Extreme Measures

by Kimmie Easley

  I already have my outfit picked out for the day, allowing me to take my time in the shower. I glide the razor over my cream lathered leg, and I giggle out loud when I think about a time when I won’t be able to reach my feet.

  Looking forward to the big belly, I towel dry my hair, dabbing another towel at my damp body.

  The heels took me longer to pick out than the clothes. I opt for a pair of fierce, red pumps.

  “Well, look at you!” Jessa shouts, whistling from the doorway. “Fancy.”

  “Thanks.” I stand back and open my arms. “Too much?”

  She shakes her dark curls. “Nope. Perfection for the first day back to work.”

  “I can’t believe I’m starting a new job. And with the DA’s office? I can’t believe it.”

  “I can. You were born for this shit. You were always destined for more than this club. Even Pop knew it.”

  “Hell, he’d consider me a traitor for this, no doubt.”

  “Did you let Garner know about the wee one coming soon.”

  Every mention of the baby brings a huge, toothy grin to my face. “Yeah, I did. He congratulated me and asked if I’d made a decision yet. I just feel like this is right, ya know?”

  With Brendan and the new baby, we have to have a life outside of this damn club.

  “You’re gonna be such a great mom.”

  Her simple statement brings hot moisture to my eyes.

  “Come on, now. Don’t mess up your makeup. You gotta get that pregnant ass to work, madam prosecutor.”

  I give a nervous giggle, but I know she’s right.

  I walk out the door, saying my good mornings and goodbyes in one quick passing.

  Bear hops on his bike, nodding in my direction, obviously my detail for the day.

  Some things will never change.

  THE END

  SCROLL TO READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF TAMING THE BEAR (TERREBONNE PARISH SHIFTERS SERIES, BOOK 3)

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  About Kimmie:

  Kimmie is an International Bestselling author who grew up traveling the country, rarely settling in one place for much longer than a minute. Being no stranger to heartache, she allows her unconventional childhood to fuel her writing.

  Being a bisexual woman, Kimmie is a proud activist within the LGBTQ / Rainbow and mental health communities. She is a homeschool momma, southern wife, and pug wrangler. Kimmie is addicted to all things books, wine, cupcakes, and flip-flops.

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  TAMING the BEAR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Kingston

  Razor-like claws slice through the thick, swamp air that’s still heavy from the relentless afternoon on the bayou. The flesh is light and creamy until… until the massive paw slashes through her pink flushed neck, tinted from the gushing blood.

  Fire blazes in the background as the boat is reduced to kindling.

  Planks of wood float on the water from the debris leftover by the shattered pier, and crimson puddles around her lifeless body. My senses are upside down, and my ears are muffled. The thunderous roar falls silent on my ringing ears as the red trickles into the muddy delta.

  Stepping over the crumpled bones of what’s left of the Laissard crew, I make my way towards her. We demolished the pack, with only a few, key members left standing.

  But it wasn’t worth the cost.

  There’s nothing that will ever come close to being worth that kind of pain.

  I endure the grueling Change back after the only carnage left is the bitter tinge of wolf blood on my tongue.

  With smoke-filled lungs, I fall to the ground at her side.

  Her glazed-over, blue eyes attempt to focus on me, but her gaze is distant. Lost, and I apply pressure to the slashes along her one elegant neck.

  It’s not working.

  So, I do the next best thing, scooping her up in my scathed arms, stomping barefoot through the marsh. I direct my path toward the marina because she’ll never make it into town. The hospital is not an option.

  I bound through the screen door, kicking my huge foot through the wooden panel that’s locked from the inside.

  “Gus!” I rush to the counter and shove everything to the floor using my elbows before gently placing her on top. “Gus! Get your ass down here!”

  That’s when I hear a commotion coming from upstairs as Gus squirrels his way down the rickety steps with a crowbar in his hand. “Who is it? Who’s there?” He scrubs at his yellowish eyes. “Kingston, is that you?”

  “Ruby! Gus, help her!”

  It takes him a second to fit together the pieces of the puzzle.

  “What the hell happened to her?” He gets to work collecting the necessary equipment to stitch up the wound. “You gotta get her to a hospital.”

  “She won’t make it,” I say in a feverish rush. I grab a pair of tourists, Baja shorts, snatching them off the hanger.

  “Aaggg,” she moans, squirming under his sight frame.

  “Hold her down,” he whistles. “Grab her.” He tugs his silver flask from his robe pocket, pouring it over the gashes, causing her to buck under my grasp. He pours the rest over the dull tools before getting in deep and pulling the thread extra tight.

  “She’s lost a lot of blood.” Gus clips the final knot.

  “I need her to be ok!” A heavy shudder ripples through my core. “Make her ok.” My voice is thin and shreddy.

  “Calm down, boy. Drink this.” He searches underneath the counter before planting a bottle of bourbon down in front of me.

  I fumble with the cap, and then I turn it upside down, guzzling the liquid and letting it burn deep in my belly.

  “She shouldn’t have been there,” I mumble under my breath.

  “What, boy?” Gus presses two fingers to Ruby’s limp wrist. I’m relieved that she’s passed smooth out form the incessant pain.

  “Tonight. Ruby wasn’t supposed to be there. It was a war zone. I left her safe at home with the kids. Why was she out?”

  His hands are busy at work, but the old man glances up at me. “She was gonna surprise you out on the water. She used one of the small, fishing boats and planned to meet you on your way back in. Wyatt knew all about it because he’s the one watching Rebel and Ethan for the night.”

  At least the kids are safe.

  I shake my rattled head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Calm down and help me now. We need to get her upstairs. She can’t make it to your house right now. I’m assuming this had to do with the pack and shifter business.”

  “It was the wolf pack. I don’t know which one did it, but chances are, they’re not breathing anymore.”

  Gus’s expression fades and his jaws hang loosely like his cheeks are falling. “That can’t be right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Son, this cut here isn’t from a wolf. No, this here’s been made by a bear claw.”

  Everything goes black.

  The overwhelming scent of Ruby’s blood splattered across my heaving chest causes vomit to bubble to the back of my dry throat, and my queasy stomach pitches hard.

  *

  I don’t wake up again for hours, but when I do, I’m not prepared to see her pale face lying next to me, and her eyes are closed. It makes my own breath die in my windpipe as I wait for her chest to rise and fall.

  It’s just a slight movement, but it’s there.

  My second action is to survey the space. It’s a wooden room with weathered, loose boards. The heat of the day seeps in through the gaps in the planks. Shelves are lined wit books and old, Avon bottles, each with less than a squirt of cologne left.

  The askew walls are slathered in black and white photographs, newspaper clippings, pelts handing from jagged nails, and jars filled with flowers and roots. />
  I’m at Gus’s place, and Ruby’s still unconscious.

  Ruby moans, and I skitter across the room. I don’t know what I’m scared of, other than causing her more pain. She’s so damn fragile and I had been so terrified of the pack attacking her, but it was me that she should have been scared of the whole time.

  My gut pitches.

  I crave to touch her, but I force myself to be extra gentle when I press my lips to her sweaty forehead.

  “Shit,” I say as I throw back the sticky sheet before bounding down the steps three at a time. “Gus!”

  I make an abrupt stop and snap my mouth shut when I spot the lone customer at the register.

  “Have a good day. Come back and see us.” Gus follows the woman carrying the sack of fresh, boiled peanuts, locking the door behind her and flipping the sign to closed.

  “Is she awake?” He asks.

  “No, but she’s burning up with fever.”

  The old man gathers up an armload of supplies.

  “Will this work?” I’m quick on his heels, but he simply shrugs. “How do you know how to do all this stuff?”

  “Years of living on the bayou, son.” He hobbles up the staircase with me as his shadow, and I’m still wearing nothing but the colorful shorts.

  I look like a Ken doll, but one with an epic beard.

  He feels her head before pressing an ear to her chest, listening as she wheezes air in and out of her lungs. “Humph,” is all he says as he breaks apart stems and petals adding a few dashes of liquid to the jar.

  “What?” I struggle for the one word.

  He muddles the concoction all together before squeezing it up in a plunger tube. “The fennel root mixed with some liquified burdock should zap that fever. It’s just her body trying to fight off infection.”

  “What’s the juice?” I eyeball the tiny, vile and the stench overpowers my bear nose.

  “Straight garlic.”

  “What will that do? She smells like a rotten pizza.”

  “It will help with the infection.” He cranes his head to look up at me. “Soak the gauze in the extra garlic and change out the dressing.”

  My eyes pop wide. “I don’t think I should touch her.”

  “Boy, you’re gonna have to get past this and take care of your mate.” He gets up and moves to the doorway. “By the way, I went ahead and called Wyatt. I didn’t give him all the details, but he’s agreed to keep the kids. I thought it was better that she heals her instead in front of them.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Just change out the old gauze,” he says before shuffling away.

  He’s angry with me.

  I wet the cloth just a little and peel it away from her puckered skin and it makes my heart literally ache when she cries out from the pain.

  I throw my hands up and back away, dropping the cotton on the bed.

  I’ll never forgive myself.

  Hot tears pool in my stinging eyes when I make my break through the cracked window, forcing myself to face forward, feet pounding, disappearing into the swamp.

  … COMING SOON