Gray Wolf Security: Wyoming

by Glenna Sinclair

  My stomach growled and he laughed, lifting me up to my feet.

  "Come on. Let's go see what's in the kitchen."

  "I have to warn you, I'm not much of a cook. My mom gave up after I managed to burn the macaroni and cheese one night, the boxed kind."

  He laughed. "Don't worry. I sometimes found myself with a lot of down time and I had to fill it with something."

  "You know how to cook?"

  "Took a couple of classes." He laughed again when he saw the look on my face. "Cooking can be quite masculine, I'll have you know."

  "Sure..."

  "How many times have you had a one night stand make you an omelet that was actually edible?"

  I shook my head. "Never. But I'm not a one night stand kind of girl."

  "Yes, well, I was a one night stand kind of guy and I had to learn to cook to save myself from egg shell laden burnt messes."

  It was my turn to laugh again because I could see that. But I had to admit I was quite happy with the amazing concoction he came up with, more pleased with the way he fed me tiny bits, his fingers lingering on my bottom lip, turning a simple breakfast into one of the most erotic experiences I'd ever had in a kitchen.

  It was lucky we had a few hours before Gray Wolf was supposed to come pick us up.

  Chapter 19

  At the Ranch

  Kirkland studied the bank of computer monitors as he settled in the chair beside David, both of them so exhausted that there were big circles under their eyes and they appeared to have aged twenty years in just the past twelve hours. Sutherland could see Mabel watching from across the room, concern etched on her face. Ricki Grayson, David's wife, had arrived a few hours ago, in the company of Mina Grayson—Ash's wife—and Joss Matthews, another of Ash's original operatives. They were up at the house, resting, after hours of cajoling on both Mabel and Sutherland's part.

  Sutherland could see the burden on Kirkland's shoulders as clearly as his wife could. It'd increased tenfold when Sutherland pulled up to the front of the bunkhouse, eight bullet holes newly blossomed in the passenger door and clustered around the gas tank door. Someone had been giving her a message and she received it very clearly.

  "We're on lockdown," Kirkland barked. "No one comes or goes without us knowing about it. David has set up cameras in as many places as possible and perimeter alarms are going up as we speak. We monitor all comings and goings, all activity."

  "This is a working ranch, Kirkland. How are you going to do that?"

  "We will."

  He was confident and she understood very quickly why. David's technology was mind blowing.

  But it didn't stop another fire from starting along the southern fence line, didn't stop the horses from jumping the fences when something frightened them up in the east pasture. And it didn't stop ten head of cattle from going missing—just vanished—up high in the west pasture. Things were falling apart faster than Sutherland could keep track. She was beginning to wonder if there was any point in fighting any more.

  "I've sent Hank to retrieve Ryan and that detective from the safe house," Kirkland informed her. "They should be back here, safe and sound, within the hour."

  "Any luck figuring out how they were tracked to Colorado?"

  David took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, dropping them with a clatter on the center of the desk.

  "There's no way. They had to have been tracking something else."

  "What?"

  David shrugged, glancing at Kirkland.

  "We have a theory," Kirkland said. "But it's not much more reassuring than the last."

  "What?"

  "There was a burner phone in the compartment at the back of the SUV that holds the jack. Ryan used it to call in. When she turned it on, it's possible someone paying attention might have picked up the GPS signal all cellphones give off. But if she followed protocol, she turned it off after she used it, so they would have had a very small window with which to capture it. They had to have been waiting, and they had to have had equipment that's not available to just anyone."

  Sutherland crossed her arms over her chest. "What other explanation could there be?"

  Kirkland and David exchanged a glance.

  "It's possible," David said slowly, "that Ash might have given them the information they needed to find the tracker's signal."

  "Why would he do that?"

  Sutherland didn't believe it. She knew Ash. He worked side by side with her husband for several years, saved his life on more than one occasion. If Ash could have been the one to come home in a body bag instead of Mitchell, he would have gladly done it. He'd said so himself.

  Ash would not betray one of their operatives.

  "The detective," Kirkland said. "We don't know who he is, what his story is. Clearly this assassin was after him. There's no other explanation for why someone would go after them like that. They had no information, they were no threat. Yet, someone wanted them dead."

  "You think there's more to him than we know? And that the Mahoneys knew it?"

  "It's possible."

  It was possible. But so were a million other possibilities.

  Sutherland dragged her fingers through her hair. It was thick, greasy, reminding her that it'd been much longer than she cared to remember since she last had a shower. She still had the scent of Bodhi on her fingers, her skin. It crossed her mind that Kirkland and David could probably smell him on her and that made her cheeks darken with color for a moment. She was the woman in charge of this operation, the woman responsible for everything that had gone wrong over the past forty-eight hours, yet she was worrying about whether or not anyone could smell a man on her skin.

  She needed to focus.

  "They'd have to have a damn good story for Ash to give information like that away."

  "If that is what happened," David said, "then we should be cautious when the man arrives. He could spell trouble for everyone here."

  "We have a room set up," Kirkland told her. "It's got a steel door with a magnetic lock. We put it in the plans for the building at the last minute, Ash deciding it might be necessary should we ever get lucky enough to catch Jack Mahoney off guard. We could put him inside, keep him there until we can figure out what the killer was after when he chased them across state lines."

  Sutherland frowned. "Why didn't you tell me about that room?"

  "Because Ash knew you would have objections. But we both agreed that it was a necessity."

  She stepped away, her arms over her chest, trying to keep focused on what was important rather than the anger and sense of betrayal that was broiling inside of her. She walked over to the glass wall that spread from one end of the open office area to the other. She stared out on Mitchell's beloved ranch, stared out at the familiar structures and landmarks. How had her life become this huge drama where the people around her were more interested in keeping secrets than they were in getting through the day?

  "I'm sorry, Sutherland," Kirkland said. "But the line of work we're in... you have to know that it's not always going to be a walk in the woods."

  "I know that." She turned and regarded him. "I'm not some innocent child you have to protect. I knew what I was getting into when I accepted this proposition."

  "I know."

  She shook her head, glancing around the mostly empty room. David's team, the computer techs, had worked through the night for a second night in a row in order to clean up what video they had and to run searches on the few leads they had. They'd found the van in which Ash was taken from the target building, but it was abandoned in the parking lot of the private airport just outside of Casper, the VIN number in the van and the license number all leading back to generic corporations that were eventually proven to be dummy corporations run by Mahoney. There was nothing new, just more proof that it was the Mahoneys who had Ash, a fact they'd known all along.

  It seemed like they were continuously hitting their heads up against walls, bouncing back just to hit another wall. This cold, sick feelin
g had taken root in the pit of Sutherland's belly, her conviction that they were never going to find Ash. Not alive, anyway.

  And Becks... could they protect her?

  She'd gone to Becky the night before, told her what she knew. Becky wasn't surprised to hear the news, but there was fear in her eyes, in the way she clung to Lance's hand.

  "Promise me," she'd said in a low whisper as she walked Sutherland to the door, "if they get me, if this goes badly, promise me you'll protect Cassidy. You'll keep her away from these people."

  Sutherland had wanted to voice baseless reassurances, wanted to promise it would never come to that, but she couldn't. That would simply be an insult to both she and Becky.

  "I will," she'd said.

  It was a promise she hoped she'd never be in a position to be forced to keep.

  "There's something else," Kirkland said. "We think it would be better if we moved you off site."

  "Me?"

  He crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking Sutherland's stance. "We're concerned that the Mahoneys sent that warning to you personally because they plan on targeting you next. And it makes sense. You are Becky's friend and boss, you're the one who's been harboring her all these years. Maybe Jack Mahoney blames you for Kennedy, too."

  It made sense. But—

  "I'm not leaving. If they want to come for me, we'll be prepared."

  There was silence. Both Kirkland and David studied her, their body language telling her they didn't like what she'd said, but their faces filled with respect. They understood her defiance, understood her determination. And they knew better than to argue with a woman who'd made up her mind.

  "Let's get back to work."

  Sutherland settled in a chair behind one of the empty desks, pulling up state DMV records, property records, everything she could find related to the case that might reveal just a little bit of information that might tell them where Ash was being held. They'd already traced the other properties the rancher who owned both the warehouse in Cheyenne and the building in Casper where the Mahoneys had set up their operations. There was nothing at any of his other properties, no sign of him or the Mahoneys. Rumor had it that he'd left the state.

  But it was a lead.

  Her eyes were burning and her mind wandering. She found herself wondering what Bodhi was doing, wondering how the girl in Hollywood had taken his decision to end their relationship. She wondered what his brother thought of his actions, why he was so angry with the world that he'd tried to sabotage she and Bodhi that way.

  An alarm sounded a little over an hour later, pulling her out of her reverie. She got up and went to stand behind David, looking at the monitors over his shoulder.

  "Just Hank and our guests from the Casper safe house."

  She watched the screen as Hank punched in his code in the new security gate before driving his Jeep slowly through. The gate closed behind him, the magnetic locks pulled it tight together. It looked like the same sort of gate that guarded a lot of ranches in this area, but this one was specially retrofitted, made to keep out even the most determined criminals.

  It was a large ranch, vulnerable from a dozen different angles. But David, Ash, and Kirkland made sure this section up here at the front, the part that included the living quarters and the bunkhouse, was secure. No one could get within a thousand yards of one of the buildings without alarms going off both in the Gray Wolf offices and the house. They were safe.

  So why did it suddenly feel like a prison?

  Sutherland welcomed Ryan back to Gray Wolf with a warm hug.

  "I'm glad you're safe."

  "You too," she said, her eyes wide with concern. "Hank told us they shot at you?"

  "It's nothing."

  Sutherland turned to the tall man who stood not far behind Ryan. He was watching, a guarded look darkening his handsome face. Sutherland remembered him, remembered him coming up and introducing himself at the strategy meeting between the three organizations involved in the operation. Clint... something.

  "I guess we owe you our gratitude, Detective Barrow," she said, holding out her hand to him.

  "The gratitude should be mine. Ryan saved my life getting me out of there."

  "He exaggerates," Ryan said, but there was a generous amount of pleasure in her voice.

  Sutherland could sense the sexual tension between these two, the connection that had clearly grown up during their run from the Mahoneys. There were some things people could hide, but some were impossible.

  The detective took Sutherland's hand and held it between both of his, a strange new emotion floating through his eyes as he looked down at her. She felt as though she were being checked out, but there was nothing overtly sexual about it. It was more... she couldn't really put a title on it. There was affection in his eyes, a sort of pride, too. But she didn't understand it. She had no basis for that sort of thing.

  It was almost... familiar. Familial.

  "Well, Detective Barrow, we're set up in the conference room, if you don't mind. We'd like to learn as much about what happened during the operation as possible. I don't know if Ryan told you, but our patriarch, Ash Grayson, was—"

  "Kidnapped. I know. I saw them take him."

  That caught everyone off guard. But it was the only shock he had for them that morning.

  "And the names not Barrow."

  "Excuse me?"

  David, Hank, and Kirkland moved close to Sutherland and Ryan, making something of a defensive circle around them.

  The detective, however, didn't seem to notice. His eyes were steady on Sutherland's face like her reaction was the only one that mattered to him.

  "My name is Clinton Butler. Special Agent Clinton Butler. I'm with Homeland Security."

  That was an announcement no one had expected.

  Chapter 20

  Ryan

  Homeland Security. Somehow, that didn't surprise me.

  I'd been leading toward the CIA, based mostly on the fact that the building we'd been taken to was a high rise, expensive, but clearly, they had control of most of the floors. There was money to spend. The FBI was constantly complaining about budget issues, but in this age of terrorism, the CIA had all the money they could possibly need. And if they had all that, then Homeland Security probably had a free pass.

  Kirkland escorted our group into the large conference room at the back of the building, acting as though Clint hadn't just dumped a bomb on us. He asked if anyone wanted soda or juices, acted the perfect host before taking up a seat to the left of Sutherland, allowing her the position at the head of the table.

  She, however, was not acting as nonchalant. She kept staring at Clint as though his revelation had been a personal affront. There was something about the way she was staring at him...

  "Homeland Security," David said. "We can call their offices and confirm that."

  "You can," Clint said, shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat. "But then they'll come out here with a small army of agents wanting to take me back in cuffs."

  "We had a little incident when we left Denver," I said, sliding my hand into Clint's. "They sent an agent to kill me and I had to take him out."

  Kirkland made a sound, but everyone else just fell into silence.

  Clint squeezed my hand. "It'd probably be better if I started from the beginning."

  "By all means," Kirkland said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

  Clint looked at Sutherland, as though he needed her full attention before he began speaking. It was beginning to make me nervous, his hyperawareness of Sutherland. I didn't understand what was going on between them, didn't understand why he seemed to want her approval. They'd only just met and she wasn't his boss. Hell, I didn't care about impressing her half as much as he did and she was my boss.

  "I joined the agency not long after it was formed back in 2002. I was just a kid, pulled out of the Army for this new task force that was going to take down terrorists. I thought... I believed that I would be working overseas, fighting as a soldier. My
role, however, is subtler. Analysts identify potential threats and I go undercover working to undermine the threat, to remove it if possible.

  "Seven years ago, my superiors identified the Mahoney Cartel as a threat to national security. It was determined that they were working with foreign governments to influence American politics for an end game that no one has confirmed as of yet. There is some suspicion that they want to allow outside influences to change American policies that will benefit their illegal activities. There are other theories, some of them outrageous, some frightening. But no one knows for sure what they are really after."

  Clint looked down at our entwined hands, smiling weakly at me when his gaze came back up.

  "I was assigned to infiltrate the cartel in Las Vegas, working my way up from the streets to the distributors. We needed information on the way the cartel was structured and that assignment revealed a great number of things to us. While I was there, another agent was building an op in California, planning to infiltrate the Bazarov Cartel because we'd gotten information through my assignment that the Mahoneys were using the Bazarovs to get their government to back the federal political candidates they wanted. The Bazarovs had been on our radar for years and we'd managed to push them out of Texas, but Vitaly Bazarov was a determined man with a lot of friends both in Russia and here in the states. We had reason to believe he was planning a massive push into politics with Jack Mahoney."

  David and Kirkland exchanged a glance. I had no idea what Clint was leading toward, but I could see they did. Sutherland, on the other hand, was staring at her hands, her expression too distant to read.

  "I was wrapping up my current assignment and was to be moved to California. Before we could arrange it, however, Vitaly Bazarov was dead, his son in jail, and Dimitri Avdonin was making a play for power. Our supervisors had us take a watch and see stance. We were there to watch Ash and his crew." Clint nodded toward Kirkland. "Take Avdonin out."