by KH LeMoyne
He gave her a brisk nod. His hands gripped his shoulder straps until his knuckles shone like bleached bone. “What got you into it? Being a ranger, I mean.”
“I love the outdoors and working with people who are passionate about nature. Rescues and challenges provided a combination of excitement and peace. My team members made every day worthwhile. At the time, it was a calling.”
“There’s more to you quitting—I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but—”
Death. Overconfidence. Regrets. She inhaled against the sadness. “I lost several members of my team. It sort of built up. One day I realized my perspective had changed. I couldn’t do the job anymore.”
Two hours later, she left him at the site arranging the rocks for the fire ring and stacking logs for firewood.
She climbed several feet higher along an outcrop of rocks for her last readings. The sun speared thin rays along the mountain peaks. If she took the time to turn around and see the approaching stars, she’d miss the sunset. Instead, she focused on the scope.
Two red figures resolved into wolf outlines, large for the species in the area. The creatures lingered near the streambed several hundred feet below. A slow search of the hillside brought no more evidence of Shanae’s location than before, but Lena hadn’t expected to find her this close to the edge of the parkland. It didn’t stop her brief wave of disappointment.
Before she had time to think, the skin on the back of her neck itched. She whipped her head around as she grabbed for her gun and then gasped.
Deacon stood several inches away, blended with the shadows of the rock behind her. Close enough that his breath teased the stray hairs at her cheek.
His undetected approach irritated her. That she had to look up at him to say so just pissed her off. “Mr. Black. Didn’t anyone ever tell you sneaking up on people is impolite?”
“If you’re going to put me in my place and shoot me, I’d prefer you at least call me Deacon.” He raised a brow and glanced down at the gun aimed at his stomach.
Deacon almost regretted interrupting her tirade. Even in the fading light, a blush colored her prominent cheekbones and her chestnut eyes sparkled. Both details he wished were there for a different reason. But he held a serious dislike for guns and an even stronger aversion to being shot. One too many training sessions during hunting season had killed his desire to court that kind of danger. His father’s insistence on exposing newly turned shifters to the hazards of the “wrong place and wrong time” reinforced Deacon’s instincts. Wolf, bear, and coyote hunting seasons in the parklands cured more than one young shifter of the casual ignorance of their environment. Two of his childhood friends hadn’t lived to make the mistake twice.
Logic and a compulsion to protect his clan’s young forced Deacon to change the training practices once he’d assumed the alpha role. Similar practicality now urged him to confirm Lena’s safety.
Evidently, he’d underestimated her capabilities, though she’d had no more luck with her mission than he’d had with his.
A full day of traipsing through every bush, streambed, and meadow had unearthed no sign of Shanae. He had scented an old trail, several days old at least, with the lingering distraction of wolf pup intermingled with her path. Her trail looped back and forth and folded in on itself several times, ending abruptly at the stream below. With hunters detected at midday, his team had shifted back to human form. A less productive and more time-consuming approach, but Deacon refused to take chances.
Unfortunately, his human self was as aware of the faint tug between himself and Lena as his wolf. She carried a beacon inside her, a lure extending in vibrating coils through the air that buried into pulsing knots beneath his flesh. With each yard she moved closer toward him, anticipation hummed through his blood; each step farther away, disappointment burned. No longer able to split his mind in two directions, he’d sought her out to satisfy himself of her safety before he headed higher for the night.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Her brow rose at his lie. Stealth wove too tightly beneath his shifter makeup, making him at fault for her surprise. He’d intended to announce himself. After he’d given in to the temptation for a sniff beneath the floral scent of her shampoo to isolate Lena’s individual fragrance.
He would have buried his nose in her hair if she hadn’t turned around. Probably gotten himself shot too.
Lena’s gun disappeared into the back of her waistband. “Please, don’t do that again.” She frowned at him as if he were five. “I can’t be responsible for you getting hurt if you ignore common sense.”
“You would prefer I yell hello, so everyone can know I’m here?”
The corner of her mouth twitched, humor replacing her previous irritation. Though he didn’t mind her annoyance. She blossomed when her emotions peaked, breaking through her smooth shell of practiced calm. His wolf detected strong passion hidden beneath that layer of professionalism. His woman. A powder keg of sensuality waiting for him to ignite it.
His beast strained, and he fought to keep his hands stuffed in his jean pockets. “How familiar are you with these forests, Lena.”
“Evidently, not as familiar as you, Mr. Black.” She turned again, checking the horizon. As if the final sunset met with her approval, she nodded and dug into her pocket, retrieving an odd set of glasses. “Even with limited knowledge of these particular parklands, I can read maps, weather reports, and understand environmental signs. I’ve done my research.”
He squinted, trying to discern the details of her equipment. Compact when she’d extracted them, they had now folded wider and longer into some sort of binoculars. “Night vision goggles?”
“Hmm,” she said without turning around. “They detect air pressure and temperature pockets as well.”
“Good selection. But fancy toys won’t help you if you run into wild animals or get caught up here in an unexpected blizzard.”
She lowered the glasses and turned back, her mouth open for a second. He moved a step back as her lips tightened. “Are you really delivering a survival lesson, Deacon?”
His name snapped in a way unpleasant to his wolf, and he crossed his arms to hold the beast down. His every instinct screamed protection. “As someone who is intimately familiar with this area, I’m warning you about pitfalls you might encounter.”
She rolled her eyes, but the tense lines in her face eased. “Ranger Trahan already gave me the Girl Scout talk. When do I get the big-girl lecture?”
He couldn’t stop scowling at the quick realization she was right. He’d never appreciate a talk down, and he was treating her like a child, like the youngest of his clan. Still, she’d pricked his ego. “Fill me in on exactly what the big-girl lecture is?”
She smiled so sweetly, he almost didn’t catch what she said. The transformation of curved lips and bright eyes were a distraction. “That’s where you tell me that if I need anything, I should call you, and you’ll come running.”
Like a splash of cold water, he was back in reality. Then she had the audacity to bat her eyelashes at him.
Damn, an offer of help had been there somewhere in his plans for her. Maybe not in quite the condescending way she’d outlined. Of course he’d come for her. Even if she didn’t call, he’d keep an eye on her, whether she allowed him to or not. She had no idea the lengths he’d go to for her, and the realization made him a bit testy as well. “That works for me. If you have a flare gun in those pockets, signal me.”
“Poor little ole me calls for big strong you. No offense, Deacon, but I’m qualified to deal with wilderness hardships. I’ve been places where the sun can strip paint off a car in a day and where the wind can blast rock to sand in two. I’ve dug holes to bury myself from blizzards as well as flaming debris.” She turned away with a pained expression as if she’d gone too far. “But you want to know uncomfortable? Those desert exercises—the sand doesn’t ever come out of your underwear.”
He didn’t hold back his grin. She knew the
effect she had on him, and she had the cheek to throw it back in his face, even when the sad emotions he sensed in her didn’t match her banter. A gutsy woman, one who hid her hardships and grew stronger instead of succumbing to defeat. His groin tightened at the thought of having her.
“I appreciate the offer of backup. Consider the same from me as well.” She turned away and back again, looking pointedly at his stomach where her gun muzzle had rested earlier. “I’m more than a fair shot, so don’t make the mistake of getting in my way.”
He didn’t doubt her. His laugh at her taunt echoed around them.
She didn’t give him a backward glance as she picked her way down the rocks toward her campsite.
7
By daybreak, Lena and Matthew were ready to head out. Last night’s fire had provided enough warmth to get them settled and enough hot water to make their dried food packs edible if not palatable.
Matthew left to refill their water bottles as Lena eyed the pink-and-purple sky. She took readings for wind, temperature, and humidity. The onset of morning evened out the skyline of trees and rocks, but the night chill still lingered. Deacon was right about one thing. The weather could turn on a dime up here. Her night scope didn’t indicate a front coming in, but the air smelled like snow.
She kicked again at what was left of their fire ring. A few bags of water from the stream had turned char into slush. Nothing potentially hazardous remained.
At a noisy cough, she glanced around, not surprised to see Deacon standing behind her. Where had he slept last night that he was here this early? In the ranger’s hut, his team had carried no equipment or backpacks, but curling up against a tree overnight wasn’t practical. Then again, the fur side of his nature probably kept him warm.
She shook that thought away and narrowed her eyes. She needed answers to Shanae’s past and the reason for her disappearance. Now was as good a time as any.
“You keep showing up, Deacon. So I feel compelled to ask why you’re searching so hard for Shanae. Don’t give me that story about how she arranged to meet you. If that were the case, she’d be with you, and you’d be long gone.”
Her question brought a blank mask over his expression, a cold, brutal look most people would take as an end to the conversation. She wasn’t most people. She lived for the subtext of people’s expressions. What they didn’t say usually spoke volumes. She braced her shoulders, prepared to outwait him.
“She’s run from her husband, and you blame us?” He cocked his head as he stared her down.
Despite his dominant posture, she didn’t buy the intimidation tactic. He didn’t believe his own accusation. Why would he expect her to back off? “Blame isn’t the word I’d use. Her actions don’t make sense considering the life she’s lived these past seven years.”
“What if I told you she has a history of running when she can’t resolve issues?”
“Does she?”
“No. But did you consider it?”
Did he really have the balls to smirk at her after such a stupid remark? “I considered instead what would make a woman cut ties with her family.”
His smirk disappeared, replaced by a tight expression. “No one in the family hurt Shanae.”
“Then she left, not ran away? A person could do that more than once.” Now for the layer of truth. “You refer to her as family, but with no hint as to what your relationship is with her.”
His face twisted momentarily with shock and then disgust. “I’m not intimate with her, if that’s what you’re implying. None of us are. Actually, she’s rather like my daughter. She was an orphan and claimed—protected by many of us. We’re not a subversive cult, and no one has lecherous designs on her.”
“Do you have other children?”
He paused with a show of hesitation. “Not yet. My hope would be that like Shanae, any child of mine would know they have nothing to fear in coming to me for help.”
Lena rolled her shoulders and glanced away, surprised how uncomfortable she suddenly felt delving into his personal life. Though he’d answered readily and openly. “Sounds good. All the right words and everything, but I don’t know you. Or anyone on your team. You could be mercenaries or serial killers or slave traders.” His eyebrows disappeared beneath the disheveled dark strands over his forehead, but she charged on to see how far she could push him. “If by your assertions I have to consider you innocent, then objectively Matthew is in the same boat with the rest of you. Except, in his defense, there were neighbors and friends who vouched for his adoration of Shanae and—seven years of adoration.”
Damn, she’d almost disclosed Trevor. Too at ease with their verbal sparring, she’d almost lost the one edge she and Matthew had.
“I’ve heard the same propaganda, but we both know how much can be hidden behind closed doors,” Deacon said.
“True. She also ran away from her family, so you’re all even in my book.”
“I’m guessing we aren’t all innocent.”
“I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I assumed everyone was innocent until proven guilty.”
His quick, wicked smile took her off guard as impressive dimples worked to dissolve the scar across his right cheek. “Trust openly and suspect quietly. I like your approach, Lena, even if I don’t conform to that myself.”
Well, she didn’t have furry instincts to guide her decisions. At least not anymore. “For a minute, let’s assume everyone here is on the up-and-up. If that’s the case then there is another reason she’s running.”
Deacon nodded. “Your scenario is my primary concern.”
Ah, so the reason he kept showing up didn’t have to do with keeping an eye on their progress? Somehow she didn’t quite buy his answer. “If you don’t conform to my option of suspecting everyone, then you trust us?”
“Your background indicated experience with teams. Specifically units trained in search and retrieval during high-risk incidents. You’re qualified to find Shanae.”
She blinked. She hadn’t anticipated him checking her background. Her suspicion of Deacon and the team ratcheted up a measure. “Checked me out pretty thoroughly?”
“You don’t really hide your past. As I already mentioned, Shanae is family. I can’t afford to make mistakes in judgment.”
“That’s it. A few background checks, and I’m vetted. Dependable, trustworthy, and stalwart, like the motto reads?”
He leaned closer and inhaled. “You left out that you smell nice, and I detect nothing but the hard sweat of integrity and determination to find a woman you’ve never met. Not deceit.”
Jaw hanging open, Lena stepped back and then stopped, unable to put distance between them. His eyes darkened as his nostrils flared, but there was more than a simple sniff going on. His interest pulled at her. Hot and thick, the attraction tugged her back to him, but she refused to give in. His tug carried complications. He wasn’t getting the upper hand by throwing her off guard. She chose when and where to indulge. It wouldn’t be here, not before she’d finished her job.
“Then you won’t have any problem promising me we won’t work at cross-purposes,” she said. “No sending us on a wild-goose chase while you scoop up Shanae and disappear?”
He stared at her for several seconds. “You promise the same? She won’t leave without my having an opportunity to speak with her. Open disclosure.”
“We don’t have to go that far,” Lena admitted as he gave her a surprised look. “It’s not like you aren’t holding something back. I can tell that much. How about neither of us will withhold anything that compromises Shanae’s safety?”
Considering it for a moment, he glanced at the woods with an odd expression and then turned back, extending his hand. “You have my word.”
She didn’t want his touch. More honestly, she was afraid of an escalation of their previous skin-to-skin contact. However, refusing to finalize the agreement would introduce more animosity, not less, and she could fight her own cowardice. As his fingers closed over hers, she kept her b
reath steady.
It was everything she’d feared—and better. Warmth and strength returned. Along with the echoing flutter in her stomach, which, for insane reasons, vibrated to the clenching of her thighs and an insane tingle in her breasts.
He was every bit as dangerous—and appealing—to the touch as before. Her surroundings melted away. Green wavered at the corner of her eyes. Water spots she couldn’t control flickered as lightness engulfed her and drew her down. Jerking her gaze to Deacon, she noticed his wide-eyed expression and his nearness. His mouth was inches from hers, his breath fanning her lips, an intimate distance shy of a kiss.
Then the dizziness halted as if a low-pressure system sucked it away.
A mix of emotions flickered across his features, but despite her aptitude for deciphering people’s emotional layers, she couldn’t grasp even one of his. He held tight to his secrets, the signs too fleeting for her to read.
“Lena.”
At Matthew’s call from the wood’s edge, she pulled her hand free. Deacon’s hand remained in the same position, palm up. Then he curled his fingers into a fist, bowed his head to her, and walked away.
His hesitation, a seeming reluctance to end their contact, left her both pleased and puzzled. They’d definitely each experienced something out of the ordinary. Whether he felt their connection to the same degree remained to be seen.
She watched him head off, not sure which bothered her more, his reference to her sweat and the blatant sexist remark about her scent, though they were a compliment of sorts, or the flutters that still lingered in her belly even though he was out of sight. Damn. She didn’t need to be susceptible to the other team.
She kicked at the bits of char slush again to squelch her reaction.
Deacon might have declared her no threat, but she certainly didn’t consider him in the same way.
