Cowboy in Wolf's Clothing

by Kait Ballenger

  Stepping behind her, Colt removed the handcuffs from Silver’s saddlebag before coming to stand in front of her again. This time, he placed her wrists in front of her, allowing that intense, steely gaze to sear into her. At the feel of the cold metal against her skin, she gasped. The edges of his temple creased with concern, but she shook her head at him. She’d promised to make this convincing.

  He leaned down and whispered into her ear. “It will be all right.”

  The warmth of his breath tingled down her spine, bringing her back to the feeling of being in his arms in the clearing, of that kiss that had torn her to pieces as much as it had put her back together again.

  His intentions had been clear from the start. Long before he’d known who she was, and even now, as his enemy, they were clear as day.

  I’ll protect you, he had said. You have my word.

  She had no doubt about that truth.

  He stepped back, placing several paces between them. Suddenly, the first of his men burst forth from the trees, two massive Grey Wolves, nearly as large and agile as Colt. Shifting from wolf into human form within seconds, they stood nude before them. As a Rogue, that was one aspect of pack life Belle was certain she’d never get used to.

  “Colt,” a dark-haired Grey Wolf breathed, clear relief across his handsome face at the sight of his packmate alive and well. “Are you injured?” He had a thick, heavy drawl to his voice that sounded straight from Texas, and the brown shade of his skin hinted at Latin descent.

  “Austin,” Colt greeted him. His eyes darted to the other wolf present, the one who appeared to have a permanent scowl etched across his face. He’d be handsome if he didn’t appear so harsh.

  “Malcolm,” Colt said.

  Malcolm gave a grim nod. “We thought you were—” He stopped short as his eyes tracked to Belle and the handcuffs locking her wrists.

  Several other packmembers emerged from the trees. Even with a quick glance, from the way they’d addressed Colt by name and their sheer size, she recognized that the first two must be elite warriors. Everyone knew the Grey Wolves had an elite team, the best of the best, in their fighters. Not that it made the other packmembers any less intimidating. Most of them she’d never seen before, but she recognized one of the guards. He’d led her cellblock. At the sight of her, he blanched.

  Colt turned his gaze toward the guard, his eyes promising he’d deal with him later. “Austin and his team will assume responsibility for Miss Beaumont. She’ll be testifying before the Seven Range Pact. Until then, she’ll be in your charge. Take her to the guest cabin. She’ll be kept separate from the other prisoners.”

  Colt’s eyes flicked toward Belle expectantly. He didn’t even need to speak the order aloud.

  Within seconds, Austin was directing two of the men in his charge toward her. They gripped her by the arms with a firm, commanding hold.

  “In exchange for her cooperation, I expect humane treatment.” Colt’s gaze combed over his men, lingering for the briefest moments on each one of them. “If any of you so much as move a single hair on her head out of place, you will answer to me personally. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you’ll be gettin’ hell from me, too,” Austin drawled. “I won’t be stitchin’ up any of your messes. I may be a medic, but no one’s injured on my charge, especially a woman. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” the soldiers answered back in unison.

  Colt nodded. “Good. Return to the ranch immediately. We have a lot of work to do, gentlemen.”

  The soldiers gripping Belle led her forward, urging her into step with them as everyone started to head back to the ranch, but Colt stepped into their path.

  His gaze raked over her, distant and assessing, as if he barely knew her. It was so convincing, even she had a hard time believing otherwise. He was good. Damn good.

  “Should you change your mind, my previous offer still stands, Miss Beaumont.” He ducked down to whisper in her ear, so low that she knew only she could hear. “I may not promise to call the next morning like a gentleman, but you wouldn’t forget a night with me.”

  She was certain he was right.

  Her cheeks burned hot as he pulled away, but she kept her gaze lowered. With the tight cinch of her lips, she hoped her reaction came across as anger to his soldiers, rather than the way he actually affected her.

  “Consider it.” Colt stepped out of the way in order to let them pass. “I won’t ask again.”

  As his soldiers led her away, she glanced over her shoulder. Those steeled eyes watched her, cold, calculating, and searing straight through her. Every part of her prickled with awareness, the same deep feeling of instinct she’d felt in his arms and again when he’d kissed her. Power play be damned, and somehow, though he’d sworn this would be the last he would mention it, she knew without a doubt that this wouldn’t be the last of their negotiation.

  Chapter 7

  “You seem distracted.” Dean stood inside the Missoula ranch barn beside Colt, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other as he took inventory of the ranch’s supply stock.

  Distracted was putting it lightly. Colt had spent the morning on the subpack’s small training field running drills. Considering the Missoula ranch was only about a quarter the size of Wolf Pack Run, their training field was less than what he was used to. The Missoula ranch, though fully operational and similar in function to Wolf Pack Run, didn’t boast Wolf Pack Run’s underground training facilities and an additional training field like his men were used to, but they were soldiers and cowboys, so they’d make do.

  Even with the field cramped with men, the monotony of drills had left his mind far too much room to wander. After a short lunch break, when they’d regrouped for sparring, it’d become clear to Colt that, for once, his head wasn’t in the fight. Luckily, he’d been able to hand the remainder of his duties over to Austin, the Grey Wolves’ resident Texan and medic, and Malcolm, the dark and hardened Grey Wolf executioner—the Healer and the Destroyer, respectively, both fierce warriors on the battlefield.

  Colt hated passing the buck, but Austin and Malcolm were among the ten elite Grey Wolf warriors who led the pack. Well, nine elite warriors. They’d lost two men at the beginning of the war, and only one among their pack’s finest had been replaced with a new appointment. Maverick had yet to name the last. Colt knew Austin and Malcolm were capable of completing the remainder of the day’s training, and he’d taken the opportunity to volunteer for some ranch work.

  That was what he truly needed. Time in the open mountain air to clear his head, breathing in the bitter cold and working with his hands. The wild abandon of the vast, sprawling land and the life of a cowboy had always called to him.

  Little had he known he’d be stuck on inventory duty.

  In a few weeks, it would be calving season, and it was high time they took stock of their supplies and ordered more sweet feed, powdered colostrum replacer, nursing bottles, blankets, and other necessities. Calving season was their busiest and most stressful time of the year, and its success largely determined their future profits.

  “Nothing on my mind, just zoned out,” Colt replied. He leaned on one of the wrought-iron stall gates.

  Sure, he was zoned out, thinking of a certain gorgeous, viper-tongued she-wolf. He would not continue to think about a woman who was not only his enemy, but who also had rejected him outright. It was her choice, plain and simple, and he respected that, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Silver hadn’t fared much better. The horse, who was tied to a post outside the barn, released a long sigh. He’d been more than a little melancholy and just a tad dramatic about Belle’s absence.

  But Colt had done his due diligence when they’d returned to the Missoula ranch, looking up Belle’s file and gathering information on her. His recollection had been right. As far as they knew, she’d never actively engaged in b
attle or disobedience against the Grey Wolves. She’d simply been the Wild Eight’s physician. The odd part was that there was no record of her being involved with the renegade pack prior to three years ago, just before Wes Calhoun, now Grey Wolf second-in-command, had stepped down as Wild Eight packmaster. Something about the timeline didn’t sit right with Colt. He was missing a piece of the puzzle, he was certain.

  In any case, there was nothing further to discuss with Belle until it came time for her testimony tomorrow. They would drive his truck back down to Wolf Pack Run.

  Dean grinned. “Does zoning out mean you no longer notice when you step straight into a cow patty?”

  Colt glanced to the heel of his boot and swore. “Shit.”

  “That’d be about right.” Dean chuckled.

  While Colt busied himself with scraping his heel through the wood chips and hay covering the barn floor to rid his boot of muck, the Grey Wolves’ front-of-house director scanned the supply shelves and added another checkmark to his list.

  The dark-skinned cowboy oversaw the ranch’s business operations as they pertained to the outside world—both at Wolf Pack Run and with a team of men out at the subpacks. Born a Grey Wolf but having grown up in Oklahoma before relocating to Wolf Pack Run, Dean was used to living among humans. It was his responsibility to coordinate bringing the pack’s cattle to market, as well as dealing with their human business associates and suppliers. To the nonshifters who did business with Wolf Pack Run, Dean was the face of the ranch. The cowboy and Grey Wolf warrior worked hard to turn a profit while keeping his true nature hidden.

  “Where’s the spout around here?” Colt grumbled. He’d need to stick his boot under some water to get this level of mess off.

  “If you weren’t so caught up in your own head, you would have heard me when I told you the spout froze over.” Dean gave Colt a side-eye glance as he combed through the supply shelf, counting how many nursing bottles they had in stock. The bottles were a contingency plan to keep calves alive if they encountered a heifer who refused to nurse or lost one of the mothers during birth.

  As cold and wet a winter as they’d had this year, along with the fact that there was still snow on the ground, the coming spring wouldn’t be as warm as usual, which meant they were in for a rough calving season. Timing was best when the spring calves hit the ground in warm, dry weather, favorable conditions for the young’s survival. When it was cold and damp with many animals huddled inside, the barn became a breeding ground for potential infection and the death of the calves if the pack didn’t stay vigilant.

  Montana weather was fierce and unpredictable, particularly in the winter and early spring, but the northwest side of the state was always in for the worst. Even though the Missoula ranch and the main ranch at Wolf Pack Run outside Billings were only a few hours apart, the difference in weather between the northwest and south/central areas had to be taken into account.

  “Did you put that on the list already? To check the pipes out here when the weather warms?” Dean asked.

  Colt glanced down at his own clipboard, finding it blank. “No.” He placed his hand on his hip as he released a frustrated huff. “Maybe I do have a lot on my mind,” he admitted.

  “A woman?” Dean raised a brow.

  Colt refused to meet Dean’s eyes. Was he that transparent? It’d been only two days, yet he couldn’t help replaying every detail of his and Belle’s interactions in his head. He barely knew the woman, but he found he actually missed their verbal sparring. To make matters worse, he also struggled to consider the pending threat the vampires posed against him and their kind without his thoughts turning to her. He tried to tell himself that it was because the topics were related, but even he recognized it was a piss-poor excuse. He was all manner of fucked.

  …Or not, in this case.

  At least he’d be rid of her soon. Once she was no longer in his territory, he’d have no choice but to stop thinking about her. Upon delivering the news to Maverick, the packmaster had immediately requested a convening of the Seven Range Pact to decide how to deal with the conflict. Colt and Belle were due to return to Wolf Pack Run tomorrow so she could deliver her testimony. Once Maverick received the Pact’s approval—which Colt had no doubt they would receive—he could begin to gather the information and evidence they needed to launch a counterstrike against the vampires.

  Those filthy bloodsuckers would think twice about ever targeting him or the Grey Wolves again.

  “It’s always a woman,” Dean drawled. “That’s the only thing that can bring a cowboy to his knees, that or the broadside of a bull’s horns.”

  Colt imagined himself with a choice of taking on either Belle Beaumont or an angry bull. Horns and all, he’d choose the bull.

  “Not with me.” He brushed Dean off.

  Dean chuckled again. “Oh, ’scuse me. I forgot. There’s no such thing as female troubles for Commander Casanova…”

  Colt winced at the nickname. Only the other elite warriors dared call him that, but the jab still irked him.

  Grabbing his canteen, Colt finally settled on dumping the contents over his boot. It would have to make do until he could give it a true clean.

  Dean eyed him, waiting for Colt to continue. The man could make patience a near-torturous art.

  “I can’t seem to wrap my head around this development with the vampires,” Colt confessed. It wasn’t far from the truth.

  Silver let out a haughty huff in response as if to say Yeah, right. Similarly, Dean gave him a look that said he agreed with Silver. Neither of them believed Colt for a second.

  “Seems pretty simple to me. If those bloodsuckers find a way to feed off us, that changes the whole game.” Dean moved a box of blankets down from the shelf. “But you know that already.” Dean pegged Colt with a hard stare. “There’s something you’re not saying.”

  “Why me?” Colt asked.

  Dean snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft all the sudden, Colt,” he joked. “‘Why me?’ Shit.” Dean chuckled.

  Colt grumbled. “You know what I mean. Why am I the target? There has to be a reason. Why not Maverick, Wes, or even you for that matter?”

  “Likely because Maverick may be packmaster, but it’s you and your commanding strategies, your war tactics and intelligence gathering that are responsible for their losses. Not to mention, you’re more accessible than Maverick, for good reason, and less of a loose cannon than Wes. Why not you is the better question.” Dean started counting the folded blankets in the crate in front of him.

  Dean might be right, and Colt knew the other Grey Wolf elite warriors, the select few who were clued in to the situation, likely thought the same. But Colt had a suspicion it was more than that. Betrayal wasn’t taken lightly among the Grey Wolves, and that was what Colt’s secrets would amount to, even though he’d loyally served their pack.

  There was only one way the vampires could know his secret, and Colt wasn’t even certain such a document existed. But if it did, there were only two people he could speak to who might know of its existence. Asking Wes Calhoun was out of the question, tantamount to admitting the truth outright, which left him only one other option…

  “I have to go.” Colt dropped his clipboard on top of the blanket box and headed for the open barn door.

  “You’re just gonna abandon me like that?”

  “I wasn’t much help anyway.” And he likely wouldn’t be until he took care of this.

  “Damn straight, you weren’t,” Dean grumbled.

  Colt would find a way to make it up to his packmate. Until then, he had a few questions for a certain viper-tongued she-wolf.

  * * *

  The door to Colt’s private cabin burst open, allowing the cold to blow in. The fire in the hearth flickered, the flames briefly dimming to a steady burning ember before roaring to life again. Colt stared into the fire, his thoughts racing. The co
ld at his back sent a chill down his spine, but it wasn’t the wind that caused him to still. It was the feminine voice that accompanied it.

  “You wanted to see me, Commander?”

  It had only been two days, but her voice sounded throatier, deeper in timbre than he remembered, the kind of voice meant for late-night phone calls and meetings in dark corners of a hotel lobby.

  Austin held her by the arms. Her wrists were bound again, though he knew she’d been roaming around without handcuffs inside the guest cabin that served as her house arrest. She watched him with incredulous eyes, as if he’d had nerve to summon her. He’d missed that cheekiness, stubborn woman that she was.

  His eyes darted to Austin. “Thank you.”

  “Course.” Austin nodded as he made his exit. The door to the cabin clicked shut behind him, leaving Colt and Belle alone.

  Colt crossed the room, circling behind her. With one of the keys at his belt, he unlocked her cuffs. When the metal fell away from her wrists, she released a breathy, relieved sort of moan. The sound stirred something low in his belly. What he wouldn’t give to hear her make that sound with her pressed naked against him again. He was grateful her back was to him so she couldn’t see the desire burning in his now-golden wolf eyes.

  “You have no idea how good it feels to have those off,” she breathed.

  He stepped out from behind her, returning to the fireside, and he felt his eyes fade back to their usual color. He placed his hands on the mantel, resting his weight there. The warmth of the flames licked away the remaining cold in the air as the fire cast shadows about the cabin. It was well past sundown.

  “Why’d you bring me here, Colt? We agreed I had to behave as a prisoner. I figured that meant acting as if we were strangers.”

  “And that agreement still stands. You’re here as a prisoner.” He cleared his throat. “Last we spoke, you agreed to testify to the Seven Range Pact, but I need another favor. I need you to tell me everything you know.”

  Belle raised a brow. “About what? I already told you what I overheard in the clearing.”