Running Bear (Wounded Warriors Book 1)

by Tunstall,Kit

  “I don’t think he’s crazy at all,” she said with a hint of chill in her tone. “He’s the one who told me three of your teammates are dead in strange accidents, and at least three are missing or out of contact. He said they’re coming for you.”

  Wyatt stiffened, inadvertently allowing his hold on the door to go lax enough for her to slip inside and slam the door behind herself. He didn’t miss how she carefully checked that both of the locks were engaged. Her paranoia was contagious, but he shook his head. “Mal always assumed they’d eliminate us, but if they had planned to do that, they wouldn’t have just discharged us from service after the funding for the program ended. They would have eliminated us then.”

  She looked intrigued. “What program? I can’t get any answers out of any of you.”

  “It’s classified, top-secret stuff that I’m not allowed to discuss even now. I can’t tell anyone.”

  She let out that same sound of frustration, though modulated in a lower tone. “Why are you continuing to be loyal to people who’re hunting you?”

  He made a scoffing sound. “Hunting me? Mal’s a good guy, but he’s always seen the worst in everything, especially the government. He was bitter about what they did to us, and he let it taint his life outside the military. The Army isn’t tracking us down, and if you’ve come all this way just to tell me about three of my teammates being dead, I appreciate the effort, but I have no intention of going to funerals or memorial services or whatever anyone has planned.”

  “There won’t be services, as far as I know. Joanna had a heart attack in the middle of a marathon. Sam’s house went up in a gas explosion, and Donnie supposedly got a cramp and died while swimming.”

  He felt the stirring of unease at the deaths. A heart attack in a healthy woman in her thirties sounded suspicious, but was entirely plausible. He had a difficult time believing Sam, who had been a hyena-shifter, hadn’t smelled a gas leak before it ignited, but he could have been sleeping and didn’t wake up in time to escape. The last one was what caught his attention. Donnie had been a seal-shifter, and the odds of him dying while swimming were astronomical.

  His gaze cut to the locks on the door almost automatically, and he gripped the gun in his hand more tightly as he turned away from her to go to the back room. Of course she followed, but he was focused on reaching Malcolm at the moment.

  He sat down at the table housing the small military radio he’d taken with him at Mal’s behest. All of his former teammates had the same model, and they had predesignated frequencies to contact each other. He tuned to the emergency frequency Mal had established, freezing for a moment at the sound of his friend’s voice filling the room. It took a moment to realize it was a recording.

  “—for sanctuary. There’s a chip in your shoulder. Or I assume there is. There was one in the shoulder of the soldier I took down before leaving, and I found one in mine in the same spot when I looked. You’re going to have to dig around and find it, because if you leave it in, they’ll be able to follow you anywhere. My fellow teammates, they’re coming for us. It’s time to head for sanctuary. There’s a chip…”

  He listened to the entire recording again, this time writing down the coordinates as Mal gave them in code. It was a code they had established and used among themselves, not an official military code. Joanna had been a gifted encrypter, and she had been the one to make it secure, so he trusted that if anyone overheard the transmission, they would have a difficult time discerning the coordinates.

  With a sigh, he pushed back from the table, stood up, and turned to look at her.

  She was nibbling on her lower lip in a way that betrayed how nervous she was. Her eyes were filled with anxiety when she met his gaze. “The last time I got hold of Mal, it was him directly. It wasn’t a recording. I didn’t use a secure frequency though. I only have the one, but I assume there’s more than that?”

  He nodded. “Nothing’s truly secure though, even with part of the message encoded. I need you to do something for me.”

  She didn’t even hesitate, and that cut through him, because after the way he treated her for the last eighteen months, she would have been well within her rights to tell him to go to hell. For that matter, she didn’t have to come warn him at all. For a moment, he speculated there was still love there, but quickly shoved aside the idea. It didn’t matter if there was. Being away from her was what was best for her. Best for everyone.

  “How can I help you?”

  “I need you to cut open my shoulder and dig around.”

  She went pale and started sweating, shaking her head in the process. “I can’t do that.”

  He abruptly remembered their freshman biology class, when they had been paired together to dissect the frog. The first cut in its stomach had made her turn a similar shade, and she’d ended up vomiting all over the floor. He’d finish the dissection, and the teacher had pretended not to notice that he had done all the work.

  He almost chuckled as he recalled her face then, but too much had happened for him to truly feel amused. “You’re going to have to. I can’t see what I’m doing, and if there really is a chip in my shoulder, I need to get it out. If there’s nothing there, I can safely dismiss this all as Mal’s paranoia.”

  Her lips tightened, and she nodded her head once. She turned on her heel and marched from the back room, heading down the hallway to the kitchen. By the time he entered behind her, she had found her way to the knife block and withdrawn the chef’s knife and a thinner paring knife.

  The sight of those in her hands gave him pause for just a moment, and he swallowed thickly as he contemplated just how much he had hurt her. Would he blame her if she suddenly drove the chef’s knife into the base of his skull instead of using it to slice his shoulder? Would he even care? Going through the motions of living every day had gotten old. He wasn’t suicidal, but he wasn’t exactly quaking at the prospect of death either. In a way, if the government was really out to get him, it might be a blessed relief to let them just have him.

  With a shake of his head, dismissing his defeatist thoughts, he turned away from her and sat down at the kitchen table. He held his breath as she got nearer, his enhanced senses able to discern the hitch in her breathing, coupled with a sudden spike of fear in her pheromones.

  He hadn’t smelled another living person’s pheromones for months, not since his last trip down the mountain for supplies, and he wasn’t certain if it was an ability that had been blunted like everything else, or if his bear was surging back to life now that she was here. Or perhaps it was just a lack of contact with everyone, and he would have had the same response with anyone. He didn’t know, but he didn’t like thinking that having her near was bringing the bear closer to the surface. He had to get rid of her as soon as possible.

  She hesitated for a long time, even after he let out a lengthy sigh and stripped off his shirt, trying to prompt her to continue. “Just do it.”

  “I can’t,” she said in a shaky voice.

  With a sigh of impatience, partially because he wanted to know if Mal was right, and also because he just wanted to get rid of her before he lost control, he allowed the bear to slip through just enough for claws to extend from his fingers. He slashed at both sides of his shoulders, having no idea which one might have the chip, and hissed in agony as pain rushed through him.

  When the bear tried to take over, surging to the forefront with a roar that seemed to be prompted by the smell of his own blood, he gritted his teeth, cursed under his breath, and forced back the beast before it could take over. In just seconds, he felt like he had lost all the progress he’d made in the past year-and-a-half, and anger stirred within him.

  “That might have been a bit drastic,” she said, her voice still shaky. “I think I see something though.”

  “Get it out,” he demanded with a growl in his tone.

  Her breath and her fear underlying her pheromones indicated she wanted to protest, so he was almost surprised when he felt the knife slicing through
his left shoulder a moment later, digging deeper into the incision he made himself. Incision was hardly the right word though, unless a bear could perform delicate surgery.

  He winced and clamped down his teeth, grinding until the sound filled the room as she dug around carefully in his flesh. After what felt like tortuously long minutes, but was probably only a few seconds, the blade moved away. There was one last sharp pain as she wrenched something from his flesh, and then she leaned across him and dropped it on the table.

  Even in pain, he was suddenly aware of her proximity, her warm feminine curves pressing briefly against him, and the cinnamon scent of her shampoo. She must still use the same brand. It took everything he had not to bury his face in the golden-red strands and force his expression to remain impassive as she moved away, coming around from behind him to sit at the table on his other side.

  She looked at his shoulders, her expression one of confusion. “Why don’t you shift and heal yourself?”

  He gritted his teeth as he shook his head. “I don’t shift anymore.” The words were angrier than he’d intended, but he was still in the throes of the rage he felt at having lost so much progress in such a short amount of time.

  In an attempt to focus elsewhere, and direct his thoughts from sex and anger, a bad combination, he looked down at the device she had dug from his shoulder. It was small, certainly less than half an inch by half an inch, and it had been in his body at least since he’d gone into the special program during his last three years in the military. It still blinked, a blue light flashing every few seconds.

  With a small roar, he brought his fist down and crushed it with one blow. The little device seemed to confirm Mal’s message, and he was certain the government was coming for him. They had known where he was all along, so he must be somewhere on their list. If they’d already managed to take out six of his teammates—at least three confirmed kills and three MIAs—it couldn’t be long before they got to him. If he wasn’t going to turn himself in peacefully and accept his fate quietly, he had to get out of there right then.

  He looked up. “It’s time to go.”

  She nodded. “I have my car, but your Jeep might be a better option.”

  He compressed his lips. “It’s time for you to go home is what I meant. I still have to plan what I’m going to do, but it doesn’t include you.”

  Her hurt was raw and visible on her face. “I want to come with you. I want to help.”

  He shook his head. “It’s out of the question.”

  “You can’t send me back there. They probably know how much I know by now, and I’ll be a target too.”

  He shook his head. “I doubt they paid any attention to you at all. You’re nothing in the scheme of things.”

  “I was your fiancée, and your mate, if they know anything about that side of your nature. I’m sure I’ve come under scrutiny, especially since I’ve been in contact with your teammates. They could use me against you.”

  He felt like the world’s biggest bastard when he forced himself to say, “That would only work if you meant something to me.”

  For just a moment, she looked like he had physically punched her in the face, and she drew in a deep, ragged gasp. After a moment, her expression calmed, and she sounded dignified when she spoke again. “We both know you’re full of shit. Somewhere inside, you want me and love me just as much as you used to. Now’s not the time to discuss all that, but you can’t pretend like I don’t mean something to you, and you can’t ignore the fact that if you don’t take me with you, it’s like sending me somewhere to die. Are you that disconnected from what we had and what we were? Are you okay with just letting me die?”

  He closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh before opening them again. “Of course not. We need to get out of here right now though. If Malcolm is right, and they’re really coming for us, they know right where I am.” A sense of violation swept over him as he realized they had implanted him with a chip to track him. Without his permission or knowledge, they had been keeping tabs on him for years. It was disgusting, and if any of the people involved in the program had been in the room, he wouldn’t have hesitated to unleash the bear on them. It was what they would have deserved, since they had turned his bear into such a lethal weapon anyway.

  She didn’t argue or hesitate as he directed her to gather nonperishable items in a large plastic tote while he went back to the gun safe. He emptied it of weapons and ammo, shoving them into a large duffel bag in a matter of minutes. When he returned to the kitchen, he found her struggling to lug the plastic tote to the table. He took it from her easily, his bear moaning in the back of his head when his hand brushed hers.

  He did his best to suppress his and his animal’s reaction to the simple touch. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to reach out to her, and even an accidental brush of her hand against his was enough to send his heart racing. He didn’t have time for that, and he still couldn’t afford to lose control. In spite of the external danger, he couldn’t compromise on allowing her to get close to him again. She was in just as much danger from him as she was from the government coming to kill him.

  They left the bugout cabin less than five minutes later, after he had loaded the bag of weapons in the back alongside the food. Before closing the door, he opened the bag just long enough to extract one of the smaller handguns, which he pressed into her palm. “It’s loaded, but the safety’s on. Do you remember how to use it?”

  She nodded, slipping it into the waistband of her jeans, which made him flinch at the thought. She should have a holster for safety, but he didn’t have anything like that available to offer her.

  “It’s not exactly the same model I taught you to shoot with, but it’s pretty close. It has more of a recoil, but it’s the lightest one I have.”

  She nodded. “I remember how to shoot.” Her eyes softened, and her breath grew uneven for just a moment. “I remember all about that summer.”

  His nostrils flared as he detected her sudden sense of desire, and he groaned softly as he remembered that summer too. It was when they had become lovers during long days spent at the lake, sometimes swimming, sometimes just lounging with friends, and occasionally spiced up with shooting lessons when she had expressed an interest in learning how to shoot.

  The nights had been the most memorable part. Though they had been just seventeen, it hadn’t taken them long to figure out what the fuss was about, and how to please each other.

  He slammed the door on the back of the Jeep as hard as he could, hoping to jar loose the memory and shove it away. “Get in. We have to go.” He spoke gruffly, doing his best to separate from her, both physically and emotionally, as he went around the other side of the Jeep and climbed into the seat. She took the passenger side, and he had to physically force himself to remain still rather than hugging the door to put more space between them. He would only look like an idiot, and it wouldn’t do anything to soothe his sudden, raging need for her.

  He turned the key, and the Jeep started immediately. He didn’t take it down the mountain very often, but he kept the maintenance up-to-date. It wasn’t just a matter of practicality, but was also a way to keep himself busy and to keep his mind off thoughts he didn’t want to dwell on.

  They crested to the end of the driveway and were about to head down the steep hill when he heard the familiar whomp, whomp, whomp sound of helicopter blades approaching. Considering he had never heard aircraft in the eighteen months he’d lived in the bugout cabin, it seemed like too big of a coincidence that one would suddenly fly by. He doubted the helicopter could hold anything but the soldiers sent there to eliminate him. They had run out of time.

  Chapter Two

  Wyatt slammed his foot onto the gas pedal, making the Jeep shudder before it surged forward down the hill at a breakneck speed. It was careless and dangerous, but so was allowing the helicopter to trap them at the cabin.

  They made it halfway down the steep driveway before the helicopter changed course to a
pproach. There was no warning or no demand to stop. The helicopter simply fired upon them, using large-caliber bullets from the guns attached to the interior. The door was open so whoever manned the gun could fire at them, but he couldn’t make out enough detail between trying to maintain control of the Jeep and avoid the brilliant flashes of gunfire destroying his night vision to discern how many might be occupying the helicopter. Even his bear’s senses weren’t enough to answer that question.

  One of the bullets hit the car, and the Jeep shuddered and stalled. From the hissing sound, he guessed they had either busted the block or taken out the radiator. Maybe both. Either way, the Jeep wasn’t going to go much farther. He turned sharply on the steering wheel, veering off the gravel driveway and into the bumpy overgrowth of the forest around them. The Jeep jostled and bumped along the uneven terrain, and he heard Gillian cry out, but couldn’t look away from the path in front of him to determine the cause of her expression of either pain or fear.

  The Jeep made it farther than he’d expected, probably at least a quarter of a mile off the driveway before it shuddered to a halt, completely seized. It was useless, but he tried turning the ignition, and not a thing happened. The Jeep was definitely dead. “Come on. Hurry up, and stay close to me.”

  She didn’t argue as she slid from her side of the Jeep and met him around the back. He opened the door and scooped up the duffel bag of weapons, reluctantly leaving the food she had packed. They couldn’t take both, and the guns would be more useful in the current situation.