Miranda's Mate by Ann Gimpel

be untrue if I said I were sorry.” Lars flicked the front of his pants. “Imagining the two of you fucking got me going. I will need to take care of myself before I escort the fair fraulein anywhere.” A hesitation. “I do not suppose there is any possibility the three of us could—”
    “No.” Something about the vehemence in Garen’s tone earned him a penetrating look from Lars.
    “Your airplane, my friend. I will be back.”
    “Miranda couldn’t wait to get away from me. She might not be done in the head.”
    “If she is not, I will wait. Unless you wish to watch me.”
    “In a pig’s eye. Go.” Garen waved both hands at Lars. “It’s a good thing we’re friends. My tolerance for perverts is pretty limited.”
    “You know you love me.” Lars blew a kiss and exited the cockpit.
    To distract himself, Garen checked the instrument panel and their course line. He made a few calculations on the in-flight computer and estimated they’d be landing in roughly twenty-five minutes. He radioed the tower with their arrival time.
    Because the airplane didn’t really need his attention, his thoughts returned to Miranda—and to Roulan and ISL, his international human trafficking ring. Getting rid of Derek Roulan was a start, but it would take far more than that to break up his organization. Despite years of research that hadn’t turned up much, Garen was convinced he’d only seen the tip of that iceberg. Set up by pros, the organization had deep claws in nearly every country—including the United States. Of course they had a much easier go in places like Asia where young girls came cheap and parents were much less likely to report disappearances to the authorities.
    Miranda. He shut his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. He’d managed to keep his hands off her for a very long time. What was different about today? Was it that she’d almost died? Or was it because Lars was interested in her, and Garen’s wolf pushed him to stake a claim so she’d be his and his alone?
    “It doesn’t matter.” His words were low and bitter. “I botched things. Should have taken her out to a nice dinner. Courted her…”
    Oh, really? an inner voice inquired drily. And how was I going to do that. She works for me. I don’t date employees. It’s a violation of—
    He clamped a lid on his thoughts. Irritation simmered just below the surface. He’d painted himself into a corner, and he didn’t see any way out. Garen prided himself on a cool, rational collectedness. It had pulled him through situations that would have been the death of lesser men. He’d survived despite his hot-headed wolf side and beaten the odds.
    “Bullshit,” his wolf, who rarely said anything, snarled. “We survived because of me.”
    “Right,” Garen snarled back. “You were a great help at the last shifter gathering. I think you mated with half the females there.”
    “I would have had all of them if you hadn’t called me off.”
    Garen bit back a wry laugh. He and the wolf were two sides of the same coin. It would be foolhardy to jeopardize everything he’d built so carefully in the human world just because his dick was out of control.
    The cockpit door clicked open. Lars, looking a bit flushed, settled into his seat.
    Garen quirked a brow. “Well, how were you?”
    “Same as always. My hand is reliable.”
    Garen waited, but Lars didn’t say anything further. Finally, he couldn’t stand it. “How did Miranda seem?”
    “I wondered if you were going to ask. My airplane. I will set us up on long final.”
    “I already radioed the tower, but it wouldn’t hurt to give them an updated ETA. You didn’t answer my question.”
    Lars shrugged. “She appeared tired. We did not talk.”
    A spurt of relief surged through him. Good. Miranda wasn’t running to Lars with her problems. Garen’s jaw set in a tense line. He still saw Miranda as his. I’m going to have to get over that. Not only isn’t she mine now.