New York Times bestselling author Rachel Lee returns to Conard County with a supercharged romance!

When hunters threaten local Wyoming wildlife, investigator Kel Westin vows to catch the perpetrators. But as he’s sent to work undercover with game warden Desi Jenks, Kel finds himself caught off guard by his need to protect her, too. Something tells him both he and Desi are kept awake at night by pasts that won’t let go.

Desi trusts no one. That includes the sexy former army ranger living in her bunkhouse, posing as a poacher to bait the ring. As a dangerous group gathers in the mountains, she must put her life in Kel’s hands, a move that will change their fragile, growing bond forever...

Opening his eyes, hanging on to his temper, Kel gave her another soft kiss.

“I want to do it again. But like I said, let’s take it slow.”

“Because of me?”

Damn. Was he messing this up? “Because I want it to be perfect and right for both of us. Okay?”

Desi nodded, then let her head fall against his shoulder. Relieved, he snuggled her in, astonished that this self-assured woman had exposed so much vulnerability to him. Vulnerability he had never imagined could be part of a woman who presented such a confident face to the world.

He felt a little shiver run through her, then she softened completely. Staring at nothing, he held her and wondered what he was walking into. What he might be dragging her into.

* * *

Be sure to check out the rest of the

Conard County: The Next Generation series!

Undercover in Conard County

Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

MILLS & BOON

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Dedicated to my daughter,

an urban and regional planner,

who is on the side of preserving nature, too.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Six men sat around a poker table in the back room of an historic hotel somewhere in Wyoming. They were only vaguely aware of its history, but the bullet holes that pockmarked the expansive wood bar out front hinted at it. The place was supposedly haunted, too, but they didn’t care and didn’t believe.

They had business to discuss.

A new outfitter had shown up late last spring, and from what they could tell, he was unlicensed. The men at the table were unlicensed as well, lying to clients from out of state, telling the nonresidents that they could legally hunt under the outfitter’s license. Not true, but they didn’t care.

No, they led the hunts into public lands as far away from possible observation as they could get, wined and dined the hunters to make them feel like big deals, then got them their damn trophies, knowing these guys would leave the state immediately.

Babied them, is what they did, sometimes even setting up the shot and aiming the rifle.

It was good money, all of it carefully laundered out of state.

But now some new guy was horning in, and he could be big trouble. Losing a few trophies to the hunters he guided wasn’t as much of a concern as his lower charges. He could force them all to charge less, especially if he got enough people to work for him.

The bigger concern was that if he screwed up he’d bring a lot more scrutiny to bear and could cause their operations to cut way back until the heat went away. Also, they couldn’t afford to take this fight public by reporting him. Not when they’d spent so long carefully burying themselves below the state’s radar.

The burly guy with the ponytail slapped his cards facedown on the table. “We gotta eliminate him. As in dead.”

The other men nodded. If this interloper had just played nice with them, they might have let him in, but instead he’d started a solo operation. No respect. Dangerous.

“Okay,” said a man whose face was nearly as grooved as the mountainous landscape. “Accidents happen, people disappear out there. Find out where his base is.”

“I’m hearing Conard County,” said the ponytail man. He knew a lot more, but he wasn’t about to share or reveal his sources to anyone. They had to be well protected. But this guy he wanted dead? He wasn’t what he pretended to be, a fact that ponytail kept to himself. Knowledge was power and he had it. The last thing he wanted was for his partners to wet their pants and run.

“Well, hell,” said the man with mountain terrain for a face. “He hasn’t set up shop, that I’ve heard.”

“Just about to,” said ponytail. “And that’s one of our most profitable areas.”

“Yeah,” said one of the other men, his voice gravelly from cigarettes, his face weathered until it looked like a map. “He dies. Just make it look like an accident.”

The ponytailed man nodded and never mentioned that they had a second target: that nuisance of a warden, Desi Jenks. One favor for another. If they guessed that they’d probably all turn into frightened grannies.

Then they went back to playing cards, unaware of all the past times when just such murderous plans had been laid here.

Chapter 1

Senior Game Warden Desiree Jenks, or Desi as she preferred to be known, arrived at the ranch belonging to Jake Madison, just in the foothills of Thunder Mountain in Conard County, Wyoming. She knew what she was going to see. By the sound of things, Jake, who was also the Conard City police chief, was mad enough to shoot someone.

She couldn’t blame him, and yet, it was her job to stay calm and maintain a good relationship with the local people, most especially the ranchers. She relied on them probably more than they guessed. Like this. Only because of Jake would she have ever known about it.

She parked her official truck near the front of the house and climbed out. The early October air had a chilly bite so she pulled on her dark green insulated vest over the long-sleeved red shirt that was part of her uniform—and the reason Wyoming wardens were called “redshirts.”

She retrieved her shotgun out of the rack in the back and loaded a few shells, turning in time to see Jake coming out of the house. A tall, well-built man, he was dressed in his own insulated vest and jeans, and carrying an orange hunting vest.

“Damn it, Desi,” he said as he strode up to her. “This has got to stop. My land is posted. Nobody asked for permission.”

She nodded. “I get it, Jake. And it’s getting worse by the year.” She laid the shotgun down on the seat after making sure the safety was on, and reached for her other equipment.

“No kidding. I suggest we ride if you don’t mind. It’s a distance and pretty bumpy.”

“Fine by me.” She pulled out her orange hunting cap and crammed it on, then hung the strap of her camera around her neck. Next, she tugged out a pack carrying her evidence collection kit and slipped it onto her back. Jake had donned his orange vest. The man ought not to have to worry about such things on his own land, Desi thought. Posting it should have been enough to keep people away, not that it always was. And he had a small child to worry about, even worse. After pulling on her gloves, she followed him across the dry, hard ground of the yard.

Jake had already saddled two horses that waited patiently in the barn. Desi shoved her shotgun into the saddle holster, then mounted the big pinto easily. The ranch hand just outside waved as they passed by, clearly about to climb into a battered pickup.

Riding side by side, they moved quickly. “Did you find it?” she called to Jake.

“Larry did. He came riding back to tell me, so I went out and...well, the air turned kinda blue. Crap, I hate poachers, but my cattle are out there, too. The hunters must have chased that bighorn down the mountain.”

“Maybe.” It was still a little too early for the bighorn to be migrating to much lower altitudes. Later in the month or early next month, as the weather got colder and mating season drove them, they’d come down lower, seeking a safe valley for rutting. But that didn’t fit this place or this time. Yeah, some hunters with dogs might have driven him down. Or maybe he was sick. She’d have to find out.

Twenty minutes later they approached the site of the kill. She could smell it. Must be two days old. Rain the last two nights. No footprints of any kind to help her investigation.

But there was no question about what she saw in the tall yellowed grass. “Damn,” she swore.

“Yeah,” said Jake. “And double damn.”

The remains of a large ram’s body lay headless in the trampled grass. Trophy hunting. God, it sickened Desi. The meat left to rot, which was a crime unto itself, the animal expertly skinned for its pelt...and the carrion eaters had already started their job.

The horses didn’t like the smell, and began to sidle and nicker. Hanging onto her reins, Desi swung down and passed them to Jake. “You take the horses back a way. I need photos and samples.”

The wolves had already been here, along with the hawks and vultures and ravens. Not good about the wolves. Desi hated to see any of them get killed, but if they menaced Jake’s herd, he was going to do exactly that.

Half an hour later, she’d retrieved all the evidence she thought she’d find, including a single bullet. Straightening, she walked over to Jake. “We gotta get it out of here. Wolves found it only recently. Maybe they didn’t catch the scent right off because of the rain. Anyway, they haven’t finished feeding yet, maybe scared off by Larry, but they’re probably watching right now, waiting for a chance to finish it.”

Jake nodded as he passed the reins back to her. “Larry’s bringing the truck out. I guess I can’t take the carcass up the mountains? And it’s no good for anyone to eat now.”

Desi stared at a mess she felt bordered on some kind of desecration. Leaving it here would attract the wolves. Moving the remains...depending on where it was dumped there could be some legal issues. Mess though it was, it was still evidence.

She sighed. “You know you can’t dump the meat, Jake. It’s probably useless at this point, especially since I have tissue samples, but I should take it in for evidence anyway. Nor would burying it keep the wolves away.”

“Got my herd to worry about.”

“I know. Help me get it into the back of my truck. I’ll cart it to an evidence freezer, not that I expect we’ll locate whoever did this. But we can’t leave it here.”

“Guess we’re going to be keeping a sharp eye out the next few days.”

Desi just shook her head, her stomach roiling with anger. “It stinks, Jake. I can’t tell you how mad this poaching makes me. Bad enough in the mountains, but worse on private property. So I guess I need to go back for my truck.”

“Larry’s coming. He’s taking the longer way around. I knew I was going to have to do something about this one way or another. I don’t want any wolves eyeing my herd.”

“No, you don’t,” she agreed. Then she offered some casual conversation, seeking a way to avoid erupting. “How’s Nora?” His wife.

“The doc says she still has a month to six weeks, but if you ask me, that woman is about to pop.”

Desi managed a laugh. “She must be miserable.”

“She’s getting there. The nursery’s all ready, James seems to understand he’s about to have a baby sister, and Nora...well, she’s at the point where I have to stop her from moving the furniture. Nesting, one of her friends calls it, but would you believe I caught her trying to move a sofa bed? Must weigh damn near two hundred pounds.”

“Um...wow.”

Jake chuckled, though he didn’t appear at all happy at the moment. “Yeah. An understated version of my reaction.”

Fifteen minutes later, she heard the unmistakable approach of a truck. Turning, she saw Larry in the battered red pickup jolting his way over uneven ground. Between the three of them, it didn’t take long to get the remains wrapped in the plastic Larry had brought along, and soon Jake was dousing the bloody ground with gallons of vinegar from the back of Larry’s truck.

She rode the pinto back to her truck, taking her time because she’d have to wait for Larry. Jake stayed behind because he was concerned about where his fence had been broken, allowing this ram to get through.

No point calling anyone, she thought as she rode. Even if this hunter had a valid permit, he’d have to keep at least the horns attached to the skullcap to prove what he’d killed. No, this guy wasn’t going to tell anyone around here about the kill, especially when he’d wasted the meat. Permit or no, the sheep had been killed on posted land, making it poaching. No truly legit hunter would do that. Legally, however, the hunter had fifteen days to report the kill. Two down and counting. She wasn’t holding her breath.

She had to remain calm and collected. It was her job. Much as the anger churned in her stomach, she had to keep her head clear. It wasn’t always easy. She’d been businesslike with Jake because she had to be, but she shared his fury.

This was happening too often. In her five years at this station, she’d seen the increase, and she had little doubt that the trophy hunters were coming from outside the state.

Yeah, locals poached. It happened often enough, but the main difference was, while they might exceed the limits of their licenses, or even hunt without one, they kept the meat. They wanted the meat.

Trophy hunters were something else altogether. A big, beautiful ram had been killed just so some idiot could put its head on a wall and its skin on the floor. Wasting the meat was against the law, too, so even if this jerk was licensed to take that ram, he’d committed a crime.

Not to mention the little bit of trespass that was involved. Now Jake would have to spend days looking for where they’d broken through his fence, while guarding his herd from wolves who might now think they could find easy pickings there. Bad for Jake. Bad for the wolves. Bad for the whole darn ecosystem.

Desi enjoyed a lot about her job. She loved keeping an eye on the migratory animals, making sure they were able to trek and that they were healthy. She loved everything about protecting the wildlife around here, even when it meant giving someone a hard time for fishing without a license, or exceeding the catch limit. And she loved it when she caught a poacher.

But this...these guys weren’t going to be easy to catch. They came and went like ghosts, clearing out as soon as they had their trophy. They didn’t hang around waiting for a neighbor to become suspicious or someone to catch sight of what they were doing and call the wardens. Nope. Ghosts.

* * *

As she drove through town on her way back, she waved to people she recognized, and pulled over once to share a few words with Julie Archer, who kept wanting her to join “the gals” for lunch. Except Desi’s job didn’t often leave a lot of regular time for socializing. She liked the group of women, though, and kept telling herself she was going to make time for lunch with them some weekend. After hunting season.

When she got back to the office, the closed sign still hung in the window. That didn’t surprise her. Five wardens worked out of this station, covering thousands of square miles. Most of them only checked in by phone except when there was a big meeting or they needed to coordinate on something.

Being senior warden, she was based here.

The two-story office was on the edge of town, just a small distance from a quiet neighborhood. They kept it up pretty well so it looked good, all stained wood with sturdy shutters for the windows. Her living quarters were upstairs, a leftover from days long gone. It also had a small dirt and gravel parking lot, and a blue truck with a shell was waiting there as she pulled in.

Seeing the truck, she pulled up near it instead of driving around back to the shed with the evidence lockers.

Curiosity punched her anger down a little bit, then when the guy immediately climbed out, her anger deserted her completely. An instant attraction hit her as if by magic.

He wore a plain blue shirt under a blue quilted vest, tight jeans. Every inch of him bespoke a fit, well-muscled body. As he walked toward her on hiking boots, she felt another burst of attraction. He moved easily and his dress spoke woodsman, not cowboy. Ah, cut it out, she told herself. No time for this. She had a problem to deal with.

She climbed out to face him and got another surprise when she realized how tall he was, and she wasn’t short herself. Smiling gray eyes set in a square face looked at her from beneath a camouflage ball cap.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“You must be Warden Jenks.”

“Yes, sir.”

He offered his hand. “Kel Westin, WIU.”

Wildlife Investigative Unit? Surprised, she shook his hand, feeling an electric jolt at the contact, and summoned a smile. “Come on inside.”

“Thanks.”

As he followed her inside, Desi wondered if something had gone wrong. What was he investigating? Her? One of her wardens? But no, they didn’t investigate that stuff, did they? Her heart rate picked up a little bit. Whatever this was about, it wasn’t casual.

“Coffee?” she asked. She sure wanted some.

“Thanks. It’s been a long day. And you look like you’ve had one, too.”

“Poachers,” she said succinctly as she readied the pot to brew. “Worse, trophy hunters.”

“Would you believe that’s exactly why I’m here?”

She hit the start button on the coffeepot and faced him. He looked to be in his late thirties, eyes the color of a storm-heavy sky, his skin pleasantly weathered by the elements. A lean face. “ID?” she asked. If this was going any further, she had to be sure she wasn’t talking to her poacher.

Without comment, he reached into his hip pocket and slipped out a leather case. Flipping it open, he showed his badge and photo ID.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem. Thing is, I’d like it if you’d keep that under your hat. Don’t even tell your other wardens.”

Her attention sharpened even more. “Why?”

“Because I’m here to investigate the poaching and I’m going to do it undercover by starting my own outfitting business. The less people know, the better.”

“Hallelujah,” she said quietly, and finally pulled out her chair to sit at her desk. “I didn’t think anyone was listening.”

“Oh, we’ve been listening. It’s just this isn’t the only place where this is happening and we’ve got limited manpower. Thing is, we just recently got intelligence that all this trophy hunting might be linked to a single very active ring. But we need evidence, so here I am.”

She thought about what he’d just said and felt her heart quicken. A ring? It suggested huge problems. She came out of her thoughts about how big this could be with a start as she heard the coffee finish brewing.

“Grab a chair,” she said, pivoting her own to reach for two mugs on the counter behind her and pour them full of coffee. She passed him one. “Let’s talk about today, then you tell me what you need.”

He picked up the mug and drank deeply, then rose immediately to refill it. At least he didn’t ask her to. She was a little prickly about her gender because women were so rare in the service, and some of the men didn’t hold them in very high regard. But she supposed that wasn’t fair. Most of the trouble she got about her gender came from miscreants she was about to cite. Men who said things like, “They let women have guns, too?”

Then Kel Westin sat across from her again. “So, about today?”

* * *

Kel waited patiently for her to speak. Her reputation had preceded her. She was young for a senior warden, which spoke highly of her skills and service. But he hadn’t expected blue eyes and curly dark hair like a tousled nimbus around her head, or the curves he could see when she pulled off her insulated vest and tossed it onto another chair. Her red shirt was beginning to show some wrinkles from a long day.

“Today,” she repeated, standing to pull off her utility belt and place her gun in a locker. “A local rancher, who’s also the city police chief, found a bighorn sheep decapitated and skinned on his property. Looked to be around two days old, maybe a little less because the wolves hadn’t finished it. Anyway, his property is fenced and posted, so the poacher must have broken down part of his fence as well. The meat was wasted.”

“Damn,” Kel said, watching her as she paced to the window and back, discovering that it was suddenly easier to think about how attractive she was. He shook his head and stared down into his coffee. “What do you think brought the sheep down from the mountains?”

“They might have used dogs. Or maybe the animal was sick. I have samples to send to the lab and a carcass in my truck that I need to get into an evidence freezer, but in the meantime...” She put her camera on her desk and turned it around so he could see the screen. With a punch of the button, a slideshow started. “Have a look. Too bad it rained the last two nights.”

“Maybe that’s all that kept the wolves from scenting it sooner.”

She nodded, then settled onto her chair again. “I hate to think of that sheep being driven down the mountain like that. Terrified by bush beaters or dogs...it doesn’t matter. Out of his element, on the run, all so somebody could decorate his wall.” She slapped her palm on the desk. “We only issued twenty-two permits in this area for bighorns this year. We don’t have a big enough population to sustain this kind of hunting.”

That was the struggle for which Wyoming Game and Fish had been created. Back in the 1880s, Wyoming’s streams had become sterile of edible fish. So fisheries were their first step. Then in 1921 Game and Fish had been created and in 1929 had been given the power to limit the harvesting of game and fish both. Since then healthy populations had rebounded, but it was a never-ending battle.

Desi Jenks was right: they couldn’t afford this poaching. Not of bighorns. Some other populations were large enough to withstand some of it, like antelope, but the bighorn? There was a reason they’d permitted only twenty-two to be harvested this year in her area, and that was a larger number than in some areas that were being poached.

“No clues, I suppose?” he finally asked as he scanned her photos of the scene.

“I wish. I pulled another bullet but you know they’re useless without a gun to match them to. Standard round for a thirty-thirty hunting rifle, and you wouldn’t want too big a hole in your sheepskin rug.”

“The skinning was expert,” he remarked. “The decap appears to have been done by some kind of butcher’s saw.” He sat back. “They didn’t want to damage the skin or head. To hell with the rest.”

She nodded and picked up her own coffee, leaning back in her chair. “Experienced.”

“Yeah.” He tried to ignore the loveliness of the woman who sat across from him, just a normal male response that should be ignored, focusing instead on what this piece added to the puzzle. Not much, he decided. It was more of the same.

“What about you?” she asked.

“I’m going into competition with them. See if I can draw them out by threatening their cash stream.”

She frowned. “That could be dangerous.”

“It could, but we’re getting nowhere otherwise. They pop up under different names every season. New phone number every week, then no phone number once they’ve got enough customers. All payments made by cash. Absolutely nothing we’ve been able to trace, including their internet postings. In fact, all that stuff has started diminishing and we suspect they’re getting most of their business by word-of-mouth now. And you know darn well that with only limited bighorn ram permits, they’re not in the market for a permit. They couldn’t promise anyone that they’d get one at the drawing. Same for other big game.”

“And it’s all going out of state?”

“Of course it is. First off, a resident permit isn’t that expensive, even if it’s hard to get one for big game through the drawing. Nonresident permits run in the thousands. Then you’ve got the problem of where you’re going to display that trophy. Desi, you know people around here. How many of them wouldn’t mention the sudden appearance of a trophy head to you?”

She smiled faintly. “A few. There are a few everywhere. But someone, eventually, would run it by me. I have pretty good contacts around here, and despite what some people may think, most of the ranchers have a great respect for the land and the wildlife.”

“Unless it’s wolves,” he said.

She laughed. “Unless it’s wolves,” she agreed. “Unfortunately.”

“I hear you got some here?”

“A pack of maybe seven up on Thunder Mountain. So far there’s been a détente going on, but today...” She shook her head. “Fresh kill on Jake’s ranch. He’ll mend his fence as soon as he finds out where it was damaged, probably by the bighorn on the run...but then he’s got to keep an eye out. Right now his place may be looking like a wolf smorgasbord.”

“I could go out and give him a hand.”

She arched her brows at him. “What was that about undercover?”

“I’ll go out as an outfitter trying to get the lay of the land. I’ll just say I thought I could lend a hand while I learn the area.”

She shook her head, and he realized he wasn’t going to run this show singlehandedly. Oh, well. She knew the area and he had only one purpose: to gather intelligence on a ring of poachers. She spoke. “Jake’s the chief of police. I told you. He’s not stupid. That’ll smell and he won’t like it. One word of advice to you, Kel. Tell Jake what you’re really doing. He might be helpful and he sure knows how to keep a secret.” She paused. “He also knows Thunder Mountain as well as I do.”

“I’ll think about it.”

But then she questioned him again. “Isn’t it a little late to start your masquerade? The season’s already underway for a week now.”

“I’m not doing this solo.” He saw her stiffen, and guessed she was wondering if she was going to be totally shoved to the side in this operation. He hastened to reassure her. “I’m solo out here,” he offered quickly. “But the unit has been making postings for me on the web and social media since late last spring. In the meantime, once the snow was gone, I’ve been hiking all over the terrain to familiarize myself. Anyway, word about me has been out there, just not where I was going to set myself up. A few shills have already indicated their interest in a hunt publicly, so once I surface, I’ll appear to have business already.”

She nodded, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk. “What about others who call?”

He half smiled. “Well, now that’s interesting. We sound them out, mentioning they have to have their own license because they can’t hunt under mine, and they usually bail pretty quickly. Then we try like hell to find out where they go next. We’re coordinating with other states, but so far none of these calls have been productive. Apparently, the mere question about licensing makes them too cautious to continue. Two birds, one stone.”

She clearly appreciated that. “But some won’t care if it’s illegal.”

He nodded. “Of course not. But if they’re calling me, they obviously don’t know about this ring yet. If we find that they’ve contacted someone else, we can probably persuade the hunter to deal with us rather than face charges. But the ring is getting hard to find unless you have some kind of contact. Plus, we need evidence for court. Hearsay ain’t gonna do it.”

He stood. “Now, don’t you have a carcass to get out of your truck?” From the photos she’d showed him, he’d guess there were well over a hundred pounds left of a nearly three-hundred-pound sheep.

“Yeah. Help appreciated. I’ll roll around back to the freezer building.”

* * *

Behind the front offices in a steel building about fifty yards away were a series of chest freezers, all of them with serious padlocks. In them they kept evidence until a case was completed, whether dressed meat or an entire carcass. Desi tagged the bighorn in its plastic wrapping, then Kel helped her lift it into the building and put it in an empty freezer. Desi slapped a note on top of it, making it clear this meat was unsafe to eat. From time to time during the year, the wardens donated any good meat they no longer needed as evidence to a soup kitchen, or a church or even to individuals living on the edge who could use it well.

Not everything was wasted, Desi thought with satisfaction as she locked up the freezer shed. Not nearly.

“I guess we shouldn’t hang much,” Desi remarked as they walked back to the station. For some reason that disappointed her. She wanted to be part of his operation, was thirsty for it, but she was also kind of thirsty for the man himself. No good. “You being undercover and all.”

“Hey, wouldn’t I cozy up to the local wardens? Try to seem innocuous?”

“Brown nose?” She looked at him and laughed. “I’m not very susceptible, Kel.”

“Didn’t think you were,” he answered in good humor, “but that’s what people can think and I’ll hurry that notion along when I can.”

She stepped inside and faced him. “Why?”

He grew instantly serious. “Because I’m going to need your help, Warden. I can’t possibly do this alone. So I cozy up to you, make it look like I’m trying to get on your good side, maybe romance you a bit, and no one will even guess what I’m really here to do.”

She felt an unexpected sense of displeasure that he could so casually offer to romance her as part of his cover. Shaking her head at herself, she quashed the feeling. “Just don’t take it too far,” she said. “I’m not known for dating around here.”

He nodded, accepting the warning. Sometimes, things happened at exactly the wrong time. Well, this was wrong for more reasons than timing. She couldn’t let herself want this guy. That kind of stuff could only get in the way.

But she felt a little slammed by her reaction. Not in years had she reacted so strongly to a guy just because of how he looked. Right now she didn’t know anything about Kel, so who needed this reaction? He might turn out to be a jackass.

She could have laughed at herself if this situation weren’t in danger of affecting her peace of mind. But there was one good thing she could say about it: instant sexual attraction had taken her mind off that bighorn.

But now she needed to come back to earth and set about reporting the kill. While Kel got himself some coffee, she pulled her notebook out of the pocket in her vest and flipped it open. Her sample case was still in the truck, and she’d have to package that up in a cooler to send to forensics.

In the meanwhile...paperwork. On the computer.

As she called up the forms, Kel spoke again.

“Desi? You take this all very personally, don’t you?”

She looked at him, wondering if that was a compliment or an insult. It could be either. After all, he was a man.

He sat across from her. “Good for you for taking it personally. Some get so used to it they forget. But the word warden has an honorable history. It means protector, caretaker, guardian.”

She felt a crooked smile forming on her face. “I got the same training you did, Kel.”

At that he laughed. “Of course you knew that. I’m just trying to say, I’m glad you take this stuff personally. I’ve met a few who don’t. Just another job to them. They don’t do it very well.”

She guessed it must have been written all over her face how she was taking it when she pulled in. She didn’t remember having said much about it except the basic facts.

Her phone rang and she reached for it. “Hey, Lex, what’s up?” She listened. “I’m on my way.”

When she hung up, she rose. “I’m outta here, and I guess you should leave, too, to preserve your cover.”

“What’s up?”

“An antelope didn’t quite make it over a barbed wire fence. I guess this day’s going to end on a really sour note.”

* * *

Kel stood in the parking lot and watched her get into her truck. Cute bottom, he thought, then yanked his mind back into line. No messing with a colleague, he reminded himself.

He had plenty to do anyway. He already knew the terrain around here, although he hadn’t introduced himself to Desi before. He’d spent all summer hiking around those mountains until he could talk about them like he knew them intimately. He’d studied the migratory maps, as well, and figured that if he ever needed to he could lead someone to a good hunting spot for big game.

But those were the routes he had to keep an eye on if he was going to pretend to be a guide, and more important, catch anyone in the act. So it wouldn’t seem at all strange for him to be hiking around.

But he was going to seriously annoy any illegal outfitters. He’d known that when he volunteered, but he was no stranger to threats. In the meantime, while he waited for his hook to set itself, he could do plenty of hiking in those mountains.

He was looking forward to that. He just kind of wished he could do it under better circumstances, and maybe with Desi. She probably mapped a lot of those migrations, probably counted the herds assiduously and judged their health.

It was by going up into those mountains that she’d found most of the trophy kills she had reported. She’d make a great right-hand man if they could work it out.

In the meantime, he knew those bighorn were unlikely to come down to below five thousand feet at this time of year. Most would probably be up closer to eight thousand. So what the hell was that sheep doing on a ranch?

* * *

Driving the ten miles to Alex Thornton’s place, Desi prepared for the worst and tried not to think about Kel Westin. Her immediate female reaction to him almost soured her. She’d put that aside when she’d decided to live without men and there was no place for it on the job.

She was also worried about this plan of his. They clearly had an active poaching operation in this area. The better the herds thrived, the more big game she found had been killed for trophies. Apparently, her mapped migration corridors were providing plenty of opportunities for the poachers. Enough to sicken her.

At the same time, she understood hunting. She had no problem with the people who wanted meat to get them through the winter. If they were hunting for food, fine. Some culling of the herds was necessary, hence the harvest limits the service worked up every year.

If she hadn’t been dealing with these issues for years, she’d have been overwhelmed by the system.

Now there was Kel, a big question mark. His credentials were valid, but this whole idea sounded dangerous to her. Men who were willing to risk huge fines, forfeiting their guns and their right to hunt, all to make a little money by taking a trophy? And now such a crime was a felony, so prison, not just a slap on the wrist and a fine. Men like that might be willing to kill anyone who appeared to get in the way of their money stream.

She just had to trust WIU knew what they were doing. She couldn’t deny that putting a halt to this trophy hunting was a good thing. And sure as she was sitting here in her truck, she was willing to bet no one showed up in the next thirteen days with horns attached to the skull plate of that sheep. Or even just the horns. Nope. Not when they’d left everything behind but the skin.

Lex Thornton was waiting for her in a turnout beside his fence line along the county road. As she pulled up, she could see he’d cut the top of the barbed wire. Maybe a hundred feet away, an antelope hunkered down.

“Got her loose, Desi,” Lex said as she climbed out of her truck. “Think her hind leg is broken from fighting against the wire. Cut all the way to the bone, she is.”

This was the worst part of the job for Desi. She never got used to it. She pulled out her rifle and loaded a few bullets. Alex didn’t say another thing, just swung open a ramshackle gate and let her through.

He was probably right about the broken leg, or that antelope wouldn’t still be here.

When they got closer, she could see the mess of the antelope’s back leg.

“They usually get over,” Lex said.

“I know. How many dozens have we had to chase off your grazing land?”

“A few. Elk, too.”

The antelope tried to pull itself through the grass as they approached. Then it shoved itself up on three legs, no weight on the fourth. It didn’t get very far before collapsing again.

“She’s worn out,” Desi said. God, she hated this. That animal could not survive, however, and leaving it to suffer was the worst option. It had to be in pain and terrified, and as it became weaker and less able to move, it might be tormented by hawks and other predators. No.

So she raised her rifle and did what was necessary.

She turned to Lex, keeping her expression businesslike. Knowing it had been necessary didn’t make it easy, though. “You want the meat?”

“Always.”

She nodded. “I’ll fill out the forms and give you what you need.”

Lex stood looking at the antelope for a few seconds. “Damn shame,” he said finally, then turned to follow her back to her truck. “Thanks for coming so fast, Desi. I have no idea how long she’d been stuck in that wire, but when I cut her loose...well, it was too long I guess.”

After Desi filled out the paperwork and gave him the slip that granted him legal ownership of the meat, she headed back toward town, thinking that some days being a warden was absolutely no fun at all. Days like today, it sometimes got hard to remember why she’d wanted to do this job.

But there were much better days, she reminded herself. Lots of them. And now there was Kel Westin who, one way or another, was going to provide a change of pace. They needed to talk more, she decided. Somehow they were going to have to coordinate. And he had said he’d need her assistance.

Ah, cut it out. Her thoughts were running along the lines of a smitten kid. By now she should have outgrown it. But the simple fact was, it was easier to think about Kel than about the rest of her day. Maybe too easy.

Chapter 2

Three days later, just after dark, Desi returned to the station exhausted. She threw her paperwork and citation book on the desk in the office, locked up her pistol, then sagged in exhaustion. Paperwork could wait, she decided. There was enough in her summons book and other notes for now.

She climbed her outside stairs to her apartment over the station. Nothing grandiose about it. Once upon a time it had been a bunkhouse for wardens, but as wardens settled in this area and bought homes and raised families, it had become a leftover from another era. So part of it had been transformed into an efficiency apartment. The rest...well, it was still kind of a bunkhouse, but one with only two mattresses on cots. Once in a while, one of her fellow wardens would camp out there for a night. At least they’d given the apartment its own bathroom.

She hopped into the shower, cleaning the day off herself, then dressed in jeans and a green sweater. If she got called out for any reason, she was halfway ready to go.

There was no time of year when her life was totally quiet, but things heated up during hunting season. All kinds of people out there, even with licenses and permits, still shaded their way around the law. Easy enough, usually, when they were blending in with so many other hunters.

Three long days, she thought, but at least no blatant trophy kills. Hunting season seemed to bring the not-entirely-lawful out of the woodwork, apparently thinking they’d pass unnoticed when hunters were everywhere.

Uh, no, she thought as she toweled her hair a little more then headed for her kitchenette. It got to be ridiculous sometimes. She’d had to escort four hunters off posted property. She’d come up on more than one group where people were firing from the road. In those cases, when they killed game, she not only had to cite them for the infraction, she had to recover the carcass. Lots of heavy work, not always aided by hunters who were angry with her because they had to pay a fine and had lost the meat, license or no license.

A tip had kept her out later last night, and sure enough, after hunting hours closed for the night, two hunters were busy ignoring the time. At least they hadn’t gotten nasty about it.

On the other hand, she’d talked to a lot of nice folks, some of whom she knew. And Jos Webber, another warden assigned to this area, had agreed they ought to team up even if it expanded their usual patrol areas. Something about this hunting season seemed off and she and Jos agreed a little extra caution wouldn’t hurt.

The phone rang while she was reheating some leftover stew, and she answered it. “Game and Fish, Warden Jenks here.”

“Hey, Desi,” said the familiar voice of Craig Stone. He was a lawman and biologist for the US Forest Service, and sometimes their jobs overlapped. “I hear you lost a bighorn.”

“That’s putting it mildly, Craig. Have you been seeing any poaching?” His forest abutted her area, and reached further back into some of the mountains.

“Not yet. We decided to close ourselves to hunting this year, though. You must have gotten the memo.”

“Yeah. And all I could think was, great, it’s going to be my problem.”

Craig laughed. “Look at it this way. We find any hunters on our land, they’ll go immediately to jail. Maybe that’ll help you.”

“Jail for how long?” she snorted. “Trespass doesn’t put anyone away for long.”

He didn’t laugh this time. “I know. And I know how thinly spread you all are. So basically I’m saying, if you need help, call. I realize I can’t legally do much on your land, but I can help.”

“Thanks, Craig. It’s appreciated.” Then she thought of Kel. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” As soon as she said it, she winced. She was supposed to be protecting the guy’s cover, not bandying it about.

“Sure. When?”

“I’ll let you know.” And maybe that would get her off the hook. She could just let it drop. She asked after his wife, Sky, and their toddler, then said good-night to Craig, realizing this day had managed to sap her. She’d barely eaten, she was tired and she probably wasn’t at her best mentally, to judge by her slipup just now.

“Food,” she said aloud. “Then rest.” With the phone right beside her head. Such a glamorous job.

A laugh escaped her as she began to scoop hot stew from the pot into a bowl. Really, all she had to do was remind herself of springtime, when she’d be out looking for newborns in the wild populations, when she’d be counting herds and checking to make sure nothing impeded their necessary migrations.

And after that was summertime when the biggest problem she usually dealt with was fishermen who were either unlicensed or who took more than their catch limit. That was rare enough around here because there weren’t a lot of good fishing holes. But there were a few. Conard City hadn’t been built without an eye to a nearby water source. And of course, there was always some game poaching going on.

She sat with her feet up on a battered coffee table, trying to decide if she wanted to watch television or just enjoy the peace and quiet when there was a knock on her door.

Aw, man, she thought, putting her hot stew aside and going to answer it. There, in the dark of early autumn, stood Kel Westin.

She blinked at him as he said, “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “This is hardly undercover.”

“No one saw me. No one who matters anyway. I walked and you’re a little outside town.”

“A little.” Slowly she stepped back. “Well, I guess you’re more interesting than TV. Come in.”

He grinned. “Better than TV? I don’t know whether that’s a compliment or not.”

“Keep wondering,” she retorted as she closed the door behind him. “Want me to heat you some stew? I was just about to eat.”

“I ate at the diner. Go ahead and dig in.”

So she returned to the battered sofa and picked up her bowl and spoon. She watched as he wandered around familiarizing himself with the layout.

Something about the way he was looking, moving...she’d seen it before. “Military background?” she asked.

He faced her, hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Rangers.”

“It shows. When you’ve got the place memorized, have a seat.”

He looked almost rueful. “That obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s seen it other times. We have a lot of vets in this county, a lot of special-ops types. So yeah, I know how they get the lay of the land.”

So she waited while he finished scoping the place. He probably wouldn’t be comfortable until he knew the exits and windows, and whatever else might concern him. But eventually he sat in the armchair across from her.

“To what do I owe this honor?” she prodded.

“We really didn’t get a chance to talk before you got called out.”

She arched a brow, spoonful of stew halfway to her mouth. “There’s more?”

He half smiled. “Isn’t there always? You know the guys with the forest service?”

“Most of them.”

“They’re working with us.”

She nodded slowly. “So that’s why Craig Stone called to remind me they were closing to hunting.”

“The state public land abuts the forest. But you know that. Anyway, we’re hoping by closing that area, we can create a bit of a funnel effect. Nobody wants their hunt blown up on a trespassing charge.”

“Of course not.” She forgot her dinner. “Do you have any idea how much difficulty those rangers have patrolling the forest service land? Talk about porous. Barring hunting there is going to make about as much difference as no poaching is making.”

He shook his head a little. “You know you have to have road access on all public lands. No off-roading. Craig said they even shut down their ATV trails two years ago. Anyway, since you can’t drive willy-nilly over open ground and have to stick with the roads, then you’ve got to ask yourself how far a trek can you manage to get your trophy out of there. Craig’s got enough manpower to close the forestry roads over there. Anybody coming that way with hunting gear is heading for trouble. So they gotta stay on the state land and the public access roads.”

She thought it over as her stomach rumbled and reminded her that she needed to eat. She picked up her bowl again. “I could use a hundred more people at least.”

“Sorry, we don’t have them.”

“I know.” Far too few wardens for the land area they needed to cover. And when you got up into those mountains, it wasn’t like there were houses scattered around with people who were willing to call and complain about suspected poaching. There was nothing up there except a couple of park service shacks, and most of them would be closed for the winter.

She glanced at Kel again, liking the lean toughness of his face. Liking his lead-gray eyes. Ah well. Finally she acknowledged there was only one way to go at this, much as she didn’t like it. “Your idea is probably the best.”

“To get the outfitters ring? Yeah. Won’t stop any other poaching, though.”

“I know, but since we can’t staple a warden to every animal or herd, let’s get the most egregious offenders. I can’t tell you how angry it makes me, Kel. Furious to think that people are profiting this way off these animals. Poach to feed your family? I get that. But these guys, dangling bait in the water and charging lots of money for guiding someone who only wants a trophy and doesn’t care if it’s illegal? There’s something about that...”

She trailed off and tried to continue eating. She couldn’t really explain the difference in so many words.

“I get what you’re saying,” he said while she ate some more stew. “It’s in no way excusable. Charging thousands to bring in people from out of state and lead them illegally to an animal when all they want is a trophy? I can understand the hunters better than I can understand the outfitters.”

“I can’t,” she admitted after she swallowed. “I hate trophy hunting above all. The guys helping are after the money. Greed is a motivator for a lot of people. But the hunters? All they want is bragging rights hanging on their walls.”

He nodded. “And we’ve got a little quirk in Wyoming law that hinders us finding these guys.”

She swallowed some more stew and looked at him. “You mean that anyone can guide two other licensed people with him on a hunt as long as he doesn’t get paid? Yeah. Hard to prove the no pay part.”

“Regardless, the licensed professional outfitters are working with us. They’re no more happy about the poaching than we are.”

“Cuts into their business?”

He nodded. “When the illicit guys offer the hunts for a lower price because they’re not licensed and because their clients don’t have to get through a drawing to get one and pay for it...they have an advantage, moneywise. Plus, they’re reducing the number of trophy animals available. The pros are out there all year scouting.”

“No kidding.” She finished her stew and carried her bowl to the sink to rinse it out. Then she got them both some fresh coffee. “I run into some of the nearer outfitters when I’m out tracking the herds. I have to admit, they help by sharing information.”

He looked at her over his mug. “But you don’t like them.”

She flushed faintly. “I don’t dislike them, but I was raised to hunt for myself. My dad went out every year to bring home venison for the family larder, usually with a buddy or two because packing that animal out required more than one pair of shoulders. But it wasn’t the clambake method with a bunch of guides, cooks, tents, horses...”

“I get it,” he said when she trailed off. “You don’t like lazy hunting.”

“It’s not really sporting, to my way of thinking. What animal stands a chance when it’s been tracked by spotters for months, when there are people there to find it again, help the hunter aim his rifle and take his shot? And the outfitters aren’t supplying hunts to those who need the meat to eat. But...they exist, they’re legal, and my personal opinion can’t matter.”

“I hear you,” he said. “But the law allows it, so...”

“And as long as the hunters have the right permits and don’t break the law, I can’t really complain about their methods, can I? At least baiting big game is illegal.”

He rose from the chair and paced her small apartment slowly. “You’re interesting, Desi. I’m guessing you became a warden for the protection part.”

“Meaning?”

He halted and faced her. “You want to save the wildlife.”

“Absolutely. But I also understand the importance of harvesting. As long as we manage it so the populations don’t shrink, or don’t get so large they’re starving, I have no problems with the system.”

He laughed quietly. “Do you hunt yourself?”

“Only poachers.” But then she joined his laughter. “I don’t have time during hunting season, Kel. I’d need to take time off, and there just aren’t enough of us.”

The phone rang, and she gave thanks that she’d at least had time to eat. “Warden Jenks.”

“Jim Cashford,” said a voice she knew well. “Desi, there’s a fire and some lights up on the mountain near the old Cranbrook road.”

“I’ll look into it.”

When she hung up, she found Kel already pulling on his vest. “You think you’re going?”

“Hey, I’m your new best friend. What’s going on?”

“A fire, which is illegal, and lights bright enough to be seen from Jim Cashford’s ranch.”

Downstairs she got on the radio and raised another warden. “I need backup,” she told Jos Webber. “Fire and lights near old Cranbrook Road.”

“On my way,” came his crackling answer.

She picked up her satellite phone, slipped on an armored vest and donned her olive-green jacket over her sweater. No red shirt tonight. Just a lot of protection.

“You got any armor?” she asked Kel.

“Not with me.”

She hesitated, then went to a locker and tossed him a vest. “Mind yourself now,” she said. “Or stay here.”

He didn’t stay behind.

* * *

Kel was amused. Desi was quite an interesting character. She didn’t approve of sport hunting, but accepted that some of it was allowed by law, and could even summon a good reason or two, like the herds needed to be harvested to a reasonable extent, and the outfitters offered her information from their scouting trips. She liked eating game but didn’t have time to hunt.

And she told him to mind himself. As if he wouldn’t know how. He’d been an army Ranger before he’d come to this job, and had walked into a lot more dangerous situations than this. Which was not to say a warden couldn’t get shot, but it didn’t happen that often. Though people might cuss them when they got a citation or lost their hunting privileges, they weren’t inclined to murder. But it was still dangerous. Careless hunters were always dangerous.

They drove through the night toward the mountain. He already knew Cranbrook Road. It was hardly more than a cart track that was occasionally graded mainly because it provided access to the state lands hunters and fishermen wanted to get to. By keeping Cranbrook basically functional, it reduced the likelihood that hunters would travel over posted private property to go hunting.

He watched her drive with calm competence over back roads she probably knew as well as her own hand and sensed the distance in her. He wondered if he had put her that much on guard, or if the job had. She could laugh and smile, but she avoided getting personal about anything except being a warden. And she hadn’t even questioned him about his background. Pure business.

He wondered if those walls ever fell. She was appealing, and he’d really like to get to know what lay behind the warden’s facade. She couldn’t possibly be nothing but a warden. People had lives, had problems, had hopes and dreams. But Desi...always back to business.

He admitted he’d been guilty of some of that himself for a long time. When you lost buddies, you stopped making close friends. War had carved something out of him.

But what had carved Desi? Something sure had.

He forced his attention back to the job at hand. The darkness of the night was consuming. No stars, no moon. No wonder that rancher had seen the lights and fire on the side of the mountain. There was no light anywhere else.

He caught a glimpse of it as they climbed in the truck, but only a glimpse. It was a camp, not a city, and vanished in the trees almost as soon as he saw it.

“Any idea where it is?” he asked.

“Some, but I hope you’re ready to hike. You can stay with the vehicle if you want. Jos is coming to back me up.”

“I’m not staying with the car,” he said firmly. No way was he going to stand back when there might be danger.

“What do you want me to tell Jos about you?”

“That I insisted on coming, that I just got out of the Rangers.”

“I don’t like lying to my fellow wardens.”

No real surprise there. Not only did they have to work together, but they had to trust each other. He sighed. “Can they keep secrets?”

“As far as I know.”

“Then I guess I can let them all know what I’m here for. Might as well. There’s just so far undercover I can go, I guess.”

“You might need backup,” she pointed out. “You can’t run a one-man operation. If these guys come after you...” She paused. “You know, interfering with one of their hunts might be the most dangerous thing you can do. If you come across one, you’re going to need backup.”

“Maybe so. But if coming across one of their hunts were likely, you and your wardens would have already done it. No, I need to draw them out. So I ask again, do you trust all your wardens?”

This time she didn’t answer as they jolted their way up the track. When she finally pulled over onto a small patch of flat, open ground and turned off her engine, she finally spoke. “You’re a friend of mine, you just got out of the army and came to visit. End of story.”

“Fair enough.”

“And I guess that means you ought to move into the bunkhouse.” Then she slipped out of the truck and opened the crew door to pull out her rifle. Because tonight was potentially dangerous. He didn’t need a map to know that.

“How are we going to put out the fire?” he asked.

She passed him a shovel and a jerry can full of water from the bed of the truck. “The usual way.”

He could have laughed. He put the can down beside his feet and leaned on the shovel. Before long he heard another truck approaching. It turned off its headlights before it reached them.

Soon a young game warden joined them and was introduced to him as Jos Webber. He almost looked wet behind the ears, but his bearing pegged him as confident and experienced.

“Kel Westin,” Desi said as she introduced him. “Old friend. He just got out of the army rangers.”

Jos stuck out his hand. “We can probably use you, sir.”

“Well, I don’t intend to get in the way.”

Jos looked him over in the dim glow of his flashlight. “Somehow I don’t think you’re the type. Interested in what it takes to be a warden?”

“Very,” he answered. But he was wondering why Desi had decided to use a cover story for him after saying she didn’t like lying to her fellow wardens. Did something not feel right to her? Or did she think they’d tell someone outside the service, like a family member? Or maybe this whole idea of illegal outfitters had her wondering just how far this stuff went?

He hoped after this she’d talk to him some more. He kinda felt like he was dangling by a thin rope here. He might have learned the terrain over the summer, but he hadn’t learned any of the people. He was going to need to rely on Desi for that.

Jos got his long gun and soon the three of them were heading into the forest where it impossibly grew even darker. As his eyes adapted more, however, the single red-lensed flashlight in Jos’s hand gave him ample light to avoid obstacles. After a half mile or so they didn’t really even need that as the flickering of firelight began to reach them through the scattered trees. A soft bed of pine needles silenced their feet.

“Spread out,” Desi said quietly. “I’ll approach.”

“Got you covered,” Jos answered. “Kel?”

“I can bash heads. Should’ve brought my pistol.”

“Stay behind one of us,” Desi said. “And put that water where you can find it again. I hope we won’t need it.”

Much as he hated it, Kel hung back just beyond the light cast by the campfire. He narrowed his eyes to prevent eyeshine from showing, set the heavy can down and waited half behind a tree. Easy from here to make out three tents and six men sitting around a fire. A fire in the tinder-dry autumn woods. Idiots. One spark on some dead pine needles and this place would go up fast.

Desi approached them, no longer moving quietly, with her rifle slung casually over her arm and pointing to the ground.

“Evening, gentlemen,” she called out. “Game warden.”

The men who’d already turned their heads her way and started to rise immediately sat back down on their folding camp chairs. “Howdy, Warden,” one of them answered.

“You guys out here hunting?” she asked pleasantly.

“In the morning,” the same man answered. “Half hour before dawn, right?”

“Right. Appreciate you paying attention to that.” She switched on her own flashlight. “Mind if I see your licenses?”

This caused all the men to stand to pull wallets out of their pockets. Kel felt uneasy as six men nearly surrounded Desi, but so far nobody was acting hostile. As each handed over his license, she studied it. “A moose permit?” she asked one of them. “You’re lucky.”

The guy laughed. “Been trying for ten years.”

“I hope you bag a nice one. And if you do, I guess you’ll be glad your buddies can help you carry it out.”

“You bet. That’s one of the reasons they’re here.”

“Just remember, gut it where you kill it, and tag it for transport. Wouldn’t want you to lose it.”

“Me neither,” the guy answered.

“Well,” said Desi, “you’re all square. Just a couple of things.”

“Yeah?”

Her voice tightened a shade. “Bright lights were seen here from below. You aren’t hunting with them, are you?”

“Hell no,” came a chorus of answers.

“Then don’t turn them on again tonight or I’ll have to come back and cite you. And I am going to have to cite you for that fire. You know you’re not allowed to have one out here. But first let’s put it out.”

“Just trying to stay warm,” someone grumbled.

“I understand that, sir, but it’s against the law. You wanna put it out right now, I could let you off with a warning. If you do it right.”

Still grumbling, but quietly, the men doused the fire with water.

“Guess we’ll have to go get more water tomorrow,” one said. “Dang.”

Desi squatted and felt the wet fire pit. “Turn it over, would you?”

One of the men got a small shovel and turned the ground over. Desi felt again. “A little more water to be safe. It’s still warm.”

A few minutes later, she stood, brushing her hand on her jeans. “Okay. No fire, no bright lights. What were you using them for anyway?”

“Setting up camp.”

Her voice turned a little sarcastic. “Really? I’m not saying you’re lying, but we both know you were probably doing more than that. Too bright and on too long. Don’t let me see them again. And if I get another call from down below about them, you won’t be hunting here for a while, okay?”

One of the men raised his arm. Kel acted instinctively and in a few strides was standing next to Desi. Jos had the same reaction, and he was on her other side just as fast.

“What?” said the guy who’d raised his arm. “I was just frustrated.”

“No reason to get frustrated,” Desi said mildly. “If you took your hunting classes, you don’t need me to explain the law. What’s more, we fly a plane over here at night sometimes, so you could get caught again. Since you already have a warning, nobody’s going to give you a second chance. Clear?”

Desi pulled out her book, and taking each hunter’s license and ID, wrote him a warning, then passed him a copy. When she was done, she wished the man well with his moose hunt, reminding the group that the national forest was closed to hunting this year.

A half hour later, they were hiking back through the woods to the road, this time with the aid of two flashlights.

“I’m thinking,” said Jos, “that they were pushing the law.”

“It occurred to me,” Desi said drily. “I hope they got the message. But when you wait ten years for a moose permit, maybe it’s a little harder to follow the rules.”

Kel thought that was pretty generous considering the men had been committing two serious violations. If he had the time and opportunity, he hoped he could figure this woman out a little better. In some ways she appeared to be a bundle of contradictions.

Lugging the big can of water and the shovel, he studied what he could see of the back of her head, and decided this was a good view, too.

Back at the trucks, they all shook hands, then Jos took off into the night. Kel helped Desi load the water can and shovel into the bed of her truck, and stood by while she removed the ammo from her gun and put it in the rack in the back.

“This place will be crowded before dawn tomorrow,” she remarked as they jolted down the road. “Well, as crowded as can be in the middle of nowhere.”

“Will you come back then?”

“Depends on how the rest of this night goes.”

He waited a moment, then asked, “What did you mean about me staying in the bunkhouse?”

“I’ve got a couple of cots upstairs off my apartment. They mostly get used by wardens staying overnight, but you’re welcome to one if you want it. Didn’t I just announce you were visiting me? Like that won’t get around.” She laughed quietly. “I don’t date. Everyone’s going to hear. Anyway, if it won’t interfere with your plans, help yourself.”

“But won’t I get in your way?”

“Not likely. This is the time of year when having a flexible schedule often means I have trouble finding time to put my head on a pillow.”

In his end of the business, as an investigator, he never really got into the ins and outs of a warden’s life. He supposed with so many people hunting in the fall, she probably had a full plate between patrolling for violations and the calls she received from people reporting them. He wondered about other times of the year, but didn’t ask.

He did know how much the wardens relied on people to inform them of possible violations. Some ninety wardens couldn’t be everywhere in a state this size. For every square mile of public land, there must be a helluva lot more private lands where game caused problems, where hunters went even when they shouldn’t. Impossible to keep an eye on everything.

“I’m going to introduce you to some people,” she said unexpectedly. “Some of the ranchers who border the public lands. They can be eyes and ears, if you want.”

“You trust them?”

“Most of them are cops, special-forces types or married to them.”

He smiled into the dark. A fascinating list.

“Like you,” she added, surprising him by teasing. “Do you trust yourself?”

“Of course. But this undercover op may be getting awfully big.”

“Well, I can talk to them myself, but you’d be safer out there if they knew what you were doing.”

He should probably think about it. “Let’s not tell anyone just yet. I’ll give it some thought, but for now I’m just an old friend visiting. Anyone who would doubt that?”

“Not really. I know people around here, but I’ve only been in this area for five years. There’s a lot about my past no one would know in any detail.”

That was an advantage he supposed. “Regardless, I need to know some of that past and how I fit in because somebody’s going to ask questions.”

She hesitated. “You going to take up the offer of the bunkhouse?”

“Now that you’ve announced me, I suppose I should.” He’d come out here with one plan only, to keep his eyes peeled for questionable activity and to try to draw a threat his way. Somehow, everything was changing. His plan about appearing to be trying to get close to her hadn’t involved sharing quarters. He’d better get on it before it all went sideways.

Chapter 3

Kel went back to the motel to gather his personal gear. Desi wondered if she were busy losing her mind. The guy had come out here to try to stick his head in a noose, and she was inviting him to stay with her?

She paced her small apartment, reminding herself that he’d suggested that looking like he was cozying up to her would fit the role he was playing. Well, this was going to get really cozy now.

She knew that some of these illegal outfitters could net upward of fifty thousand dollars in a hunting season. Because they stayed small to avoid trouble and notice, they didn’t guide as many hunts, and didn’t provide all the comforts. Two or three guys, a tent, trail food and bring your own gun. But still cheaper because they took hunters who weren’t licensed, which was a big savings for the nonresident hunter, and a savings for them because they didn’t do the big production method.

They might have a few horses to pack into the wilderness, but they could run only one hunt at a time and didn’t have the cost of a large stable. On the one hand, on the other hand. Trade-offs. She remembered one outfit that kept operating long after their license had expired...and got caught only because somebody who was considering hiring them actually checked out their outfitters license listed on the webpage.

But Kel was after something that was apparently breaking itself into small pieces to avoid notice. A group steadily sinking below the radar. A group taking game it held no permits for.

Kel was running a big risk. The loss of money, the possible jail time, the fines...yeah, it could get dangerous going after people who faced that.

But first they had to be found. She wondered if any other officers with the WIU were in other locations doing the exact same thing. Probably.

Sighing, tired of thinking about the job all the time, she put some music on her stereo, something quiet but upbeat, started some coffee, then hopped in her shower for a quick wash.

She realized she didn’t have much of a life anymore, outside her work. Maybe she’d become obsessed? She promised herself that after this season was over, she would find something to do with her time that in no way resembled her job. Maybe hang out with the girls as Julie and Connie kept suggesting. She’d worked awfully hard to become a senior warden so early in her career, and she guessed she’d become a little distorted in the process.

Work all the time? That had to stop.

She was wearing some casual sweats when she heard Kel rap on her door. Yep, he was taking her up on the bunk. She went to let him in, saying, “Straight back, the door at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks.” He smiled at her and carried his duffel over his shoulder, marching away.

It was, she thought sourly, a sign of her fatigue that she’d made this offer, especially to a man she found so attractive. She could almost smell trouble in the air, like smoke in the breeze.

Oh, well. She plopped on her sofa, put her sock-covered feet up and worked on a mug of coffee. She was lucky that caffeine never kept her up.

Kel returned a few minutes later.

“There’s coffee if you want any.”

“Thanks. Think you’re done for the night?”

“Who knows? Flexible hours sometimes means all of them.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’m familiar with that.”

She watched him stride around the edge of the couch and sit in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. “Get-acquainted time,” she said. “When did you leave the Rangers?”

His dark gray eyes studied her. “Three years ago, after I tore up my knees so bad they gave me a medical discharge.”

She sat up a little straighter. “Did they fix them for you?”

“I can still walk. The pain doesn’t count, so the answer is no.”

“That stinks.”

“I’m not so sure I want artificial knees just yet. These are still working.”

She sipped some more coffee, aware that emotions were trying to edge into this picture. She wasn’t sure she should let them. Keeping a reasonable distance from entanglements had so far served her well. “That’s tough.”

“That’s what they make ibuprofen for. I’m okay.”

“And then?”

“After the Rangers?” He smiled and sipped coffee. “I decided I wanted to do something constructive from there on out. I was lucky to get hired by Game and Fish, took all the training, and then for reasons known only to the Fates, I was assigned to WIU.”

She smiled faintly. “Do you wish they’d made you a warden?”

“I did at first,” he admitted, then looked a bit rueful. “I think I had a romanticized view of what you do.”

“Hah!” She slapped her thigh. “I did, too, once upon a time. But even if it’s not romantic, it’s important. Like last spring when I rescued an orphaned mountain lion cub. That made up for a whole lot.”

“I bet it did.”

She hopped up and went to her small personal desk to open a drawer. Pulling out a photo, she walked over and handed it to him. “That’s me and the cub.”

“My God, it’s cute.” He stared and smiled, before passing it back.

She tossed it on the coffee table and resumed sprawling on the sofa. “They’re going to be endangered before long, at least in these mountains. Sport hunting is putting them near critical.”

“Think we’ll protect them?”

Again she laughed. “Well, that depends, doesn’t it? They’re mostly seen as a threat to livestock or as a trophy. But like everything else, they’re an important part of the ecosystem. So I imagine we’ll have a knock-down, drag-out fight over protecting them when the time comes. In the meantime...well, I can rescue cubs.”

“Like wolves,” he mused. “There’s been a lot of upset since the court put them back on the endangered list.”

“I love the wolves,” she said truthfully. “I understand why so many ranchers think they’re a threat, but I still love them. Two summers ago I got to see most of the pack when I was up in the mountains. Unfortunately we feed the elk because of loss of habitat, and no one wants to see the end of elk, or elk hunting. But those feeding areas are like ringing the dinner bell for the wolves. They usually only kill what they need. Usually. But I guess some people don’t want to share.”

“It’s been my experience that wolves are pretty shy of people. But I suppose the ranchers can’t afford full-time range riders or shepherds.”

“Not anymore,” Desi admitted. “Raising livestock is a difficult job under the best of circumstances, so I understand the concerns the ranchers express.” Then she caught herself. “But why don’t we talk about something besides the job. I was thinking earlier that I’m almost obsessive. I need some fresh air in my brain.”

He chuckled. “Well, the job brought us together, so it makes sense we’d talk about it. But on to other subjects. Let me think.”

She was content to let him do the thinking as she rose again to get more coffee. As she returned to the couch, she saw it with fresh eyes for the first time since she’d moved in. She wasn’t even sure what color it was, it was so old and faded. Somewhere between brown and gray? She was fairly fastidious about keeping things clean, but as she stared at that couch she wondered if cleaning it would help.

Seated again, she watched Kel sip his coffee, his gaze distant.

“I know,” he said finally. “Would you believe I actually saw a snow leopard when I was in Afghanistan? In the wild.”

“For real?” She sat up a little straighter. “Aren’t they rare?”

“Exceedingly. There are only about 250 left.”

“So how did you manage it?”

“I was on a mission to train Afghani forces in mountain fighting. Early one morning I was scanning the mountains around us through some high-power binoculars and there it was. I didn’t tell anyone about it because their pelts are highly prized and the last thing I wanted to do was let anyone know it was there.”

She felt herself smiling broadly. The story made her heart lift. Now, this was a change from her usual rut. “I think I’m going to die of envy.”

He laughed. “Don’t do that. I just wished I could take a photo, but it was too far away. Warming itself on a high ledge in the first sunbeams of the day. It was stunning, Desi. Just stunning.”

“That’s something I’ll only ever see in a photo,” she remarked. “But I’m glad you kept it secret.”

“I didn’t tell a soul. Everyone knows there are snow leopards in the Kush, but they’re hard to find, they range large territories and...well, I wasn’t going to pinpoint one. Afghanistan wants to protect them, but given how rough things are over there...” He let it hang, evidently feeling a long explanation wasn’t necessary. “Anyway, I’d seen one of their pelts in a market in Kabul. I wasn’t going to add to the count.”

She nodded, understanding completely. “You must have seen a lot of exotic things.”

“Depends on what you mean. I saw an awful lot of ugly things, some beautiful things. I made friends but I’m sure I made more enemies. I had about as much idea of what it would mean to be a soldier as you probably had about being a game warden.”

She nodded slowly, feeling an unexpected ache for him. This man bore burdens she couldn’t begin to imagine. He seemed to bear them well. So far, anyway.

He appeared to hesitate. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that I was married once. It blew up when I came back from my first tour in Iraq. I was fairly messed up, explosive temper, flashbacks. It settled down, but too late.”

“And what about now?” she asked, her heart accelerating.

“It’s under control. That’s probably the best I’ll ever be able to say about it. But I can’t complain. Plenty of guys have it worse.”

She bit her lower lip, wondering. “Why did you tell me this, Kel? Is it something I need to worry about?”

He shook his head. “You might see me get a little edgy on occasion, but like I said, I have a handle on it now. Which makes me luckier than most. I just wanted you to know in case I got snappish or withdrawn for no apparent reason.”

That was a whole mouthful, she thought. He might have a handle on it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being tormented anyway. She could have sighed. So many young men and women, haunted forever. But she sought a more helpful attitude. “That’s okay. I get the same way sometimes. Maybe not to the same degree. I don’t know, but I have my moods, too.”

He smiled. Such a warm expression, and it charmed her. “Thanks. Mine can be worse I suppose, but like I said I’ve got it pretty much under control.”

“How much time did you spend over there?” she asked. “If that’s not prying.”

He looked away for a moment. “Since we invaded Afghanistan? A lot. There were breaks, of course. Time to land for a while. Then back again. Maybe seven years or so?”

She couldn’t imagine it. Simply couldn’t. Bouncing back and forth between peace and war like that? It seemed to her that that alone would cause problems. “That must have been rough,” she said after a moment.

“It was what it was.”

Such a casual answer. But she was emerging from her self-imposed preoccupation with her job, a way of avoiding everything else she sometimes thought, and began to see Kel. Really see him, beyond his sexual pull for her. He was treating all this so casually. Had it under control.

That casualness, she thought with gut-deep certainty, was a mask hiding some real suffering. Maybe he’d managed to bury that pain so deep that it didn’t drive him all the time. Maybe he’d even grown accustomed to it.

But she didn’t know how to ask him. Didn’t want to pry, and from the vets she knew around here she thought that prying would be bad anyway. None of them seemed to want to talk about that stuff, not with people who’d never been there.

She could comprehend that. She’d met people who couldn’t fathom why she was able to shoot an injured antelope as she had. Not because she was hunting but because it was the only help she could offer it. They talked about veterinarians, about rehab places, all without knowing that with an injury like that there was no help. And she had to make that decision with a quick inspection. Did she feel nothing? If only.

So she kept her heart locked away on the job as necessary, avoiding thinking too hard about the parts she didn’t like, focusing on the parts she loved. Kel was doing that with a whole big chunk of his life, she guessed.

All of a sudden she felt closer to him. Felt the early stirrings of understanding. There was no real comparison in their experiences, but enough of one to create the first thread between them, on her side at least.

She rose and got the coffeepot, warming both their cups.

“You okay, Desi?” he asked suddenly.

“I’m fine. Maybe a little burnt out,” she added honestly.

He half smiled. “Early in the season for that, isn’t it?”

She shook her head as she settled on the couch again. “It’s year-round, one way or another. Think we don’t get poaching in July?”

“I know you do.”

“Exactly. There’s a lot of other crap, too, like off-roaders driving on posted range land, mudders tearing up sensitive ecology in the spring. Frankly, I’ll never understand the thrill of driving through deep mud. All it does is make a mess.”

His smile widened a bit. “Do it because you can?”

“Seems like.” She offered a smile in return. “There are good things, too. I know a lot of good people, for one thing. For another, there’s nothing like rescuing a baby critter that’s lost its mom.”

“Like the mountain lion cub.”

“Or a bear cub. Or a mess of raccoons. Even injured birds. There’s also fun, like the time a bunch of us had to drive a huge herd of elk off a rancher’s grazing land. They’d pushed their way right though the fence.”

His interest perked. “How many?”

“Seven, eight hundred. A regular roundup.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It could have been but mostly they wanted to get away from us, so we were able to convince them to go back through the fence. We had a lot of local help with that one, and we didn’t lose a single elk.”

He nodded and sipped more coffee. “Bet it felt good.”

She laughed, feeling as if a spring inside her were uncoiling a bit. “It felt like a triumph. Nobody wanted to see that herd hurt, but the rancher needed the land for his own stock.”

His face shadowed a bit. “Not enough room anymore.”

“Not anymore.” She stifled a sigh. “It’s a constant battle, Kel. You must have figured that out. Not enough open land anymore, not for the way it used to be. We keep migration corridors open, we have feeding areas for the big game because otherwise they’d starve and guess what happens?” And here she was, talking the job again. A one-trick pony.

“What?”

“Brucellosis. Everybody wanted to blame it on the buffalo coming out of Yellowstone, but the truth turned out to be the elk were passing it along at the feeding sites, and when the elk ran into buffalo or free-range cattle...well. Not the buffalo at all, really.”

Then she sat up. “I believe I said I didn’t want to talk about the job tonight.”

“You did. I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who keeps bringing it up like a broken record.” She shook her head.

“Well, it can be a 24/7 job. But right now you’re relaxing, so let me think of something else to talk about. I was trying to do that earlier, and not so successfully it seems.”

It was true, she thought. She gave him points for being helpful in more ways than one. She must sound like a whiner. Or maybe a bore. Either one was bad.

“Got any family?” he asked.

“You mean the deserters?” She smiled. “My parents headed for sunnier climes as soon as they could manage. My mother never liked the cold, and as she got older her dislike grew. My dad swore he couldn’t take the complaining anymore. So off to Texas, where he’s working construction and Mom is selling real estate.”

“Do you go visit them?”

“Christmas, if I can get away for a few days. Mostly in the summer. Yeah, it’s warmer. I don’t like it.”

He laughed outright, drawing an answering laugh from her. “I’m not keen on hot climates. Any delusions I had about that ended in Iraq. I’ll take cool and cold any day.”

“So you weren’t just in Afghanistan?”

“Not always.” He paused, his gaze growing distant. Then he shook his head, as if a gnat were annoying him. “As to family...there’s just me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “I was adopted. I don’t remember my real parents, and my adoptive parents were older people, more like grandparents, and childless. I guess I’m weird, but I never had any urge to hunt up my biological mother or father. My adoptive parents were good to me. I loved them and they loved me. That’s all I need to know.”

Never having been adopted, Desi didn’t know how to evaluate that, but she suspected this was a man who was good at compartmentalizing his life. Then it occurred to her that in her own way so was she. The Job. All the time, the Job.

“Didn’t anyone ever sweep you off your feet?” he teased.

Well, there was nothing like a spot of truth, she decided. “One guy tried.”

“And?”

“I kicked him in the nuts.”

His face suddenly went stony, as if he were refusing to react to the range of possibilities inherent in her statement. Good choice, she thought sourly.

“Exactly why?” he asked after a minute.

“What seemed like a date turned into a rape.” There, that was bold. But she didn’t see any reason to pretty it up. It had been ugly and she’d cried for two days afterward. Then she’d vowed to never be a fool again. So how was it possible she could feel attraction to Kel? To any man? Dangerous waters.

He swore, then said, “I’m sorry. I’m surprised you’re lending me a bunk.”

“That’s different. Colleagues use that bunkhouse all the time. Just don’t try to snow me.” With that she stood and went to her own bedroom and locked the door behind her.

God, it was all swimming up again. Why the hell had she ever pulled the cork out of that bottle?

She settled into her rocking chair and just rocked. What else could she do? It’d settle again. It always had before.

* * *

Left to his own devices in her small front room with the remains of a pot of coffee, Kel thought about what she’d just revealed. It had been a stunner, all right. And maybe self-protective.

A few times he’d caught female interest in her gaze, the same kind of attraction he felt for her. Maybe she was afraid of her own feelings. Or maybe she’d sensed his. So she’d put up one great big warning flag.

Just don’t try to snow me. That was a revealing statement. It might explain why she lived for the job, why it was so much of her life that she talked about little else. If so, he felt really sorry for her.

But not just because of her job preoccupation. Because someone had raped her, and the assault had cut so deep that she let nothing else into her life.

If there was one thing he’d learned during his long road of dealing with post-traumatic stress, it was that the world was full of walking wounded, people who’d never been in an official battle zone, but who’d fought their own desperate wars of one kind or another.

So many people. Life didn’t leave many unscathed. Everyone dealt with their scars in their own way, and like a bunch of phoenixes, they tried to rise from the ashes and build on them.

Knowing that, however, didn’t change Desi’s situation one bit. She chose to let her job consume her, and she did a damn fine job to judge by the way she’d risen so rapidly in the service. But she left room for little else, and he’d threatened her just by entering her space.

Maybe he should move back to the motel. But wouldn’t that look odd, and by the size of this town he imagined gossip got around. Checked out, checked in again the same night? That’d make for some speculation, all right.

He sure didn’t want to draw unwanted attention her way. Perhaps that was inevitable now, no matter what he did.

He’d wedged himself into her life and he needed to do some serious thinking about why. Yeah, he’d had to let her know what he was doing here. The point of his operation was not to keep such a low profile that nobody knew where he was. No, he had to draw the bad guys out. Couldn’t do that if he buried himself in a hole, and Desi needed to know what was coming down because he’d be operating in her territory.

But he could have left it at that. Why hadn’t he?

Pouring another coffee, he sat and stared into the places inside him, places he often hated to visit, seeking an answer.

All he found was a deepening concern for Desi. He’d awakened that buried memory in her, brought it out of the dark place she hid it. And then she’d warned him.

Not good. Not good at all. But he didn’t know what to do about it.

* * *

It was late, but Desi was in no mood to sleep. When she heard a vehicle pull up out front, she went on immediate alert. Looking out, she saw a sheriff’s car. What now?

She jammed her feet into her boots and headed out to the front room. Kel was still sitting there, mug in hand, but he’d heard the vehicle, too.

“Trouble?” he asked.

“No idea. Sheriff’s vehicle.” She grabbed her jacket and stepped outside to take the stairs down. She was forestalled by Deputy Sarah Ironheart at the foot of them. A middle-aged woman with raven-black hair, Sarah was of Native American descent and one hell of a nice person.

“Hey, Desi,” Sarah said.

“Sarah. What’s up?”

“Well, you have a guest. Everything okay?”

In spite of herself, Desi colored. So...she had a guest and it was so unusual that the sheriff was going to check up on her? Man, she must have some reputation. “I’m fine, Sarah.”

“I can see that.”

Desi relented even though she felt people might be getting too far into her private business. “Come on up. I’ll make some coffee.”

“I never turn down coffee when I have night patrol. Thanks.” Sarah climbed the stairs and followed Desi into the front room. Kel was still sitting in the chair with a mug on the coffee table. He stood up immediately.

“Sarah, this is Kel Westin, an old friend. Kel, Deputy Sarah Ironheart.”

“Sarah will do,” she said as she shook hands with Kel. “Old friend, huh?”

Kel glanced at Desi. “Yeah. Recently discharged. That’s why you haven’t seen me before.”

Smooth lie, Desi thought, rounding the bar into her teeny kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. She didn’t know if it was wise to mislead the local law. As a rule, she avoided it at all costs. But maybe Kel feared blowing his cover. After all, he didn’t know if Sarah was trustworthy. How could he? He didn’t know Sarah.

Sarah took one edge of the ancient couch. “So where’d you two meet?”

Ah, hell, Desi thought. They hadn’t worked that out, and the smallest detail would give it away.

“When I was at Fort Hood in Texas,” Kel answered easily. “Desi was down that way visiting her parents and...well...” He gave a charming grin. “There was this bar, and then there was this summer romance. Followed by a lot of me being away and us chatting by email and Skype. I thought it might be time to meet up again, now that I’m not being sent away all the time.”

Well, that covered all bases. Desi felt relieved that he’d apparently thought about what he’d say. And boy, how much he’d accomplished with one little tidbit about her.

That was when something gripped her. Pain or anger, she couldn’t tell. She’d just watched that man snow Sarah. He wasn’t trustworthy, badge or no badge. He lied like a pro. Later she was going to have some words for him, but right now she couldn’t. She just had to play along.

She brought Sarah a mug of coffee and heated up Kel’s cup. “Sarah, you want me to fill a thermos for you?”

“I have one,” Sarah answered lightly. “It’s just downstairs, and was I going to turn down a neighborly cup and chat?” She glanced at her watch. “Fifteen minutes, then I’m back on patrol.” She looked at Kel. “Desi’s a special woman. She can hand out a citation without making the violator furious.”

Desi managed a laugh. “They just don’t let me see it.”

Sarah smiled over her cup. “Yeah, that’s often wise. So Kel, you just got out? Any idea what you want to do now?”

“Trying to settle into a different way of life,” he answered.

Sarah nodded. “It can be difficult.” Then she winked. “Now you even have to decide what to put on in the morning.” She patted her leg. “Something to be said for uniforms.”

At that, Kel laughed. “You’ve got a point there. Maybe I should just buy seven days’ worth of clothing that all look alike.”

“Well, that’s one way,” Sarah agreed. She drained her cup and stood. “Desi, you look tired, so I’ll just be on my way.” She paused. “I heard about that trophy kill. Any leads?”

“Zip,” said Desi. “Absolutely nothing. And the meat was wasted.”

“I’ll keep my ear to the ground. Nice to meet you, Kel.” Then Sarah let herself out.

Alone, Desi and Kel exchanged stares. Then she rose without a word and went back to her bedroom, locking the door. He lied too easily. Maybe it was required for working undercover, but it didn’t mean she could trust him.

So just don’t trust him, she told herself as she readied for bed. If she didn’t trust him, he couldn’t hurt her. And to hell with the simmering attraction she felt. She’d lived without men for a while now.

Kel was no reason to break her rule.

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