Rogue Wolf by Paige Tyler

Chapter 6

“I can’t believe I’ve never been to this part of town.” Samantha spun in a slow circle, taking in all the colorful shop fronts up and down either side of the street that ran through the middle of Bishop Arts District, surprised when she saw there was a live band playing on a stage set up at the end of the block. “I’d heard there were a few quaint shops and cafés here, but I never realized there were so many. Retail therapy is exactly what I need after spending the day dealing with those idiots on the Butcher task force.”

Trey chuckled. “What happened?”

Samantha got that little twinge in her stomach as she worried once again that the only reason he wanted to spend time with her was to grill her for information on the Butcher case. She knew that was crazy and unfair, especially since a big part of the reason she’d manipulated him into asking her out in the first place was because she wanted to sniff out whatever secrets he and his teammates were hiding. But still, there was something about all this that made her feel more than a little crappy. Mostly because Trey was the kind of guy she could easily fall for if they both weren’t so busy playing games with each other.

Trey took her hand as they walked into the brick-sided shop on the corner. It was filled from floor to ceiling and wall to wall, with vintage kitsch and knickknacks. From home decor, stationery, and candy, to collectible toys and original art pieces, the place was buried in stuff that was organized with no obvious rhyme or reason. There wasn’t a thing in the store she needed and yet she wanted to buy it all.

“The detective in charge of the task force thought it would be a good idea to spend the entire day having us go over every piece of evidence that we’ve collected so far, along with videos of the crime scenes and details from the autopsy reports on the off chance there’s something buried in there we missed,” she said in answer to Trey’s question.

“How’d it go?” He picked up a lunch box covered in cartoon bunnies and frowned at it in confusion. “Did you find any new leads?”

Samantha pushed away the thought that Trey was only asking to gather information for his own purposes. “It was horrible. We spent six hours looking at the stuff and we’re no better off than we were before. We still have no idea who the killer might be, who his victims are, or how he chooses them.”

While they wandered around the shop, Trey commiserated with her about the lack of progress in the case, but mostly he simply let her vent. Samantha appreciated the hell out of that.

As they left the first shop and headed to another—an emporium apparently dedicated to all things weird and wonderful—she realized they were still holding hands. She wasn’t the kind to normally do that. In fact, she’d never done it. But with Trey, it felt so right that the idea of not doing it seemed weird.

The contact suddenly made her think of the kisses the two of them shared last night, and the memory was enough to make her heart thump faster. Trey glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Could he hear the pounding of her heart? Or maybe he could feel her elevated pulse from his hand in hers.

Browsing at a shelf filled with ceramic vases and figurines, Samantha replayed the kiss through her mind for what had to be the thousandth time. Admittedly, she’d spent most of last night dreaming of those lips on hers instead of sleeping. Then again, she’d also whiled away a good portion of her wasted day with the task force thinking about them, too. She was pretty sure that kiss had been the stuff of fairy tales. Or romance books. Either way, she’d never experienced anything like it, and she was counting the minutes until they got a chance to do it again.

Being with Trey was almost enough to make her forget about all the weird stuff she was supposed to be digging into.

Almost.

“Aren’t you going to buy anything?” Trey asked after she’d picked up the ugliest ceramic chicken in the existence of the earth and then put it right back down. “As part of your retail therapy, I mean. My treat. Movie, dinner, and a ceramic chicken of your choice.”

Samantha laughed and shook her head. “You really don’t understand the purpose of retail therapy, do you? It’s searching for the thing that provides the therapy, not the buying. Besides, they’re cute but I don’t collect ceramic chickens.”

He snorted. “I’ve seen what you collect in your office. I don’t think we’re going to find much in the way of antique medical equipment in the Bishop Arts District. Or old skulls. At least, I hope we don’t.”

Samantha laughed. Trey seemed to know her better than anyone she’d ever been with.

“Come on. Let’s check out the rest of the shops,” she said, tugging him toward the door. “They may not have anything for my office collection, but maybe I can find some Christmas presents for my family.”

“Do they live in Dallas?” Trey asked as they hit the sidewalk, weaving through the crowd that was starting to get a little heavy now that the sun was edging toward the horizon and the searing late-day temperatures were finally easing off a bit.

“Just my sister, Loralei.”

She subconsciously squeezed his hand tighter, so they wouldn’t get separated in the press of people on the sidewalk. A part of her realized this was the first bit of personal information she’d revealed to Trey. It wasn’t that she’d gone into the first date planning to withhold details about herself. It was simply that she’d been so eager to learn everything about Trey and his SWAT teammates that she’d sort of blown off all of his attempts to get to know her. Now, she felt kind of badly about that, especially since it’d probably seemed deceitful. Well, maybe not quite as deceitful as tricking him into revealing secrets he’d obviously rather keep hidden, but still.

“My parents and my two brothers live in Houston, but Loralei moved to Dallas after she graduated from college. She has a degree in biology, and since I know some people at a lab, I helped her get hired on there as a genetics tech. Now, they’re paying for her master’s program and she essentially owes me her firstborn child.” She grinned. “Nothing down in writing, of course, because that would be weird. But trust me, that child is mine.”

Trey chuckled, the sound deep and rich, and Samantha was stunned by how much she loved his laugh. It did things to her that, up until a few days ago, she would have taken as a sign of impending health issues. Now, having parts of her body fluttering, quivering, or growing warm at random times were being chalked up to attraction and arousal.

“So you’re from Houston then?” he asked as they walked into a clothing store filled with denim jeans and other casual clothes that were exactly the kind of things her sister lived in. “I have to admit, even though your accent is so slight, I was sure you were from the Pacific Northwest. Washington State, maybe.”

Samantha had never really thought about her accent one way or the other, but she found it adorable that Trey had taken the time and effort to figure out where she born and raised. At least that confirmed he didn’t have a copy of her personnel records, like she had his.

“Actually, you’re pretty close. I’m originally from a small town on the Kenai Peninsula called Homer in Alaska.” She pulled out an artsy-looking T-shirt that Loralei would totally love. “We lived there until I was fourteen, when my dad got an offer to be the chief of cardiology at a hospital in Houston. My grandfather and grandmother still lived in Alaska, so I spent summer vacations with them and sometimes spring break when I was in college.”

“It sounds like you’re really close to them,” he said, holding up a T-shirt and studying the graphic print on the front.

She wondered if she should point out that none of the shirts on the shelves in here had a snowball’s chance of fitting him without being skintight. Not that there was anything wrong with skintight clothing. Not when a man had a body like Trey’s. The image of a soft, cotton tee stretched across his broad chest made all kinds of body parts flutter, quiver, and/or go warm all over again.

“We were close,” she finally said, turning to study a rack of sunglasses when she felt tears burn her eyes. “In some ways, I was closer to them than I am my parents. I know that probably sounds crazy. But they were just so…amazing.”

“It’s not crazy at all,” he said softly. From the sudden warmth against her back, Samantha could tell he’d moved closer. “There’s family we’re born into and family we choose. They’re both important, but some bonds are simply meant to be and there’s no way to tell whom those bonds will develop with…or why. We simply have to accept and believe in them.”

Samantha nodded. She’d never heard it phrased that way, but it sounded like Trey understood what she was talking about. Unfortunately, her mom and dad never really had. Sometimes, it seemed like they were upset that she’d been closer to her grandparents than she was to them.

“They passed away four years ago.” Samantha picked up a pair of sunglasses and looked at them for a moment before putting them back on the rack. “They left their home, thousands of acres of wilderness property, and the wilderness tourism business they owned to me. I think they were hoping I’d move up there and settle down, but while Homer is breathtakingly beautiful, it’s also small, which means there isn’t much call for a full-time medical examiner there. I go up there a couple times a year to make sure the house and property are okay and check in on the business.”

Taking a deep breath, she turned and gave Trey a small smile as she held up the T-shirt. “I think I’m going to get this.”

When they got to the counter, Trey pulled out his wallet, and while she attempted to argue, he waved her off. “Your loss. You could have had a ceramic chicken.”

They browsed around the other shops, laughing over the unusual and sometimes silly stuff they found. Trey picked up a few things, telling her it was never too early to buy Christmas gifts for his teammates. She swore for a second he almost tripped up and said pack mates but caught himself at the last second.

In between shopping and listening to the band, they stopped for food whenever something struck their fancy, from a French silk chocolate pie with pretzel crust at a bakery that smelled like absolute heaven, to half a pound of fudge at the fancy chocolatier shop at the far end of the district. Samantha thought they’d take the fudge with them, but it tasted so good, they ended up eating it all as they walked. She didn’t even bother feeling guilty about it, either. The way she looked at it, all the walking would burn off the calories as soon as they ate them. That was her story, and she was sticking to it. Besides, Trey ate most of it.

“You mentioned that your dad’s a cardiac surgeon and that your sister works in a lab, so making a career in medicine sounds like it’s a family affair,” Trey said as he held open the door to a rather eclectic-looking bookshop/café. “Did you always want to be a medical examiner?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve wanted to work with dead people since I was a child,” she said casually, perusing the mismatched books on the shelves across from the long wooden bar. Truly, she’d never been in a bookstore with a bar before. It was a match made in heaven as far as she was concerned. “So it was either an ME or a mortician.”

She was disappointed when Trey didn’t even bat an eye at her joke. “That must have been a tough choice. How did you decide?”

“Sorry for the gallows humor.” She gave him a wry smile. “But you have no idea how many times I get asked that question. Dad still asks me at least once a year and he already knows the answer.”

“I didn’t mean to stick my nose somewhere it doesn’t belong,” Trey said. “If it’s something you’d rather not talk about, I get it.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that. In my experience, doctors become medical examiners for one of two reasons. It’s either because they lack the empathy and compassion to interact with patients, or they possess too much empathy and compassion and can’t maintain the required emotional distance from their patients. It my case, it was the latter. I became close with an elderly patient in one of my practicums and when the woman died, it really did a number on me.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “Based on my experience as a combat medic and then as a paramedic, I’m thinking that probably happens a lot.”

“Yeah, I know,” Samantha admitted. “But there was no way I could ever put myself through that again. I talked to my advisers and at the end of that semester I transferred to a pathology program. It added another year onto my student loan debt, but I never looked back.”

She turned, expecting to see some level of condemnation or pity on Trey’s face. Her dad had certainly thrown enough of the first her way, while the friends she’d made during her pre-med program had provided the second. But Trey was regarding her with approval.

“This is going to sound selfish, but I’m personally glad you went the ME route.” Settling his hands on her hips, he tugged her closer. “If you hadn’t, we might never have met. And I think that would definitely have been my loss.”

Samantha decided that had to be the cheesiest line she’d ever heard. But for some incredibly silly reason, she loved hearing it all the same.

“So,” she said softy, leaning into him just enough to press her breasts against the hard planes of his chest. “What else is on the agenda for the evening? Beyond helping me reaffirm my career choice, I mean.”

Trey tilted his head down, and for a moment, Samantha was sure he was going to kiss her right there in the middle of the bookstore. But instead, he inhaled deeply through his nose—like he was breathing in her scent—then flashed her one of those knee-weakening smiles.

“I figure there are at least a dozen more shops for us to check out as part of your retail-therapy session. Then we could go to the pizza place at the end of the block to grab a few slices before the movie, if you want. Maybe even stop by one more time to look at that ceramic chicken you had your eye on earlier before heading back to your place.”

Samantha wasn’t so sure about the ceramic chicken part of the plan, but the rest of it—especially the part about going back to her apartment—sounded excellent.

***

“You feel like some coffee?” Samantha asked as she opened the door to her apartment. “Or maybe something a little stronger.”

“Coffee would be good.”

Trey set down all the bags he’d been carrying for her on the floor near the couch. She might have said retail therapy was all about the looking and not the buying, but it was still nice to buy stuff, too. And yeah, she’d finally gotten that damn ceramic chicken even though she had no idea what she was going to do with it. Maybe give it to Louis for National Boss’s Day.

But while they’d done their fair share of shopping, mostly they’d spent the evening talking about her grandparents and the place in Homer; her sister, Loralei; and even a bit more about that brief moment in her life when she thought she was going to be a real doctor. Or at least the kind of doctor who helped living patients. She hadn’t planned to be that open with Trey, but there was something about him that made him easy to talk to. She felt more connected to him than she ever had anyone else.

After she got coffee brewing, Samantha walked around the peninsula separating the kitchen from the living room, expecting to find Trey relaxing on the couch. Panic surged through her when she didn’t. What if he’d found his way into her guest bedroom, where all her SWAT stalker stuff was set up? She practically hyperventilated at the thought of him seeing all the photos she had tacked up to her walls and various spreadsheets full of all the strange events that had occurred in Dallas over the past few years, as well as the colored yarn connecting those events to different members of his team.

But when she got to the hallway leading to the bedrooms, she found Trey gazing at the photographs hanging on the walls. His expression was intense as he took in every detail of the pictures that pretty much laid out her whole life in front of him.

“Are these your grandparents?” he asked, motioning to the largest framed photo in the center of the wall of an older couple sitting on the steps of a rustic stone-and-log home, smile lines crinkling the corners of their eyes as they held each other close. It was one of her most cherished memories of them, taken on her last visit before they passed away.

“Yes. In front of their place outside Homer.” She smiled. “It doesn’t get as cold there as it does other parts of Alaska, but they built their home to stand up to the fiercest winters just in case. They loved that place with all their hearts. That’s why I’ll never get rid of it.”

She pointed out the other members of her family as well as her friends in the surrounding photos before leading Trey back to the living room. “When I’m not at work, I’m usually hanging out with either Loralei or Crystal, or both of them. No doubt, they’ll call me later asking for details of our date.”

He chuckled. “I hope you’ll be able to tell them you had a good time.”

She stepped closer until there were only a few inches between them, her pulse kicking up a notch at the proximity. “I think the odds are definitely in your favor,” she murmured even as Trey’s mouth came down to capture hers.

The kiss started slowly but didn’t stay that way for long. First there was a slip of tongue, just enough to tease her with that masculine taste of his, then two strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. She let out a moan as Trey kissed her more passionately, his tongue delving deeper into her mouth, those sharp teeth nibbling on her lips in a way that had a knee-weakening throb already building up between her legs.

Samantha wasn’t sure how they ended up on the couch, but the next thing she knew, Trey was leaning back against one arm of it, her knees on either side of his hips. She had his shirt half unbuttoned and was grinding down on his growing hard-on with enough force to make herself come if she kept it up. He must have somehow realized how close she was because he chose that moment to slide his hands down to her butt, rocking her against him even harder until she was practically riding him, her breath coming faster and faster.

Aroused beyond belief, Samantha didn’t recognize how carried away she was getting until she found her mouth on Trey’s neck, her teeth scraping harshly against his skin, the inviting throb of his pulse under her tongue. It was hard not thinking about how easy it would be to bite him right then.

Wait. What?!

“I’ll be right back. I have to use the restroom!” she yelped, pushing up off Trey’s chest and springing to her feet.

He immediately sat up, alarm on his face, mouth open to say something, but she waved him off, unsteady for a second before darting down the hallway to the bathroom. Slipping inside, she forced herself to stay calm and not slam the door.

Spinning around, she faced the mirror over the vanity, taking slow, cleansing breaths. “Get it together, girl,” she whispered to her reflection. “You didn’t actually bite him. That’s the important thing.”

Turning on the faucet, she splashed some cold water on her face, wondering when she’d actually gone so mental. Then again, maybe it was at the exact moment when she’d considered getting a new blood sample from Trey by biting him.

Admittedly, alcohol might have had something to do with that particular harebrained scheme. She’d come up with it after having a few glasses of wine with Crystal following that horrible episode with the contaminated blood sample she’d gotten from Trey’s teammate. She’d been bemoaning the possibility of ever obtaining a clean sample from the SWAT guys when her friend had jokingly said something about getting it while sleeping with one of them. Samantha immediately envisioned her straddling Trey’s powerful naked body, riding him like a hobbyhorse. Then, when she was right in the middle of driving him to orgasm, she’d lean forward to nip his neck hard enough to draw blood—blood she would use to finally gain a DNA profile of one of the SWAT cops. While she didn’t know what she might find, the scientist in her insisted their blood was the key to figuring out what made him and his teammates different. Maybe it was something as simple as being on performance-enhancing drugs, but she wouldn’t know for sure until she did an analysis.

Doing something as extreme as biting Trey to get a sample of his blood had been a stupid idea and she’d quickly dismissed it. There was no way she could bite Trey hard enough to make him bleed. He’d think she was a psycho. And he’d be right! But just now, as she’d been lying on top of Trey, kissing him like there was no tomorrow, the thought of biting him had popped into her head completely unbidden, like a bolt of stupid from the great beyond.

And now here she was, standing in her bathroom, doing her best not to freak out while the most amazing man she’d ever met was likely running out the door at that very moment. This obsession with finding out what made him different was not only taking over her life, but also jeopardizing any chance at a relationship with him. She needed to let this go before she completely ruined everything.

She took one more deep, calming breath before throwing another couple handfuls of water on her face, finally getting herself back under control. Then she turned and pulled a fresh towel out of the linen closet, ignoring the big first-aid kit sitting on the shelf mocking her. The kit held the sterile pads and resealable vials she would have used for those blood samples. If she’d actually been stupid enough to bite the man like a freaking vampire.

“Stupid first-aid kit,” she muttered.

Samantha stood at the door for a moment with her hand on the knob, psyching herself up. Then she jerked it open and headed for the living room, sure Trey had left.

The sound of rattling and thumping from the kitchen caught her attention and she felt relief flood her. Apparently, she hadn’t chased him off after all. Or maybe he was looking for a knife, so he could defend himself from the crazy woman who’d tried to attack him.

She walked into the kitchen to see him pulling two mugs out of the cabinet near the microwave, smiling over his shoulder at her as if she hadn’t just tried to rip open his throat a few moments ago.

“Hope you don’t mind me rifling through your cabinets, but I was really looking forward to that coffee.”

Samantha had been so resigned to the fact that Trey had left that she hadn’t thought of what she’d say if he hadn’t. So she nodded, hoping she didn’t come off as even more insane.

Silence filled the kitchen for a few moments as Trey moved over to the coffeepot, quietly pouring the rich, dark roast into the mugs. Samantha took coconut milk out of the fridge and held up the carton to him, giving it a questioning shake. Trey smiled but shook his head.

Samantha was adding sweetener and milk to her own coffee when Trey thankfully broke the silence.

“Sorry about that,” he said softly, leaning a hip against the granite counter and looking over the edge of his mug as he took a small sip. “I didn’t mean to scare you off by going too fast.”

It was a good thing she had a mug in front of her face. At least that way, Trey couldn’t see her jaw drop. It definitely wouldn’t have been a good look for her.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she murmured, sipping her coffee and enjoying the way the warmth of the beverage calmed her. “You weren’t going too fast and you didn’t scare me off.”

“Okay.” He regarded her in concern. “But if that’s not it, then why did you run out? And don’t say because you had to use the restroom.”

She hesitated, not sure how to answer. “I’m not really sure I can explain it.” She took a step closer, putting her coffee cup down on the counter. “I guess I got a little overwhelmed for a second.”

Trey set his own mug aside on the edge of the counter. “Overwhelmed by what?”

She gave him a sheepish smile. “That’s the part that’s hard to explain.”

She couldn’t tell him the truth, but she didn’t want to lie, either.

“When I’m with you, I get these crazy feelings,” she started slowly. “Emotions I’ve never experienced before come bubbling up out of nowhere. They’re so powerful, they take my breath away.”

Even as Samantha recognized the complete truth of what she’d said, it was impossible to miss the effect her words had on Trey. He looked stunned.

“Crap,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “This isn’t coming out the way I wanted. I must sound insane.”

But instead of backing away like she expected, Trey took her into his arms, squeezing tight and making the most calming shushing sounds she’d ever heard.

“You don’t sound insane,” he said, tugging her close until her head was nestled comfortably under his chin. “I completely get everything you’re saying. It’s not crazy at all.”

Samantha pulled away, opening her mouth to tell him she didn’t appreciate being patronized. She was so focused on what she was about to say, she forgot about Trey’s mug sitting on the edge of the counter. At least until her flailing hand slammed into it and sent it flying, spinning the thing into the tile backsplash hard enough to shatter it into a thousand pieces, dark coffee going everywhere.

She couldn’t have explained what happened next if someone asked her to try. One moment, she was staring at the puddles of liquid and ceramic shards scattered over the counter, and the next, she was lunging for the mess as if she thought she could stop time and force the pieces back together if she only moved fast enough.

Samantha knew it was stupid even as she reached for the sharp fragments of the mug. Her mind screamed at her to stop, that she was a doctor who made a living with her hands. Slicing them to ribbons wouldn’t end with her embarrassment. It would put her out of commission for a while.

But before she could grab any of the pieces, a blur of motion intercepted her hand. She stared, horrified as one of the bigger pieces sliced into Trey’s palm. Bright red blood mixed with the coffee already on the counter and she gasped.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

She quickly reached for his hand to see how bad it was. One glance confirmed it was as terrible as she’d feared. The gash slanted sideways across his palm, shallower near the thumb side and much deeper toward the outer part of his hand.

Samantha went straight into doctor mode, smacking Trey’s free hand as he reached for the dishrag she had hanging on a hook by the fridge. “Don’t use that…it’s dirty,” she said firmly as she pulled him closer to the sink so the blood would drip in there and not all over the floor. “I have a first-aid kit in the bathroom. I’ll be right back. Keep pressure on it.”

Her mind was a blur as she ran for the bathroom, bringing back the kit and snapping rubber gloves on her hands before seeing to Trey’s wound. As she gently wiped the blood away, she realized the laceration wasn’t nearly as bad as it seemed at first. The bleeding had already slowed to a trickle and the medial portion of the cut, which she’d been sure would need stitches, seemed to be sealing up quickly. But she cleaned the wound properly regardless, placing a swatch of gauze on it, then tightly wrapping a bandage around his hand.

“It’s not bleeding as badly as it was a minute ago, but I still think we need to have a doctor look at this.”

He chuckled, tilting her face upward for a soft kiss. “I did have a doctor look at it.”

“I mean a real doctor.” She frowned, not sure how he could laugh—or plant a kiss on her—at a time like this. “And I’m serious about your hand. You’re SWAT, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to infection.”

“I’ll get it checked out. Promise.”

Samantha wasn’t sure she could trust him. He had a look on his face that suggested he thought the slash across his hand was no big deal. She was about to tell him how serious she was when he stopped her with another soft kiss.

“But I’ll do it later,” he murmured against her lips, his warm breath tracing across her skin in a way that made her brain go all fuzzy. “Right now, I’d rather get back to what we were talking about before you murdered that poor, defenseless coffee mug. You know, those crazy feelings and emotions that take your breath away.”

“I think I vaguely remember saying something about that.” At times like this—when he was looking at her like he wanted to eat her up—it seemed his eyes almost glowed with an inner warmth. It was hypnotizing. “I hope I didn’t scare you by admitting that.”

He let out another soft laugh, then followed it up with an even softer kiss. “You definitely didn’t scare me. In fact, I think I quite like the idea of being able to take your breath away.”

Samantha realized then that she was in trouble. More trouble than she could ever have imagined. There genuinely was something about this man that took her breath away. It both scared and thrilled her at the same time.

“Then kiss me and see if it happens again,” she whispered.

Trey’s arms slid around her, pulling her in as his mouth covered hers, totally ravishing her…and yes, taking her breath away.

And yet, despite how transcendent the kiss was, Samantha found her gaze drifting toward the counter and the blood-soaked pieces of gauze lying there.

So much for letting her obsession with what made him different go.