When she broke into a clearing at the edge of the highway, she glanced up and down the road. A glint of metal in the moonlight led her right. She’d found his bike. Instantly, she crouched beside it and reached into her back pocket for her phone while keeping her weapon trained on the woods she’d just left.

  She quickly found the number for Montana Bounty Hunters. To her surprise, Fetch answered.

  “Meg? What’s happening?”

  “I was attacked. My house torched. Wolf’s still inside. Two gunmen,” she bit out as quickly as she could.

  “I’ll call 911. You hunker down. I have people in the area. We’ll be there shortly.”

  When he ended the call, she scanned the wood line again. Orange light glowed above the trees, and the acrid scent of wood burning filled the air. Just when she’d decided she couldn’t sit waiting another second, she heard footsteps crashing through the underbrush. She raised her weapon.

  Wolf hurtled toward her.

  “Fetch is on the way,” she called out as he drew closer.

  “On the bike!”

  She jumped on front, rocked it forward off its stand, and started it up. The second he slid onto the bike behind her, she gave it gas, not once looking at the mirrors to see what might be behind them.

  Twenty minutes later, they rendezvoused with Fetch at an abandoned gas station outside of Kalispell, hiding their vehicles from view behind the dilapidated store. Soon after, a dark van and an SUV arrived.

  Meg was surprised when two females, dressed in SWAT black, climbed out of the dark van. Two tall, burly men climbed out of the SUV.

  Standing in the light shed by the headlights of his vehicle, Fetch made the introductions. He indicated the two women. “These are Felicity Gronkowski…”

  The slender woman with a short red bob nodded.

  “…and Monica Bradford…”

  The curvy brunette gave a little salute and a tight smile.

  “They’re with Renegade Investigation and Protection.”

  Meg’s eyebrows shot up. She’d heard of the organization—after all, who in law enforcement in Montana hadn’t? They were actually an international group but were known to be “good neighbors” and had recently helped on several high-profile investigations in the area.

  “You’ve met Mace,” Fetch continued, “although you might not recognize him without his dog, Taco.”

  Meg nodded at the dark-haired, dark-eyed man.

  “And this big bastard…” he said, giving a tall blond man a backhanded slap to the belly, “…is Reaper. I called him yesterday. We’re a bit short-staffed at the moment. Multiple ongoing hunts. Reaper was free. He usually works out of Bear Lodge.”

  The tall man stood with his arms folded over his chest and gave her a solemn nod. “Fetch said he expected trouble. Wanted to be ready. I like trouble.”

  Meg couldn’t help smiling at his gruff voice. He sounded and looked grumpy, but the rest the people around her grinned, so she figured that was just Reaper’s way.

  “So, Meg,” Fetch said, “maybe you could catch up the crew on what the hell is going on here.”

  Meg nodded and started at the beginning with Tobin’s odd behavior at the warehouse fire. Wolf piped in, filling in the group on what had transpired when they’d cornered Tobin in the forest and he’d been killed, along with his suspicions that Bennie had been the shooter.

  Mace swore under his breath. “I can’t even begin to say how wrong that was, given how Fetch went out on a limb to give the boy a job.”

  Meg sighed. “Well, whatever loyalty he felt for Fetch was preceded by his loyalty to the Free Montana Militia.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Fetch muttered.

  “I just figured out the connection this evening.” Meg shrugged. “I did an internet search on the warehouse Tobin confessed to setting on fire. It belonged to Bear Claw Industries, a shipping company and a sole proprietor company owned by Red Barton.”

  “The congressman?” Monica said, her eyebrows shooting upward.

  “Yes. And he spoke to the militia group in Amity. Both Tobin and Bennie were present. I’m betting if we could do a search of the other members, we might be able to find someone who owns the black Chevy Tahoe that chased us down.”

  Monica gave a crisp nod and turned to Felicity.

  Felicity didn’t have to be told. “On it.” She reached into her backpack, pulled out a tablet, and walked away.

  “With Monica’s resources, we should know more by morning,” Fetch said. “In the meantime, we need to get you two buttoned up tight somewhere safe. My cabin on Flathead Lake isn’t on anyone’s radar. Reaper and Mace will help keep watch.” He glanced at the Harley. “Sorry, Wolf, I’ll need those keys. You two can ride with these guys. I’ll have someone bring you clothes and supplies tomorrow. Keep your heads down.”

  “What about the sheriff?” Meg asked.

  Fetch’s lips tightened. “Sheriff Hatchett’s a good man. I’ll head back to your place. There should be plenty of law enforcement crawling all over it. I’ll fill him in, but he’s not going to know where you are. We don’t know who else might have friends in the militia. Now, get out of here. We’ve got this now, Meg, Wolf. You’re out of it. No, electronics. No phones. You’ll turn those over to me, by the way. Reaper has a sat phone. We’ll use that to keep in touch.”

  * * *

  Wolf didn’t wake until their vehicle slowed then bumped onto a gravel road.

  Meg stirred as well then stiffened once she realized she’d rested with her head tucked into the corner of his shoulder, her back against one side of his chest, and her hand resting on his thigh. Her hand clamped on his muscle then quickly withdrew.

  He missed the heat of her body as she straightened in her seat.

  “Guess we’re here,” she said. “Can’t believe I slept that hard.”

  “We both needed it.”

  “You can both get more beauty rest once we get inside,” Reaper said. “Though I don’t think Meg needs as much as you.”

  Wolf grunted and shook his head.

  “Guess you’re wondering how you got so damn lucky to pull me as a babysitter, huh?” Reaper drawled.

  Meg chuckled. “I’m wondering who you pissed off to get this assignment.”

  Reaper laughed. “Can’t wait for you to meet my woman, Carly. She’s got a sharp tongue, too.”

  They pulled to a halt along a circular drive in front of a two-story, cedar-shingled cabin, nestled on the side of a hill overlooking the lake. Even in the dark, he could tell the setting was stunning. A slice of Montana heaven. Tall pines surrounded the house. A long, covered porch stretched across the front. The wooden steps were wide and led to a large, carved door, fancy for a cabin, but the two bronze sconces on either side of the door matched its charm.

  Thinking about the fate of Meg’s house, he wondered how Fetch could risk bullet holes and fire by letting them take up residence here. “Come on,” he said, flicking the door latch. “Let’s take a look inside. Bet he has running water.”

  She shook her head as she slid across the seat to get out and stand beside him. “I bet there’s a lot more amenities, too.” She gave a low whistle.

  “Yeah, fancy for a place to come fish,” Reaper muttered. “Then again, I sank a koi pond in front of mine.”

  “Seriously?” Meg said, her head tilting toward the tall man.

  He grimaced. “Costs a fortune in propane to keep that sucker heated in the winter, but Carly loves it. And we live there full-time.”

  Mace and Reaper retrieved multiple bags from the rear of the vehicle and headed up the stairs. At the top of the steps, Mace turned back. “We’ll do a quick walkthrough. Make sure it’s safe. I’ll give you the all clear when we’re done.”

  After the two men disappeared inside, she turned to Wolf. “A shower will be nice,” Meg said. “Although I had one right before the first bullet went through my front window.”

  A shudder worked its way through his frame, and he didn’t resist the urge to bring her closer. He slipped his arms around her back and brought her body against his chest.

  She held herself stiff against him for about a second, and then slowly melted against his frame. A deep sigh moved her chest. “I never said thank you,” she murmured.

  “For what?” he said, distracted by the hint of something floral that floated from her hair.

  “Saving me back at my house.”

  “I’m pretty sure you would’ve managed on your own, Meg. But I’m glad I could help.”

  “Me, too.” And her hands slowly slid around his back.

  A whistle sounded above them, and they glanced up to see Mace giving them a wave.

  Reluctantly, Wolf released her from his embrace then followed her up the stairs.

  Inside, he shadowed Meg, room by room, as they both acquainted themselves with the amenities. Three bedrooms above, each with its own bath. A large open living room-kitchen area with dark wood cabinets and furnishings and a large sectional with deep seats.

  “I call dibs on the sectional,” Reaper said when they trailed into the kitchen. He was already heating up multiple cans of beef stew in one big pot. “Mace and I will take shifts tonight, so you two can get some sleep—after you eat. Nothing fresh in the fridge. Did find some crackers to go with the stew, though.”

  Meg smiled and took a seat at the table. “I’ll let you guys serve me. I’m just about dead on my feet.” She glanced at Wolf. “You, too. You’ve been going non-stop for days, what with hiking through Kootenai.”

  Wolf did feel exhaustion tugging at his shoulders. “We’ll eat. Then we’ll both get some rest. We’ll worry about who’s trying to kill you, tomorrow.” When he saw her grimace, he added, “Sorry.”

  “No,” she shook her head. “That’s our new reality. Until we can get to the bottom of this conspiracy, neither of us will be safe. And I’ll bet they’re not much happier having Fetch involved, too.”

  Reaper set a bowl of hot stew in front of her. “Fetch knows the danger. Monica’s adding a protection detail—for him, and for you. If they’re doing their jobs, you won’t see them.”

  “So, why do we need you?” she said, arching an eyebrow.

  Reaper grunted and placed a glass of water beside her plate. “The stew’s salty. You’ll need this.”

  Leaning over her bowl, she closed her eyes and inhaled. “Don’t know why Dinty Moore is just the thing when I’ve been out in the woods.”

  The men chuckled and shared glances. To a man, they promised silently to keep her safe.

  Wolf moved to the pot on the stove and used a ladle to scoop stew into a bowl. Then he returned to take a seat beside Meg.

  Wolf lifted his chin at Mace. “Where’s Taco?”

  “Left him with Sylvie.”

  Wolf lifted his eyebrows. “Thought you two were over.”

  “We are, but she’s not over Taco. Says he’s the best male companion she’s ever had.”

  “Ouch,” Reaper said. “Man, maybe you need some pointers about how to keep a woman happy.”

  “Maybe you better mind your own business,” Mace said, narrowing his eyes. “As I recall, before you got lucky and met Carly, you weren’t winning any awards for ‘Best Boyfriend’.”

  All the males glanced toward Meg, who sat with a half-smile curving her mouth. “Don’t look at me. I’m not an expert on what women want. Most of my friends are guys—with just as lousy track records as you…apparently.” She ducked her head and scooped another spoonful of stew into her mouth—likely to have an excuse not to continue the conversation.

  Wolf felt Reaper’s and Mace’s gazes moving between him and Meg. He kept his glance carefully glued on his savory bowl of food. No way did he want to talk about his spotty dating history. Most of his time was spent working or renovating the small, older clapboard house he’d purchased on a whim when he’d decided to settle in Kalispell. He didn’t have time for women, and certainly hadn’t the appetite for sexual partners he didn’t want to know outside of the bedroom. In his youth, he’d been free with his body and his heart, and he’d been bitten in the ass a time or two—enough to know he wanted something more than the satisfaction his own hand could provide.

  Glancing at Meg, and noting a slight blush adding pink to her cheeks, he thought maybe he was ready to take a chance—if his attraction wasn’t the result of the high octane rush they’d shared trying to stay one step ahead of certain death.

  But he was pretty sure danger and proximity weren’t the reasons he was growing hard right now. From the first, he’d admired her lightly freckled skin, lush green eyes, and spare figure. The woman was sturdy and strong and, already, he could imagine them together. He liked her stubborn nature and intelligence as well. What remained for him to learn was whether they shared common values and desires. Whether they, as a couple, had enough in common to stick together for the long haul, because he was done with relationships built on a flimsy, surface attraction. He wanted the real thing. Something deep and lasting.

  “You’re not eating,” she said softly.

  He realized he’d been staring. Mace and Reaper had their gazes locked on their bowls, but the smirks they wore said they’d noticed where his attention had been. Heat began to creep up his neck. He stuck his spoon in his bowl and began to eat.

  From the corner of his eye, he noted that Meg was watching him just as closely. Maybe she felt the same magnetic attraction. Too bad they had an audience now.

  Chapter 5

  Meg thanked God they had an audience now. If she’d been alone with the man, she might have given into the urge to crawl right into his lap, and wouldn’t he be surprised? She shuddered at the thought of mistaking his intensity for interest. But what was with the long stare?

  From the corner of her eye, she’d noted his gaze scanning her face. And then his blue eyes had glazed a bit, and by his expression, he’d drifted away, lost in thought. Was she that instantly forgettable? Of course, since he’d met her, she hadn’t worn anything that might stir a man’s interest—a sexless uniform and an old tee and age-softened jeans. These days, she rarely wore makeup. Why would she? From long habit, she hid her femininity, not wanting that kind of attention from her fellow soldiers or deputies. Her life since she’d left the Army had been busy digging into her new job and surroundings.

  She’d had one serious relationship, which hadn’t stood the test of her first deployment to Afghanistan. Once burned, and after watching many of her fellow soldiers suffer the same fate, she’d grown leery of relationships, not trusting her own instincts, because she’d misjudged the depth of commitment her boyfriend had felt for her.

  This attraction for Wolf now was just plain stupid. A distraction neither of them needed. Not now. Maybe, when this was over, she’d work up the courage to call him and see if he wanted to go out on a date, because if she waited for him to call, and he never did, she thought she might feel…crushed.

  Well, hell. She pushed back her half-full bowl, her appetite gone. What she needed was some alone time to get back her perspective. Likely, she was reading more into his actions than was really there. Wolf was the hero type. He’d be there to keep her safe. He wasn’t there because he wanted to be with her.

  “I’m going to head upstairs,” she said, offering a smile around the room and standing.

  When Wolf pushed back his chair, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Stay. Finish eating. I’m taking the room at the end of the hall, if you don’t mind.” The farther away, the better.

  The men remained quiet as she left, but she felt their gazes following her up the staircase and had to fight the urge to hurry away.

  When she was upstairs, hidden in the hallway, she let her shoulders fall. Fatigue weighed on her. Disappointment, too.

  * * *

  Wolf watched her until she disappeared from sight.

  “Hey,” Reaper said, tapping the tabletop.

  Wolf turned toward him.

  Reaper lifted his chin toward the stairs. “She didn’t look like she wanted to be alone.”

  “You an expert on women, now?” Mace drawled.

  Reaper’s eyebrows pulled together. “No, but I’ve watched those two,” he said, jerking a thumb toward Wolf. “They can’t keep their eyes off each other. She didn’t leave just because she’s tired. She was waiting for something from you,” he ended, giving Wolf a pointed glare.

  Wolf would never have admitted it, but his heart surged at Reaper’s words. “She’s been through a lot.”

  “And women, even strong ones like Meg and Carly, they need… comfort.” Reaper grimaced. “Look, like jackass here said, I’m no expert, but I don’t think she really wants to be alone. Just sayin’, man. If you’re interested, now is not the time to be polite and give her space.” With that, Reaper blew out a deep breath and sat back in his chair. “Goddamn, I need a beer.”

  Wolf glanced toward the staircase. “I can’t just barge into her bedroom.”

  Mace cleared his throat, drawing his attention. “She’ll want to shower, and she’ll need something clean to wear. I’ve got a T-shirt in my bag and a pair of boxers for you.”

  Wolf nodded. “Thanks, man.” He waited while Mace went to retrieve the clothing.

  Reaper gave Wolf a nod. “You won’t be sorry, Wolf. Even if all she wants is to be held.”

  Mace returned and handed him the clothing.

  Wolf pushed up from his seat, and feeling awkward, gave both men a wave before making a beeline for the stairs. Behind him, he heard soft laughter, but he didn’t care if they were enjoying watching him rush away. No, the only thought in his head was of the way she’d looked as she’d left the room, her shoulders beginning to dip. She’d looked lonely.

  * * *

  A soft knock sounded on her door, and Meg paused. She’d just laid out a towel and found toiletries beneath her sink. She’d searched the drawers of the dresser only to find Fetch-sized clothing, and she’d closed the drawers again, feeling weird about rifling through her former commander’s things.

 

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