“No need.” A table light turned on, illuminating Clarence Wolfe in the lone chair by the murder board, his massive body causing it to creak when he shifted his weight. He wore dark boots, dark clothing, and a knife strapped at his side. His face lacked any expression, although his amber eyes glowed with what looked like fury.

Angus frowned. “What the hell are you doing here?” He ushered Nari inside, while Roscoe ran full-on to Wolfe and hit the ex-soldier in the knees before jumping into his lap, his tail wagging wildly.

“Trying to be pissed, which is difficult with a mouth full of fur.” Wolfe patted Roscoe and tried to look over the mutt’s back. “Get down, boy.” His voice gentled and he lifted the dog to the floor. “You bought my cabin?”

Nari turned around to face Angus. “This was Wolfe’s? The one he bought to stage an Op in?”

Angus nodded. “Yeah.” Might as well go with the truth.

Wolfe stood, his body vibrating. “What happened to you guys? You didn’t fight each other, did you?”

“Of course not.” Nari hurried forward and hugged their mammoth friend. “Long story.”

Angus shook his head. “Did you get my text about Dana?”

“Yes, and she’s locked down safely with West and Tanaka right now,” Wolfe said. “I got to thinking, and I figured you didn’t really hightail it out of here. So the question was, where would you go? I figured it was a long shot, but here you are in my cabin. So it looks like the team is back together. Right?” His tone strongly hinted that it must be right.

“Right,” Nari said firmly. “Without a doubt. We’re in this together.”

This was exactly what Angus had wanted to avoid. Damn it.

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Nari finished with the very late dinner dishes as Angus made the bed with her fresh linens. Wolfe had stayed through the steak, salad, and dessert, finally wearing Angus down enough that the stubborn bastard agreed to let the team help with his case. It was obvious Angus had had no intention of really leaving town, and the thought that he’d lied to her hurt. She poured herself a glass of wine and turned, wincing as her hip complained with twinges of pain.

Angus straightened, the firelight flickering over his formidable features. His malachite-colored eyes were nearly iridescent in the soft light. He moved toward her and gently took the wine from her hand. “Hurting?”

“Yes.” She looked at the glass. “What are you doing?”

“You have a possible concussion, so no drinking.” His smile held more charm than she liked. “This cabin is in the middle of nowhere, and it’s rather rustic, but there’s one definite plus.” He set the glass on the counter and held out his hand.