Page 48 of Rogue Wolf Hunter

He wandered into the bedroom again. Nothing but his tangled sheets lay on his bed. He let out a groan.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He ran a hand over his five o’clock shadow.

She’d hit it and quit it.

Exactly as planned. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

He grabbed his leather coat off the couch and pulled out the unopened pack of Marlboros. Opening the pack, he slipped one out and placed it between his lips before he looked at the bed again. Never once had a woman lefthimbehind before.

Though that’d been their agreement.

One night. Nothing more.

The cigarette dangled from between his lips. Nicotine billowing into his lungs would calm him, instantly, but he took the cigarette and stuffed it back into the pack again as he mulled over the night’s events. Her brown eyes had shimmered with flecks of liquid gold as she rode him, and her long, dark hair danced around them. A burn erupted in his chest.

He rubbed his hand over the area. Heartburn?

Yeah, he hadn’t eaten much the night before.

After a short shower and a quick shave, he brushed his teeth and yanked on his clothes, then threw on his leather coat. His phone buzzed. A text from David asking where he was. By now David would have learned what happened. Grabbing his keys and the black duffel he’d packed with gear the night before, he hoofed it out the door and down to the street, where the sunlight hit his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

Squinting, he jogged to the Chevelle, grimacing at the cracks spanning the back window, evidence of Francesca’s fight for freedom. With a disgusted grunt, he hopped into the driver’s seat, revved the ignition and sped off. He cranked up the radio and drowned his thoughts with the sound of Kansas. Anything to block out memories of last night.

The last thing he needed to be thinking about was her.

Jace didn’t remember any details of the drive other than the open road and the sound of the classic rock cassette playing in his ears until suddenly he was pulling the Chevelle to a stop in a patch of woods a stone’s throw north of Ithaca. Placing a ball cap on his head, he made his way through the trees, the black duffel bag in hand, until on the other side of the landscape nestled on an old patch of farmland the view of Execution Underground Headquarters emerged. He crouched down, hidden among the forest brambles.

The former nuclear laboratory had been purchased and renovated on the inside post buy-out, but on the outside, it still looked like it was meant for research. Wrought iron fence surrounded the perimeter topped with barbed wire, the entrance manned by an armed guard. Insurance to be sure anyone or anythingbeing held there couldn’t escape.

Nothing went out or in without clearance.

Jace knew that, but he was just fucking desperate enough to try it.

Francesca was right. He needed to know what exactly was motivating Chet and the other corporate suits in there. Sure, Chet had always been a prick. That much was certain, but until Jace knew what had pushed him across the line from asshole to evidence-planting dick, he couldn’t know how to address it, how to vindicate himself. Or if it was even possible.

All that he was, all that he had, he’d poured into that organization.

He couldn’t walk away and never look back again.

Hovering and observing until twilight fell, Jace slipped among the shadows. Carefully, he circled the perimeter, looking for a hole or a snag in the fence. Nothing.

He cursed. As much as he hated having his balls busted, this was the only job he knew. Francesca was right. He was a damn good hunter, and he wasn’t about to lose his job. Nor would he let the killer walk free and Chet go unpunished. Not if he could help it, but alone he couldn’t even get past the fence to get inside the damn building.

Defeated, he retreated to his car. Inside the Chevelle, he revved the engine and burned rubber, listening to the music once again. But this time, his heart wasn’t in it.

Back in Rochester, after driving for several blocks, he parked the car outside a liquor store and stared out the windshield. He wasn’t even fifty feet away from where he’d found Francesca two nights ago. She’d offered to help him, but he’d been too stubborn and refused.

“Damn it all to hell.” He banged his fist on the steering wheel.

He got out of the car and immediately detected the trace of her scent. He strode down the nearest alley. His visit to Headquarters had scraped at his already raw nerves. He’d been punished over who andwhathe was—and damn if he hadn’t done the same thing to Princess. He couldn’t blame her for running away the first chance she got.

He really was a worthless bastard.

He followed her scent for several blocks. He told himself he just needed to be sure she was safe. That was all. But his heart jumped in his chest at the thought of seeing her again. Hung up on a wolf shifter? God, help him.

Following her scent, he stared up at what he guessed was her apartment building and repeated his mantra of curses.

He was a complete idiot. He’d stooped to a new level of stupidity with this one, and he was past the point of no return.

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