Gray Wolf Security: Wyoming

by Glenna Sinclair

  It scared me. Made me wonder if something from the past was trying to catch up to me.

  Lance moved up behind me, smelling of the smoke from the fire he just started for us in the center of the camp. Most of my help had moved closer to it, holding out their gloved hands for a touch of warmth. The temperature had to have been down in the teens already, a cold night for this sort of thing. But we had all the modern conveniences, things the cowboys these people supposedly admired so much never could have dreamt of.

  "What can I do to help?" he asked, his lips so close to my ear I could feel the heat of his breath.

  I stepped forward, putting a little space between us even though my body was screaming for the heat that came from the length of his body.

  "You can take those potatoes and drop them around the fire."

  "No problem."

  I watched him walk away, watched the way his ass moved in those jeans, just visible under the hem of his heavy jacket. God, he was so good looking! It was so unfair! How was I supposed to stop thinking about him when temptation was right there, this need to run my hand along those tight buns--

  "He's pretty cute, isn't he?" Janice asked as she came up beside me. "Reminds me a little of my first husband."

  Janice was an executive from New York with a cowboy fetish, it seemed. She'd talked non-stop about the expectations she'd had when she decided on this little vacation package. And how disappointed she was that the other cowboy—Hank, I supposed—had backed out of coming along.

  "First?"

  "There's been three. The first one was an Italian playboy who ended up running off with some senator's wife. Big disappointment, but he was certainly pretty to look at."

  I nodded, finding it almost impossible to pull my eyes from Lance as he bent to arrange the potatoes around the fire. His dark hair fell into his eyes and he blew at it, trying to get it out of the way even though his hands were full. One of the other ladies, a woman in her early twenties, reached over and pushed it back for him. He smiled up at her, that charming smile I thought he used exclusively on me. It had the same effect on her, making her blush even as she said something I couldn't hear to him. I just hid it better, I supposed.

  "He likes you," Janice said. "I don't know if you know that."

  "I know."

  "So why don't you go over there, put your mark on him? I would before some little thing like that turns his head."

  "It's complicated."

  "Life is complicated. Sex isn't." Janice winked as she turned to go. "That's only complicated when you let it."

  I couldn't get those words out of my head as Lance and I worked side by side making dinner. Our hands would accidentally touch or our shoulders would brush and I wanted to say something, do something, to fix the tension that I could feel coming from him. I caught him looking at that blond tart who'd brushed the hair out of his face and found myself wondering if his crush on me was so tentative that one no could break the connection that had brought him out into the barn time after time just to spend a little time in my company.

  Not that I wanted him to continue coming on to me. It was hard enough pushing him away the other night. I wasn't sure I could do it again.

  Or was that what I was hoping for? Did I want him to do it again? Did I want to take him up on his offer, make things even more complicated than they already were and blame it on his persistence? Blame it on the fact that I hadn't been with a man in almost eleven years, that I missed being close to another human being, that I so desperately needed to feel the way I had when he kissed me, when his hands—

  "Becks? I think that chicken is ready," concern dripping from his tone as he studied my face. "You okay?"

  "Distracted much?" little blondie said as I grabbed the hot pan and carried it over to the table.

  "Soup's on!" I called.

  "Aww, you're not going to hit a triangle to call us to dinner?"

  Did I say this weekend was going to be relaxing? I meant it was going to be a damn nightmare!

  We ate and cleaned up as a group despite the increasing volume of the complaining. When it was finally time to turn in, most everyone disappeared without much prompting. I curled up in a camp chair, pulling a warm blanket up over my denim covered legs, wishing I'd thought to put on long johns this morning. I hadn't thought it would be necessary, but the chill was getting to me a bit more than I'd expected. But I wasn't ready to go to bed just yet. Little blondie was one of my assigned tent mates.

  I watched the fire dance in its pit, remembering how as a child I used to see shapes and animals in those flames. We made a game out of it, trying to see how many different things we could each see in a matter of minutes. I always won. My mother said that was proof that I had an amazing imagination.

  You'll be an artist someday.

  I wasn't an artist. I hadn't drawn a single sketch in years. But I could still see shapes in the fire and I could still feel the weight of a piece of charcoal in my fingers as I pressed it against a piece of heavy paper. I could still see the images I once drew, could still feel the pride that came with the completion of each piece. It was a feeling nothing else had ever compared to.

  It was funny the things you had to leave in the past when survival was all that mattered.

  "A penny for your thoughts."

  I hadn't realized that Lance was still up. I hadn't realized anyone was still up.

  "I was just trying to see how many shapes the flames could make."

  "What?"

  I shook my head. "It's just a silly game we played when I was a kid."

  "You and all your siblings?" Lance pulled up a chair and settled down beside me. "Or your friends?"

  "You're a curious one, aren't you?"

  "It tickles my investigator's bone when someone tries so hard to avoid answering personal questions."

  "Investigator's bone?"

  He shrugged. "I do work security for a living."

  "True. I've just never heard it put quite that way."

  He leaned close to me. "Why don't you like talking about yourself? Is it shyness? Or are you hiding a dark, nefarious past?"

  "Oh, definitely the nefarious thing. Don't I look like an evil criminal?"

  He regarded me closely, his eyes moving slowly over my face, almost uncomfortably slowly, before dipping down over the rest of me hidden like a lump under my blanket.

  "You look like..." I thought for a minute he might say something that was a little too close to the truth for comfort. But then he cracked a smile. "You look like a beautiful, kind, gentle, sexy, erotic—"

  I slapped his shoulder and he laughed. But I was self-centered enough to be happy that he was still flirting with me, glad that he hadn't lost interest.

  "But seriously," he said, leaning close to me again, "why are you afraid of letting anyone close? Even Sutherland doesn't seem to know much about your past."

  "The past doesn't matter, does it?"

  "Well, depends on how you look at it. Like the fact that I have five brothers and sisters. That kind of tells you why I have the patience of Job."

  I had to agree with that. He was incredibly patient, especially when it came to this little flirtation game he was playing with me.

  "So, knowing that makes it easier for me to understand you?"

  "Exactly."

  "Then you need to know how many siblings I have in order to understand why I work with horses or why I treat my daughter the way I do?"

  "It helps."

  "How?"

  He shrugged. "People have this need to know everything about each other. And when they know someone's entire history, they feel like they know them better. I don't know why. It's just the way it works."

  "So, if I never tell you about my past, you'll never feel like you know everything about me even if we were to get married and stay together for thirty years?"

  "That's right."

  "Bullshit."

  His mouth dropped open and he stared at me like he was an ultra-Christian and I'd just take
n the Lord's name in vain. Shock didn't even begin to describe this look.

  "What?" I asked, fighting a gale of giggles.

  "You actually think I'd lie to you?"

  "You don't need to know about my past to know me. I could tell you a bunch of lies right now and you'd buy them and you'd think you knew me. And when I die in forty years, you'll still believe you knew me better than anyone else."

  "True, as long as I never found out they were lies. But if I found out they were lies, then I would doubt everything you ever told me because that's how it works."

  "That's stupid. You can't spend a lifetime with someone and truly know everything about them, but that doesn't mean that it was all lies or that you never knew them. We aren't just the sum of our experiences. There's other stuff there, too."

  "True. But do you think it's possible to know someone completely with whom you've never asked about their past?"

  "I don't ask people about their past."

  "You asked how many siblings I have."

  "That was just a conversation filler."

  "You could have filled the conversation with a dozen other things. Why that question?"

  He had me there.

  I inclined my head. "Okay. You're right." I made a little wave of my hand. "I concede to the master."

  "And my prize should be a few answers to a few simple questions."

  A touch of panic started in the center of my chest. I pulled the blanket up closer to my face, trying to hide that from him.

  "How many siblings do you have?"

  That was an easy question.

  "Two."

  "Brothers or sisters?"

  "One of each."

  "Are you the youngest?"

  My eyebrows rose as I regarded him. "How'd you know that?"

  "Lucky guess." He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as he regarded me. "You grew up on a farm or a ranch, right?"

  That was a little more dangerous. I chewed on my bottom lip as I considered the safest answer.

  "It was a farm of sorts."

  "You raised horses."

  And then I was done. He was coming too close, his guesses way too close to the truth and I couldn't... if he learned these things about me, what would stop him from learning the big stuff? And I couldn't do that. Not now. I liked it here, loved Sutherland, loved the horses. I didn't want to move on again.

  I stood up, dragging the blanket up around my shoulders.

  "Time for bed. We have to be up early to make breakfast."

  "It's barely ten."

  "You've got to be exhausted from the ride."

  He stood, stretching a little to show that the soreness had eased. I started to walk away, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me against his chest, our heavy jackets the only thing stopping out bodies from the intimacy his dark eyes were begging for.

  "What are you so afraid of, Becky?"

  I shook my head, but I knew it would be stupid to lie now.

  "You'd never understand. Your life is an open book, you have no secrets, nothing in your past that you aren't proud of."

  "Is that what it is? What did you do? Get arrested? Pledge the wrong sorority?"

  He was making a joke of something he didn't understand. I tried to pull away, but he tugged me close to him again.

  "I like you, Becky. I like you, I adore your daughter, and I really think we could be stronger together. Quite pushing me away."

  "You have no idea what you're asking of me."

  "I'm asking for everything."

  "But you don't know what everything is."

  "Tell me, then."

  I stared up into those warm, dark eyes and I wanted to tell him. In all these years, that moment was the closest I'd ever come to telling someone—anyone—my secrets. But I couldn't because I knew the moment the secrets were out, I couldn't take them back. And I didn't want to put that burden on him.

  It wasn't fair.

  "We're colleagues. I'd appreciate it if you'd just keep things that way."

  Hurt flashed in his eyes, but he nodded.

  "Okay."

  He let me go and held his hands up so I could see that he wasn't going to stop me from walking away. I ducked into my assigned tent and curled up in my sleeping bag, clothes and all, the heel of my hand against my mouth. Tears that I thought I'd finished shedding a long time ago poured down my cheeks.

  It wasn't fair. I didn't want this, didn't want to be alone for the rest of my life. I didn't want him to give up so easily, didn't want to feel this way and have to pretend it didn't matter.

  Maybe it was time to move on again. Maybe I'd grow too comfortable here. Maybe it would be better for everyone if Cassidy and I found a new life, a new home, a new career.

  Like that would really change anything...

  Chapter 8

  Lance

  She avoided me all the next morning, working alone in caring for the horses and preparing breakfast. She didn't want me close to her, wouldn't even look me in the eye. I didn't understand what the big deal was, but it was clearly a big deal to her.

  "How's everyone feeling?" Becky called out, standing in the middle of the camp as she waited for the group to assemble. A few people called out grumbling responses—lots of soreness, everyone was cold—but mostly just nods or shrugs.

  "We'll be hiking down into the canyon today. Some of the cowhands from MidKnight Ranch have reported seeing red foxes and some white-tailed deer in the area. With any luck, we might spot them, too." She lifted her digital camera. "Brought this along just in case. If you have one, you might want to bring it. Also, make sure your canteens are full."

  More murmurs, but everyone seemed to be excited at the prospect of getting out and doing something. The temperatures were rising, were supposed to be closer to thirty today, so their spirits were rising a little. Tonight, however, it was supposed to get down near zero. I flipped off the radio before anyone could hear that little bit of news. I knew the grumbles would be outright complaining at that news even with the battery-operated heaters.

  We headed out and I was kind of stoked because hiking was something I could do with confidence. I hiked a lot in the Army and under some uncomfortable conditions, so this was nothing compared to that. If this little blonde would just leave me alone...

  "Her optimism is a little annoying," she said as we headed out. "I don't give a damn what animals we might see as long as they stay the hell away from me. I didn't come on this little adventure to be mauled by a bear or something."

  "Not a lot of bears out here, especially in January."

  "Yeah, well, foxes bite, right?"

  I glanced at her, wondering if she was really this paranoid. The guy she was here with kept shooting us these funny looks, like he was almost hoping we'd hook up so he'd be rid of her. I completely got that feeling. I made a lame excuse and moved closer to the front of the pack, listening to Becky give a little information about the area. She knew more about this part of the ranch than anyone else, her knowledge proving that she had a passion for the place that was second only to Sutherland. I'd heard she'd only worked for Sutherland for five years, the longest of all her current employees except for the foreman, Shelby, but not nearly long enough to show such passion. Made me wonder how desperately homesick Becky really was.

  What was the big deal about her past? What was she hiding?

  It had started as a game, but now? I was really beginning to wonder if there was something dark in Becky's past that she was trying to outrun.

  I knew a lot of guys like that in the Army. Most of them eventually told someone their story, even if it was just the guy in the next bunk. People cannot keep secrets, it goes against their basic nature. The longer someone keeps a secret, the more likely it is to come out.

  When would Becky's secret find sunlight?

  We walked down into the canyon and followed the path of an old river bed, the crunch of the rocks under our feet echoing off the walls of the canyon around us. Becky spotted evidence of the foxe
s, but we never saw anything. We did spot a couple of deer, but they were too nervous to stand still to have their photographs taken. By the time we turned around and headed back to camp, everyone was pretty much ready to head back to camp and get into the beer one of the prep team had snuck into a couple of the coolers.

  Becky fell back as we headed up the wall of the canyon, supposedly to help the slower hikers, but I figured it was to get away from me. Once again, she was avoiding even looking at me, let alone acknowledging my very existence. I was getting to the point where I would have been a fool if I didn't admit she really wasn't interested. As much as it hurt my ego, it was time to admit I was never going to charm her into so much as a first date, let alone anything beyond that.

  It was done. I should be, too.

  I was one of the first to step into the camp. He was sitting in the same chair Becky had commandeered as her own last night, leaning forward and searching through one of our supply boxes. He had blond hair that was a jumble of curls, a yellow blond that was beginning to whiten at the temples, though you could only tell when he turned his hair to the light in a certain way. His eyes were green and his five o'clock shadow was darker than his curls might have suggested, but then and splotchy. He smiled when he caught me watching him, climbing to his feet like it was a chore to do so.

  He wasn't very tall, kind of slightly below average, really. Narrow shoulders and a wide waist, the jeans and heavy jacket he was wearing clearly straight out of a western supply store. He looked more like a tourist than the tourist we'd guided out here. And his awkward smile seemed to acknowledge that. But the gun I could clearly see at his waist belied it.

  "Can I help you?"

  The man stepped forward and held out his hand to me. "I'm Grant Kennedy."

  My eyebrows rose. "This is private property. I don’t know how you--"

  "Oh, well, I'm with the FBI." He pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his pants and held it up so that I could see his identification. "I got a tip that a suspect is in the area. I have reason to believe she's among your group here."