Feral (Wolf Ranch 3)

It was eleven o’clock when I heard the crunch of tires over gravel and saw his truck pull in. Tucking my gun in a holster at my back, I pulled a lightweight jacket on over the top to hide it.

I called Vaughn. “He’s back, I’m going down to get it all on film.”

“Only photos,” he ordered. “Do not try to make an arrest on your own. You might be in Bumfuck, Montana, but bad shit still happens. You call for backup before you do anything, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up.

I rechecked my weapon out of habit and re-holstered it behind my back.

It was showtime.

Outside, the moon shone high in the sky, lighting my path. It made it harder to blend in. I hadn’t dressed in black or put smudges on my face this time since I had the excuse that I’d been invited to watch the cattle load-up, but I still would have preferred not to be seen. If I could somehow get to the feed bags and open them to verify they contained drugs, then I’d have everything I needed. I could take pictures with my phone and instantly send them back to Vaughn. That would ensure a search warrant.

I stopped when I got close and used the night vision camera to see what was going on. Jack was loading cattle into the small pen beside the chute like he’d said he would. The cows would walk up and onto the hauler, perhaps with a little coaxing for the first one. The rest would follow. The truck hadn’t arrived yet, but if they were being herded together, it was coming soon. Markle had backed his pickup up to the barn which meant that was where I needed to be.

I stayed low and crept closer, skirting around the outside of the barn and hiding behind it. I waited until I heard the slam of a door and the pickup start. Then Markle pulled away, stopping to tell Jack to go home and he’d get the cattle loaded when the trailer showed up.

To me, it meant he was going to add the drugs. No way would he load cattle all on his own otherwise.

I touched the gun at my back for reassurance before I slid in the shadows along the side of the barn. Jack started a beat up twenty-year-old pickup and pulled out, his tail lights receding down the drive. Meanwhile, Markle was parking his vehicle in front of his house, hopefully going inside to wait. I darted around the corner and slipped into the open door of the barn.

It definitely wasn’t an animal barn. Or at least it wasn’t currently being used for them. There was no tang of manure. No hay. Along the front wall was a stack of crates. Nothing huge but could definitely fit in the back of a pickup. I tried to open one, but it was nailed shut.

Dammit.

I pulled out my hunting knife to use to pry the lid off. It took some work, but I finally got it loose. I quietly propped the lid against the crate and peered inside. It looked like a plastic bag full of cattle feed. I sliced it open with my knife and fished around inside.

Bingo! I pulled out a package of snowy white powder. Cocaine.

I couldn’t help the grin. After months of investigation, one awful date and a goodnight kiss, I had Markle. All I needed now was to get some pics off to Vaughn for that backup and—

A gun cocked right beside my ear. “Put it down and turn around, real slow.”

Fuck!

Markle.

How had I not heard him? My senses were usually so sharp.

I moved slowly, lowering the cocaine to the crate then lifting my hands in the air and turning around.

“Most women give me a BJ for a dinner date. When you didn’t put out, or at least drop to your knees, I had to wonder. Who the fuck are you?” he demanded. His usual swagger was replaced with fierce determination. Darkness. Evil.

I pursed my lips. Did I bluff or throw my badge in his face? Neither seemed like a great option at the moment, not with his pistol pointed right at me.

“Murrieta sent me. To watch over you. Make sure you didn’t skim any from him.”

His eyes narrowed. I could tell he wasn’t sure because it was probably something the kingpin might have done, but the fact that he didn’t look confused told me I was right about his connection with the cartel.

“You’re lying.” He shifted from foot to foot, his eyes darting around the barn and out the door, like he was looking for my back up.

My non-existent back up.

Shit! If only I’d had time to call for help. No one knew I was here. Vaughn was probably tucked in his bed sleeping.

“Nice try, but that bastard Murrieta doesn’t send women to do a man’s job. No fucking way. He keeps his women tied up and on their knees. So, who are you? FBI? DEA?”