Polar Bared (19 page)

Outside, she could hear the sounds of battle. Snarls from an animal, possibly Gene. The yells of human voices, the ringing retorts of gunfire. No way was she going out there. Self-preservation kicked in and told her to hide. But where? Not under a table. Behind the bar? In the washroom?

Before she could decide, company arrived.

“What do we have here?” exclaimed an unfamiliar voice from behind her. “Smells like bear to me.”

What is it with these guys and their claiming I stink?

Before she could whirl and repeat her daring shooting, someone knocked the gun from her hand and grabbed her. So much for defending herself. Her assailant easily overcame her flailing and flung her over a shoulder.

“Put me down, you brute,” she yelled, which, not surprisingly, had no effect on the thug and yet didn’t go entirely unnoticed.

The most vicious roar ever split the air.

Gene.

He heard her and came to the rescue, or so she assumed from her less-than-stellar position.

The guy holding her upside down over his shoulder tensed as he said, “Come any closer, bear, and the girl gets it.”

By gets it, she assumed he meant shot by the round muzzle of the gun pressing against her ribs.
What are the chances he’ll miss?
Not likely.

With all the blood rushing to her head, terror making her heart race fast enough to explode, and now this newest threat…Vicky finally gave up the battle to be courageous and let darkness claim her.

Who dares touch what is mine!

At the sight of his Pima in the grips of the enemy, Gene morphed back to his man shape. His burning rage could have helped him to keep his deadly half-shifted form, but he hoped to appear less threatening to the asshole who dared lay hands on his woman.

Gene tried reasoning first. “Put the girl down, and I’ll let you have a head start.” A head start so he could chase his ass down and shove the head he planned to rip off up it.

“Head start? Cocky bastard, aren’t you? Looks to me like I’m the one in the position to give orders. Tell you what, how about you drop the knife in your hand and I’ll call in one of my buddies to handcuff you and then, maybe, I’ll put the girl down. Oh, and let you watch as I have some fun with her.”

Apparently someone didn’t get the memo on not pissing Gene off. “You really don’t want to do that,” Gene calmly stated, even if cold fear iced his veins. It seemed there were still some things capable of scaring him, and a threat to Vicky was one of them. Given he hated weakness of any sort, he’d have to deal with it. And nothing banished fear better than death.

“I’d say that if you want the woman to live, you’re not in a position to make demands.”

The idiot before him might not know it, but he was wasting his last breaths on pompous statements instead of more useful words such as,
Please don’t kill me.
“It wasn’t a demand. It was an offer. Last chance, put the girl down.”

“Fuck—”

The idiot with a death wish never got to finish the sentence as Gene moved too fast. Up came his arm. With absolute precision, the knife he held went flying. And hit.

Bull’s-eye. Nothing killed faster than a blade through the eye socket. No healing from that wound.

I warned him. No one touches my Pima.

Before the body began to wobble, Gene darted forward and snagged Vicky’s limp body.

His Pima had fainted. Not that he could blame her. Fighting in this scenario would have probably resulted in more harm than good.

As he cradled her in his arms, checking her for signs of injury, especially once he scented the blood on her clothes, blood that thankfully didn’t belong to her, Brody arrived.

“Shit, where did this fucker come from?”

“Doesn’t really matter. He’s dead now, and the dead don’t get up and walk away.”
Not yet at any rate.
But he wouldn’t put it past
him
to look for a way. Hell, his old master had figured out a way to get feral wolves and other wild beasts to follow his command. Who was to say zombies weren’t next?

“Fuck me, you weren’t kidding when you claimed the dude had a hard-on when it came to snuffing you. Which reminds me, what the hell is his name?”

Gene shrugged. “No idea.”

“What do you mean no idea? How could you not know that, seeing as how you worked for him and all?”

“I wasn’t kidding about
his
power. No one remembers
his
name. Or his face. Nothing other than the fact that
he
is one seriously evil dude.” Gene had pondered this oddity about the one everyone called master. Considering himself pretty strong-minded, Gene couldn’t fathom how, other than by impossible magic, a man—or not—could just make people forget any specifics about him as well as command wild creatures to do his bidding.

Mind control? Surely such a thing did not exist? He didn’t mention his theories aloud.

“Sounds like some form of brainwashing. The doc might have some ideas about that.”

Brody still spoke as if Gene would accompany him to Kodiak Point. After this attack… Gene veered the conversation. “How many came after us?”

“Fourteen by my count, along with some wild wolves, a few wild caribou, and some jackrabbits,” snapped the barkeep, who entered the room with a limp.

Brody snickered. “Evil bunnies attack. Did they smack you in the shins with their big, floppy ears?”

The barkeep glared. “Does this look like the face of someone amused? When I agreed to rent you that room, I told you I didn’t want any trouble.”

Gene growled. “Watch your tone, old man. I’ve had a rough night.”

“I’ll speak any goddamn way I like. This is my bloody place, and because of you, it’s got fucking gunshot holes in the walls and dead bodies all over. Not to mention, a rabid rabbit bit my leg. A wolf, that’s respectable. A caribou gore, a fine battle wound, but getting chewed on by a bloody bunny, I won’t have it. I want you out!”

“Not my fault you can’t handle little woodland creatures.” As Gene stood toe-to-toe with the barkeep, body bristling, Brody stepped between them.

“We’re sorry for the trouble. My friend here didn’t mean for this to happen. And we’ll pay you for damages. Send the bill to me.”

The barkeep only slightly relaxed his scowl. “Fucking right someone is going to pay. But it should be him.” His pointed look didn’t leave any doubt who the him was. Gene restrained an urge to punch him. “You’re a good man, Brody. I don’t know why you’re sticking up for the likes of this fellow. Anyone can see he’s got trouble written all over him.”

Must. Not. Hit. Asshole.
Gene was trying, really damned hard, to behave for Brody’s and Vicky’s sakes, but his patience rapidly melted.

“Watch your mouth when you talk about my friend,” Brody stated in a low, menacing voice. “I’m not the only one who owes this man a debt. As a veteran for our country, he deserves some respect.”

Gene almost choked.
Did he just jump to my damned rescue?

Brody wasn’t done. “We’ll be leaving now. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t breathe a word of our presence. If anyone asks, these bastards came out of nowhere and started fighting. They seemed drunk and the animals loopy. Maybe they came across a pocket of gas, something that drugged them and made them all a bit crazy.”

“Who the hell is going to believe that?”

“Everyone because that’s the story. We both know the only law enforcement in this town is one of us.” Us meaning a shifter. “They’ll file a report blaming a belch from Mother Nature. And that will be that. Because, if I hear otherwise, I’ll make an example of you.” Brody cracked his knuckles.

Having threatened—and done—worse, Gene wasn’t impressed.

The barkeep was. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“A wise plan,” Gene replied dryly.

“Shut it, bear. I’m only agreeing because I don’t want to start no trouble with Reid’s clan. But you aren’t welcome back.”

“I wasn’t intending on returning.” Compromised hiding spots did him no good.

As Brody and Gene headed upstairs, Vicky still limp in his arms, the stench of death reached him. He couldn’t help but pause in shock as he saw the bullet-riddled body in the room.

Vicky had to kill a man.

In self-defense, but still, if not for him, she would have never had to suffer the trauma of taking someone else’s life.

Because of him, she would bear an emotional scar.

Worse, she ended up lucky. Gene knew things could have been much worse.
What if they’d managed to escape with her? What fate would she have suffered then?
His mind could visualize too many scenarios. None of them pleasant. All of them his fault.

I think my course is clear.
But he didn’t tell Brody. Not yet. First, Gene dressed, then he gathered his things and Vicky’s before following Brody back down.

Outside police lights flashed, and it didn’t take a genius to realize leaving through the front door wasn’t an option. So they slunk out the back, the crisp night air not enough to revive his Pima. But, given how long her fainting spells lasted before, he gauged it wouldn’t be long now.

And he wanted to be long gone before she turned her trusting gaze on him and made him falter in his resolution.

Damned woman makes me weak.

Brody’s truck wasn’t parked far away, and it took only a moment after he stashed her inside the cab before his old army buddy realized Gene didn’t plan on leaving with him.

“You’re not coming to Kodiak Point with me, are you?” Brody stated.

“No. The clan is under enough scrutiny and pressure as it is. If I return, it will just add to it.”

“Whether you’re with us or not, the dick you used to work for is going to cause shit. You know it, and I know it. So why would you choose to go it alone when we could face him together.”

“I don’t do together.”

“Not even for Vicky?”

Gene’s hands fumbled the straps to his backpack. “Especially because of Vicky. You saw what almost happened back there. She almost died.”

“Almost. But didn’t because you had me to back you up. Now imagine a whole town.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Arguing so hard for me to return. When you first bumped into me, you were determined to take me out.”

“I thought we hashed the reasons out last night.”

“Yeah and I still don’t get it.” Still couldn’t understand how Brody and the others managed to forgive him. First Reid going easy on him even though Gene had come closest to killing him. Then Boris, letting him go and offering him absolution, and now Brody. Why could none of these assholes act like jerks? How was a man supposed to remember why he’d ever thought vengeance was the solution when they kept being so goddamned nice?

Like a cult, they kept trying to entice him back into their fold.
Come to Kodiak Point. We serve beer and forgiveness.
As well as an offer to help him strike back at the enemy who hunted him. “I’m better off alone.”

“Friends don’t let friends fight alone.”

Friends? When was the last time he’d heard anyone use that term around him? It cracked the wall he’d built around himself just a little farther. It was what he blamed for what he said next. Words Gene had not said in a long time but now seemed to mete out a little too often for comfort. “Thank you.”

Ack. Another person he owed. If this kept up, he’d end up with enough people for a goddamned Tupperware party or Saturday night guy’s poker. Playing with bullets because none of them could be bothered to buy chips.

“You want to help me, make sure Vicky’s safe. Find the asshole who hired those killers and, once he’s taken care of, send her home. Where she belongs.”

“Are you seriously just going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“Bye.”

“Not to me, you fucking moron, to her. You know she’ll be crushed if she wakes and you’re not there.”

Gene’s resolve wavered. He channeled his sarge—
indecision is for the weak—
and bitch slapped it back into place.

“Tell her I said this was for the best.”

Best for who though?
he wondered as he walked away. Because it sure as hell hurt a heck of lot more than it should have.

Days later…

No fucking way. Reading the newspaper headline didn’t make the news any better.

Woman thought dead in rare polar bear attack on arctic expedition is found alive and well. Rescuers are baffled how she survived the extreme conditions and emerged in such good health. Despite the coma she’s in, the doctor and residents of the area are claiming it’s a miracle. While unable to travel home yet, Vicky Sanchez is being cared for by the doctor of Kodiak Point, a remote town in Alaska…

Un-fucking-believable.

The bitch survived yet another attack. Would nothing kill her nerdy fat ass? Millions sat in bank accounts, waiting to get inherited if only she’d croak.

But it seemed hired killers just weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

How many times will she escape certain death?

Or was this a case where it was best to handle things in person? How hard could it be to kill a woman in a coma?

It would certainly save a buttload of money. The more the idea percolated, the more it appealed.

Time to crack out a parka, long johns, and boots. He was going to Alaska because, apparently,
if you want something done right, do it yourself.

A few weeks after the attack…

A coma would probably have proven less boring than this. Vicky couldn’t help but sigh as she took a turn watching the security monitor.

“How much longer do you think we need to maintain this charade before your husband admits this plan to lure out my killer won’t work?”

“Knowing Reid and his stubborn bear ass? I’d say when the polar caps melt,” said Tammy, the new friend she’d made since her arrival in Kodiak Point. A short and curvy gal, like herself, the feisty wife of the clan leader had taken an instant interest in Vicky when she arrived woebegone and frightened.

“I can’t stand all this waiting around, doing nothing,” Vicky grumbled. While usually patient, she’d found herself a little less so since her recent adventures. Forget feigning happiness at twiddling her thumbs, she chafed at the boredom of maintaining watch.