Lindsay McKenna - The Loner

“She’s out in my cruiser and doing fine.” Shelby frowned and dug into Jordana’s gaze, confused.

“I’ve got a deal for you, Dakota,” Jordana said, her voice suddenly firm and brooking no argument. “If Deputy Kincaid will consent to drive you to her house, which isn’t far from the hospital, and let you stay overnight, I’ll release you. I know how you hate hospitals and closed-in spaces. Deal?”

The look of shock on Barbie doll’s face told Dakota she wasn’t prepared to have him as a visitor. “No way, Doc. As soon as I’m able to wear off this damned anesthesia, I’m outta here and you know it whether you sign a release on me or not.”

Jordana’s beeper went off. She pulled it out of her white coat pocket. Frowning, she said, “I’ve got to go.” Looking over at Shelby, she said, “Talk some sense into him, will you? Because I refuse to sign him out of here unless he goes home with you.”

Surprised, Shelby found herself alone with a man who exuded danger to her heart. His face was washed out, but now there was a flush in his cheeks, at least. “Mr. Carson, are you staying in this hospital?”

Dakota studied her beneath his spiky lashes. He felt and heard the authority in her tone. She wore no makeup, but God, she didn’t have to. He liked what he saw way too much. He’d been without a woman for too long. And she had a great body beneath that uniform.

“How’s my wolf?” he demanded, ignoring her question.

“Storm is fine. I gave her a bowl of water just before I came in here.” Shelby met his belligerent glare. “Are you in pain?”

“No more than usual.”

“I see.”

“You don’t, but that’s all right.”

Testy bastard, she thought. “Look, I need some answers on why you killed that grizzly this morning.”

Okay, she was going to play tough. “Because it charged me,” he growled. “I know it’s illegal to shoot a bear in a national park, Deputy Barbie Doll.” He really didn’t dislike her, but his mood was blacker than hell. The drugs were loosening his normally reined-in irritability.

“My name is Shelby Kincaid.”

He smiled a little. It was a tight, one-cornered smile. Did Dakota dare tell her she was a feast for his hungry gaze? The anesthesia was wearing off fast now, and he felt some returning strength. “Okay, Deputy Kincaid. I was out to pick up my trapline in a stand of willows when the bear came out of nowhere and charged me.” He stared up at her. “What was I supposed to do? Let the bastard kill me because it was out of season?”

Her mouth twitched. “No,” she said. Pulling a small notebook from her pocket, she wrote down his explanation. “Why are you out trapping animals?”

“Because I choose to. That’s not against the law.”

“No, it’s not. Where do you live? I need an address.”

“Third mountain to the north in the Tetons. Where I live, there is no address.”

“Try me. I was raised here. I think I know just about every dirt road in this county.”

“Do you know how beautiful you are when you’re pissed?”

Shelby leaked a grin. This ex-SEAL took no prisoners. Neither did she. “Thanks, but let’s stick to the investigation?”

Shrugging, Dakota actually found himself enjoying her spirited conversation. In some ways, Shelby reminded him of his late sister, Ellie. Both had a lot of spunk and spirit. A sudden sadness descended upon him and he scowled. “The bear charged me. I shot the bear. End of story.” Her blue eyes narrowed. Still, he savored her husky voice. It reminded him of honey, sweet and dark. He looked at her left hand. No wedding ring. He assumed she was in a relationship. A woman this damned good-looking would have men hanging around her.

“Tell me where you live.”

Dakota sighed. “I’ll give you GPS coordinates if you know how to use them. It’s on a no-name dirt road. It doesn’t even have a forest service designation number to it.”

“Which mountain?”

“Mount Owen,” he growled. “Now do you know where it’s at?”

Shelby stood her ground with the ex-SEAL. She reminded herself that he was still coming out of shock and surgery. “I do. When I was a teen, I was up tracking in that area many times with my dad.”

“Tracking?” Dakota certainly didn’t expect that answer. He was a damned good SEAL tracker. He’d spent years tracking Taliban and al Qaeda in the Hindu Kush Mountains.

“Why so surprised?” Shelby grinned at him. If Dakota wasn’t so testy and sour, she’d like his company. If he didn’t have that two-day growth of beard, he’d be a cover model for GQ. He was in top, athletic shape and she liked the way his thickly corded neck and shoulders moved.

“Tracking isn’t exactly what I expected to hear coming out of your mouth.”

“Surprises abound, Mr. Carson. There’s an old miner’s shack up at eight thousand feet on a narrow dirt road. It was pretty well in ruin the last time I was in that area. There’s an old sluice box next to the creek. That shack sits about fifteen feet from the creek. At one time, gold was found in the Tetons, but the miners exhausted it.” She studied him. “Now, is that the cabin where you live?”

Amazed, he simply uttered, “Yeah, that’s it.” How the hell did Deputy Barbie Doll figure out his hiding place? Dakota found himself readjusting his attitude. There was more to her than he thought. And it triggered a curiosity in him he rarely felt. Most women he’d been with in the far past were interested in getting married, having kids and settling down. As a SEAL, he was in a two-year cycle, with six months of it being deployed into the badlands of Afghanistan. It didn’t leave much time to cultivate an honest-to-God relationship with a woman, which was why all of his entanglements crashed and burned.

“So, you were heading for your trapline when the bear charged you?”

“Yes, it’s that simple.”

“Do you have a phone?”

He managed a sour laugh. “Up there? You know there’s no phone or electric lines up to that shack.” Dakota saw her face go dark for a moment. She obviously didn’t like being reminded about the obvious.

“Cell phone,” Shelby amended in a firm tone. What was it about this guy? He was positively bristling and his hackles rose in a heartbeat. It was like flipping a switch off and on with him. Yet when his mouth relaxed and his eyes lost that glitter of defensiveness, she saw another man beneath that grouchy exterior. She liked that man and found herself wanting to know him better. Much better.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I got one.” He gave her the number and added, “Of course, I get, maybe, one or two bars, depending on the storms up there at that elevation.”

“I know,” she said, writing the info down on her pad.

“How would you know?”

She felt the gauntlet thrown at her feet once more. His eyes were dark with distrust. “Because,” she answered in an unruffled tone, “I was tracking a lost child up in that same area a year ago. I found the lost boy I’d been tracking. When I tried to call in on my cell, I couldn’t get a signal.”

Surprise flowed through Dakota. “You tracked a lost boy?” This blew his mind. Women did not know how to track.

“Yes.” Shelby kind of resented his genuine surprise. He wasn’t the only one with skills. Then the sudden relaxation came to his face. Interest glimmered in those gold-brown eyes of his. She felt a shiver of yearning move through her as the look he gave her was primal, sexual. What was happening here? Stunned by her own reaction toward this snarly ex-SEAL, Shelby said, “Let’s stick to the facts, Mr. Carson.”

Dakota opened his mouth and then closed it. He regarded her with a little more deference. “The only thing women can track is a sale price of clothing at a department store.”