“I thought John Randolph with the Forest Service would have handled it.”
“Joint case,” I replied easily. The ranchers had been using tracking devices put on wolves for more than a university field study. They’d used them as guides to hunt and kill the animals far from private land. Killing endangered species was illegal, but the consequence was only a slap on the wrist, especially to a rich guy like Jenkins, whom we were about to confront. And killing a shifter wolf? Even more endangered, not that anyone knew about them.
“Meth is different,” he replied.
The house came into view. The sprawling rancher made of log and river rock was settled perfectly on a bluff. A porch wrapped around the entire home. Rocking chairs and hanging baskets of flowers made it welcoming, although I knew the greeting we’d get would be anything but.
I turned off the SUV’s engine, and felt my usual determination for catching a bad guy build. It was as simple as that, my job: seek justice, and put the bad guys away. Bob Jenkins was one, and I’d yet to make any charges stick that put him behind bars. Meth, though, and what Theo had dug up from his office, might just be what was needed. I wanted to rub my hands together in eagerness to see that done. “Let’s do this.”
Theo unclipped his seatbelt and looked to me. “If this guy’s as bad as I think, I’m looking forward to seeing him in cuffs. Not today, unfortunately, but letting him know we’re onto him, that while the meth is hitting as far away as Cheyenne, doesn’t mean there isn’t a trail. We want the fucker on edge when we leave. He’ll make a mistake then.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. Theo hadn’t met the older guy yet. In his mid-fifties, Jenkins had had decades to excel at being an asshole. I knew him from the wolf shooting incident, and other minor stir ups around town. He was smart. Rich. Powerful in the county, and one of two self-proclaimed leaders of a band of ranchers who met often at the diner in town. Hollaroy was the other, but Theo’s investigation had led us here, not to the other man’s ranch. Jenkins hadn’t made a mistake yet, so I wasn’t sure what would trip him up now. “He thinks he’s above the law,” I explained my thoughts to Theo in one sentence.
I opened my door and climbed out, squinting against the sun. The Two Marks pack lived up in the foothills, in the mountains that ringed the town. The valley was a different kind of beautiful, but I’d take the steep hills, thick trees, and cooler weather any day. I couldn’t think of anything that would get me to live down here.
Theo met me at the front of the SUV. He was taller by two inches, but I could take him, especially on a full moon run. We paced each other when we took a female together, working as an even pair to satisfy her, working off the run’s excess energy. The last time had been years ago, though. Maybe he’d stay for the next full moon. My dick got hard just thinking about having a little fun with him and a female again.
Maybe it was having him here that had thoughts about finding our mate coming up at the worst times. Like now.
I didn’t need to face Bob Jenkins with a hard dick in my uniform pants.
Theo didn’t wait, just went up the steps and rang the doorbell. He’d been waiting for this moment ever since leaving the state capitol. I followed, taking off my Stetson and standing off to the side of the doorway out of habit. I didn’t expect to be ambushed, but training was ingrained.
The door opened.
Several things hit me at once. Our lives were suddenly changed, and we were both totally fucked.
Not because of a gun or Bob Jenkins wanting us off his land.
No.
It was her.
Our mate.
The one. She was a fucking rancher. And human.
Her sweet scent took me down like a fucking Mack truck. That hard dick? Yeah, it wasn’t going down anytime soon.
I knew she was ours from one deep breath.
But looking at her… fuck.
Theo growled, and I stepped toward him and jabbed my elbow into his arm.
We stared at her. Took in her height—probably only two inches shorter than my six feet. Took in the long auburn braid that came over her shoulder. Her brown eyes that darted between the two of us. Her full lips. The swells of her breasts beneath a University of Wyoming t-shirt. The nipples that were hardening beneath the cotton as we watched. The way her jeans fitted snugly to her solid curves.
She wasn’t a petite thing. Hell, no. Our mate was thick and curvy and… fuck me, she was perfect.
“Hello,” she said, her voice deep and husky. It went right to my balls.
Theo tugged off his hat. “Ma’am. Who might you be?”
“Ali Jenkins.”
I pegged her as being early to mid-twenties. By location, name and age, it didn’t take two law enforcement officers to put the evidence together. She was Bob Jenkins’s daughter.
I couldn’t help taking a step closer, reaching out and lifting the end of her braid. I flicked my fingers over the strands, then lifted the tail to my nose.
A gasp escaped her lips at the forward gesture, but I couldn’t help myself. I considered my action to be reserved, considering Theo and I had been waiting for her our entire adult lives.
Theo moved to stand beside me, our arms bumping.
I watched as Ali swallowed, and it was my turn to groan because I was imagining her throat working as she tried to take my dick as deep as she could.
“Who’s at the door?” a voice called from the depths of the house.
The sound startled our mate and she jumped back, her braid being tugged before I released it.
“Police!” she called, taking in my uniform and Theo’s DEA jacket.
Heavy footfall preceded Bob Jenkins.
Not happy, I stepped back, trying to get my head back on task, but it was fucking impossible. I kept glancing at Ali, afraid she might disappear.
“What do you want?” he practically snarled when he came to the doorway. He moved his daughter behind him, but she didn’t go far. Jenkins gave me a quick glance, then ruled me out as worth recognizing on his front porch.
Maybe she, too, felt the attraction between us, the need to stay together.
“Sir, I’m Special Agent Decker with the DEA.”
He responded to Theo with a quick and annoyed, “Yes?”
“Sheriff Cooke was kind enough to bring me here so I could introduce myself,” Theo added.
“Why is a DEA agent making himself known to me in particular?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in the blatant standoffish gesture.
Jenkins wore worn jeans, a white snap shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and sturdy leather boots. Typical uniform for a rancher. While his hair was more gray than dark brown, it had barely receded with age. He was tall and strong. Even though his property was large enough he must have many employees, he clearly didn’t run the place from behind a desk.
“The Cheyenne office has been dealing with a large influx of meth into the southern portion of the state. We’ve been able to question local dealers and track the supply this way. To Granger County.”
Theo specifically left out Wolf Springs, and even Jenkins’s large swath of land where meth could be made without detection, which was what Theo suspected.
Jenkins glanced down at his daughter. “Alison’s a little too old for me to advise her not to do drugs.”
I looked at Ali—Alison Jenkins—and didn’t look away. I listened to Jenkins continue to talk, but I was taking in the warm tan of her skin, the roundness of her cheeks. Her long fingers. The cinch of her belt around her waist. The swell of her full hips. I clenched my fingers with the need to grab hold of her and never let go.