The Wolf Marshal's Pack (U.S. Marshal Shifters 3)

She was hoping that if she said that often enough, she’d somehow fool her mom into believing it by sheer repetition.

“The sooner Colby

catches this Hebbert guy, the better, so I want to do anything I can to help him do it fast. Otherwise, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

Doreen gave her a hard-eyed once-over, and then, to Aria’s surprise, a little bit of humor crept into her expression.

“And I’m sure,” she said sweetly, “that this wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that that man is just about delectable.”

“Oh my God, Mom.”

“You can’t pretend you haven’t noticed, sweetheart. Men like that don’t walk into a woman’s life every day of the week. And I saw the way he looked at you.”

Aria snorted. “Please.”

“I mean it.”

Maybe she did. But her mom was predisposed to think the best of her.

Her mom had been the one to indulge Aria’s fleeting attempts, back in high school, at capturing a kind of popular-girl beauty—she’d helped her chemically relax her hair, even though she’d kept up a murmuring lecture the whole time about how Aria’s hair was perfect in its own natural curls. She was always willing to drop everything and help Aria out with company and advice on the rare occasions Aria had a date or a publisher meeting that required some kind of marginally fancy get-up. She’d enthused over some imaginary glow Aria had when she came back from the occasional decadent, way-too-expensive spa day or massage.

Her mom thought she was beautiful. But she was a mom. That was her job.

It didn’t mean that anyone else—particularly someone who looked like Colby Acton—felt the same way. Especially not on a day like today, when she was coming off a long hike with no shower, she’d gotten rained on, and she’d tracked mud all the way up to her knees.

“You listen to me,” Doreen said firmly. “That man was looking at you like you hung the moon. Don’t be afraid to enjoy that.”

Aria’s mom was a big believer in a woman’s power to wrap a man around her little finger. Aria herself had never felt that kind of easy, instinctive connection to other people, let alone to men in particular. Flirting had always made her feel awkward. She was the original girl with two left feet.

But she knew from long, hard experience that if she tried to say any of that now, it would just result in her mom trying to give her a more extended pep talk. And they didn’t have time for that.

So she just nodded. And she said what she could say honestly: “I’m surprised you even still like him after he agreed to take me to a crime scene.”

Then her mom was the one to snort—the kind of indelicate noise that always sounded strange coming from someone as regal and composed as Doreen. But Aria had gotten this particular little explosion of mirth from her mother, not her father.

“Please,” Doreen said. “I know my own daughter well enough to know what all you can talk somebody into when you really put your mind to it. I can’t blame the poor man for caving into your stubbornness. I’ve done it myself. You’re like running up against a brick wall.”

“He’s also loaning me a gun,” Aria said cheerfully.

Her mother said several unladylike words.

5

As Colby pulled into the nature preserve parking lot, Aria could feel her heart thumping hard in her chest.

She knew she had made the right decision in going with Colby and having her parents take Mattie for the night. But when she saw the trees loom up ahead of her, she still felt cold sweat prickle on her palms.

The woods had never made her nervous before. They’d always felt like a second home.

I’ll be damned if I let Eli Hebbert take that away from me. I just have to get right back on the horse.

A park ranger knocked on the driver’s side window, gesturing for Colby to roll it down.

He had a long, hound-dog face, but his voice was cheerful enough. “You the fella I talked to on the phone? Yeah? Thought you were. I’m Pete Bishop. We ought to have the place pretty well cleaned out by now—we blasted announcements as loud as we could and sent runners along all the trails. Probably scared the crap out of the birds. There might still be a couple stragglers out there, but not many. The parking lot’s cleared out except for our cars. You gonna run that sumbitch to ground?”

“We are,” Colby said.

“Sorry for the language, ma’am,” the ranger added sheepishly. “I just get carried away. We never had a flasher before that I know of, and I don’t want to get one ever again. People running around with their bait and tackle hanging in the wind. It’s indecent.”