Undercover In Conard County
New York Times bestselling author Rachel Lee returns to Conard County with a supercharged romance! !When hunters threaten local wildlife, investigator Kel Westin vows to catch the perpetrators. But as he's sent undercover to work with game warden Desi Jenks, Kel finds himself caught off guard by his need to protect her, too.Desi trusts no one. That includes the sexy former army ranger living in her bunkhouse, posing as a poacher. As a dangerous group gathers in the mountains, she must put her life in Kel's hands, a move that will change their fragile, growing bond forever…
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New York Times bestselling author Rachel Lee returns to Conard County with a supercharged romance!
When hunters threaten local Wyoming wildlife, investigator Kel Westin vows to catch the perpetrators. But as heâs sent to work undercover with game warden Desi Jenks, Kel finds himself caught off guard by his need to protect her, too. Something tells him both he and Desi are kept awake at night by pasts that wonât let go.
Desi trusts no one. That includes the sexy former army ranger living in her bunkhouse, posing as a poacher to bait the ring. As a dangerous group gathers in the mountains, she must put her life in Kelâs hands, a move that will change their fragile, growing bond forever...
Opening his eyes, hanging on to his temper, Kel gave her another soft kiss.
âI want to do it again. But like I said, letâs take it slow.â
âBecause of me?â
Damn. Was he messing this up? âBecause I want it to be perfect and right for both of us. Okay?â
Desi nodded, then let her head fall against his shoulder. Relieved, he snuggled her in, astonished that this self-assured woman had exposed so much vulnerability to him. Vulnerability he had never imagined could be part of a woman who presented such a confident face to the world.
He felt a little shiver run through her, then she softened completely. Staring at nothing, he held her and wondered what he was walking into. What he might be dragging her into.
* * *
Be sure to check out the rest of the
Conard County: The Next Generation series!
RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.
Dedicated to my daughter,
an urban and regional planner, who is on the side of preserving nature, too.
Contents
Six men sat around a poker table in the back room of an historic hotel somewhere in Wyoming. They were only vaguely aware of its history, but the bullet holes that pockmarked the expansive wood bar out front hinted at it. The place was supposedly haunted, too, but they didnât care and didnât believe.
They had business to discuss.
A new outfitter had shown up late last spring, and from what they could tell, he was unlicensed. The men at the table were unlicensed as well, lying to clients from out of state, telling the nonresidents that they could legally hunt under the outfitterâs license. Not true, but they didnât care.
No, they led the hunts into public lands as far away from possible observation as they could get, wined and dined the hunters to make them feel like big deals, then got them their damn trophies, knowing these guys would leave the state immediately.
Babied them, is what they did, sometimes even setting up the shot and aiming the rifle.
It was good money, all of it carefully laundered out of state.
But now some new guy was horning in, and he could be big trouble. Losing a few trophies to the hunters he guided wasnât as much of a concern as his lower charges. He could force them all to charge less, especially if he got enough people to work for him.
The bigger concern was that if he screwed up heâd bring a lot more scrutiny to bear and could cause their operations to cut way back until the heat went away. Also, they couldnât afford to take this fight public by reporting him. Not when theyâd spent so long carefully burying themselves below the stateâs radar.
The burly guy with the ponytail slapped his cards facedown on the table. âWe gotta eliminate him. As in dead.â
The other men nodded. If this interloper had just played nice with them, they might have let him in, but instead heâd started a solo operation. No respect. Dangerous.
âOkay,â said a man whose face was nearly as grooved as the mountainous landscape. âAccidents happen, people disappear out there. Find out where his base is.â
âIâm hearing Conard County,â said the ponytail man. He knew a lot more, but he wasnât about to share or reveal his sources to anyone. They had to be well protected. But this guy he wanted dead? He wasnât what he pretended to be, a fact that ponytail kept to himself. Knowledge was power and he had it. The last thing he wanted was for his partners to wet their pants and run.
âWell, hell,â said the man with mountain terrain for a face. âHe hasnât set up shop, that Iâve heard.â
âJust about to,â said ponytail. âAnd thatâs one of our most profitable areas.â
âYeah,â said one of the other men, his voice gravelly from cigarettes, his face weathered until it looked like a map. âHe dies. Just make it look like an accident.â
The ponytailed man nodded and never mentioned that they had a second target: that nuisance of a warden, Desi Jenks. One favor for another. If they guessed that theyâd probably all turn into frightened grannies.
