What the Cat Dragged in (Sanctuary Book 2)

by BA Tortuga

  Fuzzy! The thought was loud, happy—no, joyous. You here? I’m thinking about sneaking her out all wrapped up like a mummy.

  No. Nothing suspicious. I’m hoping they have no idea you’re here. What cabin?

  The one with the red door.

  On it. He had to pass the trailers, and Brock wrinkled his nose. Lord. Those poor she-bears were in a world of hurt in their own mess. Assholes needed killing, but he would try to wait for Darius’s crew.

  Brock pulled around back to park, just in case. He grabbed the bags as he hopped out. Connor would need clothes to deal with the universe at large, or the universe would need Connor dressed, at least.

  He slipped around the side of the cabin, trying for casual rather than furtive. Nothing that would draw attention. He had a secret weapon in his bag too—scented soap for all. They’d rub it on their clothes to buy some time if bear man Greg showed.

  “Hey, you.” Connor ushered him in, peeking out at the semis. “Six cages. Eight bears. All female. Good-sized padlocks. Also, keys.”

  Connor dangled a keychain on one finger.

  “You were supposed to lie low.” He grabbed Connor as soon as the door shut, dragging him close for a kiss that liked to burn them to the ground.

  Connor took it—reveled in it more than a little, he thought—and demanded more.

  “Um.”

  He heard the small voice but had to ignore it for another few moments, at least. Then he let Connor go. I will tear your ass up later.

  He turned to the young lady watching them and smiled. “Hi. Brock.”

  That was a handsome damned woman—tanned and stacked to the ceiling with a latent power that screamed that she could rip your nuts off with her teeth. Brock liked her on sight. “Hey, Eve. Pleased to meet you.”

  They shook hands. “I called your brother. He wants us to meet him in Denver. Now—” He held up a hand. “—I also told him we’d call. So what would you like to do?”

  “Connor swore he’d take me to Nevada. I—you don’t understand.”

  “Apparently there’s some issues with Stinky Bear being another type of bear, not a local breed. She says it’s a thing.”

  “Okay.” Brock nodded easily, not wanting her any more upset than she was. “Fish and Game is sending a team for the lady bears out there. They swear they’ll release with no delay.”

  “That’s good, right? Because, I tell you what, Fuzzy, my heart’s saying we need to get moving west.” Connor’s eyes were serious as a heart attack. Something’s coming. Something bad, and I’m not wanting to be here for it.

  Shit. Brock was through questioning Connor’s instincts, especially when they coincided with his. “There’s food in the bag if anyone is hungry. I got a bit of camouflage for us all too. Bad tourist clothes and some stinky soap to rub on us for scent confusion.” It was the best he could do on such short notice.

  “I’m sorry for the trouble. I just….”

  “Stop. We’re here to help. We’ll take you to the pack, but you should at least let your family know you’re safe.” That way no pissed-off bear brothers would be hunting her ass.

  “I will. I swear. I mean, it’s bad enough I’m pregnant without a mate, but this—a big male might kill my babies because they’re half Asiatic bear.”

  Brock hated that idea. A lot.

  “No one’s going to….” Connor’s head tilted, eyes going wide. “Get dressed, y’all.”

  Brock nodded sharply and barked when Eve didn’t move. “Now.” He stripped off and tugged on easy sweats, a T-shirt, and a hoodie that said Winter Park.

  Connor dressed in a flash, the worry coming out in a low steady purr. He knows something’s up. The truck, maybe? Or just her. I don’t know. Maybe he can hear the babies….

  We have to get moving before Fish and Game comes, or it will be a bloodbath. We have to draw Greg away. They would keep Eve safe, but they had eight bears out there to save too. We head west.

  Right on. Connor grabbed the soap and started rubbing. “Evie, we’re going to do it quick. Brock is going to carry the bags. I’m going to run with you. You’re going in the front passenger. I’ll slip in behind you. We’re going to move as fast and quiet as we can. No eye contact. No stopping for anything, deal?”

  God, he loved Connor so fucking much.

  “Got it.” She put on the sweats and nodded sharply, her chin firmed right up, proving she was a territorial leader’s sister.

  Brock swept the cabin for anything they might leave behind that would give Greg a head’s up. Then he gathered the bags. “Ready?”

  “You get her tea bags?” Connor grinned at Eve. “I know you love that stuff. You said so.”

  “I did. Cookies too.”

  “You guys rock.” Eve pulled on a floppy fisherman’s hat emblazoned with Fraser. She looked about twelve now. Well, a grown-up twelve, maybe.

  Connor gave him a thumbs-up. Time to go.

  “All right.” Brock checked the window, and there was another truck there, one with California plates, a big Chevy. Okay. It looked empty, and he didn’t see anybody out there. Maybe they were having a powwow in one of the cabins.

  He wasn’t banking on that, but he could hope, right?

  Hell, maybe Greg was at the office asking about Eve. Either way they had a window of seconds.

  “Time to hasta la pasta, mamacita.” Connor grinned at Eve, eyebrows gesticulating wildly. “Let’s get you in ye olde truck.”

  “Just try to keep up.”

  Brock took point, hoping no one had discovered the truck. There were no back windows in the cabin, which worked both for and against them.

  He didn’t wait, because Connor had this, and he had to get the bags in the truck, get the fucking thing started.

  Connor wasn’t quiet; the soft whistle was constant, distracting, but not nervous. Just a dude, doing his thing. Wrapped in heavy sweats and that ridiculous hat as she was, it was tough to tell what gender Eve represented, and she moved with ease, slipping into the truck as soon as Brock had it unlocked. He stowed the bags, and Connor pushed into the backseat.

  “Ta-da. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Connor had the right idea. Brock pulled out, nice and easy, keeping it low-key, at least until they cleared the cabins and were out of sight of the semis. They were just a family, heading back home before the weather got any worse. In fact, that was the thought Brock held in his mind, pushing it into the universe.

  “Oh, hello, friend truck! I’ve missed you. You’re still a wreck and sadly mistreated with stuff, but you run like a top.”

  Brock snorted. “Not a wreck! I know where everything is.” Because of the weather, he decided to go State Highway 40 back down to I-70 instead of over through Kremmling. They’d burn up the road into Utah then. He breathed easier when they hit the state road with no interruptions, and even better when they passed an army of Fish and Game vehicles.

  “What if they’re gone when the guys show up?” Eve asked, and Connor snorted.

  “Honey, those semis aren’t going anywhere.”

  “No? What did you do besides steal the keys, Ragbone?”

  “I may have done a little Sound of Music sisterhood of fucking with engines while I was stealing the keys. Maybe. My memory is foggy.”

  “Uh-huh.” Brock actually laughed, his tension easing some. “We should all have a cookie.”

  “I could totally have a cookie. I may cry too.” Poor little gal.

  “Here.” Connor dug out cookies, adding the peanut butter sandwich ones Brock had bought at the weird tourist emporium place. “Cookies help everything.”

  One hand, cold but familiar as hell, landed on the nape of Brock’s neck, fingers digging in. God, he wanted Connor with a sudden, fierce need. He had to wait. No getting distracted. But he wanted.

  Connor massaged, easing knots that Brock didn’t even know he had.

  “That’s good, babe. Don’t stop.”

  “You two are so cute,” Eve said. “For real.”<
br />
  “It’s pretty new, this thing we have,” he admitted. “And we’ve been apart.”

  “It’s clear you’re totally into each other.” She gave him a misty smile.

  “Totally. Your Bear Charming will show.”

  Evie blinked back at Connor. “Bear Charming?”

  “Prince Bear?”

  “I like Bear Charming,” Brock said. “Gives a certain image.”

  “I’ll settle for Bear Sensible. Or Reliable.”

  “All-around Good Guy Bear,” Connor suggested.

  “Yes!” Eve fist pumped. “We have a winner!”

  Brock started cackling, the sheer relief of being on the road with his mate, with the one they were looking for, damn near overwhelming.

  Connor and Eve laughed right along with him, and Brock began to believe it would all be all right. At least for now.

  Assuming he could get them to Nevada.

  22

  They stopped for gas, pee breaks, and the periodic hamburger, but that was it. He’d called to warn Sam they were coming. Brock had called the Fish and Game guy, and Evie had called her brothers.

  Connor still wasn’t sure if he was the hero or the villain right now in the bear-shifting community at large, but he knew he was on the good-guy side with Eve.

  She was a neat kid. Smart as a whip. Just very young. She would rule a clan someday. Clan. Cave bears. Heh.

  “What’s funny, Ragbone?”

  “Nothing, mate. Just thinking. You about ready to switch off again?”

  The weather had been swinging steadily from snow to freezing rain to snow the whole way, and they were crawling. Up in the high areas, he could understand it, but this was freakish down along I-70 and through parts of Utah.

  “You mind, babe?” Brock was drooping. All that adrenaline.

  “No. No, I’m fresh. Stop at the next gas station. Or the next pull-off, I guess. Man, this is desolate out here.”

  There were no damn lights, not at all.

  “Yeah. Pretty damned harsh.” Brock grinned in the mirror. “Hard on the eyes.”

  “You know it.” He looked back, and they weren’t completely alone, but it was close. “I can’t believe this weather.”

  “Maybe it’s trying to keep us hidden,” Brock suggested.

  Connor had to laugh. His stubborn, nonbeliever mate? Talking magical weather?

  “Lemme find a good spot. There’s a ranch road exit up ahead,” Brock went on, glancing at Eve, who slept hard.

  “She’s out for the count. I like her.”

  “Ragbone, no offense, but have you ever met anyone you didn’t like?”

  “I’ve never shot a single person I liked.”

  “Well, how many people have you shot? I’ll tell, if you will.” Brock did love his weird little twenty question games.

  “Hrm. Well, when we say shot, are we including shot at and not hit, and did they have to die?”

  “I’ll go with shot at and hit, babe. I’m kinda boring if they had to die.”

  “Excellent. Let me count….”

  “You have to think about it?”

  “A little bit, yeah.” Those lights behind them were coming fast. Connor glanced over his shoulder, opening his mouth to mention it to Brock, when the lights flared to bright, the big truck back there lunging forward at their rear bumper.

  “Fuck!” His back slammed against the front seat. “That was personal!”

  “Shit.” Brock’s growl was low. Angry. “The weapons locked in the toolbox?” Brock hit the gas, pushing it so the asshole behind them couldn’t ram them again.

  “What’s going on?” Eve asked, her voice rising.

  “I have my piece.” He’d had a worry. “Don’t stress it, Lady Bear. We get run off the road, you hold it together.”

  “I will. Can I have a pack or a pillow or something?”

  “Good idea. The one with the clothes, Connor.”

  “Got it.” She could pad her poor baby belly if she had to.

  “Hold on. I’m gonna have to do some creative driving,” Brock said through gritted teeth.

  Connor spent the precious seconds before the next volley of steel meeting steel making sure Evie was padded. Someone was determined to get them off the road. No one had to guess who.

  I have to get off the highway before he kills us, Ragbone. You ready for that ranch exit?

  I’m ready. I’ll lay down fire to make sure you two get away from the truck? It was the most logical move he could come up with, but he was willing to, quickly, discuss alternatives.

  Brock swerved, and the vehicle behind them only got in a glancing blow. They skidded a little, the road so damned slick. I hate that idea.

  Okay. I can try and just shoot Mr. Stinky from here, but I can’t see shit. That whole crazy weather thing was a pain in the butt.

  You’d never hit him. No laying down cover fire until you’re out of the truck with it between you and him, in case he rams you.

  Well, on the bad side, that meant he was on his own once they stopped. On the good side, Brock was trusting him to be a full partner here.

  “Guys? What’s the plan?” Evie sounded near tears.

  “Get you out of this truck and hiding while I call the police. I bet he doesn’t want to go to jail. The full moon will be a challenge.” Brock actually sounded tickled.

  “Hiding where?”

  “If nothing else, there’s a ranch up the road. I’m about to take this exit, so hold on to your shit.” Brock yanked the wheel to the right, hitting the thirty-five mph exit at warp speed.

  “You follow Brock. No question. He can protect you, and I got this.”

  “You’re half his size!”

  “I am small but mighty.”

  “He’s tough, honey.” Brock fought the truck, the road, and physics, and damned if he didn’t win. He crossed over the bridge and headed for the ranch house they saw in the distance.

  “I’m a stud.”

  The important thing was to get Eve safe, get the babies away from their sperm donor.

  The bastard had no right to them. Not when he was capturing animals and selling or killing them. No way.

  The Greg truck managed to follow them, running off on the shoulder before squealing back onto the road to run up on them.

  “He’s fast.” Fucker.

  “I’ll just….” Eve waved her hands, hysteria written all over her.

  “Don’t,” Connor snapped. “You don’t get to be all self-sacrificial when you’re carrying those babies. You get your momma bear on.”

  Eve growled, the sound all bear, so much deeper than a wolf or a bobcat. “You better be ready to run,” she told Brock. “He might bear out.”

  Brock chuckled. “Good girl. Gonna make the big grandstand, brake-squealing stop.” Brock shoved the wheel to the right, where an open pasture lay. The fence was no match for the big truck, and they crashed through before Brock took them into a controlled—mostly—skid.

  Everybody exited the driver’s side, and Brock and Evie started moving immediately while Connor played the distraction card, slamming his hand down on the horn. If anyone was in that house, they’d hear him.

  Even if they came a’runnin’ with a shotgun, thinking they were drunk teenagers, that would work to their advantage.

  A quick glance told him Brock was keeping Eve in front of him in case Greg began shooting. After that, he had no time to look, because Greg was driving that big duallie right at him.

  He aimed right for the driver’s side and got off three rounds in quick succession, nodding as the truck swerved off course. That gave him time to slide in another clip and grab a sawed-off shotgun out of the toolbox.

  Greg stopped about ten feet away and to the left, the lights of the truck blinding, the big engine revving over and over. Too bad Connor wasn’t scared of a V8.

  He’d seen both Maximum Overdrive and Christine multiple times. Hell, Pennywise from It was scarier than Greg.

  A shot rang out that he didn’t fi
re, and the muzzle flash came from the driver’s side of the truck.

  “Oh, I do not think so, asshole.” He liked being shot at considerably less than advertised, and he wasn’t sure it was all that well-advertised to begin with.

  He squeezed off a round, because he wanted to enter the dialogue here, letting Greg know he had way better vision in general, and night vision in particular.

  Jesus, Greg was doing that half-shifted thing, which Connor had to admit was impressive. The guy was large and in charge, and Connor was getting a bit worried that this standoff was about to go south.

  Especially when the big guy charged, hitting the side of Brock’s pickup like a stinky runaway freight train.

  Choo choo fucking choo.

  23

  Brock ran as fast as two legs carried him. Eve didn’t shift, and fuck, she must have been a track runner in school, because she was booking it toward the ranch. He didn’t have the time or the signal to call 911, so he simply hoped to God someone at the ranch would act as the cavalry.

  The roar of an ATV answered that thought maybe three seconds later, the light on the front of the vehicle cutting the night.

  He put on a burst of speed, wanting to be in front of Eve if the guy shot first and asked questions later.

  “Help! We need help! Someone’s shooting up my truck up there!”

  The ATV squealed to a stop, water spraying in a wave, bright gold eyes shining in the blackness. “What the fuck?”

  “Please. I’m pregnant. He has a gun.” Eve exposed her belly. “Please.”

  “Well, fuck me raw. Come on.”

  “You go with him, Eve. I have to go back to Connor!” Brock had a gut feeling this guy would be a white hat. Something about those eyes. Eve was safe with him.

  “You have a firearm, pup?”

  “Not handy. They were all in the truck.” He scented the air. Wet feathers? Owl? Eagle, maybe.

  “Here. I’ll be back quicker than you can imagine.” The guy tossed Brock a rifle. “Don’t think about shooting me in the back. I will tear you limb from limb.”

  “I believe you.” He turned and ran, knowing Eve would have a warm, dry place to wait out the battle.