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

  He nodded. “There was also an incident with a bow and arrow down in New York.”

  So it was true. His cousin really was a terrorist.

  Cooper cleared his throat. “Anyway. I didn't agree with Bernie's methods, but I agreed with the sentiment. With its short-sightedness, the government wiped out our band's whole way of life. I looked on it as a sort of badge of honor when the FBI down here branded me a sympathizer.” He gave a wry, humorless laugh. “Of course, it was easy to be unconcerned when the stupid bureaucrats filed me under my clan name, Cooper Blue Wolf, instead of my legal one.”

  “You feel guilty because you didn't blow up dams, too?”

  “No.” he exhaled. “Yes.” He looked at her and shrugged. “Story of my life. Split between two worlds.”

  She thought of her own Danish parents who had come to this country just a few years before her birth. She understood well the feeling of being a cultural ping pong ball, but couldn't imagine being bounced between two so unbelievably different ways of life. European cultures had their quirks, but not one of them was a hunter-gatherer culture living on traplines.

  She nodded, gazing into his bottomless eyes. They were filled with pain and hope and determination. “It's lonely in that place, isn't it?” she said gently.

  “I’ve been in worse.” He pulled her onto his lap. “You don't know how much it hurt when I thought I'd have to arrest you.”

  She slid her arms around his neck. “I think I have an idea.” Snuggling in his lap, she thought about the dams wiping out his family's livelihood. “Boy, and I thought poaching a few bears was bad.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Poaching bears is bad,” he said. “It's the same thing as the dam projects, just on a smaller scale. A few people decide their own need for money is greater than the need to preserve the important things for our grandchildren.”

  She kissed him back. A frisson of hope went through her. “Our grandchildren?”

  Smiling, he set her on her feet and went to make the coffee. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

  Irrational disappointment crashed in on her, and she sat down again with a thunk.

  Damn it, she needed a serious reality check. She didn't even know what the next day would bring, and here she was dreaming of picket fences and grandkids.

  Besides, the man wasn't interested in picket fences. Every time she brought up the subject of the future, Cooper skillfully deflected it. She acknowledged she had little chance to be with him in the short term. But she had hoped maybe in the long term...

  Their lovemaking had not nearly satisfied the deep longing she felt for the man. Touching him only made the ache more acute, since she now knew just what she'd be losing when they parted.

  Grandkids, right.

  She smiled weakly. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

  He set her coffee in front of her. “Well, enough philosophizing. Let's finish eating and go to Gina's. I want to nose around a bit and see if we can find anyone else who knew about those ear tags.”

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Ninety-Three

  When Maggie walked into Gina's with Cooper, his arm casually draped over her shoulders, seven sets of eyes swiveled to them with knowing looks. Maggie quickly assessed the situation, and realized there was no way to avoid the inevitable ribbing.

  Well, that suited her fine. She was feeling moody. Maybe she’d even pick a fight, to get rid of some of this frustrated tension. The guys could take it. They did it all the time amongst themselves. Tonight it was her turn.

  She should be grateful Cooper was choosing to keep his distance. But his refusal to speak of a future together weighed on her more than she wanted to admit. More than she had any right to ask. Yet, there it was.

  The fact that there was a very real possibility that a future together would be totally impossible—well, that was irrelevant. He had no way of knowing that. As far as he was concerned, she was single, available, and open to whatever developed between them with no obstacles in the way.

  Which was, no doubt, the whole problem. He must want those obstacles.

  He was a cool one, that Blue Wolf Cooper. She had given him two perfect openings to tell her what he was thinking. She’d even asked him directly the first time. But he’d remained totally silent rather than committing himself to being with her for more than one day at a time.

  The hurt she'd been nursing at the bottom of her consciousness for the past few hours had started making itself felt on the truck ride to Gina's. It now roiled like a tempest right below the surface.

  Was it so unreasonable to want to know where she stood? If he'd still want her after he solved the case? If there was a prayer he’d wait for her to return to him after the trial?

  Apparently.

  “Where have you two been all day?” Pete asked as Cooper led her to a chair and pulled it out for her.

  On his way to the bar for another pitcher, Phil called back, “Yeah, Maggie, you had the dispatcher worried last night when she couldn't get hold of you.”

  Cooper gave her shoulder a squeeze, then strolled down to the only other empty chair—which was at the opposite end of the table.

  Excellent. So she could glare at him.

  “They must have been too busy getting hold of each other,” said Pete with a snicker.

  Obviously a bunch of new age sensitive type guys, since they had so clearly picked up on the tension arcing between her and Cooper.

  Not.

  Phil snorted. “Real busy, from what I hear. Gus and I ran into some guys at the Caf this morning looking for him. They said they couldn't raise Coop last night, either.”

  “Funny,” Maggie said in a studied voice, holding her expression in a portrait of maidenly innocence. “I didn't have any trouble at all raising Cooper last night.”

  The men coughed, and those drinking spit beer. She tilted her head to one side and looked at him from beneath her lashes as he lounged in his chair. “Did I, Wolf?”

  A wary smile slid across his otherwise neutral face. “None, whatsoever.”

  The table exploded in a howl of laughter.

  Phil returned with a pitcher in one hand and something else in the other, which he set in front of Cooper with a flourish. “I heard you lost this. Thought you might need it later.”

  It was an aerosol can of whipped cream. Judging by Cooper's expression, Jack wasn't long for this world.

  But it gave Maggie an idea. A really wicked one. Idly, she stirred her beer with a finger. Then she pulled it out of the liquid and slowly licked it. “Why don't you pass that can on down here, sweetheart? I've got a hankering to try it right now.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his hand paused for a moment before he handed the can to the man next to him, who gleefully passed it along until it reached her. Cooper's expression remained reserved but watchful, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Getting a little nervous, Wolf? Good. Maybe this will ruffle your fur a bit.

  She shook the can slowly and deliberately, wearing a tiny smile for his benefit. Breaking eye contact for a moment, she squirted a dollop onto the end of her finger, then looked up at him and put her lips around it.

  His brows drew together, and his gaze strafed the guys at the table. She noted with satisfaction that their attention to her was rapt. “Mmm. Not bad.” She squeezed out another bead of whipped cream down the length of the finger, then raised her eyes to his.

  Leave me and weep, cowboy.

  There were grunts up and down the table as she put her tongue at the base of her finger and languorously dragged it up to the very tip, gathering cream as it went.

  Cooper leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms tightly. As she swallowed, his jaw clamped shut. She licked an errant drop of cream off her lip, and watched as one of his facial muscles jumped wildly.

  I'm yours, Wolf. Just tell me you want me. For always.

  Looking dangerous, he said, “We'll play later, baby.” He jerked a thumb at a table on the other side of the juke box. �
��I see Sally and Theresa over there. Why don't you go see if they want some company?”

  She let her gaze wander up and down the foresters lining the table, ending with Cooper. He looked ready to launch.

  Oh, what the hell. She'd made her point. Didn't want the man going windigo on her.

  “Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you say.” She picked up her beer and, with a swirl of her skirt, she sauntered off without a backward glance.

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Ninety-Four

  Sullenly, Cooper watched Maggie's retreat—along with every other man at the table. He could smell the sweat from the heat she had generated among them.

  Sweetheart? What the hell was that all about?

  He was absolutely furious with her for flaunting their relationship in such a cheap way in front of the men. And her deliberate use of Dinny Phillip's endearment made it ten times worse.

  He scowled ferociously. She had just demonstrated that she could have any man there tonight. Was she putting him in his place? Showing him how futile it was for him to hope for anything lasting with her? Had she already rejected his plea for more time, deciding he wasn't worth bothering with?

  He eased up the pressure on his beer glass, realizing how close it was to shattering in his hand.

  Justin let out a low whistle. “Whew. Somebody check me for scorch marks.”

  “Oh, man,” Phil said. “Coop, what's your secret? She's a totally different person.”

  “That was one red hot woman,” Pete agreed.

  “She looked pissed off to me,” said Gus mildly.

  Phil grinned. “If that was pissed off, I'd keep her mad all the time, if I were you, Coop.”

  Coop forced himself to wipe his scowl away and grin back. “Maggie seemed pretty happy all day. But who can tell with women?”

  Anxious to change the subject to the one he had come to discuss—so he could haul her ass back home—he pulled the bear ear tag from his pocket and tossed it on the table. “I found this fishing yesterday. Anybody know what it is?”

  Everyone leaned in to get a look.

  Gus reached over and picked it up. “Isn't this one of those bear tags Rollo Timmons uses in his project?” The battalion chief turned it over in his hand and examined it. “You see a tag on that poached bear you found, Justin?”

  Lifting his beer, Justin gave it a cursory glance and shook his head. “Nope.”

  “A bear tag, eh?” Coop said. “Maybe I should return it to Timmons.” He surreptitiously studied the men, hoping to catch someone looking nervous, or like he knew more than he was telling. No luck.

  Phil leaned back. “If you do, don't take Maggie with you.”

  Taking the tag from Gus, Pete looked at it, shrugged, then passed it on to Justin. “No worries, Coop's got an understanding with Rollo concerning the lovely Maggie, don't you, Coop?” Pete said.

  “Along with any other man who values his hide.” Coop's lazy grin belied the dangerous edge to his voice.

  “Uh-oh.” Phil's laugh broke the sudden tension. “Walk in peace, bro.”

  Justin shook the tag next to his ear, then cracked it open and took a look at the empty battery compartment. After closing it, he tossed it back to Coop. “Sorry. No idea what it is.”

  “Well, I'll ask Timmons if it's his,” Coop said.

  One of the men started a discussion of the newest movie to hit the village theater. Coop darted an aggravated look over at Maggie, wishing he could leave right now and have it out with her. She was sitting at the table with Sally and Theresa, her back to him, twirling a finger in her blond hair.

  How could she be so damn relaxed when he was ready to tear someone's head off?

  Timmons walked into the bar just then, and strolled over to the women's table.

  Just perfect.

  Maggie said something which made him laugh and glance over at Coop. The other man raised a hand in greeting, ignoring the glare that Coop shot back at him. That Timmons took the seat farthest away from Maggie was a small victory, but Coop still wanted to stalk over and punch the guy.

  Maggie, of course, didn’t turn and look at him at all.

  Sally, Theresa, and Timmons left the bar a short time later. Coop felt his bad mood approach critical mass when, instead of coming back to him, Maggie wandered over to the juke box and stood flipping through the selections. With her short jeans skirt and long, pretty legs, she was a target for every male who happened by with an enterprising comment. So far, she had brushed them all off. But for each one, Coop’s temperature skyrocketed even further.

  What was wrong with her?

  A man wearing a silver Raiders cap strolled up and started discussing the choice of music with her, leaning close to her side and oozing with smarm. Cooper's temper hit core meltdown.

  He excused himself from the guys, and went over to claim his woman.

  Barely Dangerous: Chapter Ninety-Five

  Maggie flinched at the hand on her back, and spun around, ready to do battle. “Keep your— Oh! Wolf, it's you.” Her relief at seeing him was short-lived. Her lover’s cobalt eyes sparked with male ire.

  “Get lost,” Cooper said to the man who was trying to pick her up, without taking those angry eyes off her. The stranger didn’t look happy, but he did leave.

  Well, it looked like her stratagem had worked. She'd gotten Cooper's attention, all right. Now if she could just give it a push in the right direction. Make him want her enough to declare his intentions. So she knew where she stood with him. And could make some decisions of her own.

  “Let's go,” he said.

  She resisted. “Wouldn't you like to dance?” She tried to flirt him back to the juke box.

  He leaned in and whispered, “I like to do my dancing naked.” His tongue swept into her ear.

  Her body responded instantly with a bolt of desire that sent shivers straight to her center. She tried to uphold her unattainability in the face of overwhelming odds. “Part of your warrior heritage, I suppose?”

  He stepped back and put his boot up on a nearby chair, draping an arm over his knee. “You claim to like my heritage.” His lips were a thin line.

  She trailed a finger up the dusty toe of his boot, then rubbed her blackened fingertips together. “A bit rough around the edges, but not without appeal.” She smiled coquettishly. “Like that war paint last night. Kinky, but very sexy.” She brushed her gritty finger across his cheek, painting it with a black stripe. “You never told me why you had it on.”

  He looked at her with hooded eyes. “I've heard white women like that sort of thing.”

  An unwelcome shadow of jealousy crept over her. “From firsthand experience, no doubt.”

  Dropping his boot to the floor, he raked over her with knowing eyes. “Yeah. You'd be amazed how many supposedly civilized women have a secret yen to be carried off by a savage warrior.”

  Good God, he was arrogant. “And you saw it as your personal duty to fulfill that fantasy.” She stared at him glacially.

  He caught her arm and reeled her to him, his lips almost touching hers. “It doesn't turn you on to be with a savage?” Without waiting for her response, he pulled her toward the exit. “Come on, baby. Let's take this outside.”

  “I thought you said dragging women off to have your way with them went out with the buffalo.”

  “Unless they ask real pretty.” A sinister smile etched itself over his lips. He crowded her toward the door. “And you've been asking for it since we got here.”

  He propelled her outside.

  “I don't know what you mean,” she said. She kept her distance as he stalked her backward toward her truck.

  “Don't give me that. There wasn't a man in there tonight who didn't have a hard-on after your little whipped cream stunt. Any one of them was ready to take you right on the table if you'd just crooked your little finger.”

  “Well, aren't you lucky I crooked my finger at you.”

  “Is that your game?” His smile was dangerous. “You want me to take you inside o
n the bar?” He grabbed for her and she jumped away, bumping into the truck.

  “Don’t be disgusting.”

  “Maybe if I looked the part...?”

  She watched in horror as he tore off his T-shirt and threw it into the truck bed, then pulled the tie off his ponytail, letting his hair fall wild around his face. He looked every bit the dangerous renegade, his smooth skin glowing blue in the light of Gina's neon sign. He looked predatory, like a wolf.

  A dangerous, unpredictable, blue wolf.

  She backed away from his relentless stalking. “Wolf, please—”

  “No need to beg, baby. You can have every savage inch of me. How about a little kinky atmosphere?” Reaching down to the truck's tailpipe, he raked his fingers over the sooty metal, then brought them to his face, combing black stripes across his forehead and cheeks.

  “Cooper, no.”

  Damn it, she'd done it, now. Somehow, she'd pushed him over the edge. He'd gone windigo.

  A gray compact driven by the man in the Raiders cap pulled up, blocking her path back to Gina's door, so she fled toward the alley.

  Cooper pursued her easily. “Don't tease me, lover. I told you once not to play games with a wolf. You can't give me twelve hours of paradise then jerk it away for no reason. I'm not ready to let you go yet.” He grasped the hem of her skirt and dragged her back to him.

  Paradise? She almost weakened. Only the word “yet” kept her from melting into his embrace.

  Whirling around, she yanked her skirt from his grasp and struggled to free herself from his arm around her waist. “You may like playing the macho warrior, Cooper Blue Wolf, but I have no intention of being just another bead on your coup belt.”

  He stopped in his tracks and stared at her long and hard. “Not much chance of that, little pup. You've been counting coup on me since we met. Besides, isn't it a little late for regrets?”

  “I regret nothing. But I'm not like those other women you play cowboys and Indians with.”

  “Damn straight.” He moved closer to her, backing her far into the dark recesses of the alley beside the bar. “They always let the Indian win.”