She bristled. “I didn't pick you up.”
He waved his hand. “Tried to, then.”
She scowled over at him. “Listen, Mr. Blue Wolf Cooper. If I had been trying to pick you up, you'd know it.”
A roguish grin curved his mouth. “Wouldn't have stood a chance, eh?”
“None.”
“Sounds like a challenge to me.”
She gripped the steering wheel. Damn. “Damn it, Cooper, I had enough challenges last night.”
“I found it a bit challenging, myself.” He glanced over at her from under the straw brim. “To stop.” He kept his eyes fastened on her. “You lied to me last night, Maggie. You wanted that kiss. And you wanted more than just kisses. We're an explosive combination. Don't even try and tell me you haven't noticed.”
Biting her lower lip, she negotiated a hairpin curve. “Yes. Well. Under normal circumstances—” She halted abruptly.
He poked up his hat brim with a finger. “Normal circumstances?”
Double-damn. Why hadn't she just denied wanting him? She cleared her throat. “This isn't a good time for me. I'm involved—” Damn, that wouldn't work, either.
She snapped her mouth shut before she blurted out her involvement with the FBI and the case against Sam Whitney. That was all Cooper needed to know. Then he'd have the power over her to insure her complicity in his bear poaching. Or at least her silence. If she refused, he could give away her whereabouts to Whitney, and he’d take care of eliminating her. Cooper wouldn't have to lift a finger.
She glanced over at his hands resting on his abdomen—long, brown fingers laced over strong, masculine hands. Hands that worked hard and had the calluses to prove it. The thought of those powerful hands exploring her body sent shivers all the way down to her toes. She dragged her gaze up.
He regarded her patiently from the other end of the truck's bench seat. “Involved...?” he prodded.
Squaring her jaw, she nodded.
He looked at her incredulously when she didn’t elaborate. “As in, with a man? You told me last night you didn't have a boyfriend.”
“I told you I wasn't married. You assumed the rest.”
“For a damned good reason.” His expression said he wasn't buying any of it. “This supposed boyfriend from around here?”
“No.” He started to say something else, but she cut him off. “So, you'll be hanging around Gina's all day swapping stories about the big one that got away?”
He looked at her long and hard, but in the end went along with the change of topic. “Probably the park. Too early for Gina’s.”
When they got to town, she dropped him off at the auto supply. “I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. I’ll find you.”
As she pulled back onto the asphalt, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She didn't know how much more of this she could take.
She wanted him. But she couldn’t have him. She liked him. But she couldn’t trust him.
Worse, she was starting to have serious doubts about whether or not she could trust herself.
Barely Dangerous: Chapter Thirty-One
“An arrow in the heart?” Jane exclaimed, her laughter crackling through the cell phone connection and landing with a clink of broken glass in Maggie's ear.
“Yes, and he killed me,” she said, totally irked. “Jane, this is serious. I can't believe you're laughing at me.”
“I'm sorry.” Jane giggled. “It's just years of Shakespearean symbolism coming out. Honestly, I don't think it’s funny, at all.” She attempted to stifle her mirth.
“Believe me, the man looks nothing like Puck,” Maggie muttered.
Jane’s voice sobered temporarily. “No, from your description he sounds more like Romeo.” More giggles.
“Oh, pu-lease.” If Jane weren’t such a good friend, Maggie might have been genuinely irritated.
“Mags,” Jane said. “I know it's a strange concept for you, but did you ever think maybe you've fallen for this guy and you're inventing this poaching stuff as a good excuse not to get involved?”
“Inventing? Are you kidding me? I just met the man, and he's done nothing but terrify me.” Maggie made a face at her reflection in the windshield. “Well, okay, we’ve had a few good moments. But I've been watching my back ever since he warned me about the millions of dollars.”
“Sounds like love to me.”
Maggie groaned. “Jane.”
“Okay, okay, I'll see what I can find out about him,” Jane said grudgingly, “but if I have to dig, it could take a day or two. I've got a big deadline tomorrow.”
“Thanks, you're the best.” Maggie blew out a breath. “So you really think I'm just imagining it all?”
This time her friend really did get serious. “I wouldn't go that far, but it seems to me if he were out to hurt you, he'd already have done so. Sounds like he’s had ample opportunity.”
Which was exactly what Maggie had told herself earlier. “You're probably right.”
“I’m sure he really is a writer, and totally innocent.”
She grimaced. “I hope so. I just...want to be sure.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I confirm it.” Jane's smile glowed over the wire. “And I’ll expect a blow by blow account of everything that happens when you finally come to your senses.” She snickered. “And I do mean—”
“I know, I know,” Maggie interrupted with a chuckle. Jane was incorrigible—one of her more endearing traits.
She hung up feeling more confused than ever. She had been unable to convince her friend that Cooper was dangerous. Or even that he was involved in the poaching. “All circumstantial,” Jane had said.
Was the ambiguity Jane had perceived based on the evidence against him...or had she simply picked up on Maggie's feelings for him?
Well, no time to think about that now. She had to get the battery to Iris ASAP.
* * *
An hour later, Maggie passed the little box she’d kept the battery in over a rainbow of nail polish bottles.
Iris took out the equipment to lift the fingerprint, and said, “So, you think the print belongs to your new neighbor, this Blue Wolf Cooper?”
“If he’s the poacher, it might. Or it may just belong to whoever originally tagged the bear.” Maggie leaned back and watched Iris expertly peel the print off the battery, thinking of Rollo and Sally. “I really appreciate you and Dinny doing this for me. I’ll feel a lot better knowing one way or another.”
“Trust me, if this Wolf guy tries to mess with you, he's going to be sorry he ever heard the words gall bladder.” Iris slipped the finished peel and the battery into protective envelopes. “Dinny wants you safe and happy until the trial. No way he'll let some two-bit poacher threaten his star witness.”
“Cooper hasn't actually threatened me. He might be completely—”
“Innocent,” Iris drawled. “Now, there's an original thought. Come on, let's grab something to eat. I skipped breakfast. We can overnight this on the way.”
They climbed into Iris' Mini and were driving to the post office when Maggie noticed a familiar blue car behind them. “I think someone’s following us.”
Iris was instantly alert. “Where?”
“A few cars back. The blue Ford sedan. Looks like the same one I saw on my way into town.” It had pulled out of a turnout and she'd seen it off and on all the way to Iris' salon.
“Did you get the plate number?”
“No. When I parked, it just drove on by and the driver didn't even look at me. I thought I was being paranoid. But now, I'm not so sure.”
Iris turned to her. “If he is following you, who is it? A poacher, or Whitney?”
“Good question.” Maggie bit her lip. If it was one of the poachers, he wanted the battery. If it was Whitney's man, it was her he wanted. She exchanged a grim look with Iris.
Pulling into the post office parking lot, Iris grabbed her cell phone and took a series of photos of the rear of the car. “Should be able to read the plate on one of thos
e.”
They watched the blue car until it got lost in traffic.
“Maybe I really was just being paranoid.”
“Either way,” Iris said, “I'll feel a whole lot better when this battery is out of our hands.”
Inside the post office, Maggie stayed by the front window while Iris stood in line. She let her gaze wander around the old fashioned lobby. The counters were oak, and there was a wall of antique letter cubbies behind the modern computers. Remnants of a wrought iron grill framed the service desk. There were even wanted posters up on a bulletin board next to the line.
Glancing out the front window again, Maggie's heart stood still. Oh, my God. The blue sedan was parked right out front! The driver was nowhere to be seen.
Doing her best to look natural, she turned and focused on each person in the line. Right behind Iris, a man was staring straight at Maggie. She quickly lowered her eyes.
As soon as Iris finished mailing the envelope, Maggie grabbed her arm. “Let's get out of here,” she whispered urgently, and hustled Iris away.
“What's wrong?”
“The blue car,” she said, hurrying out the door. “It's parked out front, and I think the driver was standing behind you in line.”
“My God, you're kidding. One of Whitney’s goons?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I don't think he noticed I'm onto him.” She jiggled the car door handle impatiently while Iris clicked it unlocked. “We have to call Dinny.”
Iris nodded. “And I’ll email him those license plate photos.” She narrowed her eyes worriedly. “But if it’s Whitney, how in the world did he trace you here?”
Cold fear crawled up Maggie’s spine. “I wish to God I knew.”
Barely Dangerous: Chapter Thirty-Two
Coop sat on a smooth wooden bench in Marigold’s small city park next to Center Street, surrounded by a group of old men all talking at once. Despite his lack of sleep and the aggravation Maggie had caused him, he'd had a good morning. It had been a lot like summers with the band in Canada, hanging around camp, listening to the men telling of their hunting and fishing adventures.
Along with the fishing yarns, he’d coaxed out several poaching stories, and had even managed to worm a few Maggie Johansen stories out of them on the sly. He'd been mighty impressed a couple of them.
Once again, he wanted to doubt the damning evidence that she was involved in the poaching. Maybe she had a good explanation for messing with the crime scene and stealing evidence.
He really, really hoped so.
When her truck came barreling down the highway, he got to his feet. “Sorry, gentlemen, that's my ride.” He grinned at his new friends. “And it looks like the lady's in a hurry.”
The truck's brakes squealed as it spun into one of the diagonal parking spaces in front of the park. The passenger door popped open, and she motioned for him to hurry. He gave the men a final wave and walked over to the truck.
“Get in. We've got to go.”
He studied her as he buckled up. She looked scared. “What's up?”
“Nothing. I just have to get back to the lookout tower. I’m working this afternoon.”
She tore out of the parking spot and peeled off down the highway, checking her rear view mirror every few seconds.
“You want to tell me what's going on?” he asked evenly.
She shot him a nervous look. “Nothing. I'm just in a hurry.”
He settled back and watched her. Her eyes kept darting to the mirrors, and she was breaking every speed limit. Jack must really have spooked her.
“Who's following you, Maggie?”
She gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. “Someone I don't want finding me.”
He frowned. She knew who it was? Then it couldn’t be his partner. “Who?” he asked, getting concerned.
She checked the mirror again. “I don't want to talk about it.”
Several possibilities ran through his mind. He took a wild stab. “Is it the guy you told me about earlier?”
She looked questioningly at him. “What guy?”
“The boyfriend.”
She blinked, then said, “He's not my boyfriend.”
Aha. He hadn't believed her for a nanosecond last night when she'd implied she was romantically involved with someone. A woman didn't kiss a man like she'd kissed him if she had a boyfriend.
“But you're involved with him.”
She jetted out a breath. “In a way.”
As in, a poaching way. Damn it. He was back to suspecting her.
“He doesn't know where you are?”
Her lips thinned. “That’s what I thought.”
“So, you don't want him to find you?”
Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. “No.”
He thought about that. Okay, this was good. She didn't want to be involved with the poaching anymore. He breathed a sigh of relief. Time to lay his cards on the table.
“Let me help you,” he said.
She eyed him suspiciously. “There's nothing you can do.”
“I have connections. I work for—”
“Please. I don’t want to talk about this. I'm too wound up to think.”
“Maggie, listen to me—”
“My God, you're persistent. Can't you see I'm—”
“Stop. I work for the Department of Fish and Wildlife. I'm here to bust the poachers.”
She slammed on the brakes and brought the truck to a squealing halt at the side of the road. She stared at him for a full minute before demanding, “Prove it.”
He tugged his photo ID from his wallet and passed it over to her. She examined it closely for a long moment. “I thought you were a writer,” she said at length.
“I work for the DFW special ops unit. I’m here undercover.”
Her jaw dropped a little. “Fish and Wildlife has undercover agents?”
“Wardens. But, yeah. Easier to catch the really bad guys that way.”
Her eyes peered at him with nothing but big question marks in them. “Why are you telling me this?”
He held her gaze. “I'm hoping you can help with my investigation.”
She froze. “Me? How could I help?” she asked nervously.
“Tell me who’s doing it.”
Her eyes widened. “How should I know?”
Disappointment rolled through him. He’d really hoped she would come clean. “Because you're involved up to your pretty little neck.”
Her cheeks flamed. “What gives you that idea?”
He wanted to shake her till her teeth rattled. He wanted to yell, “Because I fucking saw you there at the kill site taking evidence that didn’t belong to you!” But he restrained himself. Barely.
If she was innocent, why wouldn’t she just throw herself on his mercy? She had to know he was biased in her favor.
But if she was involved, and still denying it, that could mean the poachers did have some kind of hold over her—whether voluntary or not. She might go straight to the bad guys and tell them DFW knew about the evidence. He’d have no chance of recovering it, and they’d move on to safer hunting grounds.
And his entire operation would be doomed to failure.
He cursed his damn instincts. Once again, they’d betrayed him miserably.
He ground his teeth, and tried one last time. “Just tell me the truth, Maggie. Who's following you?”
Her mouth pinched. “I told you, it's just a man I'm involved with.”
A black cloud passed through his heart. “You're telling me it's not some scumbag who’s after you because he thinks you can put him away?”
She winced, but shook her head to cover it. “What I’m telling you is, I have no idea who the poacher is. That’s the truth. You have to believe me.”
Barely Dangerous: Chapter Thirty-Three
She was lying. He was sure of it.
Coop lay on his sleeping bag in his tent and reached for his cell phone. With a growl of frustration, he dialed Jack's number.
“I ran that pharmacist, Tommy Walker, through the system again,” Jack reported. “He still checks out clean.”
Coop nodded. “Think I'll keep an eye on him anyway. He might just be real slippery.” He pushed out a breath. “I spent the morning talking with a bunch of old geezers. They all knew about the poaching, but not one had a clue who's doing it. They don't think it's anyone local, but it has to be. I'm the only stranger hanging around Marigold this summer—me and Maggie.” He rubbed his eyes. “By the way, I told her I work for CDFW.”
On the other end, there was a short silence. “And?”
“She denies any involvement in the poaching.”
“I’m shocked. You believe her?”
“She seemed sincere. About that, anyway. But she's lying through her teeth about something. What I can't figure out is why.”
Why wasn't she telling him the truth, now that he’d confessed who he really worked for? She must know he’d go easy on her, all things considered.
“How about she's guilty as hell?” Jack drawled.
Coop raked his fingers through his hair. “That's one possibility.”
Jack's cough of disbelief jolted through the phone like a slap upside the head. One that Coop badly needed. He had to be out of his mind, looking for excuses for that irritating woman.
“You realize your cover is blown,” Jack observed.
“Only if she's guilty, amigo. I'm going to give her a little more rope to hang herself with. I don’t know. The whole thing feels wrong to me.”
A breath whistled over the air. “Okay, Coop. You're the one with the famous instincts.”
Yeah, right. Famously incorrect.
Jack paused. “I tailed her to Redding, liked you asked.” Jack recounted Maggie's visit to a beauty salon and subsequent trip to the post office with the salon’s owner.
“The post office?” Coop said, momentarily nonplussed.
“I got a good look at the label on the overnight package they were mailing. It was addressed to a Dinny Paxton at a post office box down in L.A..
“Ah. The evidence she picked up, I expect,” Coop said, even more disappointed.
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