“You tell me. What don’t you want me to know? And I’m not going to give up until you tell me what—”
Suddenly, he grabbed her, pulled her tightly against him, and shut her up—by lowering his mouth firmly onto hers.
She resisted only for an instant, then threw herself into the kiss. Was this what she’d wanted all along?
One of his hands held her so firmly against him that she felt his hardness, pushed herself even closer. His other hand stroked first her back, her buttocks. She moaned as it moved forward to cup one breast, tease her nipple …
“You want to know my secrets?” he rasped against her mouth. “Then come upstairs with me, Mariah.”
What could she do but comply?
Dear Reader,
Alaskan Wolf is the second full-length novel about Alpha Force—a highly covert military unit comprised of shapeshifters. It features Lt Patrick Worley, who is a sexy medical doctor, an Alpha Force member, and—of course!—a shapeshifter. Patrick is entrusted with a special mission to Alaska. That’s where he meets magazine writer Mariah Garver.
It was great fun writing about the tension between a strong military type with amazing and inviolable secrets—like shifting into a wolf—and a curious writer who asks lots of questions and stops at nothing to learn about her specialty, wildlife. Conflict? You bet! Not to mention a romance that keeps them simmering.
I hope you enjoy it! Please come visit me at my website: www.LindaOJohnston.com and at my blog: http://KillerHobbies.blogspot.com.
Linda O. Johnston
About the Author
LINDA O. JOHNSTON loves to write. More than one genre at a time? That’s part of the fun. While honing her fiction, she started working in advertising and public relations, then became a lawyer … and still enjoys writing contracts. Linda’s first published fiction appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and won the Robert L. Fish Memorial Award for “Best First Mystery Short Story of the Year.” It was the beginning of her versatile fiction-writing career, starting with more short stories and novellas, as well as time-travel romance and romantic suspense novels. Linda now spends most of her time creating memorable tales of paranormal romance and mystery.
As an animal aficionado, Linda enjoys writing stories in which pets and other creatures play important roles. including shapeshifters. Linda lives in the Hollywood Hills with her husband and two cavalier King Charles spaniels. Visit her at her website: www.LindaOJohnston.com.
Alaskan Wolf
Linda O. Johnston
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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To Alaska, where I’ve enjoyed some delightful journeys, including some of the best cruises ever. And to Fred, who’s always there with me.
Prologue
“Destruction of the Northern Hemisphere?” Lt. Patrick Worley didn’t even try to keep the disbelief from his voice. “Maybe the world?”
“Okay, could be an exaggeration,” responded his superior, Major Drew Connell. His gold-colored eyes that looked so much like those of his wolf side, even when he was in human form, stared sternly at Patrick. “But it might be a real threat. One that could at least destroy parts of Alaska if it isn’t stopped.”
They were in Drew’s office at Ft. Lukman on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. It was small, but he had furnished it well with government-issue gear. Patrick just wished the chairs were more comfortable. Or maybe his discomfort today was more a result of the mission he was just offered.
One he probably couldn’t refuse, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. But he needed a better understanding of what was expected of him. “You’re sure this isn’t just straight global warming?” he asked. “Assuming you believe in it.”
“Oh, I believe in it,” Drew said. “Maybe some of this is part of a natural global cycle, maybe not. But in any case, the current annihilation of one good-sized glacier park the way it’s been happening … We don’t know where it could lead. There’s no underground volcano, like in Iceland. If it’s the result of some kind of terrorist plot, we need to know it.” Drew leaned back in his seat, but his shoulders remained rigid under his standard camouflage uniform that matched Patrick’s, except for the symbols of rank.
“So Alpha Force has been chosen to figure it out. Why? And why send me?” The way Patrick heard it, he was going to be pretty much on his own in Alaska, except that his aide, Sgt. Shaun Bethune, would have his back.
“Some scientists are already up there, studying and doing whatever scientists do,” Drew said. “We need to know what they know, and more. To accomplish our mission, we need someone good. Smart. Someone who’s been part of Alpha Force since its inception, and knows how to utilize his assets—all of them, including our brand of brew.”
Patrick laughed. “Love that stuff.”
“We all do,” Drew agreed drily. He was the one who’d first concocted the elixir that was so important to this highly covert special ops unit. Patrick, also a medical doctor, had helped to refine it.
“In other words, a super shapeshifter who knows his stuff.”
“You got it.” Drew smiled for the first time. “And why Alpha Force? Because word is quietly getting out, in the right circles, that despite being relatively new, we’re damn good. We can undertake assignments no other military unit could possibly hope to succeed at—not the way we do it, as fast or as well. We can approach them from more angles than anyone. So … you willing?”
“Sure am,” Patrick said with no hesitation.
“Okay, then. Number one priority is to find out why those glaciers are coming apart so devastatingly and so fast. But while you’re at it, you’ve got to maintain the secrecy of Alpha Force, and who and what we are, at all costs. Mingle with people, maintain your cover—and we’ve got a great one for you. Above all, study the glaciers, using everything you’ve got. Study everyone you meet, too—learn what they know, but without letting them get to know you and your mission. And report in to me often. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Patrick said, giving his superior officer a mocking, yet genuine, salute.
His grin quickly faded as he turned to leave. Drew had made his point. This mission was serious.
The future of Alaska—and maybe even Alpha Force—could be riding on his success.
Chapter 1
Trying not to let her frozen breath get in her way, Mariah Garver smiled as she watched the playful huskies on the screen of her digital camera and pushed the button over and over to capture their pictures. The dogs’ barks and growls filled the icy early morning air.
She panned around, from the fenced area beside her toward the house at the end of the driveway on which she stood—and stopped fast as male legs clad in jeans and boots appeared on her screen.
Lowering the camera, she looked up into the scowling face of one of the most attractive men she had ever seen—and there were plenty of great-looking men in Alaska. Sharp, handsome features were etched into a long face with a charmingly cleft chin. There was a decided sensuality to him that made her insides grow incongruously warm. But with the way he was frowning, his light brown eyes looked almost feral. In fact, she had a sense of something wild and untamed about this man.
Her sudden unease was exacerbated when he demanded harshly, “What do you want?”
“A dogsled ride.” She hated how hesitant she sounded. That wasn’t like her at all.
She turned off her camera and slipped it into the tote bag that she had remembered to take out of her four-wheel-drive SUV after parking at the street edge of the driveway. Squaring her shoulders beneath her all-weather vest, she strode toward the man, hearing her boots crunch over the icy surface of the driveway. Why hadn’t she heard him arrive? Probably because she’d been concentrating on her photography and the noisy dogs.
She’d shot a lot of pictures of the dozens of gorgeous silvery, black-and-brown huskies cavorting playfully in the snow behind the wooden fence. They weren’t wild animals. In fact, she assumed they were well domesticated, perfectly trained. But they would make a fantastic contrast with the rest of the creatures she intended to photograph around here.
“I’m Mariah Garver,” she said. “I’m here to do an article on local wildlife for Alaskan Nature Magazine, and I want to hire a dogsled team and musher to take me onto the ice at Great Glaciers National Park tomorrow. And you are …?”
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll get Toby Dawes. He’s the owner of Great Glaciers Dogsled Ranch. I only work here.”
The man turned his back and strode toward the large chalet-style home behind him, at the top of the driveway.
Not exactly the way to encourage tourists and dogsledding customers, Mariah thought.
But she was nevertheless intrigued by him. He was definitely photogenic. And he somehow seemed as wild as the animals she would feature in her article.
He’d said he worked here. Maybe she could hire him to take her onto the glaciers.
The house smelled of the pungency of last night’s pizza as well as the freshness of today’s dog food as Patrick Worley strode inside to get his supposed boss, Toby. Patrick was steaming. Not because of the warmer temperature in the residence, and not at the woman who’d suddenly shown up on the driveway. Well, not entirely at her.
He was mostly mad at himself for overreacting, and for showing his irritation. But having someone arrive unannounced, taking pictures—for a magazine article, yet—while he was on this top-secret assignment for Alpha Force … well, it had angered him.
Justifiably, sure. He definitely didn’t want anyone whose job involved curiosity—and photography—looking over his shoulder while he was going about the ordinary business of the job that was his cover.
Even someone—especially someone—as gorgeous and hot as that black-haired, curvaceous beauty, Mariah Garver. Her scent was spicy beneath her heavy clothing. Appealing, sure. But no one he needed to be near.
“Hey, Toby,” Patrick yelled from the doorway. “There’s a possible customer outside. She wants to talk to you.”
Hearing a soft mutter from the direction of the kitchen, he headed there. Toby was at the sink, pouring warm, filtered water into a bucket of the high-calorie working-dog chow he bought by huge bagfuls for his energetic huskies. “Tell whoever it is to wait a minute,” he said as Patrick walked in.
Toby Dawes was in his sixties, clearly fit and obstinately muscular. When he wasn’t working his sled dogs, he was working himself.
“No need. She won’t leave till she talks to you.” The sexy woman writer had struck Patrick immediately as being determined. Persistent. Most likely too curious for her own good—and his. “A magazine writer,” Patrick continued scornfully. “Taking pictures for a nature article she’s writing.”
That got Toby’s attention. “Interesting. We could get a lot of publicity from that.” He hefted the obviously heavy bucket and headed outside.
“Want me to carry that, boss?” Patrick asked.
He received a scornful glare. “I’ll carry it, but you come feed our teams while I talk to the lady.”
Patrick opened his mouth to object, then shut it again. He was here undercover, after all. Toby had no idea who and what he was. He had hired Patrick as a favor to a friend of his son Wes’s. Wes was former Special Ops and still had a lot of military contacts, but not even he knew the truth about Patrick or his assignment. Or about Alpha Force.
Toby put the bucket down on the counter just long enough to grab his gray parka from a hook on the wall and shrug it on. Then he motioned to Patrick to follow.
The woman—Mariah—was still taking pictures. She even aimed the camera in their direction as they approached down the driveway. Patrick resisted the urge to turn in the other direction.
There were worse things than having his picture taken at this moment.
She smiled as they got closer. “Mr. Dawes? I’m really glad to meet you.” She gave the same introduction as she had with Patrick.
“An article for Alaskan Nature? That’s one of my favorite ‘zines.” Toby’s grin lit his grizzled face as he put down the bucket he’d carried as easily as if it was filled with popcorn. “Patrick said you want to schedule a dogsled ride on the glaciers.”
“That’s right, tomorrow.”
“Damn. I’ve got a meeting in Nome I can’t miss, about the Iditarod. Catching a plane first thing in the morning, and won’t be back till after dark.” Which came earlier every day as the Alaskan winter approached.
Toby turned toward Patrick, who suddenly knew what was coming.
“How about Wes taking her?” Patrick asked. But he knew the answer. Wes was already scheduled to take a group of tourists out that day.
“Can’t. But you can. Great sledding skills,” he said, turning toward Mariah. “And practically a native.”
If someone who’d only been here a couple of weeks could be a native, Patrick thought scornfully. He’d been trained, sure. But Toby and Wes were the best mushers around, and he’d only taken a team out on his own once.
Yet his cover required that he go along with his employer, who obviously wanted Mariah Garver’s business. So, all he said was “Thanks, boss,” keeping any sarcasm out of his tone.
“Looks like you hired yourself a musher,” Toby said to Mariah, “long as you can meet the terms.” He spouted off the cost per hour and for the extras she could choose.
Mariah didn’t bat even one of those long, sexy eyelashes before saying, “That works for me.” And then she aimed a gaze at Patrick that made him stand up straighter. “If Patrick is okay with it.”
“Patrick is fine with it,” he growled, knowing that, despite any good sense he had, he meant it.
It would mean another visit to the glaciers. That was part of what he was here for. But he would not be in the form most likely to teach him anything.
And the wariness he would have to maintain, there on the ice with this woman, would intrude on the keen observation he was capable of, even without shifting.
But, hell. He wasn’t about to wait till then to visit the glaciers anyway … alone.
She had gotten her wish, Mariah thought as she drove the short distance toward the small town that was Tagoga. That hot guy—Patrick—was going to take her on her dogsled tour of the nearby glaciers.
Be careful what you wish for. The old saying flashed through her mind. Would it be a mistake to have Patrick as her tour guide? Patrick Worley—she had asked and been told his last name. She wasn’t certain why she was so concerned. Maybe because Patrick appeared less than thrilled with the assignment.
Well, she still had till tomorrow morning to change her mind.
But knew she wouldn’t.
Right now, it was time to return to her room at the bed-and-breakfast to get ready for the research outing scheduled for that afternoon—a boat ride into Tagoga Bay to observe and photograph Great Glaciers National Park from the water.
She smiled as she pulled into the parking lot behind her B and B.
She wouldn’t worry, for now, about her upcoming dogsled tour. At the moment, she was definitely looking forward to what she would experience later today.
Twilight on Kaley Glacier.
He had visited Great Glaciers National Park half a dozen times since coming to Alaska. So far, he had seen, heard, smelled nothing beyond the ordinary. The cold had a tight, biting scent. The few birds that flew quickly by overhead smelled comfortably warmer. The brine of the waters below was tangy, hinting of fish.
The frigid cold clutching the bareness of the toughened skin of his feet was almost unbearable. At least his thick pelt of fur kept the rest of him warm.
It was early nightfall, nearly, but not quite, dark. He would remain here, opening his senses further, waiting for anything to happen this evening. Another step in the decimation of Great Glaciers National Park?
Mounds of snow and crags of ice on this glacier provided little cover from the
whistling wind. He continued to patrol, watching, waiting.
And then—he inhaled deeply. The distant scent was suddenly hot. Fiery … here? Almost metallic, yet underlain with the ozone of melting ice.
The sound was odd, like the shrill, pulsing cries of orcas. Yet he scented no killer whales in the water below. Were some there nevertheless, trumpeting fear because they, too, smelled that odor? Knew what it meant? A sharp, abrupt explosive noise. And then—What was the low rumbling beneath the orcas’ calls? It grew louder. Sharp. Angry. A huge roar that made the ice tremble beneath his feet.
No! The surface wasn’t merely trembling. It was separating. The glacier was calving, right where he stood.
He pivoted, ran inland on all fours. Heard the cracking behind him. Felt the vibration of the surface below his paws. Would he be tossed into the frigid waters by separating ice?
An enormous splash resounded behind him. The movement lessened. He turned … and watched.
Most of the ice that was once behind him was gone. Warily, he approached the new craggy edge. He saw the separated mass slide beneath the gray-blue surface of the bay below, no longer part of the glacier but an ice floe.
He waited in wonder. This was what he was here to investigate, but he had no answers. If something beyond nature caused this, he still had no clue. Except, perhaps, what he had heard and smelled. But what did that mean?
He heard an engine. He looked into the sea beneath the reddening twilight sky and saw a boat approach. The new ice floe was invisible beneath the water, and would harm anything in its path as it surfaced. But though the boat was pitching, it did not appear to be in danger. Not that he could help them. He saw the new iceberg leap from the water, then settle back in the roiling bay.
Then he turned and paced the newly formed
edge of the glacier, a lone wolf prowling the ice.
And watching that boat.
In the orange glow reflected from the gleaming sunset, Mariah stared at the remainder of the glacier as the huge new iceberg erupted from the water and sank again. Quickly, she darted her eyes to her camera screen and back to the incredible sight.
With her other hand, she clutched the rail at the edge of the fishing boat’s deck. Never mind that the hood on her navy Windbreaker had blown off and left her hair flying in the rush of air caused by the boat’s heaving, her ears suddenly freezing. She had to watch. Record it all in movie mode. And keep from plunging overboard.
She’d thought, when she’d hired this fishing boat and its captain, that the craft was substantial enough to do well in all but the worst weather.
But the weather was fine. It was the water that heaved, tossing the boat as perilously as if it was a toy in a wading pool being slapped by a gleeful child.
No matter. Despite her shivering from uneasiness and cold, she had to record every moment. She’d be able to cull some still pictures when she was done, and upload them onto her computer. Use them for the article she was researching.
The ice floe settled into the water, calm now, as if it hadn’t just torn away from the mass above. Then, a few dead fish floated to the surface near the ice. Poor things, Mariah thought.
A short distance away, Mariah saw a pair of sea otters floating on top of the water, not in the path of the ice floe, fortunately. They didn’t appear particularly impressed by the calving as they swam slowly in circles. Mariah snapped some pictures for her article. The poor creatures appeared sluggish. Were they in shock? At least they were alive.
Mariah looked back at the jagged glacier surface—and thought she saw a movement at the top. An animal? Unlikely, but she aimed her camera in that direction.
Using the strongest telephoto setting, she saw clearly in the camera screen that it was a wolf, its deep gray coat silhouetted against the whiteness of the glacial surface. It was pacing uneasily. Majestic. Gorgeous. She filmed it despite knowing that the creature was too far away to obtain a really good photo. Was it looking at the boat? Her?
What an odd impression!
Maybe she would see the wolf again, closer, when she took her dogsled ride onto the glaciers with Patrick Worley.
Patrick. His face suddenly filled her mind, as if he were somewhere around here.
She almost laughed out loud at the ridiculous turns her imagination had taken.
“Getting what you need?” Nathan Kugan’s voice startled her.
The captain had come from the bridge of his boat to join her on deck. Half a foot taller than her five-two, he was a local, of Aleutian descent, and the crispness of the fall air whipping across the deck apparently didn’t bother him. He wore only a light sweater over his jeans and boots.
“I think so,” Mariah said, glad for the interruption to her absurd thoughts. She lowered her camera at his approach. “I’m recording what’s happening, at least. Now I need to look more into what’s causing it.”
“Did you get the whales?”
She frowned. “I haven’t seen any whales. The only living sea animals I glimpsed were those otters.” She pointed.
His turn to frown, deepening the creases in his weathered face. Mariah had guessed him to be mid-fifties, but he looked ageless and could have been a lot older. “I had my acoustical equipment turned on—sonar, and the microphones I use to listen for fish. Before the noise from the glacier calving, I heard what sounded like orca calls. You didn’t see any?”
Odd term, calving. She knew it, of course, since she had lived in Alaska for three years now, but she would have to explain it in her article for nonlocal readers. It described the tearing away of huge chunks of ice from the edges of glaciers nearest the water. As if the ice fields were happily producing bouncing, enormous babies which, if large enough, were icebergs.
“No. I wish I had.” She took her camera and panned the bay, still using her telephoto setting in case something appeared in the distance. The sun had slid beneath the horizon, and the remaining light of day was following in its wake. Even in the growing darkness, the black-and-white irregular stripes found on killer whales would still be visible, giving away their location.
But she saw no orcas anywhere. Nathan squinted and looked at the darkening water. “Strange. They sounded close. Should be surfacing by now to breathe.”
“Maybe they were heading out the mouth of the bay,” Mariah suggested.
“Could be. They’re smart animals. They might have sensed the calving would occur and warned one another to leave.”
