Читать онлайн книгу "Undercover Protector"

Undercover Protector
Elizabeth Goddard


SHATTERED SANCTUARYUndercover at a tiger sanctuary, Special Agent Grayson Wilde’s convinced the owner must be involved in a wildlife trafficking ring—until someone tries to kill her. Now with Gemma Rollins’s life on the line, it’s clear that more than the wildcats need his help. Gemma’s determined to rebuild the tiger oasis she lost when her family died. But someone wants her out of the way, and she’s starting to wonder if her parents' and uncle’s deaths were really accidental. Grayson says he’ll do anything to protect Gemma, but she can't shake the feeling that her alluring new volunteer might not be all that he seems. With a vicious criminal closing in, though, she has to trust Grayson…because she won’t survive without him.







SHATTERED SANCTUARY

Undercover at a tiger sanctuary, Special Agent Grayson Wilde’s convinced the owner must be involved in a wildlife trafficking ring—until someone tries to kill her. Now with Gemma Rollins’s life on the line, it’s clear that more than the wildcats need his help. Gemma’s determined to rebuild the tiger oasis she lost when her family died. But someone wants her out of the way, and she’s starting to wonder if her parents’ and uncle’s deaths were really accidental. Grayson says he’ll do anything to protect Gemma, but she can’t shake the feeling that her alluring new volunteer might not be all that he seems. With a vicious criminal closing in, though, she has to trust Grayson...because she won’t survive without him.


“You trust too much, Gemma.” Grayson stepped closer.

“I think you’re right,” she replied. “I trust people I don’t even know. Like you. I trust you when I shouldn’t. I don’t even know you.”

How could he make her understand he was here to help her? But that wasn’t true, either. What was he thinking? Helping Gemma Rollins had never been part of his mission parameters. He was here to finish this, to find the man who was not only responsible for Bill’s death but who was also the head of a large wildlife trafficking ring.

“Listen, Gemma, I was looking for you to tell you about an idea I came up with.”

Her eyes brightened. “You came up with an idea for me? What—”

A rumble above cut off her question. Rocks shifted overhead, crashed against the cliffside, and echoed across the mountain and through the trees.

“Look out!” Grayson grabbed Gemma, cane and all, and pressed her beneath a protruding part of the rock wall, covering her with his body. Protecting her. Her breaths came hard and fast against his neck as her fear mingled with his own.

God, please protect her. Protect us!


Dear Reader (#u10314a42-35db-5031-bdb3-4598c854435d),

Thank you so much for joining me on this adventure. I hope you enjoyed the story. I set my story in the beautiful region surrounding the Rogue River in southwest Oregon—my old stomping grounds.

As always when researching a story, I learn so much more than I can ever put into the novel. What I learned about wildlife trafficking and how poachers are decimating entire species was disheartening. Whether you’re an animal lover or not, God put Adam in the garden to care for the earth—the plants and animals—and God’s directive for man hasn’t changed.

On a more spiritual note, Gemma has had her share of tragedy and she keeps moving forward in life because she focuses on something bigger than herself. She has a cause and others (the tigers) are counting on her. Still, she struggles in that she doesn’t have the sense that God hears her or answers her prayers. In the end she realizes that God was with her all along, working things out for her good.

We live in a fallen world and bad men do bad things, but we know that God is always there working things out for good on our behalf. Don’t ever forget that. If you struggle with knowing this, ask Him to open the eyes of your heart.

It’s always my hope and prayer that my stories will entertain you and provide a powerful emotional experience, but more importantly that they will bring you closer to the One who holds you.

Once again, thank you for reading Undercover Protector. For something extra, if you’d like to see pictures of the Wild Rogue Wilderness region, you can visit my Pinterest board at www.pinterest.com/bethrachg/wild-rogue-wilderness-series/ (https://www.pinterest.com/bethrachg/wild-rogue-wilderness-series/) and look at tigers at www.pinterest.com/bethrachg/wilderness-inc-book-2/ (https://www.pinterest.com/bethrachg/wilderness-inc-book-2/).

Be sure to visit my website at www.elizabethgoddard.com (http://www.elizabethgoddard.com) to find out about my books and sign up for my newsletter.

Many blessings!

Elizabeth Goddard


ELIZABETH GODDARD is an award-winning author of more than twenty novels, including the romantic mystery The Camera Never Lies—winner of a prestigious Carol Award in 2011. After acquiring her computer science degree, she worked at a software firm before eventually retiring to raise her four children and become a professional writer. In addition to writing, she homeschools her children and serves with her husband in ministry.


Undercover Protector

Elizabeth Goddard






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


A righteous man has regard for the life of his animal,

But even the compassion of the wicked is cruel.

—Proverbs 12:10


For Mom


Acknowledgments (#u10314a42-35db-5031-bdb3-4598c854435d)

Thanks to my many dear writing friends who have encouraged me along this journey. I’m so blessed that God brought us together. I’m grateful that God planted a dream in my heart and then made my dream of telling stories come true. Special thanks to Jeri at Crown Ridge Tiger Sanctuary for answering my questions about these wonderful big cats and what it’s like to care for them in a sanctuary. I’m more than blessed to have an editor who believes in my stories—thank you, Elizabeth Mazer—and an agent who saw something in me years ago—thank you, Steve Laube.


Contents

Cover (#uf6dc055c-6cfa-53ad-abcf-5beeb05c696c)

Back Cover Text (#u5444b71e-3c9f-5b14-a8bb-2f4de88699cb)

Introduction (#u2ecb6456-6c00-5151-b4c8-79268b705239)

Dear Reader (#uc6951e8d-33d4-5225-9da4-7371164da196)

About the Author (#u7179d734-3f50-5170-8304-80e9323e4370)

Title Page (#u8600155a-aba3-5435-971c-33ff175c4d30)

Bible Verse (#ub3693d09-9577-5f0f-8c69-8e6c07891419)

Dedication (#ud24d7422-c545-55cc-a4d0-da55b3249383)

Acknowledgments (#u1b677b35-9ce0-50d9-8243-f29e8cbc645d)

ONE (#u287a77ca-5893-5a25-ae7e-30a559bc0625)

TWO (#ua01c600a-5488-52af-a7b9-ab5f4e5669df)

THREE (#u4e900a0e-d67d-5d1e-9088-f5a01694ba1f)

FOUR (#udf1060e2-3211-5bf4-9e85-865fd5b262f9)

FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#u10314a42-35db-5031-bdb3-4598c854435d)

Siskiyou Mountains, southwest Oregon

Gemma Rollins shifted gears as her beloved Jeep CJ bounced over the narrow gravel road carved from the mountain. With this torrential downpour, she was glad she’d opted for the hard cover and doors on this older model.

But she should have gotten the mud tires too.

This was just like when the Pineapple Express came through southern Oregon a decade ago. Except spring was the wrong time of year for the tropical moisture to be sweeping in from the Hawaiian Islands. The meteorological phenomenon occurred in the winter.

And the tigers in her sanctuary, fifteen beautiful creatures she knew by name, wouldn’t be happy in this inclement weather either.

Gemma downshifted, slowing at the curve on the steep one-lane road, her pulse edging up as the rain pounded harder. This was a lot more like the kind of weather she’d see in Houston, Texas, rather than southwest Oregon. And too much rain might cause flooding in the sanctuary. With a USDA inspection coming up in three weeks, she so did not need more hurdles in her goal of getting Tiger Mountain accredited as a big cat sanctuary.

She pressed her foot against the brakes as she came up on the switchback. Suddenly, the steering refused to turn. What was happening? The sharp bend approached. She would never make it!

Throwing her entire body into turning the steering wheel, Gemma’s effort paid off. The CJ slid around the bend, though still much too close to the edge of the ravine.

Trees and rocks would slow anything trying to take a fall, but that didn’t reassure her. Nearing the next curve, she pumped the brakes. They weren’t working so well either.

She was behind in vehicle maintenance, no doubt there, but her CJ had never let her down before. Another curve in the road approached, and she shifted to the lowest gear, gripped the wheel with both hands and groaned with the effort to make the turn.

She’d driven the road that bordered the fenced-in area of the sanctuary enough times to know what to expect—more switchbacks. The road was dangerous on a good day. She hit the brakes harder. Still the CJ picked up more speed. She turned the steering wheel left, barely making another switchback.

Her beloved CJ was out of control.

Heart hammering, the realization slammed her—this was a matter of survival.

She might actually die. The possibility sucked her breath away.

Mud oozed from the rocky wall to her left as it poured from the hillside above. God, please help me! I don’t want to die today. And please keep the sanctuary intact. Please don’t let those fences give way.

She couldn’t imagine that would happen, but, then again, she hadn’t dreamed her steering would give way on the same day as her brakes. What were the chances? A question rose from the shadows in her mind. Had this been intentional?

And on a treacherous, rainy day.

Images from that night long ago accosted her. Headlights glinting off a wall of water. The grinding crunch. The wreck that left her uncle dead, the Tiger Hills sanctuary her father had founded dismantled and Gemma with nerve damage and a limp.

Focus, Gemma! She gripped the steering wheel tighter, mentally skimming the road ahead. Another bend. She’d never make it with her steering out like this. But if she could make it around the next outcropping of the rocky wall—before the dangerous bend—and remain on the road, there was an incline to her right, a turn out that she could use to slow the CJ to a stop.

Would it be enough?

Come on, come on, come on...

“God, if You’re listening, and You don’t want me to die today, I need some help.” Gemma wrestled the wheel even harder and yanked the emergency brake, getting no return for her efforts.

Up ahead, mud and rocks washed over the road.

A mudslide!

Though it could be dangerous, deadly even, she could use the mudslide to slow the CJ, except she would have another battle for survival. But it was moving slowly enough she might just be able to make it.

Was that the answer to her prayer?

The incline appeared ahead in the thick of the mud. She pumped the brakes again, but they were completely dead. Gemma shifted into a higher gear and sped over the mud before it carried her away.

The roar of the torrential rain and the sight of the mudslide filled her with dread and morbid memories, erasing all other rational thought. Gemma fought the rising terror.

She gripped the wheel and steered toward the incline, shifting down once she’d gained enough momentum because she’d need to stop this vehicle, once and for all, on the other side of the mud.

Regardless of her momentum, the CJ shifted as the mud gripped the tires, but Gemma persevered and evened out the pressure on the accelerator, adjusting her steering until the vehicle lifted up, the front tires gaining traction on the ground that rose above the mud, and sped forward.

But fast, much too fast.

The CJ slammed into a tree. Her body ricocheted against the seat belt. There were no airbags in an old Jeep CJ.

Stunned, Gemma blinked. Sucked in a breath. I’m alive!

Then she groaned.

“I’m alive.” She breathed slowly to calm herself. “I’m...alive.” It could have been much worse.

Gemma squeezed her eyes shut as memories overwhelmed her. Déjà vu. Her uncle had been driving the night he lost control of the vehicle and they hit a tree. He’d died and Gemma had lived. Why had she lived—then and now?

Drawing in a few more calming breaths until she could breathe normally, she shook away the daze. Felt the ache from her skin to her bones. But that was good news. She could feel everything, even the nerve damage pain in her left leg from the wreck that took Uncle Dave’s life.

The CJ jerked to the right. What was going on?

Gemma turned her attention to the environment around her. The rain and the mud had risen even more and caught her rear tires. She had to hurry!

She tried to unbuckle her seat belt. Stuck. She searched for something sharp to cut herself out, but, strapped in the seat, she couldn’t reach the tool kit in the back. Regardless, she tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The front end had crumpled as the CJ twisted against the tree. Since she’d opted for a hard top, she couldn’t cut her way out through the top, even if she could escape the seat belt trapping her inside.

She spied her cell phone—out of reach on the floorboard on the passenger side.

Gemma was going to die today, after all.

* * *

Grayson Wilde had picked the worst day for surveillance of the Tiger Mountain sanctuary. Now he paid the price as he searched for cover on the hillside to wait out the storm. He had an appointment in an hour to interview with Gemma Rollins, Tiger Mountain’s founder, for a part-time volunteer position. A senior special agent for the United States Fish and Wildlife Service, Gray worked undercover to investigate and infiltrate a wildlife trafficking ring.

Shivering in the cold, he pushed deeper into a shallow cave to shield himself from the brunt of the wind and rain while he waited it out. He scraped a hand over his face and wiped away the water. As miserable as it was to be in this place right at this moment, he reminded himself of the importance of his assignment. For starters, his mission in life was to thwart wildlife traffickers and poachers abusing God’s creations. It was crucial, dangerous work, considering illegal exotic pet trade and trafficking had become a multi-billion dollar industry, and came in right under drugs, firearms and human trafficking. And, as a source of funding for terrorist groups, it was a significant threat to both global and national security. But even aside from that, Gray had his own reasons for shadowing this sanctuary.

He’d gotten a tip from an informant that the person responsible for killing game warden Bill Garland—Gray’s friend and mentor—was connected with the project. It was the kind of tip he’d been waiting on for what seemed like a lifetime. Bill had stumbled on a potential trafficking ring years ago, and turned the information over to the feds then ended up dead. With only two hundred fifty USFWS special agents to investigate the entire country, justice was never fully served.

And Gray needed a chance to make things right.

He had started as a game warden but worked his way to becoming a federal agent and he finally had a solid lead on his ongoing investigation. Someone to connect with an extensive trafficking ring, though he didn’t yet have a name.

His new mission was to gain Gemma Rollin’s confidence and work the business with her so he could discover the truth. Find the person responsible for Bill’s death. Arrest him and everyone else involved.

He might have to show up for the interview soaking wet, but that could work in his favor.

Over the deluge he thought he heard a cry for help. Who would possibly venture out in weather like this? Well, other than himself. But unless they were conducting surveillance and working undercover, nobody should be out in the wilderness region that hedged the tiger sanctuary.

Gray quieted his thoughts and listened.

There it was again, only this time it was not a cry for help but an actual scream.

He darted from the cave back into the rain, wishing for goggles—a snorkel and a pair of flippers might even work. “Where are you?”

But he wasn’t sure how he could have heard the scream over the torrent to begin with and doubted they’d heard his response.

Careful of the slick ground, Gray made his way in the direction from which he thought the screams were coming. Then he found the road circling the tiger sanctuary.

That made sense. Someone could have been driving this and he wouldn’t have seen it from his perch. He jogged down the twisted, muddy road, water pouring from the rocky wall to his left. The screams came louder but were muffled.

Gray ran around a curve in the road and saw the mud rushing down the mountain, eating away this portion of the road.

And he saw an old Jeep CJ shoved up into a tree. He searched for thin places in the rush of water and mud and did a dance with the forces of nature as he hopped, skipped, jumped and charged like a bull intent on his target. He caught the bumper, gripped it, holding on against the force of the liquid earth sliding under his feet. He made his way to the driver’s side door.

A frantic woman sat inside, her mouth wide and halfway through the word help when she caught sight of him. She stopped and closed her mouth.

Assessing the situation, Gray didn’t need her to explain the urgency or that she couldn’t get her door open. He doubted climbing out the other side was even an option, since the vehicle hung precariously near the edge on the passenger side. He tried the door, using brute strength, and then kicked at it, but it wouldn’t budge. If he’d brought his weapon, he might have been able to shoot the door mechanism so it would release.

Instead, he grabbed a large rock.

Her troubled eyes grew wide again.

“Unbuckle your seat belt!” he yelled over the roar. “And move out of the way.”

“I can’t!”

“I’m going to smash the window.”

She nodded. Covering her face, she leaned away.

Gray hit the window. Glass shattered, falling everywhere inside the vehicle, including on the woman. She carefully tossed aside the bigger chunks, and Gray helped remove the rest. He pulled out his Buck knife from his jeans pocket, cut her seat belt and then tugged off his jacket, laying it over the window jamb to protect her. Gray planned to pull her out, but she climbed out herself, her agility surprising him until she fell to the ground. Her left leg appeared stiff, her expression one of agony.

“You’re hurt!” He crouched next to her. Of course, she would be hurt after her Jeep had slammed into the tree.

Rain beating down on her, she tried to stand on her own but failed and slipped back, mere inches from the spreading river of mud.

“We have to get out of here before the mud carries us away along with your Jeep.” Gray scooped her into his arms.

She struggled against him and reached for the vehicle. “No, wait! I need—”

“Unless you’ve got a child in there—” and Gray hadn’t seen anyone else in the vehicle “—someone else whose life is in danger, we’re getting out of here.”

“But—!”

Ignoring her, Gray headed away from the ensnared vehicle and the mudslide. He focused all his energy and strength into hiking over slippery boulders while holding a 115-pound woman with an injury. Behind him, he half expected to hear the telltale sound of the old Jeep CJ being carried away down the mountain, but that sound never came.

Carrying her solid but small form, he reached the road she’d been driving on when she’d hit the mud. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying that must have been. She was in her twenties, he’d guess, a few years younger than his thirty-two years. Was she a volunteer who he would work with? He’d have to explain what he’d been doing out here. But first they had to get somewhere safe and dry.

He hadn’t made it twenty yards when the rain slowed.

“You can put me down now.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. “I appreciate the help, but I can manage from here.”

He set her on the still-slick road and put his hand out, ready to catch her if necessary. “Careful now.”

Pushing her wet strands out of the way, she looked up at him, studying his face with her bright hazel eyes. Raindrops slid over her forehead and over her cheeks, revealing a pretty, natural face with a few freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her dark hair hung long down her back and was so waterlogged that he couldn’t tell for sure what color it was, but he was almost certain it was dark brown to match her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

He glanced up at the ashen sky and received droplets in his eyes. He wiped them out and then looked at the woman. “I suppose I should introduce myself. It’s not every day I carry a woman down the mountain.”

“I’m walking down the mountain,” she corrected. “But I’m sure it’s not every day you have to pull a woman trapped in a mud-strapped, tree-slammed Jeep.”

“You got that right.”

“Well, what’s your name, stranger?”

“Grayson Wilson. But you can call me Gray.” Though working undercover, he’d keep his first name. Easy enough to answer to that. Wilde would be off the books.

“I’m Gemma Rollins. I run Tiger Mountain, the sanctuary on the other side of this road. You might have noticed it since you were out wandering the area.” Her tone sounded suspicious.

Gemma Rollins. Tiger Mountain’s founder.

So much for his surveillance efforts. He should have known, though she looked nothing like the pictures, where she always had on sunglasses. Her eyes would have been a dead giveaway.

She shifted her focus to the road and then turned to him. “Well, are you coming? I want to get someplace dry.”

“And then you’ll call the sheriff, right?” The county maintained the mountain road, and she might want the report for her insurance.

Calling the sheriff was the right move for her, so Gray ignored the twinge he felt at the thought. Gray hadn’t wanted to run into the man so soon on this operation, but Sheriff Kruse would likely send a deputy out instead and, in that case, Gray could keep his cover unless it was Deputy Callahan. In theory, it would be safe enough to read in the local cops on his investigation...but in practice, it was a whole different story. Sometimes, even law enforcement could be involved in trafficking.

“Yes. We need to let the county know about the mud and trees on the road.”

She continued to favor her right leg over her left.

Gray asked, “Are you sure you’re not hurt? You’re limping.”

Gemma stopped and turned to look at him, staring at him with her determined and enormous, crystal-clear hazel eyes. Why hadn’t he known about the eyes beforehand?

Like that would have kept them from affecting him now. He didn’t want to stop looking at them.

“I was injured years ago. Nerve damage. My limp is part of me now. If you had let me grab my cane out of the Jeep, I’d be using that to walk.”

Gray was embarrassed. Why hadn’t he noticed a cane in the few pictures he’d seen? “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” He almost offered to assist her in walking, but the set of her jaw told him that would be the wrong thing to do.

“It’s okay. I understand. You were being a hero, and you couldn’t have known you were rescuing a debilitated damsel. Honestly, I didn’t expect anyone to hear my cries for help, much less a stranger to arrive to whisk me out of the Jeep. Thank you for that.” Her soft smile wiped away the furrow in her brow but not the anguish—the deep-seated agony—behind her eyes.

Gray had come here to bring this woman down if she was involved in the trafficking ring—and especially if she was involved, even indirectly, in Bill’s death. It seemed more than likely that she was part of the trafficking ring as founder of the sanctuary that was somehow connected.

How could she not be aware of the trafficking going on right under her nose? But looking at her now, Gray doubted his certainty. He could clearly see there was so much more going on in that head of hers. Finding answers would not be as easy as he’d hoped.

Especially when his natural drive to protect the innocent ignited for Gemma. Because if she wasn’t involved in the ring, then she could be in danger.

All he knew was that he had a feeling Gemma Rollins had just reversed their roles and she was about to make trouble for Gray. Either that or he had just made a world of trouble for himself in coming here.


TWO (#u10314a42-35db-5031-bdb3-4598c854435d)

Gemma kept up the warm and friendly banter while she shared the mountain road with Gray. She appreciated his assistance out of the CJ. She could have died without Gray’s help.

But she kept the conversation superficial. Gray was still a stranger and she didn’t know what he could have been doing on the mountain or on the road during this storm. She had even more reason to be wary given the saboteurs who had caused her too many problems already in the form of vandalism to the property. They hoped to sabotage her efforts to provide a reputable sanctuary for tigers. Could Gray be connected to them? It was certainly possible.

Pain throbbed up her leg, pain that seemed to ignite in full force when she was stressed in any way. And with all the stress in her life lately, that meant a lot of over-the-counter painkillers. She’d managed so far without prescription painkillers and wouldn’t start now, if she could help it.

She must have flinched because she saw him eyeing her with concern. “So what happened back there, anyway?” he asked. “You come around that curve too fast? Or was it the muddy deluge in the road that took you out?”

Gemma scoffed. “Let’s just say it was the perfect storm. My steering went out and the brakes couldn’t handle the slope.” She didn’t want to go on, fearing he might berate her for her lack of vehicle maintenance. She tried to ignore that gnawing in the back of her mind that it was something more threatening.

His demeanor changed—a subtle shift, but it was there.

Gemma shouldn’t have revealed so much. “I know, I know. Vintage doesn’t have to be unsafe.”

He cracked a grin.

Gray might be a stranger on this mountain, but he elicited a smile from her in return. She glanced at him. Covered in mud, he was kind of scruffy-looking, his hair hanging to his shoulders and making him resemble a character in an epic fantasy movie. He’d been there, right when she’d needed him. But...she was itching to ask what he’d been doing on the road.

Gemma wished she wasn’t a conspiracy theorist. Hoped that she was being entirely too suspicions, but she’d been through so much already. And where was this guy’s vehicle? Either something didn’t add up or Gemma didn’t have all the information necessary to fill in the equation. She suspected the first but hoped for the latter.

A vicious cramp shot pain up her leg and Gemma slipped and fell, letting out a yelp.

Humiliation scoured her. If not for her limp, she wouldn’t have gone down. Pebbles and rocks bit into her backside, adding to the mud already there.

Gray whisked her up and into his arms before she could protest. The concern in his face, the compassion in his warm brown eyes, told her she had nothing to fear from him. But she had never trusted her own judgment when it came to men like Gray—handsome men, whom Gemma could be attracted to if she let herself. Fortunately, her single-minded focus on her work meant she hadn’t run into that many men like Gray. Warmth spread through her as she rested in his arms and against his broad chest, or was the warmth from the embarrassment of her fall?

He grinned, though the distant rumble of trouble boiled in his gaze. “It’s okay, Gemma. I’m handy to have around at times like these.”

The guy made her laugh, easing her humiliation. “I see that.”

“And I know my timing is off, but—” he cleared his throat “—it’s about time for my interview. You want to interview me here and now or wait until we get to headquarters?”

Huh?

He must have noticed her bewilderment because he laughed. “I’m interested in your volunteer position.”

Gemma slapped her hand onto her head. “Oh! Oh, this is...well...put me down now.”

Without argument, he set her on her feet. “I’m just trying to show that I can be useful as a volunteer.”

Through the woods, Gemma spotted the main sprawl of buildings. “We’re close. Let’s get inside, dry off and warm up, and we’ll talk about volunteer work over a hot cup of cocoa. Is that all right?”

“Sounds perfect.” He flashed a nice set of teeth.

At least she had a reason to hope that he wasn’t connected with the saboteurs now. It didn’t make sense that someone would volunteer to help her if he really wanted to hurt someone. But the thought caused a shadow in her heart. She didn’t want that to be the case for Gray Wilson. She could ask any hard questions—What he was doing on the road? Where was his vehicle?—once they were inside with the others. But she didn’t want to think he was up to no good. His actions had proven otherwise so far.

Gemma led him through the side door of the main facility they hoped to open up for public education and training in the next few weeks. “This is the resource building. There’s a big fire roaring in the fireplace for days like this. So have a seat. I’ll get you a towel to dry off and a blanket to get warm.”

The faux leather couches could be wiped clean of mud and debris.

She disappeared down a hall toward her office, where she found Cara, her friend and employee, busy working on the computer recording data for the tigers and ordering supplies.

She glanced up at Gemma and gasped. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story. I have a guy out there, Gray Wilson, who says he was coming in for an interview today?”

Cara nodded. “Yeah. I left a message on your voice mail. He called this morning, and you said you needed help and, well, I thought you’d be back in time.”

“I met him on the mountain.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I crashed the CJ into a tree. Gray was there to help me out.”

“Oh, Gemma, are you okay, honey? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“No, I’m good.”

Cara didn’t look convinced. “What about that old Jeep you love? You want me to call the sheriff for you? You’ll need an official report so insurance will cover it.”

“It’s not like the insurance is going to pay.” She only had liability. “But call the county to let them know about the road.”

She dried her hair with one of the towels they kept on hand. Their work at the sanctuary was hands on, dirty work. Grabbing a couple of blankets from a closet, Gemma wrapped one around herself, wishing she had time to run over to her cabin to shower, change clothes and grab a sweatshirt. “Find my other cane for me, if you would, please? I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Cara nodded. “I’ll find it.”

“Well, I’m off to see if we can use him.”

But Gemma already knew the answer. He was definitely sturdy and able. But she was more curious about his background and what brought him to Tiger Mountain than anything.

She made her way to Gray, who stood by the fire, and offered him the blanket. “Wrap this around you. I can offer you coffee or hot chocolate.”

He was indecisive behind his frown. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

“I’m getting some for myself, so it’s no trouble.”

“Then let me do it for you.”

“Mr. Wilson, you’re not a volunteer here yet. You’re my guest. Now, would you like some or not?”

“Hot chocolate’s fine. And...please call me Gray.”

The mundane act of getting hot chocolate let Gemma compose her thoughts and settle her heart after wrecking the CJ and being carried by a stranger. Blanket still hanging on her shoulders, Gemma carried two cups of hot cocoa out to where Gray waited, hoping he would not look at her leg. There wasn’t anything to see, really. Not like it was hideous or mangled. Instead it was stiff and aching.

She tried to smile to cover the pain. He’d settled on the big old orange couch next to the fire and appeared mesmerized by the flames, deep in thought. Good, he hadn’t watched her limping walk.

“Here you go.”

Slowly he turned his head to her, seeming to shake off his daze. “Thanks.”

She handed the mug off. Of course their fingers brushed. But Gemma had already been up close and personal with Gray, so she didn’t understand the current she suddenly felt. She wondered what he might look like when he was all cleaned up. Where had that come from? Ignore, ignore, ignore. “Well, we’re off to an awkward start.”

He quirked a brow and flashed a dimpled half grin. “At least it wasn’t uneventful.”

Gemma’s heart hammered again at the reminder. At least she thought it was the reminder of her crash that elevated her heart rate and not his dimpled grin.

His smile suddenly dropped away. “I shouldn’t have made a joke about it. You could have died. It could have been much worse.”

Shaking her head slightly, she slurped in the warm cocoa. This was definitely what she needed. Get her core temperature back up and her brain working. It might be spring in southwest Oregon, but the rain dropped cold in the mountains.

“It worked out because you were there, at the right place at the right time. You’ve proven that you’re physically strong enough to handle working for us, but tell me about your background—who are you, where do you come from, why do you want to volunteer and what experience do you have with animals, specifically big cats?”

“That’s a lot of questions in one breath.”

Gemma was botching the interview, but it all came rushing out and then she let the one question burning her mind spill.

“And why were you on the mountain today?” It wasn’t like he’d simply shown up for an interview early. He’d been on the sanctuary property up in the mountains. The thought made her bristle.

* * *

Whoa with all the questions at once. But at least he’d anticipated them, even her last one. He had thought of an answer for that one while she’d gone to get the blankets. He hadn’t expected for anyone to see him on the mountain or to rescue Gemma from a Jeep.

Without hesitation, he said, “I parked my truck where the county road meets Highway 101 and then hiked in. I was early for the interview and like to see the lay of the land where I’m going to work.” It was as simple as that. And completely truthful. “Or, um...volunteer. But whether I’m salaried or not, I always take my work seriously.”

“But you were on private property.”

“Actually, I wasn’t. I was still in the Wild Rogue Wilderness when I heard your cries for help. Only then did I cross over onto your property.” Sure, he’d been checking the tigers and facilities from a distance with a set of binoculars—left behind when he’d run after her. Still, by the look on her face, he might have said too much.

She cocked a brow. “Getting the lay of the land, huh?”

Time to switch the topic. “I recently rented a house on the coast from a friend. I wanted a change of scenery from my place in Portland. I have a biology degree and worked in wildlife conservation before. I know that tigers are the most imperiled of the wild cats. Three subspecies are already extinct. There’s only about three thousand left, living in the wild.”

She arched a brow. Impressed? Or maybe he was trying too hard. He needed this volunteer position. But he couldn’t let her see just how much.

“It’s because I believe in what you’re doing that I wanted to volunteer my time while I’m between contracts. It makes me angry when I read about the dwindling endangered species populations and abused animals. You’re doing a good thing here. I believe in your cause.” Okay, now he was repeating himself. His pulse was beginning to roar in his ears. He’d better shut this down or he’d go off again and she would think he was too crazy to keep around.

But he didn’t have to worry as he saw the suspicion drain from her face. And all because he said he believed in her cause.

She limped closer to the fire and, without thinking, he offered a hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Then remembered she’d said her limp was part of her now. She didn’t want his help. “Since you were in an accident today, maybe you should see a doctor.”

Her look silenced him on the matter. “I’ve already told you what happened. The reason for my limp.” She bent over to stoke the fire, her long hair hanging down.

“You didn’t, actually. Just that you had an injury. How did it happen?”

“I was in another car wreck.” She straightened up. A distant look came into her eyes.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Gray almost tossed out a joke about her skills as a driver but thought better of it. As she stood by the fire to warm up, her eyes grew bright, flames dancing in them. He’d never seen anyone more alive than Gemma Rollins. And she truly seemed to be passionate about sheltering the abused wildlife and caring for them. Yet someone at this sanctuary was involved in crimes against the tigers. To use a sanctuary as a cover for trafficking was about as low as a person could go in Gray’s opinion. Was there any chance someone else was behind the trafficking? Who would have the authority or access to do so without Gemma noticing? The simplest answer was the one he didn’t want to believe—that she was involved in the trafficking after all. He could hardly believe the conflicting emotions she stirred in him. But it was time for him to push them aside and get to know the real Gemma Rollins and what she was really up to with the sanctuary.

“Thanks. It happened a long time ago.” With a frown she refocused on him. “What do you do, Gray, when you’re not volunteering? You mentioned you’re between contracts.”

“I’m a computer programming whiz.”

She angled her head, confusion in her eyes.

He chuckled. “I know what you’re thinking. I have a biology degree and I’m a computer whiz? As it turns out, learning to code is an important skill for biologists or any other science field, especially those who spend most of their time crunching data. I had a heads up on that skill. Growing up, I spent too much time playing video games and ended up learning to code early on as a side hobby. Though when I wasn’t playing games, the rest of the time I was outdoors, exploring nature. I love animals, and I want to do something meaningful with my life.” There. He hadn’t even had to lie to keep his cover. He was currently working on installing new accounting software for Wilderness, Inc., a wilderness survival training company run by his brother, Cooper, though he’d had to put that aside temporarily to investigate Tiger Mountain.

Gray was only a silent partner at Wilderness, Inc. anyway. He invested in the business but didn’t want to make decisions or be involved in running the place.

He’d been at the Wilderness, Inc. office in Gideon when he’d received the tip about Tiger Mountain. With this new tip, he believed he was close to solving this case, and he was geographically close as well.

Gemma sat on the sofa and he did the same, across from her. She studied him over the rim of her cup of hot chocolate.

Gray shrugged. “Any more questions?”

“Nope. You have any for me?”

Yep. I have plenty of questions. But he had to be careful and ask the simple questions a volunteer, a wildlife enthusiast, would ask.

“I’m a hands-on kind of guy. I like to learn the ropes as I work. So any questions I have for you can be answered while I’m working. Oh, well, I guess there is one question. You going to let me volunteer or not?”

She gave him her soft and simple smile, the same one he’d seen on the road. It kindled a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time and he didn’t want to feel that again. He’d have to be careful around Gemma.

“You’re hired,” she said.

A woman appeared from the hallway and came over to them. Gemma introduced Cara as a Tiger Mountain employee. She handed a cane to Gemma. “Found it.”

Gemma’s faced colored. She’d said that her limp was part of her, but she didn’t appear that comfortable with it. “Maybe I can get my other one from the CJ, if it’s even salvageable.”

Gray glanced out the window, noting the rain had finally and completely stopped. How long that would last, he didn’t know. “Mind if I start work today? You can give me a tour of the place and show me what you need me for later, but right now maybe I can get your Jeep down the mountain.”

Her eyes went even brighter. “Are you serious?”

“Sure, if you have a truck with a winch around here. Or, if not, we can call a wrecker, but I’ll take care of it. You can get back to doing what’s important.” Gray found that, despite his true reason for being at Tiger Mountain, he honestly wanted to be useful to Gemma. But he reminded himself he wasn’t here for her. He was working undercover to expose illegal activities at Tiger Mountain.

Gemma gave him the go-ahead and introduced him to Tom, a full-time staffer who had a four-wheel drive with a winch, which came in handy at a big cat sanctuary. Gray rode with Tom so he could show him where the vehicle had ended up.

Tom slowed the truck when they came to the mud slick in the road. A chunk of mountain seemed to have slid across the way. Tom sighed. “Gemma is not going to like this. Not one bit. She’s already had a tough time here. I tell you, if it’s not one thing, it’s another.”

Gray wanted to ask Tom more about what troubles Gemma had, but they were here. “This is where her CJ went into the tree. If you look to your left and up a bit, you’ll see it just over the rise.”

“I can see the bumper from here and hopefully the rest is still attached.”

“Only one way to find out.” When Gray stepped onto the road, his thoughts reverted to saving Gemma, holding her against him and hiking over the rocks and road.

He remembered her mentioning the perfect storm, her brakes quitting during the drive while the power steering had gone out as well. She would have shifted to the lowest gear, no doubt, and possibly tried the parking brake, but going down a steep mountain road would have worked against her. Even if it hadn’t been raining and even without a mudslide, that could have been deadly. The Jeep CJ rested right where he’d left it, only it was steeped in thick, clotting mud. The vehicle was decades old and the brake hose was likely just as ancient and could have given out. But the steering, too, on the same day?

In such situations, he often referred to Occam’s Razor, a principle of philosophy—the simplest explanation was the right one—and in this case, the chance that both the brakes and the steering went out at the same time on their own was unlikely. In which case he wanted to get a closer look. Had the vehicle been sabotaged?

Tigers were worth more dead than alive, their parts bringing money in excess of a hundred grand, thanks to the demand for traditional Asian medicine. All it took was finding a buyer on the black market and someone needing money could easily make it in spades.

Gemma Rollins might be standing in the way of that. If Gray discovered her life was in danger, he would not only work undercover, but serve as her protector.


THREE (#u10314a42-35db-5031-bdb3-4598c854435d)

Gemma exited the shower, glad to finally be free of the grime and mud. But she wished she could shake the disquiet the crash had left her with. The sun had finally set and she’d hurried home—a cabin across from the main facilities—to clean up. Tom had texted that he and Gray had been able to get her CJ to Carl’s body shop.

With the Jeep taken care of for now, she had the freedom to focus her energies elsewhere—such as on her wish list, which was more like a needs list for the sanctuary. Two-way radios for everyone went on the top of the list. If Gray hadn’t showed up, radios would have come in handy. They didn’t require a cell signal and would provide essential communication with the habitats so spread out. She wrote that down.

She had so many hopes and dreams for making Tiger Mountain great to build a legacy and fulfill the dreams her parents had for a big cat sanctuary. Dreams that had been dashed when they’d died in a plane crash, and ultimately, with her uncle’s death after that.

And this time, Gemma would not allow rumors of abuse to spoil their reputation. Her parents had not exploited the animals and endangered their sanctuary status by putting the cats on display or allowing pictures to be taken with the animals. Or people to pet the cubs because they had no cubs. They were not breeding the animals! Nor had they abused the animals by underfeeding them.

Still those rumors had destroyed their donor base and her parents were returning from a trip to meet with an investor who could revive their private foundation that supported Tiger Hills when their plane had crashed.

She’d never understood why someone had started the rumors.

Or who.

But after their death, her uncle had worked tirelessly to hold things together under great pressure. After the car accident in which he died, and with Gemma in the hospital undergoing multiple surgeries, there had been no one left to manage Tiger Hills or answer the untrue rumors of abuse that continued. The rumors meant donors fell away and without funding to keep the animals fed, the rumors would become true.

There had been no funding left to even pay for staff, and she didn’t want the possibility that a full-scale investigation would further humiliate her family so she didn’t stand in the way when the powers-that-be removed the animals and transferred them to other sanctuaries while she remained in the hospital.

Gemma spent several debilitated months going through two surgeries for her leg. She’d been devastated, broken both physically and emotionally over her losses. But once she was free to think about her future, she went to Oregon State University, got her conservation biology degree and masters in nonprofit management with the help of a financial grant and student loans, and planned for the day when she could start all over. Building something new and untainted as a way of restoring all that was lost to her family.

Her father had started Tiger Hill one tiger at a time when she was only five. Ten years later, he’d died in a plane crash. At twenty-eight, building a new sanctuary was the only way Gemma could think to get back the only life she’d ever known.

The process of creating a nonprofit foundation to support the new sanctuary, all the paperwork and certifications, building new enclosures and creating protocols, hiring staff and finding volunteers had taken several years. Once they’d met the licensing requirements, they starting acquiring the animals. Now with all their animals in place, they were ready for the USDA inspection—she was that close to realizing her dream.

She had seven people to help, including Gray. With fifteen tigers to care for, she wanted three more people to even out the workload. With a high turnover rate lately, was that even possible?

Clyde, her father and uncle’s longtime friend, seemed to think so. She’d understood him to be a silent partner in the old sanctuary, but he’d been out of the country involved with his conservation organization during the time of their deaths. She hadn’t seen him since she was very young, but he’d come to her rescue and invested a lot of money into her project of opening a new sanctuary. He was all she had left now—well, that and Tiger Mountain.

From her cabin across from the Tiger Mountain facilities, Gemma could hear one of the tigers roar. Their roars could be heard up to two miles away. She didn’t understand why Emil Atkins, the rancher whose property ran next to the sanctuary, found the tiger sounds disconcerting. Maybe it was more that his horses and cattle were disturbed, spurring him to lobby against the sanctuary, stirring up the other rural neighbors and ranchers.

Personally, Gemma found the sounds useful, since they let her know when something was upsetting one of the tigers. Maybe someone tampered with the cages, disturbing her tigers.

Or maybe it was more vandalism.

Irritation prickled the back of her neck.

Maybe it was Emil. Gemma needed to check. Grabbing a jacket, she paused to stare out the window into the pitch black of night. She couldn’t see a thing. The sense that someone watched her crawled over her. Reaching for the drapes to pull them shut, she paused when lightning flashed in the distance and thunder followed, rumbling through Gemma’s core.

Before she could close the drapes, someone knocked on the door, startling her.

She calmed her pounding heart and rushed to the door. A quick glance through the peephole into the darkness revealed nothing. Gemma flipped on the porch light.

Gray Wilson.

She frowned. What did he want?

Gemma opened the door. He’d cleaned himself up and wore jeans and a light black jacket over a blue polo shirt. His shaggy hair was neat and combed. She held back her smile. A gust of wind blew in and carried the scent of soap. He smelled nice too. “Gray, what brings you here?”

His expression grew somber. “Mind if I come in for a minute?”

“Actually, I was on my way out to check on the tigers. Heard one of them roaring.”

“Another storm’s approaching. Can’t it wait?”

“What? Afraid of getting wet again?” She teased him, but the concern in his eyes increased her sense of uneasiness.

“We need to talk.” He grabbed her arm and guided her inside. Oddly enough, his action didn’t scare or offend her but confirmed the seriousness of the situation.

Suddenly, the room seemed too dark.

Gemma flicked on a lamp. “What is it, Gray?”

“While the Jeep was propped up on the wrecker, I took a look underneath. You mentioned the brakes and the steering went out at the same time. That’s unusual enough that I wanted to tinker. Look a little harder.”

Goosebumps rose on her arms. “And?”

“I think someone tampered with your brakes.”

Gemma stiffened. She’d been on suspicion overload and hadn’t wanted to think about that possibility. But she held on to the hope that he was wrong. “What makes you the expert? If the mechanic didn’t see it?”

“I helped my dad restore an old hot rod and a few other vehicles. I know my way around cars.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you would find it and the mechanic wouldn’t.” She wanted to remain in denial. Find a reason he could be mistaken.

“Carl’s a nice guy, but he gave it a passing glance. I didn’t, that’s all. Nor did I point it out to him.”

Interesting. “Because...?”

“Because someone worked hard to make this look like an accident. And they might lash out or get desperate if word spreads that you know it wasn’t. But I think you should call the sheriff about this—discreetly. Someone tampered with your brakes. Knew that they would be completely out by the time you were swerving around the dangerous bends in the mountain road. I would have called him myself, but I left that up to you. It’s your business.”

“And the steering? Anybody tamper with that? With no brakes and no real way to steer, I should have gone right over the edge.” Then she allowed the truth she’d wanted to ignore to sink in. Gemma was sitting on the sofa before she even realized it. Somebody tried to kill me?

“No.” Gray huffed a laugh. “The steering was just shot. That was just unfortunate.” Gray frowned.

A chill crawled up her spine and around her throat. Gemma pressed her hand to her neck. When Gray took a step toward her, she instinctively stood from the couch and stepped around it, putting the furniture between her and Gray Wilson. It had been sheer chance that her steering had failed—and then sheer chance that she’d survived. That she’d been able to keep the Jeep from going over the road. That she’d screamed for help and someone had come. Chance...or was it? He had appeared out of nowhere today.

She studied him even as he watched her. Had he been the one to tamper with her brakes? He would have had to follow her up the mountain. Done his work while she’d left the Jeep alone. He’d definitely had the opportunity. But what about motive? Why do that only to save her?

“You were conveniently on the mountain today.” What was she doing? She shouldn’t accuse him right here and now, but she had to know. And in her heart of hearts, she didn’t believe he would do such a thing. But if not Gray, then who?

“What? You think...” Gray threw up his hands. “You think I did that? I don’t even know you. And if I wanted you to crash, why would I try to save you or tell you someone tampered with the vehicle and that you should call the sheriff to start an investigation?”

“Why indeed.” To gain her confidence? Gemma scraped her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry. I know it sounds absurd, but I had to bring it up. You know the sheriff will.”

Gray tensed. “Yeah, he’ll ask if you bring it up.”

“I won’t have to. He’ll want to know about anyone new who is working on the sanctuary.” Gemma looked again out the window.

“Just anyone new? Why’s that?”

“He’s already looked into anyone who has been here longer than two months. Checking on the neighbors too.”

“Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I didn’t want to scare you off so soon. There have been a few happenings.”

“Happenings?”

“Up to now, it’s just been vandalism and a little petty theft.” She hadn’t wanted to get into this with Gray before he even had a chance to meet the tigers and fall in love with them. “There are a few people around who don’t want the sanctuary to succeed. So, once in a while, we have trouble. Vandalism that amounts to sabotage.” Please don’t ask me more...

“But do you think they would go so far as to try to kill you?”

“No. I can’t believe that. Or, at least, I couldn’t until just now. I don’t...I don’t know anymore. And I don’t know why you would care so much.”

Gray closed the drapes for her. “I’m just a volunteer who happened to show up on the day someone tried to kill you, Gemma. I want to help you—keep you from getting hurt. And that’s why I’m telling you that you need to call the sheriff. And be on your guard. Keep your blinds and curtains drawn. And keep your head about you. Be careful around strangers.”

Gray Wilson was a stranger to her, so it seemed odd he would say that, though it was good advice. He arched a brow.

“And be even more vigilant around people you know.”

* * *

Gray watched Gemma’s reaction to his warning.

Wariness lurked behind her gaze. Lightning flashed again and thunder sounded as though it was on top of them.

“I didn’t mean to scare you by telling you about the brakes. But you needed to know.”

“I’m not sure whether to thank you or not.” She gave a nervous laugh and then released a long sigh.

Through a cracked window, he heard the tiger roar. Gemma glanced over, apparently still worried about the big cats—maybe even more than she worried about herself. That could be dangerous, but he admired her dedication.

“Why don’t you wait to go out there until the worst of the storm passes? I’ll go see the tigers with you. After all, that’s what I volunteered for.” He grinned, hoping to lighten the mood.

She smiled in return, appearing to relax. The only trouble was Gray didn’t want her to relax too much. She needed to take the brake tampering seriously. Gray hoped the sheriff encouraged her in that. He’d met Sheriff Kruse but didn’t know him as well as Cooper did. He hoped that the sheriff was a man who could be trusted. Gray didn’t think anyone in local law enforcement was involved, but there was no way to know for sure—that was why it was so important that his cover remain intact, so he’d have to be conveniently absent when the sheriff showed up. And while working undercover, he could do a little investigating into the saboteurs she’d mentioned and anyone else who might want the sanctuary to fail. More importantly, he needed to learn why someone would want Gemma dead.

Were the vandalism and the attempt on her life connected? The two acts seemed different enough that they could be from two different people. Gray had a friend—a forensic investigator—who might be able to offer advice on the profiles of who might be behind these two very different crimes.

But first, he’d need to ask her what sort of things the saboteurs had done. Why the sheriff hadn’t stopped them. But then he’d come across as an investigator. Besides, the way she shivered and hugged herself, he wanted to dial down the fear and tension. He needed to gain her confidence before he moved too fast.

He had taken a step out of his role as a nobody volunteer in coming to her cabin. In making the disclosure about her brakes. Maybe it would have suited his purposes better to keep the information to himself to see what developed, but he had a moral and ethical obligation to let her know what kind of danger she was potentially in.

“We can head over to the resource building while we wait. Get the keys for one of the utility vehicles. It’s quicker to get in and out,” she said.

“I guess now would be a good time for you to give me that tour I never got today.”

“Maybe. Except it’s dark out. You can’t see everything. But, yeah, I can show you some things.”

Gray followed Gemma, who was ably walking with her cane, noting she hadn’t locked her door. “Aren’t you going to lock up?”

She paused, turned to face him. “What? No... I—”

“You don’t usually lock up?”

She shook her head. “Never had a reason to.”

“Until now. You are taking me seriously, aren’t you?”

Frowning, she headed into the house and returned with keys and locked the door. “There. Satisfied?”

“Yes.”

She headed toward the main building. Gray caught up to her in two long strides. “I know it’s kind of awkward and all. First I pull you from the wreckage and carry you across a mudslide to safety only to learn that you’re the woman I’m supposed to interview with. And now I show up at your cabin and tell you someone tampered with your brakes. Believe me, it’s weird for me too.”

“I’ll admit it’s a lot to happen in one day.” Gemma paused beneath the security light on the porch of the main office and tried the door. It didn’t open, and she jingled the keys. “Good thing I went back for them. Someone locked up.”

“I hope that’s the usual practice.”

“It is—I’d just lost track of the time, or I would have remembered to grab the keys in the first place. Wouldn’t do to have computers or paperwork stolen.”

“Especially with the saboteurs running around.”

“Exactly.”

“But you’re not worried about your cabin.”

“No, I wasn’t. Not until you showed up tonight. I didn’t think they would go that far. I don’t keep anything of real value in the cabin.”

Once inside, Gemma grabbed a set of keys out of a key box and then led him out the side door to a commercial carport, where two utility vehicles—old Gators—were parked along with some other equipment. Gemma had a thing for old equipment, it seemed. Either that or limited funding.

“You could use a fence around this to make sure nobody steals this equipment.”

“It’s on my wish list. I’m making a list to give to the man who helped me establish the private foundation and funded most of it to get Tiger Mountain up and running—Clyde Morris. He’s been out of town. Out of the country, rather, but he’ll be here tomorrow and I need to be ready with the list. At some point, I won’t have to depend on him so much. We’re working on building our donor base but it takes time.”

His pulse hiked up.

Clyde Morris.

Gray was definitely listening. Could this be the guy he was after? A single primary funder was unusual for an expensive operation like this one. The man had to have some reason for investing so heavily in the tiger sanctuary. Was it so he could use the animals for his smuggling? Gray knew better than to jump to conclusions—but it was still a lead worth following. “Why don’t you tell me what’s happened? You keep mentioning someone is trying to sabotage the sanctuary.”

Ignoring him, Gemma grabbed a couple of flashlights and climbed into the utility vehicle. “You coming or what?”

“I thought we were going to wait for the storm.”

“I think it’s a lot of noise and threats. It might not even rain, and I don’t have all night. I need to check on that tiger.”

After Gray got in, he held on when she took off. She might struggle to walk and need a cane, but she had no trouble driving or shifting gears. That made him smile. “Well, tell me more about the issues. As a volunteer, I should know. You’re not really afraid you’re going to scare me off, are you?”

Waiting for her answer, he studied her profile. At least a few security lights had been installed at strategic points.

She glanced over at him. “You got me.”

“Really? I was only joking.”

“I’ve already lost an intern and two volunteers over this stuff.”

Wow. “Look, Gemma. I’m a big boy. I can handle anything you have to say. Anything you think is going to happen. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say maybe I’m supposed to be here to protect you. Keep you safe.”

The Gator slammed to a stop, almost sending Gray flying. He jerked his head to Gemma. Had she done that on purpose? Gemma hopped from the vehicle, holding a flashlight. He followed her down the paved trail and she let them in through a gated fence—the first enclosure to surround the sanctuary, nesting two more fenced areas, he noticed. She unlocked and opened the gate to yet another fenced area.

“We have twenty main habitats the animals have access to. Each habitat has a lot of space with trees and grass, rocks and a pool. All the habitats connect to indoor buildings with stalls—four habitats to each of the indoor buildings. We call the indoor buildings Habitats A, B, C, D and E. Five buildings total. We have fifteen cats right now, but eventually, I hope to add more.”

She led him down the path that wove through well-kept grounds with large secured areas. He saw now why her vehicles were old. She put all her money into the habitats and care of the animals. “During the day, the tigers are locked outside in their habitats while we clean the holding areas. I need your help with all of it. The cleaning, the feeding. We have an older cat, Caesar, who requires special care and takes extra time. I know it doesn’t seem like much, but with so many cats and so few people it can be exhausting. And dealing with the daily maintenance has put me behind on administrative tasks. I have to work on proposals and grants and educating the public and most importantly getting ready for the upcoming USDA inspection. We have to always be prepared for surprise inspections, as well, but it’s all I can do to take care of the big cats.”

She looked at him, waiting for his reaction, he supposed. He shrugged. “I’m good with anything you throw at me. Lead on.”

Gemma walked in front of him, and he couldn’t help but notice that, with her cane, she had a gentle, rolling gait, almost like a tiger.

“At night, they have full access to their habitats, both inside and out.”

Gray stopped to watch as a tiger he could barely see in the dark disappeared inside. “Do all the habitats have these multilevel platforms and pools?”

“Yep. We don’t want the cats getting bored. We also rotate them so they are able to explore new habitats every few days. Wouldn’t want them to get bored or start pacing like you see in zoos.”

“You’re encouraging them toward naturalistic behaviors.”

She smiled. “You sound like a press kit. How are you at public speaking?”

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.


FOUR (#u10314a42-35db-5031-bdb3-4598c854435d)

“Is this the sort of thing that has your staff and volunteers leaving?”

“Yes and no. The attacks aren’t always so...creative.” This had her skin crawling, even though it wasn’t the first of its kind. She used the clicker she kept in her pocket, signaling Kayla to go inside and remain there. Though the sanctuary’s purpose was to offer a natural environment, some training was required for the tigers to live in captivity.

She took the flashlight from him and shined it around. “Looks like Kayla has gone inside. Now would be a good time to shut her in so we can get the doll out for evidence.”

“Wait. Shouldn’t we leave it like it is so the sheriff can see it?” Gray asked.

“You mean cordon it off as a crime scene and all that?” Gemma laughed. “That’s exactly what they want so they can mess with my tigers. And by they I mean the neighboring ranchers. I’d have to shuffle the tigers around, disrupt the routine and I’d be short a habitat until Sheriff Kruse and his deputies could get to it. I’m almost of a mind not to call it in at all. Let them try to scare me. I’m not so easily scared.”

A noise startled her. Gemma gasped. Right. She’s not so easily scared. Sounded like a large object, maybe a garbage can, being knocked over. “Do you think whoever left this is still here?”

She started off toward the noise, but Gray grabbed her arm. “No. It’s too dangerous. I would suggest waiting in the vehicle, but the Gator isn’t going to provide any protection.” He looked as if he wanted to run toward the sound himself but was visibly hesitating. “No way am I leaving you here alone.”

While she was glad he didn’t plan on leaving her, she hadn’t exactly asked for his protection.

He hurried in the direction of the sound, leaving Gemma to keep up with him the best she could with a cane. Who was this guy anyway? Taking over like he owned the place. Gemma should be indignant, but Gray’s actions kind of warmed her heart. Still, it didn’t wash away her fury at the vandalism. Didn’t these people realize the animals had already been abused in one way or another? They didn’t need to be tormented anymore. Gemma followed Gray around a corner, watching as he flashed the beam of light with his own flashlight, searching the shadows while she hoped for a signal to call the sheriff’s office on her cell. Finally, she got one and stood in place to keep it. She wondered what it meant that the number was saved on her phone.

She left a message with Laura, the dispatcher, about a new incident. Seeing an effigy of herself had only happened once before. Usually the trouble involved more mundane things like dismantling half the fence for a tiger’s habitat or spray-painting vulgar words on the buildings. All of it was meant to wear her down. Didn’t these people realize the extent of her commitment?

They found an overturned garbage can near a small utility building. Gray put his hand up. “Don’t take another step.” He flashed the light around the ground. “Maybe someone was here and left some tracks. The sheriff can use that.”

“Whatever you say.” She waited a beat. “See any yet?”

“It’s too dark out. With all the rain of late and mud, though, we’re bound to find a few.”

“Right, but you’re going to see tracks belonging to volunteers and staff as well.”

“Has anyone been out here since the rain stopped this afternoon?”

“Of course. Tigers still need to be cared for. Things don’t stop because it rains.” She thought back to this afternoon. Well, maybe things do stop a little when you have an accident. That had thrown off her afternoon—and Tom’s too, when he went to haul the Jeep into town. “Look, Gray, I appreciate you trying to turn all detective and everything, but I think finding a distinctive shoe print in this mud is a lost cause. Besides, Sheriff Kruse is already investigating. He could have his own list of suspects, but I think it’s the rancher neighbors. None of them are happy that we’re here. The most vocal has been Emil Atkins. He hasn’t been shy about letting me know what he thinks about the sanctuary. He doesn’t like it so close to his ranch. He’s threatened me a few times, but they were idle threats. So now he’s escalated to foolhardy attempts to scare me off.”

The way Gray looked at her told Gemma he was thinking about her brakes.

“Once Sheriff Kruse hears about this, he’ll send one of his deputies out here to get the doll for evidence. Then one of them will visit the ranchers and ask questions and throw a few warnings out. It’s a game we’ve been playing for a long time.”

She waited and watched his reaction with only the dim light of the distant security lamp illuminating his face. But his frown was easy to see. He looked up at the sky as though expecting to watch the stars but instead found disappointing darkness in the clouds that hadn’t yet dumped their burden. How strange. Even stranger, Gemma could totally relate to that.

Finally, Gray dropped his gaze to her. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, Gemma. I know we’ve only just met, and you don’t know me, but I’m here to help if I can.”

And Gemma believed him. That was the problem—she usually believed people, whether she should or not. Gemma had been such a poor judge of character, and she shouldn’t rely on that inner sense that told her Gray was trustworthy.

“Let’s go and get the effigy out of the habitat and then head back to the Gator so we can leave here.” This made her sick, absolutely sick.

Once they were in the Gator and Kayla’s habitat was effigy-free so the big cat could roam at will, Gray glanced at Gemma. “I’d really like to hear about the other incidents.”

“I know, Gray, but I really don’t want to talk about them right now, if that’s all right. Besides, I didn’t hire you to investigate or even protect me. I hired you to shovel manure, clean out habitats while the cats are outside and maybe, if you’re a good speaker, help me educate the public and convince the neighbors that we are no danger to them.”

Her tone was hard, she knew that, but he seemed to take it in stride, understanding her mood. She was somewhat surprised at his determination to stay after everything he’d seen. And yet, Gray Wilson was still here, eager to help.

But Gemma had a big question burning in her mind. A question she wasn’t willing to voice and barely willing to think about. After losing her parents and her uncle, was Gemma willing to stay—to build Tiger Mountain and keep it thriving—in the face of warnings and threats on her life? Her greatest fear was that she wasn’t strong enough to see it through, to build a new sanctuary to match or even surpass what her father had built years ago. But if she was strong enough to stay, she hoped to restore her family’s reputation destroyed by vicious rumors.

Who had started them?

Gemma steered the Gator into the covered garage and parked, hating how her mood had soured.

“I’ll walk you to your cabin.”

“No need, really,” she protested weakly. Gemma was too tired to fight him, if he persisted.

“Well, my truck is parked that way anyway.” He grinned.

Gemma could easily grow to like that grin. But she didn’t like it yet. No. Not yet.

He strolled next to her. “Listen, the big cats are important to you. I get that. But who’s going to take care of the tigers if you don’t care of yourself?”

At her porch, she turned to him. “What are you trying to say?”

“When the sheriff or a deputy comes tomorrow to get the effigy and dismiss it as just another childish prank, tell them about your brakes. Promise me?”

“I don’t have to promise you, Gray.” Why was he making this so personal? “But I’ll tell him. I appreciate you thinking of the tigers.”

And of me...

She nodded her goodbye and went inside her cabin. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it.

“Who’s going to take care of the tigers if you don’t take care of yourself, indeed?” She mumbled the question.

Why would someone try to kill her? It made no sense.

Her parents’ tragic deaths had been followed by her uncle’s just three short years later. Ten years later, Gemma was still haunted by the accident that killed Uncle Dave. Had his death been cold-blooded murder engineered to look like an accident?

* * *

At his temporary living quarters—the rental house on the beach—Gray tossed his keys on the table.

The accommodations were sparsely furnished but served his purpose. At least it wasn’t too close to Gideon, Oregon, where his siblings, Cooper and Alice, worked at Wilderness, Inc., providing excursions and survival training. If he was any closer, he feared he would run into someone who could give his true identity away. He had to keep his distance from Sheriff Kruse, as it was.

Still, he hadn’t worked in southwest Oregon when he’d been a game warden, so he shouldn’t run into too many people he knew, other than the sheriff’s department. When he’d been offered the job with the federal government as a special agent with the USFWS, then he’d worked out of the Portland, Oregon, regional office and traveled throughout Pacific Northwest.

Now, Gray was a senior special agent hoping for a management position as a Resident Agent in Charge. That could mean a move to another regional office or even to headquarters in Falls Church, Virginia. The selection process was competitive and if Gray was promoted...well, maybe then Dad would be proud of him.

His stomach soured at the thought of his father. He thought he’d extricated that need for approval from his life. Gray had always believed he was the black sheep of the family until Jeremy committed suicide. Nothing compared to that. Still, Cooper was the son their dad was proud of. Not Gray.

He sighed and grabbed a soda from the fridge, noticing his cell buzzed.

Ten minutes later he finished a call with his superior, Mark Jenkins. Gray filled him in on the new developments. He hadn’t come into this expecting to discover that someone was trying to kill Gemma.

Why had the mechanic been so quick to overlook the sabotaged brakes? Was he involved somehow? What about the sheriff’s department? Why weren’t they taking the earlier threats against Gemma seriously?

From what Gray knew of Sheriff Kruse, he believed the sheriff was a good man. But he had too much square acreage to cover with a few deputies and even less funding. So Gray could give him some grace, but he didn’t like what sounded like a well-developed routine of letting Gemma’s neighbors get away with harassment with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and the hope that it would stop on its own.

Fury boiled up in Gray’s gut. He crushed the soda can in his hand. When the time was right, Gray would talk to the sheriff but not yet. Not until he had the information he needed. Gemma didn’t know just how fortuitous Gray’s arrival was.

Will you listen to yourself?

He hadn’t come here to help her. He’d come to Tiger Mountain as a way to slip into the trafficking organization and work with them while garnering the information he’d required for arrests. He should be looking into the man Gemma had mentioned today—the investor, Clyde Morris, in addition to the other staff and volunteers.

After grabbing another can of soda, Gray sat at his laptop to work. It was going to be a long night. First, he sent off an email to Kit Howard, the forensic investigator, and detailed what he’d learned so far. He wanted to hear what Kit made of it. Could the vandalism Gemma equated to sabotage—that the sheriff’s department didn’t take seriously—be related to attempted murder via tampered brakes?

Then he started in on his research on Clyde Morris who headed up an organization called Conservation International. However, the sanctuary had been funded through another company, Investments Conglomerate. What a vague name. A shell company owned by Clyde Morris, perhaps? That’s why Gray hadn’t known about him. And that would make it easy to launder and traffic any kind of contraband. Wildlife trafficking and anonymous companies went hand in hand.

Mark was using his channels to pull additional information on Clyde and send it to Gray. He had his work cut out for him tonight. The man himself would show up tomorrow, and Gray needed to know everything he could. He wanted to either draw attention to himself in the right way or stay invisible and observe.

He started with the Tiger Mountain website. Immediately images of Gemma’s tigers popped up. A few pictures of Gemma were in the photo gallery but always with the sunglasses, and that got Gray thinking about her eyes.

Those gorgeous eyes...

She was an amazing woman. But he wouldn’t let that distract him. He had to keep his head clear to get justice for Bill. And if closing this case put him in a good position for the promotion that might finally earn his father’s approval, then that would just be the proverbial buttercream icing on the red velvet cake.

* * *

The next day Gray found himself partnering with Wes—the intern working at the sanctuary for college credit this semester—to learn about the daily rigors of cleaning the habitats and feeding the tigers, just like Gemma had told him he would last night. She’d said it as though he might be surprised or unwilling to do the mundane and lowly work of shoveling muck, but he’d done enough volunteer work around animals to know the drill. He hadn’t seen her today, but that was probably for the best. He had to stay focused.

He should get to know all the volunteers and staff. Cara and Tom were full-time. Jill, Mavis and Ernie were volunteers like Gray and worked varied shifts. Gemma detailed the daily schedules and chores on a whiteboard in the kitchen slash conference room of the resource building where everyone gathered for their morning meetings, supplies throughout the day, and for weekly and monthly meetings. Every single thing they did for the tigers was written in task-specific binders. Meticulous, grueling work, as far as Gray could tell. But everyone he’d met seemed committed to the cause and loved the tigers. He could almost doubt the tip he’d received.

Then there was Clyde, whom Gray had yet to meet but according to Gemma would arrive today. Someone from the sheriff’s office was also coming this morning to investigate the effigy doll and the tampered brakes. At least, he hoped Gemma would tell them about the brakes. He’d call in the information himself, but he didn’t want to risk being recognized by Sheriff Kruse. But with his head down as he walked the habitat, tidying and picking up old bones, he was sure no one would notice him. This was perfect. He could watch the others like one of the cats stalking its prey. Gray’s prey was suspicious activity.

Wes snuck up behind him in the grass. “I finished with Caesar’s habitat. Once you’re done here, we can finish the other two and then let the cats back out and clean their stalls. Then feed them. After this, we move on to the next habitat building. Need help here or you want to finish this one on your own?”




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/elizabeth-goddard/undercover-protector/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.



Если текст книги отсутствует, перейдите по ссылке

Возможные причины отсутствия книги:
1. Книга снята с продаж по просьбе правообладателя
2. Книга ещё не поступила в продажу и пока недоступна для чтения