Linda Johnston - Loyal Wolf

And, potentially, protect them. She had taken her weapon from where she had locked it in her glove compartment and now wore it at her hip.

The night was dark, especially with the canopy of trees looming overhead, obliterating the light from the half moon and the stars that, in as remote and unlighted an area as this, usually lit up the sky in identifiable constellations. And she had been right. It was unpleasant to come to this area at night, especially alone. But she had little choice.

She had carefully stayed on the road, walking slower than she would have liked but trying to make as little noise as possible, staying off the cover of dry leaves on the ground yet trying to remain invisible at the edge of the road. Making her way in the darkness. Staying careful, and as aware of her surroundings, and her solitude, as she possibly could.

That way, it took her a long time to catch up.

She had finally reached the house, looked inside a window, saw Ralf there in the faint illumination of a flashlight—but not Jock.

Had he tried to get inside the compound alone?

Bad move, she’d thought. What if he were seen?

Maybe he’d only intended to walk the perimeter outside the fence, just to take an initial look in the dark when he was less likely to be noticed. That made sense to her.

She’d decided to go check, just in case.

Still careful to walk as silently as possible, she had left the house with Ralf inside and hurried toward the road to the compound.

She’d wished she could use a flashlight, but at least her eyes had acclimated to the darkness. She had soon seen the light from the guardhouse and slipped behind the nearest trees, still carefully drawing closer to the area.

Then she’d started to slowly walk the perimeter. But then she had stopped. What was that?

Some kind of canine. It looked, from where she’d stood, like a German shepherd mix of some kind—but tawnier. Furrier. Like a wolf. A wild dog, maybe, that was part wolf.

As she’d watched, it seemed to smell the air in her direction. And then it moved on.

Moving cautiously, she tried to watch it but got only occasional glimpses of it. It appeared to stalk the compound outside the fence, like her—staying in the cover of the trees. It walked slowly, staring inside the enclosed area as if consciously observing what was there.

And then it disappeared. Even so, she continued to watch the area of the old ranch from her cover.

Now she had returned to an area not far from the driveway, hoping to see Jock, assuming he had come on foot to check the place out.

But after half an hour, she didn’t see him. She was tired. Disappointed. Maybe she had been wrong about what the Alpha Force members intended to do this night besides exclude her.

She still didn’t know what Ralf had been doing at that house. Where was Jock? Did it matter?

That wolf had most likely been hunting for food and had nothing to do with what else was going on around here.

Right?

But why was it she couldn’t quite accept that?

Still careful, she headed back to where she had parked her car.

Maybe she would get some answers tomorrow.

Chapter 4

“She was there.”

While still a wolf, Jock had loped through the woods back to the house near which he’d previously shifted. As planned, Ralf had gotten inside and had opened the door for him when he’d returned.

Jock had just morphed back to his human form. He’d grabbed the clothes that Ralf had folded neatly and left on a cleaned spot on the floor, then threw them on.

Now, inside the dismal and filthy hovel, he was dressed and angry and wanted to slam something. Except for spotting a few flaws in their security and some possible entry points, his initial observation had been totally inconclusive. He still had no sense of the extent of the likelihood for peril looming around the former ranch, but he definitely hadn’t ruled out the conceivability of those now staying there being at least skilled and dedicated terrorists and possible anarchists, as well.

He needed to get inside, though, to check for the extent of their weaponry.

Now he knew all his frustration was evident as he spoke to Ralf.

“Who? Kathlene? Where was she?” Ralf had placed his equipment on the floor and was now stowing it in his backpack again. He stopped, though, facing Jock in the dim glow of the flashlight he had left on for illumination.

“Near the old ranch, outside the fence like I was, also hiding in the woods. But I scented and heard her, then saw her. Damn the woman. She must have been following us. Does she like throwing herself into potential danger?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Ralf said drily. Which only made Jock want to slam something all the more, like the wall. Not Ralf, and certainly not Kathlene—although, had she been nearby, it wouldn’t have been outside the realm of possibility for him to grab and shake her.

And he knew what a bad idea that would be...touching her again at all. He’d want to kiss those defiant lips, and more.

Well, he would have time to cool down before seeing her at lunch again tomorrow.

By then he would have thought of a brilliant way to convince her to back off and let Ralf and him do their jobs.

At least he hoped so.

“Did she know it was you?” Ralf asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Of course not.” But Jock wondered nevertheless. Had she just shown up there because that was what she did—keeping an eye on the place where she thought a lot of dangerous people were gathering? That was a viable theory, of course. But unlikely for this evening.

Had she instead followed them—him?

That was something else he would have to check into tomorrow.

* * *

Kathlene was tired when she reported to work the next morning.

That wasn’t surprising. She hadn’t slept much.

Her mind kept buzzing around thoughts of her new Alpha Force best friends. Especially the so very sexy Jock Larabey, her supposed old buddy.

And their attempts to exclude her from the investigation.

Plus that strange visit of hers to the anarchists’ enclave last night, thinking she would see Jock hanging around outside, near where she was, after leaving Ralf at that old house...but instead seeing only a wolf.

A particularly strange-acting wolf...

Now, inside the sheriff’s station, in the assembly room waiting for the day’s instructions, she kept herself from yawning by sheer willpower.

The dozens of other deputies taking their seats on folding chairs around her would only rib her about it if they saw.

The noise around her was growing—loud male voices hailing each other, chairs being dragged around the wooden floor, shrill feedback from a microphone that Sheriff Melton Frawley’s top assistant, Undersheriff George Kerringston, was testing from the row of chairs up front that faced the rest.

Hardly any sound of female voices. Oh, yes, there were a couple of other deputies toughing it out like Kathlene. Or, actually, not like Kathlene. Deputy Betsy Alvers and Deputy Alberta Sheyne were perfectly happy being obedient underlings who did as Melton said, filling out paperwork at the station and bringing coffee to the big, brave men in the department.

The other couple of female deputies had resigned and moved away. There wasn’t even a local police department for them to join, since the county sheriff’s department was the only law enforcement in this area other than the state highway patrol on the major nearby roads. Only Kathlene attempted to keep up the job as they had once all known it.

That had become a daily fight. But she was no quitter.

And now, with her concerns about the apparent anarchists, she felt she owed it to the town, to the many people who remained her friends, to see this through.