Grizzly Love (6 page)

Keeping a secret like that in close confines had to be challenging. She’d have asked the polar bear beside her, but she didn’t know him too well.

While she’d met her companion, Gene, before at the clinic briefly, she’d never spoken much with him, although she was well acquainted with his human mate, Vicky, a timid girl who turned fierce if she thought her polar bear was being disparaged.

So given their lack of acquaintance she was surprised when he leaned close to say, “You know, I could solve your problem and make it look like an accident.”

“Why does everyone keep offering to make me a widow?” she muttered.

“Because we’re not stupid.”

“Or bothered by manners.”

“I don’t think you need me to tell you that your hubby is an asshole.”

“I think everyone at this point is well aware of that.”

“I think what we don’t get is why you don’t just divorce him. Actually, I should say, the women don’t get it. Us guys think you should just slit his throat and toss him in to a deep, dark pit.”

“Hawks mate for life.”

“Why?”

She blinked at his question. “What do you mean why? It’s just how it is.”

“Says who? I mean, if you decide to throw the bum out on his ear, are you going to get hit by lightning?”

“No.” Or so she assumed.

“Will you drop dead?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Is there like some secret Red Hawk league that will send assassins after you?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well yeah. Nothing like a little deadly intrigue to keep a guy on his toes you know.”

“Are you off your meds?”

Gene shot her a smile, which, given his scarred face and the amount of tooth, was less than reassuring. “I don’t take pills, doc. Especially not ones a shrink recommends. I’m just naturally charming.”

“Lucky Vicky.”

“Fucking straight. But seriously, why can’t you unmate the prick?”

“I don’t know. Because of something in my DNA.” She honestly couldn’t answer it. Oddly enough, she’d never questioned it because it was just one of those things that was taken for granted. The sun came up every day. Eli got drunk and streaked down Main Street every Halloween bellowing he was the ghost of his granddad. And red-tailed hawks mated for life.

“DNA deciding who you stay with? That’s the biggest load of crap I ever heard.”

Exasperated at his questions, and even more with the fact that he made her question a lifetime of doctrine, she snapped, “Why do you care? You’re already hooked up. Why do you give a damn?”

“One, anyone can see you’re getting fucked over. Two, I didn’t like your husband. He smells off. And three, Vicky told me to do something about it. I’d hate to disappoint her.”

Where was a wall or a desk for her to bang her head against when she needed one? “Well, thank Vicky for me, but, for now, let’s not kill Freddy.” Because if anyone was going to peck his eyes out or shove him off a cliff, it was her.

Because then I can get on with my life.

With Travis.

No, not Travis. Let’s try not jumping from one situation to another.

Why?

Why indeed. Because for one, he was about four or five years younger than her.

But given his antics he could use a firm hand to keep him in line. Besides, he doesn’t seem to care about the tiny age gap.

Travis was misguided. Tempted by the forbidden. He just thought he wanted her because she kept rejecting him.

Which is why he’s spent three years chasing me.

And not dating.

Travis had spent the last couple of years single. While she’d caught glimpses of him smiling, flirting—and driving her insane with jealousy—she’d never once actually seen him hook up with someone. And in a town their size, she’d know.

He’s been truer to me than my own husband.

Husband. Ha.

Funny how she could use that term in regards to Freddy and not feel a damned thing. Nothing. He was a stranger to her.

Worse than a stranger, she didn’t like him. Not one bit.

If, she, the girl who once knew and loved him, couldn’t stand him, was it any wonder the people she traveled with wanted to kill him?

“Duck!”

Jess didn’t have time to ask why as Gene shoved her head down. The crack of gunfire sounded only a second after.

“Someone’s shooting at us?” she said, flabbergasted.

“Yup,” was Gene’s loquacious reply. Then again, why waste time explaining the obvious when he could slide his hand between the seats to snag the pistol of the soldier in the front?

“Hey,” the young recruit exclaimed. His last words as it turned out because, a moment later, he slumped sideways, and the coppery scent of flood filled the rushing air.

“Hold on.” The Jeep swerved as the driver did his best to make them less of a target.

“Excellent. Now we’re talking a challenge,” Gene enthused, aiming his gun at the rocky hillocks lining the road, a hundred or so yards out.

She wondered at his target until she saw the glint of sunlight off something metal.

Bang
!

A moment later, their driver keeled forward, his face smashing onto the steering wheel and the horn.

The loud blaring, though, wasn’t as worrisome as the fact that his foot still pressed on the gas, but with no active hands steering, they careened out of control.

“Shit,” Gene cursed. “I’m going to unbuckle the driver and shove him out. Get ready to climb into his seat and drive.”

“Are you fucking nuts? Wait, what am I asking? I saw the reports. You are,” she muttered to herself in an attempt to calm her nerves.

“Now.”

Gene no sooner hit the seat belt trigger than he was grabbing the limp body and tossing him out of the Jeep. The lack of pressure on the gas meant they began to slow, but not quick enough, and time was of essence, because, if she wasn’t mistaken, straight ahead of them was a cliff.

Jess dove between the seats and scrambled to seat herself in the driver’s spot.

In the back, she heard the
pop, pop, pop
as Gene fired at their assailant.

Pumping the brake, she attempted to slow their mad momentum while at the same time angling them away from the steep edge.

Neither action gave her the desired response.

The brake lowered to the floor without any pressure, and the steering wheel spun uselessly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Gene shouted. “Stop the Jeep.”

“I can’t, they’re not working,” she yelled in reply. “Jump.”

He did. Obeying without question, trusting her assessment.

How’s it look, Doc?

Dire.

She would have followed Gene, except the vehicle hit a rock, and for a second, she was airborne, unnaturally and unexpectedly. Her head rapped the roll bar overhead and split the skin of her temple.

Warm blood gushed down part of her face, and she shook her head, dazed by the impact.

Not a severe injury, yet the incident cost her precious time. There was no time left. No chance for her to jump safely—if roadrashed and bruised—to the ground.

The Jeep shot off the cliff and, for a moment, hung suspended in the air before it plummeted, her still in it.

The tension in the Humvee didn’t lessen with the miles. Nor did conversation flow. A stagnant silence permeated the cabin, the fault of their driver who tight-fisted his steering wheel and glared out the windshield.

The brilliant idea Travis had gotten to ride with the raven now cloyed. The myriad scents bothered his bear, as did the close confines of the vehicle. His beast paced the confines of his mind, snuffling and anxious, projecting an aura of danger, which Travis surmised arose because of his own inherent dislike of their driver.

Determined to hate Frederick on principal, after meeting the jerk, he now just hated him plain and simple. Even were he not mated to Jess, the guy would have grated on his nerves. Just like he irritated Brody, who kept a wary eye on him, and Boris, who idly toyed with a knife—which he’d acquired from who knew where. As for Layla, she appeared at rest with her eyes closed, but somehow Travis doubted she slept. More than likely she attempted to communicate with some of the wildlife around them. Although how she managed that from a moving vehicle, he wouldn’t hazard to guess.

The Jeep, with the other members of their merry band, had pulled ahead of the Humvee, far enough that Travis couldn’t discern Jess’s red hair, not through the plume of dust they left in their wake.

Yet, neither the cloud of particles nor their closed and almost soundproof cabin could mask the crack of someone shooting.

Spines instantly straightened, gazes turned to the nearest windows as they peered about, seeking the source.

Only their driver seemed unconcerned. His trajectory never wavering.

“That’s gunfire. Is someone aiming at us?” Brody asked, one hand braced on the dash as he craned forward straining to see.

“Negative,” Boris replied. “The shots appear to be coming from up ahead.”

It didn’t take a genius to grasp the implication.

Someone is shooting at the Jeep. Jess!

“Fuck, and them without a cover. And I can’t see a goddamned thing. Master Corporal, can you radio the Jeep and see if they’re okay?” Brody asked Frederick.

“Try the walkie-talkie. It’s in the console between the seats.”

As Brody dug it out, Boris sheathed his knife.

“I need a gun,” Boris stated.

The words Travis never thought to hear from the moose made Travis blurt out, “You’re not armed? Since when do you not carry a gun?”

“Since you can’t board a fucking aircraft with a bloody nail file.”

“But you have a knife.”

“A knife I borrowed when I used the men’s room at the airstrip. Some local thought he could intimidate me. I taught him otherwise.”

“How come we don’t have guns?” Travis mused aloud. “I thought the military was supposed to be helping us.”

“Because pinhead here didn’t think to bring us any.” Boris glared.

Frederick didn’t even bother to give a glance as he replied, “I’m not authorized to—”

At his repeated standard answer, Brody growled. “Yeah, we get that, and I have to say it’s mighty convenient, for the enemy I might add, that you’re claiming that.”

“Are you accusing me of being a traitor?”

“Nope. Just saying it’s mighty suspicious that not only were we not armed as expected upon arrival, but now we’re under attack.”

Without a word, the corporal withdrew his sidearm—almost died as Boris lunged forward in reaction—and handed the gun to Boris.

The moose grasped it and leaned back, his deadly instinct restrained for the moment, but Travis could still sense the suspicion. “That’s better, birdman. Maybe I won’t pluck you for dinner today.”

A shame. It would have solved a few problems.

“What about weapons for the rest of us?” Brody asked.

To his surprise, Frederick jerked a thumb at the rear. “We keep a few spare guns and ammo in the back.”

“Travis, grab them, would you?”

Easier said than done. He humped himself over the top of the seat and dropped into the back with their luggage. Buried under their bags, he found a locked case.

Ha, as if that puny padlock could stop him. His bear had broken tougher things than that before in pursuit of a prank. Grasping the metal in a fist, he crushed it and popped it open. He flung the hunk of metal to the side and opened the metal coffer.

“It’s empty.”

Before they could process this unexpected setback, they came across a shocking scene.

They’d caught up to the Jeep, in a sense. The open-top vehicle careened wildly, off the road to their left. As Travis watched, he saw a body go flying from it and a distinctive redhead climb over the seats, dropping into the driver seat. Gene stood in the back, one arm looped around the oh shit bar while his free hand leveled a gun toward a hilly area rife with hiding spots.

The distinctive sound of more shots firing filled Travis with cold dread.

Layla uttered a gasp, and Travis gaped as Gene suddenly leapt from the moving vehicle, only to whisper under his breath, “No,” as he noted the reason why.

A cliff loomed ahead. A cliff the Jeep couldn’t avoid.

Off it flew. The vehicle hung suspended in the air, its wheels spinning uselessly, going nowhere but down.

With Jess still sitting in it.

Rawr!

Given the danger to Jess, he couldn’t have controlled his bear if he tried.

He burst free from his skin, nails and hair sprouting with ridiculous speed, the pain of the shift masked by his fear-induced adrenaline. Problem was, large as the Humvee was, given the luggage and the tight area, it confined him.

Not for long. With a roar, he barreled out the back of the Humvee, the rear hatch no match for a determined grizzly.

On four paws, his claws gripping the hard-packed dirt and rocky surface, he tore toward the cliff’s edge, passing Gene, who barked at him to take cover because bullets still hit the ground, their impact creating puffs of dust.

But Travis couldn’t slow his mad dash.

Jess went over a cliff.

Jess. Went. Over. A. Fucking. Cliff
!

The scene replayed itself over and over along with the word he wanted to deny but couldn’t help repeating.

Dead. Dead. Dead
. No one could survive a drop like that. No human body, not even a shifter, could withstand that kind of impact.

Unless that shifter had wings.

A pissed off
kree
sound rose from the chasm. Travis skidded to a halt, mere feet from the edge just as a massive bird flapped its wings and rose from the abyss.

Jess.

While he’d never before seen her in her bird shape—the avian species really restricted when it came to shifting because, while the other shifters in their animal shape could pass human detection, massive birds couldn’t—-there was no denying the giant hawk before him with her glorious plumage of brown and white, which ended in a red tail, was Jess. It didn’t take her strident shriek or the angry glint in her eye for him to perceive she was pissed.

Who could blame her? Travis wasn’t exactly a friendly-feeling Yogi at the moment either.