“What’s wrong?” Now she was grumpy and tired, and she didn’t appreciate being woken up for nothing.

Chris’s attitude toward Rourke had irritated her, once she’d gotten over the fact that Hunter had added Rourke to the pack by accident. If she could accept Rourke, everybody in the pack should. He was a nice enough guy, and he tried damned hard to fit in, readily acknowledging that he was a werewolf once the deed had been done. At least as far as she’d seen.

“Did that Cyn Iverson get in touch with you?”

She stared at the bathroom mirror, barely seeing her disheveled appearance because her mind was trying to sort out what Chris was saying. “Cyn Iverson?” she finally asked. Instantly, she thought of the figure by the pine tree at the hotel where Anna was staying.

“Yeah, he said he’d been out of the country on a job and had just gotten back in, and he wanted to hook up with you. Once he learned you’d left California, he traced the pack here. I told him you were staying somewhere but didn’t know the exact address. He said he’d find you.”

She felt a slight chill. “How?”

“How should I know? I thought maybe you’d kept in touch with him. I have no idea who you’re seeing, or whether Hunter approves or not.”

She parted her lips, then closed them. Okay, so Chris was still irritated about her having gone out to dinner with Cyn. Hunter had chewed Chris out royally for letting her get away from him during her shopping trip to Sacramento. She hadn’t apologized to Chris about it, either. Why should she have? She had every right to eat out with Cyn, and she wasn’t the one who had forced Chris to get hung up in a video store, perusing the merchandise.

“I’m worried about you,” Chris finally said, and this time her jaw dropped. “Hell,” he continued, “I just wanted to warn you that the guy is looking for you and—”

“Did you tell Hunter?”

“No. I figured you could. I didn’t tell the guy where you were. Hell, I don’t know where you are.”

“In a safe house. And perfectly safe. Thanks for telling me.” Now she felt bad because even though she’d speculated that Chris had a secret affection for her, he’d always acted annoyed with her because she was looking for a mate and not giving him the time of day. If he’d teased her about it, maybe, or handled it some other way, his behavior might not have irritated her so much. “Finn will keep me safe.”

Dead silence.

Was that what was eating at Chris? That he hadn’t gotten the job of protecting her? That an outsider like Finn, a good and loyal friend of Hunter’s, would get the job instead of a trusted sub-leader within the pack?

She sighed. “You’ve got your hands full, Chris. You’re doing a great job.”

“Baby-sitting Rourke, sure.” The bitterness was back.

Yeah, he was irritated all right. He had to watch over Rourke instead of protecting her.

She was going to say she’d tell Finn that the guy she had wanted to see was trying to locate her, but she thought better of it. She knew Finn would want to know all about this man, and there wasn’t anything to say about him. Besides, now that Hunter was no longer in the Navy, maybe he wouldn’t be so against her seeing the guy. Finn certainly wasn’t interested in her long-term. And all in all, she wanted a mate.

“I’m going back to bed. ’Night, Chris.”

“Meara…”

His hesitation told her he wanted to say something more. She assumed he wanted to smooth things over between them, but she wasn’t interested in him as a prospective mate. Never had been and never would be.

“’Night,” he finally said, sounding resigned. And hung up.

She’d be glad when Hunter returned home to continue mentoring Rourke. She hoped her brother didn’t plan on leaving Chris with the job because he’d be impossible to live with.

With that thought, she grabbed her clothes from the bathroom counter and wondered if Cyn had taken a room at the hotel where Anna was. It had been late, and the cabin resort would still have been an hour away. Besides, Meara would have been in bed by then. Seeing Finn with her had stopped Cyn from approaching her. She’d just bet he called the pack sub-leaders, or at least one of them, to learn if she was mated before he wasted his effort on trying to see her further.

Since Cyn was still trying to locate her, Chris must have said that Finn was staying with her to keep her out of trouble, not that he was a potential mate.

Maybe she still could see if Cyn might be her kind of wolf.

***

Meara sure as hell knew how to make him hard in a hurry, Finn thought. He had finally managed to sleep a few hours but woke wanting her again. She couldn’t know how much he’d fought the desire to haul her into his bed in the master bedroom the night before when he’d found her in the bathroom freshening up. If she’d thought to sleep in his bed, away from him, she’d have never managed it.

Daylight was dawning as he breathed in her sweet fragrance and then frowned to smell the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen. That’s what had awakened him. As light a sleeper as he was, he was fairly certain he would have noticed if the sultry siren still wrapped in his arms had awakened and left to make the coffee, even for a moment.

Intent on ensuring that the person who’d started the coffee was one of their operatives and not someone dangerous—although he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to do them harm who would brew coffee first—Finn slipped out from under Meara, trying not to disturb her slumber. He grabbed his gun off the bedside table and moved down the hall in stealth mode.

Upon reaching the dining area, he glimpsed Bjornolf watching out the back porch window, studying the ocean as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Still angered about the man kissing Meara without her permission and now breaking into the safe house without permission, Finn stormed toward Bjornolf.

He moved so quickly and silently, like a stealthy SEAL and a wolf combined, that he caught the intruder off guard. Bjornolf turned, as if suddenly aware of Finn’s approach. But Bjornolf reacted too late.

Finn’s fist smacked him in the jaw, throwing the startled deep-cover operative off balance, and he went down.

Sitting on his butt on the tile floor, his back resting against a kitchen cabinet, Bjornolf rubbed his reddening jaw and stared up at Finn. “What the hell was that for?”

“You know what the hell that was for.” Finn set his gun on the kitchen counter and poured himself a mug of coffee.

Realization apparently dawning, Bjornolf’s mouth curved up some. “She didn’t kiss me back, if that’s what you’re pissed off about. But I didn’t think she’d tell you about it.”

Bjornolf’s gaze shifted to the dining room, and Finn turned to see Meara observing the two of them, slack jawed.

She wore only that skimpy damned pajama shorts set, which was fine for Finn’s eye, but not for Bjornolf’s.

“Want some coffee?” Finn asked Meara, pulling another mug from the cupboard. He wanted to hustle her back to the bedroom to get dressed, but he figured if he made a fuss about it, he would draw Meara’s ire and no doubt earn Bjornolf’s amusement.

“Why is Bjornolf here?” she asked, her voice almost inaudible, making him suspect that she had just walked in and hadn’t seen him hit Bjornolf—or even realized Bjornolf was here at first.

“Apparently, he decided to come and make us some early-morning coffee.” Finn cast Bjornolf an irritated look.

Frowning, she asked, “Why is he sitting on the floor?”

Finn glanced down at him, and Bjornolf grinned at her as he rose to his feet, rubbing his jaw again. “Finn packs quite a punch. Seems you told him I kissed you last night in the lobby, and he was defending your honor.”

“He hit you?” She gave Finn a severe look, then set his phone on the counter and turned her attention back to Bjornolf. “Finn didn’t need to. My honor is quite intact.” Motioning to Finn’s phone, she said to him, “Anna called and said Paul had arrived safely last night. I thought you might want to know that.”

Glad that Paul and Anna could watch each other’s backs, Finn said, “Good.” He poured Meara a cup of coffee, although he still wanted her to return to the bedroom and put more clothes on. But when he handed the mug to her, she shook her head and marched past him.

“Give it to Bjornolf. I’ll drink some green tea, if they’ve got any.”

Finn silently handed Bjornolf the second cup of coffee, which he accepted with a polite nod.

Meara pulled out a box of green tea flavored with mandarin oranges. “We’re all on the same side so I expect you both to play nice.” She started a kettle of water and turned to Bjornolf. “But you really should have been more careful when you came here. You should have knocked on the front door or something first. You could have been shot sneaking into the house. At least I assume that’s what you did.”

“No place around here to get a decent cup of coffee.” Bjornolf smiled at her. “As to my getting injured? Finn’s too good at his job. He would have known it was just me.”

She eyed Finn, but he didn’t make a comment. Meara was right, he thought. He might have shot Bjornolf, but he had picked up Bjornolf’s scent as he’d drawn closer to the kitchen. Then again, the way he was feeling about Bjornolf kissing Meara, he still might have shot him, just on principle. He smiled at the thought, and Bjornolf gave him a hint of a knowing smile in return.

Meara poured the hot water in a teacup, dipped the bag a few times, then tossed it in the trash and headed out of the kitchen without another word to them.

“Truce?” Bjornolf asked Finn before she disappeared down the hall.

Finn grunted in response.

Bjornolf eyed Meara with intrigue. When he caught Finn’s look, he raised his free hand in surrender but then said, “I’ll get her permission next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Fat chance of that, Finn.”