“Hank, they’ll kill you.”
Shadoe’s fingers ignited a flame on Hank’s skin. Her touch was magic for him, and he knew if he didn’t turn away, he’d drag her into his arms. “You’ve wasted your time coming here,” he said. “I won’t go back and turn myself in to face a murder charge. I’m innocent.”
Shadoe felt her body warm. Hank was a lawman, not a killer. Whatever else he’d done, he deserved a chance to defend himself. If he went after the wolves alone, he wouldn’t get that chance. “Let me help you.”
“You want to help free the wolves?”
“No, but I want you to live. And if it takes setting the wolves free, then I will.”
“Oh, Shadoe.” Just as he bent his head to kiss her, the trees behind his head exploded into splinters and the delayed whine of a bullet echoed on the morning air.
Dear Reader,
Theyre rugged, theyre strong and theyre wanted! Whether sheriff, undercover cop or officer of the court, these men are trained to keep the peace, to uphold the law. But what happens when they meet the one woman who gets to know the man behind the badge? Twelve of these men are on the loose.and only Harlequin Intrigue brings them to you—one per month in the LAWMAN series. This month, meet U.S. Wildlife Service Agent Hank Emrich, brought to you by seasoned author Caroline Burnes.
For Caroline Burnes, the Montana wilderness where this story is set is part dream and part legend. The release of wolves into the U.S. wilderness captures the conflict of two life-styles Caroline understands and sympathizes with. But she firmly believes that the balance of nature is the key to survival of the planet. Each species is important-and deserves a chance to live. In Midnight Prey, sexy lawman Hank Emrich and Shadoe Deerman, with her Lakota heritage, embody the conflicts being fought in the West today.
Be sure you don’t miss Hank and Shadoe’s exciting story—or any of the LAWMAN books coming to you in the months ahead…because there’s nothing sexier than the strong arms of the lawl
Regards, Debra Matteucci Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator Harlequin Books 300 East 42nd Street New York, New York 10017
Midnight Prey
Caroline Burnes
For Dianna—live the dream
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Shadoe Deerman—Had the past come back to haunt her?
Hank Emrich—Known throughout the wildlife service as a troublemaker, was Hank following a dream—or setting up an elaborate revenge? Billy Casper—As sheriff of Lakota County, Montana, Billy knows all the victims, and all of the suspects.
Jill Amberly—Shadoe’s best friend stands to lose everything if the wolves are freed. John Carpenter—A cowboy as free as the Montana wind-is John ready to settle down on a ranch.or is he plotting?
Cal Oberton—Is he willing to use all of Hank’s secrets against him?
Harry Code—How far will Hank’s abrasive boss go to get what he wants?
Kathy Lemmon—She’s a blast from Hank’s past. She was bad news then—but what about now?
Thor—Taken against his will as part of a wolfrelease program, Thor is the leader of the pack. But is he even more than that?
Chapter One
The moon silvered the snow into a long white plain making the dark shadows of the forest even more sinister. Shadoe leaned against the tree, her breath puffing out in sharp gusts in front of her. She could sense the creature behind her, golden eyes able to follow her easily in the night.
Snow scrunched beneath a light step. She looked around, but there was no place to hide. If she tried to escape across the open meadow, she’d be easy prey for the animal. She could almost feel the hot breath on her neck, feel the fangs tearing into her throat. That’s how the end would come, she knew. The wolf would get bored with stalking her. When it knew she was tiring, it would suddenly dart out of the trees, catching her in the leg and bringing her down. Savage jaws would close on her throat.
Then the chase would be over.
The heavy snow trapped her feet, and she was amazed to look down and see that she was barefoot. How had she come out into the deadly Montana winter without her boots?
How had she come out without her gun?
In the distance she heard the pitiful whinny of a young, terrified horse. The sound galvanized her into action. That was how she happened to be barefoot and defenseless in the snow. She’d heard something after the foals. Something hungry and predatory. The wolf.
Her breath came in short, flat gasps. She could sense the wolf, watching her, listening to her struggle to get oxygen. In trying to save her horses, she’d made herself the perfect target. Smart, cunning, the wolf had abandoned the stalking of the horse and come for her, sensing that she was the enemy. She was the one who most threatened the predator. But tonight, she was no match for the wolf, not when she was weaponless.
She pushed her weary body away from the tree. If the wolf came for her, she would not die a coward’s death clinging to a tree trunk. In the deep snow her bare feet found a limb. She pulled it from beneath the white cover and held it. The wood was stout, better than nothing.
Turning to confront the woods, she held the limb-like club.
“Come on, you demon. Come on and fight.” She spat the words into the night, her brown eyes seeking some sign of life from within the woods.
A silvery shadow slinked just within the safety of the trees.
Shadoe’s heart tripled its beat, pounding so hard she heard it in her ears, felt it slam against her ribs.
“Come on, you bastard.”
She saw the movement almost before she could turn to meet it. The wolf came at her out of the timber. A silvery gray male, he ran with his head low, his golden eyes holding her in a gaze that promised a quick and savage death. The pink tongue flicked in hunger.
Shadoe cried out, a primal sound of war, and dropped into a crouch.
The wolf hit her with full force, knocking her backward in the snow. Her club was thrown from her hand, falling a dozen yards away. Defenseless, she twisted her fingers in the thick, soft fur even as the animal’s white fangs glinted in the moonlight.
Shadoe was a strong woman, but she was no match for the power of the wolf. The hungry mouth pressed down, the teeth grazing her throat. The jaws opened wider…
SHADOE DEERMAN SCREAMED and sat up in bed. Totem, her cat, hissed, spat, and leaped to the foot of the bed, frightened and annoyed with the rude awakening.
For the first few seconds, Shadoe could see nothing but the silvery snow and the black images of the trees, heard nothing except the thumping of her heart, but as the dream began to fade, she realized she was safe in her own room, in her home. Outside the bright April moon glinted through her window. Just to make sure, she got out of bed, slipped into her robe, and went out on the small porch that gave her a long, uninterrupted view of the range land that she’d claimed as her own. New spring grass gave a silvery wave in the moonlight. The snow was all but gone from her land, just lingering in some of the higher reaches.
Standing on the wooden deck, Shadoe started the litany of self-assurances she’d come to rely on whenever she was awakened by one of the terrible nightmares that had begun to plague her sleep ever since she’d learned that Canadian timber wolves were going to be set free in the Montana mountains.
“It’s only a dream. The horses are safe. I’m safe. The wolves haven’t been released yet. The horses are safe. The horses are safe.”
The words calmed her fears, but she knew she would have to get dressed and make a check of her stock before she could consider returning to bed. If there was any reason to go back to bed. If the pattern of nightmare and anxiety repeated itself, she’d not sleep another wink the entire night.
A low sigh escaped Shadoe as she leaned on the porch railing and stared out
across the land. The velvet sky was filled with the sparkle of stars, and a quirky breeze teased the new spring grass into foolish dances across the range. She listened to the stillness of the night, a solitude that had driven some to madness during the long isolated winters. But it wasn’t winter now. It was spring in Big Sky Country.
This was a land she both loved and hated. As a child, she’d dreamed of spending the rest of her life here. She and her father had talked and planned, imagining the horses they’d raise, the competitions they’d win. She had been a different person then, a child with no understanding of the terrible price a wild land could extract. A child who believed that she was bound to nature by bonds of love and understanding. A naive child.
Had she been wrong to come back to her family ranch and try to make a living? In truth, had she a choice? Her father’s people would say she had been called back. That she had come to finish her father’s dream. A faint smile tugged up the corners of Shadoe’s lips. When she’d first come back to the ranch, she’d see her father in the darkened hallway of the barn, or standing in a copse of trees at the edge of a meadow. She’d catch him out of the corner of her eye, a watchful presence, a spirit happy to see his daughter back on the land that they had both loved. In her mind she knew he was not there. But in her heart.that was another matter. Perhaps she didn’t have a choice, and with spring greening the meadows, she could only pray that she had made a wise decision to walk so close to old scars.
She was smiling when she caught sight of a movement along the south side of her barn. From her vantage point on the deck, she had a clear view down to the barn through the still leafless branches of a birch tree. For a second she calmed herself by saying it was only a shadow, the shifting of a cloud across the moon. But the night was cloudless, perfectly clear. She wrapped her arms around her body, feeling too vulnerable in her nightgown, and stared at the barn. Waiting, watching, as her father had taught her. The movement came again and she knew it for what it was, a person edging toward the main barn door.
The horses!
Shadoe eased back into her bedroom and picked up the bedside phone. Sheriff Billy Casper was a family friend and she dialed the number from memory. “Helen, this is Shadoe up at the Double S. There’s a prowler in my barn. You’d better send someone out here.” Before the dispatcher could give advice or warning, Shadoe replaced the phone. She found her jeans, a sleeveless T-shirt, a green flannel shirt, socks and insulated boots. With her jacket bunched under her arm she picked up her gun and flashlight before she went out the front door.
She felt the panic squeeze against her lungs, and she fought it back by taking long, measured breaths. This was one of the moments she’d dreaded, the idea of confronting a rustler. It was 1997, but outlaws still rode the range, only this time in tractor trailer rigs with the goal of stealing horses and cows for butcher. The outlaws usually weren’t brazen enough to raid a barn, but the county had been torn wide open by the controversy of releasing a dozen Canadian wolves into the wild. Many of the ranchers were in Washington, protesting. In fact, Shadoe had been scheduled to go but had stayed home at the last minute with a pregnant mare. Had the intruder expected her to be gone? It was a question that would bear lots of thought, later.
The shotgun was loaded and she had shells in her jacket pocket. She was ready for anything as she sprinted the last distance across the open barnyard to the barn door. Her heartbeat accelerated as she found the lock snapped in half and the door open a crack.
Remembering her father’s teachings, she cleared her mind of panic. She could see his lean features, the brown eyes that never flinched but often smiled. Breathe slowly, shut out the fear. Shadoe could remember the things he’d taught her, but that was a long time ago. A dream.
This was real. This was not some flight of imagination, some situation made up to test her skills. Someone had entered her barn, and the safety of her horses was now in her hands. Look, listen, think, then act. Four clearly defined steps. Four steps of a warrior.
Slipping in through the crack in the door, Shadoe held the shotgun at the ready, but she stopped long enough to let her eyes adjust to the deeper darkness of the barn. To let her ears pinpoint the slight differences in the sounds of her animals. In the middle of the barn, Geronimo was pawing in his stall. Dillon was also fidgeting. The intruder was somewhere near the middle area. She calculated the angle she would have to shoot to make certain she didn’t hit one of her horses. Look, listen, think.
Then act.
Sliding along the aisle, she started to move to a place where she had a better shot, if she got the opportunity. The horses began to fidget, destroying her ability to hear. At the far end in his stall with the iron bars, her stallion, Scrapiron, gave a snort of unrest.
Shadoe sought the darkest hiding place beside the rolledup water hoses, praying that the intruder would make a movement or sound that would give his location away. Could she shoot him?
The answer to that was yes. If she had to, she could. To save her horses, her future, she would do whatever was necessary.
The smooth stock of the shotgun was pressed into her shoulder, her fingers on the trigger as she left her hiding place and advanced into the center of the barn. She had a flashlight, but she wanted to pinpoint the trespasser before she turned it on. She would have only a few seconds to sight him and shoot. She had to be close, too, so the pellet pattern of the bullets wouldn’t spread out in too wide an area. It was a tricky situation, and where the hell was Sheriff Billy and the other ranchers?
A noise at the end of the barn gave Shadoe her first clue to the intruder’s location. Someone was down at the end, near Scrapiron’s stall. She heard metal on metal, the sound of the stall door sliding on its rollers. He was opening the stallion’s stall, hoping either to injure him or set him free. She had to move fast.
Dropping to a crouch, she started forward. Behind her, the barn door swung open wide. Damn! There were two of them and she was caught between them! She heard the tattoo of powerful hooves and knew that Scrapiron was whirling in his stall, excited by the stranger who approached him. It was now or never.
She lifted the gun to sight but she never got a shot off. Scrapiron lunged from his stall and raced toward her. The horse saw her, but too late for him to swerve, and his muscled chest caught her shoulder with such force that she nearly went down under his hooves. She kept her feet under her, but the impact spun her, knocking her to the left as her finger slipped on the trigger. The shotgun discharged into the dirt floor of the barn with a violence that lifted and then dropped her in a crumpled heap in the middle of the barn. Stunned, she heard the sound of running feet and soft cursing. In the distance was the wild cry of a stallion and the pounding of his hooves as he headed for the upper pastures.
Shadoe fought the desire to close her eyes and escape from the pain that tore through her right shoulder and exploded in her chest. Her stomach felt as if a mule had kicked her, but she was still alive, and the intruder was still on her property.
Moaning, she forced herself to roll over and she reached into her pocket to get more shells. The motion gave her a moment’s dizziness, and in the confusion she saw the clear Montana sky through the wide open barn door-and the tall silhouette of a man walking toward her.
The shells fumbled in her fingers and she couldn’t get them free of her pocket. Fighting the panic she tried to sit up and drag the gun into position, but before she could manage it a strong hand grasped the barrel and pulled it out of her grip.
In the darkness of the barn she couldn’t see the man’s features, but he was big, a tall, broad-shouldered man who bent down to her and held her to the ground with one hand.
“Easy,” he said, his voice a tense command.
She struggled against him, fear sending a surge of strength to her limbs. He wasn’t afraid of her at all, not even scared that she would see him. That probably meant he didn’t intend to leave her alive. That thought made her struggle against the hand on her shoulder.
“Hold still, dammit.” He pinned her to the barn floor, exerting enough pressure to make her cry out.
“Get away from me.” She fought to keep her head, to think. The pain in her stomach and chest was almost unbearable as she fought against the punishing hold he had on her.
“Hold still,” he ordered again. While he held her with one hand the other moved down her body, sliding over her right shoulder and down to her breast. At her sharp intake of breath, the hand moved on, down to her ribs. The sudden, excruciating pain made her cry out.
“What damn fool thing were you doing out here with a shotgun?” His voice conveyed disgust—and something else, a trace of relief.
The question was more effective than his grip on her shoulder. Shadoe stopped struggling and forced her mind to think. Who was this man and what was he doing in her barn in the middle of the night? If she wanted to survive, she was going to have to use her brain. She swallowed before she spoke.
“You’d better get out of here now. The sheriff is on the way. Get out of here while you can. I haven’t seen your face. I won’t tell them which way you went” She forced herself to speak in a low, steady voice. If he wasn’t after the horses, what did he want? The very possibility made her stomach roll.
“For a lady with some cracked ribs, you aren’t in much of a position to bargain.”
The dry, amused tone of his voice frightened her even more than his touch. He was one cool customer. Either he didn’t believe she’d called the sheriff or he knew how long it would take the law to get out to her isolated ranch.
“Sheriff Billy Casper is an old friend of mine.” She tried to catch a glimpse of his features in the moonlight that poured in through the open door, but it was useless. His face was in total shadow. “He is on the way, and he’ll break all speed limits getting here.”
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