maybe he was, but that didn’t change his basic makeup: namely, a cop from a cop family. What was more, she had her answer. He was trying to play her.
Tugging her arm from his grip, she regarded him coolly. “Level with me, then. How high is the risk really, Detective?”
“Too high.” But when she just kept looking at him, he glanced away and made an annoyed sound. “Look, it’s nothing solid at this point, or else you’re right, your people or mine would’ve already called things off. But some of the cops on the task force—good cops, people I trust—say their guts are telling them that the militia is still in the area. There’ve been some signs.” He looked back at her, his eyes making her think once more of clear, still lakes and reflected skies. But there was zero sunshine in his voice when he continued, “If I’m under orders to keep you safe, then I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t suggest that you hold off on your investigation until we’re sure the area is secure. The Forgotten has been there for a long time—another few weeks or months won’t make a difference to the trees.”
It wasn’t what he said that had annoyance bubbling up inside her; it was the way he said it, with practically a verbal pat on the head. Stop being so dramatic, the woods will be fine. And even if they’re not, who cares? There are lots of trees in the forest—ha ha.
And wasn’t that just typical? she thought as anger flared to replace the heat of his touch. “For your information, Detective, we’re not just talking about trees here. This could be the beginning of a widespread ecological collapse that could take out the native wildlife in the area … including the last remaining wild population of barred eagles that we know of. Not to mention that weeks or months absolutely could make a difference when it comes to a fast-moving infection and the disruption it can cause to a fragile ecosystem. In fact, days could make a difference, which is why I canceled a speaking engagement and fast-tracked a grant application 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
