Ursa Unearthed (Scourge Survivor Series Book 2)

by JL Madore

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Fifteen minutes later, I backed into one of the reserve spots at the underground parking lot across from my office. What happened with Bruin? Can you say 180? One minute he was begging me to stay and the next, he gave me the bum's rush. The ride down to the parking garage had been eerily quiet, then, after a quick kiss on the cheek, he bolted back to the elevator.

  I wasn't expecting sloppy goodbyes or anything—a hook-up was just a hook-up after all—but I thought the potential between us was worth more than a total shut down. I unbuckled my seatbelt harness and slid the straps off my shoulders. "Just because you have hours of life-altering, mind-blowing sex all over a swanky hotel suite doesn't mean you know a guy, geez."

  Maybe it had nothing to do with me. Maybe he really did need to get back to his father.

  Nah. His expression when he'd read my card said otherwise. The journalist thing threw him. That much was obvious. Maybe he was a criminal and thought I'd expose his activities. Well, if he dabbled on the dark side of things it was lucky I found out early so I could steer clear.

  He hadn't felt like a criminal though. He'd felt. . .

  I shook the erotic barrage of images from my head and refused to give it another thought. The echo of my truck door slamming, bounced around the empty parking garage. I hiked my backpack higher on my shoulder and headed for the Granville Street exit and for the main entrance of The Vancouver Sun.

  The air in the business core of the city hung silent. No rhythmic plodding of footsteps or whooshing of cars through the dampened streets. There wasn't even the irate squawk of seagulls or the coo of pigeons. Weird.

  Was my newfound paranoia a residual from last night's attack? Unzipping my purse, I slipped my hand inside and closed my fingers around the polymer handle of my trusty Taser. Without drawing it, I made a slow, steady sweep, scanning the parking lot and surrounding buildings as I moved. The hair on the nape of my neck stood on end. I ignored the nagging ache in my chest and tried to breathe as I swiped my security card and let myself into the building.

  After signing in with the security desk, I headed upstairs.

  Geez, my desk looked like the finger of god had touched down: files everywhere, pencils on the floor, stacks of backdated newspapers avalanching across my credenza.

  Perfect. Just the way I left it.

  After shifting a few files, I excavated two blue folders and piled them with the half-read bodice ripper romance novel from my drawer. When I booted up my computer the vibration in the air shifted. I reached for my cell and waited to check caller ID.

  Assistant Crown Attorney Brantfield.

  I plunked in my desk chair and stretched my stiff neck. After exchanging the usual greetings, I got right to it. "Do you need me to come in? I'm getting ready to head out of the city for a week or two."

  "Two weeks is a problem. The discovery interviews for the Nimithic Group trial are scheduled to start Wednesday. We'll need your formal statement."

  "I can come back. When and where?"

  "My assistant will let you know the exact date and time as things progress. Can she contact you at this number or by email when I have more information?"

  "Of course."

  As soon as I snapped my cell shut the battery died and the screen faded to black. I tossed it into my purse and grabbed my USB key from the bottom of my desk drawer. After opening the Nimithic Group files on my laptop I transferred a copy to an encrypted backup on a private cloud server, then saved another onto my key. Once I verified both copies had transferred, I cleared my history, shut down the laptop and slid it from its docking station into my backpack. With the addition of my folders I was zipped up and—

  "What the hell?" My legs buckled and I sank back into my chair. I hissed a foul curse and shook my hand. My palm stung, the flesh searing white hot. It felt like I'd been bitten by a snake and the venom had lit a path up my arm. I opened my fingers, half expecting my hand to burst into flames. "What the—"

  A tattoo had emblazoned into my skin, an oval medallion containing a stylized symbol of a bear surrounded by an ancient Sanskrit of some kind. What was it about me that drew this kind of chaos from the universe? I mean really, if anything whacked or weird was going on within a twenty-block radius it would find me like a heat-seeking missile. Guaranteed.

  I blew at the seared flesh and studied the tattoo. Another bear clan thing, Earth Mother? After a quick stop at my house I'd head straight to the reserve to show Grandfather. The symbols looked sort of familiar, though I couldn't place them. If not he, then one of the council might know what it was about.

  Scrambling through my desk for a pen, I scribbled a Dear Paige letter, pinned it to the board outside her office, grabbed my stuff and locked up.

  Back on the street, I drew a deep breath, looked skyward and exhaled.

  Apologies Earth Mother. A tickle of mist covered my face and I gathered myself. I held my burning palm open to the cool precipitation. I was of the Ursine Clan. I was of the Earth. I had no business criticizing the ways of the Earth Mother. She was life and energy, creation and evolution. I was her humble servant. I inhaled again. Better.

  Vancouver was a wet city, but rain meant nourishment and rebirth. It took filthy smog-filled air, oil-slicked pavement and the grungy streets and washed them clean. It repainted the landscape without anyone even considering what a miracle of nature it was.

  The sky belched an ominous grumble which rolled away like ocean waves. Something powerful brewed on the horizon. I could feel it in my marrow. Another rumble, this one, long and with purpose. It gained in strength, blanketing me under a threatening cover.

  The breeze lifted my hair, and swirled with deliberation. The message whispered on the wind. Be prepared for what comes.

  Be prepared? That didn't tell me anything. No two ways about it, Earth Spirits were frustrating. I shifted my backpack from my shoulder to my good hand and started jogging. Hustling down the stairs into the parking garage I double-timed it to my truck. After popping the locks, I jumped behind the wheel and dumped my stuff on the passenger's seat. Reaching for the door handle—a hand clasped my arm.

  "Mika." Bruin leaned into my view and interrupted the scream pealing from my throat. "Mika, it's me. Calm down."

  I closed my gaping mouth and listened to my pulse thunder in my ears. "You scared the crap out of me. What the hell?"

  "Sorry."

  I leaned against the headrest and tried to breathe. When I opened my eyes, he was there, standing inside my open door. I inhaled sharply. Just looking at him had every ripe cell within me swelling with need. Stop it. "What are you doing here?"

  "I need to speak with you."

  My laugh held all the whatever I could muster. "You didn't have much to say to me an hour ago. In fact, you gave me the old, 'been there, done you, there's the door'."

  Bruin scowled. "It wasn't like that. It's just . . ." He bit his lip and paced to the front of my truck. Leaning both hands on the hood, he stared at me through the windshield. His eyes were almost amber in the reflected light of dusk. "It's complicated."

  I laughed again, spilling out of my seat and onto my feet. "Complicated? Environmental science is complicated. World politics is complicated. Hell, shower sex is complicated, but we seemed to manage that. Complicated is a cop-out."

  "That's not fair."

  "No? Then tell me, what's so complicated?"

  He clenched his jaw and exhaled. "I wouldn't know where to start."

  I laughed. "Right. Don't make this into something it's not, Bruin. We met, we had fun with each other. End of. I don't need this to be anything—"

  In a move too fast to believe, he snatched my wrist and flipped up my hand. "Oh, Sweet Shalana. This. Can't. Be."

  "What?"

  Open mouthed, Bruin held up his palm. He had the same tattoo burned into the skin of his hand, a mirror image of mine.

  "But . . . you're not First Nations. Are you?"

  His look of bafflement must have matched mine. "W
hat? No. Why?"

  "That's what this is, isn't it? A symbol . . . a message from the Earth Mother?"

  Bruin laced his fingers with mine and clutched our hands together, palm to palm. I gasped as a current of energy jolted up my arm and through my body. My skin tingled, my heart pounded, and for the first time since it appeared, the tattoo stopped burning.

  In all my life, I had never been so lost . . . so uncertain . . . so damned turned on.

  I shook my head, trying to clear the muddle clouding my brain. "Bruin, what is going on? This afternoon you all but booted me out of your suite when things seemed to be going really well. And now you . . . what?"

  He groaned, his voice rough. "Mika, you need to trust me."

  I pulled my hand free. "Trust is not my best event. Why don't you tell me what's going on."

  "The Fates have branded us. You can't smell it, but you're giving off a scent. It's like a beacon flashing in the darkness. Any moment we could be surrounded by my enemies."

  I stared at him, then scanned the abandoned concrete garage. "Are you punking me?"

  "Dammit Mika. I'm trying to keep you alive here."

  I stepped back. "You're nuts, you know that?"

  "No. I'm not."

  "Okay, let's say you're not. I have no interest in your mysterious enemies or your illegal activity or any of your drama. You and I had fun together. End of story. Goodbye."

  He shook his head and tightened his grip on my wrist. "That's not your decision, Mika. The Fates have decided."

  "Decided what? What do you think these markings mean?"

  He opened his mouth, closed it, and cursed. "They're bonding brands. We are to be mated."

  I tried not to laugh, even though my brain cramped over the entire situation.

  He balled his hands into fists and began pacing. "You are mine. I am yours. That's what it means. Two halves of one heart."

  I held up a finger and stepped back. "You. Are. Insane."

  The anguish in his expression gave me chills. "My world is different than yours," he said. "It's twisted and dangerous. It's no place for a woman like you—but here you are—mixed up in the mind-fuck that is my reality. There are people who want my line ended. They'll use you as leverage against me . . . kill you before you can bare my young."

  Bear his young? I watched his eyes, gauged his physical tells. There wasn't one thing to suggest he was lying. He believed what he said. Drugs? Was this whole thing one big psychotic delusion?

  He cursed and stepped closer. "Let me explain."

  I matched his move and retreated. "Bruin. Look. I'm sorry you're worked up, but I'm done. Forget you met me. Don't call, don't text. And don't show up in my life again."

  He grabbed my shoulder as I turned. "You don't get to walk away from this, Mika. They will kill you. Like it or not I'm not leaving here without you."

  "Take your hands off me."

  He didn't.

  I swung fast with my other hand and smacked his face. Hard. It was like slapping a granite slab. He glared at me, amber flecks surfacing in his eyes, drowning out his usual turquoise. How did his eyes change colour like that? Raising his fingers, he rubbed the pink blush where I struck him. He stretched his jaw, his stare intense.

  "Look boys, a lover's spat." The graveled voice had Bruin whirling toward the exit ramp of the garage. Three well-built men dripping menace and dressed in black fatigues blocked our way out. They stalked closer, their extended guns catching the dim fluorescent light from above. "Having troubles controlling your bitch, Bruin?"

  In a blurring show of strength and speed, Bruin threw me into the truck, slammed the door and positioned himself at the front bumper. "She's nobody's bitch, Dog. Least of all mine."

  The leader of the group lifted his nose to the air and inhaled. His cold sneer grew wider as he stalked closer, raising the barrel of his weapon. "Smells like a bitch in heat to me. You've been on the watch list a long time, Bruin. You don't mind if we drag out the fun a bit, do you?"

  "Reign will fry your balls and feed them to Aust's wolves if you attack an innocent."

  "You think we're afraid of wolves?" The second guy, a blond brute with a ponytail, chuckled as the three of them fanned out. "Besides she's no innocent. She's your mate."

  "Wrong. I met her last night at a bar. She's one hundred percent human."

  Human? Why would he even say that?

  The third guy, an Incredible Hulk type, laughed. "Branding scents don't lie, Alpha. She's your mate and she's not getting out of this alive."

  Bruin growled. Not the playful sex-growl from this morning, but a deep guttural warning. "Forget her, it's me you want—and here we are—three on one. But I bet you still couldn't take me alive without your guns. In fact, I dare you to try."

  Dog's head cocked to one side as his eyes lit up. "We were told to leave you alive, but now you've gone and dared us." He tucked his gun at the small of his back and signalled his buddies to join him. In a crouch, the three men shifted on the balls of their feet, posturing, circling, ready to lunge, but hesitating.

  Bruin chuckled. "So, do you want to fight or are you going to sniff each other's crotches?"

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  My heart leapt to my throat as Bruin catapulted into the fray. Arms flew. Fists connected. Bodies collided. Bruin grabbed hold of a gun and struggled. Dog caught him around the waist and tried to take him down. Bruin's wide stance remained rooted, but the gun clattered to the pavement. The other two men split and advanced from opposite directions.

  Hulk hit fast and low, throwing his weight behind the attack. The three of them grappled, kicked and thrashed. Blood sprayed and oaths sliced the air. Ponytail guy swept the back of Bruin's knee. The contact wheeled him around and he lost his footing. They crashed into the front of my truck as a tangled mob and then dropped to the concrete.

  The Humvee bounced and rocked as the fight continued. The noise of the scuffle rose in the air, guttural snarls sounding more like animals than men. Dull thuds of fists to body and curses amplified in the cavernous concrete garage.

  I dumped the contents of my purse onto the passenger seat. My belongings rained onto the leather and I scanned the pile. Two options—phone or Taser.

  Pressing up against the dash, I strained to see. Bruin launched back to his feet. He grappled Ponytail, grunting and cursing as the others took cracks at him with spiked sticks. Where did those come from? I grabbed my phone and flipped it open. Nothing.

  I jumped when a silver glint flashed and Ponytail pointed a gun at Bruin.

  I hit the power button again and held it. Nothing. I tossed the thing and grabbed my Taser. The snap of bone had my head whiplashing. Ponytail slid from Bruin's grip and fell to the ground with a thud and a vacant stare.

  A second later, Dog and Bruin were back at it. Arms, fists and blood spray flew. How the hell was Bruin still standing? I caught the look on the Hulk's face as Ponytail crumpled to the ground. Hulk mad . . . Hulk kill.

  Flinging the door wide, I rounded the front of the truck at the same moment Bruin dragged the knife across Dog's throat. A scarlet trail gave way to a gush of blood and the body fell to the pavement. Bruin straightened, chest heaving and covered in blood. His? Theirs? It was impossible to tell.

  I raised my Taser at the remaining attacker.

  Hulk's gaze narrowed as he aimed square into Bruin's chest. "Looks like a standoff, bitch. Except, I have a gun and know how to use it. You ever shoot anyone with your plastic toy?"

  I tightened up on my grip and stepped closer. Fifteen feet was maximum range. Closer was better. "It's not too complicated. I just point the laser site where I want to shoot and electrocuting probes shoot out and knock out your central nervous system."

  Hulk adjusted his stance and swept his aim toward me.

  Bruin staggered between us. "No! I'm the one you want. You have your shot, asshole, right here." He struggled to straighten, slapping a hand against his sternum and broadening his stance. "You got one chance at this, motherfuck
er. I'm your only shot. Make it mortal or you won't make it home. I promise you that."

  I hissed. "Bruin, shut up. What are you doing?"

  Bruin ape-smacked his broad, bloody chest. When Hulk gazed at me, he rolled onto the balls of his feed and eased into a crouch. "It's me you want, mutt. Point that thing right here."

  Was he crazy? I shifted and Hulk followed.

  Bruin launched. The frenzy of muscle and hard-core determination made it impossible to tell where one man began and the other ended. A shot rang out. I screamed and scrambled for a better position. With my attention locked on the writhing bodies, I tripped and fell to the ground. My palms burned from impact of the concrete and I lost my Taser. Scrambling to regain my footing, I grabbed a weapon.

  Another shot.

  Who was hit? The entwined struggle went down like a fallen tree. Curses and hisses cut through the violent energy in the air.

  I raised my aim, waiting as they steam-rollered back and forth across the cold, hard ground. I couldn't get a bead on who was where until Hulk rolled to his knees and straddled Bruin's heaving torso. Four hands clenched the gun, but Hulk's position gave him the leverage to bull's-eye the muzzle against Bruin's forehead.

  A third shot. Time froze.

  As my trigger finger released, Hulk's massive frame twisted from the impact of my bullet. Bruin rolled with the falling weight of his attacker, slumping him to the side. I'd never shot anyone before. Targets. Dummies. Bottles.

  Never a person.

  The crack of the shot echoed hollow inside my head a thousand times. Like an endless bang of thunder riding a slow wave across an angry sky. What had I done?

  Bruin palmed the barrel of the gun and eased it from my hands. "Shit, you're shaking like a leaf. Here, baby, sit down before you fall down."

  My feet weren't listening, but somehow Bruin ushered us around the truck and sat me on the running board. On bended knee, he brushed my hair from my face. He was a straight shot of adrenaline. And even beaten and bloodied, I'd bet that was the only thing keeping him vertical.