Gray Wolf Security: Wyoming

by Glenna Sinclair

  What was I thinking? I couldn't ride six miles on the back of this horse! By the time we got to the camp ground I'd be dead, lying flat on the ground, trampled by the very steed that was supposed to carry me up there. Animals didn’t like me, and I definitely didn’t like them!

  I grew up in the city in a three-bedroom apartment sharing a bedroom with my two older brothers. This... this wide-open range thing... not me.

  What the hell was I doing?

  But then Becky winked at me from where she sat proudly atop her mount in the middle of the street, a soft smile bringing a little bit of a twinkle to her perfect blue eyes.

  Oh, yeah...

  I was nearly across the road when I just happened to notice a dark SUV pulled over to the side of the road, a blond man barely visible behind the wheel. Odd. Why was he pulled over when everyone else was waiting patiently behind the barriers Grainger and Sutherland had created with their vehicles?

  And then it completely slipped my mind as my horse took off on the trail that wound through the open pasture in front of us.

  I grabbed the reins even harder and pulled back. The horse slowed, but then he started to back up, rearing his front legs just enough to make me feel the ground rushing up at me.

  "Relax," Becky said, moving up beside me and laying her gloved hand over mine. "He can sense your fear. You need to show him that everything's good."

  "How do I do that?"

  But the horse was already calmer, lowering his head to sniff at the dirt below us. Becky patted his neck, winked at me again, and then moved forward to lead the group up into the hills where we'd be spending the next two days in close quarters.

  If I survived this ride.

  I stayed at the back of the pack, watching how easily the tourists took to their mounts. I knew for a fact that many of them had less experience than I did, but the quick lesson Sutherland and Becky had offered before we headed out seemed to have made experts out of them all. I was still hanging on for dear life, reevaluating everything about my choices these past few months. When I heard Ash Grayson was looking to add a few new operatives to his payroll, I'd jumped at the opportunity to work with this legend I'd heard so much about. He was once a member of the same Green Beret unit I served with for the past three years, a hero to many who still remembered him. He worked with the CIA, helped with the groundwork that eventually led to the death of Osama Bin Laden. He was a God among the people I admired the most. To work with him was like getting a chance to work side by side with the big man himself, you know? So, when at my interview, we hit it off like old buddies and he told me that he had a special assignment in mind for me, I hung from his every word.

  "We just opened a satellite office up in Wyoming," he said to me. "The wife of a buddy had a ranch up there she's trying to run on her own and we're sending her as much work as possible to try to generate new revenue for her, help her keep her place up and running, you know? It's also convenient that she's just three hours from Cheyenne and we're working with the FBI on a big drug bust that will probably take place there in the next month or two. We hear you're pretty impressive with logistics. We want you up there helping to plan this thing out."

  And I agreed. Never crossed my mind I'd be living on a damn ranch. Never crossed my mind I'd be getting horse shit on my loafers every damn morning as I walked from my room to my truck. And it really never crossed my mind that I'd fall for a woman who looked that incredible on the back of a damn horse!

  Here I was, out in the middle of nowhere, chasing after a woman who'd made it clear she wasn't interested in a relationship with me, when Ash was—at this moment—getting off a plane to work this big bust I'd planned out down to the second and I was going to miss all the excitement.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  "Are we going to stop for lunch?"

  I glanced at the young man who'd asked that question, my stomach clenching at the thought of food as my thighs literally screamed out in pain.

  "I doubt it."

  "I'm starving!"

  "Why don't you distract yourself with the landscape, Alvin," the woman beside him said. "It's gorgeous out here."

  Listen to your girlfriend.

  I urged my horse to speed up a little, my thighs not really appreciating the new pace, holding on tight to the reins as we bypassed most of the tourists. Becky was talking with an older woman who was clearly more experienced with horses. Becky was smiling, a carefree smile that made me forget the pain in my body for just a second. There was something irresistible about that smile, something that made my bones turn to soup. My mother told me once that that was how she felt every time my father smiled at her.

  It was like my soul knew before the rest of me that he was the one. Like our hearts recognized something in the other that was unmistakable. We were simply meant to be.

  She always told me I'd find the one who made me feel that way. She never warned me, however, that once I found her, she might resist what seemed irresistible to me. Or that I'd have to ride a damn horse to get her attention.

  "Some of the guys back there are wondering if we'll be stopping for lunch."

  Becky glanced back over her shoulder. "We can take a break."

  She turned her horse and instructed everyone to dismount. I thought I'd be grateful to get off the back of that horse, but the second my feet hit the ground, my knees felt as though they would buckle. I suddenly understood why cowboys walked bowlegged so much of the time. There was soreness in places a man really didn't want to be sore. I bit back a groan, aware of the curious eyes of some of the tourists on me, not to mention the loud complaints Becky was already dealing with from some of the other novice riders. Instead, I busied myself helping the older woman who'd been riding with Becky tie up the horses.

  "I'm Janice," she said, offering me a hand.

  "Lance."

  "You work at the ranch?"

  I nodded. "Just started not long ago."

  "Must be interesting, working on an actual dude ranch."

  "I'm more of the administrative type."

  "I guess it is more of a business these days." The woman's eyes clouded over a little. "Nothing like it used to be back when being a cowboy meant something."

  I thought of Hank and Grainger, of the way they seemed excited just to be around the horses most days. "I think it does still mean something. Just not for me."

  She nodded, her gaze shifting to Becky. "She seems to really enjoy it. I was asking her about her job and her eyes just lit up when she talked about the horses and the people she works with." She shrugged a little. "Must be nice to be living your dream instead of just paying to do it on vacation."

  She walked off, but her words lingered with me. Becky really did glow when she talked about the horses. Even now, walking among these people, answering the same stupid questions over, and over again, she seemed content. Truly content. That was such a rare thing these days.

  Maybe I could learn to appreciate a horse. I patted the neck of the massive gelding she'd been riding, trying not to flinch as his massive eye studied me.

  "What is it about you?" I asked him quietly. "Why does she let you in, but not me?"

  The horse neighed softly, nudging my shoulder like he was trying to tell me something. Probably just wanted one of those sugar cubes he knew she kept in her pocket.

  "A lot of help you are."

  Chapter 6

  At the Ranch

  "Ash," Sutherland sighed, walking into the big man's arms.

  "How you doing, Sutherland?" he asked as he wrapped her up in a big bear hug. "I heard about the horse show. That's fantastic!"

  She laughed. "Everything that's going on and that's what you congratulate us on?"

  "That's what my wife was most excited about. She wanted to come, wanted to congratulate you herself, but Ford's got this cold."

  "That's too bad. I'll have to give her a call later."

  "Do that. She's anxious to speak to you."

  Sutherland turned and waved
her arm to indicate the large space on the bottom floor of the new bunkhouse. "It's finally finished. What do you think?"

  He nodded, moving deeper into the room to get a better view. "Nice. Much bigger than our offices back in Santa Monica."

  "But based on the same open floor plan."

  "And you've got a better view," he said, indicating the glass wall along the back of the room that looked out on the acres of land that comprised this section of MidKnight Ranch.

  Kirkland walked up then, a huge smile on his face.

  "Hey, brother!"

  Ash turned and engulfed the man in another bear hug, clearly thrilled to see his friend. They spoke quietly to each other for a moment. Sutherland moved back, not interested in intruding. But time growing short. They were due to head out to Cheyenne very soon.

  Sutherland was going. This would be the first big operation at Gray Wolf she would physically be participating in and she was nervous, but excited all at the same time. It was the sort of excitement she remembered feeling before a major operation when she was in Army. The kind of excitement that drove excessive adrenaline through her body and made her ready for just about anything.

  Grainger walked into the room with petite little Ryan Babcock, their latest hire. Ryan looked like a twelve-year-old—except, of course, for the curves she cleverly kept hidden under baggy clothing—but she was a tough nut. She was in the Marines for seven years, an impressive enough service, but most of her missions were still classified, suggesting that she took part in some bad ass operations. She came from a family of cops on her father's side, and a wealthy ranch family on her mother's. She grew up riding bulls in the junior rodeo, setting records that still stood in North Texas. And, in just the three weeks she'd worked for Gray Wolf, she'd already proven herself capable by saving Hank's ass when he was nearly shot by an angry embezzler he'd been working a case against.

  A few minutes later, the rest of Ash's team arrived and it was like some sort of family reunion. Mabel—Kirkland's wife—came down from the main house, joining the party as Donovan Pritchard, David Grayson, and Kipling McKay came into the room.

  Kipling strolled over to where Sutherland was standing back, watching the hugs and kisses, the jokes and laughter, danced around the room. Kipling, Donovan, and Ash had all been in the same Green Beret unit with Sutherland's husband, Mitchell. She actually met Ash before she met Mitchell, though once she saw Mitchell... and Kipling had been a source of strength for her when Mitchell was killed. Although, until this Gray Wolf thing came up, they hadn't seen each other in years, there was still this special bond between the two of them.

  "How are you, darling?" he asked, approaching with a warm smile.

  She shrugged somewhat nonchalantly, but then she moved into his arms with an enthusiasm she wouldn't show to anyone else. He held her tightly, his lips pressed to the top of her head as he took a deep breath and breathed her in.

  She stepped back after a long moment and slapped him on the arm.

  "Shouldn't do that, Captain," she said. "Your new wife might have a few questions about our relationship."

  "My wife is a very understanding woman," he said with a little bit of a flirty wink. "Besides, she knows all about you."

  "Does she now?"

  "Definitely. I know better than to keep secrets from this woman. She's see right through me with the first word."

  Sutherland laughed. "Sounds like the perfect woman for you."

  He agreed, nodding enthusiastically. His eyes literally glowed just at the mention of his wife and that made Sutherland beyond happy for him. Kipling's wife and daughter were murdered not long after Mitchell died. A man was arrested and convicted in the months afterward, but that offered Kipling very little comfort and for years afterward he devoted his life to making sure the man suffered as much as possible in jail. And then, not long ago, he discovered evidence that proved the convicted murderer was innocent.

  Sutherland had been frightened for Kipling. He changed so much after the murders and he went AWOL not long after the man's innocence came to light. But looking at him now, it was so clear to her that the final resolution of the case, the truth of the murders having come out, had brought him back to the man he used to be. And she couldn't be happier to see that.

  Love changed everything, Mitchell—her tough, no nonsense husband—had told her once. If this wasn't proof of that, she didn't know what could be.

  Kipling chucked Sutherland's chin gently. "What's up with you these days, girl? All work and no play?"

  She shrugged. "I'm running two businesses now and raising a daughter. I don't have much time to breathe, let alone have fun."

  "There's always time for fun."

  Why was it that Bodhi Archer's face came into her head when he said that? She knew she was blushing. She turned slightly, brushing the back of her hand over her cheek like that would hide the blush. Kipling knew her better than that.

  "Are you seeing someone?"

  She shook her head. "Nope. No time."

  "But there is someone."

  Kipling looked around the room, his gaze lingering here and there, like he thought he'd be able to tell who her mystery lover was just by looking at them. She pushed his shoulder.

  "No one I work with. What kind of person do you think I am?"

  He chuckled. "But there is someone."

  "Not exactly. There's just this... flirtation."

  "Good."

  "Good? What do you mean by that?"

  "It means that we all need a little flirtation once in a while. Even you."

  "Yeah, well, this is complicated."

  Kipling studied my face for a moment, his eyes like a puppy's eyes the way he stared at me.

  "I'm sure it's only as complicated as you make it."

  I wanted to tell him he didn't know anything about it, but Ash chose that moment to call us together. Time to get down to business.

  Kipling and I walked over and I took a seat on the edge of a desk, my arms crossed over my chest as I watched Ash. There was a map of Cheyenne hanging on the wall. He pointed to a neighborhood that had already been circled.

  "Our contacts in the FBI tell us that the cartel has set up business in this area, specifically in a warehouse owned by a local rancher. The FBI will be leading the operation and we're to act as backup along with the local police department. We will be positioned here..." He touched his finger to a far corner of the street in question. "The FBI will provide us with full gear. We are only to go in upon their request." He looked around the room, his eyes resting on a few new faces, touching on the familiar. "My operatives down in Santa Monica have done these kinds of operations in the past. The rest of you are new to this. You just need to remember to stick with the logistics that have been worked out down to every contingency and pay attention to what local law enforcement and our contacts at the FBI do and say. We are only the support staff. Understand?"

  Sutherland's heart was pounding a little. This could get a little messy. That was okay twelve years ago, when she was a part of a team in the Army, but she had a kid now. Responsibilities. A life.

  It was a little scarier now. But just as exhilarating.

  "Let's not get dead."

  Chapter 7

  Becky

  We arrived at our destination a little after dusk. The tourists weren't thrilled to be forced to help care for their horses, but they all did their part in removing the saddles and brushing them down, some enjoying the gratitude the horses showed. They were also happy to see that the tents had all been set up and arranged by Sutherland's cowhands long before we arrived.

  I watched Lance as he moved around, encouraging the tourists to stay on tasks. He was clearly uncomfortable, wincing from time to time when some movement hurt more than others. There was so much work to do, but I managed to fish the over the counter pain meds out of my bag and slip him one.

  "No shame in taking a little ibuprofen," I said.

  He smiled gratefully, dry swallowing it before going off t
o help some of the guys gather fire wood.

  "There are battery powered heaters in each of the tents," I told the ladies as we set up chairs and the worktable, preparing to make dinner. "Each tent is number and you should have your number on your paperwork for the trip. If there are any issues, please let me know."

  "I just want to take a hot bath," one woman said. "I've never been this cold and this sore in all my life."

  There was some laughter, but mostly agreement.

  "It'd actually be better for you to move around, stretch your muscles out. Besides, the nearest bathing spot is half a mile that way," I said, gesturing with my thumb over my shoulder, "and it's probably under a little bit of ice right now."

  More laughter. No one seemed too excited to head out.

  "We're going to get a fire going as soon as the men come back. Then you'll get nice and warm as we fry up some chicken breasts and bake these biscuits."

  "Sounds awesome!"

  "Better than that diner food," someone else said.

  I just smiled, aware of how bad the diner really was. Eve might make herself some good money if she went through with her idea of buying the place out and brining in a new cook. Grainger mentioned that she'd discovered a bank account she hadn't known her mother had that helped get them out of some money issues they were having before. There was even a bit of excess that he was trying to convince her to reinvest in the motel and that was how she wanted to do it. I hoped she did. This town could use a better place to eat other than the Dairy Queen.

  The ladies and I—as well as a couple of the guys who came back alone—started prep on dinner. I liked rolling the biscuits. It was busy work that felt good on my muscles and kept my head occupied. In fact, the whole day had been a relief. I finally forgot about the damn unavailable calls I kept getting on my cell. Someone had called the land line in my apartment several times, too, never leaving a message, the same unavailable on the caller ID. I'd never gotten that many calls like that in such a short stretch of time. A week. And there were a dozen a day, sometimes more.