Page 5

Hunt

A Marine can fall asleep just about anywhere. A cot in a warm cell is a hell of a lot better than a rock on a mountain.

When I wake, a young man barely out of college makes coffee. As he passes me a paper cup, he avoids my gaze as if I could kill him with a look.

Around ten, the sheriff arrives. After the shapely woman drops her coat on the desk, she unlocks my cell and saunters to my bunk. “I called your superior. I don’t know what kind of leverage you have, but I’m supposed to let you go on about your business.”

I shoot her my most winning smile. “Yes, ma’am. I totally appreciate it. Now, if you’d like, I’ll get out of your hair real fast.”

My fingers are itching to call Wulf. I don’t care what the higher-ups say. Those hired thugs in the woods don’t need counting. They need incarceration. Hopefully, Axel will have the clout to make it happen.

Last night, I could’ve sworn the officer wanted me to fuck her. I’m guessing it’s the reason for her scowl as she hands back my stuff. “You have no clue, do you? The Mexican border gets all the attention while our budget is cut. Arrests last year exceeded the previous seventeen combined. Meanwhile, you get a friggin’ pile of money to study squirrels.”

After signing her forms, I hold up my hands. “Honestly, Sheriff. I’m in no way political. I simply like animals more than people.”

Scoffing, the fortyish two-by-four shoves my coat in my hand then leads me to the door. “Go back to Burlington or wherever the hell you’re from. You’re going to get someone killed.”

“What about my car?” I pray it’s still where I left it. Otherwise, I’ll waste hours trying to procure another.

“Call an Uber. You can wait at the diner.” When Miss Hell-Hath-No-Fury points across the street, I zip up my mouth and coat.

“Thanks.” For nothing. Exiting, I almost plow into yesterday’s gorgeous pixie racing up the icy walkway.

My unruly cock twitches for absolutely no reason except her blush.

Biting her lower lip, she reaches a gloved hand to mine. “Umm… I heard you were arrested last night. Sorry, some of those trails are posted and…”

“Hey Kelly, what’re you doing here?” Loughlin’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes, but the other woman doesn’t notice.

Instead, her grin widens. “I’m taking your prisoner to breakfast. Want to join us?”

“Go ahead, be my guest.” As the shorter of the two slams the door, I glance at the time.

What the hell is going on here? My sleep-deprived brain is having difficulty understanding these women. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” If memory serves, the last time we spoke, O’Malley was pissed off because her cat liked me better.

Grabbing my arm, she tugs me across the street. “I asked Jeremy to cover for a couple of hours. He owes me—What? Aren’t you hungry?”

Her hopeful grin sends a bolt of lust to my libido, but I tamp it down real fast. I need to focus on what I saw last night. One mistake, and there is no coming back. Still, a man needs to eat. If all goes well, maybe she’ll give me a lift to my SUV.

“So, what changed your mind about me?” I capture her green eyes as they flick over her menu.

“Huh? Nothing. No one wants to see you hurt.” Her offhanded tone sets off alarms.

She’s hiding something more than Dante. Perhaps I should keep her on a short leash. The primal brain, the one below my belt, cheers my logic.

“I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” Her first sincere smile catches me off guard.

Hell, she’s a spring day after a frigid winter. I’ve heard of shit like this but never thought it would happen to me.

Shifting in my chair, I place my hand on hers as we both reach for the cream. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m Prince Charming. Ask Monstro if you don’t believe me.”

Her blush spreads to the tips of her ears and down her long neck. “Are you flirting, Mr. Gurion?”

As she plays with an errant curl, I enter the minefield. “Why? Is there a boyfriend in the picture?”

“No. Is there a Mrs. Fish and Wildlife?” Irises widen as she draws me in further.

Under her spell, I chuckle. “Not even close.”

Her grin widens, hitting my heart dead center.

Holy crap, I am so screwed.

To keep my mouth from saying any other foolishness, I stuff it with eggs, hashbrowns, and toast. Downing my coffee, I throw some bills on the table.

I should open my phone and call a rideshare. Instead, I tuck that damn lock of hair behind her ear, then help her with her coat. “You sure you don’t mind dropping me off?”

Say no.

“Sure, not a problem.” When she strolls to the door, my hand reaches for her lower back as if I’d known her for years rather than hours.

Soon, we’re in her vehicle. She brakes at the town’s only stoplight while glancing over the stick shift. “I’m sorry you spent the night in jail, but Gina was only looking out for you. Would you go off to some remote area of Texas at night by yourself?”

Yes. Scott Hunter, ex-Marine and member of the FBI, would have no qualms. Jack Gurion, however, not so much.

I hang my head, “Probably not.”

“So, why in the world would you do it here?” At her chastising tone, I hold back my grin.

“Because Canadians are more polite? Nicer?” I snicker, causing her eyes to roll.

After, she bangs her palms on the steering wheel. “Sometimes you are such a jerk. Do you make light of everything?”

What is it about this woman? “Listen, it’s not my fault things have changed. It’s not like I can give the grant money back. What would you suggest I do?”

Instead of answering my question, she purses her lips, concentrating on the drive. Soon, the sun comes out from under a cloud. The yellow light reflects on the thin, icy layer of snow, and everything sparkles.

I don’t know why, but I need to see her smile again, so talk about something safer. “It’s so damn beautiful up here.”

Her brows arch while a corner of her mouth lifts. “Don’t get out much, huh?”

Shit. Another mistake. “You’re right. I’m stuck behind a desk—a lot.”

“Mmm.” Passing a barn with a milk tanker parked in front, she turns up a hill.

Soon, the paved road ends. As pine boughs brush against the side of her 4-wheel drive, we bounce across the frozen mud.

Once we reach my vehicle, I jump out and curse. The mercenaries slashed all four tires, or maybe the sheriff did it. Of course, my phone has no bars.

Kelly’s eyes widen as she circles the damage. “I hate to say I told you so—but you can’t be out here.”

“Yup. I hear ya.” Not for the first time, I wish I could shed my alter ego and tell her I’m FBI.

She thinks I should be scared, but I’m not. What I am, is determined. However, with the agency watching every penny, Batt is going to ream me a new asshole.

I’ve already blown my budget, and I’m just getting started. “Can you drop me off at the closest garage with a tow truck?”

Back in the driver’s seat, Kelly glances over the cup holder. “I know a guy. He’ll save you money but doesn’t deal with insurance.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.” The damage doesn’t worry me as much as the message they sent. It could be the two-legged coyotes noticed my presence, or the sheriff wanted me out of the way more than she was letting on.

The border agent purses her lips. “Is there any other way to conduct your research?”

“No. I’ve already bought the cameras. I simply need to install them.” I recall a similar argument in Batt’s office. When I suggested we use drones with satellite coverage, he shot me down. Yeah, big surprise there. Everything is being used in the South.

“The noncitizens will take them down. Your stuff won’t last a week.” Her patronizing tone grates on my nerves.

Grumbling, I poke around in my knapsack and when I lift one of my hi-tech cameras with thumb and forefinger, she whistles through her teeth. “Whoa. Those are tiny.”

“You get it? Why I can’t give up?” A pang of guilt washes over me, but I swallow it back. It’s safer if she thinks I’m here for the environment.

While she drives, oblivious to my stare, her lips move as if talking to herself. If her scowl is any indication, she has reached a conclusion. “Fine. There’s only one thing to be done. Next time, you take me with you.”

I snort out laughing. “As what? My bodyguard?”

“No, Wildlife, your babysitter.” Her pointed gaze and snarky barb hit their mark dead center.

Ouch. “I don’t think-”

“It’s settled.” Her caustic words remind me of my night in jail. Perhaps, if I let her help with the electronics, we could concentrate on heated kisses—sex against the bark of a maple tree under the moonlight.

As the fantasy plays out, my cock hardens. In my defense, I didn’t sleep much last night. Mentally kicking myself, I remember she’s a gun-toting DHS agent—not someone to be trifled with.

As if hearing my thoughts, she stops at a farmhouse, deals with my broken SUV, then jumps into the driver’s side. “All set. He’ll tow it wherever you want.”

Back at the border building, she hops out, runs around the car, and opens my door, of all things. “You can wait inside.”

“I’ll be right in.” Never having a woman act the gentleman is more than a little unsettling.

Putting my battered ego on hold, I text Wulf, who calls back on my burner phone. “Hunt, out of jail so soon?”

“Ha, ha. You’re hilarious. Listen, I don’t have much time. Last night, I saw six men coming over from the north. Two were fully armed professionals. They had eyes in the sky. We’re talking top-dollar. Before I could follow, the local law arrested me. Funny enough, the sheriff knew exactly where to find me. When I returned to retrieve my vehicle this morning, my tires were slashed. I need more intel, like yesterday. There’s a lot more going on under the surface than I was led to believe.” Worried I might be overheard, I move further away from the building.

“How can I help?” I picture my friend in his comfy DC office, wishing like fuck I was still part of his team instead of Batt’s personal abacus.

“I’m sending you a recording. Can you get it translated? I tried, but it was too garbled, and my Farsi is rusty. By the way, if anyone asks, I have followed Batt’s orders to the letter. I am tabulating illegal immigrants. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Wulf whooshes out a long breath. “Keep your head down, my friend. Stay safe. I’ll get back to you the moment I have something.”