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Lena’s muscles tightened, and Matthew pushed against her. She slid her hand into her pocket, aiming her elbow into Matthew’s stomach. She hoped he obeyed her less than subtle signal to keep silent.

  “We’re meeting her at her request.” Deacon Black watched her as if he expected her to take the bait and fight with him in a petty verbal struggle for dominance.

  She wasn’t biting. If they knew where Shanae was, they wouldn’t be here searching for her. Besides, contacting anyone, much less family who hadn’t seen or spoken to her in seven years, seemed grossly out of character for Matthew’s wife. Lena frowned, and before she could provide a cover response, Matthew stepped closer.

  “Shanae Philmont’s my wife, and she never mentioned any of you. In all our years together—never.”

  Lena bit back her frustration. So much for withholding information and testing the waters. She put a hand on Matthew’s arm, staying him. He didn’t look like he needed restraint, but she didn’t want more disclosure.

  “Funny the rest of the family doesn’t know you, Mr. Philmont,” Trim piped up from behind Deacon.

  Not good. Lena glanced toward Deacon. Implacable and silent, he remained unreadable, unlike his confrontational teammate.

  Lena evaluated the third member, Wharton, who remained silent as well. His tense muscles gave the distinct impression he waited on only a single gesture or command to make their lives very difficult.

  Well, she wasn’t feeding that fire. For some reason, Shanae’s family had circled the wagons to keep the big, bad husband away. While she didn’t blame them for being protective, too many things didn’t add up here. Despite the animosity from Trim, the postures of the two men reflected ease, not hostility toward Matthew. They exhibited tepid interest.

  For a moment, Lena considered stepping back and letting this mixed group sort things out on their own. But for someone who’d never met Matthew, Trim’s outright hostility struck Lena as dangerous. Unwarranted hostility for someone they’d just met.

  In Lena’s book, no one deserved to be judged without evidence. There was also the fact that she’d already taken Matthew’s money. She never reneged on a client contract. Especially someone she believed really needed her help.

  She’d adjusted her procedures by bringing Matthew along. This small group of pseudo-relatives merely introduced another inconvenience. Professionals dealt with inconveniences all the time. She’d developed a tough skin thanks to her former fellow rangers and one stubborn PI partner. It came in handy during surprises like this one.

  Deacon shifted, and a tremor rolled down Lena’s arm as he inadvertently brushed against her.

  Her body’s response unnerved her, but not enough to move. She flashed him a quick look. The edge of his mouth quirked, but he didn’t acknowledge either the touch or her unspoken rebuke, almost daring her to confront him.

  Not happening.

  Something about Deacon warned her that, like her, he wouldn’t back down from her or this job. Tough and committed. What trouble involving Shanae and Trevor warranted this level of manpower?

  “Since we have the same goal, maybe we should work together,” she offered, knowing he’d never accept.

  Trim barked out a laugh and then gave her a wide smile. The bright white teeth and the glint in her eyes didn’t offer friendship. “Sure, honey. We’ll meet you outside when you’re done here.”

  Even Matthew raised an eyebrow at the caustic tone. Wharton looked away, avoiding Lena’s gaze. Deacon had closed his eyes for a second and now stared at her again. His look staked a claim, no longer curiosity or even annoyance. She’d made a career of listening to people, learning the signs words didn’t relay. Subtext was her first language. Deacon appeared to have no interest in exchanging censure or continuing Trim’s barbs. He watched Lena’s responses as if he considered the petty comment a challenge, determining her worthiness in matching his expectations.

  Well, he could wait until hell froze over. She didn’t do petty. No one provoked Lena Juarez to answer a challenge she didn’t want.

  When she remained silent, he turned and left the building. The others disappeared in his wake, and the door clicked behind them as the ranger returned.

  “Here are some trail maps. I doubt you’ll need them, though I’ve marked where the few potential campsites are. You’ve got a radio?”

  Lena patted her jacket pocket.

  “Good. The weather here can blindside you in minutes, and there are poachers in bigger numbers this year, so keep sharp.”

  She shook his hand and accepted the maps. The last thing she intended was to follow a prescribed course. With Deacon’s shifter team as relatives, Shanae was deep in hiding, not hanging out in an open campsite. Lena and Matthew needed to cut corners and make up for lost time if they wanted to get to her before the other half of the family feud caused her to disappear without Matthew’s chance for closure. Because the one thing she did read loud and clear about Deacon Black—he wasn’t doing Matthew any favors. If Shanae’s husband wanted to be a part of her life, he had to get to her before the family found her. Lena had picked up the gauntlet thrown Matthew’s way.

  What choice did she have? If Shanae possessed animal makeup as well, Lena doubted Matthew knew.

  Matthew let loose a slow whistle as they exited the ranger cabin and glanced around at the empty grounds. “That could have gone better.”

  “Every family has issues. We can’t let every little maneuver screw with our focus,” she said, though it was a gross understatement.

  He glanced back at her and almost smiled. “I’m glad I hired you. So why didn’t you tell them about Trevor?”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Lack of trust. On all our parts.” Matthew responded immediately and squinted toward the forest as if expecting them to return. “The leader, Deacon, seems capable, but Shanae never mentioned her family. I trusted her judgment and didn’t push her. I’m sure she had reasons for leaving them behind. For a woman with such a big heart, they had to be good reasons.”

  Or maybe there were rules about human and not-so-human interactions. Lena wished, for once, she’d bothered to ask a few questions of her old comrades. “Seven years is a long time not to discuss family.”

  He hoisted his pack over his shoulders and then paused. “I brought it up a few times but sensed pain there, indecision, maybe. I finally decided whatever she didn’t want to tell me wasn’t worth causing a wedge between us. I loved her no matter what family problems were in her past. We had a safe place with each other. At least I thought so.” He adjusted his straps. “I wasn’t going to be the cause of any anxiety on that front.”

  Smart man. She headed toward the trail. “For what it’s worth, their presence confirms we’re in the right place. Shanae must have given them some notice she’d encountered trouble, but I suspect they don’t know the reasons any more than we do. I find it odd they didn’t mention Trevor. If Shanae didn’t tell them about your son, that’s a much bigger omission than not telling you about their existence. For right now, I’d like to keep a few cards close to the vest.” She halted and looked at Matthew, checking for a twitch, a blink, anything to signal he had a problem with a little deception on their part. “You okay with that?”

  He remained stoic, his haggard appearance strengthened by his clenched jaw. “You’re the expert. You’re also the only one on my side.”

  Good. Lena headed forward. Committed or not, he wouldn’t be much help to her if he folded this early. She passed the painted sign marking a park trail, and years of tightness in her chest loosened. No man-made sign could do justice to the majestic peaks that rose above the treetops. The park classified some areas as watersheds; others were raw and wild. Both had miles without roads or quick access to civilization. Her soul couldn’t wait.

  Her grandmother would have called this case kismet, dragging her into action when her joy and energy needed a kick in the butt. Her former business partner would have just called her insane. Whatever term anyone used, the tim
ing suited her. Maybe she needed closure as much as Matthew did.

  “They left quickly,” Matthew glanced around as if he expected Deacon and his crew to jump out from behind a tree.

  Lena might expect as much from Trim. She’d caught sight of them far up the trail through the ranger’s front window. While this territory was dangerous to cover alone, the threesome seemed determined to gain their advantage by splitting up. She counted on them using every skill they possessed, leaving only one option for her.

  “Wherever they are, they have a lead on us. Confession time, Matthew. What skills do you really have out here?”

  A furrow started between his brows. Evidently, he hadn’t expected her to doubt his abilities.

  “If you think I vetted you last night, you’d better get over that.” She appreciated the use of his tools, but juggling their constricting timeline required more substantial skills.

  His mouth moved as if forming his rebuttal.

  “We need to cut some corners if you want to get to your wife before her family does. You said you’d been in these mountains?”

  He clamped his mouth shut and nodded, seemingly unfazed by her brusqueness. “Shanae and I used to camp and hike a lot when we were first married, even when Trevor was a baby. She loved it out in the wilderness.”

  “What’s your climbing expertise?” She shook her head before he could answer and raised her palm toward him as she deposited her pack on the ground. “Don’t give me the guy speech. Can I trust you to spot for me, haul yourself safely, and not get me killed so we shave miles off our trail? Because I don’t think Shanae is lingering around the safe perimeter of the park. She’s headed home the most direct and reclusive way.”

  Another nod. “I’m good for grade three climbing. Done a little grade five, nearly vertical, in Yosemite before Trevor was born. I wouldn’t risk that much with another person involved.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  He inhaled and stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced around. “My work. I wanted to get my business going, and I didn’t have the time to take weekends off.” He turned back. “Shanae said she understood. I guess I should have paid more attention to what she didn’t say.”

  “Well, now’s not the time for contemplation, and I’m not your marriage counselor. You’ll have plenty of time for that once we find her.”

  “That’s fair. I’m certified for climbing and wilderness foraging through the Fairchild Air Force Base.” He shrugged and offered a glimmer of a smile. “I test the equipment I create—prove credibility. Won’t do anyone any good if I’m clueless and my stuff gets someone killed.”

  “Good.” She sorted through her supplies for the items to prep her vest.

  He dropped his pack as well, putting on a worn vest. Trimming the loops and pockets with D-rings and hooks, he gave another look toward the direction in which Deacon’s team had disappeared. “Do you believe that they know where they are going?”

  She paused and glanced toward the mountains. “Their speed and lack of hesitation indicates familiarity. I think they have a good idea of where Shanae might go, but this is still miles of land. With your equipment, we have an edge to find her faster. We’ll need a high peak to search for warm bodies or recent campfires. The trails will be steep, challenging even if we don’t do much climbing, and we don’t have time for injuries.”

  “So for now, we’re going in the right direction.” His stiff jerky movements hid nothing. The man was scared shitless and frankly, she didn’t blame him. The ranger had been kind by not going into the extent of the dangers out here. If Shanae and her son were lucky, she and Matthew would find them in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

  Second best, Shanae’s family would find her and get them to safety.

  There were several other scenarios Lena didn’t think Matthew was ready to hear yet. If Shanae wasn’t running from her husband or her family, then an unknown and likely dangerous third group was out here looking for the mother and son as well. That had Lena’s blood rushing. “From here out, we move quickly and reassess every few hours. We’ll do that until we find her.”

  He lowered his head, accepting the deal. Not before Lena saw him blink rapidly.

  Presented with a moment’s peace after Wharton and Trim headed toward their search sectors, Deacon crossed his arms and stared through the trees at Lake Koocanusa. The incident in the ranger’s office still shocked him on several levels, and the alpha in him sought focus with regard to Lena Juarez.

  He’d smelled the gun oil from at least two weapons and what looked like a knife outlined beneath Lena Juarez’s left breast. A quick head-to-toe assessment provided the hint of one more knife, the hilt nearly camouflaged inside her boot top. Another was openly strapped to her thigh.

  After years of training with strong, intelligent women, Deacon wasn’t sure which issue to focus on first. The human female packing power and steel and challenging him intrigued him. The accusation against her of premeditated shifter murder distracted the alpha and the wolf enough to search for evidence exonerating the woman they both recognized as mate.

  A growl barely under control rumbled at the thought, though the idea was equally ridiculous to the man as well.

  The swell of her sadness, regret, and longing when she answered his questions absolved her in his mind of being a killer. If that hadn’t been enough, she’d handled Trim’s confrontation with an even keel and a sense of humor. Her defense of Matthew Philmont proved a protective instinct as well, even though he was human.

  He didn’t doubt a hidden story lay behind Grant Sander’s death. One Lena Juarez still carried with her, if her tight rein on her emotions was any indication. Time and investigation would tell, but he suspected the feelings she held for his kind were the opposite of hatred.

  What concerned him more was his immediate disregard for every rule he’d accepted during his command as alpha when the ranger had announced her name. Desperate to find evidence in her responses of any guile, deceit, or malice, he’d forced his power through her body, searching blood pressure, body temperature, nerve responses, and any emotional indicator he could find. A total invasion of her person that deserved the harshest punishment he could levy. He’d hurt her, the pain not only obvious in her expression, but her visceral shock mirrored itself inside him.

  He’d been helpless to resist. For with one simple touch, he’d encountered his mate. A human. One on a mission doomed to interfere with his own. He needed instant closure on the charges of premeditated shifter murders.

  His wolf bucked for release, disbelieving her guilt and wanting its mate. His human side responded with equal fervor to vindicate her. At one point, he’d delved so deeply within her to verify her innocence, he’d almost lost his self-control.

  Lena’s anguish during the ranger’s announcement of her former job almost sucked Deacon into a depressive well with her. She’d handled her reactions—barely. Her past held heartache and disappointment, not hate and satisfaction. His centuries of experience had exposed him to too many killers not to know the difference. The question was how his people had covered her participation with them in the fringes of his world without his knowledge.

  Then there was the underlying lemon and jasmine scent still permeating his nostrils and coating his tongue. He’d fought the urge to lift her hand to his lips and taste her skin.

  Trim would at least have been amused that Lena’s tempting scents resulted in the first uncontrollable swell of lust he’d experienced since adolescence. That was, if she hadn’t taken an adversarial stance with the former park ranger at first sight. Another good reason to leave his second in command off the need-to-know list for the Hansen case for the time being.

  Lena Juarez was an attractive woman. He’d stared at her long enough to memorize the shades of red and rich brown in her waist-long braid and find the oval shape of her eyes and thick lashes mesmerizing. Her lips, a subtle mauve, almost caused his beast to surface. Both appreciated a self-assured woman. The confident,
annoyed gleam in her eye when she realized they were searching for the same person intrigued him. What he enjoyed about her the most—she didn’t back down from him.

  She’d failed on her responses about Shanae. Deceit was too strong a term, but she’d parried and evaded answers.

  Alpha status clearly didn’t register in her hemisphere. He didn’t trigger any annoying fear or kowtowing that infected some of his people. Not that she was unaffected. Light traces of her unease had whisked in the air for a second. Right before she moved closer and issued her silent challenge.

  One taste of her wouldn’t suffice for him. He’d need hours, first to unravel that long braid of hair and run his fingers through the fall. Then he’d explore every inch of her as he rubbed that hair over his body.

  A strangled growl burst free. Shaking his head, he gulped in air, dispelling lemon pine. Hell, I am out of control.

  Shocking, but no one had challenged his willpower in a long time. He laughed, not able to remember when a challenge had felt so good.

  His cell phone’s vibration in the pouch around his neck jerked him from his thoughts. Tantalized or not, he needed proof to clear Lena. He wasn’t lust-sick enough to discount the importance of investigating the charges against her. An importance that had risen to a critical level, for both the integrity of the clan and the safety of his mate.

  “What did you find out?” he asked.

  “How far back do you want to go?” Grizz said.

  “To the relevant parts.” Deacon would sort through Grizz’s detailed written version at his leisure.

  “The PI is former National Park Ranger. Did the summer intern thing at several parks during college. Was offered one of the few full-time park service positions available after graduation. Received credentials as a ranger medic and search and rescue liaison. She was awarded the Department of the Interior Medal of Valor, which sounds good, but collectively those under her command received six medals over her eight-year tenure.”

  “She trained for challenges.”

  “You might say she was born to them. Her parents died in a car accident when she was four. Ms. Juarez was the only survivor—found on the side of the road.”