Blackstone Ranger Guardian: Blackstone Rangers Book 5

by Alicia Montgomery

  A small bump moved around from under J.D.’s shirt. It wiggled and twitched until something popped up from the neck—a small, feline head with tawny fur, a brown nose with white whiskers, and huge, light hazel eyes.

  Dutchy blinked. “J.D.? You’re a cat?”

  The animal hissed at her and shook its head.

  Well, you sure look like a cat, she thought silently. J.D.’s animal—whatever it was—was about the size of a small domesticated cat. As it emerged from the pile of clothes, she could see the rest of its body was covered in irregular black spots, while stripes ringed around its neck and legs. It was such an unusual coloring for a cat, plus its tail was much shorter too.

  J.D.’s animal sniffed around the bottom of the steel door. Flattening itself, the feline pushed its head through the small gap, then squirmed out.

  Hope soared through her chest. “You did it!” Dutchy exclaimed. “That was amazing! Er … what are you?”

  “No time to explain.” J.D. said through the door. “Shit!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This door … it’s built right into the stone. And there’s a lock. Fuck!”

  Her stomach sank. “J.D. … you have to go.”

  “Go? I can’t leave you! I’ll find the key and—”

  “There’s no time,” she whispered. “They could come back and find you. Please. I’ll be fine.”

  “If they realize I’m gone and you’re still here—”

  “They won’t,” she insisted. “They said they won’t check on us until morning. You’ll be able to head back and get help by then.”

  “But—”

  “Please, J.D.! You know it’s the only way.”

  The silence from the other side of the door lasted for a few heartbeats. “All right. You hang on tight, Dutchy. I’ll get help and come back for you.”

  “I know you will.”

  “And when I come and rescue you, we can go have drinks in The Den.” She could almost see J.D.’s smile. “You’re part of a very special club now.”

  “I am?”

  “Yeah,” she said with a chuckle. “The only ones who know that I’m a—”

  “You can tell me later. At The Den,” she said. “Now go.”

  “All righty. Sit tight, Dutch. I’ll bring the cavalry.”

  “See you, J.D.”

  Dutchy sank down to the ground and hugged her knees to herself. Oh God, please don’t let them come back before J.D. gets help.

  Those men … she couldn’t believe they’d been hiding out here the entire time. And what for? Hunting down shifters and selling them? To whom? She shuddered to think of the fates of those three others they had already succeeded in capturing. And what they might do to her in the morning.

  J.D. would come back with help. But then, the mountains were huge, and J.D. had never been this far up before. I have to be ready. She’d never had to fight before—but as a fox, she’d done plenty of play fighting with the other kits in her skulk.

  Her vixen relished the idea of a fight as it licked its lips. She may not be a bear or a wolf or another apex predator, but she had bite. I’m not giving up so easily. No, not when she now had so much to live for. Her mate. She would go to Krieger, apologize for what happened, and tell him she loved him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Krieger had never been the type of talk about his feelings with anyone. When Damon first started visiting him, it was mostly his former commander who did the talking. Krieger hadn’t felt the need to open up, but Damon’s presence and friendship had inspired him to change. And now, maybe the chief was right. It was time for him to lighten his burden.

  “If she found out what happened … what I did to those two innocent men, she’ll never look at me the same way,” he said. Seeing as Damon didn’t have to go back home until after dinner, they cooked a couple of steaks and then sat out on the now-darkened porch, drinking the last of the beers from the fridge.

  “She’s your mate,” Damon says. “She’ll understand.”

  “But what if she doesn’t? What if she hates me?”

  Damon put his can down. “That’s what I thought would happen if Anna Victoria found out about … about what I did.” Damon had confessed to him about how he had lost control of his bear during a romp with some base bunny after he thought he was ‘cured’ from his PTSD. “So, I pushed my mate away, convinced that I was no good for her. But you know what? She wouldn’t accept that. She fought me tooth and nail and wore me down.” He chuckled.

  “But this is different … there’s no denying I killed two innocent people.”

  “Who were hunting you down for sport,” Damon reminded him. “They knew the consequences of tangling with a wild animal.”

  “But—”

  “Krieg. John.” Damon’s tone was firmer now. “Dutchy is your mate. If she feels anything for you, she’ll understand and accept you for who you are now and what happened in your past. And if she doesn’t, then maybe you guys shouldn’t be together. The mating bond will never form if you’re not fully open and fully committed.”

  His heart thudded in his chest. The thought of not being with Dutchy made something ache in him, but then they might not even have a chance if she rejected him after finding out what a monster he was. “I—”

  His bear’s hackles rising made him stop short. Damon, too, must have sensed the presence approaching them, and he shot to his feet. Something was out there in the darkness.

  A small, glowing green orb floated in the darkness, coming closer until a four-legged creature padded out into the light. The grizzled, one-eyed wolf moved closer, slowly turning into its human form.

  “Milos.” Damon relaxed and so did Krieger. “You’re out late. Care to join us? We don’t have any beer left, though.”

  Milos shook his head. “That is not why I’m here.”

  Krieger immediately noticed the tension in the wolf shifter’s stance. “What’s wrong?”

  “I found a vehicle down the road, stuck in the mud and abandoned.”

  “I didn’t see any car when I drove up,” Krieger said. “Must have come after me.”

  “If the car’s stuck, maybe they went back down to get help,” Damon guessed. “Did you see anyone?”

  Milos shook his head. “No, I think it has been a few hours.” He frowned. “I must tell you something, Chief. What I’ve discovered.”

  “About what?” Damon asked. “Did you find the missing raccoon shifter?”

  “No. But I did find something else.”

  “What?”

  “Patterns. Others who may have disappeared. I asked Petros to check if there are other shifters who have been reported missing in the last few weeks. It turns out there were: an older man, Julius MacKenna, a raven shifter who works as a mechanic in town and a female rabbit shifter named Bridgette Smythe.”

  “So, you think all of them are connected?” Damon asked. “And this car down the road, what about it?”

  “I’ve noticed strange movements in the forest. Smells that should not be there. Tracks that seem abnormal. I’ve been trying to follow the trail, but it keeps eluding me. I am not sure if the abandoned car is connected, but it seems a strange coincidence.” Milos’s nose wrinkled. “But perhaps we should investigate?”

  “I’ll come with you,” Krieger volunteered.

  The three men trudged down the muddy road. About four or five miles down, Krieger spied the blue Honda, stopped at an angle off the trail, as if it had slid down. Rounding to the back, he bent down and inspected the tires. Just as Milos described, it was stuck deep in the mud. But that wasn’t what caught his eye. A few feet away was a trucker cap, half-buried in the mud. Picking it up, he brushed the dirt from the front, revealing a logo that read “J.D.’s Garage.”

  “Chief!” he shouted. “You need to see this.”

  “What is it?” Damon asked he scrambled over. Krieger stood up and showed him the cap. “That’s J.D.’s.”

  “Found it in the mud.”

 
Damon’s jaw hardened. “This isn’t her car,” he said through gritted teeth. “She drives a mint green classic Ford truck.”

  “Then whose car is it?” Milos asked.

  Damon tucked the cap into his back jeans pocket. “Let’s find out.”

  They walked up to the front doors. Krieger was the first to reach the passenger side, so he yanked it open and stuck his head inside. The familiar scent hit him right away. “Fuck!” Reaching for the glovebox, he pulled it open and grabbed the paperwork inside. Sure enough, the registration said the owner was Duchess Marie Forrester. “Motherfucker!”

  “Krieger?” Damon asked as he stuck his head in from the driver’s side. “Whose car is it?”

  “Dutchy’s.”

  “Dutchy? But how?”

  Blood roared in his ears as his bear reared up. Something was definitely wrong. What could have happened? Think. “This morning, she—” Then he remembered. “J.D. had her car. Fixed up a leak for her and rotated her tires, then was going to bring it by this morning.” This morning. After their huge blowup. And now …

  “Krieg? You all right?”

  She’d been so mad at him.

  Asked him to leave.

  But why was her car here?

  He swallowed hard, ice forming in his stomach. “She came up here … to see me.” Despite his hurtful words and his refusal to open up to her, she was coming to him. But she never made it.

  “Where is she, then?” Milos asked. “Why would she come up here to see you, then abandon her car when she got stuck? Couldn’t she have walked up the road to your cabin? From the faintness of their scents, they’ve been gone for hours.”

  “I don’t know.” Krieger curled his fingers into fists. “But I’m gonna find out.” And if someone had taken her—hurt her—they were going to pay.

  “I’m gonna call HQ,” Damon said. “Have them call her or her aunts to see if she’s made it back. J.D., too.”

  “You do that,” Krieger said. “But I’m gonna search the area.”

  “I shall join you as well,” Milos said.

  “I—fine, I’m not gonna argue,” Damon said, resigned. “If it were Anna Victoria, I’d do the same. Stay safe, and if you find anything you can’t handle, come back. We’ll call for—”

  A loud rustling made all three men tense up. They looked at each in silent communication, their animals ready for a fight as they all turned toward the direction of the sound. Slowly, they crept toward the bushes, watching and waiting for whatever would come out.

  Meow!

  A small, furry ball leapt out from the foliage, headed straight for Damon. “What—oh hey!” The chief easily caught the creature. “It’s you,” he said, chuckling. He lifted the thing up and stared into its face. “I was so worried about you. Where have you been?”

  “Damon?” Krieger frowned. “You know this”—he squinted at the thing as it was so tiny—“cat?”

  The creature glared at him, light hazel eyes flashing, then let out a hiss.

  “Shh … don’t be like that,” Damon tucked the fur ball into the crook of his arm. “Sorry. She’s sensitive about her animal.”

  “Who’s sensitive?” Krieger exclaimed, losing his patience.

  “This is—ow!” Damon cried out as the cat dug its claws into his arm. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, fine.” Placing the cat on the ground, he took his shirt off and lay it next to the creature. “Turn around,” he ordered Milos and Krieger.

  “But—”

  “Just do it, okay?”

  Milos and Krieger looked at each other, shrugged, and did as Damon asked. Seconds later, a familiar voice broke the silence of the night.

  “Krieger, you overgrown teddy bear!” J.D. screamed. “How dare you call me a fucking cat!”

  Whirling around, he stared at her, not quite believing it, even though he’d seen it.

  “Now, now, J.D.,” Damon began. “You know not everyone knows what you are.”

  “What are you then?” Krieger asked. Because she sure looked like a fucking cat.

  “FYI”—J.D., dressed only in Damon’s shirt that came down to her knees, sauntered over to him, hand on her hips—“my animal is felis nigripes. Also known as—”

  “The African black-footed cat,” Milos finished.

  “Thank you,” J.D. said with a grateful nod.

  “So … you are a cat,” Krieger concluded.

  J.D.’s face twisted in annoyance, and she let out a snarl. “Don’t you know anything? My animal is the deadliest feline in the world. Sixty percent success rate, averaging ten to fifteen prey a night. That’s one every fifty minutes.”

  “One what? Cricket?”

  “Why you—” J.D. leapt at him, but Damon quickly wrapped his arm around her waist and swung her back.

  “J.D.,” Damon warned. “Stop. What the hell are you doing up here prowling around in your animal form anyway? And where’s Dutchy?”

  J.D. stopped struggling and wrenched herself from Damon’s arms. “Fuck! Sorry. Got distracted.” She lifted her head up to meet Krieger’s eyes. “They have her locked up.”

  “Who?” Krieger’s voice boomed as rage tore through him. “Who has her?”

  J.D. quickly recounted what happened to them and what they had discovered about the poachers, confirming Milos’s theory that the disappearances were indeed connected. “I tried to get her out,” she said with a sniff. “But the door was locked and too heavy. She said I needed to come here and get help.”

  “Goddammit, I’m gonna kill all of them if they hurt her,” Krieger growled. His bear, too, roared in agreement.

  “We should call for backup,” Damon said.

  Krieger shook his head. “If there’s only three of them and three of us—”

  “Ahem,” J.D. cleared her throat and raised a brown at him.

  “Four of us,” he corrected. “We can take them on. Please, Damon, there’s no time to waste.”

  “We should at least assess the situation,” Milos said. “And see if it would be viable for us to attack and rescue the female or retreat and call for assistance.”

  “The abandoned mine’s not too far,” J.D. said. “About … a mile or so up the ridge.”

  “I … all right,” Damon relented. “Let’s go.”

  Krieger knew there wouldn’t be any retreat, but he was glad for the wolf shifter’s suggestion. They followed J.D., who remained in human form, as she led them toward the abandoned mine. As they drew nearer, Krieger could barely contain the seething anger building inside him. We’ll find her, he assured his bear, who was already raring to unleash its power. And then we’ll make those men pay.

  “There.” J.D. pointed out the entrance to the mine. “In there.”

  “We should check the perimeter for—Krieger!”

  No way was he waiting around while his mate was locked up in there with three fucking shifter poachers who were going to kill her by morning. He bolted towards the mine, his bear ripping out of him. The humongous grizzly barely fit though the entrance, but it barreled in anyway. The roar that ripped from its throat reverberated through the narrow chambers, announcing his presence.

  Alarmed cries drifted in from the shaft on the right, followed by the shuffling of feet. The bear rushed toward that direction, its massive body filling the tiny space.

  “What the hel—”

  “It’s a fucking bear!”

  “Grab the tranqs!”

  The mighty grizzly charged forward, catching one man with its left paw. The claws ripped through skin and flesh like tissue paper, and the man’s blood-curdling scream echoed down the chamber. Getting down on all fours, the bear chased the remaining men down the narrow tunnel. Another scream pierced the air as the bear swiped its claws down the second man’s head. It barely stopped, rushing forward as it hunted down its final prey. But the third human was gone. Where did he go?

  “Motherfucker!”

  The man reappeared behind him from an antechamber the bear hadn’t noticed. H
e raised something in his hands—a long-barreled rifle. “Eat lead, monster!”

  Everything happened in an instant. The bear roared and charged forward. A scream of pain. A gunshot. Krieger thought they’d been shot but felt no pain on their body.

  “Goddammit, Krieger! I told you to wait.”

  As the adrenaline seeped from his veins, Krieger’s vision cleared. The man holding the gun was on the floor, blood seeping out from his jugular as the one-eyed wolf stood over him, muzzle dripping with blood. Damon stood behind the wolf, eyeing the grizzly disapprovingly.

  “What the—Jesus titty-fucking Christ!” J.D. exclaimed when she saw the bloodbath. “You—wait!” She crawled over to the man on the ground and reached for something on his waist. “Yes!” She raised her hand triumphantly, shaking a set of keys on a ring. “Let’s go get your mate,” she said to Krieger, then turned around and disappeared down the tunnel.

  By the time he caught up to J.D., he had already shifted into his human form. A pit formed in his stomach as various scenarios ran through his head. Had they discovered J.D. had gone? Did they retaliate by turning on Dutchy? If something had happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

  “I unlocked it, but the door’s too heavy—hey!”

  Krieger pulled the female away from the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it open. “Dutchy? Are you—”

  A loud yip echoed through the air, and a small, red furry ball leapt out from the darkness. Thanks to his shifter senses, he managed to catch the fox in his arms. “Dutchy!” He didn’t care if the fox was protesting at being held in his arms or that its claws were ripping at him. He needed to hold her. To know she was okay.

  “Uh, Krieger?” Damon said. “Maybe you should, uh, let go.” He nodded at the blood dripping down his arms.

  Krieger put the little fox down. “All right, you got what you wanted,” he said to the creature, showing it the wounds on his arms. “Can I have her back now, please?”

  The fox did an indignant little twirl, then settled down, before its limbs began to grow and fur disappeared into skin. “John!” Dutchy cried as she leapt into his arms. “You came for me.”