Gray Wolf Security: Wyoming

by Glenna Sinclair

  But I knew if I said that, they would rush in and take over. I didn't want that. This was my case and I was still determined to see it through to the end.

  "We don't assume anything. We're just covering all our bases."

  The director nodded, dismissing me with a wave of his hand as he turned back to Conway and began a conversation I was not supposed to participate in.

  I was halfway to my office when Annabeth stopped me, grabbing my arm.

  "Why didn't you tell them about the girl? Why didn't you tell them you were shot at?"

  "I believe I did."

  Her eyes darkened a little. "I know this is personal for you, Clint, but you can't keep information from Conway and Proctor. If they find out, you could be suspended!"

  "I know what I'm doing."

  I tried to move past her, but she held tight to my arm.

  "Did you tell her? Does she know she's the reason you're involved in this case in the first place?"

  "I told you what I did in confidence, Annabeth. If you say something to—"

  "I wouldn't do that. You know me better than that."

  I studied her face for a long moment, aware that she was right. I did know her better than that. I knew she would keep almost any secret for as long as I asked her to just because I asked. I also knew that if she realized there was no future in our relationship... some loyalties were only so deep.

  "I just need a little more time. I need to find out what went wrong and who was behind it."

  "How are you going to do that?" Her eyes suddenly widened. "You're going back!"

  I walked away, not sure how to explain to her why I needed to do this. I had to prove that Ashford Grayson wasn't the man everyone seemed to think he was. I had to prove that Gray Wolf wasn't some cover for a dark ops organization and I had to prove that the woman I'd thought I would never see again wasn’t involved in Mahoney business.

  Annabeth was right about one thing. This was very personal for me.

  Chapter 13

  At the Ranch

  His hand was on her belly, sliding slowly along the curve of her ribs, his lips pressed to the top of her shoulder, his breath hot and erotic as sleep continued to cling to the edges of her consciousness. She had no idea what time it was, or how long they'd lain there in each other's arms. And, at the moment, she didn't really care.

  She moved back against him, pressing her hips into the angles of his, barely conscious of the fact that there was nothing but a thin layer of material between them. And that was not going to be a barrier for long. He slid his hand under the top edge of her panties, his fingers pushing their way between her legs, encouraging her to relax her hips a little more. She sighed, her eyes still closed, her body in control of everything, including her conscious mind.

  He smelled like a late-night fire in the snow, like the ashes of a brilliant cedar tree. His skin was hot, burning, almost feverish, as it pressed against the length of her body, his arm strong and masculine as it pulled her back, tighter against him. She could feel his arousal, could feel the need that was building inside of him with every touch. She loved that she could make him feel that way.

  He pulled her onto her back and she opened her eyes, found herself bathed in the heat of his gaze. He was a beautiful man. She could see every time she looked at him why so many fans of his sci-fi, action movies were in love with him. She could see herself doing the same quite easily despite all the reasons why it would be too dangerous.

  He kissed her, his mouth warm with sleep. They moved together, their hands moving over flesh they were just becoming acquainted with. Her fingers brushed the scar high on his back, touched the gnarled flesh with the same curiosity with which she'd touched it before. She wanted to ask, but...there were other pressing matters at the moment.

  He encouraged her to open to him, his leg sliding between hers, his thigh pressing with satisfying pressure against her swollen, eager clit. She opened eagerly, tugged at his hips to welcome him to her. And he came without the need for begging, came with his own eagerness. He pulled back as he pressed against her, pulled his head back so that he could see her face as he pressed his hardness against the tender flesh of her eager opening. She bent her knees, lifted her hips, her hands on his ass pulling him to her.

  He groaned as he entered her, his eyes rolling back into his head at the same time her eyes closed. For a long moment, they were both lost in their own world of pleasure. But then she opened her eyes and he was watching her, a look of ecstasy in his perfect eyes.

  They rocked together slowly, gently, lost inside of each other, the ultimate intimacy drawing them each out of their own lonely shells. She loved the feel of him, the taste of him, loved the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, loved the things he did to her body. Hours ago, she was exhausted, miserable. And now... ecstasy wasn't a big enough word for it.

  She didn't want it to end, but it was inevitable. The pressure built deep inside of her and she couldn't keep the sounds from slipping through her lips as her orgasm rushed through her. He wasn't far behind her, his cock swelling inside of her, his muscles growing hard as rocks. He grunted, a cute little noise than was such evidence of his need to remain in control. She liked that, liked that he was such the definition of masculine man.

  They lay side by side for a while, nothing but the sound of their breathing to break the silence in the room. As the pleasure receded, reality came back, falling like a ton of bricks on Sutherland's chest.

  She sat up, searching for her cellphone, needing to know if there was an update on Kipling's condition.

  "Not yet," he said, touching the middle of her back.

  "You have no idea what's going on around here. My friend..." She stopped, afraid emotion would get the better of her.

  "I've heard."

  "How?" she asked, glancing back at him.

  "It's a very small town."

  She'd been caught up in that fact before, so his answer didn't surprise her. She found the phone on the nightstand, hooked to her charger as though she'd done it herself. She would have offered a touch of gratitude, but there were half a dozen messages from Kirkland. She read them quickly, then got up and began to dress quickly.

  "Sutherland, come back to bed. You need to rest."

  "I need to get back to work." She sat on the edge of a chair to slide on her shoes, a thought crossing her mind that her exhaustion had kept at bay earlier. "When did you get back to town? And how did you know to come over this morning?"

  "I got back yesterday. And I knew to come over because the whole town is buzzing with what happened in Casper. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

  "What made you think I'd want to see you?"

  He frowned as he slowly sat up. "What does that mean?"

  "Your brother told me all about your girl in California. Said you couldn't get out of here fast enough to go see her after what happened between the two of us the other night."

  "I went to tell her it was over."

  "Yeah? Were you going to tell me about her?"

  He tilted his head slightly. "Probably."

  "Probably? Don't you think that's something I should know about?"

  He laughed, like what she'd said was amusing. It pissed her off.

  "This is a joke to you?"

  "No." He climbed off the bed and grabbed his jeans, pulling them up over his naked ass with the ease of a man used to dressing in front of an audience. "I just got so used to everyone knowing everything about me before I did that I find it amusing that you would have to ask. That I even had the option of hiding this."

  "I'm not a fan."

  "I'm getting that impression."

  "And I'm not some loose woman you can use however you want to. I have a child and a life here."

  "Loose woman?" Amusement was dancing in his eyes again. "I haven't heard that term in a while."

  "You know what I mean."

  "I don't want to hurt you, Sutherland. In case you haven't noticed, I like you."

  Sh
e hated that those words made her a little giddy inside. But then reality. Again.

  "I can't... my daughter thinks you hung the moon. I can't... I've never brought a man home in front of her. I've never brought a man home. And I can't do that to her."

  "If she thinks I hung the moon, then it should be easy."

  "You don't understand. She has a poster of you in her bedroom."

  He laughed again, clearly pleased with that idea.

  "Bodhi—"

  "Say it again." His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. "Say my name again."

  She stood, stomping her feet a little with frustration. "I don't think you're hearing anything I'm saying. I can't be in a relationship with you! You have a girlfriend you never bothered to mention to me and my daughter is in love with you! It just wouldn't be right!"

  "Tell me the real reason you're afraid of this," he said, holding her still with his hands on her shoulders, suddenly dead serious.

  "Isn't that enough?"

  "It's a small town, Sutherland. I know about your husband." He groaned a little as he bit out the words. "Hell, his name and picture are on display at the damn high school! He's a damn hero around here. But you haven't talked to me about him, haven't even mentioned him. I know that's what's holding you back."

  She shook her head, tears filling her eyes at just the mention of Mitchell.

  "We both have a past. I've left so many broken hearts in my wake and every gossip magazine refuses to allow me to forget about it. But I'm not that guy anymore."

  "Then who are you? I don't know the first thing about you!"

  "I'm the man who bought the ranch next door and couldn't believe his luck when he saw his beautiful neighbor for the first time. I'm a guy who's basically introverted, who prefers his own company to just about anyone else, but who discovered at a very young age that he had this ability to entertain people, a job that was easy and logical and provided for everything he ever wanted to do. I'm a guy who was destroyed as a child and rescued by the kind people who adopted him, who rescued him from his nightmares." He touched her jaw lightly. "I'm a reformed asshole who wants to make things work with you because I know you could change everything for me."

  Sutherland was speechless. She studied his face, saw the honesty written in his every pore. She believed him despite everything, despite the fact that her life had jaded her enough to make her reluctant to trust almost anyone. He was waiting for a response, but she was afraid to move, afraid to give him the wrong signal.

  And then her phone rang.

  "I have to... I've got all of this stuff to deal with."

  "I know."

  There was disappointment in his voice, but he didn’t walk away. He waited for her to check her phone, waited shirtless and shoeless for her to deal with the text messages that were blowing up her phone.

  "Thank you for being there for me this morning," she said as she walked out the door, leaving him there. She knew it was the last thing he wanted, knew it was almost insulting in its simplicity, but she couldn't do this right now.

  She walked away, Kirkland's voice urgent in her ear.

  "We have something we need to show you."

  ***

  There were a dozen people gathered around a monitor in one of the conference rooms. Sutherland walked in and they separated, making space for her to move to the front. She was hyperaware of herself, concerned they could all see the mark of shame in the center of her forehead, proof that she'd just spent the last few hours with a man who wasn't her husband. But no one seemed interested in much about her, just the video Kirkland was excited to show her.

  "David spent all morning trying to enhance these images," he explained, touching a button on a computer keyboard. The monitor lit up with the same image Sutherland had been studying before she went up to bed. But this image was so much clearer, the interference from whatever it was—electronic interference is what David had thought—almost gone. There was still the smoke billowing out of the back of the building from the smoke grenades and the explosion against the security door in the basement. But she could clearly see Ash now, his familiar head bowed slightly as he was led to a van in the alley behind the target building.

  "Is that Agent Beatrice?"

  Kirkland nodded. "I think they were taken together. But there's no sign of the other guy, Agent Johnson. That makes me wonder if we have another bad agent on our hands."

  "These were Ash's contacts," Sutherland said. "Do you really think—"

  "Anything's possible. It took them a decade to catch on to Kennedy."

  Sutherland nodded. "The Mahoneys' reach is impressive. I just... I don't think he could have fooled Ash that completely."

  "The important thing is, we now have a license plate number." Kirkland tapped the monitor. "David's already got his team searching for it."

  "Good. Maybe we'll know something soon enough."

  Sutherland wanted to hang around and see if the license plate would lead to anything, but her need to check on Kipling was stronger. She ducked out, swung by to check on Elizabeth where she was still hanging out with Becks and Cassidy, then drove to the hospital.

  Harley was sitting in the same chair Sutherland had vacated the day before, Kipling's hand tucked into hers. He looked worse, if that was possible, his skin pale, his bandages bigger and more horrifying. She stood there just inside the door, her heart pounding like a sledge hammer, fear become her constant.

  "What are you doing here?" Harley demanded, her gaze moving coldly over Sutherland.

  "I wanted to see how he's doing?"

  "How do you think he's doing? He's been shot!"

  "Harley..."

  His voice was low, rough, but it was clearly Kipling. Sutherland pressed her hand to her mouth, shock, surprise, and relief rushing through her like a tornado through an Oklahoma trailer park.

  Harley's eyes softened immediately as she lifted his hand and kissed it.

  "Sorry, love," she said.

  "You're awake?"

  Kipling's right eye was swollen shut, but his left was well enough for him to follow her movements as she crossed to the side of the bed. He held out his free hand, reaching for her with a grip that was much stronger than she'd anticipated. It offered hope like nothing she'd ever felt before.

  "Ash."

  She nodded. "We're looking for him. We just got a new lead we're hoping will lead to another."

  He closed his eye. "I heard them," he said, his words slow and a little slurred because of the damage to his jaw. He could only open his mouth a half an inch or so, but she understood.

  "You were on his team."

  He nodded. "Me. Donovan."

  "Donovan was shot in the shoulder, but he's going to be okay. They're releasing him in a few hours."

  He closed his eye again, but when he opened it, she could almost see pleading in it.

  "They said... Ash interfered... they said Kennedy..."

  "Kennedy?"

  "He's tired," Harley said. "We should let him rest."

  But Kipling wasn't having any of it. He shook his head again, tugging at both their hands.

  "Becks."

  Fear once again washed over Sutherland, taking up residence in the pit of her stomach.

  "What about Becks?"

  "They talked... her..."

  "They're coming for her."

  He nodded. "Ash... Becks...."

  Sutherland leaned down and kissed his forehead lightly. "Get better, Kipling. We need you."

  She turned to go, in a rush to tell Kirkland what she was sure Kipling was trying to tell her. Harley followed, saying her name as she rushed out into the corridor.

  "I'm sorry," she said, a soft smile bringing a little light to her eyes. "I was rude the last time we met."

  Sutherland went to her, took her hands. "I understand. If it were Mitchell lying in that bed, I couldn't possibly be responsible for what I might have done or said."

  Harley's smile widened, but it was a sad smile.

  "When
my brother went to jail, I never imagined I would find such happiness, let alone with Kipling McKay. But he is..." She sighed. "He's my life."

  Sutherland squeezed her hands. "He's a good man. He kept me afloat for a long time after Mitchell died." She glanced at the door behind which Kipling lay, broken. "He's lucky to have you."

  Harley sobbed a little, barely holding back the tears. "I'm so scared!"

  "Me too."

  They hugged for a long time, but then Harley pulled away.

  "I should get back."

  Sutherland watched her go, then rushed off to find Kirkland. She was nearly to her car when a woman approached her from the left. Sutherland could feel the weight of the woman's stare, the intensity in her approach. She stopped, wishing she'd thought to bring a weapon with her.

  "What do you want?" she demanded.

  "I'm a friend," the woman said, holding up her hands so that Sutherland could see she carried no weapon. "I was sent to deliver a message."

  "Who sent you?"

  "The name wouldn't mean anything to you."

  "Then how do I know you're a friend?"

  The woman's eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't suppose you do. But I'm going to deliver my message anyway." She glanced over her shoulder, indicating the hospital with a jerk of her chin. "How's Kipling McKay? Healing, I hope."

  That did nothing to ease Sutherland's suspicions. If anything, it increased them.

  "Do you work for the Mahoneys?"

  "No." The woman smiled a little at the thought. "I was told, however, that you should be informed of a mole in your organization. Someone tipped the Mahoneys to your operation."

  "I know that much. But the mole isn't part of Gray Wolf. The mole is likely FBI."

  "You have a candidate?"

  "It's possible."

  The woman nodded. "That's interesting. Did that person have access to technology that could allow them to track one of your vehicles?"

  That threw Sutherland a little. "No one has access to that information."

  "An assassin had a GPS that allowed him to track the SUV your agent—Ryan Babcock—took to Denver with Detective Clint Barrow."

  "That's not possible. We spoke to Ryan just a few hours ago."