Loyal Wolf. Linda O. Johnston

of her breathing and what was around her, she smelled the sweet combo of aromas of whatever had been used to clean this space for the next occupants.

      But she quickly threw all of that out of her consciousness. She had to focus on what she was doing.

      At the same time as she had grabbed Jock, she’d twisted her body, her legs around his, to trip him and take him down.

      It was like trying to pull down a sturdy steel pipe.

      “Hey!” he yelled, but he didn’t fall. That was okay. She’d conducted a lot of hand-to-hand combat training with men as well as women, and some were not only muscular but big-bellied, too, unlike Jock. She’d always managed to defeat even them.

      She knew her best moves.

      She turned and rose at once, putting herself out of Jock’s arms’ reach temporarily. Or so she thought.

      One of his hands was suddenly on her middle, the other grasping for her neck. Was he going to strangle her? Maybe the military was trained to do their worst, act harshly as if prepared to kill even its own, presuming that the other guy was as well trained and could get out of it.

      Well, she could, too.

      “No!” she yelled, another kind of distraction as she twisted away from him, then quickly turned and attempted to swing her arm and aim at his face while her leg again moved around his.

      This time, he apparently let her. No resistance. At first. But before she could trip him, he moved once more and had one of his arms about her chest while the other moved farther below.

      Interesting, to have him touching her there. All over. Apparently, he thought so, too, since she heard a whoosh from him that sounded like what she had heard sometimes in her training sessions with men—surprise, maybe. And interest.

      His hand on her breasts moved. Squeezing just a little. Damn, but it felt good. She couldn’t allow it to distract her, though—even if it distracted him.

      She pretended to start going limp, then straightened, leaped back and turned, facing him again.

      And noticing the thick bulge in his jeans as he, too, faced her once more, bent slightly forward, his arms at his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists.

      This was definitely more heated, in many ways, than the hug they had previously shared.

      Why did that position look so sexy? Or was it just her touching him—and seeing how his body appeared to be reacting?

      “Enough?” he asked. He was breathing hard, even though what they’d done so far wasn’t especially active.

      “Not unless you give in and agree I’m part of your team.”

      She anticipated his rush forward. She turned sideways to make it harder for him to grab her in crucially vulnerable spots to bring her down.

      That ended with her hip pressed right against that bulge she had noticed before. She drew in her breath.

      Lord, how she wanted him just then. Which was crazy. She didn’t know him. And she needed him to do a job here that could protect her friends, her fellow Clifford County residents and maybe even more citizens of the United States.

      Would her seducing Jock cause him to do a better job? Hardly.

      Even if it did, that didn’t mean he would let her help.

      And she was going to help, no matter what he thought.

      “Okay, then, yes,” he said. “You’re part of the team.” Was it over that quickly? “The part of it that I say you are. And that means staying out of danger.” As if he believed he had distracted her, he rushed forward, upper part of his body bent, and attempted to tackle her.

      She quickly moved away, grabbing at his head and smelling his musky scent as she let herself fall, pulling him down with her.

      Amazingly, he fell, too. Onto the floor. Beside where she now knelt. She flipped over, heaving her entire being on top of him. Using every ounce of her weight to press him down.

      Feeling his thick muscles everywhere tense beneath her. His chest. His legs.

      And the protrusion at his core that thrust up at her as she refused to move.

      “You’re busted!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “I win. I’m a part of your team—the way I say I am.”

      He didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Not for several heartbeats—and she believed hers was somehow synced with his.

      His hips moved, and his erection was thrust up against her gut, making her own insides heat and churn and ache with a desire that would not, could not, be fulfilled. Not now or ever. Not with this man.

      She continued to watch his face, which, as handsome as it was, somehow remained blank, as if all thoughts, all emotions, all desires, had been erased from within him by her victory.

      Even if he rocked her off him now, she still had won, so his pretending to ignore her wouldn’t work. Or at least it wouldn’t gain him a win over her.

      And then a horrible thought struck her. “Did you let me win, Larabey?” she demanded. Well, even if he had, she was still on top—in more ways than one.

      She couldn’t quite read the expression that passed quickly over his face before disappearing. Smugness? Anger?

      “You think I want you to join us in danger? Forget it.” The movement of his chest as he spoke bumped against her, causing her breasts to tense along his muscular body. Oh, that heat within her. She’d better get off. Quickly.

      “You don’t need to worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

      “So I’ve just learned.” She appreciated the irony in his tone. “In this kind of situation. But even so, Kathlene, you have to realize that what we’re likely to be up against, if you’re right about those guys being anarchists, is—”

      She had to shut him up. She bent her head forward—and covered those still-moving lips of his with her own.

      He responded. Oh, did he ever. His voice stopped immediately, but the movement of his lips didn’t. He fastened them on her as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, hot and moving as enticingly as his body below suggested by its pressure against her, imitating the dance of sensuality that she had already imagined going on between them.

      “Kathlene,” he murmured against her. She responded by drawing his tongue even farther into her mouth, teasing it with hers as suggestively as he played with her.

      She couldn’t think. Couldn’t react with the sanity of a deputy sheriff in danger. For this was danger, maybe even a kind Jock had been warning her about.

      Danger that would be magnified by her joining his team. Working with him. Seeing him often while he was here, till they had accomplished—

      “Hell.” A familiar male voice from the doorway interrupted her thoughts that were already disjointed, thanks to Jock’s continuing to drive her nuts with the movement of his body. She turned her head to see Ralf standing there. He’d come back. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything like...I’ll go take another walk.”

      Jock’s body heaved slightly from beneath her. He grabbed her with his hands and lowered her gently to the floor as he stood. “Not what it looks like,” he told his fellow Alpha Force member. “We were just demonstrating some fighting moves we’d each learned.”

      “Right,” Ralf said. His deep complexion had grown ruddy with embarrassment.

      “It’s true.” Jock was standing now. He bent to offer his hand to help her to her feet.

      She accepted, still looking at the floor. Kathlene didn’t dare glance toward Ralf. Not just yet.

      “Kathlene and I have reached an agreement of sorts,” Jock said. “She wants to work with us. Be part of our team as we investigate those potential anarchists.