Grizzly Love (13 page)

With all his lessons in mind, Travis watched. A keen eye on things didn’t trigger any alarm bells, and in the front seat of the Jeep, Boris seemed unperturbed, his head leaning back against the headrest.

Nothing untoward happened that morning, and within a few hours, they were in the mountainous foothills. They continued on, dehydrating under the blazing sun despite their constant sips of water.

The heat sapped at his earlier energy. The dusty air, heated and dry, burned the lungs to inhale, yet still they traveled onward, following the flashing dot of a beacon they hoped would lead to their prize.

Late afternoon, the convoy came across the Jeep Frederick had stolen, abandoned and lacking its driver. As if he’d stick around for punishment. This way was actually better. It meant they got to hunt.

His bear practically did a two-step in his head.

As they piled out of the vehicles, a motley crew of shifters, half from Kodiak Point, even more from camp, Travis frowned.

Why did none of the soldiers make a pretense of at least looking for the enemy? They milled around, quiet, sullen. Totally out of character.

Brody, Gene, and the master sergeant, had wandered over to check out the abandoned vehicle. Layla remained seated in her Jeep, head tilted, probably doing her animal whisper thing.

Travis sidled over to Boris and muttered, “Is it me or—”

“There’s something wrong with this scenario? There is. I smell a double cross.”

Surely not all those soldiers were part of the treachery going on?

“What do we do?” Travis asked. The numbers wouldn’t have usually bothered him. Those they faced weren’t especially high on the totem pole of strength or cunning; however, no amount of muscle or skill in the world would stop a bullet.

“Do? I’d say that’s obvious. We are going to stay alive.”

“Well duh. But what’s the plan?” Surely the moose had some brilliant strategy.

“I just told you the plan. Don’t die.”

His first huge treacherous ambush and Boris wanted to wing it. Ah, hell no.

Travis bounced on the balls of his feet. “What about you take the three to the left, I’ve got the four to the right. On the count of three, we go wild.”

“See the problem with that is you’re assuming they’ll cooperate and stay where they’re supposed to. I say, fuck a plan. Plans just make things complicated. Do your best and don’t croak. I don’t want to have to explain to your mother that I let you kick the bucket on your first overseas mission.”

Nothing better happen to him or his mother would brave the afterlife to come find him. Of more concern at the moment than his mother, though, was a certain red-tailed hawk. “What about Jess?” He inclined his head at her where she sat in the Jeep, head bent over her phone again, tapping and searching for who knew what.

“I’d recommend she not die too.”

Apparently Jess was paying enough attention to give the moose a thumbs-up and reply, “Gotcha. Good plan.”

Good plan? Were they both insane? Okay, Boris was borderline certifiable, but he’d thought Jess level-headed. Where did this teasing side come from? And why did she choose to display it now of all times?

Usually the joker wherever they went, Travis finally grasped how his jocular responses might irritate others in serious situations. “You’re both not funny.” His own words struck him as ironic, and a grin stretched his lips. If they wanted to treat the situation with levity, then who was he to throw a monkey wrench—or usually in Boris’ case, a right hook—into the mix? “By all the hair on my grizzly chin-chin, we’ll wing it, hoof it, and paw it. But I’m going on the record right now as saying I get dibs on the fat one. He smells like donuts, and my bear really likes donuts.”

“Only if you can get to him first.” Boris flashed him a challenging smile.

“Boys!” Jess muttered under her breath. “Always thinking with their bellies.”

“So when do we make our move?” Travis asked.

“We don’t, at least not until our suspicions are proven correct, which I’m figuring will be anytime now. So hang tight. You’ll know when it’s time.”

Wait?

His inner teddy grumbled. Now that it faced the prospect of a little violent sport and bloodshed, it wasn’t content to remain caged. It wanted to make the first move and charge.

But Boris was right. Acting before proof could land them in hot water—the legal kind, not the broth the ladies sometimes had going back home to drop in fresh kills along with vegetables and seasoning.

Damn but I miss Ma’s cooking.

As Travis leaned against the hood of the Jeep, attempting a nonchalance he didn’t feel, he eyed the soldiers who still clustered together several yards from him. The soft murmur of their voices remained masked by the rumbling engine of the Jeep they’d left running, but he could imagine it, especially since they cast the occasional furtive glance his way.

As for his best bud, Boris? With his hands jammed in his pockets, the moose whistled as he approached Gene, his attempt to look unconcerned and harmless an epic fail as far as Travis was concerned. Who could miss the jaunty swagger, the eager gaze, and the taut readiness of the big man?

Yet it wasn’t Gene or Brody who called him on his evident readiness for a fight but the rhino.

“Boy, you look about as subtle as a whore wearing fishnets, a mini skirt, and a bra in church. I should have known this wild bird chase wouldn’t fool you. But it doesn’t matter. You’re on my turf now, and there ain’t no one here to help you.”

“I always did like bad odds,” Boris riposted. “It makes the win so much sweeter.”

“Such misplaced optimism. I thought I taught you better. Soldiers, it’s time. Take them. Alive if you can. The master wants them breathing.”

Judging by the less-than-shocked miens on Brody’s and the other faces, it seemed the fact that the master sergeant was one of the traitors didn’t surprise them. The soldiers milling about uselessly snapped to attention, some shedding garments to shift, others aiming their weapons.

Good thing Travis was prepared because, in a blink of an eye, the situation went from boring wait to shit’s-hitting-the-fan.

But at least they’re not out to kill us.
According to the rhino’s command at any rate. Alive apparently, though, didn’t mean uninjured.

Guns were leveled, most of them the tranquilizing kind, but not all. Quick reflexes saw the folk from his clan moving for cover before the first bullets whistled past.

Adrenaline filled him with an energized rush.

Let me out.
His bear practically danced, begging for release. He could so easily picture himself barreling at the threat, roaring a challenge, watching them scatter. But such an act meant leaving Jess exposed and alone. Vulnerable. Unacceptable.

First he had to stash her somewhere safe.

Or not.

A whirl to face her found her already stripping behind the wheel of the Jeep, which acted as a shield from stray missiles.

“I don’t think flashing them your gorgeous breasts will work,” he muttered as he hunkered down beside her, although it proved distracting to him. Why was it every time he got a chance to see her naked their lives were in danger?

He did his best to keep his gaze averted.

“I was thinking more along the lines of getting out of the way by taking to the skies.”

“And make yourself a tempting target?” He peered at the blue sky, which would highlight her presence, not hide it.

“I’m a target on the ground too, but in the air, at least I can maneuver and use the sun’s rays to my advantage. Men blinded by sunspots can’t see to shoot.”

“How about instead you go get help?” From whom though, he wasn’t sure. Had the rhino brought all the traitors with him, or were those remaining back at camp part of his rebellious troop too?

“Getting any kind of aid would take too long, and you know it. Now stop trying to protect me. I can take care of myself. I’m going to soar out of here, and you are going to shift into your furry self and show those bastards how tough a grizzly is.”

“Really?”

She wasn’t going to try and talk him out of being a badass bear or order him to stay back.

Awesome. Was it possible for him to love her any more? The plan appealed on every one of his levels.

“Tear off an arm or two for me, would you?” Her eyes shone teasingly when she said it, but it was the light kiss across his lips that made him…

A bullet singed past, just skimming his arm, but nicking her.

Unacceptable.

The coppery scent of her blood overcame rational thought.

Rawr!

They hurt my woman.

His bear had only one thought about that.

Kill.

Given Travis was only a passenger as his body morphed in an instant from human to massive grizzly, he didn’t argue. Why would he? He agreed with his beast.

No one hurt his Jess and lived to tell.

Of course, his decision might have worked out better were he armed with more than fur and fang. Ooh and claws, mustn’t forget the claws.

However, when fighting against those armed with guns? Yeah, not so handy.

A missile impacted his upper shoulder, and another skimmed his thigh before he barreled into the offender. The scream wasn’t as satisfying as the crunch when his bear let the shooting human know what he thought of his rifle aim.

But that was just one man down.

Boris, who also seemed to be bleeding and still held his human shape, grinned across a pair of bodies and yelled, “Two for one. Booyah!”

A competition? If Travis could have grinned in his bear shape, he would have—and probably made a nature videographer faint while getting a zillion hits on YouTube.

As it was, he didn’t have time to strike any kind of pose because the danger had just begun. As the master sergeant yelled to stop shooting with bullets and use the darts only, Travis noted the numbers against them seemed to have swelled.

Well, that wasn’t good for them at least, but on a brighter note, it seemed Jess had gotten away. He spared a quick glance overhead and saw her coasting the aerial wind streams. A sharp caw, one of warning, and a subtle roll of gravel shifting behind him had him ducking, which, given he was a bear, meant dropping to his belly. The butt end of a rifle whistled overhead.

Try to knock me out, will he?

Travis rolled sideways, crashing into the legs of his attacker.

Pinch.

Ow.

The stinging spot in his shoulder showed a tufted dart. One tranquilizer? No problem.

The second before he took out the Sandman firing his nocturnal missiles? He barely noticed it. Not a yawn.

But he did worry about the guy crouched on the hilly area to his left, kneeling and taking aim at the sky.

There was just one person up there the dick could be aiming for.

More worrisome, even as he began his rush, he knew he wouldn’t make it in time before the guy fired.

Rat-tat-tat
.

With a grunt, Travis plowed into him. That put an end to the asshole’s shooting but not before Travis heard the scream of pain from above.

One of the bullets hit Jess. So he hit the guy—tit for tat—hard enough to knock him out. Then he faced a dilemma. As a bear, he couldn’t exactly restrain the guy in case he regained consciousness, and this wasn’t the time for sportsmanship.

Travis couldn’t help but recall a nugget of advice Boris dispensed—
Sympathy will get you killed. Never leave a murderous enemy at your back. They won’t hesitate, and neither should you.

Not usually one for cold-blooded violence, Travis, the man, closed his inner eyes as his bear did what had to be done. The regret could come later.

He didn’t linger over the dead body. A certain hawk was in trouble.

While not plummeting like a rock from the sky, she was definitely spiraling. He scrambled the rocky face nimbly, his paws and claws gripping the jutting protrusions as he cut at an angle toward where he predicted she’d end up.

It seemed he proved a tempting target. A few more darts in his buttocks sapped his adrenaline, but stubborn will kept him from slowing down.

His mind did at least. His body on the other paw? The drugs coursed through his system, his movements grew sluggish.

He blinked. He teetered. He tottered.

Not good and yet there was nothing he could do.

At the peak of the hill, on a slim ridge, he stumbled and weaved, a drunken beast with no balance. He tumbled right off the far edge and down the side of the incline, leaving Jess to fall, his friends to fight alone, and him to sleep.

Some hero I turned out to be.

Even though they expected the ambush, Jess couldn’t help her surprise at how quickly the situation devolved into chaos. While she appreciated Travis’ concern over her well-being, she knew she would only get in his way.

So with her emergency kit bag slung around her neck, she took to the sky and did her best to make herself scarce while keeping an eye on the situation below.

It didn’t look good.

While they hadn’t left with enough soldiers to create a true problem for them, the reinforcements that poured from hidden spots in the mountain put a whole new spin on the situation. They emerged and began to shoot, tranquilizers for the most part, but the less deadly missiles still proved a major issue.

Sleeping meant not fighting. Not fighting meant they got captured. And with her clan’s folk out of commission, or close to, some of those firing turned their attention to the sky.

Remaining aloft was no longer an option, not with the jerks on the ground shooting at her. In order to draw their attention, and maybe give those on the ground a chance to regain the upper paw, she pretended as if she was hit, uttering a loud cry.

Thing was, her cry stopped the potshots but sent a certain grizzly on a wild rampage to rescue her.

Adorable, yet useless.

She wasn’t quite certain what Travis meant to accomplish. While she did purposely weave and wobble down the air currents, it wasn’t as if his bear could safely catch her unless he planned to use his body as a cushion.

A pin cushion.

With her aerial view she couldn’t help but see the tranquilizing darts that peppered him. If ever there was a time for a bear to not hibernate, it was now; however, poor Travis couldn’t help himself. Drugged, he couldn’t keep his feet, let alone his balance. He toppled over the edge of a small cliff and slid down a rock incline.