Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

  She just grunted, and mopped up more blood.

  He looked up at her. “Besides, you don't know who I really am.”

  Except, apparently she did. Goddamn it. How did she do that? Some people just had the ability to see things hidden to others. His mother was like that, too. Really annoying.

  Gina sat down on the other side of the booth and regarded him seriously. “Forget your white man's ways, Blue Wolf. They are confusing you.”

  “Don’t know about that, Aunt,” he said, unconsciously slipping into the respectful way of address. “But I am definitely confused.” He leaned his head back on the booth. “Maggie... She’s not what she seems. She’s...working against me.”

  Gina looked at him without expression.

  He let out a ragged breath. “Yet the Dreamers bring her to me every night. So, I'm torn.”

  Gina crumpled the bloody napkin. “Are you sure she is working against you? You must listen as a hunter.” Her gaze grew unfocused. “Maggie is strong, you should join with her.”

  “She has power,” he agreed, thinking of the way she repelled his attempt to smoke her earlier. He shoved his empty coffee cup away. “But she’s with another.”

  Gina's brows snapped together. “Another man?”

  He nodded morosely.

  “No. You're wrong.”

  He let out a humorless laugh. “I saw them together.”

  Gina's expression told him she was unconvinced.

  “And even if I'm wrong about that...she still won't come near me. She's afraid.”

  Gina leaned forward. “She, too, has had dreams, Blue Wolf. Your dreams. It is your dreams she fears. Your dreams, and your confusion.” A faraway look came over the older woman’s face. “There is something else. Something hidden.” She gazed back at him. “Her fear has given her much power. Join with her, and her power will be yours.”

  He shook his head. “Believe me, I've tried.”

  Her dark eyes narrowed. “Then steal it. Only then will she listen to you.” Gina slowly rose from the booth. “You must tell her the way of things, Blue Wolf. You must tell her soon.”

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Sixty-Five

  “Jane! I'm so glad I caught you.” Maggie held her cell phone to her ear as she stood by the Yamaha in front of the Caf, studying the light evening traffic along Center Street for signs of a blue sedan, or anyone else suspicious.

  “Hey! I thought you'd be at that fancy barbecue by now.”

  “On my way. Just thought I'd check in while I’m in town and have bars.”

  She tugged uncomfortably at her baggy coverall, which she'd pulled on for the ride to the Wilkins ranch. Under it was a pink, tea-length silk dress, specially chosen for its ability to shake out wrinkle-free after two months of being squished in a dresser drawer. And not much else. Jeez, she really needed to do some laundry.

  “Find out anything interesting yet?” she asked.

  Jane chuckled. “I certainly found out why you're so interested in Mr. Cooper.”

  “Oh, really?” Maggie frowned.

  Jane's low, approving hum floated over the line. “I'm looking at his driver's license. Hair black, eyes blue, six-three, one ninety-five, date of birth... Hmm...just turned thirty-one. Damn, girl. What a hunk. And we all know how bad driver's license photos are. The guy is to die for.”

  “That would be the operative phrase.” Maggie pushed out a breath. “Well, at least there'll be a nice view when I die.”

  Jane sobered. “Maggie, what are you talking about?”

  She told Jane about the snake pit. And blue sedan guy. “I was so paranoid after seeing him, I even piled all my furniture in front of the door last night,” she admitted with a laugh.

  Jane lowered her voice. “That might not be such a bad idea. Mags, you've got to be extra careful. I found out something pretty creepy.”

  Her skin prickled at Jane's tone. “What?”

  “Remember that accountant of Whitney's we tried to track down before we got the FBI involved?”

  She was pretty sure she didn't want to hear this. “Yeah.”

  “Well, I found him. In the obits. Accidental death by drowning. The police dragged him out of the bay at Newport Harbor.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Look, I know you don’t trust Cooper,” Jane said, “but I think you should stick to him like glue.”

  “Oh!” She’d already adjusted her thinking about him so totally that she’d forgotten her earlier suspicions. “You’ll never guess. He works for the Department of Fish and Wildlife.” She leaned against the Yamaha and squirmed. She just couldn't get used to the feeling of not having any panties on. That would teach her to neglect the laundry for over a week.

  Jane perked up. “CDFW? That's great! Then he's a good guy and can protect you!”

  “Theoretically.”

  “You wearing something sexy?”

  Other than no underwear? Maggie thought of the low cut of her maillot-style dress and wished she'd brought something a little less sexy with her from L.A.. “Pink silk.”

  The good news was she couldn’t have worn a bra with it even if she’d had a clean one. Panties...well, no one would ever know.

  Hopefully.

  “Good,” Jane said. “Always wear silk when you want something out of a man. Works every time.”

  Maggie figured her outfit would pass the test, but wasn't so sure her nerves were up to it. “What, exactly, do I want out of him?”

  “Hello? To protect you, of course.” Her friend's voice now held concern.

  “I can't drag him into this mess.” She fiddled with her helmet strap. “It wouldn’t be—”

  Damn.

  “I was right, wasn't I? It is love. You've fallen for him.”

  With a glance skyward, she felt a turmoil of emotions. “He's just so—”

  “Wonderful? Sexy? Hard and hunky?”

  Maggie laughed. “Tempting. Oh, Jane, everything's so damned complicated. I wish I knew what to do.”

  “Just follow your heart. If he's right, it'll work out. Oh, honey. I wish I could be there for you, and give you a big hug.”

  “Me, too.” Maggie smiled into the phone. “But you've probably got a hot date for tonight, right?”

  Jane laughed naughtily. “Hot's the word. I'm cooking Mexican.”

  “Uh-oh. That means margaritas. Must be someone special.”

  “A detective I met from Pasadena PD. He's promised to bring his special electronic bug-sweeper.” She giggled. “Says he wants to check my bedroom for unauthorized listening devices.”

  Maggie laughed. “Better watch out. He's probably planting one of his own.”

  “With any luck. Have fun at the barbecue, you hear?”

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Sixty-Six

  The party at the Wilkins Ranch was just getting into full swing as Maggie slipped on a pair of strappy sandals and stowed her coverall and boots on the back of the Yamaha. She glanced over the few other motorcycles in the pasture-turned-parking lot, but didn't see any sign of Cooper's Indian. Maybe she'd get lucky and he wouldn't show.

  California live oaks strung with strands of tiny white lights dotted the meadow which held the gathering. Citronella candles flickered over a river of wooden picnic tables. Even at twilight, the whole area looked like a fairyland.

  She threaded her way through the crowd to the drinks table. Nabbing herself a glass of champagne, she resolved to forget about bears, snakes, blue sedans, and especially wolves, and just enjoy the evening.

  She wandered past the buffet tables, aimlessly searching for a familiar face. The sounds and smells of potatoes baking and sauce-smothered ribs sizzling over open charcoal pits made her stomach growl like she hadn't eaten in weeks.

  “I trust you are fully recovered from this afternoon's ordeal,” a suggestive voice murmured in her ear.

  “Really, Rollo,” she said without turning, “it wasn't all that traumatic having you try and seduce me. Believe it or not, that sort of thing has happen
ed once or twice before.”

  “Dare one hope, then?”

  She gave him an inscrutable smile.

  “Ah. It's him, again,” Rollo said, scanning the crowd. “Who is this great kisser, anyway?”

  His survey was interrupted by a hearty slap on the back from their host, Conrad Wilkins. “Timmons, my boy, good to see you. Where've you been keeping yourself this summer?” He turned his attention to Maggie. “I see your taste in women is finally improving.”

  “Ever striving for perfection, Conrad.” Rollo grinned and made introductions.

  “Too bad I can’t say the same of your research,” Conrad said with a half-smile.

  Rollo winked at Maggie. “Conrad, here, is no fan of bears. He's probably cheering on those poachers.”

  “Cheering? Hell, I'm probably paying them!” Conrad's laughter trumpeted over the meadow. “I'd be a happy man if there wasn't a bear within a hundred miles of my livestock. I'm counting on you to tell those Greenpeace pinkos that the bear population is increasing, so we can lift some of those ridiculous restrictions on bear hunting.”

  “Not much risk of that with all the poaching going on this summer.” Rollo gave Conrad a meaningful look. “I've had almost a dozen go missing on me. I figure they’re all dog food, by now.”

  “Roland!” Maggie exclaimed.

  “Sorry, Maggie. Jane Goodall, I'm not. They get me published, but frankly, bears are not all that exciting. No fascinating insights into human behavior to be learned from these lazy brutes.”

  Before she could even process Rollo’s callous remark, a man she recognized as the county sheriff boomed, “What lazy brutes are you talking about now?” He joined the group, shaking hands all around. “Surely not our illustrious Forest Service firefighters?” He raised a playful brow in her direction.

  “Shh, don't say that in front of Maggie,” said Conrad with a guffaw, “or she'll tell the chief, and he'll make sure the ranch burns down next time there's a forest fire.”

  The sheriff turned to her. “Gus wouldn't dare let my best friend's ranch burn to a crisp, now would he, Maggie?” As she laughed, shrugging impishly, he looked her over. “By God, you're much too pretty to be locked up in that lookout tower all summer like some kind of Rapunzel. Can't you get the chief to give you a job in town?”

  She grinned. “I like it on my mountaintop. I came here for peace and quiet, and Tower Eight has plenty of both.”

  “Well,” he said pointedly, “sometimes it could get too lonely out there for a pretty young lady.” He looked at her intently. “Haven't been having any problems with anyone, have you?”

  She eyed him nervously. “Other than the occasional dead bear? No. Why do you ask?”

  “Had a couple fellows at the station asking about some guy camping close to your lookout. I just wanted to make sure he’s behaving himself.”

  “Who, Cooper?” When the sheriff nodded, she lifted a shoulder. “Perfect gentleman. Why? What did they say about him?”

  “Apparently his cousin was convicted of terrorism. They were making sure Cooper isn't up to any funny business. Last thing we need is some terrorist—”

  “Cooper?” She stared at him incredulously. “I don't believe that.”

  Rollo sidled up to her. “Golly, maybe I'd better stay with you until this Cooper bloke leaves town. I could protect you.”

  Conrad and the sheriff both guffawed. “I don't know, Maggie,” said Conrad, showing all his teeth like Teddy Roosevelt. “I’d probably take my chances with the terrorist.”

  Feigning offense, Rollo took her arm and pulled her toward the buffet tables. “Come, Maggie, before they ruin my chances completely.”

  She loaded up her plate with ribs smothered in spicy sauce, corn-on-the-cob, and crisp-skinned potatoes. She and Rollo had nearly finished eating when they were besieged by a circle of the guys from the battalion.

  Pete grabbed her plate and handed it to Gus. “Come on, Maggie! Let's dance.”

  She'd been effectively shanghaied, so she just relaxed into the country two-step Pete led her in.

  On the other side of the dance floor, Maggie spotted Cooper. Black Levi's, cowboy boots, and a shirt the color of the sky on a moonlit evening clung like shadows to his tall, masculine frame. His hair was tied back in the braid he favored. It was all she could do to keep her eyes off him. She stumbled badly when he led a shapely brunette onto the dance floor.

  Pete helped her regain her balance, following her gaze. “Glad to see Coop’s enjoying himself.”

  When Cooper bent close to hear the brunette’s coy whisper, his smile flashed almost as brilliantly as the silver wolf's head bollo-tie at his neck. Maggie turned away. “Not wasting any time, looks like.” She tried not to limp.

  Or to cry.

  “Can you blame him?” Pete said. “After you've spent the last hour cozying up to Roland Timmons?”

  “I wasn't cozying,” she said, coolly studying the strings of colored lanterns crisscrossing the dance floor. “We were eating.”

  The song ended, and as they waited for the band to start up again, Pete gave her a brotherly smile. “You sweet on this Rollo guy?”

  “Hell, no.” Maggie laughed. “I hear he doesn't date anyone old enough to vote.”

  Pete snickered. “So, you'd turn him down?” His gaze darted to the dance floor, then back to her.

  She gave him a withering look. “I did turned him down. What are you looking at?” She pivoted, and saw Cooper watching her fixedly over a head of black curls. He had that look on his face, again—the one from the dream, just before he put the arrow in her heart.

  Music filled the air as the band struck up a new number, but Maggie couldn't hear it over the ringing in her ears. Wordlessly, she walked off the dance floor.

  She fled all the way to the ladies room where, with a shaking hand, she reached for a toothpick from a bowl on the sink. When she had finally calmed down, the counter was littered with broken toothpicks, and the bowl was nearly empty.

  No matter where she turned, how tightly she closed her eyes, she kept seeing his face. That look frightened her more than the poachers, or blue sedan guy, or Whitney coming after her, or anything else in her entire life. With that look, he saw right through her layers of reluctance, defense, and denial, to pierce her very soul.

  That look exposed her for the fraud she was.

  It didn't matter how dangerous it was—she wanted him.

  When he looked at her like that, there was no doubt he knew she wanted him. And when he looked at her like that, there was no doubt in her mind that he meant to take her.

  Her body shivered down to her toes with fear.

  And excitement.

  She tried to convince herself she was wrong, that she was reading things into his expression that weren't there. She told herself she could resist him—for his own safety. And she insisted to herself that it did matter that he'd probably break her heart in the end.

  She had herself just about believing it, too.

  Just about.

  Taking a steadying breath, she made herself walk out into the warm, sultry evening. The noise of the party rolled over her like a stickery tumbleweed, jarring her back to reality. She wanted to escape, to run back to her tower and hide, to avoid Cooper like an IRS audit.

  She reached for another glass of champagne. Or...oblivion. That seemed a pretty good option, right about now.

  She spotted Tommy and Gina lounging on a couple of lawn chairs under a giant oak.

  So, how's life treating you?” Tommy asked jovially when she plopped herself down in a chair next to them. “Anything happen?” He gave Gina a sidelong wink and squeezed her hand.

  “What would give you that idea?” Maggie crossed her legs and arranged her skirt decoratively around her.

  “What's this I hear about Blue Wolf Cooper camping out by you?”

  She lowered her gaze to her sandals. Was everyone was obsessed with the man? “Yep. Unfortunately.”

  “What's the problem?�
�

  “The man's a certified menace.”

  “Sounds to me like you've got a good old-fashioned crush,” Tommy said, grinning.

  “Clearly, you've had too much champagne.” Him and Jane. Totally delusional.

  “Speaking of which.” Gina looked pointedly at Tommy. “How about you playing barmaid for a change?”

  “A pleasure, my dear.” A look of affection passed between them, and he ambled off.

  Gina turned to her. “You shouldn't be afraid of him.”

  She raised a brow. “Tommy?”

  “Blue Wolf.”

  “I can't help it.” Maggie grimaced. “I just don't know what to do about him.”

  “The bears are the Messengers,” Gina said. “Listen, and they will tell you.”

  “I don't understand.” Maggie said, a knot of barbecued uneasiness growing large in her stomach. “How can I listen to bears?”

  “You will know.” Gina's gaze sought out Cooper, who was sitting on the edge of a nearby table, tipping a last forkful of apple pie into his mouth. “You should tell him your dreams.”

  Maggie stared at her in consternation. “What dreams?”

  Gina just smiled. “Okay, then tell me about them.”

  She bit her lip, debating with herself. “Well, I have been having some weird dreams lately,” she admitted.

  “Tell me,” Gina said.

  So, she did. Haltingly, she told her about the caribou dream—leaving out the part about the warrior being Blue Wolf. “He said he was going to kill me because he knew I loved him and wanted him to do it. Then he shot an arrow in my heart and I died.” She took a shaky breath. “He had this strange look on his face. It was completely unnerving.”

  The sound of violent choking erupted behind them. She turned to see Cooper doubled over a bottle of beer, staring at her aghast, Gus pounding on his back.

  She whirled back. She could actually feel the blood drain from her face.

  Tommy returned just then, and handed her a glass of champagne, and one to Gina.

  “Thanks,” Maggie murmured, and took a large, fortifying gulp. Crap. How much of her dream had Cooper heard?