by KH LeMoyne
“She escaped?”
“The car was a fireball at the bottom of a canyon near Los Angeles. The child was found by the police, unharmed and still strapped in her car seat on the side of the road. Not sure escaped is the word I’d use. Her maternal grandmother raised her. After she left the park service, she went into business with a friend of Grandma’s. Interestingly, no one seems to claim a tight relationship with her. Police department in Spokane is solid with her. Their words: no drama with her. They’d worked with her on several occasions. Her partner died of a heart attack this year and left her his business. Her regular cases consist of insurance disputes and domestic issues.” He paused. “The police actually threw Matthew Philmont in her direction. Don’t suppose you’ve run into her?”
“Not pertinent to your investigation.” A thought nudged at the back of Deacon’s memory, but fled as quickly as it came.
“Umm—okaay.”
“What is there on the fire that killed Grant? Any charges by the park service?”
“I’m still working that, but I found an old friend of Grant’s who mentioned a shaman he used to visit. Some sort of mental health and fitness kick. I haven’t tracked down the fellow yet. Also, the coroner associated with Grant’s autopsy, at least what was left of the body, retired. Marsh verified the doc was one of ours. Seems he took up traveling and may be hard to find.”
“Good leads. I need more, but it can wait. I want you and Breslin here, in case something goes wrong.”
“You want someone else to pick up the Juarez case?”
“Not right now. Keep this information quiet.” Meaning if Trim caught wind of this, Deacon would be gunning for grizzly hide.
“Oddly, I’m having trouble tracing the Sanders family history before they moved to Seattle. Hansen wasn’t born then. I did find that he was actually a stepbrother to Grant and the twins. Hansen’s a son from Sanders senior’s wife number two.”
“Anything on the first wife?”
“Not even a trace.”
“Timing for Seattle move?”
“Long enough after you became alpha that we should have some record of the father.”
“Could’ve escaped from another territory.”
“You may have a reputation for building your clan. If Sanders senior had nothing to hide, he’d have been safe here or in either Alarico’s or Whitman’s territory. Now Gauthier would have hunted Sanders down for the twin daughters. Might have taken the first wife.”
“I’d have given Sanders sanctuary, found justice for him if need be.”
“Exactly. So why lie low?”
“Prioritize more research on the father after finding the doc and the shaman.”
“Got it.”
Efficient, practical, focused, and reclusive. If Deacon didn’t know better, he’d think Lena was a shifter. He did know that she’d bonded with his people, he suspected more than with her own, leaving him to wonder if she had some bonding issues with her own kind. As his mate, her issues were his now. “Let me know if you get more. We’ll be out while it’s dark.”
After another small pause, Grizz said, “And the rest of the team?”
“Everyone survived the jump.”
A hasty throat clearing echoed. “Impossible to tell at this point if Juarez is guilty.”
“The evidence will resolve the issue.” Deacon hung up, stretched his neck, and struggled against his wolf’s urgings to pursue Lena, but the alpha needed Shanae found. Family first.
He heard a twig crack and turned. Fists on her hips, feet planted apart, Trim stood several yards away from him, frowning. Shit. Damn the shifter hearing. He wondered how much she’d overheard.
“What do we do about the humans?” she asked.
Deacon glanced at his second. Solidarity with the clan was Trim’s mainstay, but with solitude as her preferred lifestyle, her compassionate nature didn’t get much exercise. Matthew’s presence had raised her hackles. Her opinion of him was clear in her scowl. Lena had rubbed her the way any strong human woman with nerve and backbone might.
Matthew’s emotions had also broadcasted loud and clear: desperate and bewildered. All shifters could sense strong emotions, even beneath subterfuge. Trim had judged Matthew as weak. Not that Deacon considered Matthew that way. But deciphering guilt and innocence, truth and lies, was something only alpha senses or an omega could achieve. “We leave them alone. They won’t be able to keep up with us.”
He hid his smile at that lie. He counted on Ms. Juarez dogging their heels.
Trim shifted the strap around her neck, rubbing as if the contact caused some irritation. On cue, Wharton stepped into the clearing behind her and massaged her shoulders. She cast a fierce glance toward Deacon’s omega but bent her head and let him leech some of the animosity from her body.
“Don’t judge him yet, Trimbal,” Wharton said. As Trim pulled away and started to speak, he continued. “Or is it that pretty little female who brings out your vicious nature? I haven’t seen you so combative with a human in a long time.”
“She’s going to get in our way,” Trim said, moving away from Wharton. “We should immobilize them both before they become a problem and—”
“No.” Deacon’s growl escaped before he could control it. His snarl clipped Trim’s response short. He struggled for composure, but his anger surged, and they stared at him wide-eyed.
“That’s my signal to head out.” Wharton dissolved against the landscape as his silver wolf shifted onto all fours. A quick shake of his head jiggled the pouch at his neck and the leather strap that matched Trim’s and Deacon’s. Then he vaulted up a rock ledge toward the elk trails within the forest.
“I—” Trim started.
“Don’t,” Deacon snapped. “Listen carefully. They are to be left alone. Both of them. And by alone I don’t mean that you watch them drown or allow wild animals to pull them apart, obeying the letter of my command. Alone and safe.”
Her mouth opened, a rebellious spark lighting her eyes. Though something about the look on his face got through to her. “Right.”
He doubted that, but he refused to explain further. Years of fair treatment toward his people should buy him several hours or days of freedom from nagging. If anyone realized the truth of his predicament, the appearance of his mate—a full-born human at that—he’d find himself under constant observation and the source of everyone’s amusement or criticism. Hell, he couldn’t believe it yet himself.
He was helpless to do anything about it, for which he could only blame himself. Early in his command and eager to remove the injustices from previous edicts, he’d changed the rules in the clan. Ones he believed in his soul. As a single shifter male in his position, Deacon couldn’t claim or even discuss shifter mating with a human outside the clan. By his own decree, any mating by his people required a female’s claim, not the male’s—human or not.
Each rule existed for the common good, the purpose to curtail coercion. Not all the territory alphas in the shifter international community adopted the same path.
Inconvenient or not, as a territory alpha, he couldn’t enforce rules and then break them. Law dictated that.
Further complications from his unstable alpha powers and his wolf’s determination for control only added to his problems.
Between two shifters, mating processes flowed more easily. As a human, Lena was ignorant not only of their existence but of their rules. A circumstance he couldn’t change but which left him with seducing her into claiming him. Hardly ethical. At least he’d seen attraction flare in her eyes and scented her arousal. Chemistry wasn’t a solid basis for a lifetime bond, but it gave him hope.
He stalked toward the parting between the trees. First, he’d find Shanae. Then reach a decision about her unmated husband, because his senses detected no mating scent or visible mark that Shanae had claimed her husband.
Deacon exhaled as a lone howl broke the stillness. Wharton had reached the first peak.
Prepared to join him, Deacon p
lunged into the brush, his clothes and flesh evaporating, twisting. Atoms and molecules spun at his whim, dissolving man into beast, twisting his two-legged form into canine fangs and fur. One more howl echoed as his claws dug deep. He launched in the direction of his search, scent engaged and wolf in command. Predator seeking prey as nature intended.
The wind offered no new information, but one by one, he picked through the vibrations of life around him.
Shanae’s fading trail called him, and he charged faster, counting on her signal’s intermittent periods of strength.
He lifted his head, inhaled deeper this time. The sharp, cold bite of wind from an approaching storm front, the tang of leaves past their prime, and the crisp, pungent fear laced in the air—all hit his muzzle.
Hold to this bond, Shanae. His wolf roared, projecting his demand into every crevice within ten miles.
No response echoed. The magic of the earth and Shanae’s faint connection pulled him forward, and he ran.
6
Lena shivered as a vibration in her eardrums dissolved and heat slid down her spine. She glanced behind her. Only a hypnotic expanse of darkening blue smudged with powder puffs of gray filled the sky.
The faint déjà vu teasing her imagination ceased. Perhaps she was hearing things. Yet she trusted her instincts out here.
As a hawk screeched overhead, she gave herself a mental shake. Time to stop letting every little thing spook her. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t still capable and prepared.
She’d escaped the city for a few days every season during the last few years—a small taste of freedom for her soul. Any longer and Sam would have sent the forest service in after her, despite her career experience.
He’d feared the wilderness in the same way she’d detested loud crowds and claustrophobic streets and highways. She’d realized early on that he didn’t understand why a woman would take a job in the isolation of nature any more than he could picture them wanting to serve in the military.
Some things she didn’t bother wasting her time explaining.
Sam wasn’t just from a different generation. He’d never traveled more than two hundred miles from the town where he’d been born. He lacked the essential chromosome for the electric thrill of pushing one’s physical limits in unpredictable situations, the rush from achieving the impossible and surviving.
Still, he’d shared his practice and trained her when she needed somewhere to turn to. An unexpected godsend.
At first, Lena considered Sam’s offer to hire her a result of his long-standing relationship with her grandmother. Through the years, he’d embraced her as family, practically adopting her after her grandmother’s death. She’d channeled her leftover energies from her old life into skills useful in his business. Digging deep into a field that kept her far from what she craved fostered an emotional numbness she embraced. She’d shouldered more of the burdens of Sam’s business demands, keeping them both satisfied—leading to his offer to make her a partner. With a canny second sense for avoiding painful topics, he’d avoided asking questions about why she’d left the park service.
For that alone, he had deserved her respect and gratitude.
Now, with him gone, fate seemed determined to drive her back where a hawk’s screech and grizzly sightings drained all the stress from her muscles. “We need to set up camp soon.”
She glanced over at Matthew, prepared for his objection. Discreetly, she’d kept track of his progress. Despite whatever qualifications he possessed, he wasn’t in physical shape to keep up with her today. From the limp he went to great pains to hide, she suspected a blister. He’d driven himself hard in order to cover as much ground as possible. He wouldn’t last another day if they didn’t stop soon. “Even with your tools, we can’t navigate in the dark.”
Well, he couldn’t.
He shrugged off his pack with a wince. “I know. I think I’m more worried that if I sit down, I won’t be able to get back up.”
“We’ll rest here. Drink and refuel, then head for that next ridge.” She pointed beyond the expanse of wild grass to the fir trees sweeping up the mountain. A small break in the trees showed a rise of rock, a good thing to have at their backs at night. Also high enough that she could run some more tests.
They’d also pushed hard today. Even with her daily six-mile run and weight training, easing the pack off her back felt like releasing a ton. It would probably feel like two tons when she put it back on.
She monitored the compass readings on her wristwatch and walked to the edge of the deer path they’d followed. Narrow and almost invisible, the trail worked out the legs and challenged the eyesight more than the marked paths on the park maps. They’d managed to avoid any steep angles and climbing.
Squatting at an overlook of the ravine below, she spread a small topographical map and marked their current location. They would refill their canteens at the stream below their campsite. Her water test and purification kit wasn’t as compact as she liked, but it beat the heck out of porting gallons of water. Dehydration was a risk they needed to avoid.
Unbidden, memories flooded her. A hot day unlike this one, with strong winds at the forefront of a blistering wall of flames. Three hikers missing for forty-eight hours.
“Please, Lena, I can do this job better than anyone.” Grant leaned closer. “You know me. I can find them.”
Fractured conversations flitted through her memory, but they pressed in on her.
“Ranger Juarez, no offense, but you can’t rely on a rookie only two years in the park service to handle this search. Just because he’s part of your search and rescue team and he has smokejumper credentials doesn’t mean he’s qualified as a hotshot or even a ground pounder.”
Bits and pieces from different voices floated through her mind.
“Lena! You know the stats. Any of us in the ranger service is twelve times more likely to die on the job than a special agent for the FBI. It’s not your fault he’s gone.”
All the hindsight in the world couldn’t change the outcome. With a deep breath, she blocked the images and sounds. She had another job to do. One she refused to screw up by reliving the past.
Finished with jotting the statistics in her notebook, she lifted Matthew’s scope and squinted along the tree canopy below them. Visibility through the densely forested area would normally be impossible. However, the scope performed as Matthew predicted.
The large ambling bulk of a bear passed out of view. Clear images of a small herd of elk and several wolves also joined the scenery. No human forms—noticeably Shanae or Trevor—revealed themselves. At least Lena had the peace of mind of knowing she hadn’t bypassed them. Now if she could get a fix on Deacon’s team.
Another shiver slid across her skin, accompanied by the memory of fierce eyes that had held the promise of possession.
Get a grip, Lena. Think of the mission.
She took a slow deep breath. Then puzzled at the scent of musk and sandalwood lingering on the breeze, the aroma she’d detected on Deacon Black. That and the magnetic quality he possessed—the eureka factor. The label female rangers tagged on the rare man who exuded testosterone without the overbearing aggression. She couldn’t even remember who had said the ridiculous term first, but it defined a man comfortable in his own skin and who radiated the confidence to make the women he took to his bed comfortable in theirs.
She’d never encountered a man who tempted her that way. Not only did her personal preferences veer away from quick, brief connections, but relationships of any kind didn’t fit in her life. Though, like any woman, she’d had her fantasies. Under normal circumstances, she might consider herself open for a eureka moment.
Timing wasn’t working for exploration now. Especially with one of his kind. The temptation of animal fascination combined with irresistible attraction could well undo all her best intentions to place herself apart from these people.
With reluctance, she packed her research and returned to find Matthew ready and holding her pack. She
grimaced and then turned, accepting the burden.
They walked in silence, Matthew beside her, his legs eating up more ground despite his obviously stiff gait and the increasing elevation.
“Find anything?” he asked.
“About the same as last time we stopped. I wrote down what I’ve got. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather operate your own equipment?” She glanced over as he shook his head.
“No.” He inched his shoulder straps a bit higher with a grunt. “The police really wanted me to hire you and get out of their hair. They did a remarkable job on selling your skills. I figure since you’ve spent years exploring this country’s mountains and deserts, you have a better instinct for finding pockets to hide in than I do. I want your expertise to test and validate my equipment.”
Surprised at his comment, she realized she’d seriously underestimated Matthew. The design and construction of his equipment spoke for itself. But his ability to gauge a situation, analyze for the best results, and even take himself out of the equation if necessary spoke to his objectivity. “I’m saving my records—for your documentation on your scope. Would that be of any use to you?”
“Yes, I appreciate that.” A boyish smile changed his appearance, but it disappeared as he focused on the tree line above them. “How long for this next leg?”
She estimated the sun’s distance from the horizon. “Two hours. We need to be at our site in two hours.”
“Then?” he asked.
The man was going to drive himself crazy if she didn’t keep him busy. “I’ll climb up the ridge for more analysis, while you test water, fill the canteens, and get camp ready.”
Plodding with one foot in front of the next, Matthew said nothing.
“With the sun setting soon, our fire will be visible. The scent will carry for miles.” She couldn’t give him much hope, but dishing out the realities of their situation brought some benefits. Any opportunity to signal Shanae of their presence stacked the odds in their favor—and hers.
