Loyal Wolf (14 page)

“Sounds good,” Ralf said. “I'm really enjoying this. How about you, Jock?” The guy certainly knew how to play his role well. All his Alpha Force roles.

There wasn't any better aide to shifters than his was, and Jock knew it.

Especially since they'd also had a talk about Kathlene. Ralf wasn't stupid. He knew what was going on. Was nonjudgmental. Only told Jock to be careful, which he was.

“Definitely,” Jock replied to Ralf. “But let's hurry. I don't want to hold you up any more, Kathlene.”

A couple of other people in uniform were standing nearby, conversing. If any of them eavesdropped, they'd most likely believe exactly as Jock wanted them to. All was well. His old buddy Kathlene was merely showing him and his friend around where she worked. Everything was aboveboard. No underlying issues or goals.

False.

They'd started out on the lower levels, where Kathlene had pointed out the rooms of emergency staff and others who responded to phone calls, as well as locker rooms, storage areas and places that were of great use but wouldn't yield them the information they were after.

But that was part of the act. They really had to behave as if this was a genuine tour of the building—even though they were only just now about to dig into what was important here.

Rather than waiting for an elevator, Kathlene showed them up the couple of flights of steps to the upper echelons of this building.

They emerged into a hallway much wider and more brightly lit than those downstairs. The floor was gleaming wood. The walls between the numerous doors were covered with photos of faces of smiling men in uniforms, probably former sheriffs and their seconds in command.

“I don't get up here very often,” Kathlene said. “The officers stationed up here mostly come downstairs if they want to interact with us. But—”

A door at the far end of the hall opened, and Sheriff Melton Frawley emerged. With him was a young uniformed deputy, a woman. Jock assumed she was the person Kathlene had said she would talk to about Ralf and him and their opinions about the town.

The woman who had Frawley's ear because she did as he said and waited on him hand and foot, if what Kathlene had said was true. And Jock had no doubt that it was.

Frawley strode toward them. Kathlene smiled again in a way that struck Jock as nervous yet determined. Instinctively, he moved to her side and was glad to see Ralf do the same.

“Deputy Baylor,” the sheriff said, “what're you doing on this floor?” To his credit, the guy wasn't scowling at her, and his tone sounded more curious than angry or dictatorial.

Sheriff Melton Frawley struck Jock as being a tall stick of a man who'd fought his way into a job with power and would do anything to maintain it. When Jock had seen him the previous night at the old ranch, the guy had been in his uniform as he was now, maybe to assert himself as in charge, or maybe just because he hadn't had time to change. In either event, he'd swaggered a bit while talking to Tisal and the others in charge of the supposed sportsmen.

“I was just giving my friends Jock and Ralf a tour of our headquarters, sir, but we're done. I'm off to find Deputy Korling so we can go out on patrol.”

“You do that,” said Frawley. And then the man turned to Jock and Ralf. “Meantime, I'll continue with your friends' tour.” The man grinned, and Jock figured that the other lady deputy had done as Kathlene had hoped: told their story to this man.

And with luck, Ralf and he would get an invitation to meet the sportsmen in person. Tonight.

While Jock was still in human form.

Chapter 14

A
s the sheriff spoke, Betsy Alvers had remained just behind him, peeking around to aim a sympathetic smile toward Kathlene that said she'd done as Kathlene had anticipated and revealed to the boss the earlier conversation they'd had—whether or not Kathlene had expected some discretion from her.

But fortunately, Kathlene had expected exactly what had happened.

And the results? Well, now Sheriff Frawley must know how concerned Kathlene was that her dear long-term friend Jock and his buddy Ralf weren't on the same page as Kathlene about hunting and hunting laws and maybe even about people who tried to restrict other people's rights.

So as Kathlene hurried downstairs to meet up with her partner, she kept telling herself those results were perfect, just what she'd wanted: a probable conversation between the undercover Alpha Force guys and the sheriff, one that could lead to her team members learning a whole lot more about what was going on with the sportsmen and what they were up to.

So why did Kathlene feel so bummed out now?

As if she didn't know.

What they were doing wouldn't, couldn't, include her.

At least not right now...

She reached the downstairs area where Jimmy waited for her, nearly alone since others in their shift had already hit the road.

“You ready to go, partner?” Jimmy asked, frowning in what she interpreted to be barely concealed irritation.

“I sure am. Let's sign out and get on our way.”

They'd both officially gone on duty before the morning's assembly, but now they followed the standard process to confirm that they were about to enter the patrol car assigned to them and get out there to protect the town and county.

“Let's go,” Kathlene said a minute later when she had completed her entry on the department computer system, tossing a grim smile toward Jimmy. She strode determinedly through the doorway and down the concrete steps to the parking area, hearing him keeping up with her.

Today she had the keys. She would drive them around.

And would get nowhere near the old ranch unless there was a call out for assistance from law enforcement.

That wouldn't happen.

Nor would she get back here, or anywhere else where Jock and Ralf were likely to be hanging out.

No, she would get an update from them later about how their ad hoc meeting with Sheriff Frawley went, and whether they would get a visit to the sportsmen's camp out of it.

Kathlene would have to wait.

And Kathlene was not a patient person.

* * *

All had gone perfectly, as if Jock had whispered into the sheriff's ear exactly what he wanted, and the guy had been nothing but an obedient servant—even while Frawley undoubtedly assumed he held all the cards in anyone's pockets around this department and the county where he was in charge.

At the moment, Jock and Ralf were just ending their meeting in Frawley's surprisingly small but neat, and expensively appointed, office.

“We really appreciate all you've said,” Jock said, leaning forward in the smooth wooden office chair he'd taken that faced the sheriff's desk.

Ralf was right beside him. “We sure do,” he said. “I'd been telling Jock that maybe it was a mistake to come here, at least for any length of time. It's okay for him to say hi to an old friend, but we're on vacation, and the idea of not being able to do any hunting before visiting Yellowstone and then heading home... Well, I, for one, didn't like it.”

“And like we said, before we talked to you we really had the impression that things around here were about to get even worse. I mean, your county commissioners' ideas about passing even more restrictions?” Jock shook his head, hoping he was as good an actor as he was trying to be. Those restrictions could save lives, including lives of wolves.

And his kind had an affinity for the true, wild, nonshifting canines as well as for their own.

“Well, when you come tonight to the barbecue, you'll get to meet other people who think like you do.”

“We're looking forward to it.” Jock knew his smile was genuine. They'd gotten an invitation to visit the ranch. They would be able to talk to the men staying there, listen in on what they were saying to one another, get a better feel—he hoped—for what those explosions were about and whether the residents there genuinely were true sportsmen.

It still was possible that they were innocent of any wrongdoing despite all Jock's doubts, including those raised by the snippets of conversations he had been able to make out while patrolling the area in wolf form. And that one small explosion he'd heard and smelled.

“I'll let them know you're coming, and I'll be there, too, at least for a while.” The sheriff stood, still grinning at them. Even if Jock didn't have other reasons to doubt the man's sincerity, that too-bright smile on the narrow, aging, yet falsely friendly face would have given him the same sense of crawly insects along his back as he had now. “And don't you worry about your friendship with Deputy Baylor,” Frawley drawled. “I'm a bit older than you gentlemen, and sometimes youthful relationships don't last forever, especially since people often go in different directions that you can't imagine when you're kids in college.”

Very philosophical for an old, curmudgeonly—and most likely deceitful—sheriff, Jock thought. But this one had an ax to grind, apparently against anyone who didn't think the same way he did.

“Thanks,” Jock said.

“See you later,” Ralf added as they both rose and left the room.

* * *

It was late afternoon, and Kathlene was off duty. She was glad that she'd gotten a few minutes to join up with Jock and Ralf at their cabin before they left to go to the barbecue at the fenced-off ranch.

“We need some kind of signal or code,” she said. “You can always call me and say it, and then I'll come to help.”

Jock had been standing by the cabin's unused fireplace, but now he strode over to her. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans with a light hunting jacket over it. Ralf, just coming in with Click on a leash, was dressed similarly.

“Thanks,” Jock said, “but we'll be fine.” He drew close enough to look down at her, and the heat in his brilliant hazel eyes looked both fond and damnably sexy. Too bad she couldn't just seduce him to keep him from going into what could be a lion's den of trouble.

“Well, will you be able to shapeshift if things get too rocky?”

“No. I don't want to have the equipment and elixir along just in case things do get out of hand, and I doubt we'd be able to slip away long enough to do anything, anyway. But don't worry. We'll be fine. We're well trained by the military, even though we also have some secret kinds of missions that the rest of the troops aren't sent on. I doubt things will get so out of hand that we'll need to engage in any kind of self-defense or combat, but if so, we'll deal with it.”

“Yeah, but Kathlene already bested you in hand-to-hand,” Ralf called from behind them. “No wonder she's worried.”

She couldn't help smiling, but only for a moment. “That's not the point. I should find a way to go with you, to help if—”

“No need,” Jock interrupted.

“But—” Kathlene didn't get to finish. She was suddenly in Jock's arms, held tightly against his muscular body, his mouth silencing her with a hot kiss.

When he finally let go of her—just a little—Jock pulled his head back and looked down at her again.

“We'll be fine,” he repeated. “And I'll call you just as soon as we're far enough away from there to have no repercussions. I'll tell you what we learn, I promise.”

Kathlene wanted to contradict him yet again. Sure, he could distract her with an unexpected kiss, but only for a moment, and not from her deepest concerns.

None of them spoke much more before the two men left shortly thereafter—although Kathlene had to glare at Ralf to fend off his amused glances. When they were gone, Kathlene stayed in their cabin just a little longer, glad to have at least Click's company this time.

She sat on one of the two rustic chairs, and the dog seemed to sense her malaise. He came over and sat on the wooden floor beside her, putting his head onto her lap.

“Thanks, Click,” she whispered, bending over to hug the dog. She patted him for a while, then reached for the TV remote. Maybe she'd find some brainless sitcom to take her mind off those men—that man—and his attitude, and the potential danger to both of them.

But that was impossible. She was damned worried.

She was part of their team. They'd confirmed it before, and her knowledge about the nature of Alpha Force now made it even more critical that they accept her.

They had, therefore, told her all that they'd said in their discussion with her boss, or so she believed. Sheriff Frawley had undoubtedly invited them that night because of her. His sportsmen should supposedly be able to convince these visitors that there were others in and around Clifford County who weren't like her and who didn't like the kind of authority that she espoused.

She was concerned, of course, that the sportsmen just wanted to get to know Jock and Ralf better, to learn if they truly were of a similar mind-set to them—or potential enemies, as she was.

They were aware that she and Jock were supposedly old friends, so that could give them cause to mistrust him, no matter what he told them.

Her showing up with them for this barbecue, as part of their team, wouldn't work. She knew that.

But she could at least wait here, on their turf, for their return.

Unless...

* * *

This felt novel. Instead of Jock's creeping around while in wolf form, Ralf drove their car right up the narrow, pitted driveway through the woods to the locked metal gate in the fence surrounding the old ranch.

It was late now. Evening was falling. A good time for a party, Jock supposed.

A guard came out of the small shed that was right next door, a guy in a camo uniform, of all things. If this group was composed of anarchists, why did any of them want to look like official military members?

Or was this just for show, to make any visitors realize that not just anyone could enter here?

Jock got out of the car and approached. He was careful not to raise his chin or do anything else that might look unusual, but he did use his stronger senses to check out the area a bit. There was nothing unusual, though, except the hint of a fire in the distance, probably the barbecue.

That didn't mean the entire facility was pristine.

“Hello,” the guard called through the gate. He looked like he must have been around for a while, a senior citizen with a wrinkled face and suspicious frown. A longtime anarchist?

Jock motioned for Ralf to join him. Ralf turned off the engine and they both walked toward the gate. “Hi,” Jock called. “Sheriff Frawley invited us to the barbecue here tonight.”

When the guard didn't move for a moment except to study them with dark, distrustful eyes, Jock thought of Kathlene and what she had said and her concern for them.

Maybe she'd been right—not that he doubted they could be putting themselves in a dangerous position just by coming here. But maybe they should have called in backup first.

Their orders, though, were that backup would be readily available, but no Alpha Force members would be flown in until their surveillance yielded more than suspicions that these guys were ready to blow up civilians and others to support their hatred of authority.

Jock had put his superior officer, Drew Connell, on alert after hearing, and scenting, that one explosion, but more was needed.

And Kathlene as backup? No way! He needed to ensure her safety, but not vice versa.

“Your names?” the guy finally called.

Beside Jock, Ralf moved a little. He apparently felt uncomfortable with this situation, too. “I'm Ralf Nunnoz,” he called, “and this is my friend Jock Larabey. We visited with Sheriff Frawley at his office this morning, so if there's any question about our being here, you can call him.”

His aide at work. Jock suppressed his grim smile. He knew he could always count on Ralf to have his back.

“No need. He's been in touch. You can come in.” The senior guy moved away and pulled something out of his pocket. It must have been a control of some kind since the gate started to roll sideways as it opened.

“Thanks,” Ralf called. Both returned to the car and Ralf slowly drove them inside.

The guard approached the driver's window, which Ralf opened. He told them to continue down the narrow road until they saw a parking lot. They were to leave their car there and someone would meet them.

Once again, Ralf thanked the man, and they followed his instructions. Jock was surprised to see that the parking lot was fairly substantial in size and nearly full. Perhaps twenty cars were there beneath the canopy of overhanging trees. It was still light enough that Jock could see that, straight ahead, there was a clearing beyond a narrow row of vegetation, and in it was a structure he'd noticed before, while prowling the area, that looked like a ranch house.

Sure enough, as the guard had said, they were met by a man walking from that direction. He looked familiar—one of those they'd met at the bar and at the county commissioners' meeting.

Ralf had parked in one of the few empty spaces and the guy joined them. He was tall and appeared as muscular in his bright green knit shirt and jeans as Jock remembered him. “Hi,” he said. “Welcome. We met before. I'm Hal.”

“Hi, Hal.” Jock reintroduced himself and Ralf. “This is really nice, our being invited here. I understand from the sheriff that there are a bunch of you and that you're into hunting.”

“That's right. Come on and I'll introduce you to some of the others.” Hal motioned with his long arm, and both Jock and Ralf followed him along the unpaved path through the trees. “I hear you're not from Montana,” he continued as they walked.