Undercover Protector. Elizabeth Goddard
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her solid but small form, he reached the road she’d been driving on when she’d hit the mud. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying that must have been. She was in her twenties, he’d guess, a few years younger than his thirty-two years. Was she a volunteer who he would work with? He’d have to explain what he’d been doing out here. But first they had to get somewhere safe and dry.
He hadn’t made it twenty yards when the rain slowed.
“You can put me down now.”
“You sure?”
She nodded. “I appreciate the help, but I can manage from here.”
He set her on the still-slick road and put his hand out, ready to catch her if necessary. “Careful now.”
Pushing her wet strands out of the way, she looked up at him, studying his face with her bright hazel eyes. Raindrops slid over her forehead and over her cheeks, revealing a pretty, natural face with a few freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her dark hair hung long down her back and was so waterlogged that he couldn’t tell for sure what color it was, but he was almost certain it was dark brown to match her perfectly shaped eyebrows.
He glanced up at the ashen sky and received droplets in his eyes. He wiped them out and then looked at the woman. “I suppose I should introduce myself. It’s not every day I carry a woman down the mountain.”
“I’m walking down the mountain,” she corrected. “But I’m sure it’s not every day you have to pull a woman trapped in a mud-strapped, tree-slammed Jeep.”
“You got that right.”
“Well, what’s your name, stranger?”
“Grayson Wilson. But you can call me Gray.” Though working undercover, he’d keep his first name. Easy enough to answer to that. Wilde would be off the books.
“I’m Gemma Rollins. I run Tiger Mountain, the sanctuary on the other side of this road. You might have noticed it since you were out wandering the area.” Her tone sounded suspicious.
Gemma Rollins. Tiger Mountain’s founder.
So much for his surveillance efforts. He should have known, though she looked nothing like the pictures, where she always had on sunglasses. Her eyes would have been a dead giveaway.
She shifted her focus to the road and then turned to him. “Well, are you coming? I want to get someplace dry.”
“And then you’ll call the sheriff, right?” The county maintained the mountain road, and she might want the report for her insurance.
Calling the sheriff was the right move for her, so Gray ignored the twinge he felt at the thought. Gray hadn’t wanted to run into the man so soon on this operation, but Sheriff Kruse would likely send a deputy out instead and, in that case, Gray could keep his cover unless it was Deputy Callahan. In theory, it would be safe enough to read in the local cops on his investigation...but in practice, it was a whole different story. Sometimes, even law enforcement could be involved in trafficking.
“Yes. We need to let the county know about the mud and trees on the road.”
She continued to favor her right leg over her left.
Gray asked, “Are you sure you’re not hurt? You’re limping.”
Gemma stopped and turned to look at him, staring at him with her determined and enormous, crystal-clear hazel eyes. Why hadn’t he known about the eyes beforehand?
Like that would have kept them from affecting him now. He didn’t want to stop looking at them.
“I was injured years ago. Nerve damage. My limp is part of me now. If you had let me grab my cane out of the Jeep, I’d be using that to walk.”
Gray was embarrassed. Why hadn’t he noticed a cane in the few pictures he’d seen? “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” He almost offered to assist her in walking, but the set of her jaw told him that would be the wrong thing to do.
“It’s okay. I understand. You were being a hero, and you couldn’t have known you were rescuing a debilitated damsel. Honestly, I didn’t expect anyone to hear my cries for help, much less a stranger to arrive to whisk me out of the Jeep. Thank you for that.” Her soft smile wiped away the furrow in her brow but not the anguish—the deep-seated agony—behind her eyes.
Gray had come here to bring this woman down if she was involved in the trafficking ring—and especially if she was involved, even indirectly, in Bill’s death. It seemed more than likely that she was part of the trafficking ring as founder of the sanctuary that was somehow connected.
How could she not be aware of the trafficking going on right under her nose? But looking at her now, Gray doubted his certainty. He could clearly see there was so much more going on in that head of hers. Finding answers would not be as easy as he’d hoped.
Especially when his natural drive to protect the innocent ignited for Gemma. Because if she wasn’t involved in the ring, then she could be in danger.
All he knew was that he had a feeling Gemma Rollins had just reversed their roles and she was about to make trouble for Gray. Either that or he had just made a world of trouble for himself in coming here.
Gemma kept up the warm and friendly banter while she shared the mountain road with Gray. She appreciated his assistance out of the CJ. She could have died without Gray’s help.
But she kept the conversation superficial. Gray was still a stranger and she didn’t know what he could have been doing on the mountain or on the road during this storm. She had even more reason to be wary given the saboteurs who had caused her too many problems already in the form of vandalism to the property. They hoped to sabotage her efforts to provide a reputable sanctuary for tigers. Could Gray be connected to them? It was certainly possible.
Pain throbbed up her leg, pain that seemed to ignite in full force when she was stressed in any way. And with all the stress in her life lately, that meant a lot of over-the-counter painkillers. She’d managed so far without prescription painkillers and wouldn’t start now, if she could help it.
She must have flinched because she saw him eyeing her with concern. “So what happened back there, anyway?” he asked. “You come around that curve too fast? Or was it the muddy deluge in the road that took you out?”
Gemma scoffed. “Let’s just say it was the perfect storm. My steering went out and the brakes couldn’t handle the slope.” She didn’t want to go on, fearing he might berate her for her lack of vehicle maintenance. She tried to ignore that gnawing in the back of her mind that it was something more threatening.
His demeanor changed—a subtle shift, but it was there.
Gemma shouldn’t have revealed so much. “I know, I know. Vintage doesn’t have to be unsafe.”
He cracked a grin.
Gray might be a stranger on this mountain, but he elicited a smile from her in return. She glanced at him. Covered in mud, he was kind of scruffy-looking, his hair hanging to his shoulders and making him resemble a character in an epic fantasy movie. He’d been there, right when she’d needed him. But...she was itching to ask what he’d been doing on the road.
Gemma wished she wasn’t a conspiracy theorist. Hoped that she was being entirely too suspicions, but she’d been through so much already. And where was this guy’s vehicle? Either something didn’t add up or Gemma didn’t have all the information necessary to fill in the equation. She suspected the first but hoped for the latter.
A vicious cramp shot pain up her leg and Gemma slipped and fell, letting out a yelp.
Humiliation scoured her. If not for her limp, she wouldn’t have gone down. Pebbles and rocks bit into her backside, adding to the mud already there.
Gray