      Sam had always had taste, but the modest living room surprised her with its plain but comfortable furniture. This was more a home suited for someone like her.

      She trailed him into the kitchen, a more elegant room with gleaming granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. Dumping her pack on the floor, Kelly sat on a stool at the breakfast bar. Sam needed time to download and process before she hit him with the heavy-duty artillery.

      He grabbed two bottles of beer and offered her one. Kelly sipped as he hunted through the fridge, setting bread, deli turkey slices, lettuce and Swiss cheese on the countertop. He frowned and braced his hands on the counter, studying her a long minute.

      “Do you have any memory of where you were two hours ago?”

      Confused, she nodded. “At your base, SEAL Team 21’s compound. You’re all paranormals, aren’t you?”

      “Curt didn’t take your memories right before you left the base,” Sam said softly. “I’ll be damned. Civilians aren’t allowed on our compound, and any who do have their memories erased. No one is supposed to know about our team. SOP.”

      “Maybe your commanding officer has more faith in me than your standard operating procedure. He asked questions, but I didn’t answer them.”

      Because I don’t trust him. I trust only you.

      “Kelly, you’re in deep trouble. And these rumors about a Dark Lord aren’t helping your case.”

      “I will discover the truth. I haven’t changed.”

      But you have.

      He cut the bread into four neat quarters. “Late-night snack?” she asked.

      “It’s for you.” He slid the sandwich across the bar. “Turkey on whole wheat, lettuce, no tomato, lots of mayo and Swiss cheese.”

      Emotion clogged her throat. After all these years, he’d remembered her favorite. Kelly nodded thanks as she devoured the sandwich. Sam remained standing, tipping back the bottle and drinking deeply. Muscles in his throat worked as he swallowed, and then he backhanded his mouth. Green flared in his eyes as he studied her mouth.

      “You have mayo…here.”

      He reached across the counter and touched the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Sam brought his thumb to his lips and licked it slowly, his intense gaze never leaving hers. Heat sizzled in the air. Her limbs felt loose and pliant, her nipples tight.

      Hot, heavy need surged. She wanted him badly. Wanted to feel him naked against her hot skin, feel those hard muscles rub against her body. Fingertips ached with the need, the yearning to touch him, explore muscle and sinew.

      Kelly quivered, her lips

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