Undercover in Conard County

by Rachel Lee

  New York Times bestselling author Rachel Lee returns to Conard County with a supercharged romance!

  When hunters threaten local Wyoming wildlife, investigator Kel Westin vows to catch the perpetrators. But as he’s sent to work undercover with game warden Desi Jenks, Kel finds himself caught off guard by his need to protect her, too. Something tells him both he and Desi are kept awake at night by pasts that won’t let go.

  Desi trusts no one. That includes the sexy former army ranger living in her bunkhouse, posing as a poacher to bait the ring. As a dangerous group gathers in the mountains, she must put her life in Kel’s hands, a move that will change their fragile, growing bond forever...

  Opening his eyes, hanging on to his temper, Kel gave her another soft kiss.

  “I want to do it again. But like I said, let’s take it slow.”

  “Because of me?”

  Damn. Was he messing this up? “Because I want it to be perfect and right for both of us. Okay?”

  Desi nodded, then let her head fall against his shoulder. Relieved, he snuggled her in, astonished that this self-assured woman had exposed so much vulnerability to him. Vulnerability he had never imagined could be part of a woman who presented such a confident face to the world.

  He felt a little shiver run through her, then she softened completely. Staring at nothing, he held her and wondered what he was walking into. What he might be dragging her into.

  * * *

  Be sure to check out the rest of the

  Conard County: The Next Generation miniseries!

  * * *

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  Dear Reader,

  When I was young, I wanted be a forest ranger. Being out in the woods all the time, protecting the wildlife and the ecology... I had such dreams about it.

  Despite a neighbor’s story. She was much older than me, and her husband had been a ranger. Back then, the job was somewhat different. They lived in an isolated cabin in the woods in upper Michigan, and he would often trek away into the forest, leaving her in their snug little log cabin.

  That cabin didn’t seem so snug one winter. My neighbor was pregnant with her first child. They’d made plans how to handle it when she approached term. Months later, it was winter, the snow was deep and he had skied off into the wilderness to do his work, promising to be back in three days.

  Did you know that when bears hibernate, they’re not dead to the world? In fact, sometimes they leave their dens looking for a midwinter snack. Much to my neighbor’s horror, one showed up at her cabin while her husband was away. It kept trying to get in, and she spent several terrified days afraid it would break through the shutters or door.

  To make a long story short...she left the woods shortly thereafter, and her husband found a different job. I can’t say I blame her.

  But I kept my dream for a while anyway, and this story is part of that dream...although it deals with something a whole lot more dangerous than a bear.

  Enjoy!

  UNDERCOVER IN CONARD COUNTY

  Rachel Lee

  Rachel Lee was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

  Books by Rachel Lee

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Conard County: The Next Generation

  Guardian in Disguise

  The Widow’s Protector

  Rancher’s Deadly Risk

  What She Saw

  Rocky Mountain Lawman

  Killer’s Prey

  Deadly Hunter

  Snowstorm Confessions

  Undercover Hunter

  Playing with Fire

  Conard County Witness

  A Secret in Conard County

  Conard County Spy

  Conard County Marine

  Undercover in Conard County

  Visit the Author Profile page at

  Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  Dedicated to my daughter,

  an urban and regional planner,

  who is on the side of preserving nature, too.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Excerpt from Deadly Fall by Elle James

  Prologue

  Six men sat around a poker table in the back room of an historic hotel somewhere in Wyoming. They were only vaguely aware of its history, but the bullet holes that pockmarked the expansive wood bar out front hinted at it. The place was supposedly haunted, too, but they didn’t care and didn’t believe.

  They had business to discuss.

  A new outfitter had shown up late last spring, and from what they could tell, he was unlicensed. The men at the table were unlicensed as well, lying to clients from out of state, telling the nonresidents that they could legally hunt under the outfitter’s license. Not true, but they didn’t care.

  No, they led the hunts into public lands as far away from possible observation as they could get, wined and dined the hunters to make them feel like big deals, then got them their damn trophies, knowing these guys would leave the state immediately.

  Babied them, is what they did, sometimes even setting up the shot and aiming the rifle.

  It was good money, all of it carefully laundered out of state.

  But now some new guy was horning in, and he could be big trouble. Losing a few trophies to the hunters he guided wasn’t as much of a concern as his lower charges. He could force them all to charge less, especially if he got enough people to work for him.

  The bigger concern was that if he screwed up he’d bring a lot more scrutiny to bear and could cause their operations to cut way back until the heat went away. Also, they couldn’t afford to take this fight public by reporting him. Not when they’d spent so long carefully burying themselves below the state’s radar.

  The burly guy with the ponytail slapped his cards facedown on the table. “We gotta eliminate him. As in dead.”

  The other men nodded. If this interloper had just played nice with them, they might have let him in, but instead he’d started a solo operation. No respect. Dangerous.

  “Okay,” said a man whose face was nearly as grooved as the mountainous landscape. “Accidents happen, people disappear out there. Find out where his base is.”

  “I’m hearing Conard County,” said the ponytail man. He knew a lot more, but he wasn’t about to share or reveal his sources to anyone. They had to be well protected. But this guy he wanted dead? He wasn’t what he pretended to be, a fact that ponytail kept to himself. Knowledge was power and he had it. The last thing he wanted was for his partners to wet their pants and run.

  “Well, hell,” said the man with mountain terrain for a face. “He hasn’t set up shop, that I’ve heard.”
<
br />   “Just about to,” said ponytail. “And that’s one of our most profitable areas.”

  “Yeah,” said one of the other men, his voice gravelly from cigarettes, his face weathered until it looked like a map. “He dies. Just make it look like an accident.”

  The ponytailed man nodded and never mentioned that they had a second target: that nuisance of a warden, Desi Jenks. One favor for another. If they guessed that they’d probably all turn into frightened grannies.

  Then they went back to playing cards, unaware of all the past times when just such murderous plans had been laid here.

  Chapter 1

  Senior Game Warden Desiree Jenks, or Desi as she preferred to be known, arrived at the ranch belonging to Jake Madison, just in the foothills of Thunder Mountain in Conard County, Wyoming. She knew what she was going to see. By the sound of things, Jake, who was also the Conard City police chief, was mad enough to shoot someone.

  She couldn’t blame him, and yet, it was her job to stay calm and maintain a good relationship with the local people, most especially the ranchers. She relied on them probably more than they guessed. Like this. Only because of Jake would she have ever known about it.

  She parked her official truck near the front of the house and climbed out. The early October air had a chilly bite so she pulled on her dark green insulated vest over the long-sleeved red shirt that was part of her uniform—and the reason Wyoming wardens were called “redshirts.”

  She retrieved her shotgun out of the rack in the back and loaded a few shells, turning in time to see Jake coming out of the house. A tall, well-built man, he was dressed in his own insulated vest and jeans, and carrying an orange hunting vest.

  “Damn it, Desi,” he said as he strode up to her. “This has got to stop. My land is posted. Nobody asked for permission.”

  She nodded. “I get it, Jake. And it’s getting worse by the year.” She laid the shotgun down on the seat after making sure the safety was on, and reached for her other equipment.

  “No kidding. I suggest we ride if you don’t mind. It’s a distance and pretty bumpy.”

  “Fine by me.” She pulled out her orange hunting cap and crammed it on, then hung the strap of her camera around her neck. Next, she tugged out a pack carrying her evidence collection kit and slipped it onto her back. Jake had donned his orange vest. The man ought not to have to worry about such things on his own land, Desi thought. Posting it should have been enough to keep people away, not that it always was. And he had a small child to worry about, even worse. After pulling on her gloves, she followed him across the dry, hard ground of the yard.

  Jake had already saddled two horses that waited patiently in the barn. Desi shoved her shotgun into the saddle holster, then mounted the big pinto easily. The ranch hand just outside waved as they passed by, clearly about to climb into a battered pickup.

  Riding side by side, they moved quickly. “Did you find it?” she called to Jake.

  “Larry did. He came riding back to tell me, so I went out and...well, the air turned kinda blue. Crap, I hate poachers, but my cattle are out there, too. The hunters must have chased that bighorn down the mountain.”

  “Maybe.” It was still a little too early for the bighorn to be migrating to much lower altitudes. Later in the month or early next month, as the weather got colder and mating season drove them, they’d come down lower, seeking a safe valley for rutting. But that didn’t fit this place or this time. Yeah, some hunters with dogs might have driven him down. Or maybe he was sick. She’d have to find out.

  Twenty minutes later they approached the site of the kill. She could smell it. Must be two days old. Rain the last two nights. No footprints of any kind to help her investigation.

  But there was no question about what she saw in the tall yellowed grass. “Damn,” she swore.

  “Yeah,” said Jake. “And double damn.”

  The remains of a large ram’s body lay headless in the trampled grass. Trophy hunting. God, it sickened Desi. The meat left to rot, which was a crime unto itself, the animal expertly skinned for its pelt...and the carrion eaters had already started their job.

  The horses didn’t like the smell, and began to sidle and nicker. Hanging onto her reins, Desi swung down and passed them to Jake. “You take the horses back a way. I need photos and samples.”

  The wolves had already been here, along with the hawks and vultures and ravens. Not good about the wolves. Desi hated to see any of them get killed, but if they menaced Jake’s herd, he was going to do exactly that.

  Half an hour later, she’d retrieved all the evidence she thought she’d find, including a single bullet. Straightening, she walked over to Jake. “We gotta get it out of here. Wolves found it only recently. Maybe they didn’t catch the scent right off because of the rain. Anyway, they haven’t finished feeding yet, maybe scared off by Larry, but they’re probably watching right now, waiting for a chance to finish it.”

  Jake nodded as he passed the reins back to her. “Larry’s bringing the truck out. I guess I can’t take the carcass up the mountains? And it’s no good for anyone to eat now.”

  Desi stared at a mess she felt bordered on some kind of desecration. Leaving it here would attract the wolves. Moving the remains...depending on where it was dumped there could be some legal issues. Mess though it was, it was still evidence.

  She sighed. “You know you can’t dump the meat, Jake. It’s probably useless at this point, especially since I have tissue samples, but I should take it in for evidence anyway. Nor would burying it keep the wolves away.”

  “Got my herd to worry about.”

  “I know. Help me get it into the back of my truck. I’ll cart it to an evidence freezer, not that I expect we’ll locate whoever did this. But we can’t leave it here.”

  “Guess we’re going to be keeping a sharp eye out the next few days.”

  Desi just shook her head, her stomach roiling with anger. “It stinks, Jake. I can’t tell you how mad this poaching makes me. Bad enough in the mountains, but worse on private property. So I guess I need to go back for my truck.”

  “Larry’s coming. He’s taking the longer way around. I knew I was going to have to do something about this one way or another. I don’t want any wolves eyeing my herd.”

  “No, you don’t,” she agreed. Then she offered some casual conversation, seeking a way to avoid erupting. “How’s Nora?” His wife.

  “The doc says she still has a month to six weeks, but if you ask me, that woman is about to pop.”

  Desi managed a laugh. “She must be miserable.”

  “She’s getting there. The nursery’s all ready, James seems to understand he’s about to have a baby sister, and Nora...well, she’s at the point where I have to stop her from moving the furniture. Nesting, one of her friends calls it, but would you believe I caught her trying to move a sofa bed? Must weigh damn near two hundred pounds.”

  “Um...wow.”

  Jake chuckled, though he didn’t appear at all happy at the moment. “Yeah. An understated version of my reaction.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she heard the unmistakable approach of a truck. Turning, she saw Larry in the battered red pickup jolting his way over uneven ground. Between the three of them, it didn’t take long to get the remains wrapped in the plastic Larry had brought along, and soon Jake was dousing the bloody ground with gallons of vinegar from the back of Larry’s truck.

  She rode the pinto back to her truck, taking her time because she’d have to wait for Larry. Jake stayed behind because he was concerned about where his fence had been broken, allowing this ram to get through.

  No point calling anyone, she thought as she rode. Even if this hunter had a valid permit, he’d have to keep at least the horns attached to the skullcap to prove what he’d killed. No, this guy wasn’t going to tell anyone around here about th
e kill, especially when he’d wasted the meat. Permit or no, the sheep had been killed on posted land, making it poaching. No truly legit hunter would do that. Legally, however, the hunter had fifteen days to report the kill. Two down and counting. She wasn’t holding her breath.

  She had to remain calm and collected. It was her job. Much as the anger churned in her stomach, she had to keep her head clear. It wasn’t always easy. She’d been businesslike with Jake because she had to be, but she shared his fury.

  This was happening too often. In her five years at this station, she’d seen the increase, and she had little doubt that the trophy hunters were coming from outside the state.

  Yeah, locals poached. It happened often enough, but the main difference was, while they might exceed the limits of their licenses, or even hunt without one, they kept the meat. They wanted the meat.

  Trophy hunters were something else altogether. A big, beautiful ram had been killed just so some idiot could put its head on a wall and its skin on the floor. Wasting the meat was against the law, too, so even if this jerk was licensed to take that ram, he’d committed a crime.

  Not to mention the little bit of trespass that was involved. Now Jake would have to spend days looking for where they’d broken through his fence, while guarding his herd from wolves who might now think they could find easy pickings there. Bad for Jake. Bad for the wolves. Bad for the whole darn ecosystem.

  Desi enjoyed a lot about her job. She loved keeping an eye on the migratory animals, making sure they were able to trek and that they were healthy. She loved everything about protecting the wildlife around here, even when it meant giving someone a hard time for fishing without a license, or exceeding the catch limit. And she loved it when she caught a poacher.

  But this...these guys weren’t going to be easy to catch. They came and went like ghosts, clearing out as soon as they had their trophy. They didn’t hang around waiting for a neighbor to become suspicious or someone to catch sight of what they were doing and call the wardens. Nope. Ghosts.