“We both know that’s not brown. It’s auburn, and that combination of brown and red is unreal. Mostly.” He looked down at the dog sitting patiently at his side. “Right, Aeneas?”
Laurel tilted her head to study the canine. His markings were unique: a white hourglass shape across his face, surrounded by black fur. The white fur continued down his chest and covered each paw. “Aeneas? As in Homer’s Iliad?”
“More like Virgil’s Aeneid,” Huck returned.
A chilly wind blasted her, and she rubbed her arms. “He’s beautiful.”
Huck opened the door wider and gestured her inside. “Where the hell is your coat?”
“In Washington DC.” She stepped inside a sparsely furnished cabin that was messy but fairly clean.
“Why?” He stood much taller than she, even in his sock-covered feet. His left sock had a hole in the toe. Two duffel bags, a folded tent, and muddy boots had been dropped by the other side of the door.
“This was an unexpected detour.” She looked at the gear. “Are you going somewhere?”
Captain Rivers shut the door. “What can I do for you, Laurel Snow?” He crossed his arms while his dog remained patiently at his side, both of them looking like predators in a calm mood.
She faced him directly. Appealing to his need to protect would be her best move. “I am with the FBI and need a guide up Snowblood Peak. It has been years since I headed that way, and I could use help.”
“Why?”
She paused. “What do you mean, why? They’ve found at least three dead bodies, and there are no doubt more. I’d like to observe the scene before the weather wipes out the evidence. Will you at least let me borrow an ATV?” What kind of Fish and Wildlife captain didn’t want to investigate the scene of a murder himself?
“What are you talking about?” His jaw hardened.
“This morning bodies were found.” She looked at the gear by the door and then at the dog. “Oh, I understand. You were training out in the wilderness.” That also explained why he and the dog looked so rough. “That’s why you don’t know anything about the dead bodies, right, Captain Rivers?”
“Huck. My dad was Captain Rivers.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, ruffling the heavy waves even more. “You’re right. I’ve been unplugged for three days up in the mountains training with Aeneas. No service. Just got back thirty minutes ago and was going to grab something to eat. What’s this about dead bodies?”
Laurel condensed the report for him, and he was shoving his feet in the muddy boots and grabbing the heavy-looking flannel coat off the packs before she’d finished.
“Let me know where you’re staying in town, and I’ll call you after I’ve reviewed the scene.” He moved toward the front door.
“No.” She crossed her arms.
He paused. “Excuse me?” Apparently the captain wasn’t accustomed to people disregarding his orders.
“I’m here to do a job, and it’s important for me to view the scene.” Although she was going to freeze. Hopefully his UTV contained a heater. “Either we go together, or I find a UTV myself and drive up there. I believe it would be much more efficient if we worked this in tandem.” In fact, she could use his knowledge of the area. Though she’d grown up in Genesis Valley, she had left at age eleven, so it wasn’t as if she truly knew her way around.
“I don’t have time to babysit you on the mountain,” he said, his voice a low growl that most people probably heeded.
Laurel had dealt with a few of the darkest criminal minds there were. One cranky mountain man couldn’t deter her. “I don’t require a babysitter. I do, however, require an authorized Fish and Wildlife officer to escort me out into the wilderness and provide background information. Are you, or are you not, that officer?”
Instead of answering, he strode to a hall closet and quickly unlocked a safe cemented into the wall above the top shelf. Without turning, he withdrew a badge on a chain and a black gun that looked like a Smith & Wesson M&P 2.0. She made another mental note about him. Washington’s Fish and Wildlife officers were fully commissioned police officers. He strapped a tactical holster to his left thigh and around his waist, tucking the gun safely against his leg. “Lady? I don’t need you with me.”
“It’s agent, not lady, and I don’t care what you need.” She kept her temper at bay because it would serve no purpose to become angry.
His low sigh was long suffering. “Fine. You can come with me, because I’ll just be called out to rescue your ass if you go alone.”
Her temper started to stir, apparently not caring that it would accomplish nothing to smack him on the nose. “As much as I appreciate your belief that not only do I need a knight in slightly muddy armor, but that you could also possibly be that rescuer, I promise I require only your knowledge and not any of your no doubt impressive mountain-man skills.” Her voice was just calm enough to sound slightly haughty, and she was fine with that fact. So much for using his protective nature to get her way.
His grin was quick and a surprise, making him look much more approachable. Almost human. Then it disappeared completely. “You’re cute when you get your panties in a bunch.”
He did not just say “panties” to her. Was he trying to tick her off enough that she’d leave in a huff? Since he waited for a response, that had obviously been his plan of attack. So she smiled. “I’m not wearing any, Captain.” Then she met his gaze, and it was his turn to be thrown off stride.
His eyes slowly darkened from light topaz to the deep stout color of a good beer. “Fair enough.” With that very minor concession, he turned back to the closet and tossed her a dark blue parka. “Why aren’t you dressed for the weather?”
“I was in LA,” she said, slipping her arms into the thick material and zipping it up. The coat engulfed her, reaching to her knees.
He grabbed gloves and a knit hat for her, before looking down at her feet. “I don’t have snow boots your size.” Shaking his head, he reached into the rear of the closet on the floor and dragged out well-worn, women’s leather hiking boots. “These aren’t for snow, but they’re better than what you’re wearing.” He pushed them her way.
“Thanks. Whose boots?” She slipped out of her flats and inserted her feet in the scratched boots, even though she was just wearing thin socks. The boots were slightly too small, so she didn’t ask to borrow heavier socks. They wouldn’t fit.
“Old girlfriend’s,” he said. “Broke up a while ago.”
Apparently the ex didn’t need her boots. Laurel might not be a PR person, but even she knew how to extend an olive branch so the remainder of the evening would go more smoothly. She did need his assistance, after all. “I appreciate your assistance.”
He pulled leather gloves on his hands. “I’m not a helpful guy, so please remember that in the future and don’t end up abandoned on my doorstep again. For now, I’m going to check out the crime scene, and you might as well come along. But walk where I tell you to walk and don’t cause me any more problems than you already have.”
Well. All right then.