Gray Wolf Security: Wyoming

by Glenna Sinclair

  I frowned, the idea a strange one to me. It wouldn't be smart for a wanted felon to take a trip to such an isolated place, unless they had a good reason. No escapes out here unless they knew the area well.

  "Who is this person?"

  "Her name is Vivian Carlotti. She's been on the run for nearly eleven years."

  "What is she wanted for?" I asked, thinking of all the women on the trip who were old enough to fit that description. There were only three or four.

  "It's complicated. But the long and short of it is that she's thought to have been involved with the Mahoney crime family."

  That caught my attention. I'd just spent the last three weeks helping plan a bust on the Mahoney family in Cheyenne. It was supposed to happen today, as we were talking. I tried to keep my face neutral, to pretend I had no idea what he was talking about. But there was something wrong with the fact that he was here, today. That he was looking for this woman while the bust was going down. That made me wonder if something had gone wrong with the bust. Or if there was something else going on here.

  "Do you have a picture of this Vivian Carlotti?" I asked.

  "Sure."

  He searched through his wallet and dug out a snapshot. It was odd because it was earmarked and worn, like something he would have gotten out and stared at a lot. Like it was personal. He handed it to me and my heart sank.

  The picture was more than ten years old and she was so much younger, her hair shot through with gold highlights. But there was no mistaking those clear blue eyes.

  It was Becky.

  Again, I was careful not to react. But I felt sick to my stomach. She couldn't have been more than eighteen in this picture. Hell, she couldn’t be more than twenty-seven, twenty-nine now. Eleven years ago... what could she have done to have this man out in the middle of nowhere looking for her? She was just a child eleven years ago.

  "I don't recognize her."

  "It's an older picture. Her hair is darker now and she's thinner."

  I shook my head. "I don't believe she's part of the group, but you're welcome to stick around. We're coming back from a hike, a few stragglers are still coming in."

  He nodded. "I appreciate it. I'll be out of your hair as soon as she gets here."

  "Do you mind if I ask how you got here?"

  "Four-wheeler," he said, gesturing to a small machine parked behind a couple of the tents. I hadn't even noticed it, and didn’t hear it. He must have come up after we were down in the canyon.

  The little blonde girl came up behind me and tugged on my jacket.

  "Lance, could you come open the coolers? Everyone's thirsty?"

  "Duty calls," I said to Kennedy.

  He nodded as he sat back down. "I'll just be sitting here."

  Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

  What was I supposed to do now?

  Chapter 9

  At the Ranch

  Waste of time.

  Sutherland sat back in the passenger seat of Kipling's rented truck and stared at the highway flashing by, her hand resting on her forehead. They'd driven all the way down to Cheyenne only to discover that the raid had been called off. Couldn't call them before they arrived, had to wait until they showed up. Someone had tipped off the Mahoney cartel and they'd vacated the premises, took their operations elsewhere. Nothing to bust because they were gone.

  Waste of time.

  I could have been home with the girls, she thought. Could have lain on the couch all night watching chick flicks and had a leisurely breakfast with them this morning instead of going to bed early to drive all the hell way out there this morning.

  Waste of damn time.

  She didn't know why it bothered her so much, but it did. It angered her. She had so many other things to do, so much she could have been doing. And she'd been looking forward the whole thing. That was probably what upset her the most. She was pumped to be a part of the whole bust. She was disappointed it hadn't happened.

  "Who do they think tipped off the Mahoneys?"

  Kipling shrugged. "Could have been anyone. A snitch in the FBI, a cop here in Cheyenne. Anyone in the know could have told them."

  "I hope the FBI has an idea who it was and they go after them."

  "I'm sure they will."

  Sutherland sat up a little straighter. "I sent my stable manager up into the north pasture with a bunch of tourists, leaving my horses under the care of her stable hands who tend to slack off when she's not around, because of this. Made her leave her kid behind. That was a huge favor to ask of her and now...nothing. All for nothing."

  Kipling glanced at her. "I don't think I've ever seen you quite this upset before."

  "I just... I was... I just have so much to do."

  "You were excited."

  She shrugged. "Maybe. I got into this Gray Wolf stuff because I thought it would be exciting, that it would inject a little adrenaline back into my life. But all it's been so far is watching my people watch cheaters."

  "They're will be more exciting cases down the line."

  "I know, I just... I feel like I'm putting in a lot of energy on something that's not really panning out. The expense—Ash handed me a check for a hundred thousand dollars and we've spent most of that on building the bunkhouse and filling it with equipment. By the time we earn enough to pay it back—"

  "He doesn't expect you to pay it back. That was meant for startup costs. You know, that?"

  "It's not right to not pay it back."

  "Sutherland, this is the way the business works. Ash has already written that check off. He expects you to keep the profit off what you've made since that was spent. That was the deal."

  She started to shake her head as the numbers began adding themselves up in her head. And then she realized that with the profit they'd made so far, she could make the balloon payment on the loan she owed for MidKnight. The idea came with a rush of relief that was better than the adrenaline that had been building for this raid.

  Could she really do it? Could she really get caught up and start looking into a more optimistic future?

  First Trouble's win at the Cheyenne horse show and now this? Could things get any better?

  Kipling reached over and patted her knee. "Ash did this to help you, Sutherland. He was worried about you and Elizabeth. He knew giving you this branch of Gray Wolf would improve things for you and your ranch. He wouldn't have done it otherwise."

  And then the pleasant feeling crashed.

  "I don't need his pity."

  "It's not pity. It's a brother looking out for his brother's family."

  "How is that different?"

  Kipling didn't answer. He was leaning forward, staring at something on the road ahead of us. We'd pulled through the gate of MidKnight. The other trucks and SUVs in our caravan had arrived ahead of us and were parked further along the lane, down in front of the bunkhouse. But there was a four-door sedan parked in front of the house, two men in dark suits sitting against the hood of the car.

  "Who are they?"

  She shrugged. "Probably someone who got lost."

  "Those are government plates on the car."

  She leaned forward, staring a little harder at the car. Sure enough, the plates were clearly mark with the initials that indicated they were government issue. "Maybe they're looking for Ash."

  Kipling shook his head again. "I know the contacts Ash was working with. It's not them."

  He pulled his truck up behind the sedan and threw it into park. Sutherland climbed out, a little thrown by the fact that her daughter, Elizabeth, came running out of the front door of the house the moment she did. One of the men stepped toward her, but she gestured for him to hold off as she turned to accept her daughter's hug.

  "What's going on?" Elizabeth demanded, shooting an uneasy gaze at the two men. "They've been waiting here for more than an hour."

  "Everything's okay, Lizzie." Sutherland kissed her daughter's forehead. "Go back inside with Cassidy and Mabel. I'll be there in a few minutes."

/>   Her daughter hesitated for just a second, then turned and did as she was told. Sutherland waited until she heard the door close before she turned to the two men.

  "I'm Sutherland Knight, owner of this ranch. Can I help you?"

  "Your daughter?" the man who'd started to approach her before asked. "She's beautiful."

  Sutherland inclined her head to accept the compliment. "Why are you here?"

  He held out his identification, his partner doing the same.

  "I'm Larry Miles, this is my partner, Woody Abbott. We're with the FBI office in Chicago."

  "You're a little ways from home, Agent Miles."

  He smiled, clearly amused by her, his eyes weary as he watched Kipling come up behind her. His gaze flicked from Kipling to the windows of the house, back to Sutherland, the pleasant smile disappearing.

  "Are you having a party? We noticed a lot of cars driving by."

  "Could you tell us why you're here?" Kipling asked. "This is private property, so unless you have a warrant, we really don't have to give you that kind of information."

  "No warrant. Yet." Agent Miles glanced up at the house again. "We're here on a very sensitive matter. We just have a few questions, but because of the nature of our investigation--"

  "You're not speaking with her alone."

  Sutherland glanced at Kipling, not sure if she should be impressed by his attempt to protect her or annoyed.

  "Why don't you ask me your questions."

  Agent Abbott must have decided that was fair because he immediately dug a photograph out of his jacket pocket.

  "Have you seen this man around here?"

  Sutherland took the proffered photo and studied it, curiosity overruling everything else. It was a middle-aged man with lots of blond curls and a dark five o'clock shadow. It was an interesting combo that made him look a little creepy, in her opinion. But he didn’t look familiar.

  She held it up where Kipling could see it, too, but she could see there was no recognition in his eyes, either.

  "This is a working ranch," she said. "We occasionally have visitors out here: suppliers, vets, tourists. We currently have a group of tourists in our north pasture, but I don't recall seeing this man among them."

  "Where exactly are these tourists?" Abbott asked, glancing at his partner.

  Sutherland pointed. "The north pasture is across the road. There at a little clearly about six miles in."

  "Could you take us there?"

  Sutherland glanced at Kipling again. She could see his concern in the narrowing of his eyes.

  "If you tell us what's going on."

  Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Kirkland and Ash drove up in one of the four wheelers the ranch hands sometimes used to get around the pastures. Ash walked up, his hand outstretched.

  "Larry, long time no see."

  The FBI agents seemed taken aback by seeing Ash there. The first one, Agent Miles, hesitated before taking his hand even though Ash called him by name. But the other, Agent Abbott, walked right up and shook his hand.

  "How's it going, Grayson?"

  Ash inclined his head. "Would be better if we hadn't gotten the operation pulled out from under us today. What are you doing up here?"

  Everyone was clearly confused. There were a lot of glances this way and that. Finally, I guess Abbott decided someone better start ponying up some information.

  "We've been suspicious of one of our agents for some time. When the Mahoneys picked up their business and moved out here in Cheyenne, we took a look at this agent's GPS information on his phone. Not only did we track him to Cheyenne, but here, as well."

  "Here?" Ash glanced at Sutherland. "Have you talked to an FBI agent?"

  She shook her head. "Just they guys in Cheyenne this morning."

  Ash looked at Abbott and Miles. "Sutherland runs a satellite office of Gray Wolf Security here out of her bunkhouse, but this entire thing has come out of my office in Santa Monica. None of your agents have been up here."

  Abbott and Miles glanced at each other. "Yes, well," Miles said, "we suspect this agent has gone completely rogue. We're not sure why, just yet. But the latest GPS data shows that he is currently seven miles north of here."

  Sutherland felt as though someone had poured ice cold water over her head.

  "Becky and Lance took a group of tourists up to the north pasture yesterday."

  Kirkland cleared his throat, the sound uncomfortable. "That's part of why we came looking for you," he said in a low, concerned voice. He pulled a satellite phone out from behind his back. A red light was clearly flashing on it, indicating an urgent message coming through. "It's an SOS from the campers. They're requesting evac."

  Sutherland's first thought was that someone had been injured on the hike Becky was planning for today. But, in light of all this new information, she wasn't sure anything as normal as that was going on. If this guy was rogue, he would be capable of just about anything.

  "Why?" she demanded. "Why these people? Why my ranch?"

  But she could see by the blank looks on the two agents' faces that they had no better idea than she did.

  Chapter 10

  Becky

  I heard his voice as I was coming around the edge of the campsite. I stopped short, my heart in my throat. I told myself it was a mistake, that I'd simply heard something familiar in one of the campers' voice. But then I heard my name.

  Vivian Carlotti.

  God, I hadn't heard that name in a lifetime!

  Shit, shit, shit! Panic filled me as I stood rooted to the ground. One of the women, Janice, came up behind me and laid her hand on my shoulder.

  "You okay?"

  I nodded. "I need to go check on the horses. Will you tell Lance to go ahead and start the dinner prep?"

  "Of course," she said, a special spark coming into her eyes. Any excuse to talk to Lance was a good one, I supposed.

  I knew the feeling.

  But it was over now, wasn't it? He'd found me.

  I backed up, finally able to convince my legs to function. Several of the stragglers passed me, shooting me curious looks, but I kept going, spinning around and taking off at a run. Where was I going? Did it matter? He'd found me. He wasn't going to let me go this time.

  And then Cassidy filled my mind. My beautiful little girl with blond girls so much like his. He would know the moment he saw her. I couldn't allow that to happen.

  I had to go. I had to disappear again. It was the only way to keep her safe.

  Pain cut through my chest at the thought. Pain so crippling that I bent over, clutching my stomach, my lunch coming back for a return visit. I couldn't do this, I couldn't keep running. I couldn't leave my little girl behind. But what choice did I have.

  Sutherland... Sutherland would take care of her. She would stand up, do what was right. She would know I had my reasons... at least, I hoped she would. I hoped she would understand and she would raise my little girl just as she raised her own, made her understand that I wouldn't have gone if I'd had any other options. But I couldn't... no, I wouldn't pull her into this mess.

  It was my mess. I'd gotten into it, I'd deal with it.

  I had to go. I had no other choice.

  A plan in my head, I ran quickly around the perimeter of the camp, careful to stay in the trees where no one could see me. The horses were tethered a half mile away, still standing peacefully in the cold, still huddled together for warmth. I approached my gelding, Lincoln, and tugged the heavy blanket off his back just to replace it with the saddle blanket. The saddles were in a pile at the edge of the clearly, stacked nicely on the ground. I lifted mine, heavy leather that took everything I had to carry it across the clearly. Lincoln stood still, clearly ready to go for a ride. I was thinking of my options, of the many directions in which I could go. Only one made sense, but I was so ill-prepared for this, I knew I wouldn't make it. But the other options—

  "I knew you'd be here."

  I spun around, wishing I had a weapon with which
to defend myself. But it was only Lance, a saddlebag thrown over each shoulder.

  "What are you doing?"

  "When you didn't come back to camp, I figured you'd heard me talking to him."

  It hurt, hearing this confirmation of what I'd heard. A part of me was hoping it really was a mistake. I turned back to Lincoln, tugging hard at the billet strap. The horse grunted, letting me know I had it tight enough, but I continued to tug anyway. I needed to keep my hands busy so my head wouldn't explode.

  But when I turned, Lance was carrying a saddle to one of the other horses.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded in a loud whisper, scared to death that my voice would carry over the half mile back to camp and he'd know I was there.

  "I'm not letting you leave alone."

  "What about the campers?"

  "I sent a message back to MidKnight over the sat phone."

  I stared at him. "What? Did he see?"

  "Of course not."

  "Where does he think you are?"

  "Checking on the horses."

  I shook my head. "No, no, no! He'll come out here looking for us!"

  "He thinks they're a mile that way," he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder.

  I stared at him, wondering if he was the most brilliant person I'd ever met, or the most stupid. Kennedy would know he was lying to him. He always knew.

  "You can't go. I'm not dragging anyone else into this."

  "You'll need supplies."

  I glanced at the saddlebags he still had over his shoulders. "What's in there?"

  "Water. Food. A bed roll."

  With that stuff, I could get out of here. I might have a chance.

  "If you want the supplies, you have to let me come with you."

  He didn't bother to stop and wait for my response. He tossed the saddle over the back of one of the horses and proceeded to buckle it in all the wrong places. I pushed him out of the way and fastened it properly, working quickly as my ears strained for the sounds of someone coming toward us. When I was done, I turned to face him, finding him standing much closer than I'd expected.