Krieger was intrigued now. He patrolled his area religiously and thoroughly. He would have found a lost—or dead—hiker or shifter in that time. “Foul play?”
The implication sent the tension in the room spiking. If someone was harming shifters in the Blackstone Mountains, there would be hell to pay. The burning, dragon type. The Lennoxes would not take such an insult lying down.
“I’ll definitely look into this, Tim,” Damon promised. “You have my word.”
“I appreciate it, Chief.” Grimes pushed his chair away and got up. “If you don’t mind, I should get back to work. Can I get you anything else?”
“I’m good,” Damon said.
Krieger shook his head.
Grimes nodded, then turned and walked away.
“This could be serious stuff,” Damon said when they were alone.
“Or nothing at all.”
“True. It could be nothing, and I don’t want to cause a panic or bother the big boss with this.”
The big boss was, of course, Matthew Lennox, the biggest and baddest dragon and Alpha in town.
“What does your gut say, Chief?”
“I’m not sure … it could be …” He took a swig of the beer.
The hesitation in Damon’s eyes was obvious, and Krieger once again reminded himself that change couldn’t happen in an instant. It wasn’t a wonder that Damon had risen up quickly in the Special Forces. His instincts and relentlessness had been a force to be reckoned with. But that last mission that had put them both in a similar state had obviously wrecked the former commander’s confidence when making calls.
“How about I keep an eye out for anything strange going up there?”
“I think that would be the smart move,” Damon said. “I know I can trust you, Krieger.”
He grunted. “I’ll try not to let you down.”
Damon forced a laugh. “Again, it could be nothing, and Oscar’ll show up back in town.”
“Hope so.” He finished his beer.
“Well, I should get going.” Damon checked his watch. “Anna Victoria’s finishing up her last class, and we’re gonna get dinner on Main Street. Want to join us?”
Krieger’s body tensed at the mention of the female. “Nah. Wouldn’t want to horn in on your date.”
“Not at all. In fact, Anna Victoria’s been asking when she’s going to get to see you again.” There was a light in Damon’s eyes whenever he said his mate’s name. “She thinks you clean up nice in that tux.”
He stifled the urge to wince. Attending the Blackstone Ranger anniversary party had been one of the most difficult things he had to do, but he got through it. He didn’t stay very long and he had been cocooned in the safety of the company of the four men he trusted most, but he made it. And it brought him so much closer to what he wanted.
“Another time, maybe.” He was happy for his former commander that he’d found the other half of his soul and had seen the changes it had made for him. And it was Damon finding his mate that had started this whole thing in the first place.
Damon stood up. “All right, don’t be a stranger now.”
“I’ll head out with you.”
The two men walked toward the main room. Thankfully, there weren’t too many patrons. However, Krieger immediately noticed Damon tense. “What—oh.”
Sitting by himself at the bar, hunched over a glass, was Anders Stevens.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” The Demon growled from deep within. “That asshole’s supposed to be at work. I’m gonna tear him—”
“Hold on, Chief.” Krieger placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder.
“But—”
“You said it yourself, he’s one of the best guys you have,” Krieger reminded him.
“Yeah, except he’s had his head up his ass this entire week. Can’t do a damn thing right.”
“Why don’t you let me take care of this one? Anna Victoria wouldn’t want you to be late.”
Conflict flashed across Damon’s face as the part of him that was chief of the Blackstone Rangers and his mated bear fought with each other. But Krieger already knew which part would win out. “Are you sure about him? What you told me?”
“Sure as day.” Ever since he started going to The Den a few months ago, Krieger never missed a chance to observe Blackstone’s resident “player” in action. Or lack of action.
While most people thought Anders Stevens was a playboy who took a different girl to bed every night, Krieger knew better. The man was a savior—and all those tipsy girls he took “home” had been safely delivered, unmolested, back to their respective residences. When he reported back to Damon what he’d found out, he’d been shocked to say the least.
“Tell him to get his ass to work,” Damon ordered. “I’ll come by your cabin on Friday.” Damon made sure to come up and visit at least every other week.
“Sure thing, Chief.” He waited until Damon disappeared through the exit before walking over to Anders. It seemed a group of girls playing at the pool table had caught his eye, as he made a move to stand up.
Krieger placed a heavy hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Anders’s spine stiffened, then he looked up. “Krieger.” His mouth pulled back tight. “Yeah, what a coincidence. Are you stalking me?” He tsked. “People are gonna start to talk.” He brushed off Krieger’s hand. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“That”—he nodded toward the girls at the pool table—“is not going to help.” Something about Anders set off his instincts. For one thing, that was real alcohol in his glass. And for another, none of those girls looked tipsy, nor were they in danger from anyone in the bar.
“Mind your own business, Sarge,” Anders said in a calm tone that held a deadly edge.
“Damon’s concerned about you. You know, he thinks you’re one of the best rangers we have.” Those words had their desired effect—to unnerve and unarm Anders. So, Krieger continued. “But he noticed you’ve been getting sloppy this last week. I said I’d watch out for you.”
“Well, thank you very fucking much, guardian angel. But I don’t need your help.” Anders reached for the glass of whiskey.
“That’s not going to solve anything either. You know that.” He had no idea why Anders didn’t drink, but he knew there had to be a reason. And he would do his best to make sure the tiger shifter didn’t fall off the wagon.
“Yeah, well it sure won’t fucking hurt.”
As he lifted the glass to his lips, Krieger considered swatting it out of his hand, but there was no need. Anders stopped halfway; his attention caught by something by the door.
No, it wasn’t something. It was someone.
A woman.
Of course.
Krieger had seen that look in Anders’s face before. It was the same one he’d observed several times these past months. Damon. Gabriel Russel. Daniel Rogers. Every single one of them had that expression on their faces whenever their mates were around. Like there was no one else in the room—or the entire world.
When the woman spotted Anders and started making a beeline toward them, Krieger decided it was probably better to give them some privacy. “I’m gonna head to the john.”
He strode off toward the men’s bathroom, thankful that it was empty. The din outside wreaked havoc on his senses, making his bear antsy. Still, it was a testament to how far he’d come. How the work he’d put in the last few months was paying off.
Change didn’t happen overnight. And he’d worked his fucking ass off the last couple of months, crawling out of that hole he’d dug himself into for the past five years. Slowly leaving his self-constructed prison up in the peak. Opening up to Damon. Watching over his colleagues. Keeping them safe. All to make himself a better man. To be worthy of his mate.
And maybe soon, he would be.
The door pushed open, knocking him out of his thoughts. His grizzly didn’t even bare its teeth or growl in the direction of the stranger who came in. If it had been
a year ago, it would have fought him, clawed at him to lash at anyone who dared come into their space. Hell, a year ago, he wouldn’t have made it this far away from his cabin for this long. Now, he could even look himself in the mirror without feeling anger or disgust.
After washing his hands, he strode back outside. Glancing toward the bar, he saw Anders was alone now. Where was the woman? From the way the tiger shifter was giving the exit the thousand-yard stare, he could only guess.
Anders seemingly shook himself out of his daze as he dashed toward the door.
What the hell? “Anders!” he called.
When he caught up to him, Anders stopped and turned around. “I have to go,” he said. “Er, sorry, man. Tell Damon he can punish me tomorrow. I’ll even do trash duty for a month. But I have to go now.”
From the frantic way he left, Krieger could only guess that Anders fucked things up somehow and needed to make it up to his mate. This would be interesting, to see the boisterous and cocky tiger shifter brought down to his knees by his mate.
However, when he got out of The Den, he did not expect to see Anders facing down a luxury limo head-on.
Fucking idiot!
Krieger sprang into action, his animal reflexes kicking in as he tackled Anders to the ground.
“No!” Hands reached out to claw at him. “Let me go!”
“Anders.” Holding the other man down, Krieger reached out to his animal side, its rage burning hotly. “Anders!”
That seemed to work as the fury in his eyes dulled down. “What the fuck, man!” He wrenched himself away. “They took her, Goddammit! Took my mate!”
“And how would getting flattened by that car have helped?” Krieger snorted. “Use your fucking head.” Still, he couldn’t blame Anders.
“I need to go after them.” He shot up to his feet and marched toward his pickup.
Krieger let out a grunt. “I’m going with you.”
“Whatever,” Anders warned. “Just don’t get in my way.”
They both hopped into the pickup, and Anders sped out of the parking lot, tires screeching as he chased after the limousine. His teeth were gritted together and his knuckles white from gripping the wheel, mind seemingly focused on one single task: get his mate. So, Krieger knew he had to be the calm, reasonable one.
Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he dialed 911 and reported the incident. The dispatcher was cool and professional as she took down the details. “…we’re in pursuit now, heading northbound on Highway Seventy-Five … yes, thank you.”
The limo was still a small dot down the highway, and Anders let out a frustrated sound as the engine of his truck protested as he pushed it to its limits. “Goddammit!”
“Just keep ’em in sight,” he assured the tiger shifter. “We’ll get help.” While he kept the dispatcher on the line, he switched to his messaging app and sent a text to Damon, giving him a quick rundown of what was happening.
“What the fuck?”
Krieger slammed his palms on the dash as Anders suddenly engaged the brakes. “What the hell?”
Anders’s animal growled, and Krieger followed his gaze. The limo they had been pursuing was now slammed up against a massive pine tree on the side of the highway.
The muscles under Anders’s skin crawled, and Krieger knew his shift was inevitable. “I’ll take the right, you take the left,” he instructed. “And do what you can to keep your mate safe.”
Anders answered with a savage, inhuman roar as he leapt out of the truck. Krieger whipped his shirt off and shucked out of his jeans and boots as he dashed toward the limo.
Calling on his grizzly, he let the mighty bear tear out of him, skin making way for fur and hulking shoulders. Coming up on the right side of the vehicle, the bear smashed a giant paw through the window, then pulled the entire door off. Then it poked its head in and let out a defining roar. To his surprise, a large, burly man flew out, tackling him to the ground.
Fucking idiot.
Despite putting up a big fight, the male was no match for the bear. Oh, he was fierce and fought well, and Krieger could sense the other man was a shifter, too, but that didn’t mean shit when faced with a thousand-pound beast. However, as he always did before he had to take a life now, he had to tell himself this was necessary, to protect a friend and prevent another death of an innocent. With that in mind, he finished the job.
The roar of a tiger and the pathetic cry that followed it told Krieger that Anders took care of things on his end as well.
As the bear stood over its kill, it suddenly went very still. The beast turned and lumbered back toward the highway. The sirens in the distance were coming closer, but that wasn’t what caught his bear’s attention.
And when he saw the flash of coppery red on the gray asphalt, his heart stopped beating.
No.
“No!”
Krieger didn’t even realize he’d begun to shift as he raced toward the middle of the highway. By the time he reached the prone body lying on the ground, he was fully human, and he cradled Dutchy’s frail, naked body in his arms.
“No …” Tears sprung in his eyes, and he was powerless to stop them. “Please. No.” He brushed the hair covering her pale face, not that he needed to confirm it was her. He just knew, just as his bear did. “Don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.”
“... what the hell happened?”
“... kidnapped Darcey.…”
“... went after them … and Krieger.…”
“... shit. I need to go check on Sarah. Will he be okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll stay here.”
That last voice Krieger recognized as Damon’s. And the other man who strode down the hallway of the Blackstone Hospital was Daniel Rogers.
What happened after he found Dutchy on the road was all a blur to him. The sirens growing louder. The EMTs trying to get to Dutchy. It took a couple of officers to pull him off. The sharp sting of a tranq dart. Not that it knocked him out, but it was enough to keep him down until Damon arrived on the scene. Then, the sight of Dutchy being loaded away onto a stretcher sent him and his animal into a frenzy again.
Damon promised that he would drive him to the hospital if he calmed down. And so, here they were.
“You okay, man?” Damon asked as he sat beside him. They were in some kind of waiting room, but even here, the sterile smell of the hospital burned at his nostrils. “Are you ready to talk?”
He swallowed hard. Though he and Damon had built up their friendship in the last months, this was the one thing he couldn’t share with the other man. It seemed too private and personal, plus he didn’t want Damon to push the mate thing, not when he wasn’t ready.
“Krieger?”
“You saved my life,” he began.
Damon chuffed. “I sent you into that market building. Right into a trap. You were buried under there for days. I hardly call that saving your life.”
“It was war. You get faulty intelligence now and again. But I’m not talking about that part.” He flexed his fingers on his knees. “I’m talking about when you brought me here. After …” He pushed away the memories. “You gave me a place where I could stay away from other people. Because I couldn’t control my animal’s thirst for blood.” And that was the truth. When Damon found him, he’d been in a feral state, living deep in the mountains of Kargan in mostly animal form. The locals had thought he’d been some kind of monster. And he was.
“But you’re better now,” Damon pointed out. “You’ve come so far. I mean, look at where you are now.”
“Remember that day you told me that you found your mate?”
The chief’s jaw hardened. “I would have lost her, if it wasn’t for you.” Anna Victoria had been kidnapped by her ex-fiancé who had chased her down because she was a key witness in a crime he committed. Krieger had found her right before the bastard’s goons could do the deed and he took care of them. “So, you can consider that debt paid.”
“But you saved my life
again.” He lifted his head to meet his friend’s gaze. “I saw for myself the change that happened to you. And that’s when I realized I was wrong. Wrong for pushing Dutchy away. To think I couldn’t change for her.”
Damon swallowed hard. “This … was all for her?”
He nodded, then hung his head low. “And now it’s too late.”
“Krieger, no.” Damon put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “It’s not. She’ll be fine.” He squeezed gently. “She’s a shifter, right? Met her once, you know. She seemed a little sad. What happened there?”
And so, he told Damon everything. About finding her in the snow all those months ago. How his bear instantly knew who she was. And how he pushed her away. “You know why I had to do that. I couldn’t force her to choose between a life of isolation with me and her real life out here. It wouldn’t have been fair. She would have resented me.”
“Jesus.” Damon sucked in a breath. “I had no idea. Listen—”
“Are you the family of Duchess Forrester?”
Krieger shot to his feet at the sound of the voice. “How is she, Doc?” He said to the older man clad in a white coat. The ID around his neck identified him as Dr. Charles Jenkins.
“And you are?”
“He’s her mate,” Damon offered.
The doctor relaxed. “She’s stable after the surgery. They just moved her into a private room. Four-oh-five. I need to tell you something, though. She’s—”
Krieger didn’t bother to wait for the doctor to finish his sentence. He tore down the hallway, giving the room numbers a cursory glance as he tracked down 405. Bursting into the room, he skidded to a halt at the sight before him.
Dutchy lay on the bed, looking frail and thin, dressed in a drab hospital gown. A machine was hooked up to her nose and mouth helping her breathe, and her left arm was bound in a cast.
A cold wave washed over him. Dr. Jenkins said she’d been in surgery. But why? She was a shifter. He guessed the limo had struck her, but she was still alive when he’d found her. She should have healed with minimum help, even with internal injuries.
“Sir!” Dr. Jenkins, a few nurses, and Damon came into the room.
Blackstone Ranger Guardian: Blackstone Rangers Book 5 Page 5
