“If he is, he’s the best-looking, well-groomed one I have ever seen.” Understatement of the century. He was the kind of man T-shirts clung to like a woman wished she could. “Look at him. No coyote could afford to live the way he does, and they certainly couldn’t hire him.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“Albert will take the boat and supplies out to the camp. I’ll meet him upstream, go through the bag long before the other boat gets even close, and will have some answers that way.”
“Geez, Ripley, do you really think he’s a threat?”
A definite threat to her, if not the pack. The attraction to him bothered her on a level nothing else could. And that he seemed oblivious to it and her didn’t help her disposition. “I don’t know, but I’m not willing to bet the pack’s safety on him being only some guy.”
“Some sexy guy.”
Done with the conversation and her pesky sister at the moment, Ripley changed course. “Janey, I think you have a tour to guide.”
“Oh crap, you’re right,” she yelped, grabbing the keys to the old school bus they used to collect the rafters after their adventure through the rapids. “Be careful.”
“Careful is my middle name,” Ripley mumbled to herself.
Once in her office, she watched as the coolers and the dry packs were loaded into the old red outboard motorboat. The mystery man, whose name according to the paperwork was Zames Smith, chatted with the other tourists before getting in the raft and moving toward the rear. Ripley suspected he’d moved back there to interrogate Eric, his guide. God love Eric. He might be strikingly gorgeous, but although the lights were on, no one was home, so any conversation Zames thought to have with him would be sadly lacking.
Albert waved to the group and said something that made the people in the raft chuckle before he roared off to the meeting point. Taking the side door out, Ripley headed into the wooded area behind the building. Once convinced she couldn’t be seen, she shifted. The short electric shock followed by cracking bones flooded pain through her then faded away just as quickly. Shifting sucked but a necessity in her life.
She followed the raft for an hour, observing from the safety of the river brush, until she finally stepped out, curious what Zames would do if he saw a wolf. He glanced her way several times, well aware of her presence. Instead of acting like any normal tourist would have—which would be to alert everyone he had seen a wolf—he remained quiet, as if seeing a wolf in the wild was a day-to-day thing for him. He simply watched her.
Easing into the safety of the brush again, she took off at full run. Albert waited, well out of view of the other boat. She expected him to throw the wet pack at her, but instead, he waved her in.
“You might want to come to camp. Will radioed there has been coyote activity.”
Shifting into human form took a second for her to let the discomfort pass before dealing with Albert’s statement. “At the camp? But that would mean they had to cross the water.” It also meant Will, the cook at the campsite, had been there alone.
“Or, they took their lazy asses up the road fifteen miles and crossed there then hoofed it in. That seems pretty desperate to me.”
“Me, too.”
The coyotes were desperate. Their band leader had given her an ultimatum—become his mate and merge their groups, or he would take her and her pack by force. But until now, only Jeb, the coyote Alpha, had shown any balls. The others still ran at the thought of being near the wolves.
“Will suggested, and I agree, you better get your scent all over the camp. They’re intimidated, if not scared of you, and if your scent has kept them out of the compound, maybe it will keep them off the camp.”
Once they reached the banks of the site, Ripley helped unload the packs and coolers to the holding area along the path where the guests would later collect their things to take up the two-hundred yard path to the campsite. She immediately grabbed Zames’ pack, opened it, removed the expensive black backpack, and rifled through his stuff.
“Who brings only new items when they’re camping? Every item in this pack, from toothbrush to jeans, is brand new.”
“Walt said he’s in the area on business and decided to give us a try. Maybe he only had three-piece suits.”
“I could believe that if at least his toiletries and underwear weren’t also recently bought.” Laying the contents of the bag on the bench, she searched the bottom.
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not here, that’s for sure.” Placing everything as it had been, she returned the pack to its dry sack and set it with the others for the tourists to take with them to camp. “You want help with those coolers?”
“Nope, I got this. Besides, if you want to be gone by the time the raft gets here, you’d best get to it, boss lady.”
With a wink, she headed into the woods, determined that every animal in the area would know she had been here.
***
Her scent saturated everything in the area from the fucking branches to his damned tent.
Throwing his backpack on one of the three wooden cots in the semi-permanent tent he’d taken as his for the night, Z leaned over as lustful urges he hadn’t experienced in thirty-seven years wracked his body. His desire to drive his cock into Ripley Greystone was stronger than even the urges he’d had for his deceased mate, 21, or T, as everyone had called her. Hit by a car while on a mission, T had been unable to heal. Before he could reach her, she’d died. One of his own kind, she’d been a damned good Infiltrator.
They had been raised together, hunted, and trained. For a while, they’d even gone on missions as a couple, until the pack assigned them to work separately. For almost four decades since her death, Z’d been content to be alone and work on his own.
Now, after being dormant for so long, his libido roared to life in full, cockstand force. It didn’t help everything he desired in a woman converged in Ripley—independent, physically fit, but not thin since she still had some meat on her bones, with hips that filled out jeans insanely well. But, more than anything, she was natural, wearing no makeup, the splatter of freckles across her nose giving her an appearance of innocence.
She had been here recently, within hours in fact, and Z would bet the grey wolf he had seen on the riverbank and Ripley were one and the same. She’d been downwind from him, so he hadn’t been able to determine everything he wanted, but the hackles on his neck rose and his wolf screamed to claim her—his mate.
What she experienced he didn’t know. Having hid his scent, he had no idea what that would do to her natural instinct to connect with one’s mate. For certain, he had smelled her arousal the moment it hit her, and, as a result, he hadn’t been able to read a single word on the waiver they had given him.
Now, he had a choice. He could finish his assignment and leave with her none the wiser, or he could follow the desire every nerve ending in his body demanded—claim her and fuck her until she submitted to him. Unfortunately, at the moment, he had to play human for a while longer. Z still had to figure out the goings-on with her pack. Although he hadn’t perceived anything malicious from any of the Greystones, he had yet to meet their Alpha and Enforcer, both of whom would be a gauge for why Ripley had made the trek out to beg Drew for protection, if indeed either their Alpha or Enforcer were aware Ripley had gone at all.
Leaving his tent, Z headed along a well-worn dirt path, past the other tents and his fellow campers. He declined the beer they offered but promised to join them later, which he had no plans to do. Moving along, he continued until reaching the open-air mess tent, where Will, the cook, busied himself grilling steaks.
The young blond man screamed omega. “Dinner will be ready in about half an hour. Feel free to munch on some salsa, start the campfire if you want, or grab a chair.”
“Thanks. Whatever you’re making smells awesome.”
“Wait until you taste it. We pride ourselves on the juiciest, most tender steaks.” Will repositio
ned the foil-wrapped meat around the grill. “After all, if the food isn’t tasty as well as nourishing, what’s the purpose of cooking it?”
“I have a friend who could take some classes from you.” Scooping some salsa, Z popped it in his mouth. He closed his eyes as flavor erupted through his taste buds. If the Omega could make salsa nearly an orgasmic experience, what the hell could he do with steak and beans? “Do you stay out at camp all the time?”
“Pretty much. During the summer I’m here six out of seven days. I would stay all the time, even off-season, if Ripley didn’t think I had to go back to town once a week.”
“So, even when there are no overnighters, you stay?”
Will lifted the cover to check the beans in a cast iron pot. “Yep, sure do. Someone is always on the property for several reasons. One, we don’t want squatters coming in and staying. And then there are wild animals. When I’m not around, someone else has to stay.”
“Even in the off-season?”
“Nah. The tents all have to come down, and this culinary piece of heaven dismantled for the winter, all to be rebuilt at the first thaw of spring. This is a good gig if you can get it.”
“How long have you been with Grey Wolf River Rafting?”
“About two seasons.”
A lie. The river guide, Eric, had given the exact same answer and, although their hair color and styles had changed, and Will now wore a full beard, the site group photo from four years earlier contained the same people. The Internet made being paranormal a bit harder, as the lifespan of most shifters was three times that of a human. Hiding that fact and the slow aging process could be difficult.
“Sounds like the perfect job.”
“Can’t think of any place I would rather be.” Will smiled, and despite his reservations, Z found the joy in the younger male contagious.
The pack treated their omegas well. So many didn’t, and Z found it refreshing. The three omegas he’d met had been happy, talkative, and good at what they did. They were physically strong, not run-of-the mill omegas, but any shifter worth his teeth could discern an omega easily. Even those at the camp who looked like dominants still had the air of being submissive. But all the woman were strong betas, the strongest he’d seen.
Z spun when a branch snapped on the trail leading to the river. Less than a second later, his cock came to full attention. Every fiber of his being knew who approached.
“Ripley, what are you doing here?” Will asked, genuine pleasure written on his face.
She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and wore cargo shorts, hiking boots, and a tank top that didn’t quite cover her ample breasts. Some men may prefer black-lace teddies. Not Z. With a beautiful woman in that ensemble, he would be putty in her paws.
“Hey, Will. I’m taking over for Eric. Gemma’s showing signs of pre-labor, and she wanted her husband there. So, here I am.”
“Rock on. I’ll go let Eric know he is about to be a daddy and to get his hide to his wife’s side,” Will said before turning to Z with an impressed look. “You lucked out. No one knows this river better than Ripley. Hell, I don’t think there’s a guide out there who is better at rafting than her.”
“Really.” It seemed odd there had been no mention of Ripley listed on the website if her talents were so amazing. Will hiked toward the tents set on the hill away from the rest of the guests. Z looked at Ripley. “How long have you been rafting?”
“All my life. I think I navigated this river before I could crawl.” The love of the water burned on her face and in her blue eyes.
Reaching for the bowl of chips, he grabbed one, staying nonchalant, when all he wanted to do was mark her as his. Something that proved more difficult the longer they were together. “So is this the only river you run?”
“For a while it has been, but in my twenties I rafted the Colorado and the Snake. Spent a season on the Salmon. But this one calls to me.”
Typical of many packs, when wolves went through puberty, they were sent out on their own to find themselves and hone their skills. Usually the dominant males left, but sometimes strong betas, too.
“So, having spread your wings, you came home.”
“This is where my family is.” The electric zap caused by her smile nearly brought him to his knees. “So, what brings you to our rafting company?”
“A friend suggested it,” Z said.
She was obviously hunting for answers of her own, trying to drag any info from him she could. Not that he’d make it easy for her.
He added, “I was coming this way for work when I realized I was in the area and thought, what the heck. My friend has been trying to get me to take a five-day rafting trip, but I figured I should try a day-trip first. Fortunately, the town nearby had all the gear I could hope to buy. Somehow, I figured three-piece suits didn’t seem the right attire.”
Her shoulders eased at his answer, her walls coming down, if only a bit. “Smart move taking a short trip. Nothing worse than getting an hour out on a multi-day tour and finding out you hate it.”
“That happen often?” He hoped the more he chatted with her, the more details he could gain about the pack and whatever problems they were having. He had ruled out an abusive Alpha. The omegas were treated well, and they’d be first in line as punching bags for sick, power-hungry wolves. And the betas, with the exception of Ripley, were full of smiles and cheer. She, on the other hand, appeared guarded and always on alert.
“Not too often, but more than you would think.” She turned to Will as he came around the grill. “How long till the grub’s ready?”
He sniffed the air—nothing a human would have noticed. “About twenty. Enough time to check those tracks I found on the hill.”
“My thought exactly, Will.”
“Animal tracks? Mind if I join you?” Z asked. The tall hill would give him a vantage point to see the area better, and with her by his side, he might also glean some information from her.
“Not at all.”
But she did mind, her jaw muscles tightening on a smile. However, she wouldn’t stop a paying customer from exploring the grounds.
Heading toward the steep hill behind the mess tent, she said, “Know much about animal tracking?”
As the two of them hiked the hill, with Ripley in front, her ass at eye level, Z’s cock pointed straight up. He forced his focus back to what she had asked him. “My dad taught me how to track coyotes on our land as a boy.”
She stumbled and fell forward, and he grabbed her waist.
“Hey, are you okay”
She leaned against his front and had to be aware of his erection. She remained motionless for a moment, and Z couldn’t move, fearing this would be the only time he would have her so close. Her warmth rushed through his blood. How had he forgotten this closeness with a woman? Oh right…because thinking of a life with it had been too much to bear after T’s death.
Five minutes or thirty seconds passed, he had no clue, but Ripley finally stepped away and continued up the hill.
“We’re having issues with coyotes. Maybe you can be of help.”
Though she sounded like nothing had happened, her voice took on a breathiness that had nothing to do with overexertion, though Z figured she hoped he would believe that. At the top of the hill, he immediately spotted evidence of coyotes, their paw prints clear in the dried mud. Kneeling, he traced the impressions the pads made.
“How much rain have you gotten this week?”
“Enough to saturate.”
He would have preferred to be in wolf form for this investigation, but that would have to wait until after dark as everyone slept. Hopes for a night of uninterrupted rest dashed away like dust in the wind. “Enough to wash away any other evidence?”
“No, just a consistent sprinkle. Why?”
“See these here? There are several paw prints. These,” he gestured toward several close together, “ belong to one coyote. You see how the impression is deeper? But these belong to two others. This one’s fourth
pad is bent at a bizarre angle like it has something lodged in its paw, or the animal had been hurt and it didn’t heal right.”
“Okay, so you think we’re dealing with at least three?”
As she searched around for more prints, he raised his nose to smell the air, but her scent overwhelmed him to the point of eliminating all others. “They spent a great deal of time here. Yet there is no scat.”
She opened her mouth then rotated away from him. “Maybe we’re missing it.”
T- Rex would have left a lesser trail. No, it meant these weren’t coyote animals, but coyote shifters, and Z would bet his sizable bank account the issues her pack dealt with revolved around this event. He still had more questions than answers, but at least at this point the Greystone Pack posed no threat to the Taos. Standing, he hadn’t been aware she was in the process of returning to reinvestigate the paw prints until too late.
A hairsbreadth divided them, and it took all the willpower he processed to fight the building desire to pull her into his arms. Her breathing quickened, and as he gazed into her blue eyes, her raw sensuality forced him deeper into the cavernous pit he’d fallen in when he’d first seen her.
The words came out on a whisper. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”
“This attraction?” Z raised an eyebrow.
She closed her eyes. “It won’t work. I have secrets you could never understand.”
“We all have secrets,” he said then gave in to his animal nature and claimed her lips, though touching her nowhere else. He burned himself into her, forcing her to recant her words of denial.
It will work. He didn’t know how, but he didn’t think he could walk away from these feelings again. Having ensured the Greystones posed no threat to the Tao Pack, he could make his top priority the safety of his mate. His second would be to figure out the logistics of having a mate not of his pack.
Her deep groan rumbled through him, and every thought but Ripley faded. Passion swirled and something new, something different…something more, accompanied by a fizz running along his spine and through his nervous system, charging his powers. The urge to howl grew.
Infiltrating Her Pack Page 3
