each seen the very small tattoo of a gray wolf inside their left forearms at their pulse point, a spot normally concealed by their wristwatches, the three had known they were brothers in arms.
That knowledge had strengthened their friendship although they’d never spoken of their affiliation or their assignments. Neither Ben nor he knew Riley’s code name, but an awareness of the role they shared had created a formidable bond between them despite the fact that agency policy dictated the investigators remain anonymous, even to each other, except under dire circumstances.
The reasoning for that rule was admittedly sound. As investigators, their ability to go undercover as well as their safety would have been severely compromised if their identities weren’t guarded.
As an added precaution for the investigators who lived and worked in the same area, the agency’s P.I.s, as a general rule, were prohibited from actively trying to identify the other members of the Pack, or if by chance they already knew another member, from fraternizing in public. This would prevent someone who knew one of them was a Gray Wolf from identifying the others by checking on his associates.
The tattoo itself carried the most risk, of course, but it served a vital function. Special care had been taken to make it small, and easily concealable by a wristwatch, but in case one of the investigators ever needed emergency assistance—when undercover and with a fake ID, for example—the small tattoo would always insure allies had a way to identify each other.
As Daniel pulled out into the street, Wolf moved sideways, panting in Daniel’s ear.
“Wolf, give me some room, will ya? Only ladies are allowed to blow in my ear.”
The animal gagged as if he’d just eaten grass.
“Can the sarcasm.” He’d never wanted to work with a dog, but Handler hadn’t given him a choice. Since all the Gray Wolf operatives were expected to work alone, Handler provided Wolf when backup would be a benefit.
The problem was, Daniel had never been a dog person. As far as he was concerned, having an animal around, especially one the size of Wolf, was just one more complication. Still, he couldn’t deny the big beast was smart, and had made himself useful on every job they’d been paired for.
“For your information, our mission this time concerns a lady, so try to keep the dog hair and slime off the seats.”
Wolf stared at him a moment, then turned to look out the window.
A BRIEF STOP at the tribal police station in Shiprock gave Daniel his first lead. One of his ex-colleagues had reported passing a car driven by a woman resembling the photo Daniel had showed him, though he’d only had a glimpse of her and couldn’t be sure. He’d thought he’d heard her honk as he drove by and glanced back, but she’d turned off the road and had seemed to be all right, so he’d gone on to answer the emergency call he’d been assigned.
On the strength of that information, although the description of the car didn’t seem to match Hannah Jones’s vehicle, Daniel drove farther into the Reservation until he reached the narrow paved road that led through the foothills and piñon forest. Out of habit he checked his rearview mirror periodically and, before long, spotted a vehicle in the distance.
Heeding the prickle at the base of his neck, he turned off the road at the next dirt path, then looped back. He’d either lose whoever it was, or end up behind them, if he was being followed.
He waited, watching in both directions, but the highway appeared empty. Confident now that the vehicle he’d seen hadn’t been a tail, he continued on his way.
Daniel kept turning off on side roads, looking for houses where Hannah Jones might have gone to ground, but he found no sign that anyone had passed that way recently. Eventually, he reached a place that had a new gate locking the access road and a fence that suggested there was a house or dwelling somewhere farther up the hill. The Private Property sign on the gate backed that idea up.
There was only one way to find out if Hannah Jones had come this way. Daniel parked beside the padlocked gate and climbed out of his vehicle. Checking the ground he saw footprints.
Retrieving the paper sack from the back of the SUV, Daniel came around to the passenger side and opened the door. He held up the cotton blouse the deacon had provided in front of the dog’s nose, allowing him to catch the scent.
“Wolf, track!”
Daniel opted not to leash the dog, knowing Wolf would work faster in this rough terrain without it, and in the event they met trouble, they’d both need room to maneuver.
The dog walked down the road, sniffing the ground, then suddenly froze, pawing at the dirt. Wolf barked sharply, then dug beneath the fence and shot up the slope on the other side.
Daniel climbed over the wire fence, and followed him. It didn’t take long to reach a modern-looking cabin hidden among a stand of tall Ponderosa pines. Wolf was near some waist-high brush, again pawing the ground. The sound of a stream was close by, somewhere to Daniel’s right.
Below the cabin was a redwood deck jutting out over a deep pool fed by the stream. A woman was kneeling at the edge of the deck, washing something in the pond. Her glossy black hair cascaded down her back, caressing creamy white skin.
She was wearing only a thin, light pink bra, and bikini panties with images of a popular cartoon mouse all over them.
Though her whimsical choice of panties amused him, there was nothing funny about the way his body reacted to the sight of her.
She stood up, holding the blouse that she’d just washed, and turned to look around, almost as if she’d sensed his presence. Her bra and panties, dampened from her efforts to clean her clothes, now clung to her like second skin, revealing clearly what lay beneath.
Daniel reminded himself to breathe. Hannah Jones was innocence and raw sensuality all rolled up in one devastating package. The photo of her he had in his jacket pocket didn’t even come close to doing her justice. Her perfectly proportioned body cried out for a man’s touch.
Miss Jones was a living, breathing temptation but, as tantalizing as she was, he had to push those thoughts aside and focus on the job he’d been sent to do. He wasn’t a teenager ruled by his hormones. He was a man, a professional investigator, with a job to do.
As she draped the shirt over a nearby tree branch to dry, Wolf crashed through the brush and leaped onto the deck, landing less than five feet away from her.
She gave a startled cry, and Daniel caught the look of stark terror on her face as Wolf moved closer.
Holding her hands up to ward off the dog, Hannah Jones took a step back, then another. Daniel started to call out a warning, but it was already too late. The woman slipped on the wet deck, and tumbled backwards into the water.
Chapter Two
Normally, the absurdity of the situation might have made Daniel laugh, but the way Hannah Jones was flailing in the water warned Daniel that she didn’t know how to swim.
Daniel shot forward, pausing only to yank off his boots as he reached the redwood deck. A heartbeat later, he was in the water.
The pond was as cold as ice, but Daniel had swum all his life in ditches and rivers that were equally as cold. He reached Hannah in seconds
