Grizzly Love (7 page)

With a screaming cry, she soared high in the sky, high enough he had to crane to see her.

The brilliant sun blinded him, and it must have blinded the gunman as well because, when Jess reappeared, rocketing from the sky as a silent missile, the idiot taking potshots at them never spotted her.

Then again, Travis might have helped with that given he was charging toward him roaring his intent.

Rawr – I’m going to tear into your soft flesh.

Rawr-rawr-rawr-ra-rawr. And then I’m going to tear off your head, shove it up your ass, stomp on you, and make you wish you’d called in sick today to your insurgent boss.

Yeah. That was an awesome grizzly plan.

Except his hawk beat him to their target.

With a caw of triumph, Jess plowed into the guy, clawed feet extended and knocked him from his perch.

With a scream, the fellow fell and landed with a crunch.

Dinner?

His bear, undaunted by the fact that they’d not gotten the kill, still wondered if they’d eat fresh. At home, he’d taught his bear to not kill wastefully, but apparently, he’d need to remind his furry side that they didn’t eat humans.

Not human. Else.

Even before they reached the robed body, his nose detected the fact that the corpse was shifter-based. And of a kind he’d never smelled before.

As if hearing his unspoken query, Gene, who’d reached the body first, said, “He’s a striped hyena. Real common for this part of the world. Dumber than shit too.”

“He’d have to be to attack us,” Brody replied as he arrived at a jog. “Was he alone?”

“Given furball over here has stopped roaring”—Gene inclined his head at Travis, who waved a paw—“and the fact Dr. Hawk, who likes to make an entrance, is perched pruning her tail feathers and probably thinking of how tasty your driver’s eyeballs are, I’d say the area is clear.”

“Only one guy? That’s not much of an attack,” Brody mused aloud.

“Less an attack and more a crime of opportunity, I’d wager. Hyenas are scavengers. Could be this one saw the lone Jeep and thought it would make an easy target.”

Jess let out a caw at that, and Travis chuffed. Easy? With Gene aboard, the guy had signed his death warrant the moment he fired the first shot.

But it did make his blood run cold to think Jess could have been hurt. Maybe killed.

It bothered him even more when she fluttered to the Humvee and shifted shapes, grabbing the clothes Layla handed her and quickly donning them.

Travis and the others quickly averted their gaze, but it burned him to note Frederick, off to the side, leaned against a boulder and smoked a cigarette, not bothering to hide the fact that he stared with a brooding expression at Jess.

Jealousy burned within, hot and bright. He didn’t even know he growled and that his fur bristled until Layla placed a hand on him and whispered, “Calm yourself, Travis. Like it or not, he’s the only one with a legal right to stare.”

He grumbled.

“I don’t like it either, but until Jess gives us permission or does something herself, we have to accept it. Or at least wait until there’s no witnesses.”

If Travis could have laughed, he would have. As it was, knowing he wasn’t alone in his contempt of the prick helped.

Once someone found him some clothes—because of course his duffel bag was in the Jeep that flew off the cliff—they were on their way, if a little crammed, in the Humvee, which could handle up to seven passengers but, given the size of the passengers, was cozy.

Yet Travis didn’t mind because on purpose, or by chance, he got to share the backseat with Jess, and when he brazenly squeezed his fingers around hers, she left them in his grip.

Best day ever.

Worse day ever.

Crammed into a vehicle, her outward appearance calm but her inner nerves quaking, Jess really doubted the wisdom of her choice in coming here. Only a few hours on the ground and she’d gone through too much turmoil.

First, she had to contend with her ugly confrontation with Freddy, and then, someone had tried to kill her. Well, not just her, the whole crew riding in the Jeep, but still, at the moment, all she could truly focus on was how close she’d come to dying.

If not for Gene’s excellent reflexes and the fact that she had wings, she’d have ended up dead. A splotch of red on jagged rocks thousands of miles from home.

And for what? Why? Because she foolishly thought confronting her husband would accomplish something. All it did was slap her in the face with the fact that her future stretched even bleaker and lonelier than expected.

The only bright light out of the day’s wretchedness? There was one person who seemed to really care if she lived or died. And surprise, it wasn’t her husband.

While Gene did his best to save her, the one who showed his true emotions was Travis. As the grizzly came barreling for the cliff, his roar and mad dash announced loudly and publicly how he felt toward her.

He cares about me.
And he wasn’t afraid to show it.

Although to be fair, while a little more vocal and blatant in his display, he wasn’t alone. Actually, all of the men of Kodiak Point showed relief that she’d survived, slapping her on the back like one of the guys. Only Layla kept her hands to herself and said, “Nice escape. What number is it?”

Jess had blinked. “What do you mean number?”

“I used to number my escapes. Mind you, mine were escapes from prison, but in your case, I think we could say an escape from death counts. I think we should call it escape #1, the Cliffside Plunge.”

“I think I’d rather skip any more escapes. I don’t know if my bird heart can handle it.” Indeed her pulse still raced from the adrenaline of the whole thing.

Yet, it stuttered even faster and more erratically when Travis took a seat beside her in the rearmost row of the Humvee and took her hand in his.

It warmed the cold spot inside her that couldn’t help but recall the disappointment on Freddie’s face when she’d soared over the precipice and landed, safe and unharmed.

Sorry, you won’t become a widower today.

Having seen his expression, she wasn’t too shocked when he muttered for her ears alone, “Almost, dear wife. Next time maybe I’ll be luckier.”

So much for a happy resolution to their situation and so much for her foolish plan to drag Freddie home as a sperm donor. Not because she couldn’t nab him—she knew enough medleys of drugs to make him compliant—more that she didn’t want him to be the father of her children.

Who wanted an asshole as a father?

She wouldn’t subject her children to that.

But that still left her with a dilemma. She was married, mated, and yet holding the hand of another man while within spitting distance of her husband.

Maybe I do have a death wish.

The danger of her action didn’t make her draw her fingers away.

The mood in the truck proved somber and quiet, although the static from the radio did fill in the silent gaps. No one spoke of what happened, not because they didn’t want to but because there was someone amongst them that didn’t belong.

Oblivious to their suspicion or choosing to ignore it, Freddie drove the truck with a single-mindedness that brooked no conversation.

Given the recent narrow escape, everyone entered an intense zone of watchfulness. Brody surreptitiously kept an eye on Freddie. Head leaned back, Layla meditated, her hair floating and her eyes closed as she probably communed with the wildlife. Gene and Boris shared the spot beside her, squished side-by-side, attempting to give her some space. Given their grim profiles, they probably plotted death and maybe a little destruction. As for Travis…

He leaned over and whispered, “I didn’t get to say this before, but your birdy has a nice tail.” It wouldn’t have sounded so wicked if he hadn’t combined his remark with a mischievous wink.

She couldn’t help the giggle, one that made her the sharp focus of their driver. In the rearview mirror, she noted his frown. Screw him.

“Your tail is a lot wider as a bear,” she teased, for once not willing to push him away, not when his fingers clasped hers in a show of affection she needed right now.

“All muscle, doc.”

Yes indeed, his human butt was at least. It wasn’t just the doctor in her that could admire his perfect musculature, but the woman really thought his ass looked good in a pair of tight jeans.

I must be more rattled than I thought to be thinking of his butt at a time like this.

The rest of the ride to the base passed without incident. They hit a perimeter security check where armed guards perused their passports and checked all their identities against a checklist. A brief overview of their incident was relayed, and they had to allow a quick check of the surviving luggage before they were waved through.

Jess’s first view of camp proved underwhelming. This wasn’t
M*A*S*H
, or some kind of television reality show. The tents, set up in neat rows, were a brownish color that practically blended in with the ground. Each was pretty much identical in size and shape, the aisles between them uncluttered. Here and there she could spot men in combat fatigues moving about, all of them armed, some of them shifters like her.

How could she tell? Some used smell to differentiate human from her kind, but Jess, as a doctor, didn’t need a scent to identify them. There was something in the way a shifter carried themselves, a certain gleam in their eye, and an invisible aura that she more sensed than saw that always let her know who she dealt with.

Given the size of the camp, she found herself surprised at the lack of soldiers milling around. Out training or in the field? She didn’t know. This whole mission was new for her. And with everything that had happened so far, not something she was apt to ever repeat.

As they weaved their way among the canvas buildings, they didn’t bump into any problems or questions. Freddie, whom they’d yet to ditch, led them to a tent and said, “Here’s your quarters.”

Without further explanation, or even a goodbye, he left.

Good riddance. A layer of tension she’d not realized gripped her, eased. With Frederick gone, she felt safer. How sad, yet true.

No one else seemed to care the raven left without giving them more instructions, although she did note that Travis wasn’t the only one glaring at her husband’s receding back. Boris kept a watchful eye too.

Brody led the way inside their temporary home. The large space was utilitarian in appearance. Eight cots, sheets folded and placed across the foot, eight small, battered chests for their belongings, and not much else.

The bags remaining to them hit the floor as they flopped onto mattresses. Fatigue, more the mental than body kind, overwhelmed her. Jess closed her eyes as she allowed emotional exhaustion to consume her for a moment.

A nap, however, wasn’t in the cards.

“You made it.” The statement was from a stranger, and Jess wasn’t alone in suddenly coming to attention to greet the man who entered the tent with a stealth she found unnerving. However, it seemed he didn’t take them all unaware. She noted Boris tucking a gun away, and Gene, alongside the tent entrance, discreetly sheathing a knife.

Good to know someone, or two, kept a watchful eye. As for Travis, no surprise, he’d placed himself between the cots, shielding her with his body.

Stupid bear. It really irritated her how kept doing stuff to show he cared. How was she supposed to remain aloof, to remind herself that not only was she—unhappily—married, but older than him to boot?

Or is it time I stopped giving myself reasons to push him away?

Something to ponder later perhaps when there wasn’t a stranger in their midst.

She eyed the newcomer. A big fellow, he wasn’t fat, but he was certainly wide. Given the wrinkled features, pure white hair cut in a short brush cut and weathered appearance overall, she put him in his late fifties or sixties. He was also dressed in uniform.

“Sarge!” Brody’s face creased in a smile at the man’s appearance. “I was wondering when I’d run into you.”

“It’s Master Sergeant now, soldier.”

“Congratulations! I hadn’t heard.”

The old man cracked a smile. “The promotion just came down from high above a few days ago. I’m getting my new bars later this week.”

“About time,” Boris said, approaching to shake the man’s hand once Brody released it.

“Perhaps, but the slow-moving cogs of the military are not why you’ve traveled a few thousand miles. According to the conversation I had with Brody and Reid, you’re here chasing a certain pesky Naga.”

“Pesky? More like pain in everyone’s fucking ass. This particular serpent has been plaguing Kodiak Point for a while now. And wouldn’t it figure when we finally managed to corner and confront it, the coward fled.”

“Fled but didn’t manage to completely wipe its tracks. You’re in luck. The one you seek is out here,” the rhino confirmed. “Even better, we have the go-head to apprehend him. We don’t need another one of those serpent types slithering around. The last one caused way too much trouble.”

“You think?” grumbled Gene. “I still can’t see a mouse or a rat without taking out a gun to blow its head off.” A reference to the time the polar bear spent imprisoned, and tortured. To say Gene still had issues was putting it mildly. Most of the men who’d spent time in the prison camp had returned damaged in some way.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad. At least the vermin provided some protein to go with our mush diet,” Brody teased.

Boris shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t see porridge without breaking into a cold sweat. You wouldn’t believe how long it took after that time in the insurgent prison before my rack regained its luster.”

As a moose, Boris had one pride and joy—other than Jan, his wife—his antlers. Jess learned early on how sensitive he was about them.

Not that Travis ever seemed to care, or as he’d said after he ended up in the emergency room after a friendly scuffle with Boris, “But, Doc, it wasn’t really my fault. I simply asked him if he’d ever thought about donating his rack to a local artist when he died, you know so they could immortalize him. Apparently he didn’t find me a-moosing.” Said with a wink and a chuckle.