Bearing It All

by Vonnie Davis

  “How did I put you down? All I meant was your flattery was a little over the top. Something I’m not used to.”

  He stood and pivoted toward her, his hands fisted and his face red. “Well, get fookin’ used to it!” He stomped toward the hooks by the door and reached for his coat and hat. “I’m going for a walk to cool down.” A blast of cold air blew in when he opened the door.

  “Yeah, well, take your PMS and drop it in the snow out there somewhere. I’ve never met a moodier man and I refuse to measure every word before I speak it.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her, annoyance causing his eyes to squint. “What the feckin’ hell is PMS, I’d like to ken?”

  “Petty Male Shit,” she yelled.

  The door slammed and snow slid off the roof.

  Since Ronan had opened his shield during his argument with Anisa, he told Brother Bear he could shift and run for a few hours. While the bear ran through the Highlands, Ronan could use the time to think for he had a strong inkling he’d just made an arse of himself—and that certainly didna sit well.

  I dinna want to shift. I’m resting fer tomorrow’s snow battle with Anisa. I’m pissed at ye, so I am. Ye hurt her feelings.

  “I’ve had enough of yer interference. I’d like to romance her in me own way.”

  Bear rocked against Ronan’s chest, causing him to stumble off the steps. Ye couldna romance a frog. Ye canna run hot and cold with a woman. She willna take it.

  Ronan regained his balance and clumped in frustration past his pickup and up the hill through the snow. “As if ye’re the expert on romance, ye virgin-arsed bear.”

  He’d done his fair share of flirting. Okay, so he’d stumbled his way through the romance game because he’d never given a tinker’s damn before. Not like he did now. Probably because with her, it mattered. She counted. She held his heart in her hands and he wasna so sure he liked it.

  Ronan stomped through the woods, the cold air burning his chest. A bead of sweat trickled down the middle of his back. He unzipped his jacket, and circled back toward the cabin. Why had he allowed her to get under his skin? His behavior was childish and petulant; he was not the kind of man who deserved a woman’s love and respect.

  Watching him shift from man to beast couldna been easy fer her, nor seeing him shift back again. He remembered her many varied expressions. Aye, the look on her face when Brother Bear sat her on his lap. Even her lips had turned pale. Bloody hell, it had scared her. She didna ken what to think. He kicked at the snow. Damn his ignorant arse, he hadna given her enough time to adjust before he was ready to go on with life as if nothing new and foreign had happened in front of her.

  An apology was owed her. Aye, and some time to accept him for all that he was.

  After all, he’d been plenty nervous himself, which was why he’d been wound so tight, so eager to take offense. He’d never revealed his dual persona to anyone and he’d been damned scared. Christ, he’d been trembling inside and out. He glanced toward home. His Beauty stood on the porch, her arms hanging at her sides. And damn if it didna look as if she were sobbing. Bloody hell. He had hurt her.

  He ran for the cottage.

  She wiped her cheeks and stepped to the edge of the porch before jumping off the steps into his arms. He wrapped his jacket around her so he could cloak her in warmth, both his and the coat’s. She slipped her arms under his and snuggled against him. “I’m not crying.”

  Aye, her pride was important to her, too. “I know, luv.” He tightened his arms around her waist. “I’m sorry for how I acted. I’ve never cared fer anyone as much as I do ye. It makes me bloody nervous, so it does. Any rebuke on yer part cuts me to the core. This was all me fault. Not yers. Mine.” He covered her lips with his and tried his best to pour all his emotions into the kiss.

  She was breathless when she pulled back. “There’s one thing I know, Ronan. I want you. If our relationship only lasts two days or two months, I’ll take it and enjoy every second of our time together. But you must understand how guilty and fearful I am that I’ve put you in a dangerous situation.”

  He carried her up the steps. “Dinna worry. We’ve done all we can to keep ourselves safe. The rest is out of our hands.” He opened the door for her. After he took off his coat and hat, he wrapped his arms around her again. “ ’Tis sorry I am fer how I acted earlier.” He leaned so he could press his forehead against hers. “If I dinna soon calm down and start treating ye like ye deserve all the time, I’m going to lose any chance I have with ye. And that would break me heart fer sure. Bloody hell, I’m wound so tight for the needing of ye, the wanting of ye. Not just fer our time here, but forever.”

  “I know exactly how you feel.” Crossing her arms, she reached for the hem of her sweatshirt and drew it off along with her torn pajama top. She shimmied out of her pajama bottoms before he could unglue the tongue from the roof of his mouth. She bent to remove her socks and stood before him wearing nothing but the purple thong he’d admired earlier.

  His gaze remained fused on her voluptuous figure and his nostrils flared as he inhaled her strawberry fragrance and the seductive odors of her arousal.

  “Frenchy, the condoms.”

  “If we’re staying together, you better get them. Even with a tiny hole, they’re better than nothing.”

  Ronan yawned as he waited for the coffee to drip through the coffeemaker. He glanced out the window, surprised that some of the blue of the sky was showing this morning. Excitement rumbled through his system—Brother Bear wanted to talk. He opened the shield as he poured himself a cup of hot brew. It didna take long for his other half to start his excited rambling.

  Is she up? I’m ready to shift and go outside. I dreamed all night about our snowball battle. Ohhh, are those the honey buns yer mum made fer us? He smacked his lips in anticipation.

  After breakfast, Anisa bundled in warm clothes and Ronan shifted into Magnus for their snowball fight. She opened the door and Magnus walked outside and down the steps.

  “Let’s go make our snowballs first. Okay, Magnus?”

  He gave a gleeful growl and ran toward the wall of snow Ronan had shoveled yesterday. The snow had stopped; so had the severe cold winds. She’d bet the temperatures had risen a good ten degrees. For this area, it was a beautiful day to be outside. Before long, snowballs were flying. Magnus was so excited, his roars echoed off the trees. Anisa couldn’t stop laughing; in many ways, he was like a kid—playful, adorable, and full of yearning for approval.

  They’d been throwing snowballs for nearly an hour when, for some reason, he stopped and tilted his head. He sprinted for her, his eyes wide with fear. He scooped her into his front legs and bolted on two hind legs toward the house.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” In the distance, the drone of helicopters reached her ears. AH-1’s, if she had to guess. Two of them. Mon Dieu, they were coming for her. What would they do to Magnus and Ronan? Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to work out a plan of distract and destroy.

  Magnus ran into the bedroom alcove, tossed her on the bed, and pulled a dictionary from the bookshelves. He pressed something behind the book and the section of shelves next to it slid open. Well, isn’t this interesting? Who would have suspected this? Did Ronan engineer these secret shelves? How ingenious.

  Shoving the book back into position, Magnus gathered her off the bed, and hurried down the steps to a basement. As he pulled a chain to turn on a small overhead light, she saw it was a slight clean space with a wide chair and a stand. There were shelves of jarred fruits and meats against the interior wall. Magnus pulled what looked to be a medieval broadaxe from the top shelf. He spun to her and muttered something, shaking his paw at her.

  “Wait!” She hugged him. “I love you.” How stupid of her to forget the danger that would always follow her, the peril she could put Ronan and his bear in the middle of—all because of her. “Don’t you dare get hurt, Magnus. I need you.”

  His empty paw cupped her head and his eyes turned soft
. The sing-song type of murmur he gave her was gentle with affection. He bolted up the steps and closed the fake wall of shelves. His thundering paws shook the floor overhead as he ran outside.

  She sat on the chair, winding and unwinding her scarf from her hand. Would Magnus get hurt? That would mean Ronan would be hurt as well. And just what the hell was she doing hiding in a basement like some weak woman who couldn’t take care of herself and a squad of soldiers? After all the training she’d had in combat and survival, she’d been relegated to the damn basement?

  Oh, no! Oh, hell no!

  Chapter 12

  She charged up the steps and pulled on a rope, the only thing she could detect that would open the sliding wall of bookshelves. From her backpack next to the bed, she removed her pistol and an extra clip of ammo, placing them in the back of her jeans. She fingered through one of the bag’s external pockets until she found her two knives and their scabbards that she quickly strapped around her ankles.

  In case she got out of this mess alive, she removed the plastic-wrapped data sticks and slipped the bag into the front pocket of her jeans. To help with the glare of the snow, she unzipped the tiny pocket where she kept her aviator sunglasses and jammed them in place. On a final note, she shoved her packet of foil-wrapped cash into the other front pocket of her jeans.

  Just as she was ready to charge outside, the one-sided firefight began. Magnus roared with enough strength to rattle the windows. Her heart struck her chest like a jackhammer. He’d have no weapons to fight with. What damage could a broadaxe possibly do to a helicopter? Why hadn’t Ronan shifted?

  Her gaze landed on Ronan’s gun case. She trailed her fingertips along the top and found the key. Men are just too predictable. She unlocked the door and a .300 Ultra Mag with a high-powered scope caught her eye. “Come to Mama! We’ve got a helicopter to shoot down.” She slung the strap over her shoulder and helped herself to a couple of loaded clips.

  On a pivot, she charged for the window, flipped the lock, and raised the glass. She’d need the element of surprise on her side. Besides, if Magnus saw her, he would carry her back inside as if she were some helpless female. She draped one leg over the windowsill and swiveled her other through before she jumped and rolled in the snow. Keeping close to the cabin, under the roof’s overhang where the snow wasn’t as deep, she rushed for the front.

  Her suspicions were right—two helicopters. The one leaning closest to Magnus was firing at him, the wind draft from its blades causing the snow to spin in a white whirlpool. She had to protect her man. Holding the scope to her eye, the pilot came into view. She slid her glasses onto the top of her head and, on a slow exhale, squeezed the trigger. Blood splattered on the windshield. She aimed and took out the other passenger. The bird rotated as it gyrated toward earth, landing on Ronan’s truck. Both vehicles exploded.

  Large airborne shards of metal embedded themselves into tree trunks and sliced one of the porch posts. The heat from the fire melted the surrounding snow. Magnus rolled away from the blaze. The acrid smell of smoke burned Anisa’s nose.

  Magnus stood and stumbled in obvious shock in her direction, blood covering his head. She could almost imagine Ronan going spastic inside the bear, bitching about his destroyed truck. Magnus wiped blood from his eyes with his front leg. Oh, dear God. If Magnus was hurt, so was Ronan. She couldn’t allow her emotions to come into play. Later, yes, but not yet. She had a mission to accomplish.

  The remaining helicopter circled the area, searching for her. The thick white sweater and hat she wore would provide some camouflage, but not her jeans. Or the black .300 Ultra Mag.

  In a zigzag pattern, she bolted down the path Ronan had shoveled yesterday toward the small shack. She propped against the side of the building—just long enough for the men in the remaining helicopter to sight her. If they focused on her, Magnus would retain a measure of safety. In an instant, she dropped and rolled. Bullets peppered the snow, thrashing it around like a milkshake in a blender.

  Her gigantic rush of adrenaline kept her somewhat calm. She’d trained for situations like this, over and over. For months and weeks, daylight and night, rain and fog. Exercise after exercise. Every action and reaction had been drilled into her.

  Crouching, she sprinted to the back of the small shed, between close-growing trees as a bullet zinged past her head. The trunk of the tree next to her split, the cracking jolting her ears. On a rapid roll, she cleared the old oak before it hit the ground.

  She maneuvered on her elbows and toes through a cluster of pines. The helicopter circled overhead and fired a missile that exploded the supply building. The force of the blast shook the ground. Shattered wood from the structure dislodged the snow off the pines, further camouflaging her. Pieces of log and slivers of wood landed on her head. Pain and a warm numbness followed.

  The helicopter landed. For a moment, she lay on her stomach and assessed the situation. With the high-powered scope to her eye, she saw two occupants. The copilot jumped out of his opened doorway and ran for the side of the cabin she’d exited earlier. Meanwhile, the pilot opened his door, hopped out and scanned the area, an Uzi in his grasp. She’d have to take him out first. If she climbed a tree and shot the one running toward the log house, the pilot would take off to save himself. Then she and Ronan would have no way out. She needed that helicopter.

  While she organized her plan, Magnus charged around the corner of the cabin porch, waving that damn old broadaxe. Her stomach nearly dropped to her snow-covered boots. One shot from the pilot, and the bear and Ronan would both be dead. She needed to take the pilot’s attention off Magnus.

  She unsnapped the knives’ scabbards and snatched her blades. Standing behind a large tree, she threw the first one and quickly released the second, hitting the pilot in the leg and arm. He screamed and spun in her direction, a barrage of bullets spraying the copse of trees she hid behind. Branches and wood chips hit her head and shoulders. She shook them off.

  Magnus loped toward the pilot, the broadaxe clasped in his front paw, and struck the pilot in the neck with the weapon. The pilot crumpled in the snow that quickly turned red. A shot cracked in the frigid stillness and the bear roared in pain.

  Anisa’s heart nearly seized in fear. How badly was he hurt? A couple of rolls toward the helicopter and she was covered in snow, making her nearly undetectable. “Magnus,” she whispered, “moan so I know you’re okay.” After his response, she reached to touch her grandmother’s necklace to make sure she hadn’t lost it. She rolled again to hide behind the tail of the aircraft and positioned the rifle to sight the lingering enemy. Where was he hiding?

  No doubt the remaining man had trained as hard and extensively as she had, but her edge had always been her self-confidence. She hadn’t earned the title “Cold Bitch” for nothing. Where would she go if she were in his place? She smiled slightly and raised the weapon—the roof.

  A tiny glare caught her attention before a punch of agony exploded in her shoulder. She swallowed her gasp of pain. The shooter mustn’t know she’d been hurt. He’d prey on her weakness.

  She leaned against the side of the copter, shifted her sunglasses to her scalp, and held the rifle to her injured shoulder. Mentally obliterating the pain until all she heard was her heartbeat, she fired on a solid exhale. The shooter rolled off the top of the cabin. On a run, she jerked her revolver from the back of her snowy jeans and shot him two more times to make sure he wouldn’t fire at Magnus again.

  She kicked the dead man in the ass. What person in his right mind would shoot a pissed-off bear while he’s swinging a broadaxe?

  She raced toward Magnus as he leaned against the helicopter. He moaned and held his upper legs out for her like arms. She wrapped her arms around him, but he slid down her front, almost causing her to lose her balance. His blood stained the snow.

  She kneeled, dropped her weapons, and rubbed his ears. “We’re safe. Magnus did a good job. You were so brave.” She gave him an initial visual examination. A couple of bul
let nicks to his head and two wounds, one to his upper abdomen and the other to his side that bled heavily. “Oh, sweetheart. Both you and Ronan are hurt?”

  Magnus nodded, sadness in his eyes.

  “Ronan, make him get in the helicopter. I’ll fly it to Mathe Bay. I’ll get you home for medical care. Talk to him. I can’t lift him into the copter by myself. I need your help. Now, sweetheart. Help him from the inside of his being.”

  She put her arm around the bear and lifted his shoulders. “Magnus, if you get in this helicopter, I’ll give you all the honey you want.”

  Slowly, he stood and staggered.

  She wrapped her arm around him. Thank goodness they only had a few feet to go to the copilot’s door. Magnus’s mammoth size caused them to topple a few times and his moans indicated he was in severe pain.

  Ronan better do his part from inside his other half because there was no way she could lift a bear into a helicopter. Why can’t they shift even if they’re hurt? I need to ask Ronan to explain that to me again.

  To her relief, after a couple of tries, Magnus climbed into the helicopter. Well, mostly. His ass hung out too far for her to close the door. She tried pushing it in with her hands and he growled. “Magnus, honey, I need you all the way in. Can you sit on your ass…er…arse?” He merely grunted.

  She leaned her uninjured shoulder against his plump, furry behind and shoved while she bitched to herself. “Four years at the military academy, two years at Kansas State University, survival camp in the swamps of Alabama, more schooling in Florida, and then torture endurance training with the Mossad and all so I could heave a bear’s ass into a helicopter. Un-freaking-real. And let me tell ya, the view I’m getting will haunt me in my dreams for years.”

  After much bitching, cursing, and physical exertion, she got Magnus into a sitting position, surely with Ronan’s internal help, and shoved the door shut. She ran around to the pilot’s side, hopped in, and locked all the doors before getting on her knees so she could put the seatbelt around her rotund passenger, which of course, didn’t fit. “Magnus, if we crash, you’re on your own.”