Chapter 2
A wolf doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of sheep. ~George R.R. Martin
Axel
As we wait for the ambulance”s arrival, the attractive brunette with huge chocolate-brown eyes holds the resurrected man’s hand. Their closeness triggers my internal primate. Clenching my fists, I resist the urge to beat my chest and drag her to my cave.
On the sand near my feet, the heavyset Lazurus grows agitated and tries to sit. “Someone fucking shot me.”
“Shush. There was no gun. You had a heart attack.” My sexy suspect pushes him until he again faces the star-filled sky.
After he settles, she bites her lower lip, raises her brows, and shoots me a pointed gaze, daring me to argue.
What? So now there was no weapon? Concerned at the change in her story, I text the only man I trust in this case, Lochlan James.
Me: Move your wife and team underground ASAP. TTYL.
Lucky: ***thumbs up emoji***
A few minutes later, streaks of red rotate across the beach, the ocean-facing buildings, and along the boardwalk.
Heaving a heavy sigh, the sexy scientist stands and brushes fine grains off her too-short black dress. “It’s about time they got here.”
Her boobs bounce as she waves her arms at the young policeman in a bright yellow t-shirt. “Over here.”
Bold red letters, CADET, define his temporary summer role. After taking in the situation, he shoos away the two dozen gawkers. “Everyone, please move off the beach so the paramedics can do their job. Thank you.”
I don’t budge, so the kid glares at me. “Are you family?”
“No, but you’ll probably need help lifting him off the sand.” Raising my brows, I stare down at the overweight man I helped save.
The twenty-ish blond follows my gaze, tilts his head, and frowns. “Right.”
Done with the complex weight calculations, he takes his damn sweet time eying my long-legged person-of-interest.
Bear growls, requiring me to unclench my fist and pat his head. “Quiet, pal.”
He’s right, though. No one, especially those in uniform, should ogle a woman like a piece of meat. Besides, she’s mine, or rather under my protection.
Tomayto, tomahto.
Done eyeing my suspect, the rent-a-cop waves over the medics. Unaware of his attention, Guinivere McGee gathers her shoulder-length hair, removes a stretchy band from her wrist, and pulls the silkiness into a ponytail.
When her gaze meets mine, my cock stirs. I shut my pecker down faster than the speed of light. I don’t fall for traitors, even incredibly sexy schoolmarm brainiacs.
Soon, my number-one perp releases me from her tractor-beam eyes, and a tear drips down her face. Shivering, she wipes an arm across her wet cheek and smudges the long black stripe of mascara.
Ah, fuck. Anything but waterworks. I untie the hoodie wrapped around my waist and shove it forward. “Take it.”
I’m not trying to be gallant or impress her. I’d do the same for anyone in shock, or so I convince myself.
“Thank you.” The dark centers of her beautiful orbs grow until they almost cover the brown, and her mouth parts as if asking to be kissed.
She’s not the first woman to find me attractive. But for some damn reason, her reaction shoots straight to my groin.
As I force my willie to stand down, she chants under her breath, “Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium…”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, sorry.” She shrugs. “Reciting the periodic table keeps me from freaking out.”
“Coping mechanisms can be useful.” God, I sound like my last shrink, a sixty-year-old grandmother. I suppose it’s better to give off old-lady vibes than whisper all the filthy things racing around in my mind.
While she continues her weird incantations, I help lift the heavy man onto the gurney, over the dunes, and past the bandstand. Once they shut the ambulance’s back door, Bear whines.
Eyes on my flirtatious dog, she taps me on the shoulder. “Can I pat him?”
“Sure.” My pal wags his tail, hamming it up.
“You’re such a good boy.” On her knees, she allows him to kiss her face, then asks, “Part Collie and?”
“Mastiff.” I groan when her pouty red lips form an‘O’, the perfect shape for thrusting my-
“Wow, no wonder he’s so massive.” Leaning closer to his huge snout, she scratches behind his ears, and he, being no fool, licks her cheek.
“What’s his name?”
“Bear.” The dog’s pure bliss makes me wish we could exchange places.
She hugs him around the neck, something few would attempt.
After, she raises her brows and turns toward me. “He chased the suited man away. Why?”
Smart girl. She wants to know if I saw the weapon, but I ignore her question. “He was trained by the military and sensed something wrong.”
I hold out my hand. “By the way, I’m Axel Wulf. W U L F.”
After she wipes the slobber off her fingers, she shakes with a firm grip. “Gwen. McGee. Spelled like it sounds.”