Bear with Me (Bear Mountain Patrol Series Book 1) (3 page)

The call went to voicemail. “I’m feeling funny, something bit me. Can you come to the park?” Flashes of heat raced across her chest. A curious tingling started in her fingertips and rose up her arms, leaving them numb, inert. A fuzzy cloud covered the buildings, everyone in the park blurred, she could barely see across the street now.

“Not now, not now,” she murmured wishing her distorted vision would wait until she made it home. The sound of her breath amplified to the point she didn’t hear much else. “My head, I can’t…” Her tongue grew lazy and refused to move, speech became impossible.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sun hid behind the clouds abandoning her to the dark regions of her mind.
Had everything conspired against her
?

“You okay?” the older woman she had spoken to earlier asked from nearby while jogging in place.

Camilla turned in the direction of the voice, held up her phone and shook her head instinctively.

“Okay, you’re calling someone.” The woman nodded and ran across the street.

“Wait, I need help,” Camilla cried but the words stuck in her mind.

“Camilla?” A tall, handsome man strode through the fog but she was certain she had never seen him before. He stood next to her and wrapped his arm around her. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll help you,” he said in a smooth voice. She glanced at the spiraling tattoo on his forearm and tried to trace it but her hand wouldn’t cooperate.

“Who are you? You don’t smell right.” The words formed in her gut but her mouth refused to utter them. Alarm bells rang in her mind, muted, they sounded like a tinkle, an annoying buzz easily ignored.

“Come with me,” he insisted holding her by the waist then moving in the opposite direction away from her home.

Camilla tried to stop him. In her mind she fought him every step of the way but her body disobeyed and moved along with this fraudulent rescuer. At the edge of the park she stumbled to the ground. Her glasses flew off and she couldn’t see. Once down, her legs refused to move and he picked her up.

“
Tag! Help me
,” her mind screamed freely calling his name for the first time in over three years. Now that his name raced around her mind she allowed it free rein. “
Help me, Tag, please, help.
”

Her eyes closed and her world went dark.

Chapter 4

The jingle from Tag’s cell phone blared as he strode into the kitchen. The harsh midday sun shot through the windows and painted sharp rectangles on the tiled floor. Remnants of coffee, bacon and maple syrup odors lingered from breakfast. Antsy, Grizzle wouldn’t settle down earlier which meant extra laps in the pool before heading out to the range.

He laid his rifle on the solid mahogany table then placed his semi-automatic pistol next to it for cleaning. Taking a jug of water from the refrigerator he upended it. The cool liquid eased his dry throat and restored fluids he’d lost while target practicing on the north end of his property.

Months had passed since he spent time on the range and if Jackson watched him, he wanted the man to see he hadn’t lost his touch. The “No Trespassing” signs posted on the fences and trees surrounding his property meant exactly what they said and he’d be happy to back them up.

The irritating jingle stopped. Rather than check to see who called he grabbed the cleaning kit for his weapons and sat down to that enjoyable task. After locking them away, he returned to the kitchen to find something more substantial than the honeycomb he’d snacked on outside where he kept his bees.

Pleased the bees were doing much better, he planned to send his mom a jar with the comb and some larvae from his private stash as a peace offering. The last time they talked she hadn’t been happy with him. She wouldn’t be happy until he gave up his guns, stopped hunting, returned to the family ranch in Montana and settled down.

Since he had no intention of doing any of those things but loved his mother, a jar of pure honey would make a good peace offering. At least he hoped. Lately, her hints about a visit to his ranch with his two sisters for a family get-together to discuss his inheritance, escalated.

Invariably his thoughts traveled to his father. Until two and a half years ago, his dad had worked for BMP as a special regulations officer. Supposedly killed in the mountains by a bear who also killed a human camper, Tag never believed the agency’s account and did a separate investigation, discovering a huge cover-up.

Politics and bullshit cost his dad his life.

Since they had no idea what Tag had done with the information he’d uncovered, the Montana BMP brass had him taken into a room with no windows and given an ultimatum. Either forget the circumstances of his father’s death or watch his mother and sisters suffer. As the faceless man’s voice droned through the speaker telling of places, friends and locations where his mom frequented, Tag knew they could snatch his mother at any time.

Rage over his inability to protect the women in his life ripped his heart apart. Angry curses erupted from his mouth as he jumped up, shifted and released Grizzle. In that tiny room he clawed and pounded the beige-colored concrete block walls and punched the ceiling that wouldn’t break. When his rage over the circumstances simmered to a manageable heat, Tag agreed to their demands. And in that moment he locked away the fact that his father had worked with the DEA to bring down a South American drug dealer named Sanchez and had been killed during a drug sale gone bad. Next, those sad fucks banned him from Montana for three years. Six months to go then he could stop making lame excuses and go home to visit.

Guilt ate at him constantly, kept him roaming the mountains in search for redemption. Word reached him those assholes, from his father’s unit, wanted him terminated but Jackson had taken a special interest and personally watched out for him.

Tag shook off the morbid thoughts as his stomach growled. He pulled out a fresh piece of salmon he bought that morning, seasoned it then sliced it in long strips. He could eat it raw or cooked. The rising temperatures outside swung his decision against turning on the stove. A bowl of nuts and berries were in the refrigerator, he placed it on the table next to his plate and grabbed a large glass of water.

He continued to ignore the jingle of his cell as it rang periodically throughout his meal. After cleaning the kitchen he headed for the shower. The phone rang again. Wondering who called so many times, he looked at the caller ID.

“Ryan Lee?” he murmured. It had been two years since he had talked to his friend. “Hello?”

“Dragon?”

“Tag.” He didn’t want Ryan using his field name, even if it was just the two of them talking. Over the years he’d shed blood in 30 countries leaving widows in his wake. Dragon wasn’t dead, just inactive. Something told him that might change soon.

A long sigh came through the line. “Man, you are hard to track down. How are you?”

“Good.” He hesitated. “You?”

“Not good. My cousin, Camilla, she’s missing.”

Tag frowned in concentration before he matched a face with a name. “Long wavy reddish brown hair?”
Thin, tall, thick glasses, she’d rubbed his hand while looking at him as if he dripped honey from its comb. He hadn’t wanted to offend her mom or Ryan and had remained still while she rubbed him. But when she remained silent, he backed away in spite of how much Grizzle enjoyed her touch.

“Yeah, surprised you remember since you only met her once a few years ago.” Ryan cleared his throat. “Look I know you don’t work on consults anymore but I could use your expertise to find her. She’s been gone for 12 hours and I don’t want the trail to grow cold.”

A picture of a tall, skinny, woman re-assembled in Tag’s mind like pieces of a puzzle. He and Ryan had been on their way to handle a job on a small South American island. They stopped at Ryan’s Aunt Margie’s house to pick up a bag Ryan needed. Camilla had been home from college or something. She smelled good and that trumped looks in his book. Slimmer than he preferred but he could see her leaving town with a human guy and not telling anyone. At any rate, he no longer rescued damsels in distress, too much drama.

“I’m in the middle of harvesting,” Tag said, surprising himself. If the silence on the line were any indication, he surprised Ryan as well.

“Harvesting?” Ryan sounded skeptical.

“Yeah, I have a small spread, a one-man operation, keeps me busy.” Why did he feel as if he had to explain? He didn’t.

“Is there any way you can get someone to work in your place? I really need your help on this.”

“I don’t do that kind of work anymore,” Tag growled, infusing displeasure in his voice to cover his willingness to hunt for the sake of hunting. Itching to fight, he closed his eyes and sat heavily in the chair, it creaked beneath his weight. Maybe Louie was right to be concerned.

“I know, believe me if I thought for one second I could find her on my own, or with anyone else, I would. But I can’t. The trail’s… well, it’s cold. Law enforcement isn’t doing anything other than assigning a case number to the complaint. They say we should wait, my gut says if we wait, it’ll be too long,” Ryan said.

“What do you think happened?” The lick of excitement intensified as the thrill of the hunt thrummed in his chest. He both hated and loved it.

“She was across the street at the park and someone snatched her. Can you believe that shit, right in front of her house?” Ryan said His tone matter-of-fact with an undercurrent of pain. Tag hurt for his friend. Camilla’s father and Ryan’s mom were siblings. The short time he knew Ryan, his aunt and cousin had been the only people he ever mentioned. Unlike Tag, Ryan didn’t have a large family of support.

“What do you have?” He didn’t mean to sound gruff but feeling backed into a corner, even when he wanted to cooperate, had a tendency to do that to him.

“Not a whole lot. She went for a walk in the park across the street from her place, started feeling sick, called her roommate then disappeared.” Ryan hesitated then spoke again in a low voice. “Camilla and her mom, they’re the only real family I have, the rest, well they don’t matter. I haven’t told my aunt yet, she’ll fall apart. Please, man…she’s like my sister, I gotta find her.”

The last time a female asked for help, he got played and wound up in the hospital for an overnight stay. The medication did nothing for his broken heart. Ryan wasn’t Amber and Tag’s heart wasn’t involved so finding Camilla shouldn’t be a problem on that score. The real test would be his ability to work again as a team with Grizzle.

Tag tamped down the surge of anticipation coursing through him. Older, hopefully wiser, this time he would remain in control. He had been practicing breathing exercises and meditation. Unfortunately, he never used either during real action but he would succeed. The only alternative would be to destroy his beast, which he couldn’t survive.

“Where do I meet you?” Tag asked, resigned to the hunt and to save the girl if she could be saved. He hoped for Ryan’s sake she still lived.

“West of Boulder, south of you.”

Tag was surprised. “Give me the address and I’ll be there in an hour. You call anybody else?”

Ryan rattled off the address. “Not yet but I might call in Patch if we need more gun power.”

Tag rolled the name around on his tongue. An image of a tall, muscular white male rose. A black bear who lived in the upper mountains. Tag had a run-in once over Patch’s treatment of an older bear. The man had a low moral compass in Tag’s opinion but he could shoot a tick off a dog at 100 yards.

“The name is familiar,” Tag said in a non-committal tone. This wasn’t his team and Ryan would be responsible for Patch. “What did the cops say?”

“The usual - she may be visiting a friend or ran off with a lover, they want to wait 48 hours before they do anything. The fact she was sick then disappeared doesn’t seem to make a difference… assholes.”

“Sick? I thought she was at the park?”

“She was and got sick,” Ryan said. “I’ll tell you all of it when you get here.”

“Solid, I’ll see you in a bit.” After he disconnected he went into his bedroom and stared at the huge, black metal gun safe at the rear of his walk-in closet.

As a gun-for-hire, he went in, did the job and left with no footprints. Being around humans made it harder to free Grizzle and he rarely did hand-to-hand combat. Instead he relied heavily on his sensory skills to locate prey and assist in reaching the final objective. His sense of smell was so accurate he could pinpoint and lock on anything without seeing or hearing it. Through the years, his beast had grown accustomed to the adrenaline rush accompanying a good chase.

Then the shit blew up in his face.

On the last job, Tag gave into his thirst to catch and destroy prey and lost focus when Grizzle took control. That mistake cost his team the mission and he almost lost an eye. When he realized how out of control he had been, he walked away from the call of the hunt. Withdrawal had been a bitch. Grizzle fought him daily for six months over his decision to quit. That had been two years ago.

Now he would enter the arena again for his friend. Plus, he owed the man. They both knew it. When he first started in the business eight years ago, Ryan always watched his back. He told Ryan to call on him if he ever needed him. But that was before Amber betrayed him and before he locked down his grizzly.

When he first quit the hunt, he secured all of his weapons and refused to even look at them. At least that was the plan. He broke down within the first 24 hours and cleaned each gun, rifle, blade, hammer, everything. Closing his eyes, he recalled the smell of the cleaner and the metals; it fed his beast, kept the edge off. But that didn’t last long and he finally went cold turkey, refusing to open the safe.

Lips dry, he ran his tongue over them and opened the safe. A combination of metal and Hoppes, his favorite cleaner, sent a rush of euphoria through him. Filled with excitement and a healthy dose of apprehension, he stood with the door open and took several deep breaths.

Grizzle grunted as if waking from hibernation. “
Hunt? Find prey
?”

Not ready to deal with Grizzle’s excitement, Tag grunted. With slow, loving precision, his gaze landed and kissed his rifles, semi-automatics and other equipment that would cause law officials to clutch their chests in horror. The tips of his fingers stroked the butts and muzzles softly, going from one to the other until he stopped at his .45 caliber Glock. Lifting it from its holder, he stared at it for a moment then locked the safe again.

He held the pistol at eye-level with a firm appreciation for the solid feel of the metal in his hand and the way the overhead light kissed the barrel. Closing one eye, he stretched out his hand and pointed the gun toward the picture on the wall.

“Pow,” he said and opened his eyes. Smiling, he looked at both sides of the gun, grabbed his holster and placed them both in a case. “Ryan, Ryan, Ryan,” he murmured as he grabbed a bag from the closet and tossed a change of clothes and a few toiletries in case he had to stay overnight. “Last time I hunted, I got burned. This time will be different,” he said needing to hear the words said aloud.

“
Grizzle hunt? Find prey? Grizzle fight
?” This time the question came stronger and Tag couldn’t ignore him.

“
Maybe, we hunt but not for prey. We find missing girl and take her home to our friend Ryan,”
Tag explained slowly and then waited for a response. Sometimes dealing with his beast required the skill of a master negotiator. Grizzle’s personality matched his to a certain point and according to his father they wouldn’t merge until he mated, well they would both mate. Until then Tag and Grizzle cohabitated the same body playing an interesting tug of war for dominance.