Elizabeth Goddard - Undercover Protector

He shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Why do you ask?”

“I could use help educating the public about what we’re doing here. I want them to know why the cats need this place. I want to teach everyone about the endangerments the big cats face in the wild and in captivity. And about poaching and trafficking.”

“Now that I can do.” He wondered if he sounded a little too eager, too knowledgeable about the topic that was the basis of his career. But Gemma had no reason to suspect he was a special agent investigating Tiger Mountain, unless, of course, she was guilty.

Gemma led him deeper into the sanctuary, the moon finally filtering through the storm clouds and casting odd, dappled shadows through the refuge. Would it rain or not? Gemma still used her flashlight to chase away the shadows, and, by the way she continually shined the light into the dark corners, he knew she was taking his warnings seriously. Or her wariness could have to do with the vandalism, whatever trouble the saboteurs had been causing for her.

Finally they came upon a habitat with a pacing tiger and when the growl came, Gray knew this tiger was the one causing the ruckus. Pausing at the cage, Gemma sighed. “This is Kayla. She came from El Paso where she was chained in a too-small concrete cage for a roadside attraction at a truck stop. Someone bred tigers there too and sold the cubs to people who stopped in to get gas. She’s usually very calm. Something’s disturbed her.”

He heard the frustration in her voice and more—she expected to find something wrong, such as more vandalism. Gemma walked the perimeter of the enclosure, shining her flashlight around.

Gray kept up with her, leaning in close to whisper. “I’m thinking now would be a good time to tell me what you’re expecting to find. What has someone been doing to scare you like this?”

She gasped and jumped into him, dropping the flashlight. “That. That’s what I’m looking for.” Gemma pointed at something inside the habitat.

“Stay back.” Gray grabbed the flashlight and pushed her behind him, not having a clue what she’d seen.

Then he found it. What was it, exactly? His mind was slow to wrap around it.

“It’s a doll. Supposed to be me, slashed up and covered with blood.”

Frowning, Gray shook his head, wishing he could have removed the doll before Gemma had seen it. But, considering her certainty after just one look, he realized she’d seen this kind of thing before. What he didn’t know was if the person or persons responsible also had murder on their mind.

His first impression of her—that she was about to make trouble for him—had been all wrong. No. Gemma Rollins wasn’t making trouble.

She was in trouble. In deep.

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