Saved by a Bear (Legends of Black Salmon Falls Book 2)

by Lauren Lively

  “And right now,” I added. “Our people are disappearing without a trace. And people are frightened.”

  Asher nodded. “And it's up to us – as their leaders – to figure out who's taking them, why they're being taken, and put a stop to it.”

  Mariana nodded. “So, what do we do?”

  “If I can make a suggestion?” I said.

  She looked at me, her expression softer than I'd seen in it in forever. “Please.”

  “Gather your clan,” I said. “Talk to them. Tell them you know what's going on and that you share their fears. But reassure them that we will get to the bottom of this. That we are going to put an end to these disappearances.”

  “I agree with Luca,” Asher said. “That's a good first step.”

  She looked at him, giving him a small smile, and nodded. “I can do that.”

  Asher reached across the table and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. And in that moment, I could see in her eyes that she still cared for him. Probably still loved him. In that moment, I could see just how hard she'd taken his rejection of her in favor of Rose. The pain was written all over her face – and she either didn't realize it or didn't care.

  “Don't worry, Mariana,” Asher said gently. “We'll get this fixed. You will earn the trust and respect of the N'gasso. We're going to help you.”

  “Thank you,” she said with genuine gratitude in her voice.

  “Of course,” he replied. “I believe you have it in you to be a great Chief, Mariana. You just need to believe in yourself.”

  She wiped away the tears that had fallen down her face and got herself composed. I took a drink of my coffee and sat back, giving her a minute to collect herself. Mariana cleared her throat and stood up, smoothing out her skirt.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Well, I need to get the word out that we have a clan meeting tonight,” she said. “I'll need to prepare for that.”

  Asher nodded approvingly. “If you want me to be there –”

  She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, but no,” she said. “I think it would send the wrong message. If I'm the leader of the N'gasso, I need to speak to them directly.”

  “Well, if you need anything, just let me know.”

  “I will, thank you,” she said.

  “I'll be in touch before your meeting,” I said. “I'll get you any information I manage to dig up between now and then.”

  She nodded. “I appreciate that,” she said. “And since I have a little bit of time before the meeting, I think I'm going to go hit that shoe sale.”

  She turned and sauntered out of the diner, leaving Asher and I shaking our heads and chuckling.

  Chapter Five

  “Well, that went better than expected,” I said after Mariana had left.

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” Asher replied.

  We ate in a companionable silence for a few minutes, enjoying our breakfast. But underlying everything – and casting a shadow over us -- was the real issue we were facing. And that issue was the disappearances. We finished eating and pushed our plates away from us, leaning back, full and content. Diana appeared a moment later to refresh our coffee and take our plates away.

  “Thank you, Diana,” Asher said. “And I'm sorry about Mari --”

  She waved him off. “She is who she is,” she said. “It doesn't bother me.”

  She smiled and walked off, leaving Asher and me alone. Diana knew who – and what – we were, and was in the group within the city that liked having us there. Which, I was thankful for. If I had to live without getting my country fried steak fix when the craving hit, life wouldn't be worth living.

  As we sat in silence, sipping our coffee, the mood began to darken between us. The weight of the situation we were dealing with was beginning to take hold and become somewhat oppressive. What was happening was serious – and very dangerous.

  “When was the last time Burrows was seen?” I asked.

  “Night before last,” he replied. “Having drinks with some buddies down at the Salmon Run.”

  The Salmon Run was a relatively new bar down by the river that ran through the middle of town. Given the fact that it was mostly frequented by hipsters and yuppies, I was surprised that somebody like Burrows – a large, burly man who was pretty rough around the edges – would go there. It didn't seem to be his kind of scene.

  “They found his truck in the parking lot the next morning,” Asher said. “No sign of him anywhere.”

  I nodded. “So, that makes six disappearances in the last month?”

  Asher nodded. “Vanished without a single trace or shred of evidence,” he said. “These people are just – ghosts.”

  “Huh,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. “Six people, not all of the same clan, just vanish into thin air. No witnesses, no evidence, no trace of – anything?”

  “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  “Whoever is doing this is good,” I said, stating the obvious. “It's not easy to take one of us out. I imagine it's even harder to take one of us out without a trace.”

  Asher nodded. “Tell me about it.”

  “Any suspects at all?”

  He shrugged. “Not really,” he said. “Though, I have to think that the guys who raided the N'gasso compound – the guys in the black uniforms – are somehow involved with this. They tried – and failed – to start a war between the Q'lapa and the N'gasso, and then they failed to destroy the clan outright. I don't think they'd just give up like that.”

  “Yeah, but who are they?”

  He shook his head. “No idea,” he said. “That's the problem. Well, one of them anyway.”

  “But why take us one at a time?” I asked. “If that's their new plan, it's not a very good one.”

  Asher ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that thought's crossed my mind too,” he said. “Going from trying to incite an all-out war, to trying to wipe out an entire clan – to this. Picking us off one by one. It doesn't make a lot of sense.”

  I ran my hand along my jawline, racking my brain, trying to see the bigger picture I was obviously missing.

  “Well, what's our first step here?” I asked.

  “The first step is to gather some intel,” he said. “We need to know who and what we're up against.”

  A wry chuckle escaped my lips. “Going to be hard to do when we're up against a group of ghosts.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  I drained the last of my coffee and set the mug back down. It was a mystery, to be sure. And it had me more than a little worried. If our ghosts could take down a bear without leaving a trace, they had to be very well trained and very well equipped. This wasn't a case of some town yokels out trying to get rid of the “bear problem” in Black Salmon Falls. This was a case of specific targeting and flawless execution.

  “Where is Burrows' truck now?” I asked.

  “I had it towed over to Dale's shop.”

  I nodded. Dale was a friend who ran a car repair shop in town. Probably the best place to stash the truck for now if we wanted to avoid the police. And given the fact that Sheriff Richards was in the camp that would prefer seeing us all exterminated, we wanted to keep the cops out of this entirely, if possible. Not that I really thought they'd work the case of a bunch of missing shifters all that hard or with any enthusiasm. In the eyes of people like Richards, the only good shifter was a dead shifter.

  So, very likely, from Richards' point of view, whoever was abducting bears was doing good work. And he wasn't likely to get in anybody's way – except ours.

  “Let me look into it,” I said.

  He shook his head. “No, until we know what's going on, I won't put you at risk,” he said. “Having you disappear is the last thing I need or want.”

  “Asher,” I said. “You need two things here – somebody you can trust, and somebody who is a hell of a tracker. I'm both.”

  “No, Luca,” he said. “I can't afford to put you at risk. We'll find another way. Somebody
else who can look into this.”

  “Yeah? Like who?” I asked. “Who else can track like me?”

  Asher stared into his coffee mug and smirked. He knew I had him. I'd been trained by some of the best trackers in the country – the local Native Americans. My father had quite a few friends within the local tribal community and I'd grown up immersed in their culture. And one of the things they'd taught me was how to track. They'd taught me to use my heightened senses in a way that most of our kind didn't. That, combined with their way of doing things, had made me one of the very best trackers in the Pacific Northwest – if not the entire country. And I didn't think it was an overinflated ego that made me believe that.

  “I'm really reluctant to put you out there, Luca,” he said. “You're flying blind.”

  I shrugged and gave him a grin. “Story of my life.”

  “Yeah, except this time, it could cost you your life,” he said, his tone grim. “We have no idea why they're taking our people. What their purpose is or what they're doing with them.”

  “I'm not flying totally blind, Asher,” I said. “I'm going into this knowing they're out there. I know the risk and I know the threat. I'll be on guard.”

  He sighed and ran a hand across his face. “You really need to bring your A-game here, Luca,” he said. “You need to be aware of everything around you at all times.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  “And if anything, even the slightest thing, strikes you as off,” he said, pinning me with his gaze, “you are to get the hell out of there immediately. Am I clear?”

  I gave him a small salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”

  “I'm serious,” he said. “These people are obviously very good and they aren't screwing around. Something's happening and we're in the dark. Which makes it twice as dangerous for us.”

  “I'm just going to have a look around and see if I can gather some intel,” I said. “I'm not going to go storming the castle by myself. Don't worry, I'll be safe.”

  He nodded, but couldn't hide the expression of concern on his face. “And you will check in regularly,” he said. “Got it?”

  “Yes, mom,” I replied with a smirk. “I got it.”

  He let out a long breath and nibbled on his bottom lip, looking uncertain and more than a little concerned.

  “Okay then,” he said. “Go take a look around. Very quietly.”

  “I'm on it,” I replied. “We'll get some answers soon.”

  “I hope you're right.”

  Chapter Six

  Olivia

  I rode in the back of the truck – a converted armored car, actually – my weapon at the ready. We were transferring the man to our buyer. It was my first run with the transfer team and I was a little nervous. But also anxious – this was where I might start finding some answers about what happened to Emily.

  The back of the truck was gloomy, a small overhead light that did very little to dispel the shadows was our only source of illumination. But I could see well enough to see that the man – our prisoner – was staring straight at me, his dark eyes sparkling like chips of obsidian in the faint light.

  “Where are we going?” he asked me.

  “For a ride,” I said. “I thought you'd be glad to get out of the cage for a while.”

  He held up the silver shackles that bound his wrists and ankles to the chain around his waist. “Yeah, this is a real joyride,” he said. “I'm enjoying this little field trip a lot.”

  “Shut up,” said the man next to me – Parker.

  Parker was a hardass – a guy whose attitude problems led him to being passed over for promotion time and time again back in the service. Which only added to his already poor attitude. But he was strong and he was loyal – which made him invaluable to McCoy.

  The three of us rode in silence, the man's chains clinking together. When I looked up, I saw that he was still looking at me, giving me a knowing smile. The way he stared at me sent chills down my spine. It was like he knew my secret. Knew my real reason for being part of that group and in the back of the truck with him.

  It was paranoia. Had to be. There was no way he could know. All he knew with any certainty was that I'd asked him about Emily. He had no idea who she was or what she meant to me. He didn't know what my real mission was.

  And as I tried to get my mind flowing in a more logical, less emotionally-driven direction, I made myself think about those facts.

  “So, you gonna tell him,” the man said. “Or should I?”

  My blood froze as the words fell from his lips. I'd been stupid to ask him about Emily so bluntly and openly. With the others, I'd been a little more circumspect with my questioning. But something about the man had rattled me and I'd just blurted it out. It was stupid. Rash. And now, I had to find some way to cover it up – something that might prove difficult given that Parker already didn't like me and was looking for ways to discredit me with McCoy.

  He didn't trust me – hadn't since day one. But then, Parker didn't like or trust many people, so it was possible that in my already paranoid state, I was reading too much into things.

  “Shut the hell up,” I told the man.

  “Seriously,” the man said, turning his eyes to Parker. “Did you know –”

  He never got to finish his sentence because I slammed the butt of my weapon into his face. His head rocked back and bounced off the side of the truck, making it ring hollowly. He shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs and spat a mouthful of blood on the floor at our feet.

  “I said shut up,” I snapped. “Open your mouth again and you're going to be missing teeth.”

  Parker chuckled and when he looked at me, I saw something of an impressed, even approving look upon his face. He gave me a small nod and then turned back to our prisoner.

  “I'd listen to the lady,” he said. “She's apparently got a temper like mine.”

  The man fell silent, looking at me with an intense hatred in his eyes. I leaned back against the side on my bench, feeling slightly better about the situation. Though, I knew that I was far from out of the woods entirely. I really needed to watch my step.

  The truck stopped and the engine shut off. We'd arrived at our destination. Ideally, I would have known where we were going or would have at least been able to watch our route, to get an idea. But things were ever really ideal, so I was going to have to do what I did best – improvise.

  A moment later, the rear doors of the truck opened up, revealing McCoy and Walker.

  “Let's go,” McCoy said. “Out of the truck.”

  Parker got the prisoner on his feet and marched him to the rear doors. Walker stood off to the side, weapon at the ready, as Parker and McCoy helped the man down from the truck. I jumped down and walked alongside Walker behind McCoy and Parker, who kept the man between them, moving forward. We were heading for what looked like an old, abandoned warehouse. I looked around, searching for landmarks that might help me identify it later.

  The warehouse itself looked run down – almost dilapidated. We walked through a parking lot that was cracked, broken, and filled with weeds. The warehouse itself sat in a clearing with forest, dense and thick, on all sides – which made it seem ideal to conduct transactions like the one we were currently engaged in.

  It was a clear, cool night and a full moon hung high overhead, casting the land around us in a monochromatic light. I looked at the building itself and saw that there was – or at least, at one time – had been a name and logo painted onto the side. All that was left of the name was K-E-R and the tail of a fish where the logo had once been. Other than that, there really wasn't a lot I could use to identify the building or its location.

  But it would just have to be enough. Being an investigative journalist – my job ever since I rotated home after my service – taught me to be an excellent researcher. And those skills were quite obviously, going to be put to the test.

  We stopped before a door that I was surprised to find had an electronic keypad mounted beside it – and
that it was active. Glancing up, I saw a red light, indicating that there was a camera mounted in the shadows of the building's eaves.

  Curiosity washed over me in giant waves – why would a run down, dilapidated old warehouse in the middle of nowhere be equipped with thoroughly modern, and active, security tech?

  McCoy reached out and pushed a button on the keypad. A moment later, a buzzer sounded and the door slid aside. Pushing the man across the threshold, McCoy and Parker followed him in and we followed them in. The door slid shut behind us, an electronic lock slamming into place with the sound of finality. We were locked in a short hallway, waiting for a door at the other end to open.

  When the lock on the door behind us slammed home, the door in front of us opened. I followed everybody through, marveling at what I was seeing. The interior of the warehouse was completely incongruous with the exterior. While the outside of the building looked like a run-down structure on the verge of collapse, the interior was thoroughly modern and completely high-tech.

  The interior of the warehouse was brightly lit and hummed with activity. All of the windows had been sealed over and it looked like the interior of the building had been reinforced with steel. The exterior of the building was nothing more than a facade. And if you didn't know better, you wouldn't know that this place existed. All you would see was what they wanted you to see – a dilapidated structure.

  Off to one side of the building were banks of computers, operated by men and women in plain black uniforms. I wasn't close enough to get any sense of what they were working on, but they appeared to be busy. At the far end of the building looked to be a motor pool. An array of black, unmarked vehicles – some civilian model SUV's, others military Humvees and armored personnel carriers – were being worked on.

  And set off to our left was what looked like a training area. Men and women drilled in martial arts, weaponry, different assault tactics, and they were being overseen by trainers in the same plain, black fatigues the computer operators were wearing.