Bear Claw Bodyguard

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 doorframe 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 Tucker 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.

Her lips curved and she sighed. “Oh, this is wonderful.”

Restless energy kicked through him like a jet on afterburners, making him want to … Hell, he didn’t know what he wanted to do except get moving. Maybe Tucker was right about his needing some time and space to get his head clear after all.

Jerking a thumb toward the main door, he said, “Come on in. I need to pick up some extra gear before we head out to the site.” A glance at the sky had him frowning. “If you even want to bother going up there today, that is. You’re really going to get only a few hours out at the site before we have to call it a night.”

Although there was a road between Fourteen and the Forgotten now, it was questionable at best, treacherous at worst, and there was no point in tackling it after dark.

“I’ll take what I can get,” she said firmly. “While you’re loading your stuff, I’ll change out of my airplane clothes and drop off some of my stuff if there’s a place for it.”

“There should be. It’ll be tight quarters with you, me, Matt and Gigi, but we’ll make it work.”

Once he let himself through the unlocked front door, though, the first thing he saw was a note lying on the butcher-block breakfast bar, with his name scrawled at the top. A quick scan told him that things weren’t going to be nearly as crowded as he had thought … and he really didn’t want to analyze why that information had his gut fisting on a low burn of heat.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Matt and Gigi are going to be out of town for the next few days. Looks like we’ll have the run of the place, along with a little extra elbow room.”

She avoided his eyes and shrugged. “Fine by me either way. I’m used to living in close quarters, and most of the time we’re here, I’ll be working on the data and samples I’ve collected. Don’t worry about entertaining me. The more I work, the faster you can get back to whatever you were doing before you got stuck babysitting me.”

“I’m not … Hmm.” He caught her faint grin, and almost wanted to laugh at himself, restlessness and all. “Hell. Go dump your stuff and we’ll get moving.”

She might be tiny, but she gave as good as she got.

Nodding, she strode across the lower level, which had the kitchen at one end, a good-size fireplace at the other, bracketing an open space filled with cushy couches and chairs strewn with colorful pillows and throws that were undoubtedly Gigi’s influence. She headed for the spiral staircase off in the far corner, but as she reached it, she turned back. “Sorry, I’m on autopilot. I’m in the guest room upstairs, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be on the couch, keeping an eye on the perimeter.” The main station house had recently been rebuilt after the militia members torched it as a diversionary tactic after all, and with the other rangers stationed on the ski slopes for the winter, they were going to be alone up there.

It wouldn’t pay for him to let down his guard. On the contrary, it could be a huge mistake. And if, deep down inside, he knew damn well that his taking the couch also had more than a little to do with his having noticed that behind those glasses her brown eyes were lush and gorgeous, and framed by some of the longest lashes he’d ever seen, he was the only one who needed to have any inkling of it, or of the way his heart skidded a little at the thought that the two of them would be alone together tonight, on either end of a spiral staircase.

She looked at him for an extra moment, making him wonder what she saw, but then she nodded and headed upstairs.

He didn’t watch her go, instead turning to the pile of gear Matt had left for him, which included additional firepower and survival gear. He thought the water purifier was overkill—especially given that they were in the middle of a drought—but there was plenty of room in the SUV, so he figured he’d load it all on the “better safe than sorry” theory. And he had asked the ranger to hook him up with everything he thought they might need out at the Forgotten.

Ten minutes later, as he came back in for the third and last load, he saw Tori coming down the stairs. And he stopped dead, his brain vapor locking and his body going on red alert, and his only coherent thought one of Oh, hell.

He was in serious trouble.

She wasn’t wearing her windbreaker or glasses anymore, and those changes made way too much of a difference. Gone was the impression of an adolescent owl or a teenager wearing her boyfriend’s jacket. In its place was the sight of a woman who might not be built big, but she was built right. Her legs were long in proportion to her body, and her slim waist accentuated with a webbed utility belt fitted through the loops of cargo pants that hugged her hips and moved lovingly with her as she came toward him. Her T-shirt was tight across a pair of surprisingly full breasts and snugged in at her waist and across a flat stomach that showed just a hint of a feminine curve.

She was carrying a knapsack over one shoulder, and the combined effect made him think of coeds and college. Hesitating near the breakfast bar, she said, “What’s wrong?”

In other words, he was staring. And that thing he’d been thinking about there not being a problem with attraction? Yeah. That had just gone straight out the window. She might not be long, cool or blonde, but he was attracted all right.

Yanking his attention to the last of the gear he hadn’t yet put in the truck, he set his jaw. “Nothing. Everything’s just fine.” He would make damn sure of it, in fact. Grabbing the last of the stuff, he turned away. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

As far as he was concerned, the sooner she finished her studies and headed back wherever she had come from, the better, because right now he couldn’t afford the distraction. He had to protect her, look for clues on the militia and get back on the Death Stare case as quickly as possible. The victims might be nothing more than junkies to some, but as far as he was concerned, they were just as important as any other group of victims. Which meant that he didn’t have time for big brown eyes or surprising breasts, or the way his body tightened as he heard her come outside behind him.

And even if he did have time, he reminded himself as he stowed the last of his gear, he wouldn’t be spending it with another woman who was just passing through. Been there, done that, bought the tux.

BY THE TIME Jack parked the SUV in a small clump of scrubby, stunted trees that looked exactly like the last thousand such clumps they had passed since leaving Ranger Station Fourteen, Tori wasn’t sure which was worse: the way he was grimly ignoring her, or the fact that it bothered her far more than it should.

Throughout the drive, one part of her had been cataloging the passing scenery, tapping notes into her handheld and generally getting a feel for the northernmost reaches of the state park and the damage done by the recent drought conditions. Another part of her, though, had been all too aware of Jack as he navigated the rugged one-lane track with deceptive ease and one hand on the wheel. Beneath that layer of calm, though, there was an electric tension that was transmitted in his every shift and breath, and in the few glances he sent her way.

She didn’t kid herself into thinking that he, too, was far too aware of the small space they were sharing. No, he was undoubtedly still seething over having to babysit a “tree doctor” instead of working other, more important—to him, at least—cases. But even that didn’t seem to be enough to make her hormones cool their jets, because as he climbed out of the SUV and turned back to retrieve a shotgun from a box in the backseat, she caught herself admiring the smooth grace of his big body, and the lethal economy of his practiced movements, which made her feel simultaneously safer and more exposed.

More, as she set about pulling the nonessentials from her knapsack, lightening the load for her first look around the site, she was acutely conscious of the way he slung the shotgun across his back with an easy, practiced move that brought a shiver of pure feminine appreciation.

Still, though, while he might be easy on the eyes and practically oozing outdoorsy pheromones, facts were facts: he was a cop; he was a local; and, justified or not, he was making it difficult for her to do her job. Three strikes and you’re out.

She should do herself a favor and remember that. Focus. She needed to focus, darn it. Forcing herself not to watch him as he walked an ever-widening spiral away from the vehicle, scanning the territory as he went, she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. When she did, the world spun slowly, warning her that she was more tired and jet-lagged than she’d even realized. Which explained her overactive libido but warned her that she needed to pay attention to her surroundings, not her escort. The Colorado backcountry could be seriously unforgiving, as could a mishandled investigation.

The scuff of a footstep had her straightening and turning to face him, hoping that he couldn’t see anything in her face—not the fatigue, not the knowledge that she wasn’t at her best and certainly not the buzz that entered her bloodstream as he drew close, eyes still scanning their surroundings, then going to the sky as he said, “You’ll have about three hours before we need to turn back, and even at that time we’re going to be getting in later than I like.”

His voice sounded strange to her after so much quiet between them. He didn’t offer an explanation or apology, but then again, he didn’t owe her either of those things. Regardless of what her hormones thought, they were nothing more than temporary business acquaintances. And if he could keep it professional despite not wanting to be there, she could do the same despite wanting … Well, better not go there.

Dredging up a professional smile and keeping a tight rein on both her thought process and her tendency to blurt the first thing that came to mind, especially when she felt a little out of her depth, she nodded. “Like I said before, I’ll take what I can get. Are we at the edge of the infected area?” The trees around them appeared normal, with none of the ghostly white filaments she’d seen in the photographs that had been sent to her by the prior Park Service investigator.

“Yeah. The white stuff starts about fifty feet from here and stretches all the way to the river, which is a few miles away. We can walk it or drive it, your call.”

She didn’t make the mistake of thinking the “your call” would extend one iota beyond when it suited him, but had to give him credit for trying. “It’ll take me a couple of hours to take preliminary samples and measurements, so parking here and hiking works for me. Then tomorrow I’d like to start from the river and spiral in from there.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

It didn’t take her long to select the gear she wanted to carry with her and load it into her knapsack, then jettison a few of the less crucial pieces so she wouldn’t kill herself trying to carry it. Jack stood nearby the whole time, keeping watch. With the shotgun slung across his back and a 9 mm in a hip holster, and his eyes scanning the trees with practiced intensity, he didn’t look like any cop she’d dealt with before. There was no badge or polyester, no subtle twitch that said he was more comfortable with civilization than out in the backcountry. Instead, there was the deep stillness she associated with hunters and spiritualists, though he didn’t strike her as either of those things, or at least not entirely. He was … different, she decided. Unexpected.

And she really needed to stop trying to figure out her chaperone and do her darned job. “Ready?” she said too brightly.

He gave her a look that said they weren’t headed off to a picnic and she didn’t need to sound so happy about it, but aloud, he said only, “You take point and I’ll watch our backs. You see anything suspicious, yell out, okay? I don’t care how small or silly it might seem—let me make that call.”

Sobering, she nodded. “Got it.” Even though given how thoroughly he was scanning their surroundings, she had a feeling he would pick up on anything suspicious way before she even had a clue. She wasn’t sure why that made her nerves worse rather than better, but she was definitely on edge as they headed off along the continuation of the tire-beaten track. She was hyperaware of his walking slightly behind and off to the side of her like a big, bristling guard dog at heel. Only he was so much more than that … which made him far too distracting.

Then she saw the first thready tendrils hanging from a strangely gnarled branch, and her attention sharpened between one heartbeat and the next. She paused on the track and said softly, “Oh. Hello there.” And in that instant, she felt like herself for the first time since she’d stepped through the final airport security checkpoint and into Jack Williams’s world.

She was aware of his watching her and keeping close as she moved off the track and circled from one infected tree to the next, following where the tendrils grew thicker and thicker, along a wandering line that angled away from the roadway. She dragged her fingertips along the trunks but didn’t touch the tendrils yet. Instead, she cataloged her impressions of the desert-dry backcountry, where the sun beat down even at its fading angle and the dust had a faint tang she couldn’t quite place. What are you? she thought, looking up at the white strands and seeing the way the branches curled inward where they attached, becoming bent, until the most infected of the trees came to look like ancient gnomes, stooped and gnarled, with wispy white hair that trailed nearly to the ground.

“Anything I can help with?” Jack asked.

She looked back at him, startled, both because for a moment she’d almost forgotten he was there and because he actually seemed to mean it. “Actually, there is. Give me the local-level dirt on this place.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How’d you figure me for a local?”

“You mentioned your father and uncle being detectives here, too. I made the leap.”

That earned her a considering look before he nodded and said, “Good leap. Yep, umpteenth-generation local here. My great-something-grandparents helped found the city, and there have been Williamses policing Bear Claw pretty much ever since.”

“Which makes you the perfect person to fill me in on the Forgotten,” she said, turning her attention back to the trees and telling herself there was no reason for her to feel a pang at the confirmation that his roots went deep.