Delta Fierce!

On loan for a local assignment, Max “Caveman” Decker already feels at home in the backcountry of Wyoming. Protecting one woman—even petite spitfire Grace Saunders—is a vacation to the Delta Force warrior. But Grace thinks something darker is at work than the murder she witnessed. It wasn’t a case of the wrong place at the wrong time—it was her “curse.” Every man she gets close to dies. Now she’s saddled with Decker, her sworn protector, who won’t leave her side. Any hope for a simple assignment will change once they’re living under the same roof, where Grace’s curse will be just as inescapable as the crosshairs of a killer.

“Your battery is dead.” Caveman glanced around. “You got another handy?”

She shook her head. “No. Fresh out.”

“Got a helmet?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but I won’t need it if I can’t get my ATV started.”

He spun and headed for the barn door. “You can ride on the back of mine,” he called out over his shoulder.

Grace’s heart fluttered at the thought of riding behind Caveman, holding him around the waist to keep from falling off. “No, thanks. Those trails are dangerous.” She suspected the danger was more in how her pulse quickened around the man than the possibility of plunging over the edge of a drop-off.

“I grew up riding horses and four-wheelers on rugged mountain trails. I won’t let you fall off a cliff.” He held up a hand. “Promise.”

She frowned. Knowing she only had a few minutes to get to the meeting location, Grace sighed. “Okay. I guess I’ll put my life in your hands.” She followed him out of the barn and closed the door behind her. “Although, I don’t know why I should trust you. I don’t even know you.”

Hot Target

Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ELLE JAMES, a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at ellejames@earthlink.net or www.ellejames.com.

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This book is dedicated to my mother and father,

who taught me that the sky was the limit, and all I needed

was to apply the hard work to reach for my dreams.

I love you both to the moon and back.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Extract

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Max “Caveman” Decker clung to the shadows of the mud-and-brick structures, the first SEAL into enemy territory. Reaching a forward position giving him sufficient range of fire, he dropped to one knee, scanned the street and buildings ahead through his night-vision goggles, searching for the telltale green heat signatures of warm enemy bodies. When he didn’t detect any, he said softly into his mic, “Ready.”

“Going in,” Whiskey said. Armed with their M4A1 carbine rifles with the Special Forces Modification kit, he and Tank eased around the corner of a building in a small village in the troubled Helmand Province of Afghanistan.

Army Intelligence operatives had indicated the Pakistan-based Haqqani followers had set up a remote base of operations in the village located in the rugged hills north of Kandahar.

Caveman’s job was to provide cover to his teammates as they moved ahead of him. Then they would cover for him until he reached a relatively secure location, thus leapfrogging through the village to their target, the biggest building at the center, where intel reported the Haqqani rebels had set up shop.

Caveman hunkered low, scanning the path ahead and the rooftops of the buildings for gun-toting enemy combatants. So far, so good. Through his night-vision goggles, he tracked the progress of the seven members of his squad working their way slowly toward the target.

An eighth green blip appeared ahead of his team and his arm swung wide.

“We’ve got incoming!” Caveman aimed his weapon at the eighth green heat signature and pulled the trigger. It was too late. A bright flash blinded him through the goggles, followed by the ear-rupturing concussion of a grenade. He jerked his goggles up over his helmet, cursing. When he blinked his eyes to regain his night vision, he stared at the scene in front of him.

All seven members of his squad lay on the ground, some moving, others not.

No! His job was to provide cover. They couldn’t be dead. They had to be alive. He leaped to his feet.

Then, as if someone opened the door to a hive of bees, enemy combatants swarmed from around the corners into the street, carrying AK-47s.

With the majority of his squad down, maybe dead, maybe alive, Caveman didn’t have any other choice.

He set his weapon on automatic, pulled his 9-millimeter pistol from the holster on his hip and stepped out of the cover of the building.

“What the hell are you doing?” Whiskey had shouted.

“Showing no mercy,” he shouted through gritted teeth. He charged forward like John Wayne on the warpath, shooting from both hips, taking out one enemy rebel after the other.

Something hit him square in his armor-plated chest, knocking him backward a step. It hurt like hell and made his breath lodge in his lungs, but it didn’t stop him. He forged his way toward the enemy, firing until he ran out of ammo. Dropping to the ground, he slammed magazines into the rifle and the pistol and rolled to a prone position, aimed and fired, taking down as many of the enemy as he could. He’d be damned if even one of them survived.

When there were only two combatants left in the street, Caveman lurched to his feet and went after them. He wouldn’t rest until the last one died.

He hadn’t slowed as he rounded the corner. A bullet had hit him in the leg. Caveman grunted. He would have gone down, but the adrenaline in his veins surged, pushing him to his destination. He aimed his pistol at the shooter who’d plugged his leg and caught him between the eyes. Another bogey shot at him from above.

Caveman dove to the ground and rolled behind a stack of crates. Pain stabbed him in the shoulder and the leg, and warm wetness dripped down both. He leaned around the crates, pulled his night-vision goggles in place, located the shooter on the rooftop and took him out.

With the streets clear, he had a straight path to the original target. Holstering his handgun, he pulled a grenade out of his vest, pushed to his feet and staggered a few steps, pain slicing through him. He could barely feel his leg and really didn’t give a damn.

Two steps, three... One after the other took him to the biggest structure in the neighborhood. As he rounded the corner, one of the two guards protecting the doorway fired at him.

The man’s bullet hit the stucco beside him.

Caveman jerked back behind the corner, stuck his M4A1 around the corner and fired off a burst. Then he leaped out, threw himself to the ground, rolled and came up firing. Within moments, the two guards were dead.

The door was locked or barred from the inside. Pulling the pin on the grenade, Caveman dropped it in front of the barrier and then stepped back around the corner, covering his ears.

The blast shook the building and spewed dust and wooden splinters. Back at the front entrance, Caveman kicked the door the rest of the way in and entered the building.

Going from room to room, he fired his weapon, taking out every male occupant in his path. When he reached the last door, he kicked it open and stood back.

The expected gunfire riddled the wall opposite the door.

After the gunfire ceased, Caveman spun around and opened fire on the occupants of the room until no one stood or attempted escape.

His task complete, he radioed the platoon leader. “Eight down. Come get us.” Only after each one of his enemies was dead did he allow himself to crumple to the ground. As if every bone in his body suddenly melted into goo, Caveman had no way left to hold himself up. Still armed with his M4A1, he sat in the big room and stared down at his leg. Blood flowed far too quickly. In the back of his mind, he knew he had to do something or he’d pass out and die. But every movement now took a monumental amount of effort, and gray fog gathered at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t pass out now, his buddies needed him. They could be dead or dying. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t straighten, couldn’t rise to his feet. The abyss claimed him, dragging him to the depths of despair.

* * *

“CAVEMAN,” A VOICE SAID.

He dragged himself back from the edge of a very dark, extremely deep pool that was his past—a different time...a terrible place. He shook his head to clear the memories and glanced across the room at his new boss for the duration of this temporary assignment. “I’m sorry, sir. You were saying?”

The leader of Homeland Security’s Special Task Force Safe Haven, Kevin Garner, narrowed his eyes. “How long did you say it’s been since you were cleared for duty?”

“Two weeks,” Caveman responded.

Kevin’s frown deepened. “And when was the last time you met with a shrink?”

“All through the twelve weeks of physical therapy. She cleared me two weeks ago.” His jaw tightened. “I’m fully capable of performing whatever assignment is given to me as a Delta Force soldier. I don’t know why I’ve been assigned to this backcountry boondoggle.”

Kevin’s shrewd gaze studied Caveman so hard he could have been staring at him under a microscope. “Any TBI with your injury?”

“I was shot in the leg, not the head. No traumatic brain injury.” Anger spiked with the need to get outside and breathe fresh air. Not that the air in the loft over the Blue Moose Tavern in Grizzly Pass, Wyoming, was stale. It was just that whenever Caveman was inside for extended periods, he got really twitchy. Claustrophobia, the therapist had called it. Probably brought on by PTSD.

A bunch of hooey, if you asked Caveman. Something the therapist could use against him to delay his return to the front. And by God, he’d get back to the front soon, if he had to stow away on a C-130 bound for Afghanistan. The enemy had to pay for the deaths of his friends; the members of his squad deserved retribution. Only one other man had survived, Whiskey, and he’d lost an eye in the firefight.

The slapping sound of a file folder hitting a tabletop made Caveman jump.

“That’s your assignment,” Kevin said. “RJ Khalig, pipeline inspector. He’s had a few threats lately. I want you to touch bases with him and provide protection until we can figure out who’s threatening him.”

Caveman glared at the file. “I’m no bodyguard. I shoot people for a living.”

“You know the stakes from our meeting a couple days ago in this same room, and you’ve seen what some of the people in this area are capable of. As I said then, we think terrorist cells are stirring up already volatile locals. Since we found evidence that someone is supplying semiautomatic weapons to what we suspect is a local group called Free America, we’re afraid more violence is imminent.”

“Just because you found some empty crates in that old mine doesn’t mean whoever got the weapons plans to use them to start a war,” Caveman argued.

“No, but we’re concerned they might target individuals who could potentially stand in the way of their movements.”

“Why not let local law enforcement handle it?” Caveman leaned forward, reluctant to open the file and commit to the assignment. He didn’t want to be in Wyoming. “If this group picks off individuals, would that not be local jurisdiction?”

Kevin nodded. “As long as they aren’t connected with terrorists. However, the activity on social media indicates something bigger is being planned and will take place soon.”

“How soon?”

Kevin shook his head. “We don’t know.”

“Sounds pretty vague to me.” Caveman stood and stretched.

“I set up this task force to stop a terrible thing from happening. If I had all of the answers, likely I wouldn’t need you, Ghost, Hawkeye or T-Rex. I’m determined to stop something bad from happening, before it gets too big and a lot more lives are lost.”

“I don’t know if you have the right guy for this job. I’m no investigator, nor am I a bodyguard.”

“I understand your concern, but we need trained combatants, familiar with tactics and subversive operations. As you’ve seen for yourself and know from experience, it’s pretty rough country out here and the people can be stubborn and willing to take the law into their own hands. I’m afraid what happened at the mine two days ago could happen again.”

Caveman snorted. “That was a bunch of disgruntled ranchers, mad about the confiscation of their herd.”

“Agreed,” Kevin said. “Granted, the Vanders family took it too far by kidnapping a busload of kids. But they knew about the weapons stored in that mine.”

“Are any of them talking?”

“Not yet. We’re waiting for one of them to throw the rest under the bus.”

“You might be waiting a long time.” Caveman crossed his arms over his chest. “People out here tend to be very stubborn.”

“You’re from this area,” Kevin said. “You should know.”

“I’m from a little farther north, in the Crazy Mountains of Montana. But we’re all a tough bunch of cowboys who don’t like it when the government interferes with our lives.”

“Hold on to that stubbornness. You might need it around here. For today, you’ll be an investigator and bodyguard. Mr. Khalig needs your help. He has an important job, inspecting the oil and gas pipelines running through this state. Contact his boss for his location, find him and get the skinny on what’s going on. You might have to run him down in the backwoods.”

Until he was cleared to return to his unit, Caveman would do the best he could for his temporary boss and the pipeline inspector. What choice did he have? As much as he hated to admit it, they needed help out in the hills and mountains of Wyoming. The three days he’d been there had proven that.

Caveman had met with Kevin’s four-man special operations team members. One Navy SEAL, one Delta Force soldier, an Army ranger and a highly skilled Marine. Ghost, one of the Delta Force men, had been assigned to protect a woman who had been surfing the web for terrorist activity. Her daughter had been one of the children who had been kidnapped on the bus.

Caveman, Kevin and the other three members of the task force had mobilized to save the children and the three adults on board the bus. The bus driver didn’t make it, but the children and the two women survived.

Kevin stood and held out his hand. “Thanks for helping out. We have such limited resources in this neck of the woods, and I feel there’s a lot more to what’s going on here than meets the eyes.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Caveman shook Kevin’s hand and left the loft, descending the stairs to the street below. When he’d entered the upstairs apartment, the sky had been clear and blue. In the twenty minutes he’d been inside, clouds had gathered. The superstitious would call it an omen, a sign or a portent of things to come. Caveman called them rain clouds. If he was going to get out to where Khalig was, he’d have to get moving.

* * *

GRACE SAUNDERS PULLED her horse to a halt and dismounted near the top of a ridge overlooking the mountain meadow where Molly’s wolf pack had been spotted most recently. Based on the droppings she’d seen along the trail and the leftover bones of an elk carcass, they were still active in the area.

She tied her horse to a nearby tree and stretched her back and legs. Having been on horseback since early that morning, she was ready for a break. Moving to the highest point, she stared out at the brilliant view of the Wyoming Beartooth Mountain Range, with the snowcapped peaks and the tall lodgepole pines. The sky above had been blue when she’d started her trek that morning. Clouds had built to the west, a harbinger of rain to come soon. She’d have to head down soon or risk a cold drenching.

From where she stood, Grace could see clear across the small valley to the hilltop on the other side. She frowned, squinted her eyes and focused on something that didn’t belong.

A four-wheeler stood at the top of the hill, halfway tucked into the shade of a lodgepole pine tree. She wondered what someone else was doing out in the woods. Most people stuck to the roads in and out of the national forest.

It wasn’t unusual for the more adventurous souls to ride the trails surrounding Yellowstone National Park, since ATVs in the park itself were prohibited. Scanning the hilltop for the person belonging to the four-wheeler, Grace had to search hard. For a moment she worried the rider might be hurt. Then she spotted him, lying on his belly on the ground.

Grace’s heartbeats ratcheted up several notches. The guy appeared to have a rifle of some sort with a scope. Since it was summer, the man with the gun had no reason to be aiming a rifle. It wasn’t hunting season.

Grace followed the direction the barrel of the weapon was pointed, to the far side of the valley. She couldn’t see any elk, white-tailed deer or moose. Was he aiming for wolves? Grace raised her binoculars to her eyes and looked closer.

A movement caught her attention. She almost missed it. But then she focused on the spot where she’d seen the movement and gasped.

A man squatted near the ground with a device in his hand. He stared at the device as he slowly stood.

Grace shifted the lenses of her binoculars to the man on the ridge. He tensed, his eye lining up with the scope. Surely he wasn’t aiming at the man on the ground.

Her pulse hammering, Grace lowered her binoculars and shouted to the man below. “Get down!”

At the same time as she shouted, the sound of rifle fire reached her.

The man on the floor of the valley jerked, pressed a hand to his chest and looked down at blood spreading across his shirt. He dropped to his knees and then fell forward.

Grace pressed a hand to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs. What had just happened? In her heart she knew. She’d just witnessed a murder. Raising her binoculars to the man on the hilltop, she stared at him, trying to get a good look at him so that she could pick him out in a lineup of criminals.

He had brown hair. And that was all she could get before she noticed the gun he’d used to kill the man on the valley floor was pointing in her direction, and he was aiming at her.

Instinctively, Grace dropped to the ground and rolled to the side. Dust kicked up at the point she’d been standing a moment before. The rifle’s report sounded half a second later.

Grace rolled again until she was below the top of the ridge. Afraid to stand and risk being shot, she crawled on all fours down to where she’d left her horse tied to a tree.

An engine revved on the other side of the ridge, the sound echoing off the rocky bluffs.

Her pulse slamming through her body, Grace staggered to her feet, her knees shaking. She ran toward the horse. The animal backed away, sensing her distress, pulling the knot tighter on the tree branch.

Her hands trembling, Grace struggled to untie the knot.

Tears stung her eyes. She wanted to go back to the man on the ground and see if he was still alive, but the shooter would take her out before she could get there. Her best bet was to get back down the mountain and notify the sheriff. If she rode hard, she could be down in thirty minutes.

Finally jerking the reins free of the branch, Grace swung up onto the horse.

The gelding leaped forward as soon as her butt hit the saddle, galloping down the trail they’d climbed moments before.

Grace slowed as she approached a point at which the trail narrowed and dropped off on one side. With the gelding straining at the bit to speed up, Grace held him in check as they eased down the trail. She glanced back at the ridge where she’d been. A four-wheeler stood on top, the rider holding a rifle to his shoulder.

Something hit the bluff beside her. Dust and rocks splintered off, blinding her briefly. Throwing caution to the wind, she gave the horse his head and held on, praying they didn’t fall off the side of the trail. She didn’t have a choice. If she didn’t get around the corner soon, she’d be shot.

Her gelding pushed forward, more sure of his footing than Grace. She ducked low in the saddle and held on, praying they made it soon. The bluff jutted out of the hillside and would provide sufficient cover for a few minutes. Long enough for her to make it to the trees. The shooter could still catch up, but the trail twisting through the thick trunks of the evergreens would give her more cover and concealment than being in the open. If she made it down to the paved road, she could wave someone down.

Riding like her hair was on fire, Grace erupted from the trees at the base of the mountain trail. A truck with a trailer on the back was parked on the dirt road. She slowed to read the sign on the door, indicating Rocky Mountain Pipeline Inc. No sooner had she stopped than a shot rang out, plinking into the side of the truck.

Grace leaned low over her horse and yelled, “Go, go, go!” The horse took off across a field, galloping hard.

Then, as if he tripped, he stumbled and pitched forward.

Grace sailed through the air, every move appearing in slow motion. She made a complete somersault before she landed on her feet. Momentum carried her forward and she landed hard on her belly in the tall grass, her forehead bumping the ground hard. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe and her vision blurred. She knew she couldn’t stay there. The guy on the four-wheeler would catch up to her and finish the job.

An engine roared somewhere nearby.

Grace low-crawled through the grass, blinking hard to clear the darkness slowing her down. When she could go no farther, she collapsed in the grass, no longer able to fight against the fog closing in around her. She closed her eyes.

It wouldn’t take the gunman long to find her and end it.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a man calling to her as if from the far end of a long tunnel.

“Hey, are you all right?” a deep, resonant voice called out.

Grace gave the last bit of her strength to pushing herself over onto her back. She made it halfway and groaned.

The hand on her shoulder eased her the rest of the way, until she lay facing her attacker. “Are you going to kill me?”

“What?” he said. “Why would I want to kill you?”

“You killed the man in the valley. And you tried to kill me,” she said, her voice fading into a whisper.

“I’m not here to kill anyone.”

“If you do. Just make it quick.” She tried to blink her eyes open, but they wouldn’t move. “Just shoot me. But don’t hurt my horse.” And she passed out.

Chapter Two

Caveman shook his head as he stared down at the strange woman. “Shoot you? I don’t even know you,” he muttered. He glanced around, searching for others in the area. She had to have a reason to think he was there to kill her.

He ran his gaze over her body, searching for wounds. Other than the bump on her forehead, she appeared to be okay, despite being tossed by her horse.

The animal had recovered his footing and taken off toward the highway.

Caveman would have the sheriff come out and retrieve the horse. For now, the woman needed to be taken to the hospital. He ran back to his truck for his cell phone, knowing the chances it would work out there were slim to none. But he had to try. He checked. No service.

How the heck was he supposed to call for an airlift? Then he remembered where he was. The foothills of the Beartooth Mountains. He didn’t have the radio communications he was used to, or the helicopter support to bring injured teammates out of a bad situation.

With no other choice, he threw open the truck’s rear door, returned to the woman, scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his truck. Carefully laying her on the backseat, he buckled a seat belt around her hips and stared down at her. Just to make certain she was still alive, he checked for a pulse.

Still beating. Good.

She had straight, sandy-blond hair, clear, makeup-free skin and appeared to be somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years old. The spill she’d taken from her horse could have caused a head, neck or back injury. If they weren’t in the mountains, where bears, wolves and other animals could find her, he would have left her lying still until a medic could bring a backboard, to avoid further injury. But out in the open, with wolves and grizzlies a real threat, Caveman couldn’t leave the woman.

He shut the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. The man he was supposed to meet out there would have to wait. This woman needed immediate medical attention.

As soon as he got closer to the little town of Grizzly Pass, he checked his phone for service. He had enough to get a call through to Kevin Garner. “Caveman here. I have an injured woman in the backseat of my truck. I’m taking her to the local clinic. You’ll have to send someone else out to meet with Mr. Khalig. I don’t know when I’ll get back out there.”

“Who’ve you got?” Kevin asked.

“I don’t know. She was thrown from the horse she was riding. She hasn’t been conscious long enough to tell me her life history, much less her name.”

“Grace,” a gravelly voice said from the backseat.

Caveman glanced over his shoulder.

“My name’s Grace Saunders.” The woman he’d settled on the backseat pushed to a sitting position and pressed a hand to the back of her head. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“I take it she’s awake?” Kevin said into Caveman’s ear.

“Roger.” He shot a glance at the rearview mirror, into the soft gray eyes of the woman he’d rescued. “Gotta go, Kevin. Will update you as soon as I know anything.”

“I’ll see if I can find someone I can send out to check on Mr. Khalig,” Kevin said.

His gaze moving from the road ahead to the reflection of the woman behind him, Caveman focused on Kevin’s words. “I found a truck and trailer where his office staff said it would be, but the man himself wasn’t anywhere nearby.”

“I suspect that truck and trailer either belong to the dead man or the man who was doing the shooting,” the woman in the backseat said.

“Dead man?” Caveman removed his foot from the accelerator. “What dead man? What shooting?”

“I’ll tell you when we get to town. Right now my head hurts.” She touched the lump on her forehead and winced. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t demand to know what she was talking about, knowing the woman needed medical attention after her fall. “To the clinic in Grizzly Pass.” He’d get the full story once she had been checked out.

“I don’t need to go to the clinic.” She leaned over the back of the seat and touched his shoulder. “Take me to the sheriff’s office.”

Caveman frowned. “Lady, you need to see a doctor. You were out cold.”

“My name is Grace, and I know what I need. And that’s to see the sheriff. Now.”

He glanced at her face in the mirror. “Okay, but if you pass out, I’m taking you to the clinic. No argument.”

“Deal.” She nodded toward the road ahead. “You’d better slow down or you’ll miss the turn.”

Caveman slammed on his brakes in time to pull into the parking lot.

Grace braced her hands on the backs of the seats and swayed with the vehicle as it made the sharp turn. “I was okay, until you nearly gave me whiplash.” She didn’t wait for him to come to a complete stop before she pushed open her door and dropped down from the truck, crumpling to the ground.

Out of the truck and around the front, Caveman bent to help, sliding his hands beneath her thighs. “We’re going to the clinic.”

She pushed him away. “I don’t need to be carried. I can stand on my own.”

“As you have so clearly demonstrated.” He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Fine. At least let me help you stand upright.” He slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her to her feet.

When she was standing on her own, she nodded. “I’ve got it now.”

“Uh-huh. Prove it.” He let go of her for a brief moment.

Grace swayed and would have fallen if he’d let her. But he didn’t. Instead he wrapped his arm around her waist again and led her into the sheriff’s office.

With his help, she made it inside to the front desk.

The deputy on the other side glanced up with a slight frown, his gaze on Caveman. “May I help you?” His frown deepened as he looked toward the woman leaning on Caveman. “Grace?” He popped up from his desk. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Johnny. Is Sheriff Scott in? I need to talk to him ASAP.”

“Yeah. I’ll get him.” He glanced from her to Caveman and back. “As long as you’re okay.”

Anger simmered beneath the surface. Caveman glanced at the man’s name tag. “Deputy Pierce, just get the damn sheriff. I’m not going to hurt her. If I was, I would have left her lying where her horse threw her.”

The deputy’s lips twitched. “Going.” He spun on his heels and hurried through a door and down a hallway. A moment later, he returned with an older man, dressed in a similar tan shirt and brown slacks. “Grace, Johnny said you were thrown by your horse.” He held out his hand. “Shouldn’t you be at the clinic?”

Grace took the proffered hand and shook her head. “I don’t need to see a doctor. I need you and your men to follow me back out to the trail I was on. Now.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Sheriff Scott squeezed her hand between both of his. “The wolves in trouble?”

“It’s not the wolves I’m worried about right now.” She drew in a deep breath. “There was a man. Actually there were two men.” She stiffened in the curve of Caveman’s arm. “Hell, Sheriff, I witnessed a murder.” She let her hand drop to her side as she sagged against Caveman. “I saw it all happen...and I was too far away...to do anything to stop it.” She sniffed. “You have to get out there. Just in case he isn’t dead. It’ll get dark soon. The wolves will find him.”

“Is that why you were riding your horse like you were?” Caveman asked.

She nodded. “That, and someone was shooting at me. That’s why Bear threw me.” Her head came up and she stared at the sheriff. “I need to find Bear. He’s running around out there, probably scared out of his mind.”

Sheriff Scott touched her arm. “I’ll send someone out to look for him and bring him back to your place.” He glanced at Caveman. “And you are?”

“Max Decker. But my friends call me Caveman.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you have to do with all of this?”

Grace leaned back and stared up at the man she’d been leaning on. “Yeah, why were you out in the middle of nowhere?”

“I was sent to check on a Mr. Khalig, a pipeline inspector for Rocky Mountain Pipeline Inc. I was told he’d been receiving threats.”

“RJ Khalig?” the sheriff asked.

Caveman nodded. “That’s the one.”

“He’s been a regular at the Blue Moose Tavern since he arrived in town a couple weeks ago. He’s staying at Mama Jo’s Bed-and-Breakfast,” Sheriff Scott added.

Grace shook her head. “I’ll bet he’s the man I saw get shot. He appeared to be checking some device in a valley when the shooter took him down.”

“What exactly did you see?” Sheriff Scott asked.

“Yeah,” Caveman said. “I’d like to know, as well.”

* * *

GRACE’S INSIDES CLENCHED and her pulse sped up. “I was searching for one of the wolves we’d collared last spring. His transponder still works, but hasn’t moved in the past two days. Either he’s lost his collar, or he’s dead. I needed to know.” Grace took a breath and let it out, the horror of the scene she’d witnessed threatening to overwhelm her.

“I was coming up to the top of a hill, hoping to see the wolf pack in the valley below, so I tied my horse to a tree short of the crown of the ridge. When I climbed to the crest, I saw a vehicle on a hilltop on the other side of the valley. It was an all-terrain vehicle, a four-wheeler. I thought maybe the rider had fallen off or was hurt, so I looked for him and spotted him in the shade of a tree, lying in the prone position on the ground, and he was aiming a rifle at something in the valley.” She twisted her fingers. “My first thought was of the wolves. But when I glanced down into the valley, the wolf pack wasn’t there. A man was squatting near the ground, looking at a handheld device.

“When I realized what was about to happen, I yelled. But not soon enough. The shooter fired his shot at the same time. The man in the valley didn’t have a chance.” She met the sheriff’s gaze. “I couldn’t even go check on him because the shooter must have heard my shout. The next thing I knew, he was aiming his rifle at me.” She shivered. “I got on my horse and raced to the bottom of the mountain.”

“And he followed?”

She nodded. “He shot at me a couple of times. I thought I might have outrun him, but he caught up about the time I reached the truck and trailer Mr. Decker mentioned. He shot at me, hit the truck, my horse threw me and I woke up in the backseat of Mr. Decker’s truck.” She inhaled deeply and let it all out. “We have to go back to that valley. If there’s even a chance Mr. Khalig is alive, he won’t be by morning.”

“I’ll take my men and check it out.”

Grace touched his arm. “I’m going with you. It’ll take less time for you to find him if I show you the exact location.”

“You need to see a doctor,” the sheriff said. “As you said, I don’t have time to wait for that.” He glanced at Caveman. “Do you want me to have one of my deputies take you to the clinic?”

Grace’s lips firmed into a straight line. “I’m not going to a clinic. I’m going back to check on that man. I won’t rest until I know what happened to him. If you won’t take me, I’ll get on my own four-wheeler and go up there. You’re going to need all-terrain vehicles, anyway. Your truck won’t make it up those trails.”

The sheriff nodded toward his deputy. “Load up the trailer with the two four-wheelers. We’re going into the mountains.” He faced Grace. “And we’re taking her with us.”

“I’ll meet you out at Khalig’s truck in fifteen minutes. It’ll take me that long to get to my place, grab my four-wheeler and get back to the location.” She faced Caveman. “Do you mind dropping me off at my house? It’s at the end of Main Street.”

“I’m going with you,” Caveman said.

“You’re under no obligation to,” she pointed out.

“No, but when you find an unconscious woman in the wilderness, you tend to invest in her well-being.” His eyes narrowed. He could be as stubborn as she was. “I’m going.”

“Do you have a four-wheeler?”

“No, but I know someone who probably does.” Given the mission of Task Force Safe Haven, Kevin Garner had to have the equipment he needed to navigate the rocky hills and trails. If not horses, he had to have four-wheelers.

“I’m not waiting for you,” Grace warned.

“You’re not leaving without me,” he countered.

“Is that a command?” She raised her brows. “I’ll have you know, I’ll do whatever the hell I please.”

Caveman sighed. “It’s a suggestion. Face it, if your shooter is still out there, you’ll need protection.”

“The sheriff and deputy will provide any protection I might need.”

“They will be busy processing a crime scene.”

“Then, I can take care of myself,” Grace said. “I’ve been going out in these mountains alone for nearly a decade. I don’t need a man to follow me, or protect me.”

The sheriff laid a hand on her arm. “Grace, he’s right. We’ll be busy processing a crime scene. Once you get us there, we won’t have time to keep an eye on you.”

“I can keep an eye on myself,” she said. “I’m the one person most interested in my own well-being.”

Caveman pressed a finger to her lips. “You’re an independent woman. I get that. But before now, you probably have never had someone shooting at you. I have.” He took her hand. “Even in the worst battlefield scenarios, I rely on my battle buddies to have my back. Let me get your back.”

For a moment, she stared at his hand holding hers. Then she glanced up into his gaze. “Fine. But if you can’t keep up, I’ll leave you behind.”

He nodded. “Deal.”

* * *

SHE GAVE THE truck and trailer’s location to the sheriff and the deputy. Because she didn’t want to slow them down from getting out to the site, she was forced to accept a ride from the man who’d picked her up off the ground and carried her around like she was little more than a child.

A shiver slipped through her at the thought of Caveman touching her body in places that hadn’t been touched by a man in too long. And he’d found her unconscious. Had she been in the city, anything could have happened to her. In the mountains, with a shooter after her, she hated to think what would have happened had Caveman not come along when he had.

If the killer hadn’t finished her off, the wolves, a bear, a mountain lion could have done it for him. Much as she hated to admit it, she was glad the stranger had come along and tucked her into the backseat of his truck.

“We’ll meet you in fifteen minutes,” Grace said to the sheriff.

He tipped his cowboy hat. “Roger.” Then he was all business back on the telephone before Grace made it to the door.

Once outside, Grace strode toward Caveman’s truck, now fully in control of the muscles in her legs. She didn’t need to lean on anyone. Nor did she need help getting up into the truck.

Caveman beat her to the truck and opened the passenger door.

She frowned at the gesture, seeing it as a challenge to her ability to take care of herself.

“Just so you don’t think I’m being chauvinistic, I always open doors for women. My mother drilled that into my head at a very young age. It’s a hard habit to break, and I have no intention of doing that now. It’s just being polite.”

Grace slid into the seat and gave a low-key grunt. “You don’t have to make a big deal out of it,” she said through clenched teeth.

Caveman rounded the front of the truck, his broad shoulders and trim waist evidence of a man who took pride in fitness. She’d bet there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body, yet he didn’t strut to show off his physique. The man had purpose in his stride, and it wasn’t the purpose of looking good, though he’d accomplished that in spades. And he was polite, which made Grace feel churlish and unappreciative of all he’d done for her.

When he slid into the driver’s seat beside her, she stared straight ahead, her lips twisting into a wry smile. “Thank you for helping me when I was unconscious. And thank you for giving me a ride to my house.” She glanced across at him. “And thank you for opening my door for me. It’s nice to know chivalry isn’t dead.”

His lips twitched. “You’re welcome.” Twisting the key in the ignition, he shot a glance toward her. “Where to?”

She gave him the directions to her little cottage sitting on an acre of land on the edge of town. She hoped Bear had found his way home after his earlier scare. The town of Grizzly Pass was situated in a valley between hills that led up into the mountains. Grace had ridden out that morning from the little barn behind her house.

As she neared the white clapboard cottage with the wide front porch and antique blue shutters, she leaned forward, trying to see around the house to the barn. Was that a tail swishing near the back gate?

Caveman pulled into the driveway.

Before he could shift into Park, she was out of the truck and hurrying around to the back of the house.

Her protector switched off the engine and hurried after her. “Hey, wait up,” he called out.

Grace ignored him, bent and slipped through the fence rails and ran toward the back gate next to the barn, her heart soaring.

Bear stood at the gate, tossing his head and dancing back on his hooves.

She opened the gate and held it wide.

Bear slipped through and turned to nuzzle her hand.

Grace reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the piece of carrot she’d planned on giving Bear as a treat at the end of the day. She held it out in the palm of her hand.

Bear’s big, velvety lips took the carrot and he crunched it between his teeth, nodding his head in approval.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Grace hugged the horse, relieved he wasn’t hurt by the bullet or by wandering around the countryside and crossing highways. “Hey, big boy. Glad you made it home without me.” She held on to his bridle and leaned her forehead against his. “I bet you’re hungry and thirsty.”

Bear tossed his head and whinnied.

With a laugh, Grace straightened and walked toward the barn. Bear followed.

Inside, she opened the stall door. Bear trotted in.

She removed Bear’s bridle and was surprised to find Caveman beside her loosening the leather strap holding the girth around the horse’s middle. “I can take care of that,” she assured him.

“I know my way around horses,” he said, and pulled the saddle from Bear’s back. “Tack room?”

“At the back of the barn. I can handle the rest. I just want to get him situated before we leave.”

“No problem.” He took the saddle and carried it to the tack room. Caveman reappeared outside the stall. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m leaving as soon as I’m done here.”

“Understood.” He took off at a jog out of the barn.

With her self-appointed protector gone, Grace suddenly had a feeling of being exposed. Shrugging off the insecurity, she went to work, giving the horse food and water, and then closed the stall.

From another stall, she rolled her four-wheeler out into the open. She hadn’t ridden it in a month and the last time she had, it had been slow to start. She’d had to charge the battery and probably needed to buy a new one, but she didn’t have time now. She’d promised to meet the sheriff in fifteen minutes. Already five had passed.

The next five minutes, she did everything she knew to start the vehicle and it refused.

Just when she was about to give up and call the sheriff, a small engine’s roar sounded outside the barn.

She walked out and shook her head.

Caveman sat on a newer-model ATV. “Ready?”

“Where did you get that?”

“My boss dropped it off.” He checked the instruments, revved the throttle and looked up. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“I can’t get mine to start, and we’re supposed to be there in five minutes.”

“Let me take a look.” He killed the engine and entered the barn.

Okay, so she wasn’t that knowledgeable about mechanics. She knew Wally, who had a small-engine repair shop in his barn. He fixed anything she had issues with. That didn’t mean she couldn’t take care of herself.

“Your battery is dead.” Caveman glanced around. “You got another handy?”

She shook her head. “No. Fresh out.”

“Got a helmet?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but I won’t need it if I can’t get my ATV started.”

He spun and headed for the barn door. “You can ride on the back of mine,” he called out over his shoulder.

Grace’s heart fluttered at the thought riding behind Caveman, holding him around the waist to keep from falling off. “No, thanks. Those trails are dangerous.” She suspected the danger was more in how her pulse quickened around the man than the possibility of plunging over the edge of a drop-off.

“I grew up riding horses and four-wheelers on rugged mountain trails. I won’t let you fall off a cliff.” He held up a hand. “Promise.”

She frowned. But she knew she only had a few minutes to get to the meeting location and relented, sighing. “Okay. I guess I’ll put my life in your hands.” She followed him out of the barn and closed the door behind her. “Although I don’t know why I should trust you. I don’t even know you.”

Chapter Three

Caveman settled on the seat of the ATV and tipped his head toward the rear. “Hop on.”

Grace fitted her helmet on her head and buckled the strap beneath her chin. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to drive, since I know the way?”

“Actually, it does.” He grinned, scooted to the back of the seat and glanced toward her, raising his brows in challenge.

Still, Grace hesitated for a moment, gnawing on her bottom lip.

God, when she did that, Caveman’s groin clenched and he fought the urge to kiss that worried lip and suck it into his mouth. The woman probably had no clue how crazy she could make a man. And he was no exception.

Finally, she slid onto the seat in front of Caveman. “Hold on.” She thumbed the throttle and the four-wheeler leaped forward.

Caveman wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his chest to her back. Oh, yeah, this was much better than driving.

Grace aimed for the back gate to the pasture, blew through and followed a dirt road up into the hills, zigzagging through fields and gullies until she crossed a highway and ended up on the road leading to Khalig’s truck and trailer. Another truck and trailer stood beside the original, this one marked with the county sheriff logo. Sheriff Scott and Deputy Pierce were mounted on four-wheelers.

Grace nodded as she passed them, leading the way up the side of a mountain, the trail narrowing significantly. There was no way a full-size truck or even an SUV could navigate the trajectories. Barely wide enough for the four-wheeler, the path clung to the side of a bluff. The downhill side was so steep it might as well be considered a drop-off. Anyone who fell over the edge wouldn’t stop until they hit the bottom a hundred or more feet below.

Now not so sure he’d chosen the right position, Caveman wished he had control of steering the ATV. He tightened his arms around Grace’s slim waist, wondering if she had the strength to keep them both on the vehicle if they hit a really big bump.

Caveman vowed to be the driver on the way back down the mountain. In the meantime, he concentrated on leaning into the curves and staying on the ATV.

As they neared the top of a steep hill, Grace slowed and rolled to a stop. “This is where I tied off my horse.”

The sheriff and deputy pulled up beside them. Everyone dismounted.

Fighting the urge to drop to a prone position on the ground and kiss the earth, Caveman stood and pretended the ride up the treacherous trail hadn’t been a big deal at all. “You rode your horse down that trail?”

She nodded. “Normally, I take it slowly. But I had a gunman taking shots at me. I let Bear have his head. I have to admit, I wanted to close my eyes several times on the way down.”

The sheriff nodded toward the ridgeline. “Was that your vantage point?”

She nodded, but didn’t move toward the top. “The shooter was on the ridge to the north.”

Sheriff Scott and the deputy drew their weapons and climbed. As they neared the top, they dropped to their bellies and low-crawled the rest of the way. The sheriff lifted binoculars to his eyes.

Caveman stayed with Grace in case the shooter was watching for her.

A couple minutes later, Sheriff Scott waved. “All clear. Grace, I need you to show me what you were talking about.”

Grace frowned, scrambled up to the top and squatted beside the sheriff.

Caveman followed, his gaze taking in the valley below and the ridge to the north. Nothing moved and nothing stood out as not belonging.

Grace pointed to the opposite hilltop. “The shooter was over there.” Then she glanced down at the valley, her frown deepening. “The man he shot was in the valley just to the right of that pine.”

The sheriff raised his binoculars to his eyes again. “He’s not there.”

“What?” She held out her hand. “Let me see.”

Sheriff Scott handed her the binoculars. Grace adjusted them and stared down at the valley below. “I don’t understand. He was in that valley. Hell, his truck and trailer are still parked back at the road. Where could he have gone?” She handed the binoculars back to the sheriff. “Do you think he was only wounded and crawled beneath a bush or something?” She was on her feet and headed back to the ATV. “We need to get down there. If that man is still alive, he could be in a bad way.”

The sheriff hurried to catch up to her. “Grace, I want you to stay up here with Mr. Decker.”

She’d reached the ATV and had thrown her leg over the seat before she turned to stare at the sheriff. “Are you kidding? I left him once, when I could have saved him.”

The sheriff shook his head. “You don’t know that. You could have ended up a second victim, and nobody would have known where to find either one of you.” He touched her arm. “You did the right thing by coming straight to my office.”

When the lawman turned away, Grace captured his hand. “Sheriff, I need to know. I feel like I could have done something to stop that man from shooting the other guy. I know it’s irrational, but somehow I feel responsible.”

The way she stared at the sheriff with her soft gray eyes made Caveman want the sheriff to let her accompany him to the valley floor.

“You promise to stay back enough not to disturb what could potentially be a crime scene?” Sheriff Scott asked.

She held up her hand like she was swearing in front of a judge. “I promise.”

The sheriff shot a glance at Caveman. “Mr. Decker, will you keep an eye on her to make sure she’s safe?”

“I will,” Caveman said. He wanted to know what was in that valley as well, but if it meant leaving Grace alone on the ridge, he would have stayed with her.

“Fine. Come along, but stay back.” Sheriff Scott and the deputy climbed onto their four-wheelers and eased their way down a narrow path to the valley floor.

Caveman let Grace drive again, knowing she was better protected with his body wrapped around her than if she’d ridden on the back.

At the bottom of the hill, Grace parked the four-wheeler twenty yards from the pine tree she’d indicated. “We’ll see a lot more on foot than on an ATV.”

“True.” Caveman studied the surrounding area, careful to stay out of the way of the sheriff and his deputy.

“Grace,” the sheriff called out.

She and Caveman hurried over to where the sheriff squatted on his haunches, staring at the dirt. He pointed. “Is this the spot where he fell?”

Grace glanced around at the nearby tree and nodded. “I think so.”

The sheriff’s lips pressed together and he pointed at the ground. “This looks like dried blood.”

Caveman stared at the dark blotches, his belly tightening. He’d seen similar dark stains in the dust of an Afghanistan village where his brothers in arms had bled out.

“Got tire tracks here.” Deputy Pierce stared at the ground a few yards away.

The sheriff straightened and walked slowly toward the deputy. “And there’s a trail of blood leading toward the tracks.”

Caveman circled wide, studying the ground until he saw what he thought he might find. “More tracks over here.” The tracks led toward a hill. Without waiting for permission, Caveman climbed the hill, parallel to the tracks. As the ground grew rockier, the tracks became harder to follow. At that point, Caveman looked for disturbed pebbles, scraped rocks and anything that would indicate a heavy four-wheeler had passed that direction.

At the top of the hill, the slope leveled off briefly and then fell in a sheer two-hundred-foot drop-off to a boulder-strewn creek bed below. Caveman’s stomach tightened as he spotted what appeared to be the wreckage of an ATV. “I found the ATV.” He squinted. What was that next to the big boulder shaped like an anvil? He leaned over the edge a little farther and noticed what appeared to be a shoe...attached to a foot. “I’m sorry to say, but I think I found Mr. Khalig.”

Grace scrambled to the top of the hill and nearly pitched over the edge.

Caveman shot out his hand, stopping her short of following the pipeline inspector to a horrible death. “Oh, dear Lord.”

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Caveman pulled her against him.

She burrowed her face into his chest. “I should have stayed.”

“You couldn’t,” Caveman said. “You would have been shot.”

“I could have circled back,” she said, her voice quivering.

“On that trail?” Caveman shook his head. “No way. You did the right thing.”

Sheriff Scott appeared beside Caveman. “Mr. Decker’s right. You wouldn’t be alive if you’d stopped to help a man who could have been dead before he went over the edge.”

Grace lifted her head and stared at the sheriff through watery eyes. “What do you mean?”

“We noticed footprints and drag marks in the dirt back there,” Deputy Pierce said.

The sheriff nodded. “I suspect the killer came back, dragged the body onto the ATV and rode it up to the hill. Then he pushed it over the edge with Mr. Khalig still on it.” He glanced over at the deputy. “We’ll get the state rescue team in to recover the body. The coroner will conduct an autopsy. He’ll know whether the bullet killed him or the fall.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Grace asked.

Sheriff Scott nodded. “I’d like you to come in and sign a statement detailing what you saw and at what time.”

“Anything you need. I’ll be there.” Grace shivered. “I wish I’d seen the killer’s face.”

“I do, too.” The sheriff stared down at the creek bed. “Murder cases are seldom solved so easily.” He glanced across at Grace. “You might want to watch your back. If he thinks you could pick him out in a lineup, he might come after you.”

Grace shivered again. “We live in a small town.” Her gaze captured the sheriff’s. “There’s a good chance I might know him.”

“If the law isn’t knocking on his door within twenty-four hours,” Caveman said, “he might figure out that you didn’t see enough of him to turn him in.”

“In which case, he’d be smart to keep a low profile and leave you alone,” the sheriff added.

“Or not.” Grace sighed. “I can’t stay holed up in my house. I have work to do. I still haven’t found my wolf.”

“It might not be safe for you to be roaming the woods right now,” the sheriff said. “By yourself, you present an easy target with no witnesses.”

Grace’s shoulders squared. “I won’t let fear run my life. I ran today, and Mr. Khalig is dead because I did.”

Caveman shook his head. “No, Mr. Khalig is dead because someone shot him. Not because you didn’t stop that someone from shooting him. You are not responsible for that man’s death. You didn’t pull the trigger.” The words were an echo from his psychologist’s arsenal of phrases she’d used to help him through survivor’s guilt. Using them now with Grace helped him see the truth of them.

He hadn’t detonated the bomb that had killed his teammates, nor had he pulled the trigger on the AK-47s that had taken out more of his battle buddies. He couldn’t have done anything differently other than die in his teammates’ place by being the forward element at that exact moment. He couldn’t have known. It didn’t make it easier. Only time would help him accept the truth.

* * *

“THERE IS SOMETHING you could do for me,” the sheriff said.

Grace perked up. “Anything.” After all that had happened, she refused to be a victim. She wanted to help.

“Go back down, get in my service vehicle and let dispatch know to call in the mountain rescue crew. Johnny and I will stay and make sure the wolves don’t clean up before they get here.”

“Will do,” Grace said. “Do you need me to come back?”

“No. We can handle it from here. You should head home. And please consider lying low for a while until we’re sure the killer isn’t still gunning for you.”

“Okay,” Grace said. Though she had work to do, she now knew she wasn’t keen on being the target of a gunman. She’d give it at least a day for the man to realize she hadn’t seen him and couldn’t identify his face. “You’ll let me know what they find out about the man down there?”

“You bet,” Sherriff Scott said. “Thank you, Grace, for letting us know as soon as possible.”

But not soon enough to help Mr. Khalig. She turned and started back down the hill. Her feet slipped in the gravel and she would have fallen, but Caveman was right beside her and helped her get steady on her feet. He hooked her elbow and assisted her the rest of the way down the steep incline.

At the bottom, he turned her to face him. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine, just a little shaken. It’s not every day I witness a murder.”

His lips twisted. “How many murders have you witnessed?”

“Counting today?” She snorted. “One.” With a nod toward the ATV, she said, “You can drive. I’m not sure I can hold it steady.” She held up a hand, demonstrating how much it trembled.

“Thanks. I would rather navigate the downhill trail. Coming up was bad enough.” He climbed onto the ATV and scooted forward, allowing room for her to mount behind him.

At this point, Grace didn’t care that he was a stranger. The man had found her unconscious, sought help for her and then gone with her to show the sheriff where a murder had taken place. If he’d been the shooter, he’d have killed her by now and avoided the sheriff altogether.

She slipped onto the seat and held on to the metal rack bolted to the back of the machine, thinking it would be enough to keep her seated.

“You need to hold on around my waist,” Caveman advised. “It’s a lot different being on the back than holding on to the handlebars.”

“I’ll be okay,” she assured him.

Caveman shrugged, started the engine and eased his thumb onto the throttle.

The ATV leapt forward, nearly leaving Grace behind.

She swallowed a yelp, wrapped her arms around his waist and didn’t argue anymore as they traversed the downhill trail to the bottom.

When she’d been the target of the shooter, she hadn’t had time to worry about falling off her sure-footed horse. Now that she wasn’t in control of the ATV and was completely reliant on Caveman, she felt every bump and worried the next would be the one that would throw her over the edge. She tightened her hold around his middle, slightly reassured by the solid muscles beneath his shirt.

For a moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of pure male—a mix of aftershave and raw, outdoor sensuality. It calmed her.

Although she’d always valued her independence, she could appreciate having someone to lean on in this new and dangerous world she lived in. Before, she’d only had to worry about bears and wolves killing her. Now she had to worry about a man diabolical enough to hunt another man down like an animal.

By the time they finally reached the bottom and made their way back to the parked trucks, Grace’s body had adjusted to Caveman’s movements, making them seem like one person—riding the trails, absorbing every bump and leaning into every turn.

When the vehicles came into view, she pulled herself back to the task at hand.

Caveman stopped next to the sheriff’s truck and switched off the ATV’s engine.

Grace climbed off the back, the cool mountain air hitting her front where the heat generated by Caveman still clung to her. Shaking off the feeling of loss, she opened the passenger door of the sheriff’s vehicle, slid onto the front seat, grabbed the radio mic and pressed the button. “Hello.”

“This is dispatch, who am I talking to?”

“Grace Saunders. Sheriff Scott wanted me to relay a request for a mountain rescue team to be deployed to his location as soon as possible.”

“Could you provide a little detail to pass on to the team?” the dispatcher asked.

Grace inhaled and let out a long slow breath before responding. “There’s a man at the bottom of a deep drop-off.”

“Is he unconscious?”

The hollow feeling in her chest intensified. “We believe he’s dead. He’s not moving and he could be the victim of a gunshot wound.”

“Got it. I’ll relay the GPS coordinate and have the team sent out as soon as they can mobilize.”

“Thank you.” Grace hung the mic on the radio and climbed out of the sheriff’s SUV.

“Now what?” Caveman asked. He’d dismounted from the four-wheeler and stepped up beside the sheriff’s vehicle while she’d been talking on the radio.

She shrugged. “If you could take me back to my place, I have work to do.”

Caveman frowned. “When we get there, will you let me take you to the clinic to see a doctor?”

“I don’t need one.” Her head hurt and she was a little nauseated, but she wouldn’t admit it to him. “I’d rather stay home.”

“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll take you home if you promise to let me take you from there to see a doctor.”

She sighed. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Nope.”

“And if I don’t agree, either I walk home—which I don’t mind, but I’m not in the mood—or I wait until the sheriff is done retrieving Mr. Khalig’s body.”

His lips twitched. “That about sums it up. See a doctor, walk home alone or wait for a very long time.” He raised his hands, palms up. “It’s a no-brainer to me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll walk.” She brushed past him and lengthened her stride, knowing she was too emotionally exhausted to make the long trek all the way back to her house, but too stubborn to let Caveman win the argument.

The ATV roared to life behind her and the crunch of gravel heralded its approach.

“You might also consider that by walking home, you put yourself up as an easy target for a man who has proven he can take a man down from a significant distance. Are you willing to be his next target?”

His words socked her in the gut. She stopped in her tracks and her lips pressed together in a hard line.

Damn. The man had a good point. “Fine.” She spun and slipped her leg over the back of the four-wheeler. “You can take me to my house. From there, I’ll take myself to the clinic.”

Caveman shook his head, refusing to engage the engine and send the ATV toward Grace’s house. “That’s not the deal. I take you home. Then I will take you to the clinic. When the doctor clears you to drive, you can take yourself anywhere you want to go.”

“Okay. We’ll do it your way.” She wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, unwilling to be caught up in the pheromones the man put off. “Can we go, already?”

“Now we can go.” He goosed the throttle. The ATV jumped, nearly unseating Grace.

She tightened her hold around Caveman’s waist and pressed her body against his as they bumped along the dirt road with more potholes than she remembered on the way out. Perhaps because she noticed them more this time because she wasn’t the one in control of the steering. Either way, she held on, her thighs tightly clamped around his hips and the seat.

By the time they arrived at her cottage, she could barely breathe—the fact having nothing to do with the actual ride so much as it did with the feel of the man’s body pressed against hers. She was almost disappointed when he brought the vehicle to a standstill next to her gate.

Grace climbed off and opened the gate. The distance between them helped her to get her head on straight and for her pulse to slow down to normal.

He followed her to her house. “We’ll take my truck. Grab your purse and whatever else you’ll need.”

When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up his hand.

“You promised.” He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest again. “Where I come from, a promise is sacred.”

Her brows met in the middle. “Where do you come from?”

His frown disappeared and he grinned. “Montana.”

Caveman started toward the house, Grace fell in step beside him. “Is that where you were before you arrived in Grizzly Pass?”

His grin slipped. “No.”

She shot a glance his direction. A shadow had descended on his face and he appeared to be ten years older.

“Where did you come from?”

He stared out at the mountains. “Bethesda, Maryland.”

There was so much she didn’t know about this man. “That’s a long way from Montana.”

“Yes, it is.” He stopped short of her porch. “I’ll be in my truck when you’re ready.” Before she could say more, he turned and strode toward the corner of her house.

For a moment, Grace allowed herself the pleasure of watching the way his butt twitched in his blue jeans. The man was pure male and so ruggedly handsome he took her breath away. What was he doing hanging around her? Since she was being forced to ride with him to the clinic, she’d drill him with questions until she was satisfied with the answers. For starters, why did he call himself Caveman? And what was the importance of Bethesda, Maryland, that had made him go from being relaxed and helpful to stiff and unapproachable?

Caveman disappeared around the corner.

Grace faced her house, fished her key from her pocket and climbed the stairs. She opened the screen door and held out the key, ready to fit it into the lock when she noticed something hanging on the handle. It rocked back and forth and then fell at her feet.

She jumped back, emitting a short, sharp scream, her heart thundering against her ribs. With her hand pressed to her chest, she squatted and stared at the item, a lead weight settling in the pit of her belly as she recognized the circular band with the rectangular plastic box affixed to it.

It was the radio collar for the wolf she’d been looking for earlier that day, and it was covered in blood.

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