by Devyn Quinn
To honor his memory, Dakoda had chosen law enforcement as her own career. She already knew she wouldn’t be staying in the city, though. Born and raised in North Carolina, she’d always lived in the shadows of the mountains. Something in their tranquility beckoned to her spirit. They represented a stability she’d rarely known throughout her life. Simply, they reminded her of her stepfather.
Though Ash Jenkins’s killer was never caught, Dakoda knew exactly who’d killed Gregory Zerbe. The first time, the crime had gone unpunished. If she had her way, it wouldn’t happen a second time.
All she had to do was figure out how to get out of this place alive. Given that her roommate was a wild-ass cougar, that possibility was a very slim one, indeed.
Tired of sitting in her cramped position on the hard ground, Dakoda eyed the cougar for any sign of aggression. The cell was darker now, everything around her turning murky and indistinct as night stretched over the mountains.
The big cat didn’t move.
Taking a deep breath, she stretched out one leg, then the other. The ache in her knees eased a little. No telling how long she’d been sitting, letting her mind roam. At the moment, remembering the past was slightly more pleasant than contemplating her future.
Sensing her movements, the cougar’s amber eyes snapped open. Its ears flicked and its gaze brightened, wary and alert.
Realizing her movements had disturbed the animal, Dakoda flashed a wavering smile. “Nice kitty,” she soothed. “You just lay right there and be still.” She fought against the instinct to curl back up into a little ball, make herself as small as humanly possible. As a ranger cadet, she’d taken classes on wild animal encounters. Staying calm was the first key. Not agitating the animal was the second. Most wild animals normally avoided human contact, becoming aggressive only when they sensed danger.
Dakoda’s empty stomach rumbled again. She swallowed thickly, though her mouth was too dry to offer much liquid. Hunger was another factor that drove a wild animal to attack.
Just as soon as the cougar got a little rest, it was going to get antsy. A twinge deep in her bladder warned that her own discomfort would soon be increasing tenfold.
Inching around the cougar to use the chamber pot wasn’t the most appealing notion she’d entertained lately. The idea of her pants around her ankles and her bare ass hanging out damn near sent her into a spasm. That cougar would probably love to take a nice bite out of her tender rear.
Dakoda might have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so damn serious. The cell wasn’t going to be big enough for both of them much longer.
A sudden commotion of voices and movement outside the cell caught her attention. Heavy steps were punctuated by a series of guffaws. The grating of a lock and fall of a heavy chain allowed the cell door to open.
The cougar immediately leapt to its feet. It coiled into a defensive crouch; a low growl emanated from its throat.
Dakoda quickly pulled her legs back up toward her chest. “Oh shit…” she muttered. Now wasn’t the time to piss that big cat off.
A flash of light hit Dakoda in the eyes. Shielding her face with a hand, she watched two of the outlaws step inside. The one she recognized as Willie Barnett carried a battery-powered lantern. He also carried a small cooler, the kind used for storing food and drinks.
Dakoda welcomed the light; nobody wanted to be trapped in the dark with a cougar. She eyed the cooler. Food, I hope.
The redheaded man who’d ambushed them followed a close step behind. Rifle in hand, he pointed it at the cougar. “Keep your place,” he warned. “Or I’ll blow you to kingdom come.”
Dakoda froze. “Okay,” she said slowly, voice wavering more than a little.
Willie Barnett laughed. “Not you, little girl. Rusty’s talking to Jesse there, reminding that mangy Indian to mind his manners.”
Dakoda’s gaze swiveled to the cougar. Mangy Indian? She didn’t get it. Whatever the meaning was, it flew right over her head.
Though the cougar couldn’t possibly understand human words, it must have recognized and comprehended the danger the men represented. Backing up a little, it settled down on its haunches. Its eyes narrowed into slits, and a low growl emanated from its throat. Bowed, but not yet broken.
Willie Barnett walked over to the table. Setting down the lantern and cooler, he tugged out a chair. “Come here.”
Dakoda assumed he was speaking to her. She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay right here.” No reason to trust these men. They hadn’t shown anything but their bad sides.
The man called Rusty made a motion with his rifle. “The cougar won’t bother you.” He thumbed back the hammer on his rifle. “Guaranteed. Ol’ Jesse may be cursing himself for wanderin’ off his own land, but he ain’t entirely stupid. He knows them claws and teeth ain’t no match for my friends Smith and Wesson.”
Must be the moonshine, Dakoda decided. The men must have gotten hold of a bad batch of rotgut. Talking to the cougar like it was human—like it understood—was the work of a seriously deranged mind.
Opening the cooler, Willie Barnett made a motion with his hand. “Get on over here and eat.”
Dakoda considered refusing. The smell of the food the men had carried in was beginning to permeate the small cell, filling the air with the enticing aroma of meat cooked over an open flame. Mouth watering, her neglected appetite gave a ferocious kick. Her stomach didn’t intend to be denied much longer.
Easing to her feet, Dakoda slowly made her way to the table. She took the chair Barnett had pulled out for her, lowering herself into place. Another whiff of cooked meat hit her nostrils.
Barnett began to empty the cooler. “It ain’t the best, but it’s edible,” he grumbled, ripping open a foil-covered packet heaped with meat.
Dakoda surveyed the bounty. Ribs, still on the bone. A plastic bag of something that looked like trail mix lay beside a six-pack of plastic bottles filled with water. There was no cutlery, no napkins. Certainly no fancy dessert.
Her senses wavered, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since noon. That was a long time ago. The life she’d had before encountering the outlaws hardly seemed real now.
She picked at a piece of meat that appeared to be more charred than edible. When you’re hungry it’s a feast, she reminded herself. That didn’t mean she wanted to eat. Still, she realized the value of keeping strong, of staying aware. Lifting a piece to her mouth, she chewed slowly. Slathered with a tangy sauce and peppered, it tasted better than it looked.
“Eat up,” Barnett said gruffly. “We’ve got buyers coming in the next couple of days, and we don’t want you looking scrawny.”
Dakoda swallowed the bite. The tough meat scratched her throat, nearly gagging her. She coughed out the single word, “Buyers?”
A smile tugged at one corner of Rusty’s mouth. His gaze traveled the length of her body, lingering on her breasts. “You an’ Jesse here are bein’ sold. Got a good price for the both of you.”
Dakoda’s stomach twisted. The remnants of her hunger vanished. “Sold as what?” she asked slowly, though there was really no need to ask. It didn’t take rocket science to put two and two together.
Willie Barnett flashed an evil grin. “You’ll both be performin’ for your new owners…” Reaching out, he stroked her long hair away from the back of her neck, baring her nape. “Damn shame we have to sell both of you. You sure are pretty. I wouldn’t mind a little entertainin’ myself.”
Dakoda’s skin prickled under his nasty touch. A spike of disgust stole her breath. A knot of foreboding settled beneath her rib cage as a shiver rippled down her spine.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, fighting the sudden rise of nausea. “I’d fuck that cougar before I’d fuck you,” she snapped without thinking. She hated it when a man put his hands on her uninvited. Having suffered through multiple molestations as a young adult, she’d had more than enough of men pawing on her. Nobody touched her without her permission.
Nobody quickly b
ecame somebody. And that somebody had bad intentions on his mind—and the strength to back it up.
Barnett’s smile vanished. Jerking her out of the chair, he slammed her back against the wall. Her skull cracked the hard wall, sending a smattering of purple stars shooting in front of her eyes.
“Maybe I’ll just have a little piece of you right now,” he threatened, pinning her with his weight. A blast of foul odor hit her square in the face. His teeth were stained with tobacco, and his breath was as putrid as week-old road kill.
Dakoda struggled, writhing against him in an attempt to break free of his crushing physique. Taller and stronger, the mountain man wielded a brute’s strength with ease. Capturing her wrists, he easily pinned her arms above her head. His knee expertly moved between her legs, forcing them apart. His free hand worked the front of her uniform open.
Realizing his intent, Dakoda felt a numbing wave of sickness reel through her mind. Nausea rose in her stomach and spread through every part of her body. Fear turned her blood to icy water.
“Don’t,” she grated.
Even as she groaned in violent protest and squirmed beneath him, the outlaw pressed in on her. “Ready to be fucked right, honey?” Willie growled as his hand cupped her left breast and squeezed. He ground his hips against hers. The hard ridge of his erection left no doubt he intended to take her right there, standing against the wall.
The trembling started deep inside her. She tried to control it, but that wasn’t happening. All she could think about was Greg, how he’d shoved her out of harm’s way mere seconds before the outlaw pulled the trigger. In saving her life, he’d unwittingly condemned her to something far worse.
Dakoda steeled herself for the assault to come. She’d figured rape would be on their minds, and she was right. It was inevitable, not a matter of if, but when.
She closed her eyes, mentally distancing her mind from her body as he rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger.
It would be easier that way.
I don’t have to remember this…
A shattering roar split through her senses. Lunging forward, the big cat swiped one enormous paw across the outlaw’s back. Clothing and skin were ripped to shreds.
Willie Barnett screamed. Pushing away from Dakoda, he whirled, aiming a vicious kick at the cougar. “Get off me, Jesse!” A stream of foul curses spilled from his mouth.
Unwilling to back off, the cougar bared its fangs. Ears pinned back against its massive skull, it crouched, preparing to spring into action.
Turning his rifle around, Rusty swung the butt of the weapon toward the cougar’s head. The stock connected soundly with the big cat’s skull, landing with a gut-turning smack. “Get back!” he shouted at the big cat. “Get back or I’ll kill you now.”
The cougar reeled, dropping to the ground. The blow had opened a deep gash. Blood leaked from the gaping wound. A half-growl, half-moan emanated from its open mouth.
Legs losing strength, Dakoda sagged to the floor. Heart sinking, her breath whistled in and out of her lungs as she watched Willie Barnett approach the downed cougar. Enraged by her screams, the animal had gone on the attack, doing what came naturally.
Furious that he’d been injured, Barnett was on the warpath. “That was a stupid thing to do, Jesse,” he said, his voice chill with anger. Drawing back his foot, he delivered a kick to the animal’s ribs with one booted foot.
Finding new strength, the cougar immediately leapt back to its feet. Amber eyes flamed, alight with hellish fury. Mouth opening, nostrils flaring, the big cat snarled threateningly. Sharp fangs snapped at the outlaw’s leg.
Barnett stumbled back, cursing. The cougar bared its teeth savagely. Lethal intent gleamed in its slitted gaze.
If it got the chance, it would do its best to kill him.
3
The cougar was pissed. No doubt about it. Its defensive stance radiated threat and menace.
A prickling sensation ran up Dakoda’s spine as she watched the cougar watch her. Reflected in the light of the lantern, its amber eyes snapped with an unnatural chatoyancy, as if an electrical charge had been wired to its tail and the energy turned on full power.
This time the cougar wasn’t putting up with any shit from human beings. Pacing the small cell from side to side, a series of low growls slipped from its mouth. Sides heaving, it panted heavily, nostrils flaring with every breath it took.
Careful to make no sudden moves, Dakoda eyed the beast. Thank goodness she still had the lantern and the light it provided. Had the men left her in the dark again, she was sure she’d have fallen to pieces right then and there. At least she could see. As long as she could see, she could judge the situation and decide her next best move. Being shredded and devoured just wasn’t her idea of a good way to die.
Not that being hit full force in the gut with double-ought buckshot was preferable. At least Gregory Zerbe had died quickly and didn’t suffer. Cougars smothered their prey, grabbing their victims by the neck and crushing their necks. One or two minutes of pure terror would be followed by the realization the reaper wasn’t only knocking on the door, he was grinding down full throttle.
Be an iceberg, she advised herself, and chill. The idea of dying alone shook her to the very center of her being. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d hoped to meet the right man, settle down, and, someday, raise a family. A real family. Nothing like the one she’d known as a child.
Snuffling a growl, the cougar kept pacing.
Dakoda’s thoughts of a future of any sort slowly drizzled away. “It’s just you and me, big boy,” she said, attempting to keep her voice level and soothing. “The bad men who hurt us are gone.” Once the big cat got back on its feet, the outlaws had beat a hasty retreat. True to their natures, they were cowards in every way.
The cougar ignored her.
Typical male.
Dakoda considered her options. She really didn’t want to spend the night standing in a corner. For one, she was tired. For two, she was hungry. For three, she really needed to pee. Her bladder was beginning to nag. If she didn’t get a chance for relief soon, she’d burst. The idea of wetting her pants was as unappealing. If worse came to worst—and she suspected it would—she would soon be making her corner her pit-stop. The bunk and the precious chamber pot were on the cougar’s side of the cell.
Her side had the table.
Dakoda’s gaze settled on the aluminum foil heaped with meat. And I have the food. Inspiration arrived, manna from heaven. Hope glimmered. Perhaps she could mollify the fuming cougar with a peace offering.
Inching over to the table, Dakoda reached out. Snatching a piece of meat from the pile, she held it out in front of her. “Here, kitty,” she said softly.
Attention shifting toward the new distraction, the cougar ceased its relentless pacing. Blood still seeped from the narrow wound the outlaw’s rifle had inflicted, but it wasn’t enough of a flow to cause much concern. The cougar’s broad pink nose flexed, scenting the morsel.
Dakoda held the meat out, as far away from her body as physically possible. Sacrificing a limb wasn’t at the top of her list of things to do. “I know you’re hungry, big fella,” she continued, trying to establish some sort of verbal rapport. Animals were intelligent creatures, well able to think and function in their quest for survival. The poachers certainly seemed to think so. They’d spoken as if the big cat were fully capable of understanding and responding accordingly.
Neither one of us were very smart, came the dissenting thought. We both got caught.
She dangled the meat. “Come here, boy. Come and get it.”
Menace fading a bit from its predatory gaze, the cougar paced forward, lifting its head higher as it approached. Massive jaws opened.
Dakoda tossed the meat into the yawning void. “Here you go.”
The cougar devoured the morsel with a single gulp, grinding meat and bone together with gigantic teeth. It swallowed. A sound emanated from its mouth, a sigh of relief. The cougar was just a
s hungry and tired as she was.
Dakoda tossed another bite. “Good kitty,” she soothed. “Nice kitty. You just eat this meat and forget about eating me, okay?” Keeping her movements slow, she continued until nothing remained of dinner except the trail mix and bottles of water.
The cougar looked at her, cocking its head in question.
Dakoda showed empty hands. “No more,” she said, shaking her head in an exaggerated manner. “All gone.” She felt a little silly talking to the animal, but that was better than the alternative—being killed by the cougar.
As though it understood, the cougar dropped to the floor. Now that its stomach was full, the feline set to another equally important task. Grooming. A pink tongue whizzed across its fur.
Relieved the cat was occupied, Dakoda snagged the trail mix and a bottle of water. Inching around the cat, she headed toward the bunk. Since the cat wasn’t looking her way, she felt a bit more comfortable taking care of vital business.
Retrieving the lidded chamber pot, Dakoda set it by the bunk. It wasn’t anything she wanted to use, but she had no choice. People had gotten along just fine before modern plumbing was invented. Nevertheless, embarrassment reddened her cheeks as she undid her pants, then squatted. Men are so lucky. They can pee standing up.
Consideration of the cougar taking a nice chunk out of her skinny butt hurried her along. Release was immediate and welcome.
Sliding the used chamber pot back under the bunk, Dakoda sat down on the bunk. Covered with a few ragged blankets, it offered a welcome respite from the cold, bare ground. If she had to split the cell with the cougar, at least she had the better half. Still she was acutely conscious of the threat not so far away. A single bound was all it would take for the big cat to overtake her.
Glad to be off the floor, she drew her legs up. Less temptation. Those ivory-white teeth could snap off a foot in no time flat. Since the cougar might still be hungry, her best bet was not to tempt it. It hadn’t attacked her yet, a definite plus in her book. She’d consider herself lucky if she saw the sun rise tomorrow.
