Polar Bared (14 page)

But Gene didn’t take affront. Instead, an odd yearning twisted his heart, and it made him admit something he never meant to. “A part of me wishes things could be different. That I could be the man you deserve.”

“And what kind of man do you think I deserve?”

“An honorable one.”

She took a step closer to him and another, which in the tiny space brought her to within inches of him. Angling her chin, she gazed up at him, her eyes big behind her glasses, her expression serious. “But that’s just it, Gene. You are the most honorable man I’ve ever met. The only one to ever treat me like someone of worth.”

“If you only knew the things I’ve done.”

“I don’t care about your past. I’m judging you on the now. On how you’ve treated me. Since the moment we’ve met, you’ve done nothing but take care of me.”

Because he couldn’t help himself. “Someone had to,” was his gruff reply.

“But that someone didn’t have to be you. A lot of people would have left me to my fate. Walked away. It’s the easy thing to do. But you didn’t. You stuck around. You made sure I was safe, and when I needed you, you came. You saved me.”

He couldn’t help but whisper, “I’ll always keep you safe.” So much for his big macho act and his I-don’t-give-a-shit-about-anyone speech. With one sentence he’d given her all the evidence she needed to take him down, to smash the walls and lies he’d built to keep her away.

Yet, his admission didn’t give her the triumphant expression he expected. She didn’t crow in victory. But she did take advantage of his one weakness. His Achilles’ heel. His Kryptonite. She fought him with the one weapon destined to destroy him.

Her.

Gene should have pulled away, run, escaped, pulled his gun and shot her before she…

Kissed him.

He was defenseless against her sweet embrace. Frozen prey in the headlight of her trust. He couldn’t move, just feel, and enjoy, as she used her guileless trust against him.

I want her. I need her. I must have her. I—

Needed to escape before he succumbed completely to her allure.

From the tiny room—with the bed that called him and the woman that disarmed him—he fled. Fled with his lips tingling, his arousal raging, and his bear roaring at him to go back.

He’d no sooner slammed the door shut behind him that he heard, “You!”

Addled by the kiss, Gene wasn’t working on all cylinders. It was the only excuse he could come up with for not taking his usual precautions. No excuse and he paid for it as a fist came out of nowhere and cracked his head to the side.

Reeling back, he gave his head a half shake and, before even seeing who hit him, snarled, “Fucking asshole. I’ll teach you to hit a man out of the blue.”

“I dare you to try,” snapped a familiar voice.

I’ll be damned. Wait, I already am.
It seemed Gene had run into another of his old army buddies. Brody, usually a genial person, but rile his wolf—or threaten his clan—and he could turn nasty.

The second swing missed his face as he raised his arm to block it. With a growl of frustration, which had more to do with his blue balls than Brody finding him, Gene charged. He caught the big man around the middle but barely budged him.

The fight, though, was on.

With a flurry of flying fists, they tussled, slamming each other off the walls of the upstairs hall, grappling for the upper hand. The edge of the stairs took them unaware, and in a limb-flailing ball, they tumbled down them, hitting the dusty plank floor of the bar hard. But not hard enough to stop their fight.

Having landed on top, Gene took the opportunity to draw back his fist and drove it into Brody’s face.

Brody replied by wedging his knees under his body and flinging him away.

It gave them both the time needed to regain their feet.

“How did you find me?” Gene asked as he eyed his former friend while balancing on the balls of his feet, ready this time for the next swing.

“You might be a ghost when it comes to hiding out, but don’t forget, you’re not the only one with skills.”

“You tracked me?” Surprising given where Gene had spent the last few weeks.

“More like scented.”

“I only just arrived.”

Brody shrugged. “So I’m lucky. A matter of the right place at the right time. Speaking of time, I think it’s time you answered for your actions.”

“I don’t have time for your clan politics and bullshit.”

“Well, then make the time, because I’m not leaving unless I’m dragging your carcass back with me. Dead or alive, that’s completely up to you.”

“Not going to forgive me like fucking Boris did?” Gene replied with a sneer.

“I might if I thought you could actually change. But given what you’ve done, I’d say that’s highly unlikely. You’re a man with a giant fucking tree trunk up his ass, and I, for one, am not going to mollycoddle you yanking it the hell out. Act like an asshole throwing a temper tantrum and you’ll get treated like one and get the sound thrashing you deserve.”

“I wasn’t having a temper tantrum. I was avenging myself,” was Gene’s indignant reply.

“For what? Being jealous we made it out before you did.”

Jealous? “You fucking left me behind!”

“Because we didn’t know.”

Again with the damned rational answers. Argh. “No excuse.” With a roar to shake the rafters, Gene snapped and plowed into Brody. Good-looking, everything-turned-out-fine fucking Brody.

They stumbled together, limbs locked in a hug to the death. Given he was a bear with a slight size advantage over Brody’s less stocky wolf build, Gene could have crushed Brody’s ribs. He could have ended the fight right then, except for one thing.

The unmistakable sound of a shotgun getting pumped diverted their attention.

The bartender aimed the barrels of a shotgun at them. “Read the fucking sign. No fighting in the bar. Take it outside before I put holes in both your hides.”

And he would too. But Gene wasn’t ready to stop now, not when he had someone he could finally pummel his frustrations out on. “Shall we rumble some more?” Gene asked with a mocking tilt of his lips and a sweep of his hands toward the door.

“After you,” Brody retorted.

Knowing Brody’s penchant for a clean fight, Gene led the way, but apparently time had changed his friend just as it had done a number on him. He’d no sooner set foot outside than a boot to the middle of his back sent him stumbling.

He caught himself quickly and whipped around. “Well, well, the wolf now fights dirty.”

“Says the man who’s been skulking in shadows taking aim at women.”

“You know what they say, all’s fair in hate and war.”

“Real men fight their battles face to face. They don’t hide in the darkness toying with innocents. They don’t blame others because of their inability to cope.”

“Who says I’m not coping?” Gene snapped.

“I wouldn’t call blaming us for your treatment by the insurgents coping.”

“Funny, because the more I harass you, the better I feel.” Lie. He didn’t. Gene thought he’d get some satisfaction at hurting those he felt betrayed by. So far, though, it only left him feeling even more hollow than before.

“Let’s see how you feel after I beat you to a bloody pulp.”

“Bring it, dog.” Gene beckoned with his fingers.

With a snarl, Brody came at him. Gene caught his rush and gave him a bear hug in return. However, Brody was no human weakling. He broke the hold and slugged Gene in the gut. Once. Twice.

As they traded blows, Gene became distantly aware they’d gained an audience. Others in the bar, shifters and human alike, having emerged to watch them pummel each other.

Neither combatant truly got the upper hand, evenly matched, especially since both needed to keep their inner beasts leashed. Shifter rule of survival: never let the humans know what you are. His grandmother had taught him that along with the other important one; hiding the wooden spoon didn’t stop punishment. It just meant she’d use her cane.

If only his grandma were here now. She’d cheer him on. She always did enjoy a good fight.

Crunch
. Brody’s already bent nose cracked and angled to the side. Gene had little time to celebrate as a left hook to the side of his head left his ear ringing.

A punch to the teeth split a lip, and blood flowed.

A kick received in the gut whooshed the air from his lungs.

He reacted with a boot of his own, which sent Brody reeling back.

The separation gave them a chance to regroup. Barely breathing hard, Gene couldn’t help a smile. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had a good fight.”

“Then maybe you should come back with me. I know a few other guys who’d like to take a poke at you.”

“If I wasn’t on a mission, I might have accepted.”

“Ah yes, your mission of vengeance,” Brody mocked.

“I see word has gotten around.”

“So when were you going to come after me?”

“Feeling left out?” Gene taunted with a stab in his direction.

Brody jumped back. “A little. Why do you think I came to find you?”

“Alas, I wish we had more time to draw this out, but as I said, I’ve got other shit to take care of before I get to you.”

Brody lunged, faked a punch, and spun his leg in a roundhouse that caught Gene in the face. It hurt. It would leave a great big fucking bruise, but it wasn’t enough to take him down.

A pity his Pima didn’t know that.

Her horrified gasp cut through the noise of the fight and the jeering audience.

He turned his head to see her staring with big eyes and terror on her face. Before he could reassure her, Brody slugged him, and Gene went down hard, the ground not a forgiving landing spot.

Before he could bounce to his feet, Vicky was there. Standing between him and Brody.

“Don’t you hit him,” she yelled.

I must be hallucinating. Pima, coming to my defense?

“Or what?” snarled Brody.

“Or—Or—”

Given the way Brody’s eyes practically gleamed yellow as his wolf danced behind his orbs, eager to escape, it wasn’t any wonder when his delicate Pima began a slow slump to the ground.

Rolling to his knees, Gene caught her before she could hit.

An incredulous appearing Brody stared down at them. “What the fuck is up with her?”

Gene shrugged. “My Pima here doesn’t handle stress too well.”

“Ya think?”

“It’s not her fault,” Gene defended. “She had a dick for a husband.”

“Had? Did you kill him?”

“I wish,” grumbled Gene.

“So who is she?”

In other words, what did she mean to Gene? Given their avid audience, he didn’t want to say too much. “Truce while I explain?”

Brody hesitated only a moment before nodding.

Standing with Vicky cradled in his arms, Gene said, “Grab us some beers and meet me in my room.”

“Why, so you can shoot me as I come in the door?” Brody accused.

“My word, I won’t harm you.”

For a moment, Gene wondered if Brody would call his rusty word into question. How long since he’d made a promise to someone, and one he actually intended to keep? Despite his reputation, with a nod, Brody let him walk away. Gene returned to the warmth of the building, his unconscious Pima in his arms.

Or not.

As soon as they hit the stairs, she cracked open an eyelid and whispered, “Are you all right?”

Shocked, he just about dropped her on her head – probably not for the first time in her life.

The expression on Gene’s face when he realized she’d faked her fainting spell?

Awesome. So awesome, she giggled. “If you could see your face right now.”

He didn’t find it as amusing. “You faked passing out?” he hissed as he took the stairs to their room by two.

“Well, I had to do something. That awful man was hurting you.” Never mind the fact that Gene was hurting the stranger back. She’d seen the violence, the savagery, the blood and practically swooned. Until Gene got hit hard when distracted by her arrival. Then she’d gotten mad. Mad enough that she’d acted.
Here I thought he’d be proud.

“Awful man?” Gene snorted. “Do your glasses need a cleaning? Brody was considered the best-looking guy in our platoon. Women were constantly throwing themselves at him.”

The lenses of her glasses were fine. Vicky wrinkled her nose. “I guess he’s all right looking.” However, he lacked Gene’s rugged appeal.

“All right?” he managed to choke out.

She shrugged. “If you like that sort. He’s really not my type.”

“And what is your type?” Gene asked as he carried her down the hall to their room.

An impish side she never suspected existed said, “He’s carrying me right now.”

One of his rare smiles tilted his lips. “What am I going to do with you?”

She could think of some things, such as a repeat of the pleasure he’d given her when they were traveling, However, given he’d just invited the guy whom he was fighting up to their room, she doubted they’d have the time. Speaking of whom, “Who was that guy, and why was he attacking you?”

“That guy is an old army buddy of mine.”

“Looked more like an enemy,” she replied as he deposited her inside their quarters and closed the door.

“He is now. Kind of. It’s complicated.”

Before she could ask him elucidate, a knock rattled the door. Grabbing the gun that he’d laid earlier within easy reach by his pack, Gene planted himself to one side of the frame while gesturing for her to move over and stay down.

She flattened herself in behind a cardboard box that a quick peek in the open top showed contained freeze-dried ration packs.

Once he seemed satisfied she was out of harm’s way, Gene asked, “Who is it?”

“You know goddamn well it’s me, Ghost. Let me the fuck in.”

“Or what?” Gene asked, an edge of mirth to his query, which baffled her.

Weren’t he and this guy just smashing each other?
She’d never understand men.

“Or I’ll huff and puff and kick your ass to the North Pole and back until you admit I’m your superior.”

“Superior? Ha.” Gene snorted as he swung open the door and allowed the other man entry.

In strode the buddy/enemy. A tall fellow, broad-shouldered, brown shaggy hair, a bit of a scruffy beard and piercing, almost golden eyes. Now that Gene pointed it out, she supposed he was good looking, if you were into hairy guys with cocky attitudes, but she preferred the clean-cut and rugged handsomeness of her protector.