Bear Claw Bodyguard. Jessica AndersenЧитать онлайн книгу.
to get my butt down here as soon as I found out about the problem in the Forgotten.” She paused, though, because there were still some solid nerves beneath the irritation. And although she might be tripping over her tongue right now with her handsome escort, she wasn’t an idiot. “Please, Detective, tell me honestly—and we’re talking the absolute truth here, taking your other cases or whatever else is going on inside your head out of the mix—how much real and concrete danger will I be in if we go out there?”
His gaze sharpened on her with surprise and, she thought, maybe a bit of respect. Didn’t expect the pint-size plant nerd to push back, did you?
He was paying attention now, though, with none of the earlier eye crinkle that said he was humoring her. And his voice was dead serious when he said, “Okay, Doc, here’s the deal. There’s no hard evidence that the militants are still in the area, and there hasn’t been any sign of daytime movement, at least not that the surveillance has managed to pick up. It’s just gut feelings and suspicions right now. So, no, there’s no hard evidence. And if you’re certain that you want to do this, we’ll go. But I’m going to drive you in and out each day from Station Fourteen, and camping out up at the site just isn’t an option. Take it or leave it.” He paused, then said almost grudgingly, “For what it’s worth, I know the situation’s not perfect, and I’m sorry that it’s going to complicate your investigation.”
He even looked like he meant it, which had her tension easing somewhat, and her shoulders coming down a bit from their tight “trying to be taller” squareness. “Okay,” she conceded. “The commute is going to slow me down, but I’ll work around it somehow.”
“And you’ll do what I tell you once we reach the Forgotten?”
“I won’t do anything stupid.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
No, it wasn’t, but she knew better than to make blanket promises like that. Re-squaring her shoulders and not letting herself get trapped in those eyes, which made her want to agree to just about anything, she said, “If we’re talking about cop stuff, then yes, of course you’re in charge. But when it comes to fieldwork, I’m going to be calling the shots on when, where and what. And the ‘when’ is now and the ‘where’ is out at the infection site. I know you probably think what I do is lightweight compared to your job, but if my suspicions are correct, Bear Claw Canyon could be looking at a major ecosystem collapse unless we can—or, rather, unless I can—contain the spread of this disease.”
As if to punctuate her words, the luggage carousel finally rumbled to life, the “Delayed” sign blinked off, and her flight number came up in glowing pixels. The luggage started spitting out almost immediately, and Blondie grabbed a couple of Vuittons and clicked away with only a single last look over her shoulder, which the detective didn’t acknowledge. He kept his eyes locked on Tori, and she stared right back.
Finally, he sighed, nodded and broke their eyeball stalemate. “Okay, we’ll head out to the station and go from there. Which bags are yours?”
“I’ve got them.” As her two bulging duffels trundled their way around the conveyer, she stepped forward and snagged them. She was aware of his gaze following her as she handled the heavy load with a combination of leverage and a bone-deep refusal to let him see her wobble. When she turned back to him, he was holding out a hand. She eyed it, trying not to notice the faint but capable calluses or how much bigger it was than her own. “You want to shake on it?”
“We could do that. Or you could give me those bags and we can hit the road.”
She wasn’t entirely sure if they had reached an agreement, a standoff or what. But as she handed over one of the duffels and stubbornly kept the other for herself, and then followed him out to a capable-looking dark green SUV, she knew for darned sure that she was going to need to be on her toes around this guy if she planned on running the investigation on her terms. After all, high-country lakes might appear to be a simple, beautiful blue on the surface, but they often had submerged dangers that could snag the unwary boater … especially if she was too busy being caught up in the scenery to see the danger before she went overboard.
Chapter Three
By the time he steered his SUV onto the final section of road leading up to Ranger Station Fourteen, Jack was more than ready to get the hell out of the car. He was riled up, wound tight and needed to move so badly that it was taking him an almost physical effort to not stomp on the gas and blast up the last few miles going way too fast for safety.
It wasn’t because of anything his passenger had done either. Before they even reached the highway, Tori had pulled off her windbreaker, wadded it up against the doorframe to use as a pillow and fallen instantly asleep. Nope, she wasn’t the problem at all; he was. Because with her sleeping so soundly, he was free to glance over at her time and again, trying to figure her out.
When she had first come through the security checkpoint, he’d instantly gotten the impression of movement and energy, creating a vitality that had filled the space around her so thoroughly that he hadn’t realized how tiny she was until she was right there in front of him. Even then, she had radiated such competence in her practical clothes and tomboy appearance—a cute tomboy in glasses and a ponytail, but a tomboy nonetheless—that he had told himself she’d be okay in the Forgotten.
Heck, she’d had no problem standing up to him, had she? She’d gone right after him with a one-two punch of logic and determination, with the subtle threat of “let’s call our bosses” behind it all, much as Tucker’s wife, Alyssa, might have done, or any one of the other rock star lady cops Bear Claw was fortunate enough to have in the field.
He hadn’t anticipated that sort of grit, guts and determination from a tree doctor—he’d been expecting someone quieter and a lot less fiery, he supposed, and that was probably what he got for making assumptions.
Now, though, seeing her asleep with one hand folded beneath her head, the other curled loosely around the seat belt where it crossed her chest, he was acutely aware that if he gripped her wrist his fingers would overlap his thumb almost fully. And, granted, that had nothing to do with her competence as a scientist … but it sure had him twitchy about bringing her out to the backcountry.
Lucky for me she’s not the long, cool blonde Tucker was talking about, he thought. Because it was going to be bad enough dividing his attention between his diminutive protectee and the militia case; the last thing he needed was to have any kind of inappropriate attraction rear its head. And, hello, why was he even thinking about that? She was here for a few days, a week or two at the most, which was nowhere near long enough to start something like that.
“We’re here,” he announced as the SUV rolled past the rustic, T-shaped building that housed Ranger Station Fourteen—empty now, with the season having closed a few weeks earlier—and continued on to the quirky little house beyond it: an old research observatory that head ranger Matt Blackthorn had converted into his private quarters, and where he lived more or less year-round despite the harsh conditions.
Matt was every inch an ex-cop even though he didn’t like to talk about his time on a city force far away. The ranger didn’t like to talk about much really, although that had been improving since he fell for Gigi Lynd, the pretty CSI who’d wound up embroiled in the initial round of attacks by the Shadow Militia. Last Jack had heard from Gigi—who had done some ride-alongs with him and become a casual friend—she and Matt were keeping a sharp eye on things up at Fourteen but hadn’t seen any evidence of the militia. He hadn’t been able to get hold of her today, though, and was looking forward to getting an update from her and Matt.
As he pulled into the parking area in front of the observatory and killed the engine, Tori sat up and blinked around, her brown eyes looking owlish behind her glasses, and then lighting as she took in their surroundings.
And, yeah, Matt’s house was pretty cool, almost an inland lighthouse, with two levels of living space and a tall platform sprouting from one side. Towering high above the surrounding trees, it overlooked sweeping, rock-strewn