Peter leaned back from the desk as he cycled through the Alexa database for news articles on wolves. He and Richard normally switched off, taking turns to do the monthly checks for out-of-place shifters. You never knew when you'd find one that might be a good fit for Frost Security.

Recently, their efforts had almost entirely tapered off in the last six months when they'd welcomed Matthew Jones into their group. If Peter wanted to keep them all employed, and at a respectable rate of pay, he needed to consider keeping the team at five people. There was only so much work they could rustle up, and he knew it.

But diversity mattered, both in talent and personality. For instance, it'd be good to have a female shifter around. It would bring a different perspective to the variety of tasks people hired them for.

This was enough database mining for one day, though, especially with a new client on the books.

And what a client they'd pulled in. Not only was she a local—it was always good to help people from town and generate goodwill—but she was Richard Murdoch's one true mate. Richard, of course, didn't know it. But Peter knew from the look his father always had as he gazed at his mother, and from the lore they'd told him as a pup. Once a shifter found their partner, they were in it for the long haul.

Peter remembered that feeling well, and it still tore at him that he'd had to leave his all those years ago. It was like a silver bullet right through his heart every time he thought of Vanessa. But what was he to do? She was gone.

No, the best thing for him, now, was to focus on his pack and its happiness. If it had taken a cut-rate deal on their services to make sure Jessica Long hired Frost Security for her case, then that was what it had taken. End of story. What was his pack mate's happiness compared to a few more dollars? Now, with Peter's help, the ball was in Richard and Jessica's court. All Peter Frost could do was sit back and wait, and help Richard with the protection detail as much as he could.

He leaned back in his chair, stretched, and let out a big, growling yawn that seemed to shake the glass walls surrounding him. It was getting late in the day, and his stomach grumbled for another meal. Rubbing his eyes, he closed the web browser and shut off the computer. That was enough database searching for now. If there were any more shifters out in the wild waiting for a friendly tail wag before they joined a pack, they'd still be there tomorrow. He grabbed his sidearm from his desk drawer and stuffed it in his hip holster, then headed out to the front.

“Calling it a night, Peter?” Gen asked as he stepped out into the waiting area. She was busy at her desk finishing up some last minute paperwork—payroll probably. He could hear Lacy, too, somewhere off in the rear of the office, her music blaring as she worked away at research for Murdoch.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, nodding. “Need to catch a quick nap so I can relieve Richard tonight. You leaving soon?”

“Soon,” she agreed. “Just need to finish up this last little bit of billing for the jobs down in Denver, then I'll be right behind you.”

He nodded, his stomach grumbling again, catching even Gen's attention. She looked pointedly at him.

“Don't worry,” he said, raising his hands up in surrender, “I'm going to eat, too.”

“Not just another burger, I hope.”

He laughed as he turned to leave. “No, of course not,” he said, pushing open the office door and letting himself out onto the old patio. “Steak,” he called back over his shoulder, just as the door closed.

Peter took a moment to stand there, looking out over the quickly darkening town. The mountains to the west shaded Enchanted Rock below them, making for an early sunset. Sunlight bathed half the little hamlet in golds and yellows, lighting it up like it was on fire. The other half was painted in muted grays and blues—sad tones, like they'd hired Picasso to design the place.

The Rock was a good town. A quiet town, a place where he and his pack could run free at night, where they could find work and be left alone when they wished. He didn't regret setting up shop here, or bringing Richard with him. This had been a good choice, a solid one, made even better by the friends they'd made, like Gen and Lacy, and the new pack members they'd managed to recruit.

But still, worry gnawed at him. Something was coming, and he knew it. He'd smelled it in the wind the other night, while the pack had been returning from their romp in the river. Just a whiff in the air, but still a familiar scent that he remembered from his parents' home back in Pennsylvania. Even though the estate had burned to the ground months before while he was off serving in the SEALs, he could still smell that cloying scent over everything. It had practically seared itself into his memory.

He sniffed the air again, his human-form senses not nearly as attuned as his wolf's, but still strong. All he could smell, though, was pine and spruce, and the rich, loamy aroma of summer. He smelled the soil fed by dying leaves and needles, plants fed by spring runoff from the snowy mountains, and the smoke from an open grill as some hunter out on the other side of town cooked a venison steak.

His stomach grumbled again. All these questions about the case and the odd, sinister scent could wait.

Right now, all he could think about was supper.