AlphaMountie
Alpha Mountie
Lena Loneson
When her sister’s body washes up on the shore in Toronto, Noire Pelletier is devastated. She’ll do whatever it takes to find her sister’s killer. Not even the gorgeous Mountie assigned to the case will distract her—for long.
Constable Cam Dawson comes to the city seeking a serial killer, but finds a lot more—a beguiling park ranger who tastes like the wild that runs through his blood. Has he finally met the woman strong enough to embrace his lupine side?
The hunt for a killer leads Noire and Cam on a dangerous and passion-fueled journey deep into the wilderness, where they discover an evil much greater than a simple man. To make it out alive, Noire will have to trust in something stronger than vengeance—love.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Alpha Mountie
ISBN 9781419939129
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Alpha Mountie Copyright © 2012 Lena Loneson
Edited by April Chapman
Cover design by Kendra Egert
Photography by MarishsaSha/Shutterstock.com and Fotolia
Electronic book publication March 2012
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Alpha Mountie
Lena Loneson
Chapter One
When Noire Pelletier finally stepped off the Toronto docks and onto the Ward’s Island ferry, she wasn’t thinking about who she might meet there. She wasn’t thinking about her sister’s murder. She definitely wasn’t thinking about her love life. All that filled her mind was relief.
Noire pressed through the crowd, inhaling the cool Lake Ontario air and exhaling her memories of the city. Bye for now, Toronto—can’t say I’ll miss you.
For a park warden like Noire, who spent most of her days in the quiet of the Algonquin forests hours north of the city, the din of Toronto was always a shock. People were friendly, sure, but there were just too damn many of them. Her senses had been completely overwhelmed by mingling odors of sweat and cologne, blaring car horns and building lights blinding her from all sides like a swarm of crazed fireflies.
The sweetness of the lake filled her lungs now, moist and cool. She took the ferry steps two at a time, heading for the second level. The railing was cold beneath her hand. As her feet slipped on steps slick with water, she gripped the rail tighter, letting the discomfort wake her up. The perilous trek had been worth it—the second level was deserted.
Below milled dozens of men, women and children on foot or riding bikes onto the boat, some pulling large carts of groceries and supplies. Noire loved the Toronto Islands, of which Ward’s was only one. She planned to enjoy the ride, even though she knew what waited for her at the end. For the moment, she could pretend she was one of these people—those who had chosen to work in Toronto, but also to remain outsiders living in a car-free community isolated from the hullabaloo by kilometers of icy water.
With a jerk and humming of the engines, the ferry began to move. The late November wind made Noire feel a little silly for wearing only jeans and a sweater. When the call had come from the police department, she’d dropped everything.
“Ms. Pelletier? We’d like you to look at another body if you’re still in the city. Glad to hear it. This one has animal bites, like the previous, but…well, you’d better get out here and see. The crime scene technicians have started work already so if you can catch the next ferry out to Ward’s Island—yeah, it’s an island killing again—the body will still be there…”
The body. So dehumanizing—but tonight, she was glad of it. This time, the body would be no one she knew.
As a park warden, Noire was often asked to look after bodies found in her own territory. Her background in working with wild animals meant she could identify most bites and help track the “killer” animal to its den. Within Algonquin Provincial Park, her rank as a warden gave her authority equal to the Ontario Provincial Police. But outside of the park, she was a civilian, and her particular brand of forensics rarely had a place in the city. Originally, she had been called down not as a warden, but as a sister.
Tears teased at the corners of her eyes and Noire knew that no matter what she told herself, this night would break her heart into a thousand pieces.
For days, Noire had been trying to get inside her sister’s head. To feel what Fawn had felt in the city. The excitement of conversation all around her, the twinge of hunger at the smell of exotic food. The urge to dance rather than flee at thumping bass from clubs on King West. The small twinkle of envy when she heard the heels of stylish women clacking on Bay Street sidewalks as they hurried to their six-figure jobs and their seven-figure condos.
When Fawn’s wide brown eyes had looked out at the crowds, she had seen possibility. But to Noire, the skyscrapers were metal bars in a cage that grew smaller each day. Years ago when the girls were roommates attending the University of Toronto, Noire had yearned to ask her sister, “What is the city like for you? Why are you so happy here, when every morning I have to hold myself to the bed so I don’t run screaming back to the forest? What do you see here that I can’t see?”
But as the older, smarter sister, Noire couldn’t bring herself to admit such weakness, and so she never asked.
And now Fawn was dead.
Noire leaned over the ferry railing. Sharp pains pricked along her hairline as her braid whipped out behind her in the wind, and cold dots hit her face from the first hint of rain or snow. She found it completely refreshing and leaned farther.
Squinting into the dark water below, Noire nearly screamed when something warm touched her back.
She spun around, knocking away a man’s outstretched hand and moving into a defensive posture. The shadow towering over her—how tall was this guy?—raised its hands in surrender.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, an awkward grin on his face. “Just surprised to see someone in my usual, uh, spot.”
Noire frowned. For a moment there, she’d been sure he was about to say territory. Maybe she was feeling territorial herself—she’d planned to be alone up here. From the look on his face, her new companion needed the escape too. She read tension in the creases around his gray eyes. At a loud shout from below he jumped like a skittish stray dog.
It was then that she noticed his uniform. He was wearing duty blues rather than the m
ore formal dress reds from tourism brochures, but the guy was clearly RCMP. There’s a good chance he’s off to Ward’s for the same reason I am.
“No problem, officer,” she choked out. Had they really called in the Mounties? Something bigger than she’d realized must be going on.
“Constable,” he said with that never-ending smile. “There’s no trouble or anything, miss, I just came out here for some air. Wanted to ask you if I might share the railing?”
“Be my guest,” she said.
Noire saw the steel in his eyes as he smiled at her—the smile was real, warming something deep and half-asleep inside her, but it couldn’t hide why he was here. To examine the body, one bearing animal bite marks just like Fawn’s.
Noire had seen corpses before on the job, usually hunting or hiking accidents and the occasional animal attack. But tonight’s body, like Fawn’s, was not the result of an accident. Tonight would be different.
Might not hurt to gain a friend on the force while I’m in town.
Not to mention the way he filled out that uniform…broad shoulders and muscular arms couldn’t hide in a gray shirt and dark blue tie. His trousers with gold piping were tucked neatly into his boots and he wore a navy patrol jacket tied around his waist.
“Aren’t you freezing?” she asked without thinking. She had meant to introduce herself. But the words I’m here to look at a corpse—good thing it’s not my baby sister this time just wouldn’t come out.
“Nah,” he said. “You want the jacket?”
“I’m okay.” Noire was shaking with the cold, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t noticeable.
“You’re shivering. Don’t be stupid.”
Noire raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry. Guess you have a right to be cold if you want.” He ran a hand through close-cropped hair that seemed to blur into the night sky. Noire wondered if his sheer size generated more heat. She was tall at five-foot-ten, big-boned and muscular enough to give her more in common with a man’s body than a woman’s—at least, that’s how it seemed when she tried to buy clothes. But this guy towered over her.
Noire realized she wasn’t the only one staring. She rubbed at her eyes, faking an itch to block his gaze. His own face was uncommonly beautiful, with a deep scar down his cheek only adding a sense of mystery. She felt plain and uninteresting in comparison.
“I just need a little break from the crowd,” he said. “People everywhere, make me want to take my chances with the lake. Constable Campbell Dawson. Royal Canadian Mounted Police.”
“Nice to meet you, Constable.” Reflexively, Noire held out her hand. It reddened in the wind and she wished she’d brought gloves. Constable Dawson stared at her hand for a moment as though he’d forgotten what it was for. Then he took her hand in his, and his skin warmed her whole body. Noire relaxed her posture and saw Dawson do the same, as if the world had been taken off their shoulders for one unexpected moment. She finally returned his smile with a small one of her own and reluctantly released his hand—it was warm in her own, almost feverishly so.
She was torn. She could introduce herself now and make a good first impression, explain she was consulting with the police and show him her toughness in enduring the weather. Wasn’t that what cops listened to? Dominance? Would he take her seriously if he knew she’d been so rattled by the case she’d forgotten her jacket? Probably not. Noire knew dominant men, and often the best way to gain their respect was to come out swinging, right off, and never, ever show weakness.
On the other hand, his gray eyes had warmed and his smile was friendly and hopeful. It was nice, having a man this handsome look at her that way. While he had come up here to escape the people below, he didn’t seem to be going anywhere now. Maybe she could enjoy his company for the short ride and pretend they were simply two people meeting by chance. She smiled back, less tentatively this time.
“Okay, you’re right,” she said. “I’m freezing. I don’t know what I was thinking—forgot how cold it could get out on the water compared to downtown. I’ve had…a bad week.” Now that was an understatement.
“I’m sorry. Mine too,” he said quietly. She leaned in to hear him over the rushing wind, and the heat emanating from his body was palpable. “On a hell of a case. Heartbreaking, really.”
Heartbreaking. So he understood. Even if he’d never met Fawn, Noire felt almost pleased to know someone on the case genuinely cared. She was surprised, actually, at just how much that pleased her. The cops she’d dealt with so far had seemed downright unemotional. Fuck dominance, she thought to herself. He’d shown some vulnerability, so she could bare her neck right back.
“Is the offer still open?” she asked. “I could use that jacket now.”
“Of course.”
After she nodded permission, he draped the jacket around her shoulders. He left one hand on her back and she felt the heat of it through the layers of clothing.
“You could move downstairs if you’re still cold. I think it’s only going to get worse up here.” He pointed. The precipitation from over the water was turning to snow. It pelted their faces as they turned in unison to look out over the water. Faint lights from the islands glowed in the distance, moving slowly closer.
“It’s beautiful,” Noire realized aloud. “I can’t leave.”
“Yes,” he said. “Then I’ll stay with you. Though I’m afraid I don’t have any more clothes to loan you, or I’ll be the one freezing in uncomfortable places.”
She shivered again, rubbing her hands. “No gloves, eh?”
He shook his head with a small smile. “Sorry.” Then he took her hands in his again, rubbing them with his own to warm them. Before she realized what he was doing, he raised them to his mouth and blew. His breath was hot, feverish and strangely soothing.
She met his eyes in surprise and he held them with his own. She felt safe, suddenly. She knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t hurt her. Her face was flushed and she knew that their contact had affected him as much as her. She watched him closely and saw his nostrils flare—was he smelling her?
She wondered if he could smell the wetness that had formed between her legs. Did she want the answer to be no, or yes? Noire wasn’t sure. It had been a long time since she’d felt physically drawn to a man. The combination of strength in his broad shoulders and wariness in his eyes made her want to trust him and press her body against his, drink in his smell, let him take away her pain for a moment. If only she had the first clue about seduction. If only her sister were here—Fawn had always been better with men. If only.
More excuses, Noire?
He was still holding her hands to his mouth. His breath had quickened and each time he exhaled against her fingers, his heat rushed against her skin in time with her own breaths.
She pulled her hands back away from his mouth, rubbing them together to preserve the warmth. In the gray depths of his eyes, she saw a flicker of disappointment. Disappointment that she’d pulled away? Yes.
Yes. That was all the confirmation she needed. Noire leaned forward and touched her lips to his, her inhibitions melting away.
The Mountie’s mouth was just as hot as his hands, and he eagerly took control of the kiss. Noire moaned deep in her throat as she parted her lips to welcome his tongue inside. She expected him to take the time to tease her gently, as most men did, but his tongue plundered her mouth. He was rough, aggressive, and she felt herself responding in kind.
She ran fingers voraciously through his close-cropped hair, stepping on tiptoes to press her own tongue into his mouth. It was very rare that Noire had to reach upward to kiss a man and she liked it. Their tongues twisted together and she closed her eyes, tasting him—he reminded her of finely crafted Muskoka ale, a rich nuttiness that made her want so much more.
Noire had a brief moment of nervousness—since when did she move this quickly? Hell, the last time she’d fucked a man was over a year ago. Most men were intimidated by her size, and even heavily muscled hunters ran once they saw her out
perform them with a shotgun.
She wondered if Constable Dawson was carrying a firearm, and if so where he kept it. The thought intrigued her and she forgot her former trepidation. Noire pressed her body against his, molding her hips into him. Instead of a gun, she felt the hardness of his cock against her stomach. He grabbed her ass in his strong hands and lifted her until her clit rubbed right against him. She could come right now, just from the friction.
Apparently he felt the same way, because she felt his fingers at the button of her jeans. She murmured into his mouth, “Someone could come up here any minute—”
He chuckled against her lips. “Well, then, we’ll have to keep it subtle. And fast.”
Noire had never been so turned on by the word fast before. But that’s what she wanted. Fast.
His fingers popped open the button to her jeans and he spun her around as he pulled at the zipper, so that she faced the ferry railing. For a moment she was dizzy, looking down at the cold water below. The wind whipped through her hair and she shivered. Then his warm body was pressed firmly against her back, his cock grinding into her ass. He gripped her breasts through the cable-knit sweater and skimmed his fingers across her nipples. She could hear the wind howling, his breathing fast and excited in her ear, and the chatting of dozens of people on the decks below who had no idea what was going on less than fifteen feet above them.
When he removed his hands from her breasts, she opened her mouth to object—but then he moved them lower. One arm grasping around her waist, his other hand slid into her jeans, over her panties. As he teased her clit through the cotton fabric with his fingers, Noire wished she’d worn something a little sexier.
And then his finger moved lower, pressing the panties inside her, rubbing against the slick wetness of her cunt, and she forgot how to think, let alone worry about her lingerie. A second finger joined the first and he filled her up completely, stretching the fabric deep inside. Her jeans hung precariously on her hips. Her hands gripped the ferry railing, the cold metal contrasting starkly against the heat of his hips still pressed firmly against her ass. As he stroked her with his fingers, she leaned back into him, centering herself against him. He murmured wordlessly in her ear, a heady mixture of panting and something more wild, akin to a growl. She felt as if she could fall or fly, tumbling over the railing to the deck below, or soaring out into the deep, churning waters. She shivered, enjoying the combination of pleasure and danger.