Call of the Cougar (Heart of the Cougar Book 2) (2 page)

Tracey smiled, waved, and continued driving toward the ghost town and past two abandoned hovels from the same time period, miners' houses, where kids partied when they weren't supposed to. She and her twin sister, Jessie, had explored the old ghost town as teens when they were old enough to drive and loved to fool around in the old buildings, acting like they had time-traveled to the past.

She always thought about it in a good way because of all the fun they'd have, even shifting into their cougar forms and climbing the rocky cliffs to investigate the miners' houses clinging to the mountain. She hated to think traffickers were using it for their criminal activities now.

She reached the spot where she couldn't drive any further, the area surrounded by pinyon pines, junipers, and blue spruce, all dusted in white snow. She climbed out of her Hummer, grabbed her field pack, and locked up the vehicle, the bitter cold wind slicing right through her. She thought of how much warmer she'd be as a big cat. Or back home. She was often driven to catch the bad guys, but she wondered if Bill had been right. Not that she should wait a week to check on this, but at least she could have taken New Year's Day off.

Then again, she wouldn't have been able to stop thinking about it.

The scenery was beautiful, the trees and shrubs covered in white powder and encroaching on the path as she trudged through the four inches of snow, careful not to twist an ankle on the badly rutted trail.

After hiking three miles, she finally reached the ghost town. At one time, it had boasted a population of two-thousand residents—women, children, but mostly men—during the height of the prospecting business. She couldn't even imagine all the goings-on that had to have occurred here before, when now all she heard was the sound of the wind whistling through the town.

All of the wooden buildings were boarded up: two hotels, a school, two churches, four saloons, three dance halls, two gambling halls, and two parlor houses. She wondered what the people back then would have been doing on New Year's Day.

She took a deep breath of the snow-chilled air and began methodically checking the first of the buildings—a church, like the rest of the wooden structures, built in the early 1800's. Specifically, she was searching for any recent sign of breaking and entering, indicating someone might have used any of the buildings for illegal business.

After inspecting the first three buildings and finding no sign of forced entry, she discovered a loose board over a window at the old schoolhouse, the glass broken out long ago.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the snow. She shivered from the cold, then readied her lantern, helmet, and headlamp. She climbed into the dark building, lit only by her headlamp and her lantern.

Inside the schoolhouse, she hesitated, listening to any sign of movement. Even the mice or rats or other varmints wouldn't be out this winter's day.

Her heart was thumping loud in her ears, the thrill of a potential find nearby, she hoped, as she began to search the bare wooden floors for any sign of footprints—when she saw dozens, or the same people had trekked back and forth across the dusty floors. Recent, too. Or new layers of dust would have covered them.

Then she heard movement outside. She pulled out her Glock and hurried to the window. She looked between the slatted boards, forgetting she had the damn headlamp on. Then she saw her partner, Bill, following her trail of footprints in the snow. He was frowning at her, his dark hair windswept, and his dark eyes narrowed because of the biting wind blowing his way.

"Way to go, Whittington. Good thing I wasn't one of the bad guys."

He was referring to her headlamp, shining through the slats over the window.

But she was pleased for the company, even as grumpy as her partner appeared to be. "Glad you could make it."

"Yeah, well, hell, I figured I'd be forced to retire early if I didn't watch your ass and you got it shot off. Did you find anything? Or should we have waited until the end of the week, like I said."

Which meant he was right and she was wrong. She could watch a movie anytime, but finding evidence to put these guys away? She couldn't risk losing the opportunity.

"Someone has accessed this schoolhouse recently and could have hidden something here. I haven't found anything yet. They could have been using another building to store stuff. The first few were all sealed up tight."

Bill pulled back the board and climbed inside. "You can be a real pain in the ass, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. But you didn't have to come. I was fine." And she had been the last couple of times too, when he'd had one of these mid-life—or whatever they were—crises again, and she had found evidence on her own, letting on to their boss that she hadn't been alone, covering Bill's ass. She'd felt sorry for him at the time. But maybe early retirement wouldn't be such a bad thing for him after all. His heart just wasn't in the business of catching these guys any longer.

When he moved closer to her location, he looked bleary-eyed, and she got a heavy whiff of the pungent smell of bourbon on his breath. She wanted to shake her head. He should never have driven here. She doubted she could talk him into allowing her to drive him home. Especially when they'd have to leave his Humvee out here in the boonies and risk having it stolen or vandalized.

He took a seat on an old wooden crate, making it creak. It was the only piece of "furnishing" in the building. She turned away from him, wondering why he was here in the first place. Then she began to search the floorboards, looking for any that might be loose, making for the perfect hiding spot.

Bill stayed where he was. He leaned against a wooden pillar, looking like he was about to go to sleep when she found a loose board.

With the discovery, she felt her heart beating a little faster. She set her lantern down and found a finger hold to lift the dusty floor board and peered into the cavernous hole. Perfect in the summer for a nest of rattlesnakes to escape the noonday sun. There, she witnessed the imprint in the dry soil of several elephant-size tusks.

Outside the building, rapid footfalls headed in the direction of the schoolhouse.

She whipped around to see a rifle pointed through the wooden slats of another broken out window. "Get down!" she shouted to Bill.

Getting out of the shooter's line of sight, she dashed for the window that she and Bill had entered. They were sitting ducks inside the schoolhouse.

Shots were fired. In slow motion, Bill barely stood before he collapsed on the floor.

Oh God, no!

She quickly put out her lantern light and head lamp, casting the schoolhouse into relative darkness. She heard the footfalls running for another window so whoever the shooter was could get a bead on her. She shoved the board over the window aside and looked out. No one. She quickly climbed out through the window, the sun setting, but it was still much lighter outside than inside the boarded-up building, the snow making it that much brighter. She headed around the building, listening for heavy breathing, footfalls, talking, anything.

Two sets of footfalls sounded, one coming around the schoolhouse from the north and another from the south side of the building. She was going to be in the middle of a shootout.

Praying Bill would make it, she couldn't quit thinking about him. For now, she had to draw the gunmen away, and she had to stop them before they killed her and finished off Bill.

She raced to the next building over, wishing she was in her cougar form so she could spring and attack. Though even at that, she would only be able to take down one man at a time.

A shot was fired. Instinctively, she ducked. To her surprise, a man cursed a blue moon on the south side of the schoolhouse.

The one on the north side poked his head around the corner of the schoolhouse, and she fired three shots at him, splintering wood on the corner of the building as he fell back. Then she headed for where the other man must have been hit. Bill had to have fired at him from inside the schoolhouse, which gave her hope that he'd be all right.

She reached the front of the building and saw a trail of blood. The gunman had been wounded. Good. But not fatally, or he wouldn't have gotten away.

She needed to get the other man. The uninjured one. Though both could be just as great a danger to her and her partner.

She peered around the side of the schoolhouse and saw the uninjured man heading for her. She fired several shots—stomach, chest, heart. Yet the man still managed to raise his gun to fire at her, and she dove behind the building. Rounds pinged off the edge of the wooden schoolhouse.

Her heart racing, she sucked in cold breaths of air. She listened, hoping to hell the two men would collapse, unable to shoot anyone any further, and she could see to Bill.

But it made her think of what her boss had told her once—how some men could take a lot of rounds and still kill someone before they went down for good. He'd learned that from real life experience. She couldn't chance making a mistake when she was outnumbered at least two to one, if the other man wasn't down for good.

She heard footfalls from the east and realized someone
else
was coming. The man she had shot had to be gravely wounded. The one that Bill must have hit, might have a minor injury, she couldn't be sure. Now, there was
another
? She couldn't hope that it was someone who would be on the agents' side.

"Where are they?" a man growled on the other side of one of the hotels.

"The woman's outside of the schoolhouse," one of the men gritted out, sounding like he was in pain. "The other agent is inside the schoolhouse. He has to be dead. I got him, but damn if he didn't graze me."

The gunman wasn't badly wounded then.
Damn it.

"Where's Crowley?"

"He's badly wounded near the saloon."

"
Shit.
Which side of the schoolhouse was the woman on?"

"She was on the east side, but she could have moved by now."

She leaned her back against the north side of the hotel to steady her nerves. Then she came around the edge of the building, staying close to the wall before either man could move from their location at the end of the hotel. Running as quietly as she could on top of the soft snow, thankful that she could hear them with her enhanced hearing, while they couldn't hear her, she reached the corner of the hotel. She peered around the edge to ready a shot.

Dressed in an olive green parka, blue jeans, and cowboy boots, a blond man was holding his arm against his body, dripping blood all over the pristine snow while he was watching in the direction of the schoolhouse. He was a big man and she suspected it would require a lot of firepower and well-aimed shots to take him down. The other was dark-haired, blue eyes, and he was wearing a gray parka, blue jeans, and snow boots. She wondered where he'd been all this time while his buddies were involved in the shootout. The barely wounded man's parka sleeve was covered in blood. He appeared to be getting ready to move around to the front of the hotel away from her.

She needed a better angle, but as soon as she came out into the open, she'd have two guns blazing at her.

She had to take the chance. If either man reached the schoolhouse—if Bill was still alive—they could finish him off, wait for her to make an appearance, and kill her.

She came out from behind the building, fired several rounds at the two men, hoping to hell she hit some vital spots. With her cat reflexes, she dove behind the building while they leaped for cover and shot back at her. Their response was too late. She had already raced to the west side of the schoolhouse in case they hadn't been wounded enough and came after her.

She came around the end of the building to see the badly wounded gunman she had shot earlier propped against the wall of one of the saloons, his brown parka wearing a dark wet spot in the center of his chest, the snow beside him soaking up some of the blood. As soon as he saw her, his eyes widened a little. He raised his gun to shoot her, but his reaction was way too slow.
Damn it.
She wanted to take him alive.

She had no choice. Too many to still battle it out with.

Signaling her position—which irked her to the max—she shot him in the forehead. He fell over and planted his body sideways in the snow. Her heart thundering in her ears, she ran around the opposite side of the saloon before the other men came for her, and waited.

Her breathing still accelerated, she hated the waiting. When she didn't hear anyone coming, she hoped that meant her shots had injured the remaining two men badly enough that they had collapsed like this man had done.

But every minute meant her own partner could be dying. If she were wounded, she had the ability to heal faster than humans could, but her partner was strictly human.

She pulled out her phone. No reception.
Great.

She peered around the saloon. She saw only the wooden buildings and snow caught up in the wind, making it look like a snow globe that had been shaken to scatter the snowflakes in the air.

No one was moving about anywhere. Then again, they could have left already, and she wouldn't have heard them because of her own footfalls, heavy breathing, and shooting.

She couldn't wait. Her heart pumping furiously, she crept as quietly as she could. She hated to be between buildings with nothing to duck behind. She finally reached the schoolhouse again, no one on the other side there. One more building to reach and peer around. Fingers crossed that the two men were lying in the snow bleeding out.

She held her breath, knowing as soon as she peeked around the corner, they could both be aiming for her, and she'd be dead.

Listening for heavy breathing, groans, or any other kind of movement that would indicate they were both still there, she closed her eyes and concentrated.

Nothing.

She peered around the church. The two men were gone. Red blood stained the white snow, and footprints and bloodied spots on the snow led away from the town.