Lone Wolfe Protector (2 page)

Maggie made her way across the room, doing her best to ignore the stares that followed.

She sat and scooted the chair up to the table, where a dog-eared paper menu lay open as if waiting for her to arrive.

“Hi there.”

Looking up, Maggie realized she’d been wrong. The waitress wasn’t pretty. She was absolutely stunning. Her uniform screamed early eighties with its pink collar and matching apron. Ample breasts pushed at the fabric, the buttons looking strained from the considerable duty of holding them in. She wore several gold chains, heavy dangly earrings, and a generous amount of makeup. Her short, strawberry-blond hair was teased and sprayed, and looked more like a wig than anything else.

“I’ll be your server this morning, hon. My name’s Candi. Can I get you started with some coffee?”

“Please.”

“Coming right up.”

She walked behind the counter, hips swinging like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. Maggie had always been slender, boyish, and she crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously.

When Candi came back, she set the coffee down, leaned against the table, and eyed Maggie through blue-tinted mascara. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Just passing through?”

Maggie took a sip and burned her tongue. Swearing inwardly, she set the coffee back down and wondered how much she should reveal about her stay in Wolfe Creek right off the bat. This was a small town. People would talk when they found out who she was and why she was here. But they’d find out soon enough, anyway.

“Nope. I’ll be here a while.”

“Where are you staying?”

Maggie looked up and saw Candi’s cheerful smile. Probably just curious, like most people in a town this size would be. If Maggie wanted answers, she was going to have to talk. Ask questions. Gain some trust. Maybe Candi would be a good place to start. “The Wolfe Creek Inn.”

“Ah,” she said. “Where are you from?”

Suddenly cold, Maggie wrapped her hands around the steaming cup of coffee. “Seattle, originally. My family moved to Portland when I was two.”

“Have you ever been to our neck of the woods before?”

Maggie’s throat constricted like it always did when she thought of her one and only visit to Wolfe Creek. “I have. Last year, as a matter of fact.”

“Last year?”

Maggie nodded.

“When last year?” If Candi meant to push, it wasn’t obvious. She still wore an amiable expression that Maggie couldn’t help but warm to.

“Last fall. October.”

Candi’s smile faded. And for the first time Maggie noticed the fine lines around her green eyes. “When last October?”

“Right before Halloween. October thirtieth.”

Candi didn’t say a word. Instant recognition lit her face. She knew who Maggie was.

And her reason for being in town.

Chapter Two

“I’d love to ask you a few questions, if I could,” Maggie said, worried that Candi would simply turn her back and walk away. Tip be damned.

“I’m so sorry for what happened, hon. I really am. But we’ve all told the police everything we know.”

Maggie smiled nervously. “Well, I’m not the police, so…”

“I know you’re not.” Candi threw a look over her shoulder, then leaned close to the table. “I understand you want to find out for yourself. Hell, I’d probably do the same if I were you. I’ve seen you on the news. I know how much you want to find your friend. But this isn’t the kind of town an outsider goes snooping around in.”

Before Candi could move away, Maggie grabbed her hand. It was an uncharacteristic move. In the last year, she’d grown introverted and distrustful. She didn’t like to touch people, and she didn’t like to be touched. But deep down, she felt like this girl might be able to help. And that was worth reaching out for.

“Please,” she said, surprised at the desperation in her voice. “I don’t know where to start.”

Candi considered this. “I know.” She took a breath and glanced over her shoulder again. “I’ll tell you one thing,” she whispered, “you can’t just go around asking a bunch of random people questions. If you’re going to find anything out, and I really don’t know
if
there’s anything to find out, but if there is, you’ll have to start at the top. Work your way to the bottom. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Maggie shook her head, feeling thick.

“The sheriff’s department.”

Maggie knew who the sheriff of Deep Water County was. She’d seen him on the news, read about him in the paper, called him too many times to count, only to be brushed off, as usual. “I’ve tried,” she said. “He won’t talk to me.”

“I’m talking about the deputies. The sheriff won’t talk to you, but I’m betting a few of the deputies would.”

“Who? Which ones?”

At that moment, the door to the café opened, bringing with it an icy gust of wind and a tall, broad-shouldered man in uniform.

Candi smiled. “That one, right there.”

Maggie shifted in her chair, her shoulder blades biting into the rigid wood backing. The deputy looked down at her, openly hostile, his gaze dark and flat, his jaw tight.

“Maggie, this is Deputy Wolfe. Koda, this is Maggie,” Candi said.

“Sullivan,” Maggie finished, forcing a smile and sticking out her hand. “Maggie Sullivan.”

He didn’t take it. “I know who you are. What are you doing here?”

It took a second for that to sink in. She couldn’t shake the fact that he looked familiar. Native American, like so many other people in town. And gorgeous.
One thing about it,
she thought,
Wolfe Creek has good genes.
His jet-black hair, worn short and a little messy, made him look rugged, dangerous…and very attractive. He had a prominent jaw, a straight, narrow nose, and a wide mouth, set in an unfriendly line. His eyes, black as his hair, shone with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.

She took a sip of coffee and her hand shook. She set the cup down, hoping he hadn’t noticed. Glancing up, she tried to ignore his incredibly inconvenient good looks and focus on what really mattered.

“I’m here to try and find out what happened to my friend. Is that okay with you?”
Ouch.
She immediately wished she could bite the words back. If she wanted answers, she’d have to make some friends. And this wasn’t the way to do it. Hot Deputy-1. No Filter Maggie-0.

“No,” he said. “It’s not okay with me. The investigation is still ongoing, and we don’t need any complications. That includes you.” He said this last part while looking her up and down.

“Ha. Investigation? What investigation? As far as I can tell, no one has investigated anything for the last six months.”

Candi slapped a hand on the table. “
Hush,
you two. You want the whole town to hear?” She looked at Maggie. “I can promise you, Deputy Wolfe wants to find your friend just as much as you do. And he’s been working really, really hard to make that happen. And you,” she said, turning to the man taller than her by at least a foot, “it wouldn’t kill you to show some manners. I just got done telling Maggie here that you’d help.”

“Well, I sure wish you hadn’t,” he said, his eyes still locked with Maggie’s. Even more intimidating than the gun on his hip was the way he stood, his posture full of tension and unpredictability. Something about it reminded Maggie of a wild animal. Only his official tan, sheriff’s department uniform made her feel somewhat safe in his presence. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have gone near him with a ten-foot pole.

“I think someone in this town knows what happened to Aimee. With all due respect, Deputy, I’m not leaving Wolfe Creek until I find out who.”

She expected a biting response, but after a few seconds he just shrugged. “It’s a free country, sister.” He nodded to Candi, turned his back, and headed to a booth on the other side of the café where a couple other men waited.

“Wow. Is he always like that?”

Shaking her head, Candi topped off Maggie’s coffee. “He can be a little gruff. Koda’s small town, through and through. But he’s a good deputy. I can promise you that.”

“Wait. Deputy
Wolfe
. As in Wolfe Creek?”

“One in the same. His ancestors settled here at the end of the 1800s. His great-great granddaddy married a Tututni Indian woman. They were the ones who built the Inn, where you’re staying.”

“Interesting,” Maggie said, sneaking a look in his direction. He seemed to have dismissed her completely, talking in low tones to the men he sat with.

“It was a big scandal back then. You can imagine. A white man marrying outside his own race. But they were very much in love. Or so the story goes.”

Maggie nodded and sipped her coffee. There seemed to be more to the little town of Wolfe Creek than she’d originally thought.

“Oh, my.” Candi smiled and it lit up her entire face. Her earrings glittered against her neck and looked totally out of place next to the dowdiness of the café. “Here I am lecturing Koda about his manners, and I’ve gone and forgotten my own. It’s nice to meet you.” She extended a manicured hand.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Maggie said.

And surprisingly enough, she meant it.

Koda Wolfe sat in his department issued SUV, a dusty, green-and-white Ford Explorer, with the engine running. A continuous cloud of exhaust rolled onto the night air, accompanied by the low, patient rumble of the motor.

The Inn sat across the street, its historical elegance in direct contrast to the town’s one and only tavern, which sidled up right next to it. Bill’s Tavern was where everyone and their dog got sauced on Saturday nights, and all the nights in between.

Every now and then, someone would go in or out, releasing a steady stream of bar smoke, music, and a “fuck you” or two.

Koda watched and waited, not quite apathetic, but close. He’d seen it all before, hundreds of times. Drinking, fights, jealousy over women. Plain boredom. Everything that accumulated over years of living in a town that was essentially cut off from the rest of the world. Mountain living was hard. And these people were harder. It took a special kind of person to be able to make it here, and he was constantly questioning his own motive for sticking around.

Blinking into the darkness, he looked back at the Inn and the small yellow car parked out front. It stuck out like a sore thumb, and something about that irritated him.
Maggie Sullivan
. He’d recognized her immediately this morning. She’d initially been a suspect in Aimee Styles’s disappearance, just like everyone else in Wolfe Creek. But that had been standard procedure, and she’d been ruled out almost immediately.

For the better part of a year, she’d been on everything from CNN to
Good Morning America
trying to get the word out about her best friend, whose face haunted him nearly every night in his sleep. And in doing so, had made his life a living hell. Investigating a disappearance in a town this small, where everyone knew everyone else, and therefore, protected everyone else, was hard enough without some busybody city girl trying to play detective.

And now here she was. Different in many ways than she’d looked on TV, but her eyes were the same. Wide, green, and distrustful. Her creamy white skin had the look of someone who didn’t get outside much. A small spattering of freckles across her nose, coupled with wild brown curls and a slender frame, made her look young, although he knew for a fact she was in her mid-twenties. No doubt she was pretty. Maybe even beautiful in a delicate kind of way. And that annoyed him.

When he walked into the café earlier this morning, he’d wanted to haul her up by those delicate shoulders, put her in her car, and send her packing. But what he’d said was true. It was a free country, and he had no control whether she stayed or went. What he
did
have control over, however, was how much he chose to acknowledge her visit. Ignoring her though, would be difficult to damn near impossible, if she befriended people like Candi, who, although well intentioned, had a mouth the size of a ten-gallon drum.

He caught sight of a shadowy male figure emerging from the side door of the Inn. He walked toward the truck, head down, shoulders hunched, with the half-moon overhead casting just enough light so that Koda could make out his long dark hair.

Rolling down the window, he waited as the man approached.

“Ahh, big brother. To what do I owe tonight’s visit?”

“Just making sure you stay out of trouble,” Koda said. “As usual.”

Zane Wolfe leaned against the truck, his worn jean jacket sliding against the paint job and pulled out the butt-ugly gold-embossed lighter that he’d bought on his eighteenth birthday. Koda had the sudden urge to knock it out of his hand. Just like Zane to invest so much in something so bad for him.

Tapping out a cigarette, Zane lit it with practiced ease. It illuminated his darkly handsome face, before simmering to an understated orange glow.

“Don’t you mean babysitting?”

“Whatever,” Koda said.

“I’d call it infringing upon my civil rights. Shouldn’t you be out fighting crime somewhere?”

“I’m stopping it before it starts.”

“Now, that hurts. It really does. Are you implying I’m not a law-abiding citizen?”

“I’m implying that you’ve been in jail more times than the average law-abiding citizen, yes. And what’s with the scruff? Have you given up shaving altogether now?”

“I like it. Besides, it’s coming in faster than I can shave it off.”

“What’s that? Once a week?”

Zane smiled at this and took a drag, his eyes narrowing through the blue smoke he exhaled. “Not to change the subject,” he said. “But there’s a young lady staying just down the hall from me. Goes by the name of Maggie Sullivan.
The
Maggie Sullivan. The one who believes her girlfriend is still out there, haunting the woods of Wolfe Creek or some such shit?”

Koda stiffened. “Zane—”

“She’s not bad-looking. A little skinny for my taste, but I’m not above making an exception.”

“Zane.”

“What?”

“Stay away from her. Understand?”

“I’m just saying she has a nice ass, is all.”

“Look all you want,” Koda snapped. “But that’s it.”

Zane grinned, tilting his head in that cocky way that pissed Koda off so much, and had since the fifth grade. He flicked his cigarette into the frost-covered grass.

“Don’t worry, brother. I’ll keep my distance.” Turning, he jammed his hands back in his pockets. “For now.”

Before he could argue, Zane walked away, headed for the tavern, and probably a date with several tequila shots and a nasty hangover.

Koda watched him go, a familiar combination of love and fear in his heavy heart.