Drifter: Fox Ridge Shifters Book 4 by Marianne Hull

Author:Marianne Hull [Hull, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fox Ridge Shifters Book 4
Published: 2021-10-01T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Hope’s wolf ears picked up the rumble of Ian’s Harley pulling into the parking lot, and she listened for his light, sauntering footsteps. Instead, she heard a slow shuffle, as if he were weary. The lock clicked and the door opened. Ian appeared pale in the sunlight streaming through the doorway.

“You look like you didn’t have a very good time.”

He shook his head and shut the door, then stood in front of it as if he didn’t know where to go. She scented dried sweat, the acrid kind reeking of fear. Her wolf perked up, sensing weakness.

It broke her heart to see such a strong, independent man so shaken. She stood and went to him, tugging at his hand. “Something happened.”

He swallowed and nodded.

Alarmed at the thought of the danger he faced, she asked, “Was it your spying? Were you caught?”

His eyes focused on her face, and he drew himself up, gripping her hand. “Some pretty bad things happened. But I took care of it.”

“Took care of it how?”

“Warned the people involved.”

“So you weren’t caught?”

He stared down at their clasped hands, as if noticing them for the first time, and his shoulders relaxed.

“No. I’m fine.”

The knot in her chest loosened. Uncomfortable with how worried she’d been about him, she raised her chin. “Take a shower. You stink of fear, and it’s making my wolf crazy.”

He gave her a gentle but sardonic smile. “Yes, chief. As you command.”

“Darn tootin’.”

He raised his brows. “Darn tootin’?”

She let go of his hand, pushed his shoulder until he faced the bathroom, and gave his back a shove. “I’m an old woman. I can use silly phrases if I want to.”

He chuckled as he headed toward the hallway, easing the last of her worries about his mental state.

“I made food, if you’re hungry,” she said as she followed him into the bedroom.

“I was too worried to eat much.” He pulled out a drawer and grabbed clean clothes.

“And you love to eat.”

“And I love to eat.”

The saunter back in his step, he went to the bathroom while she returned to the kitchen to prepare their plates. She was playing wifey, she told herself. It was only polite to make food for him if she was making food for herself.

Oh God, I’m domesticating. Worrying about a man. I’m becoming my mother!

* * * * *

The partially collapsed building trembled above him. As fast as Ian flung aside mud bricks, more tumbled onto the pile that buried his buddy. His sensitive shifter nose told him Petey had died—probably as soon as the bombs rained down from the sky and shattered their hideout in the basement of a small shop. But he wouldn’t accept it, couldn’t leave him behind, dead or not.

“Drummond, get up here,” his sergeant called out from the edge of the ruin. Even with Ian’s acute hearing, the voice, rough with urgency, barely sounded over the cacophony of sirens, gunfire, and shouting.

Ian ignored it. Choking on dust, his heart pounding out a staccato rhythm, he continued to dig.

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