Bear with Me (Bear Mountain Patrol Series Book 1)

by Addae, Sydney

  When she reached the part of the trail where she could see her building through the large trees, her heart sang. Finally she’d be rid of the bugs. Wiping away sweat and swatting the pesky things, she picked up her pace as she left the track and entered the park, headed for home.

  “Yes, you got this.” Her heartbeat raced and her chest burned as she wished she was in bed already. A tall, hunky guy passed her and looked back.

  Pushing her glasses up her nose, she glanced over her shoulder at his tight cheeks and smiled. “One day,” she murmured. “One day I’ll find him.” The thought ran on a loop as she allowed herself to dream. The epitome of tall, dark, handsome with a dash of badass, he would cherish and love her. Without prompting, his face rose blinding her to the park and her destination as she walked toward home on autopilot.

  For years, she saw him on the movie set in her mind in various roles. Even when someone else shared her bed, like a ghost his presence lingered near. Puzzled, Camilla balled her fist, quickened her pace and tried to outrun the irritating, persistent, presence of her… what? High school crush? Hell she was 23 when she met him and that had been the only time. Why did Tag’s memory linger through the years? If anyone could answer that one, she’d give them $1000 bucks so she could move on with her life.

  Ryan, her cousin, had stopped by the house to pick up something he’d left from a previous visit. Strange but she remembered focusing on his black half boots on Mama’s white tile floors. To this day Camilla wondered if Mama hadn’t enforced her no shoes inside the house rule because Ryan had brought a guest. Wearing a pair of old, thick, comfortable glasses, her hair up in a ponytail and a pair of shorts and tank top, Camilla had been listening to Ryan’s advice on dating in college. Most of it didn’t apply to her anyway, but he liked calling her beautiful and she enjoyed hearing it. Ryan patted her back and pointed.

  “Tag, meet my cousin, Camilla.” He pushed her shoulders lightly, she stepped back and stumbled. Her glasses slid down her nose. A peculiar fragrance of earth, oranges and something else she couldn’t define filled the air, circling around her head. Wanting more, she lifted her chin so her nose pointed upward.

  A hundred camera flashes clicked in her mind, bright and blinding. Her heart clutched, and then raced. Her throat tightened, as one thought grabbed hold of her. Had her retina finally detached after all this time? God, please, no. Head bowed, she blinked to clear her vision as Ryan turned her to the right.

  “Hello, Camilla.” Tag’s voice, deep, dark and sinfully decadent brushed against her.

  The clicks in her mind stopped as if they’d found a focus point. Goose bumps raced up and down her arms, chest and belly from the timbre of his voice. Vision cleared, she saw better than she had in years. The man wasn’t pretty, tall, sharp nose, square jaw and short brown hair. He looked like a soldier straight from the movies, tall, muscular, but his eyes… a piercing brown that offered warmth, safety and a held a smidgeon of pain.

  Skin prickling, she couldn’t stop moving forward if she tried. She had no idea why she took his hand, it hadn’t been outstretched, but the need to touch, hell to climb the tall man like a tree and rub all over him, throbbed like a base drum, through her entire body.

  Unable to speak, she ran her thumb over his knuckles, and then turned his large hand over and stroked his palm. With each stroke, her heart beat increased. Thoughts, clear one second scattered the next. Heat chased cold as her body temperature flipped repeatedly as his presence threw it into flux. His intoxicating scent curled tighter around her head. She weaved to the side from its potency.

  “Camilla?”

  Ryan’s voice echoed in her mind as she tried to break the paralysis gripping her. Speak. Move. Run. Her body refused to obey any of those commands.

  “That’s a lovely name,” Tag said inching his hand from hers.

  Her heart slammed in her chest at the thought of separating from this stranger.

  “Camilla?” her mama said from behind her. The questioning demand in mama’s voice edged between Camilla’s burning need to touch this man and to respond to her mother.

  “Thank you, its nice meeting you… um, Tag.” She dropped his hand and wrapped her arms around her waist to keep from wrapping them around him. She met her mom’s curious gaze and tried to smile. Face aflame she glanced at Ryan, ignored the question in his gaze and stepped toward the exit.

  “Um… nice meeting you. I need to um… take care of something. Excuse me.” She walked briskly out the room, out the house and out of view of Tag. The man was dangerous and she still had no idea why.

  Straightening, she banished the humiliating memory of their meeting to the dark corner of her mind. Ryan had been concerned and on more than one occasion made sure she understood Tag was not the one for her. Most of the time she agreed, but at other times…she wondered as she headed home.

  “Arrgh,” she said stopping. Something stung her on the neck. “Damn it,” she yelled slapping her neck, it hurt then burned. A quick look at her palm showed no evidence that she killed the sucker. Cursing, she continued toward home. A few seconds later, she reached the area with the water fountain, away from the track and almost out of the park. Sunlight glinted off the faucet, the handle on the side faded to a dull, fuzzy shine. Blinking fast, she bent over and took several shallow breaths to ease the fire percolating in her chest.

  Hand trembling, she tried to retrieve her phone from her pocket. Several attempts later, she held it steady enough to call Tyra. A fine tremor ran the distance of her spinal cord. Crying out, she searched for a place to sit, the bench near the faucet was too far. She held her shaking hand in front of her then stuffed it in her pocket. “Please wake up Tyra, please, please,” she prayed. The early morning pizza churned in her belly, then cramped causing her to bend forward with her arm wrapped around her waist.

  The call went to voicemail. “I’m feeling funny, something bit me. Can you come to the park?” Flashes of heat raced across her chest. A curious tingling started in her fingertips and rose up her arms, leaving them numb, inert. A fuzzy cloud covered the buildings, everyone in the park blurred, she could barely see across the street now.

  “Not now, not now,” she murmured wishing her distorted vision would wait until she made it home. The sound of her breath amplified to the point she didn’t hear much else. “My head, I can’t…” Her tongue grew lazy and refused to move, speech became impossible.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. The sun hid behind the clouds abandoning her to the dark regions of her mind. Had everything conspired against her?

  “You okay?” the older woman she had spoken to earlier asked from nearby while jogging in place.

  Camilla turned in the direction of the voice, held up her phone and shook her head instinctively.

  “Okay, you’re calling someone.” The woman nodded and ran across the street.

  “Wait, I need help,” Camilla cried but the words stuck in her mind.

  “Camilla?” A tall, handsome man strode through the fog but she was certain she had never seen him before. He stood next to her and wrapped his arm around her. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll help you,” he said in a smooth voice. She glanced at the spiraling tattoo on his forearm and tried to trace it but her hand wouldn’t cooperate.

  “Who are you? You don’t smell right.” The words formed in her gut but her mouth refused to utter them. Alarm bells rang in her mind, muted, they sounded like a tinkle, an annoying buzz easily ignored.

  “Come with me,” he insisted holding her by the waist then moving in the opposite direction away from her home.

  Camilla tried to stop him. In her mind she fought him every step of the way but her body disobeyed and moved along with this fraudulent rescuer. At the edge of the park she stumbled to the ground. Her glasses flew off and she couldn’t see. Once down, her legs refused to move and he picked her up.

  “Tag! Help me,” her mind screamed freely calling his name for the first time in over three years. Now that his name raced ar
ound her mind she allowed it free rein. “Help me, Tag, please, help.”

  Her eyes closed and her world went dark.

  Chapter 4

  The jingle from Tag’s cell phone blared as he strode into the kitchen. The harsh midday sun shot through the windows and painted sharp rectangles on the tiled floor. Remnants of coffee, bacon and maple syrup odors lingered from breakfast. Antsy, Grizzle wouldn’t settle down earlier which meant extra laps in the pool before heading out to the range.

  He laid his rifle on the solid mahogany table then placed his semi-automatic pistol next to it for cleaning. Taking a jug of water from the refrigerator he upended it. The cool liquid eased his dry throat and restored fluids he’d lost while target practicing on the north end of his property.

  Months had passed since he spent time on the range and if Jackson watched him, he wanted the man to see he hadn’t lost his touch. The “No Trespassing” signs posted on the fences and trees surrounding his property meant exactly what they said and he’d be happy to back them up.

  The irritating jingle stopped. Rather than check to see who called he grabbed the cleaning kit for his weapons and sat down to that enjoyable task. After locking them away, he returned to the kitchen to find something more substantial than the honeycomb he’d snacked on outside where he kept his bees.

  Pleased the bees were doing much better, he planned to send his mom a jar with the comb and some larvae from his private stash as a peace offering. The last time they talked she hadn’t been happy with him. She wouldn’t be happy until he gave up his guns, stopped hunting, returned to the family ranch in Montana and settled down.

  Since he had no intention of doing any of those things but loved his mother, a jar of pure honey would make a good peace offering. At least he hoped. Lately, her hints about a visit to his ranch with his two sisters for a family get-together to discuss his inheritance, escalated.

  Invariably his thoughts traveled to his father. Until two and a half years ago, his dad had worked for BMP as a special regulations officer. Supposedly killed in the mountains by a bear who also killed a human camper, Tag never believed the agency’s account and did a separate investigation, discovering a huge cover-up.

  Politics and bullshit cost his dad his life.

  Since they had no idea what Tag had done with the information he’d uncovered, the Montana BMP brass had him taken into a room with no windows and given an ultimatum. Either forget the circumstances of his father’s death or watch his mother and sisters suffer. As the faceless man’s voice droned through the speaker telling of places, friends and locations where his mom frequented, Tag knew they could snatch his mother at any time.

  Rage over his inability to protect the women in his life ripped his heart apart. Angry curses erupted from his mouth as he jumped up, shifted and released Grizzle. In that tiny room he clawed and pounded the beige-colored concrete block walls and punched the ceiling that wouldn’t break. When his rage over the circumstances simmered to a manageable heat, Tag agreed to their demands. And in that moment he locked away the fact that his father had worked with the DEA to bring down a South American drug dealer named Sanchez and had been killed during a drug sale gone bad. Next, those sad fucks banned him from Montana for three years. Six months to go then he could stop making lame excuses and go home to visit.

  Guilt ate at him constantly, kept him roaming the mountains in search for redemption. Word reached him those assholes, from his father’s unit, wanted him terminated but Jackson had taken a special interest and personally watched out for him.

  Tag shook off the morbid thoughts as his stomach growled. He pulled out a fresh piece of salmon he bought that morning, seasoned it then sliced it in long strips. He could eat it raw or cooked. The rising temperatures outside swung his decision against turning on the stove. A bowl of nuts and berries were in the refrigerator, he placed it on the table next to his plate and grabbed a large glass of water.

  He continued to ignore the jingle of his cell as it rang periodically throughout his meal. After cleaning the kitchen he headed for the shower. The phone rang again. Wondering who called so many times, he looked at the caller ID.

  “Ryan Lee?” he murmured. It had been two years since he had talked to his friend. “Hello?”

  “Dragon?”

  “Tag.” He didn’t want Ryan using his field name, even if it was just the two of them talking. Over the years he’d shed blood in 30 countries leaving widows in his wake. Dragon wasn’t dead, just inactive. Something told him that might change soon.

  A long sigh came through the line. “Man, you are hard to track down. How are you?”

  “Good.” He hesitated. “You?”

  “Not good. My cousin, Camilla, she’s missing.”

  Tag frowned in concentration before he matched a face with a name. “Long wavy reddish brown hair?” Thin, tall, thick glasses, she’d rubbed his hand while looking at him as if he dripped honey from its comb. He hadn’t wanted to offend her mom or Ryan and had remained still while she rubbed him. But when she remained silent, he backed away in spite of how much Grizzle enjoyed her touch.

  “Yeah, surprised you remember since you only met her once a few years ago.” Ryan cleared his throat. “Look I know you don’t work on consults anymore but I could use your expertise to find her. She’s been gone for 12 hours and I don’t want the trail to grow cold.”

  A picture of a tall, skinny, woman re-assembled in Tag’s mind like pieces of a puzzle. He and Ryan had been on their way to handle a job on a small South American island. They stopped at Ryan’s Aunt Margie’s house to pick up a bag Ryan needed. Camilla had been home from college or something. She smelled good and that trumped looks in his book. Slimmer than he preferred but he could see her leaving town with a human guy and not telling anyone. At any rate, he no longer rescued damsels in distress, too much drama.

  “I’m in the middle of harvesting,” Tag said, surprising himself. If the silence on the line were any indication, he surprised Ryan as well.

  “Harvesting?” Ryan sounded skeptical.

  “Yeah, I have a small spread, a one-man operation, keeps me busy.” Why did he feel as if he had to explain? He didn’t.

  “Is there any way you can get someone to work in your place? I really need your help on this.”

  “I don’t do that kind of work anymore,” Tag growled, infusing displeasure in his voice to cover his willingness to hunt for the sake of hunting. Itching to fight, he closed his eyes and sat heavily in the chair, it creaked beneath his weight. Maybe Louie was right to be concerned.

  “I know, believe me if I thought for one second I could find her on my own, or with anyone else, I would. But I can’t. The trail’s… well, it’s cold. Law enforcement isn’t doing anything other than assigning a case number to the complaint. They say we should wait, my gut says if we wait, it’ll be too long,” Ryan said.

  “What do you think happened?” The lick of excitement intensified as the thrill of the hunt thrummed in his chest. He both hated and loved it.

  “She was across the street at the park and someone snatched her. Can you believe that shit, right in front of her house?” Ryan said His tone matter-of-fact with an undercurrent of pain. Tag hurt for his friend. Camilla’s father and Ryan’s mom were siblings. The short time he knew Ryan, his aunt and cousin had been the only people he ever mentioned. Unlike Tag, Ryan didn’t have a large family of support.

  “What do you have?” He didn’t mean to sound gruff but feeling backed into a corner, even when he wanted to cooperate, had a tendency to do that to him.

  “Not a whole lot. She went for a walk in the park across the street from her place, started feeling sick, called her roommate then disappeared.” Ryan hesitated then spoke again in a low voice. “Camilla and her mom, they’re the only real family I have, the rest, well they don’t matter. I haven’t told my aunt yet, she’ll fall apart. Please, man…she’s like my sister, I gotta find her.”

  The last time a female asked for help, he g
ot played and wound up in the hospital for an overnight stay. The medication did nothing for his broken heart. Ryan wasn’t Amber and Tag’s heart wasn’t involved so finding Camilla shouldn’t be a problem on that score. The real test would be his ability to work again as a team with Grizzle.

  Tag tamped down the surge of anticipation coursing through him. Older, hopefully wiser, this time he would remain in control. He had been practicing breathing exercises and meditation. Unfortunately, he never used either during real action but he would succeed. The only alternative would be to destroy his beast, which he couldn’t survive.

  “Where do I meet you?” Tag asked, resigned to the hunt and to save the girl if she could be saved. He hoped for Ryan’s sake she still lived.

  “West of Boulder, south of you.”

  Tag was surprised. “Give me the address and I’ll be there in an hour. You call anybody else?”

  Ryan rattled off the address. “Not yet but I might call in Patch if we need more gun power.”

  Tag rolled the name around on his tongue. An image of a tall, muscular white male rose. A black bear who lived in the upper mountains. Tag had a run-in once over Patch’s treatment of an older bear. The man had a low moral compass in Tag’s opinion but he could shoot a tick off a dog at 100 yards.

  “The name is familiar,” Tag said in a non-committal tone. This wasn’t his team and Ryan would be responsible for Patch. “What did the cops say?”

  “The usual - she may be visiting a friend or ran off with a lover, they want to wait 48 hours before they do anything. The fact she was sick then disappeared doesn’t seem to make a difference… assholes.”

  “Sick? I thought she was at the park?”

  “She was and got sick,” Ryan said. “I’ll tell you all of it when you get here.”

  “Solid, I’ll see you in a bit.” After he disconnected he went into his bedroom and stared at the huge, black metal gun safe at the rear of his walk-in closet.

  As a gun-for-hire, he went in, did the job and left with no footprints. Being around humans made it harder to free Grizzle and he rarely did hand-to-hand combat. Instead he relied heavily on his sensory skills to locate prey and assist in reaching the final objective. His sense of smell was so accurate he could pinpoint and lock on anything without seeing or hearing it. Through the years, his beast had grown accustomed to the adrenaline rush accompanying a good chase.