Excerpt:
Harley
caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of her eye that made her snap her
head around, but she didn’t see anyone. Sure she’d seen something,
she skirted the outside of the dance floor in that direction. She was starting
to question herself again when she spotted a tall, attractive guy with broad
shoulders, casually disheveled brown hair, and scruff on his square jaw. He was
circling the dancers on the floor in much the same way Harley was but in the
opposite direction, keeping pace with her so they stayed exactly opposite each
other.
Yeah,
like that’s a coincidence.
A little
voice in the back of her head told her to get on the radio and call Caleb and
the rest of her teammates, but she ignored it, too mesmerized by the handsome
man across the room from her. Every few seconds, piercing blue eyes locked with
hers, making something inside her—maybe her inner wolf—feel a sensation she
didn’t recognize.
Even if she
hadn’t picked up on the scent, Harley would have known he was a werewolf from
the graceful, animalistic way he moved.
He was a
predator, no doubt about it.
Was he a
kidnapper as well?
She wanted
to say he’d never do anything like that, which was an asinine thing to consider
about a man she’d never met.
Tired of
stalking in circles, Harley stopped, turning carefully to keep her eyes on the
big werewolf as he moved closer. She wasn’t sure, but for a brief moment, she
thought she caught sight of what might have been a smile tugging at his
sensuous mouth. The other werewolf—an
alpha most definitely—strode past the last few people
separating them and came to a halt a few feet away. Harley couldn’t ignore that
the man in front of her was possibly the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen.
Which pretty
much guaranteed he was one of the bad guys.
Because that
was how her luck worked out when it came to the opposite sex.
Harley took
a single step forward and felt a tingle in her stomach
when he did the same, that dangerous smile showing up
again. She took another few steps toward him when his head whipped to
the side. She looked that way, too, trying to see what had attracted his
attention, and caught sight of two men slipping behind a black velvet curtain
covering a section of the far wall. The second guy cast a furtive glance over
his shoulder before disappearing.
That
isn’t suspicious at all.
She turned
back to the alpha werewolf, but he was already striding
in that direction. She quickly followed, knowing she
should call the rest of the team, but once again, her instincts insisted she
hold off. By the time she slipped behind the curtain, all she saw was another
set of stairs. The mysterious werewolf was nowhere to be found.
She paused
long enough to slide a hand under her dress and pull the small frame Glock 9mm
from the tiny holster strapped to her upper thigh, chambering a round as she
started down the steps, rather proud of how comfortably she handled a
loaded weapon. Considering that before joining STAT she’d never even held a
gun, she thought she was doing rather well.
From down
below, she heard the rhythmic sound of rapid footsteps along with the soft
murmur of voices but no music or partying people or anything else to make her
think this was a part of the dance club open to the public. Whatever the hell
those two guys had come down here for, it probably wasn’t on the up-and-up.
Lit only by
three low-watt bulbs mounted in cobweb-covered fixtures hanging from the rough
stone ceiling, the room at the bottom of the steps was filled with crates,
racks of empty bottles, and bags of trash. The dim glow was barely enough to
throw shadows, but Harley didn’t need a lot of light to see the werewolf
standing a few feet away, his broad back to her, a pistol down at his side.
“You always
bring a gun when you go to a nightclub?” he asked without looking at her.
His voice
was as deep as she’d imagined it would be, a little rough with a hint of a
British accent, like he’d traveled extensively for much of his life and lost a
bit of the distinctive sound over time.
“A girl has
to be careful these days,” Harley said, smiling even though she was standing in
the middle of a filthy storage room twenty feet underground with an alpha
werewolf who’d probably lured her down here with kidnapping in mind—or worse.
“I’ve heard big cities can be dangerous.”
The man
turned to look at her, blue eyes piercing even in the dimness as they slid up
and down her body. “If you think it might be dangerous, why come to Paris? And
all the way from America, if I’m not mistaking the accent.”
The Brit’s
perfectly sculpted nose lifted a little, his nostrils flaring
the slightest bit, like he was trying to take in a
scent he found tantalizing. Harley knew he was picking up her pheromones and
couldn’t help wondering what she smelled like to him.
Did he like
her scent?
Did she care
if he did?
“You know
the song ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun,’ right?” She approached him slowly,
glancing around and trying to figure out where the other two men had gone.
“Maybe visiting potentially dangerous places is how I have fun.”
“Strange
hobby,” he said, his voice dropping down an octave to practically make her
tummy vibrate…as well as regions a bit farther south. “I prefer reading, but
whatever. You do you.”
Harley
lifted a brow, lowering her gun to a safe position. “Is that what you’re doing
down in this dank, dark room?” She stepped to the side a little, making him
circle to the right as they resumed the little dance they’d done upstairs.
“Looking for a good book?”
He snorted,
coming to a stop again a few feet away. “We both know that’s not what I’m doing
down here any more than you’re here looking for some fun. So, as
entertaining as this banter is, I think it’s time we get on with what really
brought us here.”
Harley was
almost disappointed but knew the man was right. While she’d enjoyed their
verbal jousting, she was here for more important things.
***
Excerpted from Undercover Wolf by Paige Tyler. © 2021 by Paige Tyler. Used with
permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks
Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
About the Author:
Paige Tyler is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of sexy,
romantic fiction. Paige writes books about hunky alpha males and the kick-butt
heroines they fall in love with. She lives with her very own military hero
(a.k.a. her husband) and their adorable dog on the beautiful Florida coast.
