Wolf Among Sheep: A Paranormal Werewolf Romance (Roadside Angels Motorcycle Club Book 1) (3 page)

There was a slight pause, almost imperceptible, but Tammie noticed it and wondered why. Then, the woman, whose name tag said she was Lily, smiled and answered brightly.

“Everyone knows Lex, Ms. Gibbs! And they either hate him or love him. Why do you ask?”

“I’m here to write a story about that rescue, and the news reports say Mr. Cole was the hero of the hour.”

“Lex is always the hero, even when no one is watching,” Lily said. “But because he’s a member of a bike club, he gets flak from some folk who are scared of him anyway. He’s a big guy. You can’t miss him.”

Tammie smiled again, remembering the man she had seen only a few minutes ago.
He is a big guy, all right! Scary big!
She was determined more than ever to speak with him, given the reaction of the two women whom she had asked about him. However, she didn’t want to step on any toes, and either of them might be his lady friend, so she refrained from asking any further questions.

Once in her room, she made note of the
how
of the accident, making a note to ask how a little boy could be helping with the fencing. She imagined it was dangerous work, and she also assumed the fencing involved barbed wire. She would have thought he’d be in more danger from getting stabbed by a barb than from being attacked by a wolf. Which reminded her to find out more about the government-sponsored wolf sanctuary. She would need to know where it was located, how many wolves they had, what kind they were, and so on.

The more information she had going into the interview with Alexander Cole, the better she would feel. She got the impression he didn’t suffer fools gladly, and she was determined to make a good impression on him. Something about him made her sit up and pay attention, and it wasn’t just his size—although he was at least a foot taller than she was and probably more. There was something in the way he carried himself, in the way he handled those rowdy men earlier, even in the way he had watched her watching him, that fascinated her and drew her to him.

Shaking her head to rid herself of the distracting images, she began a search for the information she needed. After making more notes, she called one of three numbers to see who would be willing to be interviewed about the wolves. Each time she was sent to voicemail, and she sighed in frustration.

It was just turning to evening, and she felt antsy. She knew she needed to be doing something but couldn’t decide what that might be. Back in the lobby, she asked for directions to the police station, the library, the newspaper office, and the post office. She also asked if there were a doctor in town or a clinic. She could tell the new desk clerk was curious about her questions, and she decided she’d tell him why she was in town—maybe he could help.

“I’m a journalist, and I’m here to find out more about the wolf attack. I’m just lining up the places I’ll need to go to talk to people who might be able to help me find answers.”

“Oh?” the clerk raised a brow. “What sorts of things do you want to know that aren’t already in the papers?” He sounded skeptical, and Tammie couldn’t blame him.

“Well, for one thing, I’m curious about what kind of wolf attacked the boy,” she offered, not willing to give him too much more than that.

The clerk smiled, a condescending smile she thought, and his next words bore that out. “Oh, you’re another one of those people looking for werewolves, eh?”

Tammie was taken aback, but she didn’t let her surprise show. Instead, she gave him her full attention and asked, “Is that something people around here take seriously?” She was careful to make her voice neutral—in case he was offended by the way she phrased her question.

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Only old folks whose ancestors moved here at the dawn of time. The people who believe in omens and demons and such. They think it was a werewolf.”

“And what do you think?” Tammie sneaked that question in.

He looked startled, as though he hadn’t expected anyone would ever ask him his opinion. “It was a wolf, just like Lex said. He doesn’t have a reason to lie, and if anyone is more honest and logical than Lex Cole, I have yet to meet him. There are rumors of biker gangs running illegal dog fights just outside of town, but I’m sure Lex knows the difference between a wolf and a dog.” He chuckled at his own joke. “I’ll bet that’s just another story to get people riled up about Lex and his club.”

Hmmm, another Lex Cole fan, it seems
, Tammie thought, as she thanked the clerk for his help, wondering if the rumor were true. Illegal dog fights might not be supernatural, but they would certainly make a good story. Something else to think about. She decided a turn around the streets nearby wouldn’t be a bad idea, so she could get an idea of what was where. It took her a good half an hour to find the first places on her list, and then she decided she was hungry and needed to eat. The diner was still open, so she walked in and a girl, younger than Ginny, led her to a table for two by one of the big windows. She gratefully accepted the menu and was soon enjoying a delicious ribs and mashed potato meal.

As she ate, she looked around her, trying to take note of everything she was seeing and hearing, so she could process it later in her room.  She kept watching for Lex Cole to appear, but he didn’t—to her great disappointment. Calling for the check, she took her leave and walked quickly back to the hotel.

Deciding she couldn’t bring herself to soak in the tub, although the room and bathroom were clean enough, she took a long shower instead and went to bed, exhausted—so much so that she didn’t hear the cellphone alarm. An hour later, the warm sun stroking her bare shoulder woke her.

She had a very odd dream, featuring Lex Cole in the role of circus performer. In her dream, though, he was a magician, wielding his wand and getting her to do handstands and flips. She woke up confused by the dream, and by her reluctance, which she still remembered when she woke up, to leave the ring. She had wanted to stay there, doing whatever the bare-chested Lex demanded of her.

Shaking off the effects of the weird dream, she hurried through a quick wash, put on the barest of makeup, donned crisp jeans, a blue T-shirt that sported a smiling Willie Nelson (to make sure she fit in, she had told herself), high-heeled black ankle boots, tucked her ponytail through the loop of a baseball cap, and went to get breakfast. Today she planned to visit the newspaper and Lex Cole; but, first, the diner. She was as hungry again as she had been the night before, as though she hadn’t eaten a very filling meal.

The eatery was crowded again this morning, and she had to wait five minutes to be seated. Happy not to be last in line, she sat in the same seat as she had the night before and waited for her order to arrive. Sipping the water left on the table for her, she wondered who all these people were and where they had been the day before. It was noisy, but pleasantly so, and she let herself relax for a few moments. The jury was still out on the livability of the town, especially because it got so awfully hot. She loved the two seasons, fall and winter, most of all because she could wear her high boots and plush sweaters—and because she could enjoy the fragrance of wood burning in the fireplace and pies baking. Here, the heat seemed to sear every olfactory nerve ending. She couldn’t imagine living here.

Her bill paid, she went to get the car she had rented, knowing she would not be able to walk around in the increasingly hot sunshine. It was a feisty yellow bug, and she smiled when she saw it. Feeling cheerful for no reason she could think of, she drove to the newspaper office, parked in the spot she saw empty in front, and went in to find the boss. A gorgeous middle-aged lady smiled sweetly up at her, as she walked in.

“Good morning, I’m Tamara Gibbs from
The Courier
based in Connecticut, and I wondered if I might speak to the managing editor.”

“Mr. Rose isn’t available at the moment, Ms. Gibbs. Perhaps you’d like to speak to his second instead? And may I ask why you need to speak to him?”

“I’m here about the wolf attacks.” Tammie made it short. The woman looked friendly enough, but she wasn’t willing to give too much away too soon.

“I’ll see if Mr. Street can see you now.” The receptionist or secretary moved back from the desk, and Tammie saw that she was wheelchair-bound. She pressed a button on the right arm of the chair and turned a little handle that helped her zip away to the back, from which she emerged a few moments later.

“If you don’t mind waiting, Mr. Street will see you in a few minutes. Please have a seat. The water cooler is just over there, if you’d like something cool to drink. It’s surely parching outside.”

“I’d like that, thank you.” Tammie went and helped herself to a v-bottomed paper cup of water, swallowed it in two gulps, and refilled before taking a seat across from the woman. She could not help but admire erf4 quietly working and happily answering the phone, just as a dapper, stubby little man appeared around the corner.

“Miss Gibbs? I’m Donald Street. Please follow me.” He turned sharply and walked away, and Tammie hurried after him, dumping her paper cup in the trash can on the way.

Donald Street’s office was a cubicle in the back, right next to the fire exit. It was functional, but quite unprepossessing, and she wondered who he was to have been relegated to this spare space.

“I’m the news editor here,” he said, extending his hand. “How may I help you?” He indicated the armchair across from his desk, and she sat down and began to speak immediately.

“I found an article in the newsfeeds about an incident that occurred in your town about a month ago. Alexander Cole saved the life of your mayor’s grandson, who was attacked by wolves.”

Donald Street looked at her expectantly, his face giving nothing away. Tammie inhaled deeply and continued, recognizing that she was facing an experienced newsman, one in the same class as her boss.

“I was curious, to start with, because I’d never heard of wolves in Arizona, and then when I saw that they were black wolves, which are not native to this area, I thought it might make a good environmental story. When I searched, I discovered that the little boy’s savior was a biker, which I thought would add a nice human interest angle.”

Street steepled his fingers under his chin and looked at her for another long moment before asking, “Why should a biker be of interest to you?”

His question sounded almost like a sneer, as though he thought she wasn’t to be taken seriously. Tammie ignored the subtle insult and answered, “Well, where I’m from, bikers have a certain reputation—and saving little boys’ lives isn’t part of that.”

“People round these parts don’t like outsiders coming in to stick their noses into our affairs. And Lex Cole is a very private man. You won’t get anything more than is already in the papers. Toby Wheeler was helping Lex repair the fences on his grandfather’s property when the wolf attacked. Lex chased off the wolf and got the boy to the clinic.”

“What sorts of injuries did Toby sustain?” Tammie asked. “The report had said nothing about that.”

“He had some deep scratches from where the animal had tried to pin him—and some glass from the window. The wolf did try to bite him, but his grip didn’t get strong enough to do permanent damage to the boy’s leg.”

Tammie’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh dear! I do hope he’s doing much better now!” she exclaimed.

“He’s as well as he can be. He’s a tough little coot, just like his grandfather.” His phone rang just then, and he put up a finger while he answered it. A few muttered phrases, and then he hung up. “Well, I’m afraid I must get going now, Ms. Gibbs. I have a previous appointment.”

He was dismissing her, and she had very little more information about the attacks than she had had before. She hid her annoyance and asked, “Do you know where I might find Mr. Cole, then?”

“If he’s not in town, he’ll be at his ranch. About ten miles west of here.” Cole scribbled something on a Post-It note and handed it to her. This will help you find it.” He stood and came around the desk. “Now I really must be going,” he said and ushered her out the door. “Have a nice day.”

CHAPTER THREE

“Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.”--Winston Churchill

Feeling miffed at being summarily dismissed, Tammie got into the car, opened all the windows and turned on the air conditioner. When the cool air had banished the worst of the heat, she wound up all the windows and followed the directions to Lex Cole’s ranch. The desert landscape was sparse, but there was a kind of peace in the view that Tammie could appreciate. She supposed that if she were less of a city chick, she might find this scenery growing on her. As it was, she could only admire its pristine beauty in an intellectual sort of way.

Turning her thoughts to the elusive Lex Cole, she wondered what made him such a favorite among the townspeople. Sure, he was a handsome, imposing hunk of a man, and she had felt the aura of power that had emanated from him as he had walked by her in the diner the night before. Plus, she supposed the mystique of the bad boy biker made him irresistible to women, as well. So, if he were riding a wave of popularity, it was no wonder that his saving the mayor’s grandson had catapulted him into the stratosphere of adulation. He could do no wrong, apparently—which probably meant he had something to hide. She had seen it too often before...the ones with the most to hide were the ones least likely to appear that way.

Rounding a long sharp bend in the road, she came to the huge, old wrought iron gates with the typical arch over the top proclaiming this to be the “Monkshood Horse Ranch.” She thought that a rather odd name for a ranch and wondered if Lex Cole had been a monk at one time. Just remembering his height and girth—and the raw sexuality of his appearance—she sincerely doubted he had ever been celibate as an adult.

The gates were wide open, so she drove in cautiously, straining to see any signs of life. There was nothing but more desert for at least two miles before she saw what looked like a spread of buildings in the distance. As she drew closer, she saw a house, a huge barn, and what looked like a corral. However, no one appeared to be in the little oasis which housed the ranch buildings.

Feeling uneasy, because she knew she had come to invade this man’s personal space without his invitation or permission, she stopped the car in front of the house and got out. She walked up the steps to the front door and, seeing no doorbell, applied the old-fashioned knocker to the door. Still, a grand—almost eerie—silence was all that greeted her. She looked around her, wondering what to do next, when she saw what looked like dust coming from the distance to her right. Hurrying back into the car, she turned and followed it, hoping it meant there was someone she could talk to—preferably the man himself.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, she was heading straight into the path of a monster pickup truck. It was black, and sported horns, and was so cliché that if she weren’t a little bit frightened by its appearance on the road in front of her, she would have laughed aloud. Instead, she stopped the car and waited to see who it was. When the truck came to a stop next to her car, and the driver hopped out, her eyes popped open wide in shock and fear. The largest man she had ever seen, wider even than Lex Cole, was striding around the front of her car while she sat, pole-axed, watching him come.

“You’re trespassing, lady!” The man’s voice was deep, James Earl Jones deep, and his face was shadowed by a Stetson, so she couldn’t see his expression. The words were matter-of-fact, neither hostile nor friendly. Mustering all her courage, she opened her door and got out, extending a hand to him, despite the fact that she had to crane her neck to see his face.

“I’m sorry. I’m Tamara Gibbs from
The Courier.
And you are?”

The man smiled a sardonic smile and took her hand into what she decided was nothing less than a paw. It engulfed hers firmly and completely, and she waited for him to show her how strong he was by squeezing hers. Instead, he returned her hand to her quietly and said, amusement lacing his voice, “I am the foreman here, and you’re still trespassing. What’s your business? Lost your way?”

“I’m here to see Alexander Cole, if he’s available?” Tammie was not enjoying being the butt of his obvious amusement and wished she felt less like a child standing next to her intimidating parent.

“Lex is not here. Was he expecting you?”

“No, I…”

He interrupted her. “Then don’t hold your breath, lady.” He turned away, saying over his shoulder, “Follow me.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, and feeling more and more irritated, she got back into her little rental and trailed behind him, as he escorted her off his employer’s land. Once at the huge gates, he drove up beside her and got out of his truck again. Winding down the window, she leaned out in time to hear him say, a smirk on his face, “Drive carefully, ma’am!” He gestured for her to proceed, and when she did, the big gates swung shut behind her.

Fuming all the way back to town, she decided to see if Ginny knew where Lex Cole would be. The dratted man was as slippery as an eel—to coin a hackneyed phrase—and she was fed up with trying to chase him down. Her time was running out, as was her patience. She parked her car and stepped into the diner, inhaling gratefully of the chilled air. Looking around for Ginny, she spotted the man she had spent the last hour looking for at the back with two men, deep in conversation. He looked up and saw her, pinning her with a hard stare before blatantly giving her the cut and going back to his conversation.

Tammie felt heat rising up her cheeks, and the ire that had been stalking her since her visit with the newspaperman rose another notch.
So, he thought he’d ignore me, eh? I’ll show him.
I didn’t chose journalism as my career because I’m a shrinking violet, a wallflower waiting for some poor sap to take pity on me and ask me to dance before midnight at the fancy ball. He’ll wish he had been more courteous by the time I’m done with him.

Taking a deep breath to steady her quaking nerves, she thought,
Who am I kidding?
The sight of him did strange things to her that she didn’t understand and didn’t want to try to understand. She was trembling like a leaf in a gale, as she marched over to where he sat and stood facing him.

“Excuse me, Mr. Cole?” Her voice was a bit thready with nerves, but she stood her ground and waited.

Lex Cole gave her the once over. Then he stared rudely, before asking, “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Tamara Gibbs from
The Courier
. I’d like to ask you a few questions if I may?”

She didn’t extend her hand this time, assuming that he would not reciprocate the gesture.

“And where is this
Courier
located?” he asked, staring up at her unblinkingly.

“We’re based in Connecticut,” she replied, refusing to show any emotion.

“Ah! A Connecticut Yankee has come to grace us with her presence, boys! Say hi to Ms. Gibbs!”

He looked away from her at last, and the two men who were with him turned. The younger one smiled in a friendly way, and the older one sketched a salute. How-do-you-dos were passed back and forth, and once again she was waiting.

“I’m Lex Cole. What questions?” His voice was hard, as he suddenly recaptured her in his gaze. “I haven’t agreed to any interviews with any newspapers.”

“I’d like to ask about the wolf attacks here a month ago, and about your part in it.”

“What more is there to say? It’s in all the papers.”

“I have a few questions about some things not in the reports, Mr. Cole. If you would spare me a few moments of your time, I—”

“I’m sorry, but I have nothing further to add. This is a small town, and we aren’t interested in satisfying the whims of big city journalists with nothing better to do with their time than rehash old news. I can’t help you, Ms. Gibbs. I suggest you get back home and find something else to waste your time on.”

He turned his attention back to his companions as though she were not still standing there. She was furious now at how he had humiliated her. This time, she was trembling with rage and fighting to control her emotions. She wanted to hit him with her bag, but it wasn’t big enough to do his tough skull any damage. She briefly toyed with the idea of punching him in the face then discarded it as likely to land her in jail for assault—and she’d likely lose her job. He and his lunch partners rose to leave, walking past her, as though she were invisible.

When Ginny came over to clear their table, she asked Tammie if she would like to stay for lunch, unaware of what had just happened.

“No, Ginny, thanks. I’ll just get going.”

Turning away, she walked slowly because she didn’t want to meet Lex Cole or his companions still in the parking lot. By the time she got outside, they had all disappeared. Gratefully, because she could not stand to be dismissed again, she went back to her hotel. Time to call her boss, make some notes, and plan tomorrow’s strategy.

Ray didn’t pick up, so she left a message to say she’d call him later. That gave her a reprieve. Maybe if she put all the pieces of the puzzle that was Lex Cole together, she’d get a better picture of who he was, since he was being so uncooperative. There had to be some reason why her gut was telling her to pursue Lex Cole. She sensed that he held the key to a much larger story than a wolf attack, and she just had to find a way in. It was a pity she couldn’t use the attraction she felt for him to her advantage. She wouldn’t let things go that way again, not after Garth. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but she admitted she had used him—with no intention of giving him what he wanted from her. She suspected that Lex Cole would not take kindly to being used by a woman in any way, and she knew instinctively that if she were to try, she would be the one left angry and probably hurting in the end.

By early afternoon, she was starving, but unwilling to face the diner again. Her recent humiliation was still fresh in her mind, and the thought of meeting Lex and his friends again while she was still smarting from that earlier confrontation was enough to make her balk. Instead, she called the front desk and asked about places that made deliveries. Writing down the number of a pizza place, she made her call, ordering a medium-sized “everything pizza,” which sounded decadent when the server described it to her, and a large bottle of Coke. She needed comfort food right now more than she needed to be healthy, and there would be enough that she could eat for at least one other time. When the food was delivered, she tipped the young man generously, remembering how hot it was outside and sat in the armchair to eat and plan.

She must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, a sharp knock at the door startled her into quivering wakefulness. She was not dressed for company, and hurriedly dragged on a long sleep tee over her bra and panties, as it was the closest thing to hand. Then, she looked through the eyehole and saw... Lex Cole.
Well, blow me down
, she thought, wondering if that was a phrase native to Arizona.

Realizing she was definitely
not
dressed for
his
company, she said, “One minute, please!” and struggled into the jeans she had taken off earlier. Now, feeling somewhat more composed, but simmering with curiosity and residual anger, she opened the door.

“Mr. Cole!” She injected cool surprise into her voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ve come to ask you to leave off your questions about the incident and go back home. It’s done, and it’s best left in the past, where it belongs.”

He sounded uncompromising, not willing to budge an inch. And even though he used the word
ask
she was well aware that he wasn’t asking her to do anything. He was
telling
her to stop her questions—which was exactly what she wasn’t going to do. Something was up with this man, and she was determined to find out what it was. What he didn’t know was that telling her to do something she didn’t want to do was guaranteed to make her dig her heels in.

“If there’s nothing to hide, Mr. Cole, why are you so keen on me leaving it alone?” She let what she hoped was a cool smile tilt her lips for a second, then she returned the mask of reserve and caution. “What’s so special about a biker saving a kid from a wolf that demands so much secrecy?” She challenged him with her words and her tone, surprising herself completely.
What has come over me?