Page 24 of Paw Inspiring (Paranormal Dating Agency #86)
TWENTY-THREE
M orning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Artek’s office at Northern Winds Security, painting golden stripes across the sleek conference table where Trey Ellis spread out surveillance reports. The familiar scent of coffee mingled with the crisp air filtering through the building’s state-of-the-art ventilation system, though neither could mask the underlying tension radiating from both men.
“German’s been busy.” Trey tapped a grainy photograph showing their target outside a local real estate office. His usual playful demeanor had shifted to something more focused, though a hint of mischief still danced in his gray eyes. “And not in the ‘finding a new hobby’ kind of way.”
Artek’s jaw tightened as he studied the image. Even in the photo, German Lopez radiated an aura of barely contained aggression. The bear inside him bristled, remembering how German had threatened Meara. His protective instincts roared to life at the mere thought of her in danger.
“Put together a small team,” he growled, voice rougher than intended. “I want eyes on him around the clock.”
“Already ahead of you, boss.” Trey’s grin returned. “I’m perfect for undercover work. My natural charm and devastating good looks make me completely inconspicuous. Plus, I do a mean impression of a lovestruck tourist taking endless selfies.”
“Your modesty continues to astound.”
“That’s why you keep me around.” Trey sobered, sliding another document forward. “But here’s where it gets interesting. German’s been meeting with developers, discussing ‘potential parcels’ near Crystal Lake. He’s planning to split up Meara’s land, sell it off piece by piece to the highest bidders.”
A low growl rumbled in Artek’s chest before he could stop it. The bear inside him paced restlessly, furious at the threat to their mate’s territory. His fingers pressed into the polished wood, leaving faint indentations. “He’s persistent.”
“And desperate.” Trey pulled up financial records on his tablet. “His family’s hemorrhaging money. Look at these accounts—they’re diving faster than a bear after honey. No offense.”
“None taken.” Artek pushed back from the table, pacing the length of his office. The morning sun caught his tribal tattoos, making the intricate patterns seem to shift with each movement. His mind raced through scenarios, calculating risks. “A desperate man will take bigger risks. We need to?—”
His phone buzzed. A text from Meara lit up the screen: Still on for retreat planning at your place? Frenchy’s threatening to coordinate security in pink camouflage if you cancel.
Something warm unfurled in his chest, his bear practically purring at her playful tone. Before he could respond, another message appeared: He’s not kidding. He has fabric swatches.
“There’s that look again.” Trey’s voice snapped him back to reality.
“What look?”
“The one you get whenever she contacts you. Like someone just offered you an endless supply of salmon.”
“I don’t?—”
“Your ears are pink.”
Artek glared, but couldn’t deny the heat creeping up his neck. He typed a quick reply: I’m in the conference room now. No pink camo necessary.
Her response came instantly: Spoilsport. See you soon.
A tiny heart emoji shouldn’t have made his pulse skip, but it did. Everything about Meara affected him more strongly than he cared to admit.
“Focus,” he muttered as much to himself as to Trey. “We need complete surveillance coverage. Rhett!”
Their senior security tech entered, tablet in hand. “Already compiled the blueprints for phase two, boss. Triple redundancy, motion sensors, and thermal imaging cameras covering every approach. Plus some experimental tech we’ve been developing. If anyone so much as sneezes near that property, we’ll know.”
Artek studied the layout, noting weak points and blind spots. “Double everything. I want backup systems for the backup systems.”
“Going a bit overboard, aren’t we?” Trey raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I get being thorough, but?—”
“You didn’t smell her fear.” The words came out as a near-snarl. Artek closed his eyes briefly, remembering how Meara’s usual warm, paint-tinged scent had soured with anxiety when they’d discovered the vandalism. How his bear had roared to eliminate anything causing her distress. “After the break-in... she tries to hide it, makes jokes about ‘eccentric decoration,’ but her body language, her scent—she’s scared. And she has every right to be.”
Understanding flickered across Trey’s face. “Ah. So that’s why you’ve been prowling around her cabin at night.”
“I haven’t been?—”
“Please. The security logs don’t lie, boss. Neither does that dopey look you get whenever someone mentions her name. Which, by the way, is exactly the same look you’re wearing now.”
Before Artek could respond, his office door burst open in a wave of floral perfume and maternal determination. Vida Riggs swept in, bearing a massive picnic basket that filled the room with aromas of fresh-baked bread and honey cakes.
“Mother.” Artek pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re in a meeting.”
“And you’re all far too thin.” Vida set the basket down with dramatic flair, her silver hair catching the sunlight as she shook her head disapprovingly. “Especially you, dear. How do you expect to give me grandchildren if you’re wasting away? Bears need proper nutrition for proper courting.”
Trey choked on his coffee, shoulders shaking with poorly suppressed laughter.
“I brought enough for everyone,” Vida continued, producing containers of food with practiced efficiency. “Though I’d have made more if I’d known Meara would be here. She’s looking a bit peaked herself. Artists never remember to eat properly. That won’t do for bearing healthy cubs?—”
“Mother.”
“Don’t you ‘mother’ me in that tone.” She fixed him with a look that had cowed alpha bears for decades. “When are you proposing? I’m not getting any younger, you know. I could expire any day now without ever holding a grandchild?—”
“You’re in perfect health.”
“That’s what they all say, right before tragedy strikes.” Vida pressed a hand to her heart, the gesture worthy of any stage actress. “I’ve already picked out the perfect ring from the family collection. Your grandmother’s sapphire would look stunning on Meara’s artistic hands. And the blue would complement her olive complexion beautifully?—”