by Bianca James
Claiming
His
Mountain Bride
Bear Mountain Baby Daddies Book 3
Bianca James
About the Author
I write wickedly hot, steamy romance stories that will leave you gasping. Yes, they are a little over the top, but there’s nothing like a quick, dirty read about an alpha male or a sinful, forbidden relationship to spice up the day, is there? If you like your romance scorching hot and very, very naughty, then my stories are for you!
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Copyright © 2018 Bianca James. All rights reserved.
Prologue
The whole world looked green. Murky, liquid green with limned highlights in bright silver as the figures moved about their business, unaware that they were being observed.
Erin Parker adjusted her night vision goggles, tucking an errant lock of blonde hair behind her ear as she did so. When she woke that very morning, she had no idea she was going to end up on a stakeout, lying on the damp cold ground with bugs and insects—she hated bugs and insects—crawling all over her, pine needles and leaves falling from the copse of trees behind her, seemingly determined to find their way into her hair, ears and down her collar, making her itch like crazy. And if that wasn’t enough, the very dirt upon which she lay was drawn inexplicably into every tiny opening in her blouse making her feel gritty and disgusting. Had she known all that, though, she could have saved herself an hour in the bathroom performing her usual shampoo, hair conditioner and straightening iron routine.
She couldn’t begin to imagine how she looked. As much as she wanted to believe she looked sexy and badass like Alicia Vikander’s Lara Croft, she knew that in all likelihood she looked less like that and more like what her mother would call ‘the wreck of the Hesperus’. Her disheveled hair was festooned with leaves and twigs — and bugs. Totally not sexy and definitely not badass at all.
That’s the price you pay for being a deep cover spy and having to keep the bad guys under surveillance, my girl, she thought, flicking another fat, ugly, black legged, iridescent shelled bug from her shirtsleeve.
In reality Erin was about as far from being a deep cover spy as it was possible to get. Although she was fit and toned, that was the result of daily workouts at the City Gym rather than saving the world in badass style. Erin was nothing like Lara Croft, despite her active and overly romantic imaginings. Not to mention the fact that she was actually a reporter. An intern reporter, at that. Worse still, an intern reporter assigned to the social beat—reporting on breaking news like other people’s tragic social lives, when she didn’t even have one of her own, tragic or otherwise.
More often than not, her job involved following a bunch of pointless hashtags on social media to stay abreast of ‘what’ and ‘who’ was trending. Hardly the explosive exposé of political and criminal conspiracy, intrigue and scandal she’d hoped to write about in her chosen career as a hard hitting, undercover investigative reporter.
Soon, though, all that was going to change. Erin Parker, who co-workers had nicknamed ‘Nosey’ Parker behind her back, was on the cusp of her big break. Her exclusive, once-in-a-lifetime scoop. A story so big that it had the potential to blow the lid clean off something insidious that had, amazingly, been going on right under our noses for a very, very long time. If only she could capture the evidence she needed to prove it. She knew it was there and she knew she’d be the one to find it—right here on Bear Mountain.
Of course, she wasn’t supposed to be on Bear Mountain. She wasn’t supposed to be on any mountain at all, in fact. Her given assignment was to interview a bunch of twenty-something’s at a symposium on the ‘connection between culture, language and technology in a digital world’. Just saying it nearly put her to sleep and made her want to stab herself in the eye with a blunt fork.
The promise of a really big story was something she just couldn’t ignore. Impetuous was the word her editor had used to describe her. In fact, she recalled that every teacher she’d ever had in school and every college professor had used a similar word to describe her. Impulsive, reckless, headstrong. The list went on. Well, she’d show them. There was something going on in Bear Mountain. She knew it. She could feel it. Her editor and colleagues were too short sighted to see it. They were a bunch of asshats. Erin could see the big picture and she knew that the statistical probability of the recent events happening in the one place were a zillion to one. If only she could get the proof.
“Coincidence. Just a stupid bunch of tin foil hat conspiracy nonsense.” Kevin Harris, her editor had snubbed her research, barely glancing at it through his coke-bottle glasses. With only a small tuft of hair atop his bald pate, Kevin looked every bit like his Minion namesake and Erin was determined to show him how wrong he was.
Viper attack helicopters, Hellfire anti-tank missiles, Russian Mi-28 ‘Havoc’ gunships and H&K MP4 tactical machine pistols and C4 demolition charges thrown in just in case that wasn’t enough. Coincidence my ass. All hell was breaking loose on this mountain and I’m going to find out why…
Then Erin was shaken from her reverie—
Suddenly the ground shuddered. Literally an earth shattering whoompf that punched her in the gut and echoed through every bone in her body.
Her view of the goings on below her hiding spot was suddenly blocked by something large.
Something very large.
Right in front of her, only inches away.
It looked like a man, but it couldn’t be. It was impossibly large with broad, powerful shoulders that tapered to a narrow, lithe waistline. Outside of a televised body building competition, she’d never seen anything like it.
Whatever it was, it oozed raw power and had a raw sense of danger about it. It looked strong enough to take down a Grizzly Bear, something she knew frequented this part of Montana.
Erin swallowed hard. She was a whole lot smaller than any Grizzle Bear.
Chapter 1
The huge rescue helicopter bobbled and bumped violently as its rotor blades fought to generate lift in the impossibly thin air near the top of the mountain. Each time former Navy pilot Lt. Jim ‘Spider’ Webb gained a few feet in altitude by white knuckling the collective and pulling it as far up as it would go, the normally elegant graceful Sikorsky would drop a couple of feet as the blades clawed at the air like Wylie Coyote just to stay aloft. With each stomach lurching fall, Spider would boost the power a little more in the hope of regaining the lost altitude. It wasn’t working.
“You’re going to have to set her down,” shouted Jarrad, the High Mountain Ranger who always volunteered to fly these hazardous rescue missions with Bear Mountain’s most experienced chopper pilot. “I can climb the rest of the way and bring them down the mountain for evac.” Even with the comms headsets, both men had to shout to be heard over the screaming, straining turboshaft engines.
The original plan was to reach the fallen climber in the chopper and lower Jarrad using the winch, and then winch them both to the safety of the hovering aircraft. They didn’t really have a Plan B. That’s not how they rolled. Failure was not an option for this duo. Their ‘get-it-done’ attitude had been forged in close quarters battle during urban combat in desert cities that were a sharp contrast to where they were now. But as Spider always said, you can take the man out of the Marines, but you can never take the Marine’s out of the man.
With the muscles in his forearms corded like steel cables as he wrestled the controls ‘Spider’ nodded reluctantly. The climber was badly injured and time was critical, especially
with the chill factor at this altitude, but Jarrad’s idea was their best shot at a successful outcome.
But there was nowhere to put the ungainly chopper down. Although they were above the snowline and the heavily wooded forest lay below them, there was still too much vegetation for a safe landing at that altitude.
“Looks like we’re going to have to do a little gardening to make an LZ,” Spider called out, pointing to a flat, lightly wooded area below. It wasn’t the perfect Landing Zone, but it was all they had to work with.
“Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?” Jarrad said with as equal parts disbelief and admiration in his voice.
“Yee-Haa!” laughed Spider over the cacophony of the thrashing blades and whining engines. “I’m ready to turn this baby into a giant hedge trimmer.”
Clutching his harness, Jarrad’s eyes widened with a mixture of exhilaration and sheer terror as Spider dropped a little closer to the trees and pushed forward on the cyclic stick to tilt the struggling chopper into a nose down attitude. Within seconds the tips of the spinning rotors were gnawing at the treetops as the chopper spun on its axis, creating a large makeshift helipad on the side of the mountain.
“They didn’t teach you that in the Marine’s, I’m guessing?” Jarrad quizzed, undoing his harness as the helicopter settled its skids on the uneven ground.
“My Granddad flew Huey’s in Vietnam during the seventies. He told me a few tall tales, including how they used to do that. Guess it was one of the true stories, then.” He winked at Jarrad.
“You mean you didn’t know if that was going to work?” Jarrad’s jaw dropped.
“But it did, though, didn’t it?”
As far as Spider was concerned, that’s all that mattered. He was all about the mission.
“Now, I’ve done my amazing pilot stuff, you go do your High Mountain Rescue thing and bring us back another successful ‘save’.”
With that, Jarrad nodded firmly, grabbed his pack and tumbled out of the chopper’s cargo door. Jarrad was one big unit. Even next to the imposing bulk of the Sikorsky, his size was still impressive and one of the main factors that caused the aircraft to struggle to maintain altitude. But Spider didn’t want Jarrad to know that. It wasn’t his fault he was built like a Russian tank.
Stooping as low as he could to avoid the still rotating blades, Spider kept the engine idling ready for a fast take off, Jarrad threw his pack and climbing gear over his shoulder and made his way to the nearby cliff face. Until now, he’d been nothing more than a passenger. Excess baggage, as he saw it. Now, it was time to go to work.
It was times like these that made Jarrad realize how much he missed the action. But those days were behind him and he had a family to think about now. Bear Mountain was a safe sanctuary for him, far from the urban jungles, armored vehicles and IEDs.
Besides, Elle had a baby on the way, so now he had a family to think about. A family. Just that thought alone would have weighed heavily on him six months ago. Now, it warmed his heart, uplifted him and gave him joy and a sense of purpose that had been sorely missing from his life. For the first time, he had responsibilities and someone other than himself to think about, worry about and share his life with. Elle accepted him as he was and loved him dearly. Jarrad was her lover and friend and father-to-be of their baby and her fierce protector. Jarrad would never let anything happen to his soul mate.
But now was not the time to allow such musings to become a life threatening distraction. He had a job to do and a mission to complete. A life was at stake, as there nearly always was when you were a High Mountain Rescue Ranger. It was more than just a job. For Jarrad and Spider, it was a calling and they took their duty seriously. Protecting others was in their DNA. That’s how both men found their way into the military, using their specific talents and skill sets to protect others.
No time to be dwelling on the past. Focus!
Jarrad raised his head toward the sky. He scented ozone. Bad weather wasn’t too far away and closing in on them. The weather and time were conspiring against them. He began to climb the face of the cliff at a pace he hoped would have him lowering the injured climber down for Spider to pick them up before the storm front hit.
Distant lightning cracked like a whip and lit the sky with jagged fingers. Thunder rolled along the valley toward the mountain, issuing a dire warning.
Chapter 2
Spider took the Sikorsky as low as he dared. Too low and he’d lose valuable time climbing back up to reach Jarrad and the injured climber. If he stayed too close to the evac point, he’d burn too much fuel trying to maintain position in the rarified air and he was of no use to anyone if he ran out of fuel. There was nowhere to set her down, so he maintained position and hoped that Jarrad would give him the call before his fuel situation became critical.
If he were flying strictly by the rule book, he’d have been forced to turn back by now to refuel. But up in the high mountain ranges, making the ‘save’ was more important than following a bunch of rules put together by desk bound pilots or the ‘chair force’ as Spider called them. They couldn’t make the ‘saves’ he made if their lives depended on it.
Suddenly, Spider caught a glimpse of something from his peripheral vision as he jostled the control stick and tweaked the collective to keep the chopper in position as a sudden updraft swept up the mountainside from the valley below.
Muscle memory and years of flying in some of the most hazardous warzones on the planet kicked in and before he had even processed what the contrail speeding toward him meant, he was altering his altitude and flying toward the lethal, heat seeking Ataka missile at full throttle. This was no time to be conserving fuel. He needed to close the gap between himself and the aptly named Russian missile. Who said the Russians didn’t have a sense of humor. Naming one of their fastest and most deadly heat seeking missiles attack made up in giggle factor what it lacked in originality. Spider only hoped he got the last laugh by living long enough to jam one of these things up the ass of the guy who fired one at him.
Not a man to swallow coincidences easily, Spider quickly joined the dots. They were back. For months Spider, Jarrad and Elle had been trying to convince themselves that the cabal of East European criminals had got the message to leave Bear Mountain well alone. They really had convinced themselves that their message had been received loud and clear. This is our mountain…don’t come back.
Apparently they were wrong and the hurtling missile with the wispy contrail seemed to make that point quite clear.
Full throttle and nose down the unarmed rescue helicopter flew headlong toward the missile. His only hope of beating the thing was to close the gap and come within range before it armed and locked onto his heat signature. It’s one weakness was a safety feature to prevent friendly fire incidents in which the missile might accidently lock onto a nearby friendly aircraft before it reached the designated enemy target.
If Spider could close the gap, the missile should bypass him as a ‘friendly’ and explode harmlessly on the mountainside. Then two thoughts stuck him simultaneously. The mountainside. Jarrad.
“Oh, shit!” But even as the words left his lips, the sleek Russian made missile streaked past him as if oblivious to his presence and continued on toward the mountain. Toward Jarrad.
Chapter 3
“Preacher we got trouble.” Jarrad’s radio squawked. Would he ever stop cringing when they used his old army call sign? It had been a long time since he’d had an enemy target in his cross hairs ready to help him find Jesus.
Jarrad keyed his mike, the tension in Spider’s voice evident, even over the crackle of the radio handset. “What kind of trouble?” he asked.
“The kind that fires a Russian made air-to-air missile at an unarmed rescue helicopter,” Spider acknowledged. “Evasive maneuver successful, thanks for asking, but the damn thing is now en route to you.”
Swallowing hard, Jarrad weighed up his options. “What about the climber?” he spoke hurriedly into his mike.
“Wake up and smell the coffee, you big dumb Ranger. We’ve been set up, there is no injured climber,” Spider snapped back.
Shit!
Not wasting a second more the strong, robust and extremely well-built former Army Ranger sought purchase on the wall of ice and rock, clinging to it as if his life depended it. Because it did.
The high pitched whine of the solid fuel rocket engine gave little warning of the impending explosion. By the time the sound reached Jarrad’s ears, the laser proximity fuse in the supersonic missiles warhead detonated before impact with the mountain, maximizing the shockwave and spread of shrapnel. The weapon was designed to bring down the largest and fastest aircraft with devastating efficiency.
The impact of the shockwave was bone jarring. Scorching hot shrapnel from the missile peppered the air and pieces of rock were blasted away from the cliff face. To Jarrad it felt as if he was standing in front of the barrel of an enormous shotgun as it fired. Gripping his the fissures in the rock for dear life and hunching as best he could to take the brunt of the force on his thickly muscled back Jarrad’s struggled to maintain his grip against the overwhelming force.
Then, just as suddenly it was over. He was alive. Still attached to the rock face and no major arteries or organs had been sliced by the white hot shards of metal propelled by the deafening blast.
But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Doing his best to maintain his grip on the rock, Jarrad pulled a chunk of sizzling hot metal from his thigh. Almost instantly, as the piece of shrapnel was removed, the bleeding started. He made the decision to leave the remaining shards of metal in place, sealing the wounds until he could get his hands on a first aid kit. The pungent stink of burned flesh was a reminder of how close he’d come to becoming nothing more than a bloody stain on the mountainside.