Legend of the White Wolf

Chapter 1

IN THE DARK OF NIGHT, THE ROADS SLUSHY, THE SNOW plowed in dirty heaps beyond the shoulders, Faith O'Malley drove her rented SUV from Maine's Bangor International Airport to Millinocket, a prickle of awareness making her uneasy. She glanced at the rearview mirror, sure the headlights had been tailing her all the way. Which made her wonder again if her father's concern that he'd been followed for some time before her boyfriend had stolen his research paper was based on reality.

On the other hand, maybe believing someone was now stalking her had all to do with the kind of work she did as a forensic scientist solving crimes and being way too suspicious of everyone and everything. Normally. When it came to Hilson Snowdon, she hadn't been suspicious enough.

A mile from the turnoff for the hotel, she heard a tremendous boom. Gunfire?

Her rental swerved toward the shoulder as if a ghostly force had taken control. Adrenaline flooded her as she twisted the steering wheel to the left, veering away from a speed limit sign. The back end of the vehicle on the right side felt like it was listing. A blow-out, not gunfire. A smidgen of relief washed over her. She eased onto the shoulder and pulled the vehicle to a stop, but didn't cut the engine. What next?

The truck she thought had been following her pulled up behind her, the lights shining in her rearview mirror. The pickup idled, waiting.

Her heartbeat sped up again. Not about to hang around for the truck driver's help, in case he was bad news, she fumbled in her purse for her cell phone, yanked it out, then punched in the number for roadside service.

When the operator asked her location, Faith gave her the exit number off the highway.

"It'll be about an hour, ma'am," the woman said.

"Thanks, I'll be here." Unfortunately. Faith hung up when she saw movement near the right back door. She jerked her head around. In the dark of night, looking through tinted windows, Faith couldn't see who the person was who had come up behind her vehicle, but she heard the click as the individual yanked on the door handle. Locked.

Something pounced against the door. Her heart gave a little start. Large almond-shaped eyes, shining an eerie greenish orange color, peered in through the window.

Steeling her nerves, she made sure all the doors were locked again, and considered driving the mile into town on the bad tire.

What looked like a big white Samoyed, but not half as fuzzy, raced around the front of the car, her headlights illuminating him as he headed for the driver's side. She wondered if the dog was half Arctic wolf. His long muzzle was not Samoyed in appearance, but more wolf like. The person who'd tried the door handle wasn't in sight as the dog jumped against her door. Reflexively, she jerked away from it. The animal peered in at her with its shining eyes, its huge front paws resting on her window.

A key clicked in the front door lock on the passenger's side. Without a second's hesitation, she jammed her foot on the gas pedal and sped off.

Bad tire or no.

Her skin crawling from the experience, she slowed up ahead, figuring it would take the dog and his owner a little while to follow her, and she didn't want to make more of a mess of the tire than she had to. She crept toward the off-ramp, hazard lights flashing, then headed for a lighted service station on the corner. The truck's lights had vanished. Either he continued on past the exit, or he was driving without lights.

She parked at the service station where, inside, she found two middle-aged men drinking coffee who offered to help her change the tire, so she cancelled the road side service. The whole time the men changed the tire, they asked her where she was from, what she was doing here, genuinely friendly, idle talk, while she watched for the pickup that had parked behind her on the road. Either he was afraid she'd tell on him and he was waiting for her to leave the well-lit service station, or she'd somehow missed seeing him drive on by when she was getting help to change the tire.

Thanking the men, she offered to pay them. They gave her small smiles and declined, the one saying he had a daughter who he hoped someone would help out if she was ever in need. Faith thanked them again, hoping she wouldn't encounter the pickup driver again, left, and a few minutes later arrived at the Woodlands Travel Lodge.

Glancing up at the rearview mirror, she swore the streetlights illuminated the same gray pickup truck that had been following her, but the tinted windows hid the driver as he drove past. Slowly. Didn't matter that the speed limit was thirty here or that the road was perfectly drivable, salted or sanded. She still thought he was going much slower than necessary. As if he was checking her out. But maybe it wasn't the same vehicle at all.

Yep, shades of her father. Although after her boyfriend stole her father's research paper, she could see how Dad would be somewhat paranoid.

Faith sighed. She fully intended to get his flash drive back from Hilson, one way or another. Yet as much as her father wanted it returned, he still wouldn't tell her what information it held. She'd find out soon enough, just as she had told him. It would be just like any other mystery-solving mission she did. Well, maybe not just like any other. This time it was personal.

She grabbed her suitcase and headed inside the blue lodge, her overnight stop before she trekked into the remoter part of Maine and the cabins where she'd stay during her dealing-with-Hilson mission, when her cell phone jingled. She stopped midstream in the lobby, fumbled around in her oversized leather purse, then finally fished the phone out. She kept telling herself she was going to wear it around her neck for easier access as many times as her father had called her since she'd left her apartment in Portland, Oregon.

"Yes, I'm finally, finally here, Dad."

"Any sign of Hilson?"

"He's not here. I have to stay at a lodge for the night in Millinocket since it's too late to navigate the wilderness in the dark. At least that's what the owners of the cabins said. He's supposed to be at a cabin resort about two miles or more from mine, only accessible by snowmobile. I'll confront him as soon as I can, return to Millinocket, and call you."

"You don't need to read my research paper, Faith. Just bring it back home safe and sound."

She couldn't understand why he was so secretive about the research he'd done. But now, just as he was going to reveal it at an upcoming conference, voila! Hilson steals his flash drive as well as his hard drive. "I'll bring it home, Dad. I promise." At least she prayed she wouldn't fail him. He hadn't worked on anything else beyond teaching at the local community college in years and this was so important to him. She kept wondering if Hilson had put the moves on her just so he could get to her father and his research. "Got to check in at the lodge. Call you later."

"Night, Faith. And Faith?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"I hope you dump the guy."

"Consider him dumped." Although it appeared Hilson had already dumped her. "No way would I trust him again. Love you and good night, Dad."

Everything that had gone on between her and Hilson kept running through her mind like a continuous computer loop. How he'd wined and dined her, bought her gifts, but always held back. As if there was someone else in his life. Maybe someone he was still married to? She'd joked about it, but he'd smiled coolly and made love to her as if to prove to her no one else existed. And yet, something had been missing.

Then again, maybe it was all her fault. She'd been looking for love, but hadn't really felt it for him either. She'd needed the intimacy, but somewhere along the line, it hadn't felt real. Now all she felt toward him was anger, betrayal, hurt, and every other negative emotion in the book—but it all had to do with his stealing her father's research and nothing to do with the end of her relationship with Hilson. That's what worried her the most. What was wrong with her?

When she reached the front desk, the clerk said to someone on the phone, "Just a minute, honey. Got another customer."

"Faith O'Malley," Faith said, leaning against the counter, ready for a room-service meal, a hot shower, and a good night's sleep, after missing one connecting flight due to engine trouble, being delayed three hours because of a snowstorm en route, and problems getting her assigned rental car. Not to mention the flat tire. What should have taken only a few hours—if everything had gone smoothly—ended up being an all-day string of disasters.

"Room 318, miss," the clerk said, handing her the card key, nodding as she listened to someone on the phone. She raised her brows at Faith. "Need a wake-up call in the morning?"

"No, thanks." If that was one thing Faith didn't need was a wake-up call. Sleeping in was just something she couldn't get her body to agree with. "Do you know where the Back Country Tours office is?"

"Down the street about a half mile. Can't miss it." The clerk smiled. "Sign out front has a carved white wolf on it. And the owners, Lila Grayson and Kintail Silverman, can be seen around town with a couple of pet wolves in tow when they're not guiding hunting tours in the way back country."

"Wolves."

"Yep. Tame, sweetest-natured old things, just like big beautiful huskies, only pure white."

"Arctic wolves." She thought back to the animal that had pounced on her rental vehicle. It wasn't a Samoyed, but a real wolf? Then it had to belong to the same people she needed to get in touch with. She'd report the man with the wolf who was following her, whoever he was, to the owner of Back Country Tours.

"Guess they would be Arctic wolves. The couple is from the Canadian Arctic up around Yellowknife. Return there in the summers. Real cold weather folks. Although they like hunting different animals here, black bear, bobcat, moose, rather than caribou and whatever else they go after up there. Pretty neat, huh? Winter home here and summer home there? They don't like the summer heat at all, although it's nothing like living in some hot weather places like Florida. When I lived there—"

A man jingled his keys behind Faith, and she glanced back. He frowned at her.

"Thanks, I'll be checking out early in the morning," Faith said to the clerk and grabbed her suitcase, then headed for the elevator, looking forward to dinner and a hot shower without any more delays.

Once she reached her room, she slid the key card in. Green light. She twisted the handle and pushed. The door didn't budge. She tried again. Same thing. She hated key cards. Why couldn't they just use regular old brass keys?

She tried a third time and this time she twisted the handle harder and shoved the door more firmly. And was rewarded. Lights were on in the room and the place was already toasty warm as if the welcoming mat had been set out for her. Perfect. She walked into the room and glanced at the two queen-sized beds, one with the chartreuse covers pulled back from the pillow, a chocolate wrapped in gold foil sitting on the center of it. She smiled and pulled off her parka, peeled off her boots, and reached for the phone to call room service when she saw a leather bucket filled with ice. Wow, they sure knew how to coddle their guests.

That's when the bathroom door opened. She whipped around and faced a naked man towel-drying his hair. Or at least until he saw her.

His mouth gaped. Her expression matched his, and he quickly wrapped the towel around his waist. "I didn't think room service would come this soon." He glanced down at her sock-covered feet, her boots lying beside them.

"I'm not… I'm… they gave me a key to your room by accident." Faith tried not to look at the man's physique—too much—but ripped abs, arms muscled just enough to give a woman a good hug, and toned legs that looked like they could run a marathon, were just too appealing.

And his eyes—blue like the ocean, dark, hiding a wealth of secrets, that held her gaze with way too much interest, as if she was the specialty of the house and just what he'd ordered from the menu. Light blond stubble covered his square jaw, making him appear a bit roguish and intriguing.

He folded his arms across his broad chest. A light smattering of blond hair trailed down to the towel slung low on his hips. Her gaze dropped lower. He cleared his throat to get her attention, making her skin heat in a flush of awareness, but he wasn't moving out of her path to the door. Just now she wished it were her room, and he were part of the amenities.

He inclined his head a little, a hint of a smile on his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then I guess I'd better get dressed before—"

A knock rapped on the door.

"Too late." His deeply amused baritone sounded like he was enjoying this a little too much, as he turned, took a couple of steps, and opened the door.

Great. Faith hurried to pull on her boots, when the aroma of steak wafted into the room as a man brought in a tray. Faith's stomach growled. The room service guy glanced at her, green eyes smiling. She could just imagine what he was thinking, what with the room's occupant wearing a towel, and her pulling her boots on.

The toweled guy signed the bill, and the lodge employee grinned, dimples appearing in his ruddy cheeks. "Thanks so much, sir. If you need anything else, just ring." He glanced at Faith, smiled even more as if to say she could visit him next if she had a mind to, then left the room.

"Enough for two of us, if you want to split a medium rare steak, baked potato, and salad," the sandy-haired hunk said.

"Thanks so much for the offer, but I'm returning to the front desk to get the right room key. Have a nice night." She brushed past the mostly naked man, smiled when he smiled, then hurried out of the room.

"The night could have been better," he murmured.

She glanced back at him, wishing he was the kind of man she had been dating, and could justify staying and splitting his dinner with him, then maybe share the chocolate treat resting on his pillow with him. And more. For the first time ever, she seriously wanted to flirt with a man. Something about him appealed to her, as if he were the real McCoy, spontaneous and fun-loving, and for an instant, she yearned for that. Wanted to feel that a man who looked like this guy with a hint of the devil in his expression and actions found her appealing, too.

The man lifted a brow and smiled again, his chiseled features and intensely intriguing gaze nearly irresistible. She faltered, but shook her head, and hurried for the elevator before she did anything she might regret in the morning. She didn't look back at him, although she wanted to see if he was still watching her. But she felt he was doing just that, observing her, maybe hoping she'd change her mind? Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part that someone was truly interested in her after Hilson ditched her. On further introspection, she realized she hadn't heard his door shut.

It wasn't until she returned to the front desk with her suitcase in tow that she realized she'd left her parka on the man's desk chair. She let out her breath in exasperation. Okay, so the day turned night wasn't going to get any better.

A line of five guests was waiting for rooms. The clerk still had the cell phone stuck to her ear as she nodded and chatted it up with the woman first in line.

Faith didn't hesitate to stalk up to the counter, pulling her bag with her. The woman who was being waited on looked at Faith as if she was ready to clobber her for trying to barge in.

"Excuse me," Faith said to the clerk and handed her the key card, "but someone else was already in Room 318."

The girl's eyes widened. Then she smiled. "Oh, my, you mean you got the key to Cameron MacPherson's room?" She put her hand to her breast. "If I'd made the mistake, I would have just stayed."

That's saying he wanted the clerk to stay. And jeesh, the clerk had made the mistake. No apology? "Another room, please?"

The clerk held out the new key card. "This one is for Room 317."

"Three-seventeen."

"Yep. The numbers were close. It's directly across the hall from Mr. MacPherson's." She winked. "Tell him if he needs anything, just to give me a holler."

Faith shook her head, grabbed the key card, and headed back to the elevator. At least with his room being across from hers, she could ask for her parka without having to traipse across the whole of the hotel and back.

As soon as she reached her room, she struggled to get the key card to work, then gave the door a shove. The room was dark and cold. She fumbled for the light switch, but when she turned on the lamps, the bedcover wasn't pulled back from the pillow, nor was a gold foil covered chocolate waiting for her either. And of course the ice bucket was perfectly empty. She wondered if Cameron got the special treatment because he was a big tipper, or just an incredibly smooth-talking hunk.

She sighed and rolled her bag next to the bed, then headed back for the door. She might as well get this over with before she finally settled down for the night.

Glancing at her watch, she hadn't realized how late it was already. Probably too late to order anything from the kitchen. But if she ate at this hour, the food would most likely just sit like a lump in her stomach when she went to bed anyway. She knocked on Cameron MacPherson's door.

While waiting for him, she closed her eyes and yawned. Man, she was ready to skip the shower and just collapse in bed.

The door squeaked opened. Wearing only a pair of stone-washed jeans that looked incredibly soft, shirtless and barefoot, Cameron smiled, but he hadn't brought her parka to the door. He looked every bit as sexy as when he was wearing only a towel.

"Are you sure you don't want to have a bite with me?" He motioned to the tray on the table.

The old werewolf movie with Jack Nicholson was playing on the television, and by the sound of the growling, she envisioned he had shapeshifted and was fighting the bad wolf, if she recalled the movie correctly.

She gave Cameron a tired smile. "Under other circumstances, maybe. I left my parka here?"

"You look like you could use a meal and the kitchen's closed by now." His voice, deep and pleasing, sent little chills of expectation through her.

But she resisted the temptation and held out her hand for her coat. "Thanks, but I'm fine." He retrieved her coat and gave it to her, his hand brushing hers in a sensuous way, which made her skin heat again. She thought he looked a little wistful, hopeful that she'd stay and keep him company, but she figured if she did, she would melt under whatever spell he seemed to cast over her. It wasn't like her to be that attracted to a guy she'd just met. She glanced down at his hand, no wedding ring. When her gaze returned to his, he was smiling broadly.

Usually a lot less obvious than that when she was scrutinizing a man's marital status— although he might be married and just not wear a wedding ring—she felt her skin heat even more. "Thanks," she said quickly, turned around, and left his room before she made any more of a fool of herself. But as soon as she reached her door and slipped her hand in her jeans pocket, she realized she didn't have the key.

Cameron watched the petite blonde stand before her room, her parka draped over her arm, her hand shoved into her pocket, but she didn't make a motion to unlock her door.

She'd left the key in the room?

The poor woman. She looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion. However, he'd seen the way she'd looked at him and checked to see if he was married, which meant only one thing. She'd been intrigued. Might have even stayed for dinner if she had been more impulsive. Probably a good thing she wasn't. At least, not the way she looked, wearing a sparkling white sweater that caressed nice-sized breasts and form-fitting black jeans that showed off lots of curves, conjuring up the image of sexy, soft, and cuddly. Gold curls swept over her shoulders, and she looked like she belonged on a beach in a bikini, soaking up the sun, a long way from here.

"Want me to call down and have the hotel staff bring you up another key?"

She hesitated, mulling over her options, he figured, not saying anything for a minute, just staring at the immovable door. Then she turned around and her lush lips, glossed with something shimmering, pink—and sensuous—curved up. Her stunning green eyes sparkled like emeralds in the bright hall lights, mesmerizing him. Hell, he was a sucker for green eyes.

She arched an eyebrow and gave a cute little snort. "Uhm, thanks, but I can manage." She straightened her shoulders and trudged down the hall toward the elevator.

She had spunk, he had to admit. And some damned nice curves. He watched her wiggle her tush all the way to the elevator, then waited until she was inside, just in case she changed her mind. She didn't. His loss.

He closed his door and padded back to the bed. But he couldn't put the woman out of his mind. Not that he needed any distractions for now while he was on his mission, but until tomorrow morning, he couldn't get much done anyway. He slipped out of his jeans and climbed into bed. Bright and early, he was going to check out Back Country Tours to learn why his friends hadn't arrived home on time, without any word of explanation.

But even so, Cameron couldn't help listening for the woman to return to her room, and when he heard the door click open and shut several minutes later, he relaxed a little. Then the door clicked open and shut again. He waited, listening. The ice maker down the hall ground, the ice clunking into the bucket. Then her door opened and shut again.

He tucked his arms behind his head and fantasized how he might have breakfast with the little lady before he took off for his next destination—cabins in the wilderness, no land phones, no cell phone service—he'd have to rely on his instincts more in this investigation. Cameron hoped his friends weren't in any real trouble, hoped they had just been unable to get in touch with him and their P.I. partner, Gavin Summerfield, who was still running their business back in Seattle in the meantime.

Cameron sighed. Seven days. That's how long the hunting trip was supposed to last. Add a couple of days travel time. Two weeks, max. They'd even had to turn down some lucrative jobs because they were so short handed. But it beat the heck out of him how he got stuck leaving Seattle to land in this snow-filled landscape instead of Gavin.

Cameron's cell phone rang. Speak of the devil. Gavin. "Hey, no word yet, but I'll be going to the cabins tomorrow after I stop by Back Country Tours to see if anyone's in the office in the morning. We'll have a phone blackout for a while once I reach the resort."

"I received a garbled message. Sounded like Owen and he said something about being unable to get word to us. It sounded like he said he and David were all right. And quitting. Quitting the hunt? The static was too bad, and I couldn't make out any more before the phone line cut out completely."

"But he really sounded all right? Not under duress? Not in any kind of trouble or anything, were they?"

"I'd like to say no. But the connection was so bad, I couldn't really say."

Cameron opened his mouth to speak, when a woman screamed—from the room across the hall.