Page 8 of His Brazen Mate

Megan's nerves tingled with anticipation and a deep sense of foreboding. She had been able to piece together enough information to believe that Northern Lights Distillery was involved in some illegal activities, any of which could have proven fatal to Drake’s father. Strangely, Megan had never suspected his father, Magnus, of being involved. But the one thing she was sure of was that whatever was going on was dangerous and possibly deadly.

She couldn’t help noticing what a fine figure he cut as she followed behind him. He was tall with broad shoulders, a trim waist, and a truly glorious ass. She did wonder what kind of shifter he might be. Not because she saw him as her fated mate, but it was more out of simple curiosity. In her mind, she could hear her snow leopard snort as if to say, ‘You just keep telling yourself that.’ Her snow leopard had already begun purring at him. Megan hoped he couldn’t hear her. She was determined to ignore the growing attraction she felt for Drake for a variety of reasons including letting it cloud her judgment. She had a job to do, and no bourbon-making fated mate was going to stop her.

Drake walked them to the back of the house and unlocked an ornate set of French doors.

“Those don’t look like they were original to this place,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re beautiful, but rustic Alaskan they’re not.”

He grinned. “You’re right. My father hated them.”

“Wasn’t he alpha?”

Drake nodded. “Yes, but my mother loved them. When they visited New Orleans, my mother saw two sets of them and fell in love. My father wanted my mother happy, so he bought all four, shipped them home and had them installed here in the office and upstairs in the primary suite going out to the balcony.”

Megan smiled. “My father would have done the same for my mom.”

“Are your parents still living?”

“No. They were with a group of other people and were ambushed by an arms dealer and his goons. They were killed. I left our clan looking to get even.”

“And did you?” he asked.

“Eventually. I had planned to kill the sonofabitch. I actually had him in my sights but got talked off the edge, so to speak, by a guy who’d been working undercover for more than a year.”

“Why did he stop you?”

“If I’d killed him, he would be dead and someone would have risen up to take his place. He convinced me if I stood down and came to work with him, we could dismantle the whole operation and keep a lot of other people from being killed.”

“Hmm… so I don’t get an Interpol vibe, and not really FBI, so ATF?”

“Why can’t I just be a shifter helping another shifter?”

“Because you aren’t.” He waited but said nothing. “I already know you’re some kind of law enforcement. I have a friend who can find out your identity before you can get back to your vehicle.”

Okay, he wanted to impress/intimidate her. Megan could play. “So, Jasmine Chen is really as good as they say?”

Drake grinned again. He had a very dark and brooding countenance, but when he grinned, his entire face changed. “You recognized Jasmine?”

“I did. Tell her Megan said hi. You aren’t the only one who has contacts in the intelligence community.”

He nodded. “So, ATF.” Megan raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Jasmine doesn’t work with the Bureau or Interpol.”

Megan laughed. “Touché.”

Drake opened the door, holding it for her. Megan stepped inside. She reminded herself that even though she was all but certain that Drake wasn’t a part of what had been going on at Northern Lights, she couldn’t afford to relax. She had a job to do. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and leather-bound books. It was a scent that reminded her of her time growing up within her clan. It was nostalgic and comforting. The dim light added a sense of secrecy and danger.

"This way," Drake said, his voice low and tense.

Megan glanced around the office, noting the stacks of paperwork and ledgers scattered across the desk. Given his naval background, she had expected Drake to keep a much tidier space. She had to wonder what might be contained within this mess that had caused Drake’s concerns. It almost appeared as if he’d begun to suspect something and had then tried to find anything to prove himself wrong. Her mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information she had gathered. She suspected Drake had found evidence that suggested Northern Lights was no longer just a family business but something far more sinister. Her own investigative work had led her to believe it was a corrupt organization composed of a complex web of secrets and lies.

Drake turned to face her; his expression unreadable. "I never did undercover work. All of my missions were covert, but I didn’t have to be anybody but me. I was a SEAL…”

“A highly decorated SEAL. Your ops are kind of legendary, and I know for a fact there’s been a bounty on your head for years.”

“I would think undercover would be lonely.”

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