Anne Duquette - Her Own Ranger

“I’ll say my duties take priority.”

Judging by her expression, Adoette didn’t seem convinced.

“The main thing is, she’ll be safe,” Carson reiterated. “No poacher would risk hurting her again—not with the massive publicity and official manhunt we saw after her first attack. That’s why Ray announced her arrival to the media.”

“Since you claim this is such a safe operation,” Adoette continued, “I want in. Ray won’t distract me.”

“Ray’s your life. He affects every move you make.” His voice was tinged with big-brother overtones—the wrong tack to take.

“Finding your father’s killers is your whole life. It affects every move you make,” she shot back.

“My situation is different.”

She switched back to English. “No, it isn’t. You’re just as obsessed with revenge as I’m obsessed with Ray, but at least I know what I’m up against. You can’t even prove that the poachers who killed Ferris are the ones who shot you. You’re just guessing! You can’t identify your enemy.”

Carson frowned but didn’t dispute her words.

“Don’t even think of shutting me out,” Adoette continued angrily. “Because if you won’t let me act as Alisha’s guide, I’ll follow you on NPS land and I’ll shadow you. Don’t forget, I own my airboat. I’ll be there the next time a bullet knocks you out of a canoe—and that’s something you should be grateful for!”

“Dammit.” His jaw tightened. “I won’t risk your safety again.”

“You won’t if I’m with Alisha. You owe me, Carson. I want in.”

Carson counted slowly to ten. “How does Ray figure into this?” he finally asked.

“Ray?”

“Yes. What’s in this for you?”

“Nothing.”

He’d heard that answer before, and it meant something. “Come on, Adoette. Spill.”

“I hate poachers on my land.”

“That’s a given. What else, younger sister?” he asked in Seminole.

It seemed that the kindness in his tone, more than the words themselves, had the desired effect.

“Oh, all right.” She slipped back into English. “It’s no big deal. I’ve decided to change from an invisible woman to a visible one.”

“Huh?” Her answer caught him totally by surprise.

“You heard me. I’m tired of Ray treating me like some dreary little wallflower. How can I compete against the casino hostesses dressed like this?” She flipped one hand disdainfully at the bright colors of the Seminole skirt, then at the beads around her neck, the strands added one by one since birth. They represented every special event in a female’s life until, by middle age, a woman wore so many, she could barely turn her head.

“You look beautiful to me.”

“Only because I’m your friend. To Ray, I look like something out of a history book. I sit at an ancient loom in my antiquated clothes and weave all day. Even on the airboats I dress like this, and I feel like an idiot when tourists snap my picture. It’s time for me to...to change my life. I want a more active role. Alisha Jamison is my chance to see how it’s done.”

“Adoette, you couldn’t even finish a year in college. You were too shy.”

“I was very young. I was away from home—and I didn’t have the proper motivation.” Adoette’s eyes narrowed. “I do now.”

Carson was suddenly conscious of Adoette’s curves; he remembered how her yearning gaze followed his cousin with a hunger that seemed to grow more and more every day.

“I’m not a kid, Carson. I know what I need to do.”

“Changing yourself because you want to change is one thing. Changing yourself for a man who isn’t interested in you is another.” Ordinarily such rare bluntness from him would have caused Adoette to burst into tears. Not now.

“I’m doing this for both of us,” she said urgently. “Ray’ll notice me by the time I’m finished—he won’t have a choice. I’ll get what I want, you’ll get what you want. Alisha Jamison and I flush the poachers onto NPS lands. I get Ray. And you get your father’s killers.”

Carson started to argue, then stopped and lightened his tone. “Whatever. But this isn’t TV, Adoette. Don’t be surprised if Ray doesn’t fall into your arms when you put on a pair of tight jeans and mascara. Besides,” he added, “Alisha Jamison’s high profile comes from risking her life on the job. She’s a crusader—not the type of woman you’ll want to emulate.”

Adoette’s patience was obviously at an end. “How do you know? Maybe she is.” She moved closer to the terminal gate, away from him. The first passengers were trickling through.

Carson was shaken by Adoette’s words and the pain that had prompted them. Denying who and what she was could only make matters worse. Still, letting Adoette go with Alisha Jamison might not be a bad thing. Carson had already accepted Ray’s help and originally planned to have him guide Alisha. This way, though, Ray would have an extra pair of eyes. Not only that, Adoette would be driving the airboat.... He felt responsible for her, but she’d be safe with Alisha and Ray, who, like Carson, carried a handgun. He could look after himself and the women, despite his distaste for the wetlands.

I have nothing to worry about.

Adoette noticed the couple first. Carson immediately recognized Alisha’s partner from Ray’s description. Josh Gregory was large-framed with graying hair and a handsome physique—although that positive first impression was marred by his loud voice. That’s got to be the producer. Carson deliberately hung back, letting Adoette greet the couple—giving him more time to study the woman at the man’s side.

Alisha Jamison wasn’t what he’d expected. She certainly wasn’t a thick-muscled glasses-wearing stereotype of the female bush observer. On the other hand, she was nothing like Adoette. There were no delicate curves, no fragile beauty. At first glance, Alisha Jamison seemed ron-of-the-mill ordinary—not tall or short, heavy or thin, striking or homely, just an average woman who would never grace a magazine cover but could easily be the girl next door.

Until he looked closer...

The eyes were an ordinary blue, but they were alive with interest, their gaze moving everywhere, missing nothing. The smile was more than polite—there was a hint of generosity in the subdued yet welcoming curve of her lips. The woman’s bearing was graceful, almost proud, with a certain dignity that reminded him of stone cuttings of Mayan royalty. No, he corrected himself. It reminds me of my own people.

She conducted herself in a manner that made those around judge her as definitely not average.

Men—including himself—found her attractive. Women, he noticed, including Adoette, found her a definite threat. He saw either awe or envy in the eyes of any woman looking at Alisha Jamison. She wore simple clothing, little makeup and no jewelry except a plain silver cross, but Alisha was the most desirable woman there. Carson had to fight down a surge of pure male excitement as Adoette led the travelers his way. He was surprised to find himself jealous as hell that Adoette reached Alisha’s side before he did.

This woman’s trouble. Big trouble.

Alisha Jamison’s gaze targeted him in the crowd. He saw her take in his appearance, the brown NPS uniform, and make the connection. She detached herself from the small group and approached him alone, her carryall slung over one shoulder, her hand outstretched.

“Mr. Ward? Alisha Jamison.”

Carson took her hand. There was self-assurance in the grip of those feminine fingers. “Welcome to Florida, Ms. Jamison.”

“Thank you, and please, it’s Alisha. Or Ali, if you prefer.”

“Then call me Carson.”

She released his hand. “Carson. If you could lead us to the baggage carousels...”