by Vonna Harper
“If you’re thinking about the weather, why do you think I’m in a hurry? For the record, Songan is going with me.”
Gannon didn’t immediately respond, making her wonder if he disapproved. “I guess better a shifter than some of Forestville’s residents. I just don’t want you forgetting he’s half animal.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Are you?”
Sometimes, she decided, two words had more impact than an entire speech. “Songan and I have known each other for years,” she said unnecessarily. “I understand him as well as any human can.”
“Yeah, maybe. Look, those shifters never lose all the elk in them. He’s a male in his prime. Instinct drives a lot of what he does.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said. Better to be honest.
“That’s your business, but no matter how devoted to you you might think he is, he and his kind don’t value life in the same way you and I do. They’re wired different.”
“What are you saying?”
“Just that I don’t see him risking his life for yours if it comes to that.”
Now it was her turn to wait a beat before responding. “You think that’s a possibility?”
Gannon sighed. “Rane, there’s something you need to know. Hell, maybe you already do. Did your mom talk to you about what she’d been up to near the end?”
A too-familiar stab of grief had her slumping into the nearest chair. Was she going to spend the rest of her life regretting putting her mother on the back burner while she did everything possible to put her isolated and limiting Forestville upbringing behind her? “Such as?” she asked.
“Are you alone?”
“Songan’s here.”
“Hmm. Rane, your mother and I suspected illegal activity was going on in the woods. She was trying to convince her superior to assign someone to work with her so the bulk of the investigation didn’t fall on her shoulders, but you know how it is with a federal agency. Everything moves slow, and there are other priorities.”
“Wait. I don’t—what investigation?”
“You don’t know? I’m sorry. Maybe she didn’t want you worrying.”
Teeth clenched, she said, “It’s too late for worry. Gannon, please.”
“This isn’t for the public to know, but I feel safe telling you. I’m sure you’ve come across the same thing in your work.”
Chilled, she waited Gannon out.
“It started this spring. A couple of hikers following the Chinook River came across a bear carcass with bullet holes in it.”
“Spring. It wasn’t hunting season then.”
“No, it wasn’t. I’m not sure who the hikers called initially, but things were routed to your mom, who immediately went out. Only one organ had been taken. The rest of the bear was left to rot.”
“The gall bladder, right?”
“Then your mom told—”
“We’ve talked about this insanity, of course.” No matter how much evidence there was to the contrary, some people, traditional Chinese in particular, believed bear gall bladders were effective in treating heart disease, diabetes, liver disease, even obesity. A single gall could net a bear poacher several thousand dollars.
“Only one bear has been wasted?” she asked.
“No, unfortunately. Four other carcasses have shown up since then, and who knows how many others might be out there.”
An image of an enraged Ber standing over a slaughtered bear momentarily came between her and the ability to speak. “Are you saying Mom was working on this alone?”
“Essentially yes, unfortunately. Several environmental groups were up in arms, and at least two politicians are trying to get funds earmarked to bring Forest Service investigators to the area. Your mother and I had reservations about how effective that would be. Having some strangers show up around here would tip our hands and maybe drive the poachers elsewhere.”
I wish she’d told me. “What happens now?” she made herself ask. “With Mom dead, is whoever’s responsible free to…”
“You don’t want to talk about this. I understand.” Even with the distance between them, she heard Gannon’s compassion. “The Service hasn’t yet chosen someone to replace your mother. Once that person has been selected, I intend to meet with the new guy and press to make apprehending the poachers a priority.”
“They’re more than that.” Her throat burned, forcing her to swallow repeatedly. “The bastards murdered my mother.”
“We don’t know for sure. It could be—”
“What does your gut reaction say?”
“You don’t dance around, do you?”
“Jacki was my mother.” I owe her this.
“Yes, she was. Rane, my gut says that when or if we determine who’s selling black market bear galls, we’ll know who to look at for her killing.”
Thinking Gannon couldn’t have anything more to say, she looked at but didn’t really see her mother’s living room. Songan had come inside and was watching her with his wary animal eyes. If only life was simple and ruled by sex.
“Rane,” Gannon said, “your mom and I were pretty convinced the poacher is a local. Someone we maybe see every day, a neighbor even.”
Suddenly numb, she shivered. “Because of how many area bears have been taken?”
“Exactly.” Gannon sighed. “The poacher—I’m thinking it’s one person, because there’s less chance of loose lips talking—knows these mountains as well as the bears themselves.”
“A neighbor,” Rane repeated. “A so-called friend.”
“Maybe someone your mother’s known for years.”
“She arrested several locals for illegal hunting. Andy, Aaron and Albert Jones blamed her for their convictions.”
“Now there’s siblings without a spare brain cell for the bunch. They’ve caused me trouble for years.”
She struggled to think of something to say. Given Songan’s keen hearing, she had no doubt he’d heard the deputy’s side of the conversation. Compassion and concern weren’t Songan’s strong suits, and yet she took comfort from his unwavering gaze.
“Gannon, I was in the Sawmill the other night. I talked to their cousins Clifford and Chip. I’m not—not pointing fingers at them in particular, just thinking they’re probably barely holding it together financially.”
“You’re asking me if they’re on my suspect list, aren’t you. I haven’t eliminated them, but they aren’t as high as the A brothers.”
“Why’s that?”
“Clifford and Chip’s logging operation won one of the few harvesting contracts to come around in recent years. They’re busy and making money for a change.”
“I went to school with Andy and Aaron. Albert’s younger. Like you said, they aren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer. What are they up to these days?”
“Don’t go there, Rane. You aren’t a detective.”
“What are they up to?”
“Not working for Chip and Clifford and that’s caused some tension in the bunch. From what I hear, the A brothers figure their cousins should have put them on the payroll because they’re blood.”
“I’m trying to remember whether I’ve seen them since I got back.”
“No, you don’t. I’ve already told you more than I wish I had. Let it go. Let me do my job.”
She said something about him already saying that. He asked whether she’d changed her mind about going to Wolverine. Telling him no, she hung up.
Chapter Eleven
“Let Gannon and the rest of the sheriff’s department do their job,” Songan said. Pushing away from the wall he’d been leaning against, he started toward her. “You can’t bring her back.”
But maybe her spirit will find me once I’m where she died. “I know.”
Songan stood leaning down a little as if trying to blanket her body with his. Every night since she’d met Ber, his spirit or something had laid claim to her mind and body in what was
unlike any dream she’d ever had. Now Songan was here, and even with her thoughts on the conversation with the deputy, she gave silent thanks to Songan’s strength.
She suspected she’d need it to get through the next few days.
“I’m glad I’m here,” Songan said as he brushed her cheek. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
She leaned into his touch. “It’s a natural state for you. What makes you think it’s different for me?”
“Instinct.”
Placing his hand under her chin, he guided her face upward and lightly covered her mouth with his. Warmth stole through her as she returned his kiss. Unexpected dizziness prompted her to wrap her arms around his waist. Anchored, she parted her lips.
At his core, Songan was a good man. Single-minded when it came to sex and sometimes rough—not that she minded. Their limited time together had revolved around satisfying their physical needs, but even when his powerful grip left her bruised, she never doubted his heart.
“I want this,” she muttered. “God, how I want.”
His hand slid over her neck, over her collarbone, reached her breast. He started to rub it through the layers of clothing, then stopped. Pulling back a little, he stared down at her. “Do you?”
Warned by his tone, she struggled to meet his somber gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“You tell me.”
What was that she’d just thought of Songan, that he could be rough? What did she expect of someone who could never take survival for granted? Perhaps that’s why he believed in seizing every moment.
Today, dreading what she might find at Wolverine, she longed to live in the present. Songan’s erection had bloomed the instant they touched. He could, they could— “How’s this for your answer?” Sliding her hand between their bodies, she rubbed her knuckles against the familiar and always exciting bulge. “Hell yes, I want.” I need.
To her surprise, Songan didn’t respond as she believed he would. Instead of increasing his hold on her breast, he gently but firmly pushed her away from him.
“Songan?”
“Daylight isn’t going to last. We need to get up there.”
Five minutes later, Songan and she had packed and placed everything they’d need on the front porch. Like ninety-nine percent of the people who lived in the Chinook Mountains, Songan knew how to handle a weapon. So did she. Fortunately the Forest Service-built cabin at Wolverine meant they wouldn’t need to carry a tent. Still shaken by what had happened between them, she patted her pocket to reassure herself that, yes, her cell phone was there. She reached for the handle. Songan stopped her.
“I can’t do it.”
“Can’t do what?” She felt sick. “Have you changed your mind about—”
“Not that. Damn it, Rane, who’d you have sex with?”
She stared at what she could see of her wrist under the man’s fingers. “What?”
His grip tightened. “Don’t do that. I hate being lied to.”
“All I did was ask a question.” From the beginning, Songan’s skin touching hers had turned her on. Something as simple as his elbow brushing her had her wanting to see him naked. After what had happened between them a few minutes ago, having him hold her in place with his legs, both barriers and potential stripped her mind and filled her body with heat.
“There are certain scents a shower can’t get rid of. Arousal. Who turned you on?”
“No one. I’ve been having dreams. Explicit ones.” Didn’t I? “I can’t help how my body responds. And even if a man spent the night, you don’t own me.”
But he wanted to. The harsh intensity in his eyes left her with no doubt of that. Dream-Ber had acted the same way.
“I don’t want to get into this,” she told Songan with the need for something she refused to name arcing through her. “There’s only one thing I’m interested in right now. If you can’t handle that, I’ll go alone.”
“No, you won’t.”
He’d cut off the circulation in her wrist, but he probably wasn’t aware of how much pressure he was exerting.
“I mean it, Rane,” he continued. “Gannon’s right. It isn’t safe for you to be alone up there.”
“I’m aware of that. No way I couldn’t be.” Later, maybe, she’d ask why he was being so insistent but not now with desire strong and dangerous between them. Either they get underway, or they’d tear off each other’s clothes.
Songan hoisted one of the two backpacks off the floor before releasing her. Instead of descending the porch steps and heading for her truck, however, he stood motionless. On edge, she picked up her pack.
Because the big elk shifter still hadn’t moved, she slipped around him. That’s when she spotted what had captured his attention. Ber stood with his back to the truck’s driver’s side door, and his deep black eyes slowly moved from her to Songan and back again.
The men were pit bulls, two potent males taking their measure of each other. Willing and ready to fight. A lightning strike couldn’t have made more of an impact.
“What are you doing here?” she asked Ber.
Despite the biting wind, he wore only jeans, hiking boots and an unzipped denim jacket over a muscle-hugging white T-shirt. He seemed oblivious to the way the jacket slapped at his chest and airborne leaves and other debris swirled around him. Behind him the gray-black sky promised winter.
“Waiting for you,” he said.
“Who the hell is he?” Songan demanded.
Even though doing so left her even more off-balance, Rane took her time studying the two men. Given how they were positioned, she couldn’t say which was taller, not that it mattered. Both were densely muscled and carried themselves in ways that said they were aware of their bodies’ full potential. Ber’s hair seemed a little darker and longer, while Songan’s eyebrows were bushier. Neither had shaved recently. Their clothing was made for a physical life.
Because he was so close, Songan’s warmth didn’t surprise her. At the same time, she swore Ber’s heat was reaching her. The bear shifter gave every appearance of being impervious to the weather, but then she could say the same of Songan.
Two shape-shifters meeting for the first time. Challenging each other for supremacy and without moving a muscle, yet. Both men determined to lay claim to her.
Feeling weightless and disconnected from everything, she hoisted her pack over her shoulder and started down the stairs. She half expected Songan to stop her, and when he didn’t, she looked back at him. He continued to glare at Ber, who was doing the same.
So this was what it was like to be desired and desirable, she distractedly mused as she reached the ground. Only, was she the prize or were the men more intent on proving themselves to each other?
“You said you were waiting for me. Why?” she asked Ber. Her lips felt numb, and looking up at him made her neck ache.
“I have no choice.”
Was he referring to the crazy thing he’d said about her being a vital cog in the Enyeto’s future? Hell of a time to bring it up if he was. “You ever hear of free will?” she threw at him, when the truth was, she longed to touch him. To explore the connection to her dreams. “It means I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Irritated and aware, she dropped her pack. Moments ago she’d touched Songan’s cock. Now she wanted to do the same to Ber. She wouldn’t, damn it! “Whatever. I need you to get out of the way.”
Ber folded his arms across his chest. “You have to go there? Nothing can stop you.”
There. Where my mother’s life ended. “Yes.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
“The hell you are,” Songan snapped from behind her. “That’s what I’m doing.”
Songan was right. The two of them had come to a reluctant decision about how today would play out. As exciting as the thought might be—and it was—she didn’t need two bodyguards.
Only these men were far from bodyguards. They were, what, her lovers? Bu
t she hadn’t had sex with Ber. Had she?
“I’ve been listening.” Ber directed his comment at her. “Learning.”
“Learning what?”
“There’ve been more deaths than just your mother’s and the young elk. Bear.”
“How do you know that?” Songan asked.
Struck by the lessening of macho in his tone, she studied Songan, who was studying Ber as if he’d never seen anything like him.
“Death stays in the air and on the ground,” Ber said. “And in the hearts of those who witness it.”
A cop like Gannon probably wouldn’t have any idea what Ber was talking about, but she’d spent enough time around Songan that she understood.
“What did they witness?” Songan asked.
“A rifle being fired in the middle of the night. A bear bellowing in pain, trying to bite where he’d been shot, falling to the ground, bleeding. Dying.”
That could have been her mother! Some of it anyway.
“And they,” Songan said, “whoever they were, told you those things?”
Alerted by Songan’s challenge, she tried to divide her attention between the two men. Once again she was captivated by the similarities between them, the wildness in their harsh gazes. The pure sex flowing through their veins and reaching her.
“Yes,” Ber answered Songan. “They did. And to answer the question you haven’t yet asked, I learned what I needed to from deer. Owls. A young cougar.”
Wondering if Songan would call Ber a liar, she readied herself for renewed hostility. Instead, Songan slowly relaxed. He no longer held himself as if he was about to attack.
“And you,” Ber said.
“Me?”
“When we found the young elk with a bullet through its heart.”
“You…”
“I was there.”
Comprehension exploded in Songan’s expression. “You’re the grizzly.”
Ber nodded. “I felt your grief as you stood over what could have been your offspring.”