Protecting His Mountain Bride (Bear Mountain Baby Daddies Book 2) Read online

  Jack examined the only other occupant of the Suburban. The man was unconscious and Raven didn’t even know his name to rouse him. Instead, he slapped him a few times on the cheek and shook him gently. They had to move eventually and the sooner he could get his high value cargo awake and alert, the better their chances of survival. Jack had never lost a critical package during one of his covert missions and he planned to maintain his exemplary record of on time and safe delivery.

  Extending the antenna on his satellite phone with one hand and slapping the supposedly important official or spy or whatever the hell he was, with his other hand, Jack punched in a number committed to memory. The call was connected almost immediately but there was nothing but a rhythmic thumping sound coming from the other end of the line.

  Reading out a set of coordinates displayed on the dash mounted GPS and a few cryptic commands that sounded like nothing more than meaningless chatter to those with the electronics surveillance capability to eavesdrop, he disconnected the call and waited. While rounds from the rooftop positioned enemy continued to pepper the stranded SUV with sporadic gunfire, Jack scanned the surrounding area for escape routes while he continued to wake his passenger. He needed him mobile and ready to run for it when the cavalry arrived.

  And a few seconds later, he heard the unmistakable thump-thump-thump as the big Russian Mi-28 attack helicopter approached. The huge armored beast, brought its menacing and extremely deadly 30mm underslung autocannons to bear on the ‘soft targets’ identified by the weapons officer and within seconds, after firing a few wild rounds at the bullet proof chopper, the rooftop gunman were bugging out.

  Not a single shot was fired by the imposing Mi-28 which NATO had codenamed ‘Havoc’. Its reputation preceded it and that’s what Jack counted on. He couldn’t afford to get into a firefight. The risk of his passenger catching a stray bullet was unacceptable.

  As he exited the cabin of the Suburban into the clearing smoke, he gave thumbs up the pilot of the hovering gunship who nodded curtly and continued to swing the massive beast on its axis to provide cover as Jack took off on foot, his compact but deadly H&K MP5 slung over one shoulder and the dazed passenger leaning on the other as he struggled to keep pace with his military escort.

  “I’m afraid the scan results are quite conclusive, Sergeant Raven. The concussion you sustained during your last mission has left you with what we call a TBI or Traumatic Brain Injury. It’s quite common among combatants who have been subjected to close proximity explosions, like IED’s, RPG’s and land mines.”

  Jack sat speechless as the doctor continued to glance at the scans that ended his career as a soldier. He’d hoped the bouts of depression, mood swings and the headaches would pass, given time. But, if anything, they got worse. They got so bad that they forced Jack to break one of his rules. He went to the base doctor. And so began a battery of tests, probes and scans. The end result, a medical discharge and unemployment for the first time in his life.

  For months, Jack did nothing but replay that last mission in his head, searching in vain for ways he could have done better. Trying over and over again to spot the trap he’d led them into. Every night he’d wake in a cold sweat, as the explosions tore into the unmarked Suburban, unsure if it was really a nightmare or if this time they’d succeeded in killing them. He knew he had to do something to break the cycle and have something else to think about. That’s when he broke another of his rules. He asked for help.

  The transition assistance package he’d been offered and initially rejected now seemed like a good idea. Perhaps a career in law enforcement would be a good match for his skill set and give him the command structure, discipline and the opportunity to protect others that the military had previously provided for him. And if Jack needed one thing, it was an opportunity to protect. That’s just what he did.

  Chapter 5

  Cassie wasn’t sure how she felt about her grandmothers passing. They hadn’t been that close, not since grandma had a falling out with her mom. That had been when she was still too young to understand why her mom was so upset with grandma and why it meant she couldn’t go and stay at grandmas anymore.

  That’s what she missed the most. Her time in grandma’s cabin, learning needle work, hearing stories from when her grandma was her age and grandma’s baking. She was always baking something. She still remembered the fresh scent of pine when she woke each morning to the crackle of the open fire and the sound of the crystal clear water that ran from the natural spring in grandma’s yard.

  When she cracked the window of her restored Oldsmobile Cutlass, the scent of the forest and the chill in the air brought the memories flooding back and tears welled in her eyes as the pain of regret weighed heavy in her heart. She regretted the precious years wasted because of some stupid argument. Her fingers found the silver key shaped pendant her grandmother had given her the last time they saw each other. Cassie had worn it around her neck ever since. She fondly remembered grandma smiling as she placed the pendant in Cassie’s palm and used her spotted, bony fingers to force her tiny hand closed around it.

  “Don’t ever lose this key,” her grandmother had said, in all seriousness. “One day, you’ll understand what it means, but for now, how about we keep it between us. Our little secret, okay?” The old lady gave a conspiratorial wink. Young Cassie nodded as she accepted the old lady’s gift, although she didn’t fully understand. All she knew was that she shouldn’t tell her mother.

  Cassie took her responsibility seriously and treasured the keepsake all these years, wearing it whenever she could and keeping it safe when she couldn’t. Not because it was of any real value, but if it was important to her grandmother, then it was important to her, too. Everyone knew that grandma wasn’t rich and had nothing that anyone would consider a treasure yet, somehow, that made the heirloom seem all the more precious.

  Nothing looked familiar as she continued up the mountain road. It had been too long since she had ventured to Bear Mountain. Much had changed. Law enforcement, for one thing. When she was growing up, there wasn’t need for a sheriff on the mountain and the State Troopers based in the valley were hardly ever called upon to settle disputes or breaches of the peace.

  With a smile, Cassie recalled the scary bedtime stories her grandmother would tell of strong, fearless mountain men who could handle any situation. They were the only law they needed on the mountain, she would say.

  “We look after our own up here,” she recalled her saying. And Cassie intended to maintain that tradition.

  She glanced down at the envelope from the lawyer containing a copy of the will, a letter she couldn’t bring herself to open at the time and an old fashioned iron key to the cabin lay on the passenger seat. Barely concealed by the large brown legal envelope was what she called her American Express. She never left home without her CZ 75 Shadow. With its steel frame and 17 round magazine, it wasn’t your typical ‘girl gun’. The dealer at a local gun show nearly wet his pants laughing when she asked to try one. He was convinced it was too much gun for her to handle.

  He changed his tune, though, when she set her sights on the silhouette target and double tapped two rounds grouped nice and tight in the center mass in rapid succession followed by a fast, smooth kill shot to the head without any hesitation. She earned some respect that day and he cut her a deal on the gun and a few tactical accessories that he thought might prove handy in her line of work.

  Her fascination with firearms, handguns in particular, began during her vacations at her grandmothers. She remembered seeing her custom made, pearl handled Colt .45 for the first time and watching the old lady handle it like a pro, shooting tin cans off a fence railing. Nobody was going to mess with Grandma, living alone in the woods. She even had a collection of early Colt revolvers that her grandfather had given her. She loved to show them off and would even fire them from time to time, loading the chambers with black powder and ramming home the lead ball like a modern day Annie Oakley.

  When they said ‘country
girls don’t retreat, they reload’, I think they were talking about grandma, Cassie thought fondly. With ache in her chest and tears threatening to burst from her eyes, she drove on toward the cabin she hadn’t seen in many years.

  Checking the GPS, she could see she wasn’t far away from the cabin. The turn off should be right around…a black Chevy truck spun its wheels in the dirt track as it shot out of a side road, cut in front of her, fishtailing as it careened down the mountain. Through the rear vision mirror, she followed its path as it raced into the distance.

  Then she realized that the truck had come from her turnoff. And the only thing on that stretch of road was her grandmother’s cabin.

  Chapter 6

  Jack wanted to run. Needed to run. Hard and fast to burn off the hormones that surged through his powerful body The raw sexual energy that the outlandish woman had somehow sparked within him had to be released or he felt like he’d burst with frustration. He ran through the forest like a man possessed. He’d always been a runner, despite his massive frame.

  This was how he coped with stress during the years he was enlisted. But now he felt more at home in the forest instead stinking hot, sandy, wind-blown deserts. Tall, hundred year old trees, pristine water from snow melt high up the mountain and the dark, earthy, organic smell that can only come from the forest floor. Jack love the mountain and although he wasn’t born there, he felt he might as well have been. He had a strong, unfathomable connection to the mountain.

  As he ran, Jacks thoughts turned to the woman who had taken his breath away earlier in the day. He’d hardly stopped thinking about her and he had no idea why. She was abrasive, prickly, sarcastic and plain rude. Yet he couldn’t help but be attracted to her. Perhaps he’d spent too much time in hostile places and hostility was all he really knew or understood. Maybe it was something else. He wanted her. That much was clear. He felt a stirring in his pants and tried to convince himself that it was probably just the testosterone talking. He was damaged. Broken. The doctors had told him that. He’d seen the damage the blast concussion had caused on the scans. There was no way he’d drag someone else down with him. That’s why he’d chosen this wilderness community to make his peace and live out his days playing sheriff and collecting his army pension.

  Or had the wilderness chosen him? One of the chopper pilots who had saved his ass on a mission a few years back recently told him about an opening for a sheriff on Bear Mountain. He’d nearly choked on his coffee he laughed so hard. Bear Mountain? Really? His chopper pilot buddy, ‘Spider’ aka Lieutenant Jim Webb was usually a man of few words, but on this particular occasion, lubricated with a couple beers, he really went to town and sang the praises of Bear Mountain. Spider took up flying rescue choppers up in the mountains after the Navy downsized him out of a job.

  “Trust me,” he’d said, “the place would really suit a guy like you.”

  If Jack hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn that Spider knew something about the mountain that he wasn’t telling.

  All Jack knew was that he was broken and couldn’t be fixed.

  Maybe he’d been a freak before, but being on the mountain had changed him, somehow. He felt like he was in his own environment. Here he was anything but a freak.

  Jack ran and ran until he was parched breathless and couldn’t run any further.

  Chapter 7

  After slamming the magazine home and racking the slide to chamber a round, Cassie cocked the hammer and flipped the safety off. She approached the unlatched and slightly open front door of the cabin ‘cocked and locked’. Condition One—not the safest gun carrying protocol, but sometimes being too safe can get you killed. Especially when you didn’t know who’s waiting for you on the other side of the door.

  She was in the middle of nowhere. Alone. No backup. The smooth, well-oiled 9mm was all that stood between her and whoever might still be in the cabin. Just because she saw the black truck speeding away didn’t mean they hadn’t left someone behind. Waiting for her.

  But why? That was the question that went through her mind. But that would have to wait. She needed to sweep the cabin and make sure it was clear. Something strange was going on and she had a bad sense about it. She was rarely wrong when it came to bad feelings.

  The steps creaked as she climbed them. So did the timbers on the porch as she walked toward the door. So much for the stealth approach. Keeping to the left of the doorway, Cassie approached, muzzle up and kicked the door open with her foot. She waited a beat then went in, gun first and swept the room.

  It was empty. A mess, but empty. Someone had done a thorough job of searching for something. Furniture was strewn around, bookshelves upturned and drawers emptied all over the floor. Everything in the kitchen had been trashed with sacks of flour emptied all over the floor and the contents of every cupboard thrown haphazardly as the unknown intruders searched every nook and cranny. The only thing left undisturbed was an incongruous fire extinguisher hanging askew from a mounting bracket near the stove.

  Approaching the bedroom, she performed the same routine and checked under the bed and inside the closet for intruders. There were none. The place had been ransacked but she was all alone. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what anyone would hope to find in a penniless old lady’s cabin in the woods. It made no sense.

  Ejecting the chambered round and lowering the hammer, she kept the gun in her hand. She wasn’t ready to holster it just yet. Spooked by the apparent burglary and trashing of the cabin, she felt vulnerable but was ready to favor safety over readiness to shoot. For now, anyway.

  The sound from the nearby tree line had her immediately regretting her ‘safety first’ approach. With a two handed grip, she went out the door, gun barrel raised, scanning for the source of the sound.

  She heard nothing but running water from the nearby spring.

  She waited.

  Then she heard it again. A slurping, sucking sound, coming from the spring. It sounded like an animal. A very big animal. It certainly didn’t sound human. She was sure of that, so all the more reason to approach the sound ‘gun up’.

  That’s when she saw him. At first she didn’t believe her eyes and it took a breath for her brain to process what she was seeing. A shirtless, well-muscled behemoth of a man was drinking from the water that flowed from her grandmother’s…no…her spring.

  Jarrad had already sensed her as she approached but he was thirsty and continued drinking until the woman stopped and gasped in shock, her gun aimed squarely at him. He realized that he was out of uniform and she clearly didn’t recognize him.

  They stared at each other. What once felt like a massive weapon trembled in her hands as she realized how ineffectual it might be against someone as well built as the trespasser. To take on a guy this big she’d need more than a 9mm and sensible shoes.

  Slowly, very…very slowly, Jarrad raised his hands and took a step backward, not wanting to antagonize or threaten the woman aiming the gun at its head.

  “It’s me, Jack Raven, Sheriff Raven,” Jack announced with his hands still raised.

  With her mouth agape she lowered her gun. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. Someone’s broken into the cabin and I was a little jumpy,” she explained.

  “Can I put my arms down, now.” He smiled at her and he thought that maybe, just maybe, a hint of a smile danced across her lips before her flinty demeanor took over.

  Chapter 8

  Her emerald eyes sparked fire. She might have been in shock, but she wasn’t exactly afraid and she was certainly ready to put up a fight. The gun had been aimed straight at him. Unwavering. She must have heard him splashing around in the water. He hadn’t even realized where he was.

  He sure knew now.

  He had no idea how skilled she was with handguns, but he decided not to test her shooting abilities. He saw no point in making an agitated woman even more frantic. There was something about her that stirred him. Drew him to her in a way that was both unnerving and completely out of the question.<
br />
  As he lowered his hand and identified himself he looked at her with fresh eyes. Gun lowered and looking a little afraid, he sensed a vulnerability she tried hard to mask. He’d never met a woman quite like her before.

  Jack had a few girlfriends in the past, but a career working covert operations and sometimes crossing borders into three or four different time zones in a single day didn’t bode well for romantic relationships. For Jack, spending an entire weekend on leave with the same girl constituted a long term relationship. It wasn’t that he wanted it to be that way or that he shunned commitment, but it was the life he had chosen and that’s how it was. He had chosen to serve and that was that. The mission always came first. Relationships didn’t help him achieve his objectives. It was that simple.

  Yet, he was drawn to the impossibly frustrating woman in a way he couldn’t fathom. It was as if he sensed that she could be a good long term relationship. A keeper, as they say. Something was going on that he didn’t understand and he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The image of her fearless eyes, the way she hid her fear from him, her near perfect combat stance and the way she held the gun on him in a strong two handed grip spoke volumes about the contradictory female. Then he thought back to the way she had treated him earlier that very day. Great, she’s perfect and unattainable.

  But something was off and later he’d be annoyed with himself for not realizing it sooner. There was a scent in the air that clawed at his subconscious but he couldn’t identify it. He pushed the niggling thought aside as he left the gun wielding woman and returned to his cabin.