Polar Bared (20 page)

“Yeah, inaction sucks. On the bright side, though, no attack might mean that whoever was trying to kill you gave up.”

“Great.” Vicky showed a definite lack of enthusiasm. Probably because so long as she stayed in Alaska, there was a chance, however slim, that Gene might return. Very slim she had to admit. Surely if Gene wanted to return, he would have by now.

The smart move, the one that her newly constructed pride suggested, would have involved her saying thank you to Reid and Brody for their offer of help and leaving for home. She didn’t do it. Not out of fear of what might await her at home though, but more because she hadn’t given up hope. Scratch that. She hadn’t given up on Gene.

When she’d woken, drooling on the window of Brody’s vehicle a few weeks ago, it took her a while to grasp that Gene had abandoned her. Given the night they’d spent, the things they’d said, and shared, she’d really not expected him to leave. And not just leave but to go without even saying goodbye.

During that long ride to Kodiak Point, in Brody’s diesel-powered truck, she’d spent a lot of time peeking out the window at the side view mirror. Despite the improbability, she watched for a polar bear to come lumbering after them. Or for a familiar bulky figure on a snowmobile to race to catch them.

But as the miles went by, and the hours ticked on, that fantasy shattered.

Gene wasn’t coming back.
I lost my cuddly polar bear.

Without his gruff presence, she felt so alone. More alone than when her husband died. More alone than she’d ever felt in her life. Which made no sense. Yet, she couldn’t help the feeling. Even with Tammy by her side and everyone in Kodiak Point so welcoming, Vicky missed her ornery bear.

Sigh.

“I’d offer you a penny for your thoughts, but I’d say they’re pretty blatant. I still can’t believe how hard you fell for Gene.” Tammy couldn’t help a moue of distaste, but Vicky couldn’t blame her.

From what they’d told her, Gene had not only kidnapped Tammy to draw Reid into a trap, he’d changed her. As in, Tammy had moved from the human gene pool to the shapeshifter one.

The knowledge initially blew Vicky away. One, because the idea that someone could become an animal still seemed pretty crazy, and this in spite of the fact she’d seen it with her own eyes. And two, because she couldn’t picture the Gene she knew causing that kind of pain to anyone.

Sure, he claimed he possessed a bad side—she’d certainly seen it in action—but the Gene Vicky knew would never do anything to hurt a woman.

Or at least he wouldn’t hurt me.
Physically, she amended. Emotionally, though, he’d torn her heart to shreds. Not that she let it show. Much. The only reason she didn’t cry was because of years of practice. Her father and Rick had taught her that tears brought more punishment. So she held the pain inside but couldn’t help her lackluster interest in what went on around her.

It helped she had distraction. When she’d arrived in Kodiak Point, she’d found herself welcomed, warned, and waiting all within hours.

Welcomed by Reid, the alpha of the clan—which was what they called a community of shapeshifters who chose to live together. Once she got past her urge to faint—the man had a certain intimidation factor—she spent a good hour or more telling him everything that had happened to her.

Right after that came the big warning by Reid, and some scary dude called Boris, who made it clear if she leaked any of the things she’d learned about shifters she’d end up feeding the wildlife. Or end up in Jan’s stew pot. Apparently, Boris’ wife had a really old recipe passed down from her mother for Spanish Conquistador soup. Vicky didn’t think it prudent to mention she was of Latina descent. With her juicy thighs and padded ribs, she didn’t want to tempt them in case they had an even tastier recipe.

Then came the waiting. Waiting for something to happen as they dangled her as bait in the hopes of drawing out whoever was determined to kill her.

But she didn’t wait alone. Tammy joined her. Even better though, Tammy was a polar bear and had, to Vicky’s delight, posed for her and given her more than enough images and insight to write a half dozen papers—albeit minus the whole I-turn-furry parts.

If Vicky sounded blasé about her acceptance of shifters, it was because, despite their animal side, she quickly realized they were still people, just specially endowed ones.

Given what she knew of shifters now, it seemed all too obvious. Observing the townsfolk of Kodiak Point, who could ignore that there was something special about them? The way they moved, the look in their eyes…Wildness lurked in their gaze, and a certain fluid grace marked their movements. Overall, they possessed an air of confidence, of restrained wildness, and, at times, barely-in-check violence, which never failed to make Vicky shiver.
I’m surrounded by predators.

Predators who’d pledged to capture the person behind the attempts on her life.

If that person was even still trying.

Back in the real world, albeit a chillier one in a more rustic town, Vicky had to wonder at all the things she’d experienced. Guys trying to drug her. A bear saving her. Gunshots. Gene turning into an animal.

Perhaps this was all some massive hallucination. Maybe she’d never made if off that ice shelf in the first place and lay there still, frozen and almost dead, her mind vividly—

“Ouch!” Vicky exclaimed as Tammy pinched her, shattering that illusion.

“Toughen up. Or as Boris would say, suck it up, buttercup. You’ll need thicker skin than that if you’re going to survive as a shifter’s mate.”

“A what?”

“Mate. You know as in significant other. The jam to Gene’s peanut butter. The yin to his yang.”

“Gene’s not coming back.”

“Don’t count on it. Apparently, these guys are really big on fate and stuff, especially when it comes to hooking up. If you and Gene forged a connection like I think you have, then he’ll be back. He won’t be able to help himself.”

Vicky wanted to believe her. Yet, hadn’t her past taught her to expect only disappointment? She should have known better than to expect love, or even affection. Hadn’t she learned her lesson when it came to men? If her own father and husband couldn’t abide her, then why expect that a man like Gene would? In retrospect, it became clear Gene had helped her out of a sense of duty and slept with her because she was handy.
And because I threw myself at him.

“It’s best this way. He’s right. We’re too different. It would have never worked.”

“What did I tell you about negative talk?”

“That you’d take me outside and give me a snowjob.” Which, as Vicky discovered, involved having her face rubbed with snow until she squealed uncle.

Tammy grinned. “That’s right. So chin up and think happy thoughts. He’s coming back. I’ll even wager on it. And speaking of coming back, I am starved. I’m going to hit the diner down the road for a bite. You want something?”

Her belly rumbled. “Sure. I could use something greasy.”

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Tammy replied with a laugh. “Same toppings as usual?”

“Please.”

“You got it. One greasy burger and fry coming right up. Remember to lock the door behind me.”

The door being the one to an office at the other end of the medical facility, far from the room where Vicky supposedly lay in a coma. Bait for her killer.

As for who lay in the actual bed? A decoy wearing a wig with tubes taped to the face, the blankets drawn high and lights dimmed low so that a quick glance wouldn’t give the ruse away.

The hope was by portraying her in the news as incapacitated they would draw either a new set of killers for questioning or the culprit himself, the identity of whom she still struggled with.

Discreet inquiries by Reid and Brody, even Tammy, who had connections in the insurance world, returned as dead ends. They couldn’t discover who would benefit from Vicky’s death. So their solution was to lay a trap.

Given the elaborate situation was about her, Vicky volunteered to help with the surveillance. Despite the gruff “No” Reid barked, Vicky stood her ground—without fainting, yay—and insisted on taking her turn watching the monitors.

Why not use a guard in the room? Because they didn’t want to scare any attempts away. In order for their plan to work, they needed to make it seem as if she truly slept in that room. A guard would have roused suspicion.

Given the relative smallness of the medical facility, positioning men around it wasn’t feasible, not without giving the ruse away, so they resorted on strategically placed cameras. At the first hint of something wonky, Vicky, or whoever was on watch, was supposed to call Boris, who headed the team of guys who would then swoop in and apprehend the attackers.

Gene would have killed them.

Because he was sweet and protective that way.

How she missed him, especially since he would have so enjoyed kicking some butt. With him around, she would have felt safe, protected, because, oh my god, wouldn’t it figure the moment Tammy left, skulking forms appeared on one of her monitors?

She wouldn’t have pegged them as bad dudes though, if not for the fact they’d managed to avoid getting caught on camera until they landed right outside her hospital room door. Well, not hers technically since she’d never slept in it, but they didn’t know that. They hadn’t come to say hello, not with the rope one held, the gun for another, and the malicious leer on the third as he opened the door.

What happened to the nurse on duty? Vicky flipped to another screen and fiddled with the various channels until she found the nursing station. She caught sight of white-sneaker-clad feet only for a second before a fourth fellow tucked them behind the counter.

Uh oh.

She scrambled for the phone and hit the number one on speed dial.

“Yeah,” answered Boris, the word more like a grunt.

“Bad guys,” she squeaked. “Here. Now.” For those who might have mocked her oratory skills during this time of panic, she said bugger off. At least she was conscious.

“On my way.”

Click
.

Vicky double-checked the lock on the door. Engaged. It didn’t make her feel any better. She paced the room while watching the screen. The lurking figures entered the room with the fake her and surrounded the bed.

Before they could act, Brody, whose turn it was to play possum, flung back the sheets and attacked.

His fist shot out and caught one in the midsection, doubling the guy with the rope in two. Rolling off the bed, Brody narrowly missed the swooping knife that embedded itself in the mattress.

Watching avidly, she couldn’t help a scream of surprise when the knock came at the door. But Vicky didn’t answer. She and Tammy had a system, which Boris insisted on. She waited for the code. A single rap, followed by three quick ones.

Tap. Tap. Tap
.

She let out the breath she held and fumbled the lock until she could swing the door open.

Then she stood staring, jaw open, eyes wide, and a sick feeling forming a ball in her tummy.

“You.”

“Yes. Me. Surprise, I’m not dead. But you soon will be,” said Rick, her not-so-dead husband just before his fist connected with her jaw.

Stay away. That was Gene’s plan. Stay away from Kodiak Point. Stay away from Brody, Reid, and the rest. But most of all stay away from the one woman who’d upset his entire life. Who screwed with his emotions. The one person who dared to make him feel more than anger.

A woman who made him want to love.

He spent hours convincing himself she was better off without him and that she’d get over him—even if he doubted he’d ever forget her. He compiled a list of arguments as to why he should run far away and never return. It was a great list too.

Number one. Women expected romantic gestures.
My idea of romance is giving her oral.
Which she’d enjoy, but certainly wasn’t the flowers and poems she’d probably expect.

Number two. Women wanted to live in houses, not shacks or in a tent on the run.
Although Pima didn’t seem to mind much, and it wouldn’t kill me to maybe get a more permanent place with plumbing.

Number three. Gene hated sharing; his bed, his food, his guns.
Then again, cuddling at night was kind of nice, and watching her eat is arousing. As for letting her touch my guns…
Drool. Nothing hotter than a woman with a weapon.

Number four. He probably wouldn’t live long with the enemies he’d made.
I could always kill them to keep her safe.
Lots of fun times there.

Number five. He’d probably end up with more enemies as he killed people in a jealous fit.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Don’t look. Don’t touch.
Possessiveness was no longer exclusive to items it seemed.

Such a great list of reasons to stay far away—with annoying rebuttals. Meanwhile, his other list extolling why he should go after Vicky had just one really compelling argument;
because I need her.

Need but wouldn’t let himself have, especially since the attack at the bar led him to believe associating with him put her at risk.
Knowing this, Gene did his best to draw
his
attention elsewhere by placing himself in plain sight in various towns across Alaska.

It worked too. Attacks occurred, ambushes, assassination attempts. However, the quality of
his
army left much to be desired. It took way too little effort to kill those who tried to take him down.

But each minion he killed meant one less threat to Vicky.

And he would have continued his bait-and-destroy mission for as long as it took—or he lived—until he happened across a certain news article.

Ripping it to shreds didn’t provide enough venting satisfaction.

The roar he let out shook the walls of the room he rented by the day.

No holding back his anger. Not after seeing this.

They’re dangling Vicky like a fucking carrot!

Completely, utterly, fucking unacceptable. He’d specifically asked Brody to keep his Pima safe, not put out an ad announcing her location. Might as well put a giant bull’s-eye on her for every asshat with a fantasy of becoming a killer for hire.