Grizzly Love (17 page)

The situation, once dire, was already looking up, even if he was currently face down.

Hello, dirt. It’s been almost a day since we last met.

Of course, he didn’t kiss the ground purposely. The stock of a gun applied against the back of a head—three times because he did, after all, have a hard head—would do that to a guy.

Before a vote was taken to remove his man card for allowing himself to be captured, it should be noted he could have avoided the face plant, and easily too. Had he chosen to fight, he would have donkey kicked the bastard behind him then whipped around and taken the rifle from the asshole so he could beat him with it. However, Travis held off. Common sense—such a nasty term—prevailed.

Yet what choice did Travis have? Surrounded by at least six men, all armed to the teeth, didn’t exactly roar good odds.

We could take them. Glory and mayhem could be ours.

Rawr.

If he were alone, he would have fought. Heck, his bear was begging to let him go grizzly on their asses.

However, Travis didn’t just have himself to think of. Jess was with him. Sweet, vulnerable, naked Jess.

Naked!

Head angled to the side, he noted her kneeling on the ground beside him. A growl rumbled through him as he noted one too many gazes straying to her girly parts.
My girly parts.

For a moment he considered saying fuck the odds and bucking the asshole with his knee pressing against his spine as he reefed Travis’ arms back to manacle them. However, another planned formed when he realized their captors weren’t just going to kill them outright, even if Frederick wanted to.

“Shoot them,” the raven ordered.

“Those aren’t our orders,” another replied. “The sarge said the master wanted them alive.”

“The bear will cause trouble.”

Yeah, I will.
Finally, someone who took him seriously. What a shame the guy who recognized his awesomeness was on the bad guys’ side and not from Kodiak Point.

A snicker sounded. “Trouble for who? He’s handcuffed and not going anywhere. I think someone’s a little miffed that his wife prefers getting dick from someone else. Then again, can you blame her? Buddy’s fucking hung.”

Travis managed to grin and uttered a “thank you” before the kick in the ribs had him gasping for breath.

Stupid steel-toed boots. Just another reason why Frederick would die. Painfully. Perhaps disemboweled. Boris spoke highly of that method.

Feigning a meekness he certainly didn’t feel, Travis allowed them to haul his heavy carcass up. He bit his inner lip, lest he grin at their grumbled complaints of him weighing a ton.

His ma had fed him well over the years. Long gone were the days of him being the runt.

The urge to smile, though, was wiped when he saw Jess getting the same rough treatment. She stumbled at the force with which they propelled his delicate hawk to her feet. She received a cuff for her clumsiness.

Travis caught the fellow’s eye who dared strike a lady. “I’m going to make you scream soprano for that.”

“Says the dickhead handcuffed and naked.”

Scoff him? Travis smiled. Widely. Wickedly. All his teeth showing.

The fellow, some kind of dog mix, blanched.

Most excellent.

“I still think we should shoot him,” Frederick grumbled as he prodded Travis in the back toward a dangling rope illuminated by their spotlight.

So that was how they’d descended into the hidden valley. Travis just wished he’d heard them sooner. He could have picked them off as they descended.

Midnight snack,
his bear added with a smack of its lips.

Sometimes living with a wild animal in your head took some adjusting, especially when it came to their idea of a yummy meal. No matter how many
discussions
he and his beast had about it, Travis preferred his meat cooked, or at least singed on the outside, while his bear preferred it fresh. Sometimes too fresh. Shudder.

For a moment, Travis wondered if they’d unshackle his hands and order him to climb, but it seemed they didn’t trust him. Instead, the bottom end of the rope was harnessed around his body, and once Frederick gave the dangling nylon cord a tug, Travis’ feet left the ground.

Lots of boring stuff happened then. In a nutshell—pecans being his favorite— Travis, Jess, and the guys who’d located them made their way off the mountain. Most of them at any rate. The one who wouldn’t stop staring at Jess’ naked ass suffered an unfortunate tumble down the hillside. Who knew a simple hip check would send the lightweight flying?

After that, everyone kept their distance from Travis, and a weapon was trained on him at all times.

It was nice to be respected.

Arriving after an enforced march at a parked military-style truck, Travis wondered if it was too much to hope they would get taken to where the others were held captive. Once he rejoined his friends from Kodiak Point, they could join together to escape, kick some ass, and return home.

The large military truck they boarded was the flatbed kind with an arched canvas top over the back. Wooden benches ran the length of it.

To his relief, they weren’t expected to sit on the seats naked—splinters in the ass sucked to get removed. Robes were given to them, although Travis would have preferred to have his arms in the sleeves, but apparently they didn’t trust him enough to let his hands loose. They just tossed the garment over his head, creating an additional layer of difficulty by covering his manacled hands.

Awesome. He did so like a challenge.

Travis found himself shoved hard onto a bench with orders to sit while Jess got the seat across from him.

The rumble of the motor proved loud, their company less than exciting, but hey, they were alive. Alive and on their way to the secret headquarters where the rest of the gang awaited.

Anything could happen.

As to those who questioned his optimism?

Fuck off. He wouldn’t give up. Not as long as he had breath.

Ignoring their companions, he leaned forward and studied Jess. Pale with her eyes downcast and appearing weary, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you all right?”

The brown eyes he’d come to love met his glance. She shrugged. “If you mean am I hurt, then no. But as for all right? Given the situation, I’d say no.”

“You’re worried about this?” Travis made a show of glancing left to right, staring at each fellow in turn, enough that they fidgeted and shuffled their guns. He smiled and mouthed a few taunts—
I’ll be killing you soon. You look tasty.
And
Can’t wait to hear you scream—
before turning back to face her. “I wouldn’t worry. We’ll get out of this.”

“While I appreciate your lying to keep me calm, I’m not an idiot. Face it, short of a miracle, we’re going to die.”

“Eventually, but not today, nor tomorrow, or for many decades to come. I’ve got plans for you, Doc.”

When she didn’t reply, he prodded. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my plans?”

She sighed. “Okay, Mr. Ray of Bloody Sunshine, what are your plans?”

“Well, after I kill these assholes, then free us both and our friends—”

“Shouldn’t you free yourself first to kill them?” she interrupted.

“And make it too easy on myself?” He feigned complete shock and was gratified to hear her laugh.

“Okay, so you’re going to kill these guys”—she shot their guards an amused look—“free us and our friends, then what?”

“Well, I thought I’d let Layla and Brody get a shot at the Naga, seeing as how they’ve got the biggest vendetta against him.”

“Just don’t let Boris near him. I heard him mention to Gene that Jan gave him some tips on cooking snake over an open fire.”

The cannibalistic remark saw their guards shuffling uncomfortably. Travis exacerbated it with a grin. “Pity Ma’s not here. She’s got a kickass recipe for snake stew.”

“I’m more worried about the ones she’s got for stuffing a bird,” Jess muttered.

“The only stuffing you have to worry about is the grizzly kind.” Corny, and his wink probably unneeded, but the blush on her cheeks totally made the snickers worth it.

Optimism aside, Travis held a smidgen of doubt. Just a bit. They were, after all, heading into unknown territory. While he preferred to assume his friends were alive, if imprisoned, he wasn’t naïve enough to think that everything would turn out well. The situation was dire, but when the chance arose, he’d do his best.

Of course his best would work better if once they arrived they didn’t place him in a silver cage. Worse, they didn’t put Jess in with him.

But before he began to bellow about the less than adequate accommodations, he should perhaps note they arrived much too quickly at their destination. The fact no one blindfolded them or made any attempt to mask their location didn’t bode well. In the movies and on television, that usually meant the hostages would end up dead.

Then again, given they’d arrived at a rocky mountain that looked like thousands of other rocky mountains—dirt, rock, more dirt, more rock—perhaps they weren’t truly worried about someone escaping and leading others back to their secret hideout.

As accommodations went, he’d have to complain to management. “Hey, how come this cell only has a hole in the ground? You can’t seriously expect me to use that to do my business?” he hollered after his jailor. The grizzly fellow ignored his request for a proper room and amenities, wandering away, leaving him without a word but an eloquent middle finger salute.

“See if I leave you a tip,” Travis complained.

“I knew he couldn’t stay out of trouble,” exclaimed Boris, who resided in a cell a few doors up from his.

“Boris, how’s the rack hanging?” Travis chirped, happy to see his best bud alive and well.

“And there goes another hundred bucks,” Gene grumbled from another.

“Is everyone here?” Travis asked, doing his best to peek around without touching the silver-coated bars.

“Everyone but Layla. They’re holding her somewhere else,” Brody growled. “Boris, how much longer?”

“Longer for what?”

“If my internal clock is ticking right, then less than an hour,” Boris announced. “Give or take depending on desert traffic.”

Ever get the feeling you were out of the loop? “Anyone care to clue me in?”

“You’ll see,” was Brody’s enigmatic reply. “While we wait, why not tell us what happened to you and the doc?”

As Travis and Jess—who had the cell on the other side of Gene—filled them in—minus certain intimate details—he got the story of their own capture which was, admittedly, less exciting.

They got tranquilized and awoke in their cells. They’d yet to see the scales of their captor, although the master sergeant had apparently paid a visit to taunt them.

“I still can’t believe he turned traitor like that,” Gene muttered.

“Says the guy who had a vendetta against us there for a while.”

“Yeah, but I never actually caused permanent harm. Just fucked with you, mostly. What he did, leading his own men into traps and having them killed?” Travis could picture the big polar shaking his head. “That’s just fucking wrong.”

“He’ll pay for it,” Boris stated.

And Travis seconded it. “We will kick his ass.”

“As soon as we get out of these fucking cages. Which is in…” Brody paused.

“Less than half an hour. Give or take.”

Half an hour?

But I want to play now.
A grizzly bear whining, even if in his head, wasn’t pretty.

“Do we have to wait?” Travis itched to get going. The quicker they wrapped things up here, the faster he and the doc could get busy doing more pleasurable things. Naked things.

Rawr.

“Unless you have a way to bust out of these cages, which I might add are reinforced steel with a silver coating, then yeah, we have to wait.”

“Is that all?”

“Is that all?” Boris snorted. “Says the cub whose hands are still tethered under his robe. At least I hope that’s why they’re hidden. You better not be doing anything funky under there.”

“Funky? It’s called masturbating.”

Boris groaned. “Don’t use that word. You know I hate that word. Real men say whacking off.”

“Beat the meat.”

“Choke the chicken.” That one came from Jess, who joined the game with a snicker.

“Spank the monkey.”

“Jacking off.”

“Strangle the one-eyed snake.”

“Buck the slobbering donkey.”

Silence met Travis’ contribution.

“What? It’s a valid expression,” he defended.

“That’s just gross,” Gene replied. “And how did we get so off topic?”

“Because you’re guys, and everything always comes back to sex,” was Jess’ dry retort.

“Well, for your information, while my hands are busy under this robe, it isn’t because I’m self-pleasuring. Just getting rid of some unwanted jewelry.”

With some straining, contorting, and a bit of scraped skin, Travis shed the handcuffs and tossed them—with a triumphant grin of course—through the bars so they clanged on the floor.

“How the fuck did you do that?” Boris exclaimed. “That’s not something I taught you.”

A roll of his shoulders probably wasn’t seen by his buds, but they could hear the nonchalance in Travis’ tone as he admitted, “You don’t get tied up as much as I do over the years and not learn a few escape tricks.” He also spent weeks one summer studying the magician greats, especially their tricks on how to escape handcuffs and straitjackets. He’d picked up some cool tricks on the way. “When they placed the cuffs on me, I made sure to thicken my wrists.”

“You pulled on your shifting ability?” Brody inquired, peering through his bars, yet careful not to touch the silver coating.

“More or less. It’s something I’ve practiced. I can’t do it for long, but when it comes to cuffs, you only need to hold it for as long as they’re clamping them on. This left them looser than recommended. Then it’s just a matter of contorting the hand”—also known as dislocating his thumb which he’d done numerous times over the years, mostly accidentally—“and slipping free.”

“Hot damn. Maybe I won’t lose that hundred bucks after all,” Gene said with a laugh. “I told you that you all don’t give the cub enough credit.”

Coming from the deadly polar bear, that was high praise indeed. Travis swelled in pride.