by Rachel Lee
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.
Chapter 4
In the morning, Kel didn’t need a neon sign to tell him that Desi was angry about something. The tension in the air was incredibly thick, her answers or statements about anything, even coffee, were short and abrupt.
He hardly knew the woman, and maybe this was her morning mood. But from the way her gaze kept sliding away from him, he was quite sure it was more than that. Namely, it was something he’d said or done.
But what? They hadn’t had that much interaction last night. The deputy had stopped by, it seemed like a pleasant visit, then Desi had gone back to her room for the night.
Somewhere in there he had seriously screwed something up. Or maybe it didn’t take much with her. How the hell would he know?
So he let it ride, figuring that if she had a problem with him she’d spit it out sooner or later. She didn’t seem particularly reluctant to express herself.
“Time to go,” she said when the kitchen had been tidied. She pushed a key across the counter. “This will get you in my door and the bunkhouse door.”
“Thanks.”
Then she was pulling on her belt and jacket over her red shirt, and striding toward the door. Feeling off-kilter, he followed, wishing he knew what the hell was going on.
“You have your work and I have mine,” she said when they reached the foot of the stairs. “See you whenever.”
He knew when he was dismissed. Without a wo
rd, he climbed into his own truck and watched her tear away. He had no idea where she was going, although it clearly wasn’t to the ground-floor office.
Nor did he really have any idea what he was supposed to do himself that day. Waiting for roaches to crawl out of the woodwork might take a while. He was here only because so much of the recent trophy hunting had happened up in those mountains over the last two years. No reason to assume it would continue this year, not in large numbers.
But they were taking the chance that it would, and hearing a bighorn had already been killed illegally up there seemed to confirm it.
Another couple of weeks. The ring would get some time to locate him, then he was taking two guys up into the mountains on a hunt. That they’d be undercover, too, would only increase the likelihood that the ring would believe there was competition.
And that he might have other guides working with him, because the nature of his ads were changing a little at a time, hinting he could provide guides anywhere in the state.
A bigger threat. Much bigger. But for now, time hung heavy on his hands, leaving him too much opportunity to wonder about Desi.
Not knowing what else to do, he drove into town to make himself visible. He had to be found to get the game on.
* * *
God, that had been tense, Desi thought as she drove away from the office. The trouble was, she wasn’t good at hiding her genuine feelings except when in her role as a warden. Somehow those barriers didn’t cover times when things got personal. A failing? Probably.
How much time did she spend cultivating light but friendly relationships? A whole bunch. But now she couldn’t even bring herself to talk to Kel. He was a colleague. She ought to be able to deal with this, so what was wrong with her?
Pulling out her cell phone before she got out of range of a tower, she called the office and checked her voice mail. Nothing. She hadn’t expected anything, though, because there was an extension line upstairs in her apartment so she wouldn’t miss night calls. She hadn’t even really thought about it, though, because she was in such a hurry to get away from Kel.
Because he had lied to Sarah. Because he had lied easily. Maybe it had been necessary, but how could she trust him now?
Aw, hell, she told herself. Forget it. Bury the attraction she’d been feeling and keep it all on a business level. That was where it belonged. After all, the guy had come out here to dangle himself as bait in hopes of shutting down an illegal operation, one that might have been responsible for that trophy bighorn. Nothing else mattered but getting the job done and protecting the wildlife.
Right. She’d been slipping off course. Time now for a correction. What’s more, she needed to get herself sorted out before she returned later. She hadn’t revoked Kel’s access to the bunkhouse. No, she’d given him a key, mainly because the story making the rounds would be that he was an old friend. Her fault for starting that one.
And because he’d mentioned that it might be helpful if he appeared to by cozying up to the warden. Well, of course it would. She didn’t need an explanation for that.
She was heading along the back roads that led up into the mountains, across the public lands that were so popular for hunting. There might be some licenses to check, and other activities that needed attention. Until her radio sounded, she was picking her own routes and duties.
The longer she drove, however, the more her internal argument grew. She’d told Jos yesterday that Kel was an old friend. What had he done that was so much worse? A tiny bit of embellishment, but not much. His cover had to be protected.
So why was she so angry with him? Yeah, Sarah was her friend, but so was Jos. Either one would understand the need for secrecy if the truth came out later.
Maybe she was overreacting, although she wasn’t usually the overreaction type. So why react so strongly to a necessary little bit of lying?
Because she needed a reason to dislike Kel that might be stronger than her attraction to him?
Feeling suddenly gut punched, she pulled over to the side of the road and rolled down her window so she could listen to the soft sigh of the breeze in the evergreens.
She had never believed herself to be the kind who could play such mental games with herself. She didn’t like the idea at all. Yet, it held a ring of truth.
God, couldn’t she deal with her attraction without inventing other problems?
But lying...lying was at the top of her list of personal crimes. Little white lies were one thing. Bigger lies were something else. The question was why she wanted to put Kel’s story into the bigger category. He was doing what he had to. Part of his job.
Surely she could swallow that?
Putting her truck back into gear, she pulled onto the road and started wandering again. It wasn’t long before she saw two pickups pulled to the side. The sight relieved her. She needed to work, and checking some hunting licenses would be just the thing.
* * *
Kel wandered Conard City. It was much like other towns of its size in Wyoming except that it hadn’t succumbed to tourism...yet. The streets weren’t lined with all kinds of eateries—there was only one right now—and it had avoided the proliferation of taverns and whatnot shops that almost crushed the Western flavor of some of the towns he’d visited.
Must be too far off the beaten track, still. He liked it.
When he stopped in the diner, he fell into some conversation and let it be known he was an outfitter and was thinking of branching into this area. Nobody seemed especially bothered by the idea, and one guy said he’d love a job if the opportunity arose.
“Depends on how much business we get,” Kel answered. “You do much hunting?”
Well, that encouraged a long ramble. Short take: the man was an experienced hunter and a couple of years ago had won a moose license in the drawing. Now he was after a bighorn permit, maybe next year.
Kel dutifully wrote the information in a pocket notebook and promised to keep the guy’s name and number.
Drinking coffee at Maude’s diner, as everyone called the City Diner, seemed to be a good way to get in touch around here. The locals weren’t standoffish, and soon he was included in a discussion about the bighorn trophy that had been recently taken.
To a man, the people who were talking were appalled by the meat wastage. It was interesting to him that they were more outraged by that than the poaching that went with it.
Although none of them approved of poaching, and made it clear to him almost as if they were warning him, it was leaving the meat behind that really offended them.
Then one of them asked him point-blank, “If you take people on trophy hunts, will you take the meat as well?”
“Of course,” he answered vehemently. That was entirely truthful. He never would waste meat. He’d seen too much real hunger to ever waste food again.
That seemed to win him some approval.
“It’s the law,” said a wizened man who looked almost as old as the mountains. “Never got this trophy hunting idea. When me and my dad went hunting, it was for the meat. Even before all them laws, nobody took more than they could eat. Went entire winters on venison jerky.”
Kel resisted speaking, waiting for someone else to state the obvious. A guy with a long beard finally did.
“If everyone had been like you and your Dad, Ed, we wouldn’t need all them laws. Folk fished the river dry, and nearly wiped out the moose and elk.”
Ed grumbled. “I get it. The old days ain’t never coming back.”
Some of the men chuckled. Then Ed looked at Kel. “So why you doing it?”
“Leading hunts?”
“Hunts for trophies.”
Kel shrugged one shoulder. “A man’s gotta make a living, Ed. Long as they have a permit and we don’t waste the meat, it’s no different from anyone else.”
One guy slapped his knee and chortled. “Sure enough it is. The out-of-state hunters need hand-holding and guiding. Never be able to do it without guys like you.”
Kel nodded. “No argument. But it makes jobs, makes money that gets spent locally and the license fees are high, so it helps in conservation efforts.”
At that point, Kel realized these men were coming to like him. Good. If they got wind of anything, they might let him know. He needed ears locally, ears besides Desi’s.
“So you’re staying with Desi Jenks?” one guy asked.
“Old friend. And I’m staying in the bunkhouse.”
More laughs, but one man nodded, saying, “She’s a good one, that woman. Makes you smile when you get caught with too many fish.”
Guffaws answered that.
Desi had done her job well, Kel thought later as he resumed his stroll around town. Judging by the group he’d just talked to, she was well liked. That was important to a warden who couldn’t have eyes on every acre or in the back of her head. She had to rely on people to report it when they saw something wrong.
As for him, he figured he’d set his hook. He wondered how long it would be before he started getting nibbles.
* * *
There was no such day where Desi didn’t have a full plate. She got called to take care of an eagle that had been struck through the wing by a bow hunter. The bird was trying to drag itself along the ground. The hunter was probably nearly as distraught as the eagle and she talked him down a bit while she got her gear. She felt for him, but her real concern was the bird.
She donned her protective gloves and safety glasses, covered the bird’s eyes, used shears to cut the ends of the arrow off, and then scooped the big angry bird into one of the large pet carriers in her truck bed.
Then she eyed the hunter. “How in the name of Mike did you manage that?”
The guy had the grace to look sheepish as well as anguished. And at least he’d called for help for the bird. “I didn’t see it,” he admitted. “I’m kinda rusty so I was shooting at tree trunks but one of my arrows flew too high and next thing...”