He smiled into the dark. A fascinating list.
“Like you,” she added, surprising him by teasing. “Do you trust yourself?”
“Of course. But this undercover op may be getting awfully big.”
“Well, I can talk to them myself, but you’d be safer out there if they knew what you were doing.”
He should probably think about it. “Let’s not tell anyone just yet. I’ll give it some thought, but for now I’m just an old friend visiting. Anyone who would doubt that?”
“Not really. I know people around here, but I’ve only been in this area for five years. There’s a lot about my past no one would know in any detail.”
That was an advantage he supposed. “Regardless, I need to know some of that past and how I fit in because somebody’s going to ask questions.”
She hesitated. “You going to take up the offer of the bunkhouse?”
“Now that you’ve announced me, I suppose I should.” He’d come out here with one plan only, to keep his eyes peeled for questionable activity and to try to draw a threat his way. Somehow, everything was changing. His plan about appearing to be trying to get close to her hadn’t involved sharing quarters. He’d better get on it before it all went sideways.
Kel went back to the motel to gather his personal gear. Desi wondered if she were busy losing her mind. The guy had come out here to try to stick his head in a noose, and she was inviting him to stay with her?
She paced her small apartment, reminding herself that he’d suggested that looking like he was cozying up to her would fit the role he was playing. Well, this was going to get really cozy now.
She knew that some of these illegal outfitters could net upward of fifty thousand dollars in a hunting season. Because they stayed small to avoid trouble and notice, they didn’t guide as many hunts, and didn’t provide all the comforts. Two or three guys, a tent, trail food and bring your own gun. But still cheaper because they took hunters who weren’t licensed, which was a big savings for the nonresident hunter, and a savings for them because they didn’t do the big production method.
They might have a few horses to pack into the wilderness, but they could run only one hunt at a time and didn’t have the cost of a large stable. On the one hand, on the other hand. Trade-offs. She remembered one outfit that kept operating long after their license had expired...and got caught only because somebody who was considering hiring them actually checked out their outfitters license listed on the webpage.
But Kel was after something that was apparently breaking itself into small pieces to avoid notice. A group steadily sinking below the radar. A group taking game it held no permits for.
Kel was running a big risk. The loss of money, the possible jail time, the fines...yeah, it could get dangerous going after people who faced that.
But first they had to be found. She wondered if any other officers with the WIU were in other locations doing the exact same thing. Probably.
Sighing, tired of thinking about the job all the time, she put some music on her stereo, something quiet but upbeat, started some coffee, then hopped in her shower for a quick wash.
She realized she didn’t have much of a life anymore, outside her work. Maybe she’d become obsessed? She promised herself that after this season was over, she would find something to do with her time that in no way resembled her job. Maybe hang out with the girls as Julie and Connie kept suggesting. She’d worked awfully hard to become a senior warden so early in her career, and she guessed she’d become a little distorted in the process.
Work all the time? That had to stop.
She was wearing some casual sweats when she heard Kel rap on her door. Yep, he was taking her up on the bunk. She went to let him in, saying, “Straight back, the door at the end of the hall.”
“Thanks.” He smiled at her and carried his duffel over his shoulder, marching away.
It was, she thought sourly, a sign of her fatigue that she’d made this offer, especially to a man she found so attractive. She could almost smell trouble in the air, like smoke in the breeze.
Oh, well. She plopped on her sofa, put her sock-covered feet up and worked on a mug of coffee. She was lucky that caffeine never kept her up.
Kel returned a few minutes later.
“There’s coffee if you want any.”
“Thanks. Think you’re done for the night?”
“Who knows? Flexible hours sometimes means all of them.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’m familiar with that.”
She watched him stride around the edge of the couch and sit in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. “Get-acquainted time,” she said. “When did you leave the Rangers?”
His dark gray eyes studied her. “Three years ago, after I tore up my knees so bad they gave me a medical discharge.”
She sat up a little straighter. “Did they fix them for you?”
“I can still walk. The pain doesn’t count, so the answer is no.”
“That stinks.”
“I’m not so sure I want artificial knees just yet. These are still working.”
She sipped some more coffee, aware that emotions were trying to edge into this picture. She wasn’t sure she should let them. Keeping a reasonable distance from entanglements had so far served her well. “That’s tough.”
“That’s what they make ibuprofen for. I’m okay.”
“And then?”
“After the Rangers?” He smiled and sipped coffee. “I decided I wanted to do something constructive from there on out. I was lucky to get hired by Game and Fish, took all the training, and then for reasons known only to the Fates, I was assigned to WIU.”
She smiled faintly. “Do you wish they’d made you a warden?”
“I did at first,” he admitted, then looked a bit rueful. “I think I had a romanticized view of what you do.”
“Hah!” She slapped her thigh. “I did, too, once upon a time. But even if it’s not romantic, it’s important. Like last spring when I rescued an orphaned mountain lion cub. That made up for a whole lot.”
“I bet it did.”
She hopped up and went to her small personal desk to open a drawer. Pulling out a photo, she walked over and handed it to him. “That’s me and the cub.”
“My God, it’s cute.” He stared and smiled, before passing it back.
She tossed it on the coffee table and resumed sprawling on the sofa.
