His father and Tom had come and had brought two of his mother’s cousins and four of their teenage sons. Tom handed his binoculars to his younger cousin Roman, and gestured him up a tree to spy on the Russians. “Tell us,” he instructed the younger man, “When they have lost their weapons.”
The other men all nodded. No one mentioned that this risked the men drowning. Jack knew he was ready to take a bullet for Hannah, but not if he didn’t have to. Roman took Tom’s binoculars and vanished silently into the forest. In the distance, the Russians began screaming. Yury and Mikhail, who had come to America straight from a Russian gulag, smiled terribly.
“Where’s Mom,” Jack asked in his flat combat voice.
“Down cellar with Uncle Vanya and Klara at the big house. All the women and kids are below grade. Stephan and Cosmo are standing guard at the office. Sam is with Lucy and Millie and the kids.” Tom reported. “Yury’s family are all at his place.”
“Who are these jokers?” demanded Edward Enright. “And what do they want?”
“Russians from Leskov’s crew,” Jack said. “As for what they want.” He shrugged. “Me dead? A lead on Leskov? Your guess is as good as mine.”
“They came armed on our land,” said Ed. Gone was the genial host and indulgent Grandpa. “Trespass is a deadly sin in these parts.” The others nodded.
“Uncle Ed,” said Gregory softly. “Do we get to kill them?”
Ed clapped the gangling youth on his shoulder and shook his head. “That is what they deserve. But it would not be wise. We need to interrogate them before we decide what to do.” He turned to Jack. “Where is Hannah?”
“Up the oak, above the tree house. I have to go get her.”
“We’ll pull them out and bring them here.” Ed said. “I think Yury and Mikhail should ask them a few questions. The rest of you can shift, fan out and back track them. To see where they came from and if they have companions. Report here to me.
“Greg, I want you to watch Jack’s back.”
“I think if we leave them, we won’t have to decide what to do with them,” Roman said as he slipped back to the group. “They’re up to here. He pointed to his biceps. “ Only one arm each. They lost their rifles trying to use them to get leverage.”
“Go get your Hannah,” said Uncle Yury cheerfully, showing all his yellow teeth. “We can deal with these bandits.”
Jack set off as quickly as he could back to the tree house. Twilight was falling and he didn’t want to have to wrangle Hannah down the tree in full dark if he didn’t have to. And when night came these woods would be dark. He wasn’t sure how happy her bear would be in the forest then.
She was where he had left her. She had draped the blanket so that her face and arms were fully concealed. She was a dark blob amongst the leaves. She flung the blanket aside when he called up to her.
“Stay put, sweetheart, I’ll come up.” He swarmed up the tree and took the blanket and rifle.
“Did you catch them?” she asked.
“More or less. They’re stuck in the slough. The others are pulling them out. Let’s get you home. Wait here until I’m on the platform, then come down.” His bear was telling him the immediate danger was past, but there was always the possibility that Dobronravov and Alyokin had not been alone.
He handed Hannah the penlight from his pocket. “Keep it on the ground in front of you,” he instructed her. He handed her the cooler and held his rifle ready for use. “Walk before me, I’ll cover your back.”
Hannah looked startled but she didn’t argue, she just aimed the narrow beam at the ground looking for the notches he had shown her that morning. He could barely hear the bear who was shadowing them. Gregory’s skills were improving. But Jack still stayed on high alert. He needed to know Hannah was safely down stowed before he could relax his vigilance.
Hannah set a brisk pace for a city girl. His little bear was full of surprises. I’m better with a crossbow, indeed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HANNAH FELT AS IF she had fallen down a rabbit hole and wound up in some alternative universe. Jack’s uncles Yury and Mikhail were drinking vodka with Jack and his father and arguing fiercely as they wolfed down Katrina’s goulash. All four men were slightly grubby except for their faces and hands. Their hair was stiff with dried sweat and their clothes streaked with dried mud.
“You ask me,” said Mikhail for the twentieth time, “We should’ve put them back in the slough. They come on our land with guns to shoot our children.”
“Is too late, Misha,” Yury told him sadly as he refilled their glasses. “Already, Jack’s friends take them away.” Yury drank and belched politely. “Is good supper,” he told Katrina with a little bow.
Hannah already knew that Jack had arranged for some unnamed security agency to deal with the Russians. He was sitting looking big and impassive and listening appreciatively as Yury and Mikhail belatedly thought up methods for dealing with their trespassers. He winked at her.
“The EMS had to take them away to receive medical attention for bilateral periorbital ecchymoses and hypothermia,” Jack said piously. He looked accusingly at his uncles. “Someone seemed to have blacked their eyes and then thrown cold water on them.”
Yury hit his chest proudly. “I save from bog,” he said. “I wash. Maybe we a little bit rough with those boys.” He grinned.
Katrina signaled Hannah to get up. “You are tired,” she informed her. “These men will talk until dawn. You go to bed.” She gave the younger woman a little push toward the staircase.
Hannah was glad to go. After spending three hours in what Katrina called her root cellar, but was clearly some sort of bunker, she had been growing increasingly worried. Not that her companions shared her anxiety. The four of them sat around a scruffy folding table playing poker. Periodically Katrina opened another jar of herring or cherries from her shelves and Vanya poured more shots of vodka. Klara cut bread from a giant oval of rye. Hannah had been shown the bathroom in the corner, and handed a bottle of water on her return.
If it had not been for the fact that Vanya had greeted her and Jack with a pistol in his hand, she might have thought that this was some sort of poker party. Katrina dealt the cards briskly, cheerfully accused Vanya of cheating and forbade him to play for money. Klara lost her pile of matchsticks to Hannah and then won them all back in a series of bluffs unexpected in a rosy cheeked, white haired, flowered-aproned babushka.
The outside world might have vanished, until the door cracked and Ed spoke. “All clear.”
Even then, Vanya had wanted to finish playing the hand he had dealt and Katrina and Klara had behaved as if that were the most normal thing. Supper with the uncles had been too much information. It was past time for bed.
She was wrung out emotionally she decided as she was braiding her wet hair. This had to have been the longest day of her life. Jack had asked her to marry him and she was pretty sure he hadn’t accepted her refusal. Or had he? They had picnicked and she had been sure the strawberries were a prelude to seduction. Only he had just fallen asleep on her lap.
Of course, the armed intruders had put a crimp in whatever plans Jack had had. She had spent ages perched in the oak watching and worrying before Jack came for her. He hadn’t bothered to explain--just escorted her home. Herded her really. She had felt his alertness as a living thing hurrying her along. She knew that he was primarily concerned for her safety even though he didn’t speak or look at her. Just as she knew the bear padding beside them was one of his cousins. Was this her inner bear speaking?
One thing had been made clear to her today. She loved her mate. Waiting for the sound of his death at the hands of those hunters had been excruciating. She didn’t doubt that she had been in peril. From the things Yury and Mikhail had said, and the things Jack had not, she was sure those men would have killed her or anyone else that stood between them and Jack. But at the same time she had felt safe, confident that Jack would protect her. Which was some crazy logic.
W
hat would she have done if he had died today? How would she have felt? It was time to admit that she had forgiven him days ago and had merely been holding out for roses and hearts. She was always sensible and it was time to be sensible. She opened the drawers of the little brown dresser and began folding her clothes into her suitcase.
Jack was kissing his mother goodnight when she came down the stairs with her suitcase in her hand. He looked up furious. “Where are you going?” he demanded.
“Home. Are you done? Goodnight, Ed, Uncle Yury, Uncle Mikhail. Goodnight, Katrina.” Katrina kissed her on both cheeks.
“Huh.” Jack took the case out of her hand. “We’ll have to walk, I left the car at my place.”
He didn’t know why she had come downstairs. He didn’t know why she was walking beside him in the cool spring air with the full moon shining down on them. It didn’t matter. She was coming home with him. It was just too bad he had been matching those old Ukrainian topers shot for shot. He was drunk. Well, shoot and damn.
“I’ll need a shower,” he said as they went up the stairs to the sleeping loft. He didn’t even turn on the light because the moon was shining through the sliders.
Hannah flicked the switch and then stared at the room. The austere red and grey blanket had been replaced with a puffy down comforter in a cover designed to look like a wedding ring quilt. Gold and white cushions were propped in front of his plain white pillows. Gold and white ribbons dripped from the log headboard. Red roses were massed in a tin jug that stood on a milking stool beside the window.
Soft caramel colored rugs occupied the space on either side of the bed. There were golden California shutters on either side of the windows. The TV was gone and the Ethan Allen dresser she had admired online with Katrina stood against the wall it had occupied. She opened the top drawer. Empty. She bit her lip. He had done this to please her.
“Do you like it?”
She turned. He was damp and wore a towel and there were flecks of toothpaste on his lips. His five o’clock shadow was gone. “It’s beautiful,” she assured him.
He nodded as if satisfied. “Are you going to unpack?”
“Just my nightgown and toothbrush.”
He went back into the bathroom to hang up his towel, edges aligned and seams facing each other. Apparently the Marine way. She stood at the sink brushing her teeth and looked sideways at her lover. His bruises were still yellow. He still looked like he had lost a fight. And his cock was ready for her. Time to rinse and spit.
“I don’t think you need a gown,” he rumbled. He began to undo her braid and run his fingers through the damp ringlets. “Let’s get you naked.”
That was his idea of romantic? Except that apparently romance was overhyped because his rough words made her womb contract and her passage grow moist. She grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the bed.
He opened the windows so cool moist air filled their bedroom. “Do you mind?” he asked. “I can’t seem to get enough Hanover air?” He tugged one of the red roses out of the jug and brought it to the bed twirling it gently between his big fingers.
She was undoing her jeans and he stopped her with a kiss. “Let me.” He tossed the rose on the bed and smoothed jeans and panties down her legs, pushing her gently so she sat down beside the rose. He pulled the jeans off and stripped away her socks. His big hand played with her midriff as if learning her curves before he pulled her sweater over her head and revealed her pink lace bra.
“You are so beautiful.” He bent his head to kiss her neck and breasts where the pale violet shadows of love bites still bloomed on her delicate skin. “I marked you,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He kissed her again. His words were an apology, his tone was jubilant.
He undid the strap of her bra and removed it so he could hold the soft weight of her breasts cupped in his hands. He let them bounce gently in his palms and sighed happily. He rubbed the coral tips lightly and bent to take them into his mouth. Hannah’s head went back as she felt the first delicious suction of lips and tongue and the excruciating pleasure of his teeth grazing her tender nipples.
He tossed the gold and white cushions to the floor and picked her up so she lay against the pillows. He used the rose to caress her breasts, lightly running the velvety petals over her alabaster skin. He dabbed the center on her tightly furled nipples. It felt like a promise. He moved the rose down the soft swell of her belly to her muff and swirled the flower over her flower. She opened her legs encouragingly and he tickled her labia and bud with the rose until she squirmed.
He gave the bloom in his hand a deep sniff. “It smells of you,” he told her huskily as he pulled the petals off and arranged them on her belly. His breath ruffled her skin as he snuffled around her naval.
“Are you eating those?” She giggled.
“They taste of you.” He fluffed her muff with his fingers and tasted her juices again. “Are you ready?” he asked. “Not yet,” he informed her. “But soon.”
He kissed her vulva open mouthed so that her legs reflexively tried to trap his head. He laughed a little and she felt the huffing as a caress. Her bud was tight and straining and still he had barely begun to lap. Her hips were making little circles to entice his kisses and all at once he was there, sucking her clitoris hard. She spasmed and he laughed delightedly before beginning to lap up her cream. His tongue went round and round and in and out of her slick depths.
He came to claim her swollen and panting mouth with his lips wet from her dew. Hannah tasted herself on him as he set his granite hard cock to her opening and pushed into the slippery paradise of her sheath. She tightened her legs around his hips and matched his ardent thrusting with her own. The liquid sound of their joining and the slapping of flesh against flesh was music that she had missed. When she felt the hot gush at her core her womb contracted fiercely to receive his seed and she fell asleep under him.
He woke before dawn to realize he was crushing Hannah beneath him. His big torso was lying half on her and his thighs pinned hers. Reluctantly he moved away from her. She was too delicate to be his mattress. The moon was a faint white ball against the pale grey sky. He should let his little bear sleep. But after all the barren months without her, he felt rejuvenated, whole, himself again.
Hannah woke. The mattress was moving. She remembered and turned to her mate. Jack was grinning at her happily. “Good morning,” she whispered huskily.
“Good morning,” he reached to kiss her but she whisked herself out of bed muttering. In the bathroom she rinsed her mouth and ran despairing fingers through the tangle of dark brown curls she saw in the mirror. Jack met her at the bathroom door and kissed the top of her head.
“I won’t be a moment.”
Hannah lay looking at the sun rise over the Kittitas. Something tight inside her had loosened. Was it the fact that he was willing to die for her? Could she be that basic? Yes, she could. A guy who put his life on the line, had to love you even if he never said so.
Jack came back to the bed still naked, with his face shiny. He had shaved and a blob of foam decorated one earlobe. He held his hands behind his back as he looked at her lying nude in the pale light of morning. His morning erection was poker stiff. He reached for her with his right hand and tugged her to sitting. He knelt before her and took her left hand in his right.
He brought his hand from behind his back and brought out a little velvet box. He flicked it open with his thumb. A princess-cut diamond dominated a channel ring glinting with many smaller diamonds. The huge diamond winked at her. “Will you wear my ring, my love?” Jack asked.
“Do you love me?” Hannah asked before she could stop herself.
“Yup.” He held out the box.
Hannah said. “You put it on.”
He slid the ring onto her finger and admired it on her hand. “Beautiful,” he said. But his eyes were on her face.
Looked like she got hearts and flowers after all, and hot bear sex. Forever.
Of course her practical nature asserted itself
at breakfast. She sat admiring her ring at the table while Jack made scrambled eggs and sausages at the stove.
“It’s crazy for me to wear a ring that’s would pay my mortgage for a year,” she blurted.
Jack turned and looked at her. He grinned and turned back to the stove. “Don’t you like it?” he asked lazily.
“I love it. That’s not the point. It’s beautiful, but it’s way too much to spend on a piece of jewelry.”
Jack brought plates heaped with eggs and toast and sausage links to the table. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “I figure that ring is like a big, old, honking sign saying, ‘She’s mine, hands off!’ Worth every penny.” He shook his head at her nonplussed face and tucked into his breakfast.
“You could buy a new car for what this ring cost.”
“Nah, not if it was loaded. Besides my truck was new two years ago, still has a lot of mileage.” He kept eating.
“Jack, I don’t need a ring this expensive to be happy.”
He took pity on her. “Honey, eat your breakfast, we’re rich. We’re pretty much timber barons. Now, you are never going to live in a mansion. And you’re never gonna drive a BMW. And our kids are for damn sure going to public school. But my wife is going to have a nice ring, so every time she sees it she can remember who she’s married to. Only way that’s going back is if you want a bigger stone.”
“But you and your brothers are in the military. You didn’t even go to college. If you’re rich I don’t get it.” She drank coffee.
“That’s the thing about being rich, you can follow your bliss. Eat up, honey, you’ll need your strength.”
She ignored him. “And your bliss was enlisting in the Marines?”
“Uh huh. Sweet cakes, I’m a bear. I wanted adventure when I was eighteen. Needed it like I needed air. Military seemed a place to find it. Turned out I liked the life. But now I want you and a passel of cubs. I’m on Terminal Leave if I want to be.”
Dragon's Treasure (BBW/Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 1) Page 26
