Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

  It drilled through hers, and a heavy layer of smoke seemed to pour forth from his eyes, swirling into her head, emptying her mind of all thought but him.

  Was she losing it?

  She tried to fight the smoke that was wrapping itself around her brain, but instead felt her determination slowly ebb away, joining the dim fog, until there was nothing left of her willpower.

  She surrendered.

  Like the caribou, she welcomed the warrior Blue Wolf into her mind, where he swept away her fear, and her strength. His threat pierced her heart like an arrow, but the fear was nothing compared with her craving for the man looking deep into her soul.

  Gripping her face in one powerful hand, he invaded her with his gaze, sliding farther and farther into her mind, leading her in a shared erotic vision.

  Bare skin melded, copper against white, hearts and bodies twining in a sinuous dance of love.

  Slowly, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. His hold on her face loosened. She ran her tongue lightly over his lips, his cheeks, his eyes, gathering passion, ever more eager and abandoned.

  “Wolf,” she whispered. “My Wolf.”

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Cooper groaned in ecstasy. He wanted Maggie. Sweet God in heaven, how he wanted her.

  Sexual need slammed through his body. Her hands and lips and tongue were pushing him fast toward the edge.

  But he knew in his heart he had to stop what was happening.

  He understood what he'd done to her, and honor would not allow him to take advantage of it. As much as he longed to make love with her, he would not take her like this—after he'd stripped away her will to resist.

  With the last shred of his own willpower, he tore himself away from her. “Baby, stop. Not like this.” He shook her lightly. “Maggie! This isn't you.”

  She gazed up at him uncomprehendingly. “Please, Wolf, make love to me.” Slowly, sensually, she slid her hands down his body. “I want you so much.”

  Her breathless plea made him feel powerful and dominant. He shuddered a breath out slowly. “I know.” He put his arms around her and licked his lips, tasted her on them and almost weakened. “I want you, too.” He brushed over her hair with his cheek. “God, how I want you, pup. More than I've ever wanted anyone in my life.”

  She made low, feminine sounds of desire, and fitted her soft curves into his tense body, tightening her arms around him. “Then take me.”

  “I know you want this now. But there was always something holding you back before. I took that away.” He eased her away from him and held her at arm's length. “Try to remember. Try, pup.”

  He could see her puzzled, then grasping at the threads of her will, struggling to wade through the need and retrieve the strength he had stolen. He saw the exact moment when his spell shattered and the smoke was banished from her mind.

  She collapsed against the truck and turned away from him, covering her face in her hands. “My God! What did you do to me?” Her voice quavered violently.

  He shook his head in amazement. “I, uh... I smoked you.”

  He was just as stunned as she was. For a few moments, he had actually been inside her mind, controlling her thoughts and emotions. “It's a shaman's trick. A form of hypnosis, I suppose.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “You hypnotized me?”

  “I smoked you. And believe me, I have no idea how I managed it.” All the times he'd tried to smoke a woman's power before, he'd never even gotten close. “An old medicine man taught it to me a long time ago. But I’ve never actually succeeded before.”

  Not that it had stopped him from trying—when he was young.

  Now, with Maggie, when things were already much too complicated, he'd unconsciously called up the ancient powers and smoked her. In her opened mind, he'd seen what she wanted—him. And gotten a glimpse of her fear.

  The woman was stone cold scared. But not of him.

  She tried to push past him.

  He didn't budge. “Listen to me—”

  “No!” He grasped her arm, but she yanked it back. “If you think your hocus pocus will frighten me, Cooper, you're sadly mistaken.”

  But she was frightened, and he knew it. How could she not be? She’d been on the verge of giving him everything. Her body. Her heart. Her very soul.

  She turned toward the stairs. “I’m outta here.”

  “Maggie, please. Talk to me!”

  She covered her ears. “No! Let me go.”

  He reached out to her. “I'm sorry I smoked you. But when I was in your mind, I saw how scared you are. Please let me help you. So we can have a chance to be together.”

  She stared at him, hugging herself. She looked so hurt and confused. So vulnerable. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He knew she did. He also had to believe she wanted to tell him everything.

  But something was stopping her, and he hadn’t been able to break through that barrier. Not even when he’d smoked her.

  She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and said, “You threaten me. You have to hypnotize me to get me to kiss you. And you think I want a chance to be with you? Are you completely out of your mind?”

  He reeled back as if she'd struck him.

  Apparently so.

  He curled his hands into fists, anger sweeping through him. Once again, she’d gone too far, gotten too personal with her insults.

  Why did he even bother?

  “This time, it's you who's got the chronology all wrong, baby,” he gritted out. “You were kissing me and liking it plenty, way before I smoked you.” He clamped his jaw hard. “But it damn well won't happen again. Not until you start trusting me.”

  She just stood there defiantly.

  Fine.

  He spun toward the Indian and grabbed his helmet. “It's all or nothing, Maggie. Decide how you want it.” He jammed on the helmet and mounted the bike. “Before it's too damn late.”

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Maggie watched Cooper ride away, her heart shattering into a million pieces.

  She’d actually thought she'd been in love before, thought she’d known what love was. But the visions of love that Cooper had shown her in the shadowy smoke went beyond anything she'd ever felt, or even imagined.

  She closed her eyes and pain slashed through her. What would it be like to feel that way about a man, all day, every day? To trust him with her life, and with her whole heart?

  If only it were possible...

  But it wasn't. Cooper didn't know what he was asking when he'd demanded her trust.

  Besides, how pathetic did he think she was? Using her feelings, making her want him like that...when he didn’t really want her. Not for anything more than to help solve his damn poaching case. He’d made that pretty clear. More than once.

  An ironic laugh escaped her. Hell, maybe that was the solution. Tell Blue Wolf Cooper she loved him. Then watch how quickly he packed up his tent and slipped away in the night, safely out of her life.

  In all possible ways.

  She eyed the plate of food on the roof of the truck. She’d totally lost her appetite. But she couldn’t leave it there to attract bears. So she reluctantly picked it up.

  Wearily, she climbed the tower stairs. What the hell. All this angst might be over nothing, anyway. The way he'd looked at her driving away, he’d probably never speak to her again.

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Forty

  Cooper parked the Indian behind Gina's and hopped off. He slapped his gloves against his thigh in frustration. Damn, the woman was infuriating.

  Why did she still refuse to talk to him? Refuse to trust him?

  He pounded a clenched fist against a rough wooden fence surrounding the parking lot, and stalked toward the rear door of Gina’s. Damn it to hell!

  He swiped up a vegetable crate from the ground. It had been half a lifetime since he'd taken his temper out on an innocent tree or building—hell, it'd been half a lifetime since he'd
had a temper—but tonight he really felt like breaking something.

  He heard the call of the evil windigo spirit.

  A growl started low in his throat, getting louder as he swung the big wooden crate against a dumpster. His roar crescendoed with the crash, and a thousand splinters mingled with drops of deep red blood, spraying across the asphalt.

  Damnation! He felt more torn tonight than he'd ever felt in his life. More than between two conflicting cultures, more than between his cousin Bernie and the law when he'd been arrested. More than between the dangerous, lonely job he loved and the dream of a peaceful, uneventful life with a family of his own.

  He had to solve this case.

  Quickly.

  If nothing else, for the sake of his own sanity. Before the windigo claimed him for good.

  He slammed the door to Gina's and threw himself into a booth. He’d blown it badly tonight with Maggie. He’d meant to keep his distance. To play it cool and professional. He really had. Of all the possible stupid things to do, kissing her again was right there at the top of the list.

  Second only to smoking her.

  Good fucking night. Of all the times for his so-called mystical abilities to kick in, they'd had to choose precisely that moment. He raked a hand through his hair, oblivious to the drops of blood trickling down his wrist. Jesus, what he’d seen in her mind. What they had done together.

  What he had given up by stopping.

  Gina walked over and handed him a towel and a mug of beer. He took a long gulp.

  Fucking, merciful hell.

  Just minutes later, he signaled for a second beer. She plunked it down in front of him, and picked up the blood-stained towel. “So, what's got your buckskins in a twist?” Her voice hinted that she already knew.

  He regarded her stonily. The woman had an uncanny ability to read minds. “What I do not need right now is a lecture by some armchair psychologist.” He jetted out a breath. “Or a medicine woman, either,” he added in concession to their tenuous cultural bond. He'd always suspected she had some Indian blood, though she delighted in denying it.

  “Suit yourself, Creek.” She shrugged, and ambled back behind the bar.

  “Cree,” he muttered morosely. “I'm just up a creek.”

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Forty-One

  Maggie covered her ears and groaned. It was impossible to escape the irritating, nails-on-chalkboard sound floating up from below.

  Damn it! She could have sworn she’d ordered Cooper to move his damn campsite! Why was he still here, filling up the quiet night air with his infernal racket?

  The singing had started shortly after he arrived back from Gina's, and had been going on for a good hour-and-a-half now, with no end in sight.

  Did she say singing? What she really meant was caterwauling.

  At first she’d thought the chanting was pleasant. Cooper's deep voice had been surprisingly soothing—especially after her nerve-wracking experience with him earlier. When he’d ridden up, she’d been terrified he’d come bounding up the tower stairs to confront her. Not that it would have mattered—the blue sedan guy had spooked her so badly, she’d pulled every piece of furniture in the cab in front of the door to block it. But Cooper had gone straight to his camp, without sparing the tower so much as a single glance. She knew, because she’d been watching.

  Gradually, her frayed nerves had calmed to the sound. His chanting had wrapped an appropriately primitive aura around their isolated surroundings, imbuing the forest with its tranquility, and restoring her equilibrium.

  The moonrise had been magnificent, the black sky mellowing to a rich midnight blue, spangled by twinkling silver stars. The soft, rhythmic singing wafting up from the lakeside made watching the moon rising up through the dark forest trees a near mystical experience.

  After a while, however, the chanting took on a different, almost strained, quality. Occasionally it would stop, only to be taken up even more vigorously a few minutes later.

  Despite the moon and the stars, the sparking red glow of Cooper’s campfire was the only thing discernible down on the ground. And the moon soon deserted her, apparently getting enough of the ungodly noise, and moved on to more peaceful territory behind the high clouds.

  The man was uncanny. He had no need for guns, torture, or any other means of intimidation. She would do anything he wanted, anything, if he would just cease that infernal chanting.

  The really ironic thing was, even before he came back and started his vigil, she'd decided to tell him about the battery. Her secret was already out, anyway. Somehow, he’d found out about Dinny. How much he knew about her situation with the FBI was uncertain. But if she told him about finding the battery, and why she’d taken it, maybe he'd believe her, and leave her alone.

  For the tenth time, she stomped out onto the catwalk to glare down at him. He was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, facing the lake, as he had been for nearly two hours now, a black shadow against the darkly shimmering water—stark, unmoving.

  She could see heat rising from the hole in the top of the small, round tent that lay a few yards from his sleeping tent. Could it be a sweat hut? She’d read about them, but had never seen one in person.

  She stood at the rail, and drummed her fingers in irritation. She had tried everything—ignoring the chanting, humming along, humming something else, becoming one with it, holding a pillow over her head.

  She was right on the verge of screaming down to him, “You win! I surrender!” when, abruptly, the chanting stopped.

  She watched in suspense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  He sat for a few minutes in silence, then rose and stalked to his sleeping tent. The beam of a flashlight flailed against the green nylon as his black shape crouched and maneuvered inside. Then he emerged and prowled to the round hut, dropping a small, square object several feet in front of it. She heard a sharp crack as the tent flap was lifted, then snapped shut.

  Alrighty, then.

  She tried her best not to imagine Cooper sitting nude in a cloud of steam, rivulets of sweat trickling down his virile, masculine body. Or the heated flush of his smooth skin over iron-hard muscle. Or his slumbering cock reposing between hot, powerful, naked thighs.

  With a groan, she licked her lips and closed her eyes, unconsciously tipping her face up to re-live his scorching kiss in her mind.

  God, he tasted good.

  And she was such a damned liar. She didn't need hypnosis to want his kiss. To want all of him.

  For a moment, the forest was mercifully peaceful and still. Then, all at once, the calm, crisp night air was shattered by the strident clash of electric guitars.

  A rough voice cut through the darkness, demanding, “American woman, stay away from me!”

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Forty-Two

  Lieutenant Blue Wolf Cooper hunched down in the furnace of his small sweat lodge and felt the heat assault the wound-up springs of his muscles. He poured clear water over the hot rocks he'd brought in earlier from his fire ring, and reveled in the punishment of the steam against his glistening skin.

  The harsh music streaming out of his MP3 player soothed his jangled nerves on this night as no Cree hunting song possibly could.

  Grizzly Bear Woman, that's what Maggie was. An evil sorceress who’d cast a spell on him. That was why he couldn't get the beautiful, deceitful, wasichu woman out of his head.

  Just let her dare come to him in the sweat lodge. Let the grizzly bear woman come, and he'd do his own version of the tent shaking ceremony.

  He jetted out a breath. Damn it to hell. He needed to empty his mind, and become Blue Wolf. So he could accept the dreams he hoped would be sent by Memekwesiw, the Owner of the Bears, the Owner of All the Animals.

  He’d sung tonight until his throat was raw. He had sung to ask for help in searching for the poachers.

  Yeah, okay, that wasn't the sort of thing traditionally asked for in hunting songs. But bears were the special messengers of Memekwesiw, so, surel
y, the Owner would help him find the desecrators of his spirit helpers.

  Coop didn't know if he really believed all this, but his forefathers had, and right now he could use all the help he could get. He had also lived long enough to know there were many things in this world that couldn't be explained by modern science, and he wasn't willing to discard the old ways simply because they didn't seem rational or logical in the sense the white man's society taught.

  Or because they’d never worked for him before.

  Before earlier this evening, at any rate...

  When the strident beat of his mix ended, he was much more relaxed. The old rock tunes had purged the woman from his consciousness as the cleansing sweat had removed the toxins from his body.

  The purifying heat had defeated her magic.

  He eased out a breath of satisfaction.

  He would sweat for a while longer, then go out and immerse himself in the chilly waters of the lake. Afterward, he would go to his tent and lie down. He would again hang his medicine bag in the taawpwaataakan—the dreaming place—and he would sleep.

  Perhaps tonight the dreams would come.

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Forty-Three

  An eerie calm enveloped Tower Eight when, at last, Cooper's camp fell silent. Maggie pulled her nightgown over her head and buttoned it all the way up to the top. After double-checking the locked and blocked door, she snuggled under the quilt and closed her eyes.

  An hour later, sleep still evaded her. She tossed and turned, and couldn't get comfortable. She couldn't stop thinking about him. Or the lovemaking they had shared in her smoky mind.

  How would she rid herself of that blissful memory? Of the realization that she was drawn to him as she had never been to any other man? That she was in imminent danger of giving him anything he asked of her, just to be near him?