AlphaMountie

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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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 more 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 outperform 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.