Big Bear Mountain - The Complete Series (21 page)

E
lle had learned a lot from Jarrad during their time
together. A lot about shifters and a lot about survival in the high mountain
forests. She was a fast study, too.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared. Especially
when they shrouded her head in a black cloth sack. She’d seen enough movies to
know that nothing good ever came from having a black sack pulled over your
head.

She tried to stay calm for her sake and the sake of
the cubs that she nurtured within her. For Jarrad’s sake, too. Her heart ached
at the thought of never seeing him again. Never having his large, protective
arms wrapped around her as she slept. Her throat tightened at the thought of
never kissing him again and tears welled in her eyes. No, that wasn’t going to
happen. Jarrad would never let that happen and she would do everything in her
power to help him. But what?

Bait. That’s all she was to them, live bait. They’d
only kept her alive to lure Jarrad and Spider into the trap, then they would
all be eliminated in retribution and to send a message to anyone else who might
dare cross them. She didn’t speak Armenian, but she’d worked for the bank that
laundered the cartel’s money for long enough to learn a thing or two about how
these guys operated.

Maybe escaping their clutches and giving away millions
of dollars of their illicit funds to charities wasn’t such a great idea. Now
they simply wanted revenge and there would be no negotiating this time. They
had nothing to bargain with. They’d given it all away.

Zip tied to the wooden chair, her options were
severely limited. Feet securely tied together. Each wrist was bound to an arm
of the old but sturdy chair. She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Adding insult to injury, her wooden stockade had been
carelessly repaired to hold its prisoner. Sharp nails protruded from the edge
of one arm of the chair. It pricked and gouged Elle’s wrist each time she tried
to wriggle some circulation into her hands.

That gave her an idea.

T
he gunfire above wasn’t sporadic and reckless, more
restrained and purposeful. That was a bad thing. Spider knew it meant they were
dealing with trained professionals, skilled in the art of war, making each
round of ammunition count.

“We have to get out of here. Now.” It wasn’t a
request. Spider grabbed Erin’s arm and hurled her toward the back of the
bunker.

Erin planted her feet firmly on the concrete floor,
refusing to comply.

“I’m not going anywhere, especially with you, until I
know what’s going on.”

Spider’s face hardened. His once cute dimples now
looked out of place on this battle toughened warrior. The dim light of the
bunker served only to add to the ferocity of his expression.

“We’re not the bad guys here. The ones shooting at my
friends up there,” he pointed to the ceiling, “they’re the bad guys and they’ll
waste you quicker than looking at you. We’re the ones they want, but they’ll
take you out all the same.”

Something in his tone compelled her to trust him. This
time, when he tugged her arm for her to follow, she trailed after him, feet
scrambling to keep up with the long legs of the former Navy pilot. She had no
choice. The shooting from above was sounding more urgent and they both knew it
would only be a matter of time before they were cornered and the underground
haven became their underground tomb.

S
tray rounds peppered the concrete floor at their heels
chasing them toward the darkness of the farthest corner of the bunker. Erin
briefly wondered how they had built such a place below the ground, but this was
no time for idle speculation. Bullets tore into the walls either side of them
hurling chunks of concrete in all directions as the shooters found their range
and their eyes adapted to the lighting. Time had run out.

Shouldering her to one side, Spider knocked Erin
toward a rack of Heckler & Koch MP7 machine pistols. Grabbing two of the
weapons from the rack, Spider threw one to Erin on the fly as they made their
way around the corner to a small hatch hidden behind an array of oil drums.

He only intended her to carry the piece as a backup
for when he needed to swap it out for his own weapon when it was empty.
Instead, she ejected the magazine, checked it was full, slammed it back home
with the heel of her palm, flipped off the safety and fired a couple of short,
accurate bursts at the nearby oil drums, spraying a fountain of oil over the
floor they had just crossed.

Nice job.
Spider spared a split second to appreciate the way she handled the gun
like a pro and her cunning. Her stock just went up another 10 points.

“Where’d you learn to handle a gun like that?” Spider
couldn’t help himself. He had to find out, his curiosity demanded it.

“I’m from Texas.” Erin shrugged it off as if that
explained everything.

Spider entered the cramped tunnel first and was poised
to slam the door shut after Erin entered when a spray of bullets pinged off the
steel frame of the door. Spinning on his heels, Spider threw himself behind
Erin, placing himself between her and the smoking gun barrels behind them,
effectively shielding her from the assault with his body while he wrapped his
arms protectively around her shoulders.

More bullets sparked off the edges of the door and the
door frame as the viscous oil slick caused the gunmen to lose traction,
spoiling their aim. Finally, Spider managed to pull the door closed but not
before a couple of rounds found their way through the narrow gap just before
the heavy steel door clanged shut.

S
pider turned to secure a heavy iron crossbar in place,
effectively securing the door against the intruders. As soon as he let go of
her, Erin felt a sense of longing, wanting his warm, secure touch to return.
She couldn’t admit it to herself, but she was afraid. Or maybe she just enjoyed
having him hold her so protectively.

This really isn’t the time for that kind nonsense
, she warned herself silently.

It was pitch black and the air was dank and stale in
the tiny stone walled vestibule. Spider flipped a switch and a small globe lit
up, revealing they were at the bottom of a vertical shaft. A rope ladder led to
a hatch some twenty feet above their heads.

Erin’s face must have shown her confusion at their
predicament.

“Emergency exit in case there’s a fire in the bunker,”
he answered her unasked question.

She nodded and smiled in appreciation of Spider’s
safety protocols. Then her smile disappeared as fast as it came. Her eyes grew
wide with concern.

Spider wanted her to smile again. She had the kind of
smile he could wake up next to every morning for the rest of his life.

“What’s the matter?” He put his hand on her shoulder,
unsure what he’d done to provoke such a reaction.

She shivered and writhed away from his touch.

His fingers trailed an ominous smear of blood across
her top as she pulled away.

Spider looked at his hand to see a stream of blood
dripping profusely from his fingertips.

S
uddenly they were breathing fresh air again as the
hatch above them opened, revealing a clear sky sprinkled with twinkling stars.
Fresh mountain air. The scent of pine trees. It was almost perfect. It might
have been the perfect romantic tableau but for the intermittent sounds of
gunfire and Spider’s hemorrhaging bullet wound.

“We need to get you to a hospital. You’ve been shot,”
Erin added unnecessarily.

No shit?
But Spider just grimaced as he hauled himself out onto the forest floor
before reaching down to help Erin through the narrow opening.

She snatched her hand away from his grasp. “I’m fine.
I’m not the one who’s been shot.” She didn’t need to be reminded of how good
his touch felt.

“It’s nothing. Right now, we have to find shelter.
It’s gonna get real cold and you’re not exactly dressed for sleeping under the
stars.” He glanced at her perky nipples protruding through her blouse,
highlighted by the glow of the moon.

Erin followed his gaze to her breasts and realized
what he was looking at before shooting him a stern look.
Typical guy. Shot.
Bleeding to death and he can still check out the nearest set of boobs
.

Spider’s neck began to prickle as he flushed crimson.
He hadn’t meant to stare. He hadn’t meant to get caught, either.
Damn
.

“There’s a rescue hut not far from here. If we can
make it there, we can at least make it through the night.”

“What about the others?” Erin looked concerned.

“Jack and Jarrad? Don’t worry about them. They’ll be
fine.”

She didn’t look convinced.

“They’ll look out for each other, don’t worry. Both of
them have been in tighter spots than this and come out of it without a scratch.
Let’s just concentrate on getting out of this mess ourselves.” He paused as he
turned to make his way to the rescue hut. “Bet you wish you’d stayed away from
here, now. Not much fun when the shooting starts, is it?”

“I can handle myself,” she asserted. She didn’t need a
man to look after her or protect her. She’d always looked out for herself.

It is kind of nice having someone care about you,
though and nobody’s ever taken a bullet for me before, either!

T
he rescue cabin wasn’t the Sound of Music style Alpine
chalet that Erin was expecting. It was a more rudimentary, functional hand
built shelter designed to save the lives of climbers and hikers who found
themselves snowed in or caught out by a flash storm. But it would at least be
warm. She hugged her shoulders against the bitter cold that had threatened to
freeze her to the core. The temperature had dropped as sharply as Spider said
it would. She just hadn’t realized that it was possible for the thermometer to
plummet like that. That was a high mountain survival lesson she’d not forget in
a hurry.

“First we need to get a fire started,” Spider
suggested as he fumbled with the frozen door latch.

“No, we need a medical kit so we can clean your wound
or you’re going to die from infection or shock before we can get you to a
hospital,” she countered.

Finally, he shouldered the door open and they entered
the dark cabin, grateful to be out of the cold wind that had started blowing
not long after they escaped from the bunker. Erin rubbed her arms and huffed
into her palms in a futile effort to shake off the bitter cold as she put her
gun down next to the door, just in case they had uninvited guests.

After some scratching and cussing, Spider managed to
strike a match which he used to light a large candle in the center of the small
one room cabin before using it to light some kindling in a small cast iron wood
stove.

Acrid, choking smoke roiled from the stove, enveloping
Spider as he tried to fan the flames to keep them alight. He closed the stove
door and with some tweaking of the air intake control, managed to keep the
stove alight and the cabin smoke free. They might just survive the night after
all.

“OK, now you’ve done your Boy Scout thing, let me take
a look at your wound.” Erin pointed to a small wooden stool next to the stove.

Spider looked at the stool, then back at her.

Maybe she was being a little optimistic. Someone
Spider’s size wasn’t going to sit on a puny stool like that. She needed another
plan.

“Okay then, lay down over there.” She indicated a
lumpy mattress on the floor against the wall. It didn’t look like a hygienic
hospital bed, but it was all they had.

“Where’s the emergency medical kit?” She looked around
the small room. There weren’t too many places it could be hidden.

Spider nodded toward a metal locker behind the door
through which they’d entered. He put his weapon down alongside the mattress,
within arm’s reach.

“Take your shirt off,” she instructed as she fossicked
around in the locker, extracting the pre-packaged medical kit and a small torch
she thought might be handy.

Then she turned around, she was ready to play Nurse
Erin. What she wasn’t ready for was what stood before her. He mouth dropped
somewhere south of New Mexico and her eyes widened like saucers.

“What’s the matter?” Spider asked anxiously, looking
animatedly for more wounds or bullet holes he hadn’t been aware of.

“Noth . . . nothing,” she stammered.

Oh my God!
She stood transfixed. Even the most basic of human
functions, like breathing, paused as she took in what she was seeing.

W
orms of warm blood seeped from the deep gashes in her
wrist. It hurt like hell but she persisted, twisting her hands, gouging the
protruding carpentry nails into her flesh. She consoled herself with the
thought that they felt fresh and sharp, not old and rusted. At least she’d
avoid the irony of dying from a tetanus infection before she was rescued.

And she knew she’d be rescued. Of that she had no
doubt. Jarrad would come. She felt it.

She knew it.

The thought of Jarrad brought back the dull ache
inside her chest. She fought it back, determined not to let her emotions turn
her into a sobbing mess.

Jarrad, where the hell are you?