Grizzly Love (11 page)

“Getting a black eye, fat lip, who knows how many bruises on your ribs, is improvement? I don’t buy it. No man lets himself get beaten to a pulp for any reason.”

“I do. And I’m glad I did because, while I don’t know what Brody spotted, I learned a few things.”

“Such as the taste of sand?” By insulting him, she hoped to fight his allure, an allure that multiplied the more she dabbed at the blood on his skin.

As she wiped the traces of battle from him, she couldn’t help but note the things she tried to ignore. The smoothness of his flesh. The firmness of his muscle. Even the smell of sweat didn’t bother her. On the contrary, she fought a temptation to lick his skin to taste the salt.

“Ma always said dirt might not taste good, but sometimes it did a boy good to get a mouthful of it, for the vitamins you know.” He said it with complete seriousness.

“Travis, you do realize your mother was just trying to make you feel better because someone beat the hell out of you.”

He winked at her. “Of course I know that. But guess what? It did me good. In the end, all those face rubs in the dirt made me determined to get stronger. You might find this hard to believe, but I used to be a runt of a cub. Shortest and scrawniest of my age group. So you can imagine what happened at school. One day, I decided that just because someone picks on me it doesn’t make me weak. I was just untrained. Not having a dad around, I didn’t get the same benefit the other boys did. I needed to create ways and scenarios where I could sponge some fatherly advice.”

His admission captivated her. How lonely for him growing up. She’d had two parents. Still did. They lived out on the east Canadian coast, in Halifax, Nova Scotia. She saw them a few times a year and spoke every other week to them on the phone. But Travis? He had only his mother, a woman who could cook up a storm but knew nothing about training a grizzly cub to become a predator, or a man.

“What about the other dads? Surely there were a few to help a kid out?”

“You have met my mother, right?” Asked with a wry query.

“Yeah.” Betty-Sue was a true matron and ferocious mama bear.

“I love Ma, but she scares the shit out of a lot of the men. None of them dared take me under their paw, lest they incur her wrath.”

“And yet she allowed you to get picked on as a kid? That doesn’t make sense.”

“She might seem scary—”

Jess arched a brow.

He laughed. “Okay really scary, but in her defense, she wanted to do her best by me, which meant letting me fight my own battles. When I’d come home a little banged up, she’d wipe off my wounds, feed me some freshly baked cookies, and say, ‘What did you learn this time?’ I’d tell her, and then she’d kiss my booboos better.”

He gave her a hopeful look.

She ducked her head.
Must not give in. Ignore the big bear eyes. Ignore the hot stud’s body. Keep your mind on the job.
And no, that job didn’t involve stripping his pants off and making sure all of his organs were functioning. “Seems a little rough,” she replied, wiping at a scratch on his upper pec.

“I guess, but it worked. I think. At least it’s how I taught myself the skills other boys get from their dads.”

She wrinkled her nose. “My dad taught me how to swap out bedpans and sew gashes with tight stitches.”

“Just like my ma taught me my manners and the difference between a ma who’s happy I remembered to wipe my muddy paws and a ma who isn’t afraid to paddle me with a wooden spoon until I remember. Experience, good or bad, teaches us. Especially when it’s bad.”

“Meaning?” Because she couldn’t help but think he was talking something deeper.

“Meaning that you don’t need to repeat mistakes. Oh and that you can only win with boldness.”

Boldness such as stealing a forbidden kiss.

One long overdue.

His lips pressed against hers, not demanding, but not too shy either. With slowness and sensuality, he embraced her. A thrill of excitement hummed through all her nerves.

Molten blood pumped through her veins, heating her body, bringing it to life.

The beat of her heart quickened, arousing her senses.

Caught by surprise, her breath caught, afraid to inhale or exhale because each involved a level of intimacy she didn’t know if she could handle.

Forget handle. She craved.

As his lips claimed hers softly, she couldn’t help but melt. How long since she’d imagined this? How long had she wanted someone to touch her? To bring her alive? To remind her what it meant to be a woman, a woman with needs, wanted by a man who desired her?

I’m tired of waiting and wanting and feeling guilty.

Time to be selfish.

She kissed him back, and she could have sworn the heat between them burst into molten flames.

As his hand cupped the back of her head, cradling it in his palm, her own fingers tangled in the locks of his hair, drawing him closer, inhaling his breath and moaning as he captured hers.

His groan of enjoyment sent a shiver through her, but it was the holler of an outside voice that dumped a bucket of cold reality on her.

“Private, we need another man on the west perimeter.”

“Yes, sir.”

The intruding voices of strangers snapped her free of the moment and brought clarity back.

What am I doing? I’m a married woman.

Unhappily.

No matter. Nor did it matter Freddie held their vows in contempt. She wasn’t the type of woman to forsake her word, or her mate.

Yet I did only a moment ago.

Travis might have initiated the kiss, but she did nothing to stop it. Never once felt an ounce of shame or repugnance. Even now, she yearned to draw him back to her. To do something wrong. Selfish. But oh so pleasurable.

Wrong.

Right.

Who cared? Who’d stop her?

Fuck it. As he looked at her questioningly, for once not speaking but waiting, all his hopes and desires—a desire for her—shining in his eyes, she chose to please herself.

Oh god, it’s about time.

She’d spent years unfulfilled and yearning for this moment. Damned if she’d let a piece of paper that meant nothing but misery dictate what she could or shouldn’t do.

At their renewed kiss, Travis took things a step further. His arms looped around her upper body, pulling her into the solidness of his body, the closest she’d been to a man in years. She couldn’t help a sigh of pleasure at the hardness of his frame, the evidence of his arousal—
an attraction to me!
—pressing against her lower belly.

Throbbing and insistent.

Oh god. I really shouldn’t. We shouldn’t. I want to. I need to.

Need…

“Hey, Doc, you’re needed.” The words were yelled by someone outside only moments before they entered the tent.

Only seconds between the two actions, yet she’d already yanked herself away from Travis—and his tempting lips. She turned to rummage in the medical kit by her side to give herself a moment to compose herself.

“Are you Dr. Weller?” a stranger asked.

“She is,” Travis replied. “What’s up?”

Jess took a deep breath and rose while pivoting to view their visitor. While the private might have wondered at her glazed eyes and full red lips—which tingled with aftershocks—he at least hadn’t caught her in a compromising situation.

I was lucky.

Lucky that Freddie hadn’t walked in.

He might not want her, but his pride wouldn’t allow a challenge such as finding another man kissing his wife. Especially not given his evident dislike of Travis.

“You’re needed in the master sergeant’s tent. Your clan members are ill.”

Ill? And yet they’d seemed in fine form when she’d left them not that long ago.

“Take me to them.” After slapping the medical kit shut and buckling the clips, she didn’t spare Travis a glance as she followed the private. As if the bear would let her go alone.

She was fully aware of his gaze on her as Travis followed at her heels.

The master sergeant’s tent had a small crowd gathered around it, which dispersed as she arrived, probably because the rhino barked, “Find him for me. As in yesterday. Move!”

When the master sergeant used his big voice, soldiers scattered.

“What happened?” she asked without preamble. “Where are my clansmen?”

“Inside. As to what happened, I’m not sure. One moment they were fine, the next they were heaving all over the place. Food poisoning I reckon given how sudden it hit them all.”

Upset bellies? Puzzled lines creased her forehead. “That seems odd. They’ve usually got quite solid constitutions.”

“Camp food can take getting used to. Or maybe they caught a bug. How the fuck would I know? I got other things to worry about than upset tummies. If you want to know more, check for yourself.”

Master sergeant Carson strode away, and she frowned at his back. Whatever affected her companions, it hadn’t touched the rhino. Nor her. She felt fine, and yet she’d eaten the same things at dinner.

Walking into the tent, she was struck hard by the stench of vomit and wine. Ugh. She wished she’d thought to pop on a filtered mask. The place reeked.

At first glance, given the open bottle of wine on the table and the scattered mugs, it seemed like a simple case of over imbibing idiots, something the sarge had left out. Except there were a few oddities.

Shifters took a lot to get drunk, and while they weaved and wobbled until their body metabolized, they rarely got truly hung over to the point of puking.

But oddest of all, she’d seen them less than half an hour or so ago. Not long enough for anyone to get loaded unless they really put their minds to it and chugged.

The strangeness did not prevent her questioning. “Just how much did you drink?” she asked as she shone her penlight in Boris’ bloodshot eye since he was closest.

“Not enough,” he slurred. “Two glasses.”

Only two? Not even the strongest moonshine could have knocked Boris on his ass like this. Not for lack of trying. Boris had been the only contestant left standing last year at the annual Moon Juice Face Off.

Leaning down, she sniffed his breath, but her human olfactory sense wasn’t refined enough to detect anything over the fermented grapes.

However, she did have someone who could. “Travis, can you sniff his breath and tell me what you get?”

“Ugh. You do realize that’s totally gross?” He protested but still bent over to bring himself closer to the moose who lay on the canvas floor with his eyes closed, his skin an unhealthy shade of gray.

Despite his grimace, Travis inhaled. “Wine. Red grape. With a hint of… Vanilla custard. A dash of mashed potatoes, overlaid with vomit.” He shot her a mocking glance.

She pursed her lips but didn’t reply.

He went on. “Almonds.”

“Almonds? Are you sure?”

“Are you questioning my nose?” He angled so his mouth was much too close to her ear. “I can smell
everything
.”

Smell yes, but not predict. She hip checked him and hoped that the time it took for him to pick himself off the floor was enough for the heat in her cheeks to subside.

With the hint Travis gave her, she quickly checked the others to confirm her hypothesis. Once she confirmed it, she knew of only one possible recourse. “I need some B12.”

“Is now really the time to worry about them taking their vitamins?”

“I need it to counteract the poison.”

“Poison? What poison?” Master sergeant Carson entered the tent while asking.

“Judging by their symptoms, someone fed the guys cyanide.”

“Impossible,” blustered the rhino.

Trust the bear to take her at her word. Travis asked, “Do you think they did it at dinner?”

She shook her head. “Doubtful or we’d all be sick. Not to mention, it seemed to come on pretty suddenly. I smelled wine. Were you drinking?”

Sergeant Carson straightened. “I might have uncorked a bottle, but I shared it with them, and I’m fine.”

“Are you?” she asked, noting his sweating forehead. She leaned up on tiptoe and pressed the back of her hand against his rough skin.

“My stomach might feel a little queasy.”

“Did the wine have an almond aftertaste?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” Brody groaned from his spot over a garbage pail, his hair hanging over his forehead, screening his eyes.

“In the past, bitter almonds were a commonly used method of poisoning. Many couldn’t differentiate them from the safe sweet ones. It only takes about fifteen or so to induce cyanide poisoning. Crush them and add them to a drink and offer them as a snack…” She waved her hand at the plastic container of them in the middle of the table.

“Someone actually poisoned them? On purpose?” The concept seemed to flummox Travis. “But that means…”

“There’s a traitor in camp.” Sergeant Carson’s lips thinned into a straight line. “I’ve suspected we had one for a while. It’s the only thing that made any sense. How else could the enemy know our every move? Until now, I assumed it was just someone feeding information. But this, an attack within camp? That’s beyond blatant. It’s fucking treason.”

“Who delivered the wine and almonds? We need to question them,” Jess said.

“Good luck with that. As soon as the boys here got sick, I was a tad suspicious and sent some soldiers to find the one who brought stuff to my tent.”

“So you know who it is?”

“Yeah and you do too,” Brody muttered.

It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots. “Freddie did this?” For some reason the truth surprised her. Yes, she’d not missed the angry undercurrents between them and between Freddie and Travis. But she would have never expected him to stoop to do something this low. This evil.

“He was the one to deliver the stuff, then leave,” the master sergeant confirmed. “And now he can’t be found.”

“But why? Why would he try and poison you? He had to know he’d be caught.”

“The hearts of men are dark places capable of anything. In this case, though, I’d say a certain blackbird was lured. I hate to be the bearer of unpleasant news, but your husband has been spending a lot of his down time off base. Doing who knows what and with whom. On his last leave, he disappeared for two weeks.”

“He was gone two weeks? But where?” Because he certainly never came home.