If Blondie hadn’t spent the entire flight being a space invader, Tori might have admired the way she moved past her prey, pretending to ignore him as she frowned prettily up at the display. As it was, she sneered inwardly as the cop took the bait and said something to her. Tori wasn’t close enough to catch his opening line, but as she drew near, Blondie glanced at him, her expression caught between interest and triumph as she purred, “Are you looking for someone?”
He nodded. “Yes, indeed. And I believe I’ve found her.” He looked over and down—way down—to Tori. “Dr. Bay, I presume?”
Blondie’s smile instantly lost its wattage and her face took on a look of Really? But Tori barely noticed because she was busy doing a double take of her own, as surprise that he had noticed her was compounded by the hoo-boy of having those baby blues locked on to her.
His outdoorsy vibe might’ve made her think of the mountains, but his eyes were the cerulean of a perfectly flat high-country lake beneath a cloudless sky. The kind of lake that hikers would take a day’s climb to reach, and then be grateful to simply sit and stare. Which was exactly what she was doing.
Staring up at him. Like a five-foot-nothing dork.
Say something, idiot!
“Yes, I’m Dr. Bay,” she blurted, loud enough to make herself wince. Forcing her voice to something approaching its normal businesslike tone, she added, “How did you recognize me?”
The university typically didn’t send much advance info on their field researchers, never mind photos. Then again, the people requesting her services typically didn’t insist on police protection either.
The corners of his eyes crinkled arrestingly. “Given the knapsack, hiking boots and the insignia on your windbreaker, I figured it was a good bet you were the tree doctor.”
Catching Blondie’s smirk in her peripheral vision, Tori bristled. She didn’t need to look down at herself to know that she was rocking the earthy-crunchy factor in jeans and a plain forest-green T-shirt, along with a U.S. Plant Pathology Association windbreaker that was a couple of sizes too big because they didn’t come in extra small. And, yeah, given that she had her bark-brown hair pulled back in a stubby ponytail and was wearing her glasses because airplanes did wonky things to her contacts, she wasn’t even close to being in Blondie’s league. And not just because she was lacking the designer suit, stilettos and a foot of height.
Worse, she had actually bothered to catalog those differences.
Hello, she thought loudly, hoping both her libido and her brain would listen up, you’re not here for a fieldwork fling. You’re here to do a job. Granted, she’d combined the two more than once in the past, but this particular job fell under the category of “potential disaster, probably shouldn’t let yourself get distracted, hunky escort or not.”
Besides, he was a cop.
Deliberately, she put her head back in the work zone where it belonged. The U.S. National Park Service was worried about the newly discovered breeding population of barred eagles, and the strange, threadlike fungus that was killing huge chunks of forest near the eagles’ nesting area. Given the ecological chaos caused by the recent oak-blight epidemic in California’s Point Reyes Park, the Park Service wasn’t taking any chances in Bear Claw Canyon. When the local scientists hadn’t been able to crack the fungus’s life cycle or the real cause of the problems the trees were experiencing, Tori had gotten the call.
Her family might not understand her choosing to save trees rather than people, but she was very good at what she did.
Giving the cop a cool look, she said, “I prefer the term ‘phytopathologist.’ Or ‘plant disease epidemiologist’ is okay, too.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How about we go with Tori and Jack instead? Seems easier, and half the time when I hear ‘Detective Williams,’ I turn around to see if my dad or uncle are standing behind me.”
Which meant he wasn’t just a cop, he was straight out of a cop family, with all the “save the world and pat the little lady on the head” machismo that it entailed. Or maybe that was just her family, she thought, trying to smooth out the sudden tug of irritation he hadn’t earned.
Which just left her realizing that she had just told her local liaison to use her professional titles. God, she was still such a dweeb sometimes, especially when faced with a guy who felt just that little bit out of her league, turning him into a challenge.
Making herself grin rather than groan, she nodded. “Tori and Jack it is.”
She didn’t bother asking herself what it was about this guy that had her caught somewhere between lust and dorksville. He was seriously hot; she was exhausted by having done a week’s worth of grant writing in two days to make this trip; and it had been a few months since she and her last equally on-the-go lover, Greene, had called it quits. So she was noticing the handsome detective in a chemically combustible way, and it was making her a little silly. Okay, more than a little.
Focus. “We should get going. I understand that the site is pretty far off the beaten path.”
“That’s an understatement. We’ll be using Ranger Station Fourteen as a base camp and driving out to the Forgotten from there on a daily basis.”
“Wait. What?” She frowned up at him. Way up, which made her feel short, and in turn, irritated her. “We won’t need the ranger station. We’re camping out at the site for the duration.” That was SOP for the more remote locations, and she’d been assured there would be no problem.
His expression tightened and those lake waters chilled. “Not with an armed militia out there, we’re not.”
“An…” She blew out a breath, not liking the sound of that one bit. “I was under the impression that the area was secure.”
“That might be the official line, but it’s not the reality as far as my contacts within the investigation are concerned. So here’s the deal: either we bunk at Ranger Station Fourteen and day-trip it out to the Forgotten, or you hold off on your investigation until we’ve got a real handle on the Shadow Militia. Your call.”
Even as jitters took up residence in her stomach, she narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out if he was on the level or if this was another version of the familiar song that went I’ve got better things to do than drag you around; I wish you’d go away.
Most of the time, her escorts were happy to bring her to the infected site and eager to hear what she had to say about their problem. Occasionally, though, she ran into the other kind: the ones who didn’t want her around, whether because she’d been foisted on them, they saw her as a threat or because they didn’t want to be anyone’s chaperone. She didn’t peg this guy as foistable or threatened, but he also didn’t strike her as the type to volunteer to babysit a visiting scientist. What she didn’t know was whether he was overemphasizing the danger in an effort to run her off…or if there was really a chance that there were still armed killers hiding somewhere in the Forgotten, which had the rep of being seriously rough territory in its own right.
Her jitters edged toward nerves, but she held her ground because logic said it couldn’t be that bad or her assignment would’ve been called off. Whether or not she agreed with it—which she didn’t—investigations into plant outbreaks often got shunted back behind human factors, and she’d had cases canceled over far smaller problems before.
Testing the waters, she said, “If it’s that dangerous, I’m surprised your bosses okayed the investigation.” Glancing down, she went for her phone. “Maybe I should call—”
He caught her wrist. “Don’t.”
For a few agonizing seconds all she could feel was the warm touch of his hand and the press of his fingers over her pulse. Heat washed up her throat to her face, bringing a heady mix of attraction and nerves. Her heart pounded, she couldn’t catch her breath, and… Knock it off, she told herself. He’s not that hot.
Okay, maybe he was, but that didn’t change his basic makeup: namely, a cop from a cop family. What was more, she had her answer. He was trying to play her.
Tug
ging her arm from his grip, she regarded him coolly. “Level with me, then. How high is the risk really, Detective?”
“Too high.” But when she just kept looking at him, he glanced away and made an annoyed sound. “Look, it’s nothing solid at this point, or else you’re right, your people or mine would’ve already called things off. But some of the cops on the task force—good cops, people I trust—say their guts are telling them that the militia is still in the area. There’ve been some signs.” He looked back at her, his eyes making her think once more of clear, still lakes and reflected skies. But there was zero sunshine in his voice when he continued, “If I’m under orders to keep you safe, then I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t suggest that you hold off on your investigation until we’re sure the area is secure. The Forgotten has been there for a long time—another few weeks or months won’t make a difference to the trees.”
It wasn’t what he said that had annoyance bubbling up inside her; it was the way he said it, with practically a verbal pat on the head. Stop being so dramatic, the woods will be fine. And even if they’re not, who cares? There are lots of trees in the forest—ha ha.
And wasn’t that just typical? she thought as anger flared to replace the heat of his touch. “For your information, Detective, we’re not just talking about trees here. This could be the beginning of a widespread ecological collapse that could take out the native wildlife in the area…including the last remaining wild population of barred eagles that we know of. Not to mention that weeks or months absolutely could make a difference when it comes to a fast-moving infection and the disruption it can cause to a fragile ecosystem. In fact, days could make a difference, which is why I canceled a speaking engagement and fast-tracked a grant application to get my butt down here as soon as I found out about the problem in the Forgotten.” She paused, though, because there were still some solid nerves beneath the irritation. And although she might be tripping over her tongue right now with her handsome escort, she wasn’t an idiot. “Please, Detective, tell me honestly—and we’re talking the absolute truth here, taking your other cases or whatever else is going on inside your head out of the mix—how much real and concrete danger will I be in if we go out there?”
His gaze sharpened on her with surprise and, she thought, maybe a bit of respect. Didn’t expect the pint-size plant nerd to push back, did you?
He was paying attention now, though, with none of the earlier eye crinkle that said he was humoring her. And his voice was dead serious when he said, “Okay, Doc, here’s the deal. There’s no hard evidence that the militants are still in the area, and there hasn’t been any sign of daytime movement, at least not that the surveillance has managed to pick up. It’s just gut feelings and suspicions right now. So, no, there’s no hard evidence. And if you’re certain that you want to do this, we’ll go. But I’m going to drive you in and out each day from Station Fourteen, and camping out up at the site just isn’t an option. Take it or leave it.” He paused, then said almost grudgingly, “For what it’s worth, I know the situation’s not perfect, and I’m sorry that it’s going to complicate your investigation.”
He even looked like he meant it, which had her tension easing somewhat, and her shoulders coming down a bit from their tight “trying to be taller” squareness. “Okay,” she conceded. “The commute is going to slow me down, but I’ll work around it somehow.”
“And you’ll do what I tell you once we reach the Forgotten?”
“I won’t do anything stupid.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
No, it wasn’t, but she knew better than to make blanket promises like that. Re-squaring her shoulders and not letting herself get trapped in those eyes, which made her want to agree to just about anything, she said, “If we’re talking about cop stuff, then yes, of course you’re in charge. But when it comes to fieldwork, I’m going to be calling the shots on when, where and what. And the ‘when’ is now and the ‘where’ is out at the infection site. I know you probably think what I do is lightweight compared to your job, but if my suspicions are correct, Bear Claw Canyon could be looking at a major ecosystem collapse unless we can—or, rather, unless I can—contain the spread of this disease.”
As if to punctuate her words, the luggage carousel finally rumbled to life, the “Delayed” sign blinked off, and her flight number came up in glowing pixels. The luggage started spitting out almost immediately, and Blondie grabbed a couple of Vuittons and clicked away with only a single last look over her shoulder, which the detective didn’t acknowledge. He kept his eyes locked on Tori, and she stared right back.
Finally, he sighed, nodded and broke their eyeball stalemate. “Okay, we’ll head out to the station and go from there. Which bags are yours?”
“I’ve got them.” As her two bulging duffels trundled their way around the conveyer, she stepped forward and snagged them. She was aware of his gaze following her as she handled the heavy load with a combination of leverage and a bone-deep refusal to let him see her wobble. When she turned back to him, he was holding out a hand. She eyed it, trying not to notice the faint but capable calluses or how much bigger it was than her own. “You want to shake on it?”
“We could do that. Or you could give me those bags and we can hit the road.”
She wasn’t entirely sure if they had reached an agreement, a standoff or what. But as she handed over one of the duffels and stubbornly kept the other for herself, and then followed him out to a capable-looking dark green SUV, she knew for darned sure that she was going to need to be on her toes around this guy if she planned on running the investigation on her terms. After all, high-country lakes might appear to be a simple, beautiful blue on the surface, but they often had submerged dangers that could snag the unwary boater…especially if she was too busy being caught up in the scenery to see the danger before she went overboard.
Chapter Three
By the time he steered his SUV onto the final section of road leading up to Ranger Station Fourteen, Jack was more than ready to get the hell out of the car. He was riled up, wound tight and needed to move so badly that it was taking him an almost physical effort to not stomp on the gas and blast up the last few miles going way too fast for safety.
It wasn’t because of anything his passenger had done either. Before they even reached the highway, Tori had pulled off her windbreaker, wadded it up against the door-frame to use as a pillow and fallen instantly asleep. Nope, she wasn’t the problem at all; he was. Because with her sleeping so soundly, he was free to glance over at her time and again, trying to figure her out.
When she had first come through the security checkpoint, he’d instantly gotten the impression of movement and energy, creating a vitality that had filled the space around her so thoroughly that he hadn’t realized how tiny she was until she was right there in front of him. Even then, she had radiated such competence in her practical clothes and tomboy appearance—a cute tomboy in glasses and a ponytail, but a tomboy nonetheless—that he had told himself she’d be okay in the Forgotten.
Heck, she’d had no problem standing up to him, had she? She’d gone right after him with a one-two punch of logic and determination, with the subtle threat of “let’s call our bosses” behind it all, much as Tucker’s wife, Alyssa, might have done, or any one of the other rock star lady cops Bear Claw was fortunate enough to have in the field.
He hadn’t anticipated that sort of grit, guts and determination from a tree doctor—he’d been expecting someone quieter and a lot less fiery, he supposed, and that was probably what he got for making assumptions.
Now, though, seeing her asleep with one hand folded beneath her head, the other curled loosely around the seat belt where it crossed her chest, he was acutely aware that if he gripped her wrist his fingers would overlap his thumb almost fully. And, granted, that had nothing to do with her competence as a scientist…but it sure had him twitchy about bringing her out to the backcountry.
Lucky for me she’s not the long, cool blonde Tuck
er was talking about, he thought. Because it was going to be bad enough dividing his attention between his diminutive protectee and the militia case; the last thing he needed was to have any kind of inappropriate attraction rear its head. And, hello, why was he even thinking about that? She was here for a few days, a week or two at the most, which was nowhere near long enough to start something like that.
“We’re here,” he announced as the SUV rolled past the rustic, T-shaped building that housed Ranger Station Fourteen—empty now, with the season having closed a few weeks earlier—and continued on to the quirky little house beyond it: an old research observatory that head ranger Matt Blackthorn had converted into his private quarters, and where he lived more or less year-round despite the harsh conditions.
Matt was every inch an ex-cop even though he didn’t like to talk about his time on a city force far away. The ranger didn’t like to talk about much really, although that had been improving since he fell for Gigi Lynd, the pretty CSI who’d wound up embroiled in the initial round of attacks by the Shadow Militia. Last Jack had heard from Gigi—who had done some ride-alongs with him and become a casual friend—she and Matt were keeping a sharp eye on things up at Fourteen but hadn’t seen any evidence of the militia. He hadn’t been able to get hold of her today, though, and was looking forward to getting an update from her and Matt.
As he pulled into the parking area in front of the observatory and killed the engine, Tori sat up and blinked around, her brown eyes looking owlish behind her glasses, and then lighting as she took in their surroundings.
And, yeah, Matt’s house was pretty cool, almost an inland lighthouse, with two levels of living space and a tall platform sprouting from one side. Towering high above the surrounding trees, it overlooked sweeping, rock-strewn vistas on all sides, some furred with a light, high-altitude tree covering, others bare. It was all drought-dry and dusty with ash from the wildfires that had leveled large portions of the forest to the south and west of Station Fourteen, but he still thought it was a seriously cool sight.
Bear Claw Bodyguard Page 2
