Grizzly Love (18 page)

“Free hands doesn’t open cell doors,” Boris argued.

“He’s right,” Brody seconded. “Having spent months—”

“Make that well over a year,” Gene amended.

“—as a prisoner, I can attest to their solidity.”

“Who said anything about busting out?” Travis snorted. “You know, not everything is about violence and brute strength.”

Okay, so that might have been a tad funny. The laughter soon stopped once Brody exclaimed, “What the fuck?”

Ignoring the outburst, Travis concentrated on calling forth a single claw and sliced a line down his left arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brody snapped. “Now is not the time to start self-mutilation.”

“You might not know this,” Travis said as sweat beaded on his forehead and blood pooled from the cut, “but my dad, when he served in the army, was a bit of a badass spy.”

“And this is pertinent how?” Brody asked.

But Gene already guessed judging by his guffaw. “Holy fuck. The cub’s going to get us out of these cells.”

Indeed he was. From the gash in his arm, Travis withdrew a lock pick and held it up so those craning could see.

Jess gasped. “You had that buried in your arm? Are you insane?”

“Not according to my therapist, although she does think I might have mommy issues.”

“Ya think?” Snorted by Boris.

Tool freed, Travis went to work on the lock for the cell, pleased he’d managed to shock them all.

In that moment, he felt perversely close to his dead father. While his dad might not have lived long enough to truly impart all his wisdom onto his son, Travis never forgot that one lesson, taught to a young boy on his father’s knee. Years later, stuck in a prison cell, the one piece of advice he’d learned from his father would save them all.

“Son, as shifters, we have many great abilities.”

“Like eating the bad guys,” wee little Travis said as he munched on a home-baked cookie.

“Yes, we can eat the enemy and maul them something good. But the fact we can turn grizzly isn’t always the most important thing we can do. At least not in my line of work. We’re strong, Trav. Tough. We can handle pain. We heal quickly. We do what needs to be done, no matter what. These are things the enemy, especially human enemies, either don’t know or tend to forget. You can use that to your advantage.”

That advantage being burying a lock pick in his arm and letting flesh heal over it, the dull ache soon forgotten, the entry wound but a thin, faded scar. Unnoticeable, yet always close at hand. When he set off the metal detector at the airport, he claimed a pin in his arm. Not his fault they assumed a surgical one.

This trick would allow him to save their asses and rescue the woman he loved.

Click
.

The door to his cage swung open.

Boris whistled. “Boy, remind me to buy you a beer when we get back to civilization.”

“Make that a pitcher. That is the most fucked-up, yet awesome, thing I’ve seen.”

“And we’ve seen lots of shit,” Gene added.

In no time at all, the cages were open.

Much as he wanted to let Jess out first, Travis went for the guys instead, knowing if trouble arrived they were better equipped to handle it.

Freed, Boris took one end of the room, with its single door, while Gene covered the other.

Brody rifled the few crates stored in a corner, looking for clothes Travis hoped. Mounting a rescue was well and good, but he’d rather not confront the enemy with his man parts dangling. He could have donned the robe again; however, it chafed his skin.
Someone forgot to use fabric softener.

Last freed, and yet she didn’t complain. Jess threw herself at him for a hug, which surprised and pleased him. At least she wasn’t hiding their change in status from everyone.

As she gave him a squeeze, she whispered, “You’re nuts.”

“What about my nuts? They’re still intact in case you’re worried. Although feel free to check them later for injury.”

She sighed. “What am I doing to do with you and your mouth?”

No way could he have stopped his laughter if he tried. “Oh, you did not just say that. I can think of lots of things we can
do,
lots of them with my mouth.”

“Travis!” Funny how people could achieve a certain pitch when saying his name. Of course, when Jess did, all blushed and flushed, it was the hottest thing ever.

“If you two are done making me want to gouge out my own eyes,” Gene grumbled, “then can we get this fucking show on the road. Bear boy here gave us a head start on our timeframe. I say we use it and sock it to as many assholes as we can.”

“Eager to get back to Vicky?”

“Damned straight I am. My clumsy Pima needs me.” Said with pride.

Just don’t comment on it. Travis learned that not long after Gene’s arrival in Kodiak Point. But he didn’t mind those few days of eating through a straw because, while his jaw healed, he got to spend time with Jess at the medical clinic.

“So given we’re changing the plan, do we opt for stealth or balls-out attack?” Brody asked.

As if there was any question.

Guess I won’t need clothes after all.

The excitement exuded by a bunch of over-testosteroned males, jacked up on adrenaline, proved contagious to even the usually overly cautious Jess.
They’re not the only ones in the mood to kick some ass.
She also had a score to settle.
Watch out, Freddie, because I am coming for you.

While Travis, Gene, and Brody shifted into their deadly animals—a grizzly, polar bear and timer wolf,
who all walk into a dungeon and ensure no one leaves alive
—Jess and Boris—whose moose shape did better in open spaces—grabbed what they could for a weapon.

Having watched
The
Walking Dead
, Jess was quite pleased with her choice of a crowbar, which she located in a crate along with some other discarded tools. The shears at the bottom did tempt—she knew someone who could use a eunuch cut; however, she wanted to kill, not maim, her treacherous husband.

Eschewing the tools, Boris opted for a board that he tore free from the crate. The rusty nails hanging out of the end of it made her mind wander for a moment—
when I get back I should check on our tetanus stock for the non-shifters in our community.

When I get back?

It surprised her to note that her earlier pessimism seemed to have dissipated. Sure, some of it had to do with the fact that they’d rejoined the others, safety in numbers and all. Yet more of her optimism came from her growing trust in Travis. At times he might make inappropriate jokes, and get hurt a lot, but there was a smart guy under all the clowning around. A smart, wily, and sexy guy.
A guy’s who is mine.

Or would be once she hunted down dear Freddie and made herself a widow.

Exiting their prison, they came across their first adversary, a human armed with a gun and a cell phone, head bent over the screen, the tinny speaker playing a ditty she recognized. The gaming fellow barely had time to look up and mutter “shit” before Brody lunged, taking him out. There was one Candy Crush addict who would never see what new hair-pulling madness the obsessive app would have for him beyond level 417.
If it’s any consolation, you would have gotten stuck on level 421 not long after.

One guard down, they peeked around for another. And found nothing. One measly human was the extent of the security outside their prison, which she found totally surprising.

She said as much to Boris. “Where are all the soldiers?”

The big man glanced around, and his brow knit into an impressive frown, which ridiculously enough made her want to giggle. Why? It certainly wasn’t hysteria or fear, not yet at any rate. More the fact that the scowl drew Boris’ eyebrows together and she could almost hear Travis quip, “Hey, Boris, you’ve got a furry caterpillar inching across your face.”

I’ve got it so bad.
Even when he wore his bear and couldn’t speak, she could practically predict what Travis would say. Scarier, she almost said it aloud herself.
Could you imagine Boris’ face if I did?
She bit her lip so as to not giggle.

Boris gave his assessment. “Could be that most of the soldiers went back to the military camp. One or two fellows going AWOL is one thing but a whole battalion of them suddenly vanishing isn’t something the higher-ups can ignore. If the Sarge wants to keep his treachery secret, he’ll have to maintain a façade.”

“That’s good news for us then,” she stated.

The big man rolled his shoulders, a shrug that neither confirmed nor denied. “Only if I’m right.”

“And if not?” she asked.

Was it her or did Boris’ creepy smile and grunted, “Fun times,” not prove reassuring? Even more uncanny was she could have sworn the bears and wolf grinned too. Not physically possible given their muzzles, and yet, they definitely seemed chipper as they bounded and lumbered down the rock-hewn hall.

At first she thought they wandered the honeycombed mountain aimlessly, killing the occasional idiot in their path. Idiots because they saw them coming and didn’t do the smart thing and run. Then again, running wouldn’t technically save them.

While Brody and Gene entertained themselves swapping kills, poor Travis grumbled at the rear. It didn’t take a genius to guess her grizzly bear wanted in on the action.

As did Boris, who rearmed himself along the way with weapons he stripped from the bodies. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a gun?” he asked as he pulled the revolver free of the holster of their latest victim.

“Am I the only one uncomfortable with the idea of shooting bullets while inside a mountain? I mean how do we know this place is structurally sound? For all we know, just a single shot could start a chain reaction that dumps hundreds of tons of rock on top of us.”

“And I thought I was the pessimist in the group,” Boris stated.

“Not pessimist—”

“—practical, I know.” The big man rolled his eyes. “Well, Miss Practical, you hold on to your precious crowbar. I’m sure it will come in handy against guns.”

“No, but using you as a shield will,” she muttered.

To her surprise, Boris didn’t take offence. He laughed. “That’s more like it. But really, if you’re going to use anyone as a body shield, I’d go with Travis’ fat, furry ass. He’s wider than me. He’ll provide more coverage.”

Indeed her bear was big, his massive grizzly shape wide enough that there were spots she feared he wouldn’t squeeze through. But he did, and he provided moral support to a woman more used to dealing with the aftermath of danger than participating in it.

Whenever her breathing grew short, or she hesitated at a particularly oppressive spot—
please don’t cave in now—
he would nudge her with his nose or butt her with his head. She found lacing her fingers through his fur and aimlessly scratching him behind the ears calmed her.

He calmed her, and made her feel safe.

It seemed like hours, but was probably only fifteen minutes or so, when she realized their meandering had a purpose and direction. They weren’t just aimlessly wandering.

She spoke her conclusion aloud. “We’re going after Layla.” Which was probably a good idea, given one, she was Jess’ friend and two, having Layla on their side would totally tilt the scales of this fight in their favor.

Then again, recalling a certain movie where a giant serpent tunneled from the ground and swallowed people whole made her wonder if, perhaps, Layla’s powers were best left untouched.
Or I should stop watching horror movies even if I do love Kevin Bacon.

“Where Layla is, I’ll bet we find the Naga,” Boris commented.

“Which is all well and good, but how do you plan to prevent his ability to control people with his voice?”

Boris never did get a chance to answer, as a door opened and a startled soldier stepped out.

And died without a scream.

So far they’d enjoyed unbelievable luck. Jess didn’t like it.

“This is too easy.”

“Yup,” was Boris’ one-syllable reply.

Nice to know she wasn’t alone in thinking it, but it did lead to another question. “Should we be expecting another ambush?” Which seemed stupid. Why enable them to escape only to attack them again?

Then again, not much of the snake’s actions made sense. Why take them prisoner in the first place? Why not kill them? The bad guys held the upper hand in the ambush. As they were incapacitated, they could have easily slit their throats or worse. Yet, instead, they’d awoken in a cage. To what purpose?

As they walked, the raucous sound of men gathered came to them. It grew louder as they kept following the hallway until it sounded as if they were almost on top of it. Forget seeing anything, though. The tunnel curved just enough that they couldn’t see around the bend.

Did they take the smart route and send one person ahead to scout things out?

These guys? Ha.

They apparently never learned the word cautious. With just a glance between them, Brody and Gene took off at a lope, the hallway here wide enough to accommodate them. Right behind was Boris, a gun in each hand, a happy grin on his face. And was it her, or did he mutter, “About fucking time I got some action.”

Poor Travis, he let out a pitiful whine but plopped his ass beside her when she stopped moving. Self-preservation demanded she not go charging into an unknown situation. Her inertia seemed to affect poor Travis, who stayed with her as a guard.

However, he couldn’t hide his misery or longing look.

“You can’t tell me you want to go out there?” she asked as snarls and yells filled the air.

The look he gave her said, “Duh!”

She shook her head. “Of course you want to get in on the action. You’re a man.” A man she loved. A man who didn’t need to prove anything and, yet, felt like he had to. Wanted to.

Jess couldn’t deny him that. She wasn’t his mother to try and mollycoddle him and keep him safe. She just had to trust he could take care of himself and come back to her—so she could stitch him back together and berate him for being an idiot.

“Go.” She waved a hand toward the unfolding sounds of chaos. “Go and help them.”