Blackstone Ranger Guardian: Blackstone Rangers Book 5

by Alicia Montgomery

  “Of course I did,” he said, eagerly lifting her to him. He pushed his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, which calmed his bear down. She was here. She was safe.

  “John, I’m—”

  Damon cleared his throat. “If you guys don’t mind … maybe we should get out of here? Call for the authorities?”

  “Oh my God, I almost forgot!” Dutchy slapped her palm over her forehead. “There was a doe shifter. And the poachers! What if they’ve hurt her? We need—”

  “Shh …” Krieger soothed, running a hand down her smooth back. “The poachers won’t hurt her. They won’t hurt anyone anymore.”

  “But we should find the doe,” J.D. said.

  “I’ll head back to your cabin and call HQ,” Damon said. “You guys find the missing shifter, and maybe see if there are others in here who need help.”

  Krieger wanted to be alone with Dutchy, to tell her so many things and kiss her and hold her. However, when his mate turned to him, her blue eyes filled with joy and understanding, he knew what she was trying to say. That there would be time enough for that. Later then, he thought. “All right, Chief,” he said to Damon. “We’ll get right on it.”

  The doe shifter was quickly found, deeper inside the abandoned mine in another locked antechamber similar to the one where Dutchy and J.D. had been kept. The young woman, whose name was Hannah, was shaken and dehydrated, but otherwise, she was fine. Apparently, she’d been exploring the woods when the two poachers came upon her and shot her with a tranquilizer.

  Backup came not too long after that. Anders and Daniel had both been working the night shift, and so they rushed to Contessa Peak right away. However, they were not the only ones who responded. Jason Lennox arrived with a team of his own from the Shifter Protection Agency—or The Agency—a secret task force that worked to protect their kind where law enforcement and the government fell short.

  J.D. and Dutchy relayed to Jason what they had overheard, that the poachers had found the abandoned mine, used it as their base in the mountains so they could hunt down unsuspecting shifters, then sneak them off so they could be sold.

  The dragon shifter, of course, was not happy to hear that poachers had been operating right under their noses, here in the most sacred of his family’s territory. “We’ll figure out everyone who’s connected to them, where they are, and take them down,” Jason vowed. “And find those missing shifters they sold.”

  The night dragged on as the agents took all their statements, gathered evidence, and catalogued everything. Krieger and Damon also insisted that J.D. and Dutchy be checked out by the medic from the Agency to make sure they were okay. Dutchy had lost her cast when she shifted, but then her arm seemed fine anyway, so they didn’t need to re-cast it.

  A couple of hours later, Jason informed them they could leave and promised to get in touch when they found the missing shifters.

  “Thanks, Jason,” J.D. said, her voice trembling. “Julius … he was one of my most reliable mechanics. I should have known something was up when he just didn’t show up. I just never thought—”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Dutchy said, giving her a side-hug. “No one could. And Bridgette was the same. Aunt Rosie just thought she’d found another job.”

  “It’s been a long night,” Damon declared. “I’m gonna get a ride with Daniel back to HQ. How about you, J.D.?”

  “Yeah, I’ll come with.” The feline shifter turned to Dutchy. “You riding with us?”

  She smiled shyly up at Krieger. “I … I don’t think I’ll need a ride.”

  No, she definitely did not. “I’ll take her back,” he said.

  They said their goodbyes, then Damon and J.D. got into the transport truck with Daniel and Anders and drove off. Finally, they were alone.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Krieger said, offering her his hand.

  “Yes,” she replied, taking it. The warmth of her skin sent a tingle up his arm, all the way to his chest.

  They walked back to his cabin in silence, and Krieger was glad for the cool autumn air that cleared away the scent of blood and death. Arriving at his cabin, they climbed up the porch, hand in hand, their steps in synch.

  A howl came in from the distance, breaking the silence.

  “What—”

  “Milos,” Krieger explained. “Probably out patrolling.”

  Dutchy’s nose twitched. “So, what’s up with him?” she asked. “What’s he doing up here?”

  “I’m not sure,” he replied. “But whatever it is … I think he’s working through it.” And he hoped, that someday, the wolf shifter would be able to conquer his demons. “So, uh, would you like to come in?”

  “Yes.”

  Pushing the door open, he let her go inside first. “Dutchy, I—”

  “No.” She held a hand up. “Let me go first.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, John, for blowing up at you this morning. For thinking the worst of you when you were only trying to help.” Her expression was one of true remorse.

  “You don’t have to say sorry,” he said. “I overstepped my bounds. Invaded your privacy. And I … I shouldn’t have said that about that man in the picture with you.”

  “Oh, John, you don’t have to worry about him.”

  “I know. You had a life before you met me. I was being insecure and hurt. You’re right. I should stop trying to fix you. You don’t have to be fixed, Dutchy. You’re wonderful and perfect, just the way you are.”

  She smiled shyly at him. “I am?”

  “Uh-huh. And I meant what I said. I’ll take care of you. Whatever you want to do, I’ll support you.”

  “Really?

  “Yeah.”

  “And if I never design again?”

  “Then you can do whatever you want. Be what you want to be.”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything.” He took her hands and wrapped them in his. “Anything your heart wants. Be a dancer. A singer. Lawyer. Taxidermist.”

  She giggled. “I don’t know if taxidermists are in demand in Blackstone. What would I do for money?”

  “You wouldn’t need to worry about that,” he said. “I’d take care of you. You can stay home with the cubs and—” He stopped short, realizing what he just said. But the thought of it—Dutchy carrying his cubs, her belly growing round, made something primal in him rejoice. Her silence, however, planted a seed of doubt in his gut. “I didn’t mean … if you … we don’t—”

  “Kits.”

  “What?”

  Tears gathered at the corners of her pale blue eyes. “Foxes … have kits.”

  “Oh. Of course,” he swallowed hard.

  “But I’d like at least one of each,” she finished. “One kit and one cub. To start, anyway.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Dutchy—”

  Her hands reached up and pulled him down for a kiss. Happiness, relief, pure joy, burst from his chest as their mouths melded. Her sweet taste burst on his tongue, like tasting the first sun-ripened berries in the summer. Heat and desire curled in his belly, but more than that, something else stirred inside him. Emotion. True emotions he never thought he’d ever feel. “I love you, Dutchy,” he breathed against her lips.

  “John …” She kissed him deep. “I lov—”

  “Wait.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  It pained him to stop her, but he couldn’t let her say the words without fully knowing the truth about him. “Before you continue … I need to tell you something.” His heart pounded in his chest, and he could only pray that Damon was right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “John?” Dutchy peered up at him. “John, what’s the matter?” Did he not want her to say the words? To return the love she could clearly see in his eyes and feel in her bones?

  “You were right, Dutchy,” he began. “About me keeping things from you. I didn’t want to tell you the truth because I thought you would hate me—”

  “I
could never—”

  “Please, Dutchy.” He grabbed her hands and kissed her palms. “Wait. And listen. And then decide if I’m worthy of you.”

  How could he even think he wasn’t worthy? After all this time and all the things he did to be with her? For her? “All right. Tell me.”

  Taking her hand in his, he pulled her to the leather chair in the corner, sat her down, and knelt in front of her. “When I was in the Special Forces, my commander—Damon—sent me and my team into a market building.…”

  The pain in his eyes was evident as he recounted the events that led to the deaths of his team members and how seeking out justice for them took its toll on him. She wanted to reach out and take all that away. To comfort him and make everything right.

  “I’m sorry for what you went through,” she said, cupping his face. “But you did what you had to do. For your friends who were killed and so those terrorists could never hurt anyone again.”

  “There’s more,” he said, his voice cracking unnaturally. “After that … I couldn’t control my bear. It wanted more blood, more violence. So, I hid out in the mountains, staying far away from anyone who I could hurt. But it didn’t last too long. And I … I killed again.”

  “What happened?” Though dread pooled in her gut, this was what she wanted, right? To know the events that had led him to this state.

  “The villagers … they thought I was a monster. And there was a child.…”

  A myriad of emotions went through her as he continued the story. Pity and sadness for the poor, dead boy. Some sympathy for the parents who, in the misplaced expression of their grief, sought a boogeyman they could blame for their terrible loss. And then, fury toward the men who hunted her mate without so much as giving him a chance to explain or showing him compassion. By the time he was done telling her, tears were pouring down her cheeks.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “Please … not for me …”

  “Don’t cry?” she said, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “How could I not cry for you? Those men … just because they weren’t soldiers you might think they were innocent, but so were you. What were you supposed to do? Wait for them to kill you first? It was self-defense.”

  “They were just misguided and misinformed.”

  “And so, you’ve been keeping yourself prisoner up here, thinking that’s the only way to atone for their deaths? Shutting yourself away from the world—from your mate—because of some misconceived notion of who’s innocent and who’s not? And if you ask me, you’ve already paid for your sins.” She cupped his strong jaw in her palms. “Can’t you see? How many people you’ve saved—me, Anna Victoria, Temperance, Daniel, Darcey, not to mention every lost hiker or shifter up here? I think your ledger’s balanced by now. And it’s time to forgive yourself.”

  In that moment, something changed in him. It was so subtle, yet fundamental, that she could feel the tectonic shift as if it was happening inside her too. “I love you, Krieger. I love everything about you. And yes, you’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”

  Her fox yipped and barked with an emotion she hadn’t felt from it in such a long time that it took her a moment to recognize it: pure, unadulterated happiness.

  Mine, her fox shouted in joy. Mine, mine, mine.

  He must have sensed it too because his eyes widened, and he leapt forward, pulling her into his arms.

  Mine, his bear replied. Mine, mine, mine.

  Then he captured her mouth in a kiss. A heat sizzled inside her, making her skin run warm and cold at the same time. Electric sparks burst inside her, emanating from her chest and moving out to spread all over her body. The kiss continued on and on, lips melding and caressing, tasting and savoring the feeling of being one with their mate. The mating bond formed, fusing their souls into one.

  When they finally pulled away for air and she opened her eyes, another tectonic shift occurred.

  There it was. The indescribable blue that could make the sky jealous.

  “John.” Her voice trembled. “H-have I ever told you that your eyes … they’re so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything as blue as them.”

  He gaped at her. “Dutchy … are you … can you …”

  She nodded. “Yes.” It was overwhelming, all the colors she could see, filling her synapses with information to process. The shades of brown of the cabin’s walls. The hunter green blanket on top of the bed. The riotous array of the book spines lining the shelves. But none of that compared to the sight she’d been longing to see the most. “I love you,” she said, beholding his blue eyes.

  He lifted her up into his arms and carried her to bed. “I love you, too, Dutchy.”

  The sun wasn’t even out when Dutchy’s eyes fluttered awake the next day. Krieger was curled up behind her, arms surrounding her, the delicious warmth from his body reminding her of the hours they spent making love. She could stay like this forever.

  Yet, she had an urge to get up. To do … something.

  He barely stirred when she pried his arms off. Still, it was a feat because they were as heavy as steel. Slipping out of bed, she put on his flannel shirt, then glanced around … looking for … Ah! There. She spotted the yellow legal pad by the CB radio. The top page had various scrawls on it—weather reports, schedules, and a bunch of acronyms and numbers she didn’t recognize. She picked up the pad and the pen from the table, then headed out onto the porch.

  Early dawn dominated the skies when she put pen to blank paper. Her hands moved swiftly, like they had a life of their own, drawing swirls and curves across the lines. By the time she stopped, the sun was peeking out from behind the mountains, painting the landscape with the dazzling blues, purples, and pinks of peak sunrise.

  “What’s that?”

  She didn’t start at Krieger’s voice. No, she already knew he’d been behind her for a while now. Her hand and brain were just too focused on the task. “What do you think?” She held up the pad and turned to him.

  He was leaning on the doorjamb, jeans over his hips but unbuttoned, arms crossed over his chest as his gorgeous blue eyes fixed on her. “Beautiful.”

  A blush covered her from head to toe. “I mean the dress.” She stood up and thrust the yellow pad at him.

  His brows wrinkled as he perused her sketch. “It’s uh, a nice dress.”

  “It’s for Temperance. Her wedding dress,” she explained. “It just kind of came to me … and I had to get it down.” Temperance. She loved the name, and how it suited her nature. This dress too, with its trumpet silhouette and elegant lines, would show off the baker’s natural beauty, allow her to shine. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

  He took a step forward and slipped his arms around her waist. “I think she’ll love it,” he said before his mouth descended on hers.

  As she melted against him, her inner vixen, too, rejoiced. Oh, you smart creature, she said to her fox. It became clear to her now why it had hated him so. Krieger didn’t break her. No, he broke her animal’s trust. And, even when they had initially reconciled, it sensed that he wasn’t ready for the mating bond. The sly little fox knew that he was still keeping something from them, something so important that would have made them both miserable if it continued to fester and prevent the bond from forming. The vixen didn’t want only half of him—it wanted all of him, heart, mind, and soul—scars and all.

  When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to hers. “What are you thinking of, when you should only have one thing on your mind when I’m kissing you?”

  She chuckled. “Make me breakfast and I’ll tell you.”

  Epilogue

  The Blackstone Rangers Headquarters’ outdoor cafeteria hall was dressed to the nines in full fall regalia. Maple leaf-shaped streamers hung across the ceiling, crisscrossed with orange, red, and yellow fairy lights. Scarecrows were propped up in every corner, and pumpkins and gourds of all kinds, along with branches of maple leaves, sunflowers, and cornstalks were used as centerpieces on the tables that were pushed toge
ther to stretch across the room. A banner on the far wall greeted anyone who came in with Happy Thanksgiving.

  Of course, the best feature of the place was the backdrop featuring the mountains. Though the leaves had mostly turned yellow and brown as the trees were preparing for the winter, it was still a stunning sight.

  “Did you need more pine cones?” Dutchy asked Krieger as they sat at one of the tables, finishing the decorations. Beside them, Anna Victoria, Damon, Gabriel, and Temperance formed a kind of assembly line to finish up more decorative wreaths.

  “Nah, all good,” he said. His job was to glue the pine cones at the bottom of the wreath, a job that was mercifully idiot-proof because he had zero artistic talent.

  “Thank you again for doing this, Dutchy,” Damon said. He was at the end of the line, as he was assigned to put hooks on the backs of the wreaths. The Chief had even less artistic inclination than Krieger, if that were possible.

  “You’re welcome, Damon,” Dutchy said. “Happy to do it.”

  Dutchy had volunteered to decorate the cafeteria for the Thanksgiving celebration. Actually, it wasn’t the actual day, but the day before. However, it was tradition for the rangers to throw a Thanksgiving celebration for the employees and their families before everyone went off for the holiday. Krieger had never attended the party—nor had he been to any kind of holiday get-together in years. This year, though, he and Dutchy were flying out tonight on the red eye to Minnesota to spend the long weekend with his family.

  His mother and grandmother had practically been in tears when he called home to tell everyone about Dutchy and that they’d be coming home for the holidays. Of course, when he asked if he could have the family ring as he was going to ask Dutchy to marry him when they got there, the two women cried buckets and promised to make sure the Krieger family heirloom would be ready and polished.

  Nervous energy filled him now, thinking of when he would ask her. Should he do it tomorrow as soon as they woke up? Or during dinner? Should he wait until after, when Thanksgiving was over so their engagement wouldn’t be upstaged by the biggest holiday of the year?