The other soldier ran around them, coming straight for Nessa. Her vision was fuzzy, and her head hurt. Blood flowed down her neck to soak her blouse. She'd lost her gun in the fight, but she reached for a knife from her boot.
The soldier smiled and yanked out his own knife.
His was bigger.
He circled her, his movements fluid and graceful. She waited, her heart thundering, her stance set.
He charged.
She only had one chance. Pivoting, she dodged back and then in, drawing her knife across his jugular. He grabbed his neck and dropped to his knees, his eyes bugging out behind the mask. Drawing on strength she hoped she had, she kicked him in the temple. His eyelids fluttered shut, and he fell sideways.
He smelled like shifter. The guy would live, but he'd need some time to recover.
She stumbled back.
Bear reached her, blood flowing from a cut in his lip. "You okay?" He sounded very far away.
"Aye," she said, her hand going to her neck again. She had to stem the blood.
"Where the fuck is plan B?" Bear yelled.
Lights pierced the clouds above, and a Mil Mi-24 attack helicopter descended rapidly and landed. Nessa stilled in place. What? This was Bear's plan B? The side opened, and Bear hustled her aboard, pushing her into a seat along the wall and buckling her in. The pilot turned and nodded. "Stay here," Bear ordered.
She coughed, her brain shutting down as her body tried to repair itself. "My uncle. Don't leave him here with the darts." Those darts would kill witches. Was he okay? He had to be all right. She shuddered. "George, too. He's a witch."
Bear turned and ran back into the building. Seconds later, he ran out with her unconscious uncle over his shoulder. Lucas, Garrett, and Logan followed with the two shifter pilots from Bear's other helicopter on their heels. Thank goodness they were okay. They all jumped in, and instantly the helicopter rose off the ground. Bear dumped Boondock on the floor and moved to sit by Nessa.
She raised her head. "George?" she croaked out.
"He's fine. The Guard soldiers took him," Bear said, reaching to hold her hand. "He wasn't hit with any darts."
"Y-you have an attack helicopter," she whispered, her throat on fire.
He tightened his hold. "I'm the leader of the grizzly nation, sweetheart. I have several attack helicopters." His free hand reached for her head, and he tugged her toward his shoulder. "Close your eyes and heal your neck. Now."
"This is such a mess," she mumbled. "Is everyone okay?" Blackness dotted her vision.
"Yes. But you owe me a plane now."
A truck and a plane. She passed out with a smile on her face.
Chapter 20
Bear stretched awake, his body feeling like his own again. If his mate hadn't been in danger the night before, he might've actually enjoyed the fight. There was so much intrigue to figure out that he just wanted to bury his face in Nessa's fragrant hair and stay there all day.
She'd slept the entire way home, even while he'd brought her to the cabin on the four-wheeler. Good thing he'd had Lucas put the plastic roof on it.
The fire popped across the room, and a quick glance out the window showed a nice snowfall . . . puffy and mellow. The wind had given up the fight for a time, and the day almost seemed peaceful. Oh, it wouldn't end up that way, he just knew it. There was one key question that had bothered him before he slept. Who would've sent soldiers with Apollo darts after Nessa? More important, who had known where to find her? It hadn't seemed that George had wanted her dead, so who was this outside threat?
Maybe the dart soldiers were George's plan B. If so, and that was the only thing that really made sense, then he should've killed George. Now he had to hunt George down to kill him. Bear sighed.
She murmured and stretched against him, her smooth legs rubbing against his as she rolled onto her stomach and stretched her arms up, her face toward him.
"Morning," he rumbled, sliding his hand down her back to cup her butt.
Her eyes opened, blue and a little cloudy. They slowly cleared. "Bear."
Yeah. Bear. He squeezed, letting his hand roam. Arousal spiraled through him, but he kept his movements gentle. His woman had been hurt the night before, and although he'd felt her healing herself for a couple of hours last night, he needed to be gentle with her. She deserved it. "A couple of things became clear to me last night," he said, appreciating her other buttock.
She arched an eyebrow. "What became clear and why is your hand on my rear?"
He grinned at the rhyme. "My hand is on your rear because your butt is tight and firm." He caressed her, enjoying the interest that leaped into her eyes. "As for what became clear, you did. Sweet little healer raised by a half-crazy uncle witch who set her up in an op the previous night instead of just tracking her down to find her." Bear could see her clearly as a kid being raised by the lunatic. "The man is a crackpot." No wonder she seemed so alone sometimes.