Protected By The Soldier Tiger (Special Ops Shifters: Dallas Force Book 2)

by Meg Ripley

  Jack spent most of his time in front of a computer, but there was nothing like the rush of zipping down a fast rope from a chopper. “Yeah, I can handle it.” In fact, he looked forward to it.

  The rotors thumped overhead and echoed in his bloodstream as he affixed the rope to an anchor and pulled the door open. He braced himself against the hull, feeling the wind swoop up in his face as the ground swiftly drew closer.

  At Max’s nod, he let go. It was a short jump, nothing like he’d done when he was still in the service, but the rush of air past him send a thrill of exhilaration through his body. He landed perfectly, bending his knees to absorb the impact. Jack let go of the rope and turned to give Max a thumbs up before stalking toward the cabin.

  The place could’ve just as easily been a wilderness retreat or a scene from a horror flick. Bushy weeds grew up around the foundation, and vines twined themselves around the bowed wooden steps leading up to the porch. The rounded logs that made up the siding had seen better days, but the chinking was still in good condition. It could’ve been a house that belonged to anyone, except for the small security cameras that’d been mounted within the recesses of the eves. Without looking for them, Jack was sure there were other perimeter sensors in place as well. It wasn’t as though he’d tried to make his arrival a secret, considering a chopper had just dropped him off, but it was clear to him that whoever was there was intent on keeping the place secure. His inner fox tensed, watchful and wary.

  The porch boards creaked under his weight as he stepped up to the door. Jack knocked twice, paused, and then knocked twice again. The hinges creaked in protest as the door swung open, revealing a tall man with a slim face and brilliant blue eyes. “Jack! I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up.”

  Jack shook his head and stepped inside, the animal that resided within him relaxing considerably. “Hell, I’m not even late, Winston.” He gripped the other man’s hand firmly, pleased to see his old comrade. As many doubts as he’d had about the mission, Winston had been the tipping point.

  “But you’re only five minutes early,” Winston joked. “Come in and we’ll get started. We’ve got a lot to go over.”

  Jack grinned, pleased. “Sounds great.” He surveyed the open floorplan of the cabin. A small hallway jutted off to the left, probably leading to bedrooms and a bathroom, but the kitchen, dining, and living rooms were all one large area. There was little sign of how the previous occupants might’ve lived, since the place was now filled with various castoff metal desks and battered wooden tables, each covered with computers, equipment, and stacks of files.

  This was what he was used to, and Jack instantly felt better about the situation. He stepped past a pile of foreign language dictionaries to follow Winston, ready to get to work. But then the man stepped aside and gestured at a woman seated behind a desk. “Jack, this is Erica. She’s quite talented in the field, and she’ll be working with us.”

  She rose from an office chair well-patched with duct tape. Her long dark hair draped down over her shoulders, a sharp contrast to her lucid green eyes. She watched him carefully as she extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Winston has told me so much.”

  His inner fox went mad as he reached toward her, focusing all his control on his hand so he wouldn’t crush her in his fingers. She was beautiful, no doubt, but why should he be reacting this way? It was as though every impulse he’d ever felt had come rushing to the forefront of his mind, demanding that he act on them. Jack gritted his teeth and split his lips in what he knew was an awkward grin. “I’m sure he has.”

  There was something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. His vulpine half was utterly captivated by her; that much was obvious. But he was also on defense. Something was different about this woman, and he was determined to find out exactly what.

  * * *

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  1

  Ash leaned forward over the bathroom sink, trying to get a better look at the gray hairs that were slowly making themselves known at his temples. The light was dim and yellow, making it difficult, and he gave up with a sweep of his hand. He considered a shave but decided against it, then grabbed a coat and headed downstairs.

  “Where are you off to today?” Old Jim was a well-known resident in this part of Fairbanks, and even though Ash had only been living there for a few months, he was starting to think of the old geezer as one of his good friends. Jim sat in a chair in the corner of the small lobby of the apartment building, which served as nothing more than a place to pick up mail and maybe harass the landlord about a frozen pipe. The elderly man seemed to take incredible delight in seeing the comings and goings of his neighbors, and Ash couldn’t help but indulge him.

  “Just going to look at another property,” he replied as he shrugged into his green Berne work coat. He was never a man who minded the frigid weather, but it seemed a necessity if he was going to spend the rest of his life in a place like Alaska.

  Jim squinted, making his narrow eyes little more than slits. “Ain’t you already done that?”

  Ash laughed. “Yes, and more times than I’d like to admit. Probably more times than my real estate agent would like to admit, too.”

  “Might as well just settle down right here in Fairbanks. We’ve got it all, you know. No need to go anywhere else.” He made a grand gesture with a wrinkled hand to indicate the entire city, as though it was Jim’s to offer. “Many a man has made himself rich here, you know.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Ash swiped a hand over his face to hide his amused smile. Jim claimed to be an ancestor of E.T. Barnette, who founded Fairbanks in 1901. Perhaps because of the DNA he felt he shared with such an important man, Jim took it upon his shoulders to educate everyone who happened to come within speaking distance. And he usually didn’t stop at just one rendition. Ash had heard the stories about a hundred times already, and his friendliness and patience could only go so far. “I think I need something a little further outside the city, though. I’m heading out to look at a big ranch today.”

  Jim nodded slowly, his gray mustache twitching as he muddled over his next words. “You know, I had a ranch once.”

  Oh, no, Ash thought. Here he goes again. If he would’ve allowed him to keep rambling, he’d be late. “I’ll have to catch up with you about that later, Jim. I don’t want to be late, and you know how it is traveling around here.” Ash waved goodbye as he trotted out the door to his truck.

  An hour later, he was standing at the end of a driveway looking at an impressive log cabin. The mountains in the distance gave a stark but gorgeous contrast to the flat land of the parcel, where the ground was brilliant green with the beginnings of a crop. Ash wished he knew enough to recognize what it was, but at the moment, it simply looked like a verdant carpet that stretched off into the distance toward a massive metal building.

  “It’s currently being operated as a very successful cattle ranch,” explained Mr. Larson, pushing back his sport coat to tuck his thumbs into the front pocket of his jeans. He was dressed like many of the professionals Ash had met during his time in Alaska, who wore button-down shirts, ties, and sport coats over their jeans and boots. “I think it’s just what you’re looking for. Natural water source, flat land, highway access—and you know how important that can be in this area if you don’t own your own plane. Note the equipment shed right over there. It comes complete with everything you need since the owners are retiring and moving to the city. All your tractors and mowers and everything else!”

  Ash felt a deep wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. The place was beautiful; there was no doubt about
it. It felt more right than the other properties he’d looked at before, but it was still missing something. “Yeah… I don’t know.”

  “Of course you don’t!” Mr. Larson enthused, throwing his hands up in the air. “We’ve hardly even looked at the place. C’mon.” He led the way up to the house, where he fiddled with a lock box for a moment until he could get the door open. “This place is just magnificent. I know when you think of a ranch, you’re picturing some bare-bones, barely livable tin shack. But clearly, the Alaskan wilderness has far more to offer than that! Check out this beautiful double-sided fireplace that serves both the living room and the kitchen with this open floor plan.”

  “Yes, it’s very nice.” Ash turned toward a large window to check out the view, but also to roll his eyes. Mr. Larson had been recommended as one of the best realtors in the area, but he reminded Ash of a sleazy car salesman. “I’m not sure I need a home this big, though. It’s just me.”

  “You never know what your future might hold. A beautiful bride, perhaps? One who would surely appreciate the granite countertops and radiant heating in the floors.” He combed his thick mustache with his fingers and waggled his eyebrows.

  “Mm. Doubt it.” Ash left the realtor in the living room and wandered through the home. He didn’t really need to know that it had a separate office area and several bedrooms. The attached storage area for firewood was useful, and it was convenient that most of the furniture and appliances came with the place, but it was too big for just one man.

  In all his life, he’d never felt that incessant urge that came from meeting one’s mate. While he was still with Delta Force, it didn’t matter much. He couldn’t exactly worry about settling down while he was busy running down terrorists and rescuing hostages. It was a hard and rough life, one that he enjoyed for the camaraderie and the excitement. There was something special about knowing he was one of the few men the country trusted with those missions, even if they weren’t ones that civilians usually heard about on the evening news.

  Over twenty years of that life had been enough, though, and Ash knew it was time to slow down. He hadn’t anticipated the first few months of his retirement serving as such a poignant reminder of just how alone he was. There was no woman in his life, and certainly no children. He didn’t even know any other shifters nearby, and even in the Alaskan wilderness, Ash was forced to keep the secret of who he truly was.

  “Well?” Mr. Larson urged as Ash returned to the living room. “Isn’t it great? The structure of this home is remarkable and it’s very well insulated.”

  “Mmhm.” Ash could appreciate those kinds of facts, and he could even appreciate the vaulted ceiling that really showed off the stone chimney. It was the best place he’d seen yet and the one closest to what he envisioned for his future. Something, though, still wasn’t right.

  “Okay, you told me you wanted a ranch. So maybe you’re not interested in the house, but you’ll be spending all your time outdoors anyway, right? Let’s go check out the equipment shed. Talk about big boy toys! Have you done any ranching before?” The realtor stepped out the back door and took long, confident strides toward the metal barn.

  Ash pursed his lips as he fell into step beside the man. “Can’t say that I have. I’ll have a lot to learn.”

  “Good for you, Mr. Cunningham! We need more people like you out here, men who aren’t afraid to take their chances working the land. In this day and age, everyone wants to be involved in technology and the internet. But we need people behind the scenes getting things done.” He pumped his fist in the air as he slid the door to the equipment shed aside with a loud creak.

  The place was impressive, with a concrete floor, full electrical, and all the tractors and equipment a man could possibly need to run a ranch. But Ash felt the reality of what he was wanting to do as he perused the big machines. Sure, even though Mr. Larson had been a little hokey about it, there was something exciting and almost noble about ranch life. But to do it all by himself? To run a place this big when he didn’t really know what he was doing? That was asking a lot of himself, but he wasn’t a man to turn down a challenge.

  “I see that look on your face,” Mr. Larson said, leaning against a steel beam. “You’re wondering how you’re going to do this.”

  Ash immediately hardened his features.

  “It’s all right, any man would be out of his mind if he thought he could just dive in and do this. You’ve got a lot at stake here, and not just money. Come on.” He waved Ash to come along with him as he left the back of the shed and led the way up over a small hill. “You’ve got all their lives in your hands, too,” he said as he pointed toward a large cattle barn. The animals milled about within the sturdy fencing, twitching their ears at the sound of the men’s voices.

  So this was where they kept them all, far back from the road. Ash inhaled the scent and felt his shoulders relax a little. Maybe this was what had been missing when he’d looked at the front of the property where the house was located. It felt like a luxury cabin at a resort from that angle, but this was what he’d come here for.

  “Now, here’s the most important thing you need to know,” the realtor said as he headed down toward the fence, bringing Ash’s attention back to him. “The owners are retiring, like I said. They want the simple life in the city, where someone else comes and digs them out of their driveway in the winter and they only have to walk around the corner to get their groceries. But they really care about this place, and they want it to go into the right hands. They’re willing to stick around and teach you anything you need to know, from operating the tractors so you can grow your own hay, to fixing fencing and birthing calves.”

  Ash raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And how much extra is that going to cost me?”

  “Just a little bit of time, really,” Mr. Larson replied, and for once, he didn’t sound like he was trying to get a job as a travel blogger. “This is really important to them. They’ve spent their entire lives creating this place and they don’t want to see it all go to waste.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Ash said with a nod.

  The realtor heaved a deep sigh. “Look, Mr. Cunningham, I’ve got to be honest with you. This ranch hasn’t been on the market all that long, but I don’t think it’s going to stay on the market long, either. Now, I know what you’re thinking.” He held up a hand to stop Ash from arguing with him. “Realtors say that all the time, and you’re probably right. But this truly is a great place, and if you ask me, it’s a bargain. I’ve shown you big farms with little houses and little farms with big houses. I’ve shown you places close to town and far from town, places near the mountains and places near the water. At every single one of them, you just sort of frown and say you’ll think about it. I understand you want something perfect, but I’m starting to wonder if you’re going to find it.” His amber eyes challenged his client.

  He could argue with the man and explain that even as great of a place this was, there was still something that didn’t quite fit. But Ash didn’t feel the need to waste his energy making a stranger understand his reasoning. He just gave a small shrug. “Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

  As he headed back to his rental, Ash chuckled to himself. Mr. Larson might not see a difference between now and all the other times he’d said those words, but this time, it wasn’t just his way of being polite. He really was going to think about it.

  “Well?” Old Jim demanded as soon as Ash walked back into the building.

  “It’s a nice place,” Ash admitted with a smile. “I just might buy it.”

  The old man bobbed his head in approval. “Big place?”

  “A few hundred acres,” he admitted, his lips splitting in a grin he didn’t expect. “It’s a great ranch. It’s got everything I could ever want and more. I think I might buy it.”

  “When you need yourself a ranch hand, you give me a holler. I need something to do all day besides just sitting here on my rump.”

  Ash smiled warmly. “I’ll kee
p that in mind, Jim.” He headed up the stairs to his apartment, feeling good about his decision. Sure, it was a big step, but that was what he’d come there for in the first place. He was ready to get away from the wandering life of a serviceman and settle down. The ranch seemed like a world completely of its own, far enough away from everyone else that he could pretend he was the last man on Earth. He hadn’t been sure at first, but now he knew it was the right choice.

  As he drew his cell from his pocket and prepared to dial Mr. Larson—and to hear the elated and verbose response from the man—it rang. The caller ID flashed ‘Restricted’ on the screen and Ash frowned at it. No one should’ve had his number, since he was always careful who he’d given it to. He glared at it another second before answering it harshly. “Yeah?”

  “Is this the great Ash Cunningham I’m speaking to?”

  Instinctively, Ash began scanning his apartment for the slightest thing out of place. He didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the line. Had someone been watching him? There were a number of terrorist groups that would’ve liked to see his head on a pike. “Depends on who’s asking.”

  The man laughed casually. His voice was gravelly and slow, like he had all the time in the world. “The Special Ops Shifter Force. My name’s Flint Myers.”

  “All right.” He wasn’t going to allow this strange caller to lead him into offering any information, not even his own name. “What do you want?”