Polar Bared (6 page)

“Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you. Not at the moment anyhow. But if you give me your phone number or a mailing address, I can send you something. Money, supplies…” She trailed off as he stood abruptly and loomed over her.

“I don’t need anything from you.”

And with those words, he stomped out of the door.

What did I say to make him seem so angry?
Vicky stared at the closed portal wondering but not for long. She had more important issues than a man who didn’t seem to know how to interact socially.

Such as, how was she getting out of here? And would he let her go? Despite his claim he’d take her, she had to wonder. And once she got back to camp, what then?

He seemed convinced someone tried to drug her, but who and why?

I don’t need anything from you.

What a lie. Gene did want something from her, but it wasn’t anything as tangible as goods or funds. On the contrary, what he craved was a chance to redo the morning. To take advantage of the naked curves pressed against his. To taste her full lips and put a flush on Vicky’s cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment but everything to do with arousal.

I’m such a twisted bastard.

He couldn’t even rescue a woman without turning it into something about him. But then again, who could blame him? When was the last time he’d lain with a woman? The last time he’d sunk his cock into a woman’s welcoming heat and pounded his way to release?

He was horny. Plain and simple. It had nothing to do with this particular woman and everything to do with a man and his normal physical needs. Needs this Vicky could never fulfill.

Only an idiot would miss how timid she was or how she flinched and practically curled in on herself
every time he spoke. She acted as if she expected a slap every
time she opened her mouth.

Was she truly that much of a mouse? Or had she experienced that kind of abuse at the hands of another?

I’ll kill him. Hunt him down, smack him around, and when he’s crying for mercy, drag him back to Vicky to show her she never has to fear again.
A great plan, but one he wouldn’t follow through with because she was none of his business.

Why an urge to protect rose in him, one that had his bear snarling inside his head, he couldn’t have said. Vicky and her issues weren’t his problem. Her lack of bravery and predilection for fainting when frightened were annoying. The fact someone drugged her coffee, perturbing.

The fact he wanted to keep her, appalling.

Kidnapping for vengeance and ransom was one thing. Keeping a woman to satisfy his needs was not. Only perverts did that.

And very lonely bears.

Other bears maybe, not him.

Gene didn’t need anybody. Especially not a short, curvy, myopic, timid, caramel-skinned female who currently poked her head out the door to announce in a low voice, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I was allowed to leave.”

Out of curiosity, he queried, “And if I say you’re not? That I’ve changed my mind? That you’re staying here?”

Her eyes widened. Not in fright it surprised him to notice, but interest. She ducked her head as she said, “I really shouldn’t stay. People will eventually wonder where I am.”

“People? No special someone? Friends in the expedition?” Him, fishing for info to see her relationship status? Never. Reconnoitering was just habit.

She shook her head and foolishly answered. “No one. My husband died a while ago. And I’ve been an orphan since my teens.”

He could have smacked her for being so foolish. First rule of survival, never admit to vulnerability. “You mean you came here by yourself?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“To prove I could.” How defensively she uttered it, but also with a hint of defiance.

“To who?”

“Myself. I’ve never gone on an adventure before.”

He could almost admire her reason. “So you chose the harshest place on earth?”

“I wanted to see the polar bears.”

He could have shaken her at the answer, especially since it made his bear chuff in pleasure. “So go to a fucking zoo.”

“I did. But I wanted to experience more than that. I wanted to see them outside of a cage. Living free.”

Funny how the first polar bear she’d found didn’t fit that criteria. Gene might have escaped his desert prison, but he’d created his own cage, one of anger and vengeance.

“So is almost getting eaten worth the picture? Was almost dying of exposure worth the little paper you could have written about your arctic adventure?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes and didn’t answer.

He sighed. Why did he feel like such a dick? “Get your shit. We’re leaving.”

No surprise, she didn’t reply, just ducked her head back in, but only for a moment before she emerged again, fully dressed, toting her backpack, but her face bare.

“Where are your glasses?”

She shrugged. “Lost. How did you know I wore some?”

“You squint, Pima.”

“Pima? My name is Vicky.”

“I know what your name is. But I choose to call you Pima. Pain in my ass.”

“Well excuse me, Nobody,” she sassed back with the first ounce of fire he’d seen in her. A spark shortly lived as she gasped in shock and cringed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. I’m not going to slap you, even if you are a major pain in my ass.” Shouldering his own pack, he turned away from her. “Follow me.”

Easier said than done. He’d gone only a few dozen yards before he realized he couldn’t sense her nearby. He turned around to see her struggling to catch him, her breath panting in the cold air.

He sighed. Short legs on his caramel Pima to his long ones meant he’d have to temper his pace. He should also think about replacing the snowmobile he’d left behind when he’d fled Kodiak Point weeks ago. Going everywhere on foot or paw could prove tiresome, especially when he needed to lug supplies.

But he didn’t have the time to go sled shopping now—aka stealing—and if he didn’t bring her back, any expedition, even one as poorly run as this one—fucking idiots letting newbies roam around by themselves—would have to report her disappearance and send out a rescue party.

Unless they wanted her dead.

The drugged coffee still bothered him. Vicky claimed she wasn’t suicidal, but hearing that her husband had died and seeing how out of place she was out here, he had to wonder. Had he foiled her plan to end her life? Was she so despondent over her mate’s death she didn’t want to go on?

His gut rejected it. While Vicky appeared timid, he didn’t get the impression she was the type to give in to despair. Hints of a possible feisty nature lurked under the surface. There had to be, given the way she’d not only decided to come here in the first place but, despite all that had happened, she never actually freaked out.

Sure she flinched and ducked her head and talked little at times, but honestly, she’d taken things much better than he would have expected. He’d anticipated some hysterics. Maybe some crying, women did so love their tears. Perhaps some yelling. His own mother, that crazy fucking cow, would have screamed like a banshee had she woken up naked in a stranger’s embrace.

His Pima? She’d almost seemed disappointed when the cuddling had to end.

Ugh. Had he just used the dreaded C-word? Teddy bears cuddled, polar bears… He didn’t know what the fuck his kind did other than maul things for dinner, but it sure as hell wasn’t anything so emasculating as cuddling.

In silence, if he ignored her huffing, they approached the embankment edge that led to the lapping sea, and he veered so that they walked parallel to it. Neither of them spoke, but he could feel her glancing at him. Her curious gaze itched at him until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What is it? What do you want to ask?” he snarled.

“N-nothing.”

“Vicky…” He growled her name.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… You still haven’t told me your name. And I wondered what you were doing out here. Are you studying stuff like me?”

“My name is Gene,”
but my enemies call me Ghost.
“This is my home.” He couldn’t believe he told her.
Loose lips could get him killed, but then again, he doubted she ran in the type of circles that would care about her rescue by an ornery bastard called Gene. But just in case she did relay her tale to the wrong person, he should probably move on. A shame, he enjoyed the remote location.

“You mean you live here all the time?”

“Most of it. I do spend some time in town, but I prefer the solitude of my hut. I find people annoying.”

“Isn’t it lonely?”

He almost said yes. “Why do you care?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

“Stop apologizing.” He glared at her as he snapped it, and he could see the wall around her coming up, a wall to keep her safe from retaliation. It angered him. “Why are you still flinching? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I can’t help it,” was her whispered reply.

He wanted to shake her for the inadequate answer, do something, but shit happened.

A peak of ice just behind Vicky exploded into a thousand fragments, and it didn’t take his wartime experience to realize someone had just shot at them.

Instantly, his body was in motion, tackling hers to the ground.

She squeaked, “What’s happening?”

“Shh. Someone just fired at us.”

Facing her for just a moment, he saw her eyes widen, but at least she remained awake.

Two more cracks echoed over the icy plain. They both missed but came close enough to kick up some snow and ice.

“Fuckers,” he growled. They were sitting seals out in the open. He needed to get them to cover. “When I say move, you get your round ass behind the hump of ice to your right. Got it?”

She nodded.

As Gene unholstered his gun, he could only hope she’d make it without passing out. He couldn’t afford distraction with his enemies intent on harm.

“Ready. Set. Move.” He jumped to his feet, his hand gripping the pistol rising and firing in the direction the shots came from. No time to aim. He fired blindly as a cover for Vicky, who scooted behind the short ice hill.

Good girl.

With one worry gone, he tried to focus on the horizon, looking for a speck or movement to indicate where the shooter hid. He didn’t spot him immediately, but even dressed in varying shades of white, Gene made a good target.

The next enemy bullet tore a furrow through his jacket and left a bloody gouge along his upper arm. But his enemy had made a mistake. Gene noted the shooter’s position.

Off he took running, zigzagging erratically to make himself a harder target. Over and over, he fired his pistol at the enemy’s location.

Score! A yelp of pain and the return fire stopped.

A fierce grin split his lips.
I’ve got you now.

Actually, what he got was a dead body.

Fuck. Gene stood over the human whose eyes stared sightlessly, the shot to his chest having caused a massive bleed out, which meant no answers. As if Gene needed any.

It seemed the one he’d chosen to quit working for had hired some thugs to try and take him out.

And humans at that. What an insult. As if the Ghost would succumb to such an unworthy opponent.

It will take more than a human to take me down.

Funny how a certain pair of brown eyes came to mind as he thought it. Never, never would he succumb to the allure of a woman. Any woman. No matter how sweet she looked. Despite how she attracted him.

Now if only he could convince his bear, who seemed to think Gene would change his mind if he gave her a few licks.

She’s not candy.
But he’d bet she tasted sweet.

Dammit, he needed to get rid of her, the sooner, the better—before he did something stupid, like give in to temptation.

More bad luck. Vicky truly was plagued, and not just since she’d come on this expedition.

Her run of misfortune had begun months ago, starting with the incident involving the brakes on her car. The mechanic had stated she was lucky to be alive given the fluid in the line had leaked out. The tree she hit didn’t fare very well, and neither did the front end of her car. The bruises on her face took weeks to heal because, as it turned out, airbags weren’t as soft and cushy as they appeared.

Then there was the carbon monoxide debacle. The bird’s nest might have completely blocked the outlet pipe on her gas-powered hot water tank, but the alarm she’d invested in after hearing a story on the news totally saved her life.

Oh and she shouldn’t forget the car that sideswiped her when she was out riding her new bike. The poor bush she landed in would never be the same.

It seemed since Rick’s death she’d survived more than her fair share of mishaps and now this. Someone shooting at her. Well, technically shooting at her and Gene, but still, there were bullets aimed in her direction.

It was a wonder she remained conscious. She also had to wonder about her rescuer. Her hero was turning out to have a dark side.

Heroes didn’t cuss or bark or have guns that they pulled out without a qualm to shoot with.
Less hero, more like villain I think. What have I gotten myself into?
Had she accidentally wandered into something deadly? Was her tough knight some kind of criminal or fugitive? Maybe a drug runner or poacher?

He certainly bore the dangerous look of a man familiar with violence.

“Are you okay?” His sudden reappearance, silent as it was, had her screaming, a cry cut short as he placed a hand over her mouth.

“Shh. We don’t know if there are more of them out there. I need you to keep your voice down. Understood?”

She nodded, and he removed his hand. “Why is someone shooting as us?”

“Shooting at me you mean. Let’s just say I have enemies.”

He didn’t elaborate on why he did, though. “Did you find the shooter?” she asked.

He nodded.

She couldn’t help but ask, “And?”

“He won’t be shooting anymore.”

His cold statement left no illusion as to what he meant. She swallowed and fought against the faintness threatening.
Don’t you dare pass out now, Victoria Lola Sanchez!
she sternly rebuked herself, and it worked, for now.