Loyal Wolf. Linda Johnston O.
d="udcec9372-f812-5f75-96d8-3e2e4ed558f3">
“I'm so sorry, Kathlene.”
His expression had turned full of compassion. And suddenly, she found herself in his embrace.
She closed her eyes. She couldn't allow herself to give in to her desire because this man—no, manwolf—was also a really nice and caring guy.
Only…as his mouth sought, then captured, hers, she realized for a fleeting moment that this was what she had been hoping for all day long.
No, from the moment she had first met Jock Larabey.
They were going to make love. She knew it. She also knew how foolish it was.
But for this moment, foolishness be damned. She opened her own lips, allowed her tongue to seek out his, even as her body pressed up against him.
LINDA O. JOHNSTON loves to write. While honing her writing skills, she worked in advertising and public relations, then became a lawyer…and enjoyed writing contracts. Linda's first published fiction appeared in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine and won a Robert L. Fish Memorial Award for Best First Mystery Short Story of the Year. Linda now spends most of her time creating memorable tales of paranormal romance, romantic suspense and mystery. Visit www.lindaojohnston.com.
Loyal Wolf
Linda O. Johnston
Loyal Wolf is dedicated to shapeshifters and the readers who love them. And also to my husband, Fred, who, though not a writer, is an excellent sounding board for plot issues.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Deputy Sheriff Kathlene Baylor steered down the narrow, tree-lined lane toward the entrance to Clifford Cabins, a rustic motel a few miles out of town. She was driving her personal car, a silver SUV, rather than an official Clifford County, Montana, Sheriff’s Department vehicle, despite being in uniform. It was late afternoon, and she was off duty. If she’d had time to go home and change, she would have.
But she was too eager for the pending meeting to incur any further delay.
This outing was definitely not an official activity, though. In fact, it was just the opposite. Even though it should look, to anyone who might be paying attention to her, as if she was just dashing off to go meet up with an old friend.
Not quite.
Kathlene always considered herself a by-the-book, dedicated law-enforcement officer. But that was before.
Now she was too concerned about what was going on in Clifford County to do nothing, even though her boss, Sheriff Melton Frawley, was certain that she was wrong. That she was “worrying her pretty little head about nothing,” was the way he put it.
She sniffed at the very thought of the way the whole department was encouraged by Melton to return to old, antiquated ways, when women weren’t skilled and respected officers of the law, but handy cooks and cleaners who also entertained their men in bed.
She would have complained, claimed discrimination to the County Counsel, the City Attorney of Cliffordsville, or anyone else who would listen. Problem was, no one with any clout cared.
Well, maybe she had no clout, but she wasn’t about to just sit there and let her county be overrun by anarchists.
She slowed down when she saw a small deer darting through the underbrush toward the road. Good move, she thought as the animal stopped, then leaped back into the woods. She wasn’t a hunter but there were a lot of them around. Some legitimate.
The others were the ones who worried her.
At least their encampment was a few more miles down this road. And that deer—plus, much more important, the humans around here—might survive if what she believed was true, and the people she was going to see helped her do something about it.
There. She had reached the sign identifying the winding drive to the Clifford Cabins. She turned and headed toward them.
She’d received a call. Help had arrived.
She only hoped they would really figure out what was going on—and the situation was thereafter fixed appropriately.
* * *
A knock sounded on the cabin door. Right on time, Lieutenant Jock Larabey thought.
“Want me to get it?” His aide, Staff Sergeant Ralf Nunnoz, glanced toward Jock. Like his superior officer, he was dressed casually, with no indication that either one of them was in the military, let alone part of Alpha Force. Ralf had on well-worn jeans with a Seattle Seahawks T-shirt, since they were supposed to have driven from Washington State to drop in and see Jock’s supposed long-term friend Kathlene Baylor before heading for Yellowstone National Park. Ralf’s hair was short, of course, as was Jock’s, but there was no other indication of their background.
“You’re sure Click is hidden well?” Jock asked. He didn’t want his cover dog seen, particularly this early in the assignment.
All Alpha Force shapeshifting members had cover dogs that resembled them in their changed forms, and Click