High Ground (High Mountain Trackers Book 3) Read online

  Two possible incidents this close to each other in time and proximity is a bit much to be chalking up to coincidence.

  Which is why the sheriff and game warden are pulling out all the stops to investigate both bodies. Notable is that in both cases no shooting incident was ever reported and neither victim had any weapons or identifying papers on them when we found them.

  All this to imply foul play is suspected.

  “Carl has his hands full,” Bo comments as we watch them load Harper’s body in the back of the van.

  Carl Pearson is not only the Lincoln County coroner, but also funeral director at Pearson Funeral Home in Libby.

  He’s not kidding. For a small town and rather thinly populated county of only about twenty thousand, we’ve seen our share of death this past week. First there was last week’s unexpected snowfall causing that nasty pileup out toward Troy, killing a local family of three. Now Carl has these two bodies to take care of.

  “Rather him than me,” I admit.

  Wouldn’t be my thing, carving up dead bodies. I’ve seen enough death and destruction to last me a lifetime or two. I know finding those poor guys yesterday and today is gonna get to me at some point. Probably during the night, while I’m sleeping and my guard is down.

  “Let’s head out, boys. Our job is done.”

  Jonas comes walking toward us. He’d been talking with Sheriff Ewing and Woody Moses—the local game warden—while Bo and I were loading up the horses and Hazel. With the body taken care of and the scene left in the hands of authorities, there is no reason for us to stick around.

  I get behind the wheel of the ranch truck, a heavy-duty Ford F-350 which has served us well for as long as I can remember, but the engine has been acting up a little recently. Bo climbs in the back as Jonas gets in beside me, and immediately radios Ama to let her know we’re on our way back.

  The knocking sound starts up as I pass through Libby.

  “We need that damn engine looked at,” Jonas grumbles beside me.

  “Three week waiting time with Jackson’s automotive, unless you want to get it in somewhere in Kalispell,” I suggest.

  “Or…” Bo pipes up in the back seat. “You can ask Pippa to have a look. She got Lucy’s old clunker going again. But it’ll have to be off the books, she doesn’t have her work visa yet.”

  How much of an asshole am I that part of me hopes she doesn’t get it and has to head back to Canada?

  A big one, I know.

  “Should’a thought of that myself,” Jonas mumbles. “Plenty of work on the ranch vehicles to get her started.”

  Shit, I know she bought Standish Automotive and hopes to breathe some life into that place once her visa comes through, and it’s not that I don’t wish her well, but does she have to be in my fucking backyard? It’s hard enough now, trying to avoid her, but it’ll be impossible once she sets up shop. I already know the guys will take their business to her and I’ll just look like a fucking tool if I don’t.

  What a mess. One of my own creation, if I’m honest.

  Granted, she seemed as into it as I was, but it definitely was me who was feeling pretty good and laid a wet one on her. It was New Year’s Eve, we’d celebrated Fletch and Nella’s wedding, and alcohol may have been involved. One thing led to another and when I woke up in the early hours of January first to the soft snoring of the pretty brunette, I knew I’d made a disastrous mistake.

  I’d been fighting my attraction to her almost from the moment I first laid eyes on the near skeletal woman back in early fall. I’m not usually attracted to skinny women, I prefer something I can hold on to, but one look at that face with those big brown eyes and my ass was toast.

  She’d been traumatized though. Gone through the wringer and then some. Huge chunks of her memory were gone and no one comes back from an experience like that unscathed. It was clear she’d need stability, which is something I don’t have in me to give.

  So, I decided I’d keep my distance, which worked fine, since she went off in her motorhome and I didn’t see her again until right before the wedding. She’d put some weight back on, looked fucking fantastic, and I felt even more drawn to her. Then I let it get away from me.

  For a handful of hours, I lost my head and indulged in something I knew I should’ve steered clear of. Not only for her sake, but my own too. So, when she caught me sneaking out the door at three in the morning, I was on the defensive and acted like an ass.

  In hindsight, that worked for me, since Pippa seemed as eager to avoid me as the other way around, but it makes any run-ins with her uncomfortable. Like yesterday. I couldn’t stop myself from feeling instantly protective of her.

  Fuck, if she’s going to be working on the ranch’s fleet, I’ll be seeing a lot more of her.

  I’m going to need to steel myself.

  Pippa

  “This is a fucking joke, right?”

  My heart is beating in my throat as I feel the blood drain from my face.

  This was supposed to be a simple six-month follow-up appointment with Dr. Osborne. I wasn’t expecting to get this news.

  “Sorry, no. Not a joke. I can refer you to an—”

  I cut him off when I lift my hands, palms out, silently imploring him to stop. I can’t hear this now.

  I need to get out of here for some fresh air and time to process.

  “Call me when you’re ready to talk,” he calls after me as I dart out of his office.

  An older couple jumps back when I come barreling out of the clinic, almost knocking them over, and tears blind me as I try to locate my wheels in the parking lot.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  I wave off the Good Samaritan calling after me and scramble up in the cab of the old Chevy truck I picked up last November. That was when I still thought I could build a new life here. Now I don’t know what kind of life is even possible.

  This is a fucking nightmare.

  My instinct is to go seek out my sister but I don’t want to upset her, she’s seven and a half months pregnant.

  I mop my face with my sleeve before starting the truck. Then I head for Hart’s Horse Rescue where I’ve been renting a room from Lucy Lenoir.

  “Christ. I hope to hell it’s not contagious,” she comments dryly twenty minutes later, after I spilled my guts to her.

  We’re sitting at the kitchen table at the rescue, Lucy’s dogs, Chief and Scout, at our feet. I’m sipping a glass of water because I’m too nauseated to dare attempt anything else.

  “Pregnancy doesn’t spread, to my knowledge.”

  She leans forward on her elbows, regarding me closely.

  “Didn’t even know you were seeing someone,” she points out.

  Shit.

  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised paternity is a question that would come up, but there is no way in hell I’m ready to share that. I may know there is only one possible answer, but no one else needs to. That’s information I’d prefer to keep to myself, at least until I can wrap my head around getting knocked up.

  “I’m not.”

  Lucy starts to chuckle. “You saw someone at some point, that’s for sure.”

  New Year’s Eve to be exact, but I keep that to myself as well.

  “You didn’t miss a period or anything?” she continues.

  “Haven’t had one since September. I was told it’s not unusual to skip your periods for months at a time as a result of starvation. I never considered it. I mean, I put on weight, but I figured I was just gaining it back.”

  I’d lost a fair amount of weight after I went missing last fall, and it took me a while before I was able to eat a regular meal again. I ended up with ulcers that still give me trouble occasionally, so getting back anywhere near my original weight is taking time.

  In fact, even now I’m still about fifteen pounds from where I’m supposed to be.

  I catch Lucy’s eyes as they drift down to my stomach where, at some point, my hands seem to have come to rest. Nothing more than a little swell, I easily overlooked before, feels like a substantial bump in my palms now.

  A baby.

  Oh boy, I can’t do this right now.

  Abruptly I get to my feet.

  “Keep it to yourself,” I snap unreasonably.

  “I realize you haven’t known me that long, but talking is really not my thing.”

  She gets up as well and I instantly feel bad.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Lucy beams a bright smile my way.

  “Oh, honey. Don’t apologize. If the roles were reversed, I’d be throwing china at the walls.”

  Then she walks out of the kitchen and I’m contemplating grabbing a couple of plates, when my phone rings. I startle when I recognize the ranch number. I’m tempted to ignore it but curiosity has me take the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Pippa, it’s Jonas Harvey at High Meadow. I have a proposal for you.”

  Nothing like a little engine grease under my fingernails and a well-built, six-liter V-8, turbo-diesel engine under my hands to distract me.

  “There’s a few possibilities. Could be this after-market air filter, an exhaust leak, maybe a dirty injector. Could be resolved by a decent tune-up, but it’s also possible the torque converter access plug got dislodged, in which case I’d have to drop the transmission to get at it. Best thing to do is get it into the shop so I can do a proper diagnostic on it.”

  Technically I’m not supposed to be working, but Jonas’s proposal might make it a concern that no longer applies to me. He’s offered to use his connections to fast-track my visa if I would take on the ranch vehicles and equipment and keep his engines running.

  It wasn’t a hard decision. Jonas laughed at my hearty, “Hell, yes.”

  My first customer.

 
I force every other thought to the back of my mind and focus on that—my first customer.

  “Shit, now that’s sexy; a woman who knows her engines.”

  I hide my grin at Bo’s deep baritone by ducking my head a little lower. I know what he’s doing. I’ve seen him in action with my sister and also Alex. He’s trying to get a rise out of his buddies, one of whom I’ve been ignoring since I got here.

  “Fuck off, Rivera,” I hear Sully grumble.

  Yup, I called it.

  Interesting thing about Bo though, he’s one of those natural charmers who can’t help but flirt with the ladies. The only exception is Lucy, he barely cracks a smile around her.

  “All right, kids,” Jonas intervenes before turning his attention on me. “When can you work on it, Pippa?”

  I back out from under the hood and step down from the inverted crate I carry in the back of my pickup. At five four, it’s the only way I can get to the engine.

  “If you can get it to the shop, I can start on it right away.”

  The auto repair shop I bought comes fully equipped, but was boarded up since the Department of Homeland Security recovered explosives from the premises. The former owner—Hugh Standish—was involved with a militant group responsible for the bombings in Helena a couple of years ago. The bank eventually foreclosed on the property, which is how I was able to pick it up for a steal.

  How much of a steal became clear when Marcie showed me around the place and I saw the equipment left inside. I haven’t had much of an opportunity to test any of it out, so I can’t wait to finally put it to good use.

  My excitement is short-lived, however, when I hear Sully speak up.

  “I’ll follow you there.”

  Wonderful.

  Suddenly the prospect of getting my hands dirty isn’t as appealing. Not if he’s going to be in my space the entire time. I don’t need the reminder.

  He’s literally riding my bumper the whole way to the shop, so I’m pretty fired up by the time we get here. Sliding out from behind the wheel, I throw a glare in his direction but he ignores me, pulling the truck up to the first bay door.

  I take my sweet time opening the place up and notice it’s quite cold in here. I’m sure last time I stopped in, I kept the furnace running, but it’s dead silent and I can see my breath. Good thing winter is behind us and, other than the occasional overnight dip, temperatures are above freezing or that could’ve spelled busted pipes. I’d better make sure anyway.

  I hit the button for the overhead door before heading for the furnace room in the back. The first bay is a drive-through with an overhead door at the back of the building as well, but at the rear of bays two and three there is a supply room, a bathroom, and another small room housing the furnace and water heater that both run on propane.

  Beside the actual garage, there’s a storefront slash office, with a waiting room for clients. It’s in dire need of a facelift, but I’m waiting for temperatures to warm up a little so I can leave windows and doors open to get rid of the paint fumes. Or maybe I should say ‘I was waiting’ because by the time the weather is nice enough, I could be big as a house. Hell, I don’t even think you’re supposed to paint when you’re pregnant.

  Suddenly the weight of this new reality almost knocks me over and I have to brace myself against the cold furnace, taking a few deep breaths to stave off the surge of panic.

  Holy fuck.

  I just sank most of what I have into buying this place. I drive an old pickup and rent a room, for crying out loud. The only roof I own is this auto repair shop and the motorhome, neither of which are suitable for a baby. Christ, all I have is some dinky travel insurance for emergencies I don’t think will cover pregnancy, let alone childbirth. What the hell am I doing?

  I let out a strangled cry when a warm hand lands on my shoulder.

  “Are you okay?”

  I press my eyes shut and resist turning around to cry into his shirt. I can’t make myself that vulnerable again. Instead, I blow out a breath, and another, then one more before I straighten up and turn around.

  “Yeah, it’s the furnace, it’s not working.”

  His face is too close and those blue eyes are penetrating. A stray thought hits me and I try to remember if blue eyes are a dominant or recessive gene. The mental image of a cute little towheaded toddler with a couple of dimples and clear blue eyes is a little too easy to conjure.

  Oh God.

  “Pippa?”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, forcing my attention on Sully.

  “I was saying I’ll have a look, it’s probably the pilot light.”

  When I don’t immediately step out of the way, he takes me by the shoulders and moves me aside. It makes me realize how confined the space is and I quickly dart out of the room.

  By the time I hear the furnace fire up, I’m already elbow-deep in the truck’s engine. I don’t even bother looking up when he announces his ride is here and he’s leaving.

  Call it self-preservation.

  Three

  Sully

  “Whoa, pretty girl.”

  I run a hand over her soft skin before tugging lightly on her nipple. It’s slightly distended and filling up. She sidesteps restlessly to get away from my touch.

  “She’s close,” I announce to Dan, who is hanging over the stall door. “My guess is before the end of the week.

  “Isn’t she early?”

  “Not by much, couple of weeks.”

  Technically High Meadow is a stud farm, but we keep a dozen or so breeding mares as well.

  Sunny is a pretty little pinto and the foal she’s about to drop was sired by Phantom, one of our resident studs. Jonas and James are the ones who run the breeding program. I personally have little interest in genomics or genetics or whatever the hell they call it, and happily leave that to them. I prefer the concrete, hands-on work as opposed to the theories and calculations.

  “Should I call Doc Evans?”

  I clap Sunny’s rear and exit the stall.

  “Yeah, give him an update. Tell him two, maybe three days.”

  Sunny is a first-timer and although she looks like she’ll be good breeding material, there’s no way to know for sure. That’s why the vet likes to keep track of mares like this one.

  She’ll be the first one to foal in the new barn. Last year the old one burned down and Jonas decided to push forward on an expansion he’d been thinking about. He already had plans drawn up for a larger barn, with a separate foaling section. Three stalls, each of which is outfitted with an electronic monitoring system, but right now Sunny is the only mare in here.

  The barn has a tiny bathroom and small bunk room in the back, in case any of the horses need closer attention. I’ll grab a few things at my cabin and will probably bed down here tonight. I could use the distraction. My mind has been on Pippa ever since I reluctantly left her at the shop last week.

  Hell, who am I kidding? She’s been pretty much on my mind for the past few months. I’ve second-guessed the way I left things that night many times, and again last week when I waited outside the garage for Bo to pick me up.

  She can barely bring herself to talk to me, and it’s beginning to piss me off. How ironic is that? I’m the last person who has any right to be pissed. I was an asshole to her first but apparently can’t hack it when she’s less than enthused to see me. Never before have I let myself get twisted up by a woman like this. I even let Dan and Bo pick up the truck when she was done with it because I’ve become a goddamn coward.

  “Sunny’s getting close,” I tell Jonas and his dad when I walk into the kitchen.

  The two are bent over the dining table, studying a large aerial map of Kootenay National Forest.

  “I hope she can wait,” Jonas comments. “Got a call from the Lincoln County Game Warden’s office. Guess they’ve got Woody Moses busy working with Ewing on those bodies we found, and they need a hand with some aerial surveillance, pinpointing locations, and documenting activity.”

  “Of what?”

  “Baiting bear. It’s what Moses was working on before and they don’t have enough personnel to allocate someone else to track down every report they get in. The reports come from volunteers in the field, people who see something suspicious will call it in. Normally, Woody will go check it out in person, but he’s got his hands full and they just got a new report in.”