Chapter 1

It was still light out when Roxie Wolff slipped booties on her Saint Bernard, Rosco, to protect his feet from the cold on an early evening walk in the deep snow. It was starting to snow lightly, though it was supposed to come down heavily tonight, which was great for the Silver Town Ski Resort. With her quadruplet siblings—sister, Kayla, and brothers, Landon and Blake—Roxie was co-owner of the Wolff Timberline Ski Lodge at the resort.

Rosco was much better at not running off to chase after squirrels and bunnies than when he was a pup, but they still often walked the avalanche rescue dog on a leash. Then she heard something running nearby in the woods. She glanced in that direction. Her gray-wolf hearing was much more enhanced than a human’s as she tried to discern what she’d heard. Rosco was also listening, his ears perked, his nose tilted up, sniffing the air. She glanced at the bare oak branches covered in a fresh coating of white snow. The Douglas firs also wore blankets of white. All the fresh powder had been perfect for the ski season this year.

“What did you hear?” she whispered to Rosco.

He looked up at her and wagged his tail. She smiled. She knew he’d heard what she’d heard, whatever it had been. She was frozen with indecision. Her curiosity as a wolf shifter made her want to check it out. Black bears should be hibernating, unless something woke one up by disturbing its den, and then it was better to avoid the bear. Wolves other than the shifter kind lived out here too, and she didn’t want to run into a wild wolf pack. They could attack a dog. Maybe even her. They were territorial, though this was the Silver wolf pack’s territory, and pack members let other wolves know it was theirs all the time. Cougars also ran out here, so she wasn’t sure just what the animal had been. Maybe deer. Elk even.

Whatever it had been, she didn’t see a whisper of movement of any kind of critter and didn’t hear anything but the wind blowing through the trees, knocking clumps of snow off that promptly fell to the piled-up snow around the trees.

“It was probably nothing,” Roxie said, trying to reassure herself as much as she was trying to do the same for Rosco. “Go do your thing.”

Then she saw what she thought was a ghost in the screen of snow. A red-bearded ghost. A man dressed all in white.

Rosco pulled at her to go in a different direction, stealing her attention. He’d finally found a place to relieve himself, thankfully, and she looked back to observe the man in white further, but he was gone. She glanced around, trying to see anyone, but whoever it had been had left.

“Come on, Rosco. Let’s go home.” She and Rosco headed back to her house. She was still looking over her shoulder, watching for any sign of movement, looking for the man in white, but she didn’t see him. The night was getting darker, but with her wolf vision, she could still see as well as if it were daytime. Snowflakes landed on her hat, her coat, her eyelashes, and Rosco’s fur.

Rosco kept looking over his shoulder too, as concerned as Roxie that something was out there that they should check into or watch to protect their backs. Though he hadn’t pulled at his leash to go check it out. Why hadn’t he seen the red-bearded guy? He would have woofed, at least, to tell her a stranger was there.

If someone, a hiker, had been in trouble, Rosco would have picked up on that and immediately alerted her. Maybe he had sensed the man, even if he hadn’t seen him. There might have been a wild animal of some sort out there too. It wouldn’t have been one of Silver Town’s wolf shifters, or he or she would have greeted them. Of course, visitors to the resort who wanted to shift and run might not know she was a wolf shifter and would keep quiet.

As soon as she arrived at her home, Roxie stomped the snow from her boots and pulled Rosco’s booties off before they entered the house. Princess Buttercup, their golden tabby rescue cat, came to greet them, winding around Roxie’s legs first and then Rosco’s. Sometimes Roxie put Buttercup in a pet carrier and took her with them on walks, but the cat had seemed happy at home, and Roxie had wanted to go and come back quickly because of the impending snowstorm.

She got a call on her phone while she locked the door and Rosco nosed Buttercup back. It was her brother Blake who lived in the home next door. She knew just what he was calling about. “Already done.”

“I thought I was supposed to walk Rosco tonight.”

“You have enough on your plate with taking care of three-month-old twins and trying to get them down for the night. Unless”—she smiled and pulled off her gloves—“you wanted a break and planned to leave the babies with Nicole to handle on her own.”

He laughed. “Nah. I just didn’t want you to think you had to do all the dog walking now that we’re taking care of the twins.”

“I know the two of you aren’t getting enough sleep. So it’s fine with me. Besides, Kayla and Nate are taking Rosco for more walks now too.” She thought of mentioning what she’d believed she’d heard in the woods, but there wasn’t any sense in alarming anybody about anything. Particularly since she didn’t know what had been out there and she didn’t want her brother worried. “I’ll talk to you later. Have a good night’s sleep if you can get it.”

“Night, Roxie. See you at the lodge in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you. Oh, and give the babies a good-night kiss from me.”

“Will do.”

She sighed, missing the way things had been, living with all her siblings. She reconsidered whether she should tell Blake about the mystery man, but she didn’t want him trying to track the man down in the snow when the guy hadn’t acted dangerous or anything.

She thought she’d be fine having the whole house to herself—until Kayla moved out to be with Nate in their new home on the property on the other side of Blake and Nicole’s home. She really missed their time together.

Special Agent Dylan Powers with the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service was searching the woods near Silver Town, Colorado, for four men he’d been tracking through the week for illegal hunting. Like him, the thirty-year-old men—Jim Johnson, a criminal attorney, Xander Stone, an orthodontist, Eddie Jones, a western-clothes chain store owner, and Fennel Keaton, a professor of English at a community college—were from Denver, and none had wives or kids. As a gray wolf having an enhanced sense of smell, hearing, and night vision, Dylan felt he was endowed with superpowers that made this job just the right one for him.

Dylan had been trying to catch the four men ever since the season for hunting with rifles had ended. They were well known to him. All of them came from wealthy families in Denver, and they all felt they were above the law, able to buy their way out of practically any misconduct, which they’d proven any number of times on illegal hunting trips.

Snow was falling steadily in the mountainous, wooded region, and Dylan knew no matter how long he wanted to keep this up, if the visibility dropped to zero, he would have to hunker down in his tent until it let up. If he got too cold, he would just strip off his clothes and turn into his wolf. His fur coat would keep him warm, and if he remained in his tent, snuggled in his sleeping bag, that would keep the wind off him. But he wanted to catch these men before the snow got too bad.

Dylan wasn’t stalking the men and waiting for them to hunt, even though he knew their hunting licenses had been suspended for two years. But they’d made this easy for him. They always went on their hunting trips this time of year. They loved to kill wolves, and Dylan had already turned them in for injuring a wolf he had managed to save. A real wolf wearing a tracking collar, not a gray wolf shifter like him. Dylan had arrested them, and then what had happened? They had been released on a $5,000 bond for each of them. They could have each gotten a $100,000 fine, loss of their hunting licenses for a lifetime, and a year in jail for the wolves they had killed earlier, but they were found innocent of the charges, even though Dylan had caught them in the act. Then a judge caught them hunting on his own property, made a citizen’s arrest, and turned them over to the authorities, and they were charged with killing an elk. That time, the charges stuck, and they lost their licenses for two years.

So now what were they doing? Hunting on property near Silver Town.

He saw snowshoe tracks leading off in another direction and quickly turned to observe a redheaded, bearded man in the mist of snow, dressed in mostly white—a snowsuit, white snow boots, a white knit hat, and his backpack a white-gray-beige blend of camouflage for winter so that he blended in with the snow—except for his red beard and long, curly red hair covered in snowflakes and icicles. He was standing among the trees, peering at Dylan for a moment. He wasn’t carrying a rifle, or Dylan would have stopped him and questioned him. He wasn’t carrying a bow or quiver of arrows, like he could have been if he was bowhunting.

He looked like a mountain man—like Dylan had been forced to be when he was a teen—except that this guy’s clothes were new, not worn out and dirty like someone who lived in the woods for months or years on end. Dylan suspected the man was sizing him up, trying to determine why he was out here alone, just like Dylan was trying to figure out the redheaded guy. The man was downwind of him, so Dylan couldn’t determine if he was anxious to be seen or not.

Then the redheaded man took off at a medium pace away from Dylan, as if he had places to go, things to do, and Dylan wasn’t a worry to him. Dylan watched him, feeling uneasy about the man. He wasn’t sure what was bothering him about the man, but his wolf senses made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Dylan heard a shot fired from a rifle—maybe ten miles away—and headed in that direction, certain that the men he was after were hunting illegally once again. Why else would someone be out here shooting with a rifle? Unless it was another hunter shooting out of season. About fifteen minutes later, another shot was fired some distance from the first. It was unlikely they would wound their prey and race after it to shoot it again. They were all great shots. Had they found something else to kill?

Soon Dylan reached an area where they had killed an elk and left it behind in the snow. What the hell? It was bad enough that they were killing animals illegally, but to not even pack it out?

He smelled the scents they’d left behind—Jim’s, Xander’s, Eddie’s, and Fennel’s. He saw their deep footprints in the snow, though the snow was coming down in blankets of white now. The snowfall would soon fill up the tracks.

He glimpsed the sight of a wolf running into the woods off in the distance. A young wolf. A shifter? If the wolf was a shifter, he would be the age of a teen. Dylan just hoped the men he was hunting didn’t try to kill the wolf.

Dylan was continuing to search for the men when he realized from the scents and footprints he followed that there were only three hunters now. Had they split up? Eddie was no longer with them.

The wind was blowing so hard, he was afraid that everyone would be lost. Maybe that was why Eddie was no longer with the other three. Maybe they’d lost him. Maybe this time, the men would find themselves in a worse situation than just illegally hunting. Dylan could only hope they’d learn from their mistakes and change their ways.

He finally found tracks going in different directions and frowned. What the hell? The men had split up again, two of them going one way and the third traveling in the opposite direction. They had to be crazy to do so in this weather. All four men should have stuck together.

He started to follow one of them: Jim, the lawyer, because he was always the one in charge of the others, and he was alone and could get himself into real trouble, Dylan was thinking. After about a half hour, Dylan realized Jim was heading to the ski lodge where Dylan had parked his pickup truck. Wouldn’t someone notice that Jim was carrying a hunting rifle? If anyone saw him, they could have him detained for questioning, figuring that he would have been out in the woods shooting wildlife out of season. Dylan just hoped he could prove that these four men had killed the elk, or at least one of them had.

He saw the lights of the ski lodge ahead, no tracks, but he kept getting whiffs of Jim’s scent. Dylan swore Jim figured he could get away with anything because he knew the law and could manipulate it. Having friends in influential positions—judges, lawyers, the police chief—helped. His scent led Dylan to the ski lodge’s outdoor swimming pool, which surprised Dylan. Sure, to get out of this weather, Dylan could understand that. But why hadn’t the other men stayed with him?

The patio must have been heated. The snow was melting and there were no discernable footprints. Just as Dylan glanced at the swimming pool, he saw the reflection of a man wearing a gray parka with the hood up to help hide his face, a gray knit cap, and ski goggles coming up behind him, rifle butt raised, ready to strike him. As Dylan turned to fend off his attacker, Jim hit him hard in the side of the head with a resounding thud. White lights flashed before Dylan’s eyes as he found himself falling, warm water enveloping him, and then…only blackness.

Roxie was feeling a little down about being on her own now. Most nights, she kept the family’s Saint Bernard and their cat to keep her company because she wasn’t used to being alone.

But Valentine’s Day was coming, and she wasn’t seriously dating anyone. She felt like a lost cause when it came to finding a mate. Sure, there were a lot of bachelor males in Silver Town, Colorado, a wolf-run town, and she liked them, but settling down with one of them forever and ever? Nah.

She glanced out the window and saw the snow still steadily falling. She sighed. She could mope about being by herself at home, or she could take a swim at the lodge and at least get some laps in. She always felt better when she did. She went upstairs to her bedroom and changed into her swimsuit, then pulled her sweats on over them. She slipped on socks, boots, gloves, a parka, and a knit hat. Then she grabbed a pool bag and added a bottle of water, a beach towel, a plastic bag for her wet bathing suit, and a pair of panties to it. She left her home to walk to the lodge close by. They had an indoor-outdoor pool that was great to swim in no matter the time of year.

The pool was closed at ten in the evening, but because she was one of the lodge’s owners, she could swim in it anytime she wanted when she wasn’t working. She reached the lodge’s doors and went inside, waved at the new night manager, Eliza Fraser, and then headed inside the pool area to swim.

After setting her bag on a chaise lounge, Roxie began removing her gloves, parka, boots, socks, and sweats. She stretched and went down the stairs into the pool. Then she began to swim her first lap. She considered just swimming to the divider to the outside part of the pool but decided to dive under and swim the whole distance to get a little more exercise. She dove under and surfaced, but before she started swimming again, she saw a male body, fully clothed and wearing a backpack, sinking to the bottom of the pool facedown. She gasped.