if Carlie got too close to that prowling wolf, he’d leave scars that would cripple her for life. He had to prevent that, if he could. The thing was, he didn’t know how. It was like seeing a wire break and being too far away to fix it.
He could talk to Carson, of course. But that would only make matters worse. He had to wait and hope that Carlie could hang on to her beliefs and ignore the man’s practiced charm if he ever used it on her.
Carson seemed to hate her. But it was an act. He knew it, because it was an act he’d put on himself, with Carlie’s late mother. Mary had been a saint. He’d tried to coax her into bed, but she’d refused him at every turn. Finally, in desperation, he’d proposed. She’d refused. She wasn’t marrying a man because he couldn’t have her any other way.
So he’d gone away. And come back. And tried the soft approach. It had backfired. He’d fallen in love for the first time in his life. Mary had tied him to her with strings of icy steel, and leaving her even for a few weeks at a time had been agonizing. He’d only lived to finish the mission and get home, get back to Mary.
But over the years, the missions had come closer together, taken longer, provoked lengthy absences. He’d tried to make sure Mary had enough money to cover her bills and incidentals, but one job had resulted in no pay and during that time, Mary had gotten sick. By the time he knew and came home, it was too late.
He blamed himself for that, and for a lot more. He’d thought an old enemy had targeted him and got Carlie by mistake. But it wasn’t a mistake. Someone wanted Carlie dead, apparently because of a face she remembered. There might be another reason. Something they didn’t know, something she didn’t remember seeing. Even the death of the man hadn’t stopped the threat.
But he was going to. Somehow.
CARLIE LOVED THE WEEKENDS. At work she was just plain old Carlie, dull and boring and not very pretty at all.
But in this video game, on her game server, she was Cadzminea, an Alliance night elf death knight, invincible and deadly with a two-handed great sword. She had top-level gear and a bad attitude, and she was known even in battlegrounds with players from multiple servers. She was a tank, an offensive player who protected less well-geared comrades. She loved it.
Above the sounds of battle, clashing swords and flashing spells thrown by magic-users, she heard her father’s voice.
“Just a minute, Dad! I’m in a battleground!”
“Okay. Never mind.”
There were footsteps coming up. She laughed as she heard them behind her. Odd, they sounded lighter than her father’s....
“Sorry, we’re almost through. We’re taking out the enemy commander....”
She stopped while she fought, planting her guild’s battle flag to increase her strength and pulling up her Army of the Dead spell. “Gosh, the heals in this battleground are great, I’ve hardly even needed to use a potion... Okay!” she laughed, as the panel came up displaying an Alliance win, that of her faction.
“Sorry about that...” She turned and looked up into a pair of liquid black eyes in a surprised face.
“A gamer,” he said in a tone, for once, without sarcasm. “Put up your stats.”
She was too startled not to obey. She left the battleground and brought up the character screen.
He shook his head. “Not bad. Why an NE?” he asked, the abbreviation for a night elf.
“They’re beautiful,” she blurted out.
He laughed deep in his throat. “So they are.”
“How do you know about stats?”
He pulled out his iPhone and went to the game’s remote app. He pulled up the Armory and showed her a character sheet.
“Level 90 Horde Tauren druid,” she read, indicating that the player was from the Alliance’s deadly counter faction, the Horde. “Arbiter.” She frowned. “Arbiter?” She caught her breath. “He killed me five times in one battleground!” she exclaimed. “He stealthed up to me, hit me from behind, then he just...killed me. I couldn’t even fight back.”
“Don’t you have a medallion that interrupts spells?”
“Yes, but it was on cooldown,” she said, glowering. “And you know this guy?” she asked.
He put up the iPhone. “I am this guy.”
She was stunned.
“It’s a small world, isn’t it?” he asked, studying her face.
Too small, she thought, but she didn’t say it. She just nodded.
“Your father asked a couple of us to take turns doing a walk-around when he’s not here. He had to go out, so I’ve got first watch.”
She frowned. “A what?”
“We’re going to patrol around the house.”
“Carrying a Horde flag?” she asked, tongue-in-cheek.
He smiled with real amusement. “We’ll be concealed. You won’t even know we’re on the place.”
She was disconcerted. “What’s going on?”
“Just a tip we got,” he replied. “Nothing to worry about.”
Her green eyes narrowed. “My father can pull that stunt. You can’t. Give it to me straight.”
His eyebrows arched.
“If it concerns me, I have the right to know. My father is overprotective. I love him, but it’s not fair that I have to be kept in the dark. I’m not a mushroom.”
“No. You’re Alliance.” He seemed really amused.
“Proudly Alliance,” she muttered. “Darn the Horde!”
He smiled. “Better rune that two-hander before you fight me again,” he advised, referring to a special weapons buff used only by death knights.
“It’s brand-new. I haven’t had time,” she said defensively. “Don’t change the subject.”
“There may be an attempt. That’s all we could find out.”
“Why? The guy I recognized is dead!”
“We’re pretty sure that he paid the contract out before he died,” he replied. “And we don’t know who has it. We tried backtracking known associates of the man who made the first attempt, the one who was poisoned awaiting trial. No luck whatsoever. But an informant needed a favor, so he gave up some information. Not much. There’s more at stake than just your memory of a counterfeit DEA agent. Much more.”
“And that’s all I’m getting, right?”
He nodded.
She glared.
“So much frustration,” he mused, studying her. “Why don’t you go win a few battles for the Alliance? It might help.”
“Not unless you’re in one of them.” Her eyes twinkled. “Better watch your back next time. I’m getting the hang of it.”
He shrugged. “I don’t want to live forever.” He glanced around the room. It was Spartan. No lace anywhere. He eyed the title of a book on the desk next to her computer and frowned. “Hannibal?”
“Learn from the best, I always think.”
He looked at her. He didn’t look away.
Her eyes met his and she felt her body melting, tingling. There was a sudden ache in the middle of her body, a jolt of pure electricity. She couldn’t even manage to look away.
“Wolves bite,” he said in a soft, gruff