by Terry Spear
Taming the Wild Cougar
Terry Spear
Terry Spear
Contents
Untitled
Untitled
Copyright
Synopsis
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Terry Spear:
Untitled
Taming the Wild Cougar
Heart of the Cougar, Book 3
Terry Spear
Untitled
PUBLISHED BY:
Terry Spear
Taming the Wild Cougar
Copyright © 2015 by Terry Spear
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Discover more about Terry Spear at:
http://www.terryspear.com/
Cover Art by Tell-Tale Designs
ISBN-13: 2940152058949
Synopsis
Synopsis
Cougar shifter, Dr. Kate Parker, is planning her annual camping vacation alone this year. She runs into trouble before she even starts her trip in the form of one wounded, hot cougar, undercover agent—or so he says. He’s not going along with just her tender loving care because he came into town as a cougar, and he needs her help to get him back to where he can take up the search to look for an arms dealer, who just happens to be a cougar too.
Leyton Hill slipped into the unlocked, darkened clinic, figuring his luck had just changed. Except he doesn’t plan for the good doctor to be napping in her office. Taking him on her vacation wasn’t in the plan, and taking her hostage, hadn’t been either, but now she’s stuck with him until he can get back to his mission and the chase at hand. Yet it appears the roles have reversed and who’s holding whom hostage now?
To my good friend, Dawn Marie Hamilton, who I love seeing at conferences and enjoy getting to hang out with her. Thanks for being such a dear friend!
Prologue
On high alert, Leyton Hill and his teammates, members of the extremely skilled Rangers, a sophisticated raid force in the Army, moved like shadows through the woods, located an encampment of enemy terrorists, and flex cuffed them before they even woke in their beds. He’d had days of firefights at night, one mission after another, when he had a night of reprieve and thought he saw a soldier exchange a confiscated terrorist weapon for money. The guy wasn’t a Ranger, just someone with another unit they were working with.
Before Leyton jumped the gun, he did a little checking. The guy’s name was Bart Smith, and he was a cougar shifter, just like Leyton, not that anyone else would be aware of their…uniqueness.
For two days now, they’d been in a pacified area, no fighting, no trouble, but they could never let down their guard. The next thing he knew the fighting broke out all over again. He protected his good friend Travis MacKay, fellow Ranger, tackling him and throwing him to the ground, then rolled away to take out as many of the terrorists shooting at them as he could, when he saw Bart Smith aiming a rifle at him. He was supposed to be on Leyton’s side, his blue eyes narrowed as he fired. Chaos reigned everywhere, the fighting forcing everyone to take cover and shoot back. All but Leyton Hill, who lay in a bloodied heap, fighting for his life. He would take down that traitorous bastard, if it was the last thing on earth that he did.
1
The Colorado summer’s day appeared awash in blue—the lakes, the sky, the mountains, even the forest—beautiful, if Leyton Hill hadn’t been on a killing mission. His target?
The man who had nearly killed him in Afghanistan, Bart Smith, now known as Butch Sanders, and sniper trained. The bastard had turned a terrorist’s rifle on Leyton his last day in Afghanistan, and with all the shooting going on, no one had seen Butch fire the rounds that had nearly killed him.
Now, both, no longer in the military, were running as cougars through the pine forests of Colorado. Butch seemed to know this territory as if he had been born and raised here. Every once in a while, he left tell-tale cougar pugmarks in mud, or a scruff of tan cougar fur snagged on shrubbery, like leaving bread crumbs in the wild that he hadn’t meant to. Or had he?
Leyton had never been to Colorado as a cougar, never traveled through White Fork River in the Flat Tops Wilderness, so he was at a strong disadvantage. Not to mention he'd had to leave his vehicle, clothes, and weapons behind several hours ago in Cheyenne, Wyoming before he crossed the border.
No matter what, Leyton was supposed to check in with his boss concerning news of what he’d learned by next weekend. At this rate, that deadline would be shot to hell. He couldn’t do anything about it now. He had to learn where Butch had hidden the gun used to kill Leyton’s informant, that he’d planted Leyton’s fingerprint on. It wasn’t unheard of for some corrupt cops to plant evidence like that. Just use powder to look for prints, then lift the fingerprint with a piece of sticky tape and place it on the incriminating evidence.
Leyton was still torqued off that the guy managed to leave the Army with an honorable discharge and was picked up by a police force!
Butch managed to stay a jump ahead of him, using switchbacks constantly and would wait for Leyton to lose his trail, and then he'd take off again. But Leyton was on his back and the bastard wouldn’t get away this time.
They’d passed some isolated cabins in the woods, everything quiet while campers, fishermen, and white water rafters slept until the new day dawned. Leyton would dog him until he caught him, so Butch had to kill him before he could report back in. He hadn’t expected Butch to frame him though, so he could misdirect the blame. Because Leyton couldn't go to prison any more than Butch could, Leyton would have to die. Besides, Butch wouldn't want him living to prove he was the real criminal mastermind behind the weapons’ black-market sales.
Which was probably why the bastard had led him this way in an attempt to ambush him at some point. Leyton was ready to take the cougar down, cat to cat. He had just reached an isolated redwood cabin when he noticed a raised window, saw a rifle poking out, heard the gunshot fired, and leapt out of the way. Almost.
A round struck him in the shoulder, another grazing his ear. Searing pain hit him at once as Leyton ran for cover. Hell and damnation! He’d had hundreds of missions where he had always come out on top. But never in a million years would he have suspected the bastard would be able to arm himself with a sniper rifle and shoot him when they’d been running as cougars in the wilderness.
Despite being hit, he took great satisfaction in the knowledge that Butch had missed anything vital the first two shots he’d fired.
Leyton circled around the cabin, wanting to take him down at all costs. More gunshots rang out. Leyton bolted away from the cabin. Grinding his cougar teeth, he couldn’t risk getting hit again.
Cougar shifters healed faster, but he needed to stop the bleeding. Damn it!
Hidden by the pines, he circled wide.
Another five rounds were fired. Hell. He wasn’t going to be able to get to Butch this way. And he needed to get something to bind his wound.
Angry with himself for getting shot, bu
t having no other options, Leyton headed way around the cabin, hoping he’d reach civilization before long. The cabins he’d seen dotted about had increased in number, and the few roads had too. He figured he should be coming to a town before long. Then what? He was bleeding, wearing his cougar coat, and in a real fine mess.
The sun was low in the sky as he moved through the piney woods, wishing he knew the area. He was headed away from the Rockies, which meant he’d probably run into a road that could lead him to a town. He’d loped for about half an hour, resting, and running again when he heard voices carried on the breeze. The air was warm during the day, the sun beginning to sink in the sky, coloring it awash in purples and pinks. The air began to cool.
This was a better time to run, though he couldn’t risk delaying until nightfall, not with the way he was injured. Then he saw a lake and a sign saying it was Lake Buchanan, kids playing on the shore, tents and campers on one side, cabin rentals on another. Should he risk sneaking into a cabin? Stealing some clothes?
He moved on, scenting the air, surprised he was smelling so many different cougars in the area. He was moving slower now, his shoulder hurting like a sonofabitch, aching and sharp pains riddling his tired body. But he had to keep pushing on. Had to find a store, maybe where he could get first aid supplies and a few things to wear so he could blend in. Which meant breaking in after businesses were closed.
Home developments appeared, large spacious acre to five-acre lots, treed, no fencing, perfect for him to remain unseen. Again, he smelled the scent of cougars, confusing him. They normally stayed out of housing developments.
The closer he got to town, the darker the sky, but the homes had smaller yards, some fenced-in, and he was having to leap over fences, rather than risk running in front of the houses. Then he smelled food, his stomach rumbling. Chicken wings, barbecue, steaks on a grill, he was starving.
He finally reached a small shopping area—grocery store—open until 11 p.m., a number of eating places, a library, bank, police station, that made his heartbeat quicken, and hot damn! A medical clinic, that looked to be closed. A white Ford Explorer was parked out back, but there were no lights on in the building. Which meant someone had to have just left their vehicle there for the time being.
He shifted at the back door and stared at the damn lock. When he was wearing clothes, he always had lock picks with him. He had no way to pick it. He twisted the handle just in case and couldn’t believe his luck when the handle met no resistance. The door opened. Briefly concerned someone had already broken in, he quickly slipped inside, closed the door, and listened to see if anyone was rummaging around. Looking for drugs, probably.
No sounds at all. He moved down the hall, his footfalls silent. When he reached the first room, he peaked in. An exam room. Taking a deep breath to steady his heartbeat, he moved into the room, hoping he could find what he needed, locate a restroom, and turn the light on in there so he could use a mirror to take care of his injury. Even so, there were enough parking lot lights streaming through the blinds of the large window that he could see well enough in the room with his cat’s enhanced night vision.
He stalked toward the first cabinet, tripped over something furry, startling him, and he gasped. He smelled a cat—of the housecat variety—at the same time. The furry tiger yowled, making his heart trip, annoying him. Hell, a tiny tiger? No, a cat that looked like a tiger?
The cat began to wind her body around his legs. Animals loved him, but he didn’t have time for this.
Before he could move around the cat and reach the cabinet door, he heard footsteps headed quickly in the direction of the room. His heart and breathing nearly stopped. The person who broke in was still here? His first thought was that the person was a drug addict, looking for drugs. But why would he be moving around in the dark?
His adrenaline surging, he readied himself to pounce on the thief and take him out.
* * *
As soon as Dr. Kate Parker heard her cat yowl in one of the exam rooms, she was jolted from her catnap. She’d laid down after finishing last minute paperwork, shut off the lights, and was taking a nap before she headed out on her trip into the Rocky Mountain wilderness. She sighed, climbed off the couch in her office, and headed for the door.
Once a year, she took a two-week vacation in the Rockies, no matter the weather. Everyone in Yuma Town had given up telling her she shouldn’t go alone, worrying about her safety, when she had never had any trouble. Once her boyfriend had split, she had wanted to prove that she could do this with or without a friend staying with her. And for three years, she hadn’t had any difficulties.
She’d learned ju jitsu, sparred with the sheriff and his deputies from time to time, and carried a 9 mm. So she was fine.
She sighed again, wishing Queen Sheba would have let her sleep a little longer. She was a toyger, a domestic tabby bred to resemble a tiger with black and orange stripes and the best little mouser. Humans might have felt a cat would be unsanitary in a medical clinic, but since Kate treated cougar shifters, no problem there.
As soon as she reached the exam room, she flipped on the light switch, expecting to see Sheba, but instead, a naked male body slammed into her, taking her to the floor. She oofed as she landed on her back, the air knocked out of her. She’d only had a split second of seeing him, and gasped—the man standing about six feet one—before he tackled her to the linoleum floor. He was a dead-ringer for Stryker, only his eyes were blue-green, and this man didn’t smell anything like the deputy sheriff in town.
He laid on top of her, staring at her for a moment, before she opened her mouth to tell him to get the hell off her. Unfortunately, her gun was not at hand to back up her words.
“Sorry,” he said, clamping his hand over her mouth before she could utter a word. “I take it from the white lab coat you’re wearing, you work here. I thought you had broken in.”
He was a cougar, but no one she’d ever seen before—short, dark brown hair, the start of a scruffy beard, and the most beautiful blue-green eyes she’d ever seen. But right now, she wanted to tranq him and call the sheriff. She tried to shove him off her, but he was too heavy, too muscular. And he knew what she was thinking she swore before she even could react.
His heartbeat was beating as hard as hers. But what concerned her, besides that a naked man had her pinned to the floor of one of her exam rooms and her cat purring next to her face as if she was in on this whole fiasco, Kate smelled the scent of iron—of blood. The cougar was bleeding—all over her!
Which must have been the reason for him breaking into her clinic. Not for drugs. They never had any trouble in Yuma Town. Well, rarely. But no one had ever broken into her clinic.
“You’re hurt,” she mumbled against his hand. “Let me up and I’ll help you.”
“You’ll scream.”
“I took the Hippocratic Oath. Let me take care of you.”
“Don’t cross me.”
Her heart beating triple time, she shook her head. She had to gain his confidence. If she could, maybe she could get him to turn himself in. Or…she’d do it for him. If she could reach her desk in her office, she could get her gun.
He stood and helped her off the floor. She switched her gaze from his eyes---the way he was watching her, waiting for one false move, ready to pounce again—to his tanned and glorious, muscled body. Except for the blood oozing from his shoulder, and some on his ear, he was seriously perfect. A big cat’s version of the statue of David.
“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m apt to bleed to death,” he said, his words laced with a hint of humor.
She felt the blood rush to her face, the hazard of being a redhead, when she was never anything but completely professional when on the job. The man had rattled her completely. “Turn around so I can see where the bullet exited, if it did.” When he turned, she saw where it had. “Good. It did. Lie on the exam table, and I’ll get the supplies I’ll need.”
“I’ll wait for you to get them. Why don’t y
ou give me your cell while we’re at it?”
She jerked her cell out of her lab coat pocket and slammed it into his palm. Damn it. She’d hoped she could use it if she had the chance and call 9-1-1. She pulled a patient gown out of a cabinet and handed it to him. “So why were you shot?”
She set the surgical instruments on the tray, but when she reached for a hypodermic needle, he shook his head.
“No shots.”
“For pain? Antibiotics?”
His smile was humorless.
“Your loss.” So giving him something to make him sleep wasn’t going to work either. She directed him to the exam table. “So, how were you shot?”
“Trying to apprehend a killer.” He sat on the exam table, bunching the gown over his crotch.
She should have given him a sheet because he really couldn’t wear the gown if she was going to work on this shoulder, front to back.
“Why don’t you lie down?”
“I’ll sit.”
She let out her breath in a huff and had to pull a stepping stool over to reach his wound.
She glanced at his chiseled face. “You’re one of the good guys?”
“Yeah, but I can’t talk about the case.”
She snorted, brushing a wayward curl off her cheek, realizing her bun had come half undone when he had taken her to the floor. If anyone barged in on them right now and saw a naked man on her exam room table and her with her hair in such disarray, they’d surly think she’d just had wild and crazy sex with him in here.
“So where are you from?” she asked, trying not to react to his maleness, when she should have been scared or furious, not, damn it, interested. What was wrong with her? No hot guy in her bed for…well, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with a guy.