The Bear King's Captive: Curvy Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance (4 page)

SIX

Commander Hannes Otila, a.k.a. Otso, looked at the Omega 300 on his wrist. The wind gusts at the front of the ship cut through his thin jacket. He made a mental note to get his coat he left in the medical facility earlier. He could just sprout fur, but that would freak-out the crew.

The boat had sailed from port and was making good time. His team’s current mission was completed, except for delivery of the package, but he stayed topside, pacing, prepared for emergency maneuvers if the Coast Guard or Canadian Mounties tried to intercept them.

The commander didn’t expect trouble. This escape plan was ingenious. The CIA would never think of a cargo vessel cruise as an extraction route. He booked the freight voyage months ago, so his group was expected and welcomed. He didn’t worry about anyone identifying his men on the street, no border crossing searches, no high-speed chases.

His men were instructed to “act like they were on a cruise” -- no saluting in public, only use rank when out of earshot of the crewmembers, and most importantly, keep weapons stashed under clothes and easily accessible at all times.

So far, everything had executed perfectly, except for two unexpected guests. The little lady was a spitfire. An unexpected distraction he wouldn’t let go, now that he found her. She meant more than he dared admit to himself. He’d have to keep an eye on her.

Hannes weaved around wooden crates and tarps and perused the thirty-foot column of stacked metal containers. Hundreds filled the ship’s mid-section, leaving a small open area in front of the deckhouse and narrow catwalks running aft to bow along both sides of the ship.

Footsteps behind him echoed off the plated decking. Resting a hand on the night vision binoculars around his neck, he stepped back against the inner railing. He glanced to his right at a man with a lumberjack’s body and light hair, similar to his.

Axel stopped at the commander’s side, stiff-backed, but no salute. “Sir, on my way to the stern, sir.” He nodded and Axel continued down the aisle.

He was proud of his team -- “global asset re-appropriators” he liked to call them. For the right price, they’d steal or re-appropriate almost anything from anywhere on the globe. As long as the job fit within his mission criteria, he’d provide the service.

Snapping him from his thoughts, rapid gunshots from onshore reverberated through the narrow channel. Hannes dropped to one knee, positioning the binoculars over the ship’s solid rail. He scanned the tree-lined coast. Who would be attacking from the Canadian shore?

Two of his men crouched below the railing and hurried toward his central position. Their civilian khaki pants and button down shirts pulled across their hips and shoulders.

After settling into position, hidden objects materialized in their hands. In seconds, each held a fully operational FM90 machine gun ready for deployment.

“Ready, Commander.” Both men raised their guns inches above the rail. Peering through binoculars, Hannes paused on a small break in the trees. Exploding sparks blasted light through the lenses. He pulled away and blinked several times. Black circles floated in his vision as if a crowd of paparazzi surrounded him.

“Set, Commander.” From his kneeling position, Hannes looked up to his left. His gunner lay on top of a twenty-foot high container stack, prepared to unload on command. Hannes smiled; less than fifteen seconds ago, the first shot rang and already his men were ready to retaliate. Damn, they were good--the best.

“On my mark.” His naked eyes looked over the rail and witnessed tiny whirling sparks slowly bouncing up and down along the rocky shore. He yanked the binoculars back to his eyes. After adjusting the settings, the land focused in. Children with hand held sparklers ran back and forth in front of picnic tables loaded with empty dishes and half-eaten food. A boy standing by the water lit a string of firecrackers. Another series of rapid pops floated across the water.

Hannes jumped up, furious with himself. The civilians were celebrating Canada’s Thanksgiving in a park. The two men crouching along the rail fell over laughing.

“Don’t you have stations to man?”

Both men shot to their feet. “Sir, yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” They trotted their separate ways, still snickering.

Hannes glanced up at his gunner, but he disappeared. He leaned his forty-one-year-old body against a rusty container. While he waited for his pulse and adrenaline to return to normal, he ran his fingers through his hair. Damn children and their families.

Although he cursed them, he remembered yearning for the love and warmth of a family. The thought of coming home to the arms of a beautiful and adoring wife with children running around their feet set a twinge of longing inside him.

But his sanity learned to bury the hurt from something he could never have. He took comfort in knowing his sister, with his nephew and niece, were safe. He lost track of her after his father’s funeral fifteen years ago.

After hearing news about Otilas living in the states, he set out to find her. So much time and pain had passed since their last words to each other. He was relieved when she agreed to meet, but even after seeing him for the first time in years, she wouldn’t forgive him. He was no longer the brother she knew. How true that was.

The stinging wind chilled his face and cleared his mind. He needed to get his men inside to eat and stop wasting time on memories. Those reminiscences belonged at rest with the honorable soldier who deserved them--a soldier officially declared dead ten years ago.             

When Hannes stepped onto the bridge, the captain and his crew had already settled in for the voyage. The squat man dressed in white with emblems on the shoulders of his jacket turned toward him. The captain’s lower eyelids tightened. Fists settled at his sides.

With a stone poker face, Hannes stopped within a foot of the man.

The captain growled, “How dare you wait this long to see me, amigo.”

Hannes’ eyes narrowed. “Yes, my friend, I agree with you for once.” Both men broke into smiles and quickly hugged with a slap on the back. “It has been much too long.”

“Sí, I am glad you come on my ship.” The captain motioned to a sliding door on the other side of the bridge’s long aisle. Hannes slid open the entry and stepped into the chart room. He skirted the round table consuming most of the small space and pulled out a chair at the computer desk in the corner.

The captain leaned against the table. “Tell me, what bring you to my floating home, amigo?” 

Hannes smiled. “Just a visit to the American Defense Department to re-appropriate information across the continents.”

The short round man burst into laughter. “Señor, you loco as ever.”

“When I discovered you’d be in Cleveland, I couldn’t hire anyone else to take us home.”

The captain winked. “Especially since we have special cargo, no?”

Hannes’ smile faded and he dropped his sight from the man in front of him. “This special cargo wasn’t what I had in mind. But I had no choice since we were leaving. Have you seen them?”

“Them? I thought bounty hunter want one person.”

“So did I.” Hannes ran fingers through his hair. “We have a female and a boy as guests for the next few weeks.”
              Straightening to his feet, the captain crossed his arms and frowned. “Woman and child?”
              “That’s who Roclas wants.” Both men shifted uncomfortably at the drug lord’s name.

“What she do to get him mad? And the boy?”

“I don’t know, but I will find out.” He lifted a brow toward the ship’s commander. “What about your crew?”

“No worry, amigo. I tell mí men she belong to Roclas. They no touch her or boy with ten feet stick.”

Hannes nodded. “Everything looking good for the trip home?” He stood from the corner desk. They clasped hands.

“Perfecto. Calm seas and no sign of trouble.” 

Inside the ship’s warm galley one floor below the guest cabins, Hannes sat at the head of a long metal table. Shiny stainless steel walls and floors surrounded the combined eating area and kitchen. The aroma of fried sausage, eggs, and potatoes hung in the air.

He glanced to his right at his two muscle clad men. Their polo shirts stretched across tense shoulders. Both gave a curt nod. On his left, the strongest, toughest soldier he ever trained glared down the ten-chair table at the group of Spaniards talking amongst themselves.

Hannes pondered why the bounty hunting man, who he allowed onboard with the other Spanish men he hired for this mission, would want to kill a young boy. And how could the feisty little lady be a target.

Was he missing something? He replayed the event in his mind, focusing on details that might be important.

The evening air on the ship had been wet and cold. Hannes had stood on deck in to the lounge area—umbrellas folded and chairs scattered along the deckhouse exterior. He thought he had heard gunshots, but couldn’t be sure with the crane and forklift noise.

He was anxious to get to his country and safety. Hands in his bulky coat pockets, he watched Lieutenant Korhonen bark directions to the boarding forklift and smiled. He needed to remind his second-in-command they were disguised as normal cruising passengers, not mercenaries in the midst of returning home. Plus, the ship’s captain wouldn’t take kindly to a stranger ordering the crew around.

Loading procedures wound down; deckhands traipsed toward the vessel’s housing to briefly meet with their captain before pushing off. His own group was accounted for, except one.

The last of the crewmembers vacated the area. Hannes stopped his second-in-command at the deckhouse entrance. “Is our equipment stowed and everything good, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Commander. All deckhands have been identified. No extra personnel. Our heavy equipment is securely stored."

“Well done.”

Squealing wheels entering the harbor caught Hannes’ attention. He glanced over his shoulder as the car skidded to a stop next to the warehouses. “Go on, Lieutenant. I’ll be in shortly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hannes hurried off the ramp connecting the boat and dock. The pier security car with two night patrolmen turned the corner at the end of the long stretch of warehouses. They kept a tight schedule with little variation in their routine. He had nine minutes before the route brought the guards back to this side of the warehouses.

Staying in shadows, he slinked closer to the newly arrived vehicle. As he watched from the port, Diego slinked out the vehicle’s door and pressed his back against the metal building. The commander frowned. The stink of anxiety from the hunter hit him. Something was going down.

Hannes was promised if he let the bounty hunter get this prey, there would be no issues, everything would remain under the radar, and he wouldn’t even know when the hunter left or returned to the ship. He grunted. So much for that.

A delicious scent floated in the air. He took in a deeper breath. His insides twisted, awakening a beast he fought to keep hidden. Hannes followed the smell toward the cargo containers stacked on the dock.

Finding the girl and boy hiding among the containers surprised him. Surely, Diego had nothing to do with them. They seemed as innocuous as children, but the woman smelled heavenly. He wanted more of her. Then he noted the boy and his
issue
.

When he had her against the light pole, his animal pulled at his skin. It wanted out. It wanted this woman under them, teeth in her shoulder. Hannes shook his head. Teeth in her shoulder? Why would that thought come into his mind? And what was it about this one woman that brought to the surface something he’d spent years suppressing? Something he refused to recognize within himself. Something that scared the shit out him.

But damn, she smelled so good; he couldn’t help but breath her in, taking as much of her as he could. Mate. Mate. Mate. The words hammered inside his head and ordered him to take the woman. To protect her. To keep her. She was his.

When the boy screamed and slumped to the side, Hannes knew what happened. How could Diego shoot an innocent boy? Anger set a blazing fire within him. His eyes searched the warehouse fronts. Movement between shadows gave away his man’s position. Hannes strode toward the buildings.

“Diego, stand down!” Several container rows ahead, Diego stepped into the light. The thick downturned moustache signaled his displeasure at being called out. The commander’s fists clenched tighter and fur popped through his forearm’s pores.

Diego lunged back into the aisle. From Hannes’ position outside the stacks, he tracked the shooter heading down the center aisle by listening to his heavy boots. Hannes pulled the gun from his back waistband holster and tucked it into his coat pocket. “Obedezca mi orden.” If Diego refused to obey his order, one less man would be returning to Spain.

A female scream echoed over the rusty stacks.

“Goddammit. I said stop!” Hannes skidded around a corner, into the path of a wild woman. He glanced down the aisle and saw Diego slip away. His attention focused on the lady pulling his coat.

He caught her flinging arms and pulled her against his chest. She was suddenly much closer than he intended. Her mussed hair smelled like just-picked flowers. Pale skin shimmered like porcelain against her terrified dark eyes. He had wanted to touch her cheek, assure her she was safe now, tuck her into himself, enveloping her body with his.