A man at war with himself
In all her years as deputy sheriff, Shelby Kincaid never met a man as stubborn as Dakota Carson. Practically eaten by a grizzly bear and still that man insists on returning, alone, to his isolated cabin in the Tetons. Shelby’s not even sure why it ruffles her—but she suspects it has a lot to do with the instant, powerful connection she feels with Dakota. If only he’d let down his guard with her....
Ten years as a navy SEAL took its toll on Dakota’s body, his mind and his heart. Since being released, he’s endured months of painful physical therapy…and brutal nightmares. Dakota wants nothing more than to hide from the world, so why does Shelby’s gentle presence suddenly make him question his seclusion? But when Shelby’s life is threatened, Dakota knows his warrior spirit won’t hide any longer. He just hopes it’s not too late....
Praise for
LINDSAY McKENNA
“McKenna skillfully shows that it’s all about the romance and not only the sex. After all, hard work, honesty and trust is what western romance is all about.”
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“McKenna’s latest is an intriguing tale…a unique twist on the romance novel, and one that’s sure to please.”
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“Riveting.”
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“An absorbing debut for the Nocturne line.”
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“Gunfire, emotions, suspense, tension and sexuality abound in this fast-paced, absorbing novel.”
—Affaire de Coeur on Wild Woman
“Another masterpiece.”
—Affaire de Coeur on Enemy Mine
“Emotionally charged…riveting and deeply touching.”
—RT Book Reviews on Firstborn
“Ms. McKenna brings readers along for a fabulous odyssey in which complex characters experience the danger, passion and beauty of the mystical jungle.”
—RT Book Reviews on Man of Passion
“Talented Lindsay McKenna delivers excitement and romance in equal measure.”
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“Lindsay McKenna will have you flying with the daring and deadly women pilots who risk their lives.…
Buckle in for the ride of your life.”
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Also available from
Lindsay McKenna
and Harlequin HQN
The Defender
The Wrangler
The Last Cowboy
Deadly Silence
Deadly Identity
Guardian
The Adversary
Reunion
Shadows from the Past
Dangerous Prey
Time Raiders: The Seeker
The Quest
Heart of the Storm
Dark Truth
Beyond the Limit
Unforgiven
Silent Witness
Enemy Mine
Firstborn
Morgan’s Honor
Morgan’s Legacy
An Honorable Woman
Coming soon
High Country Rebel
Down Range
To all the service men and women who have suffered PTSD during combat. You are not alone. Nor are you forgotten. There is help out there. Please know we honor your courage. And thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your service and sacrifice to our country.
And to the wonderful, warm and caring staff at Hotel Opera Roma in Rome, Italy. This dedication was well earned. Thank you. www.hoteloperaroma.com.
Dear Reader,
Having been in the U.S. Navy and having had Marine Corps friends in combat, I’ve seen what war does to a person. Post-traumatic stress disorder came into being in the 1980s. Before, it was simply “battle fatigue” or the “thousand-yard stare.” Whatever it is/was called, the wounds our men and women in the military get from combat are real. War isn’t always in a foreign country. Police, firefighters and EMT/paramedics can suffer from it. PTSD is a global phenomenon and can take decades, even a lifetime, to heal from, if ever.
In The Loner, I wanted to bring PTSD to the surface and deal with how it affects the hero, Dakota Carson. A person who has PTSD may well feel like a “loner.” This can be overcome with help, love and understanding. When sheriff’s deputy Shelby Kincaid meets Dakota, she is drawn powerfully to the angry loner. Shelby feels strongly that everyone should help Dakota instead of throwing him away. They soon realize they share a horribly tragic link, and this creates a meaningful connection between them—and unexpected danger. Can Dakota engage his SEAL-driven experience in order to save her?
Strap in for one hell of a ride.
Lindsay McKenna
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER ONE
DAKOTA CARSON SENSED danger. A fragile pink dawn lay like a silent ribbon along the eastern horizon. As he exhaled, white clouds congealed for a moment in front of him, telling him it was below freezing on this June first morning. Standing on a small rise at the edge of an oval meadow, he studied a football-field-long swath of willows that ran through the center.
His left arm ached in the cold, reminding him why he’d been discharged from the U.S. Navy and his SEAL team. He’d suffered permanent nerve damage during a firefight. Never mind the post-traumatic stress disorder he coped with 24/7. Now his hyperalertness was telling him something wasn’t right. But what was wrong? Eyes narrowing, he scanned the quiet, early morning area. To his right rose the majestic Teton Mountains, their white peaks taking on a pinkish alpine glow.
It was quiet. Too quiet. He’d been a SEAL for ten years and at twenty-eight, he was no stranger to threatening situations. He knew one when he felt it. To his left, he saw a gray movement. It was Storm, a female wolf he’d rescued a year earlier. Thus far, she treated him like her alpha mate, but he was sure she wouldn’t hang around as she matured. There was every possibility she’d leave him and join the Snake River wolf pack that ruled this valley in Wyoming. Storm was loping at the edge of the forest, ears twitching back and forth, nose in the air, picking up scents.
Yesterday Dakota had laid five rabbit traps out in these willows. It was one of many places he trapped in order to live outside society and the town of Jackson Hole. Since being released from the hospital and months of painful physical therapy to get his shoulder working, Dakota wanted to hide. He didn’t look too closely at why, only that he had to heal up. Ten years spent in the SEALs had been the happiest time of his life, but deployment into Iraq and Afghanistan had taken their toll on his body and emotions.
Sniffing the air, he tried to locate the source of the threat. Grizzlies had their own odor. So did elk. No stranger to studying the land and vegetation, Dakota could spot things few others could. His sniper SEAL training had taught him stealth and tracking.
Storm had disappeared into the tree line again. The months of May and June were prime elk birthin
g season. It was also the same time when hungry grizzlies came out of hibernation, starving for anything to eat. Elk babies were the number-one food source on their menu. Storm always hunted her own meals. She was looking for smaller prey. One wolf could not take down a baby elk. A pack was needed, instead.
Dakota studied the willows, his hearing keyed, but he heard nothing. Had an elk mother calved a baby in there? What was he sensing? Just because he could sometimes feel a threat didn’t mean he knew what the threat was. If a new elk calf was in there, a grizzly could be skulking around, out of his sight, trying to locate it. The bear could have picked up on the scent of the afterbirth before the mother could eat it and destroy the odor. The thick, naked willows reminded Dakota of a porcupine with its back up, the crochetedlike needles raised skyward. The problem was they grew so high and thick, he couldn’t see through the grove. There was no movement. No sound.
The air was still. Nothing seemed to move, which was odd because dawn was the busiest time of the day for nocturnal and diurnal animals. The pink along the horizon deepened and the sky above lightened. Dakota could no longer see the myriad stars above his head; they were diluted, having disappeared in the dawn light. It would be a long time before the sun would rise, however. He heard a raven cawing somewhere off in the distance. Other than that, it was as if the earth herself were holding her breath.
For what? He rubbed the back of his neck with his gloved hand, but his old shoulder injury protested with the movement. After allowing his hand to drop to his side, Dakota shouldered a .300 Win Mag Winchester magnum rifle with a sling across his right shoulder. He’d been a sniper in the SEALs and had used this rifle to hunt down the bad guys. Out here in the wilds of Wyoming, where grizzly were the predator, Dakota never tracked or hunted anywhere without a big rifle. Grizzlies, especially this time of year, were hungry, irritable and mean. All they wanted was food and they’d kill anything and anyone to protect their carcass or find.
Dakota wasn’t foolhardy. Patience was his best protection. A bear would move eventually, and the willows would tremble and wave back and forth. But if it was an elk calf?
Dakota waited on the rise. He was downwind, something he made sure of because he knew the grizzlies were hunting in earnest. Dakota didn’t want his scent to inspire one of those bears to hunt him, thinking he was a posthibernation meal on two legs. His mouth pulled at one corner over that thought. He’d seen enough mayhem and killing.
After his discharge from the navy, his medical issues as fixed as they were going to be, he’d located a cabin high in the Tetons on the Wyoming side of the mountains. He’d cleaned it up and started living in the ramshackle, abandoned structure. Never mind that it didn’t have electricity or running water. He’d spent the past year in hiding and needed the solitude. There was so much grief and loss in him, he didn’t know what to do with it or how to discharge it. Sleep was a luxury. He rarely got two or three broken hours of sleep at night. His heart sank as he considered all that he’d lost since he was seventeen years old and then more losses in the navy. Wounded in a field of fire deep in the Hindu Kush Mountains of Afghanistan, he found his life repeating the nightmare cycle of his teen years.
It’s too much pain... Too damned much. Purposefully, Dakota lasered his attention on the willow stand. This was the present. When his mind wandered into the past, it was nothing but a mire of serrating grief, rage and helplessness. He didn’t like feeling those turgid emotions. His stomach growled. It had been one day since he’d last eaten. The winter had leaned him down considerably, but he wasn’t starving. Dakota set out enough traps to keep meat on his table, but a sudden, unexpected snowstorm yesterday had stopped him from walking his traplines and gathering up the rabbits he’d caught. A cutting, one-cornered smile creased his face. In Afghanistan, his SEAL team endured days without food, water or resupply. So twenty-four hours without food wasn’t a tragedy.
He had the traps set up in those willows. Rabbits were plentiful in the wide valley through which the Snake River wound lazily. Had a starving grizzly already found his traps and gobbled up the rabbits? Was that the reason for the sense of danger he felt?
He had to take a chance. Shifting the Win Mag to his left shoulder, he looked down at the P226 SIG Sauer pistol strapped low on his right thigh. The two black Velcro straps around his thick leg held the pistol at just the right angle in case he needed to quickly reach for it. All SEALs were given this particular pistol after they graduated from BUD/S. The .40-caliber pistol was specially made in Germany for them. And it had stopping power. One slug would take a human’s life.
The wind had piled up the blizzard snow. Patches of long yellow grass peeked out here and there. As he walked, the grass in the meadow crunched beneath his boots. Each yellowed blade of grass was coated with thick frost. With each step, Dakota tried to stay as silent as possible. The sound could possibly alert the elk mother hidden in the willows. He moved down the gentle slope toward the center of the meadow. Dakota knew from experience an elk mother would defend her calf with her life. And an elk weighed a good thousand pounds, its hooves sharp and dangerous.
Dakota brushed the butt of his SIG Sauer with the palm of his gloved hand. It was an unconscious habit honed in the badlands of the Middle East. He’d unsnapped the retention strap across the pistol so that if he had to reach for it, his palm could fit swiftly around the butt and his fingers could wrap around the trigger. He could draw it up in a single, fluid motion in order to protect himself. He had no wish to shoot an elk. His meat needs were far less than that.
Slowing, the light increasing, Dakota inhaled the scents on the frosty air, his nostrils flaring. He halted and searched for tracks. Some of the grass was clean, shaken free of the frost and snow, about twenty feet south of where he stood. It had to have happened earlier this morning. Craning his neck, Dakota evaluated them. Big print? Little print? Something in between? He had keen eyesight, honed by years of hunting as a teen and, later, as a SEAL. The tracks appeared to be that of an elk.
Dakota stood, debating whether to enter the willows or not. He was used to being afraid but didn’t let that rule him or blot out his logical thinking processes. As Dakota turned his head, he could see Storm was trotting the other way along the tree line above him. Her long pink tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth, her gray body blending in to the surrounding shadows. He stared back hard at the willows in front of him. He’d placed the rabbit traps deep within them. Rabbits weren’t stupid; they were not going to hop around on the outer perimeter of the willows. Something would quickly spot them from air or ground and they’d be dead in a heartbeat. No, they lived deep within the willows and could thrive.
Just as Dakota took a step forward, the willows exploded in front of him. A cinnamon-colored male grizzly bear roared and crashed through them and launched himself at him. The roaring vibration ripped through him. Dakota took half a step back, seeing the bear’s small dark eyes filled with rage. In an instant, Dakota knew the grizzly had been in the willows all along. He’d probably eaten all the rabbits he’d trapped and was snoozing until he heard Dakota approach the stand. Startled and provoked, the bear charged him. The attack was so swift, all Dakota saw was the grizzly’s thick rust-colored body hurtling toward him at the speed of a bullet.
Dakota’s shock collided with his survival training. It would take too long to pull the rifle off his shoulder and fire off a shot. Without hesitation, as the bear flew toward him like a flying tank, his hand moved smoothly in an unbroken motion for the SIG Sauer on his right thigh.
The bear’s spittle, his roar, surrounded Dakota. As he lifted the pistol, he shifted his weight to the right to try to stop the grizzly from fully striking him. If he hadn’t moved in a feintlike maneuver, the bear would have slammed him flat on his back, leaned down and ripped his throat out with those bared yellow fangs. At the same moment, Dakota saw the female wolf come out of nowhere. Storm snarled and flung herself directly at the grizzly, her jaws opened, aiming for his sensitive nose. I
n her own way, Storm was trying to protect him. The valiant wolf was a mere forty pounds against a thousand pounds of angry bruin.
Everything slowed in his line of vision. Whenever Dakota was in danger of losing his life, the frames of reality intensified and then crawled by with excruciating slowness. The grizzly saw him shift, but Storm latched onto the bear’s nose. The grizzly roared, swiping at her. The wolf yelped and was flung high into the air. The grizzly tried to make a midcourse correction. As he raised his massive paw, the five curved claws flexed outward, the blow struck Dakota full force.
The SIG Sauer bucked in his hand. Dakota held his intense focus, aiming for the bear’s thick, massive skull. The grizzly roared with fury as the first two bullets struck his skull. They ricocheted off! Dakota felt the grizzly’s paw strike his left arm. Pain reared up his arm and jammed into his already torn-up shoulder. He grunted as he was struck and tossed up in the air like a puppet. The massive power of a pissed-off thousand-pound grizzly was stunning.
As Dakota tumbled end over end, all of his SEAL training came back by reflex. He landed and rolled, the cold glittering frost exploding around him on impact. He leaped to his feet. The bear roared, landed on all fours, whipped around with amazing agility and charged him again. Only ten feet separated them.
Dakota cooly stood, legs slightly apart for best balance, hands wrapped solidly around the butt of the SIG Sauer. This was not a bear gun, but if he aimed well, he’d strike the charging grizzly in one of his eyes and kill him before he was killed himself. His breath exploded from him as the bear leaped upward, its jaws open, lips peeled away from his dark pink gums to reveal the massive, murderous fangs. Dakota fired three more shots and saw the third one strike into the right eye of the bear.
Too late!
As he threw up his left arm and spun to avoid the grizzly pouncing on him, the bear’s massive teeth sank violently into his forearm. There was instant, red-hot pain. The bear grunted, fell downward. Dakota was flipped over and dragged down with the bear, his arm still locked in the animal’s massive mouth.
The Loner Page 1
