Free Her Lone Wolf by Paige Tyler

two hours in the hopes he’d wear himself out, but instead, he’d lain in bed staring up at the ceiling in the dark, alternating between being pissed off at John for manipulating him into working with his ex-partner again and being furious with Danica for pretending they didn’t have a history together. More than once, he’d almost packed his things and gotten his ass on the first flight out of California.
    But regardless of how he felt about Danica and the messed up situation he was in, there was still a psychotic shifter out there killing humans at an alarming rate. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t leave until this was over.
    Even if he’d gotten a good night’s sleep, he’d still be tired of this endless talking. He’d been sitting there for three hours listening to people who’d never left the safe, comfy confines of their offices tell them how to catch a killer.
    The profiler from the FBI was the worst. The guy looked like he was twelve, for crying out loud. Clayne wondered if he’d ever seen a murderer outside the pages of a college textbook. His deeply insightful addition to the investigation? The killer was likely a male between twenty-five and forty-five who hated his father. Well, that was useful. Clayne could walk around the streets of Sacramento asking middle-aged men if they liked their daddies.
    After the profiler finished, the forensic expert took his turn at the podium. He didn’t have a lot to say, either. This killer hadn’t left anything behind beyond common dirt and a few tiny pieces of forest mulch. There was nothing to lead them to where the actual murders had occurred—other than somewhere in the woods of Northern California—and no hairs, fiber, trace material, or DNA that might give them a clue where to start looking for the killer. At least the forensic guy was able to confirm that all the victims had sustained some kind of debilitating injury to their hamstring or Achilles prior to their deaths. Which meant Clayne had been right about the hunter angle.
    Clayne swore under his breath. He’d just handed the feds their first lead, and they all sat around and stared at each other. It was aggravating as hell and he couldn’t suppress a growl. The female agent from the state’s Bureau of Investigation turned around to give him a startled look. He bit his tongue and smiled at her. Apparently, his smile must have been just as terrifying because she quickly turned back around.
    Damn. He had to get a grip on himself. He’d be the first to admit he wasn’t the most patient guy, but he usually didn’t let petty bullshit like this get to him so quickly. After being in the DCO for six years, he was used to it. He did a few head rolls to relax and caught a whiff of Danica’s scent.
    This was definitely one of those times he hated having a superior sense of smell. He’d been subconsciously attempting to push her pheromones to the back of his mind from the moment she’d walked into the room, but it was no good. While he’d been successful in keeping his human half from obsessing on the scent, his animal side had been taking it in the whole time.
    After everything she’d done to him, the smell of her body still had an effect on him. It was like they’d never been apart. If anything, her scent was more powerful than it had ever been. He found himself taking those small, short breaths to capture even more of her delectable fragrance.
    He bit back another growl. He shouldn’t be reacting to her like this. After everything she’d done to him, he should hate her. Her scent should make him physically ill. But instead, it made him remember things he didn’t want to. Things he’d wished now had never happened at all. Like walking into his boss’s office at the DCO that day four years ago and finding her waiting for him.
    * * *
    Washington, DC, December 2009
    Clayne was at the shooting range when John called him in. Despite all the smoke fumes he’d been breathing in for the past hour, he