Wild As a Wolf by Paige Tyler

Author:Paige Tyler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks

Chapter 15

As much as Hale wanted to stay, he stood to leave along with the rest of the guys. He was both surprised and relieved when Karissa grabbed his arm.

“I’d like you to stay,” she said, her green eyes imploring. “Please.”

He couldn’t deny the sensation of warmth that crept up through his stomach to settle deep into his chest at the request. As if he would ever say no to her.

“Of course,” he said, giving her a smile.

Hale caught Karissa glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he sat down. She’d been doing that a lot since they’d gotten back to the SWAT compound, and it wasn’t that hard to understand why. He knew she’d been freaked out after seeing how injured he’d been in that fight earlier and couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t go to the hospital when she urged him to.

Her concern had faded over the past few hours, however, replaced by confusion as she’d watched his wounds heal right in front of her eyes. She hadn’t remarked on it or even asked him about it but, instead, continued to regard him with wonder. Even if she tried to hide it.

“Can you see the photo I’m sharing?” Davina asked, her image replaced on the big screen by a large portrait of a British guy dressed in a red military uniform. It looked like one of those fancy oil paintings in a museum from the time of the Revolutionary War.

“That’s him!” Karissa said, her hand coming up to grab Hale’s, squeezing tight. “That’s the guy I fought the other night who nearly killed me.”

Hale flinched. Nope. He still didn’t like hearing her say those words out loud.

Another portrait popped up on the screen, this time of a man in a dark jacket and a white shirt with the collar tips just showing above an equally dark ascot. It took a moment for Hale to realize that the man in the two paintings was the same guy. Not only that, but he appeared to be the exact same age even though the paintings had to be at least forty years apart—Revolutionary War and the Regency period.

“Oh, fudge,” Karissa murmured. “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

Two more paintings appeared on the screen. One was of their mysterious guy sitting in a fancy upholstered chair with a shotgun in one arm, his free hand resting on the head of a hunting dog. The other showed the man in another military uniform, this time from World War I. The man’s face hadn’t changed a bit, even though nearly a hundred and fifty years had passed.

Photos took the place of oil paintings for the next few images. There was a black-and-white picture of the man in an officer’s uniform on the deck of a large warship, and then another black-and-white of him leaning against a wall in front of a castle. The last one, in full color, showed him dressed in a suit, sitting in a boardroom.

“I

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