A Lion Shame (Bear Creek Grizzlies Book 3) (10 page)

Zoe stared at Tate as if he'd grown a second head. And the mountain lion started calculating the odds that he could beat the shit out of a bear.

When neither of them spoke, Tate took another deep breath. "I wasn't looking for her. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Zoe burst into tears and lurched forward to hug him, her belly almost knocking Tate back a step even though he braced himself, and he hugged his sister as she babbled something about being happy for him. But Simon watched him with a touch more wariness. "Is she the girl you told us about, the one who showed up with drugs in her car?"

"What?" Zoe leaned back to stare up at him, and Tate braced himself for more of an explanation. Not that he wanted to do that in the street.

Before he could open his mouth, a scream cut through the quiet street. Sarah Jane. Rosie. Dakota. Tate spun, boots sliding on the icy sidewalk, and tried to run to help her. He knew it was her, and he knew it was bad. The lion threatened to break free when they couldn't move fast enough, and Simon bellowing behind him didn't help. Tate couldn't breathe, dreading what he would see as he finally reached the door and bolted up the stairs.

S
J pushed away
uncertainty at Tate's reaction when his sister and brother-in-law stopped them in the street. Something made her wonder if he wasn't ready for his family to know about her. She tried not to think about it, or at least save those questions until breakfast, and flipped the switch for the light in the narrow stairs up to Rosie's apartment. It didn't work.

Frowning, she climbed the stairs. That wasn't like Rosie, to leave a broken bulb in place. She got to the landing outside the apartment and all the feeling left her legs. The door sat ajar. Cracked open.

She shoved it open and lurched forward, into the apartment, and fell to her knees. Blood. Blood everywhere. The kitchen table shattered, the chairs overturned, and half the kitchen cabinets torn off. SJ couldn't breathe. Dakota. Dakota.

She ran through the apartment, her shoes sliding in blood, and screamed as she checked each room. She searched the closets, the beds, under the beds, everywhere. Everywhere. Dreading that she would find her baby hurt or dead. But she wasn't there.

Dakota wasn't there.

SJ screamed until her vision went dark, stumbling into the living room again, and something moved in the kitchen. A bloody heap she'd missed because it blended into the beige tile. A mountain lion, torn to ribbons. SJ stared at it, unblinking, unable to process what happened. What was happening. Dakota. She had to find Dakota.

And then the door flew open and Tate was there, face white. He stared around at the mess and immediately knelt by the injured mountain lion, ripping off his scarf and shirt to apply pressure to the wounds. SJ couldn't move as Tate said, "It'll be okay, Rosie. We'll get you to the hospital. You'll be fine."

Rosie. Rosie? She was a mountain lion too?

SJ couldn't think, couldn't speak or move or do anything. Tate roared something over his shoulder and then the strangers from the street were in the apartment, taking up too much space. The pregnant girl, Zoe, pulled out her phone and called someone to report the emergency, though big fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched Tate work on keeping Rosie alive.

The big bearded man caught SJ's shoulders and walked her over to the only kitchen chair that remained upright. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Was anyone in here when you arrived?"

"No," SJ said, and didn't know what question she answered. Her hands shook as she tried to push to her feet, unwilling to sit there as her entire world fell apart. "Dakota. Dakota is missing."

"The baby? I'll look again for her." Simon gently kept her in the chair, gesturing for his wife to take his place, then he moved through the apartment with surprising speed.

Tate cursed and dragged a black medical bag out of the cabinet under the sink, throwing things around until he draped Rosie in yards of white bandages and multicolored tape. Zoe held SJ's hand in silence, and SJ concentrated every part of her being on breathing. Keeping her heart beating. Dakota was missing. Missing. While SJ was having fun with Tate. And Rosie was injured, bleeding, dying. Dying.

Her sinuses burned and tears leaked from her eyes, leaving scalding trails down her cheeks, as SJ stared at the bloody mess in Rosie's kitchen. She'd fought to protect Dakota. She'd fought until they almost killed her.

Simon returned from his search, shaking his head. "The baby isn't here. It smells like there were men here, at least three. Strangers."

Tate growled something, moving over Rosie and trying to straighten the mountain lion's legs. "Check the door and the counter. They'll have left a note."

SJ stared at his back. How the fuck did he know that?

Simon pulled a smeared note from the back of the door, taking a deep breath before he read it. "We have your kid. If we don't have the delivery in twenty-four hours, she's dead and you're next." He folded the paper and put it in his pocket. "They left a phone number."

Tate said, "We have to get Rosie to the hospital."

"I'll pull the truck around," Zoe said, and moved surprisingly quickly down the stairs for a pregnant woman.

"I'm a nurse," SJ said, trying to shake off the oppressive grief. Dakota missing and Rosie grievously hurt. "I can — help her."

"You've done enough." Tate didn't look at her, but SJ recoiled as if struck. He said something to Rosie, who groaned and moved, and then she returned to her human form. Tate kept talking to her, though he snapped over his shoulder, "Get her some clothes. Something to cover her."

Simon said, "Dude, watch the tone."

"She's dying," Tate said. "We don't have time."

SJ moved woodenly into the bathroom to retrieve an armful of towels, and as she handed them to Tate in silence, Rosie moved. She reached for SJ, and tears blurred the older woman's eyes. "Honey, I tried. They took her. I tried to stop them. I'm so sorry, I couldn't —"

She coughed and blood coated her lips, and SJ fell to her knees. "I'm sorry, Rosie, I never thought —"

"We don't have time." Tate scooped Rosie up and nearly knocked SJ out of the way, despite Simon's grumble, and he carried the injured woman down the stairs. SJ stood there, staring at where they'd gone, until Simon herded her out of the destroyed apartment and to the waiting car.

Zoe sat in the back, where most of the seats had been folded down in preparation, and Tate carefully slid Rosie into the back before getting into the driver's seat. Simon climbed in up front, and motioned for SJ to get in the back, next to Zoe. When she hesitated, Tate nearly drove off without her. Only a sharp word from Simon kept his foot on the brake. SJ couldn't process what was happening; she could barely get her arms and legs to work together.

She managed to get inside and sat next to Rosie, and something clicked in her head. The nursing training took over as Zoe handed her another medical bag, and SJ latched on to the things she knew. Pulse, respiration, stop the bleeding. She worked in silence, fighting off tears whenever she stopped to think about who she worked on. Zoe handed her water and fresh towels and bandages whenever she needed them, but SJ really hoped the hospital was a lot closer than the department store that Rosie had mentioned, otherwise... She pushed away the thought.

Everything would be fine. Rosie would be fine. She'd get Dakota back unharmed and perfect. Everything would be fine. It became a mantra in her head as Tate drove too fast and Simon told him to slow down and Zoe told them to stop fighting, and the entire world narrowed down to the sound of Rosie's labored breathing and the flutter of her pulse against SJ's fingertips.

T
ate went
into crisis mode the moment he saw Rosie's broken body on the kitchen floor. All that mattered was keeping her breathing, keeping her heart beating, stabilizing her so they could move. He remembered snapping at Sarah Jane and Simon both, but didn't give a shit. All that mattered was getting Rosie to the hospital.

Tate drove, every cell in his body focused on the road ahead and avoiding the icy patches that still plagued every surface, and ignored the whispers as Sarah Jane and Zoe looked after Rosie. They didn't run ambulances to town from the big hospital, but it was faster for him to drive anyway. Everyone knew it. Waiting for the ambulance usually meant you were dead when they arrived.

Simon tried to talk to him once but Tate only growled, hunching forward over the steering wheel. Rosie would be fine. She had to be fine. He couldn't imagine Bear Creek without her sardonic wit and sparkling smile. He didn't want to think about what life would be like, if Rosie didn't come back from the hospital. Another growl escaped, the mountain lion enraged to the point of near meltdown, and his vision flashed red before Tate managed to regain control.

The truck careened into the open bay of the small county hospital's emergency wing, and he kicked his door open almost before the damn thing was in park. Tate yelled for a gurney, shouting the injuries that Rosie sustained, and threw open the back door so he could lift her out. He hardly looked at Sarah Jane, unable to deal with the pain in her eyes when Rosie's barely fluttered opened. It was all Sarah Jane's fault. If she hadn't shown up in town with the drugs, none of it would have happened. His mate might have gotten one of his best friends killed.

Tate strode into the emergency room and finally nurses and orderlies and doctors surrounded them, sliding a gurney up and helping him lay Rosie on the clean white sheets. He watched, arms loose and numb at his sides, as they rolled Rosie into the back, behind a curtain, and machines started beeping and wailing into the silence. His heart slowed as the room began to swirl around him, as if he was underwater and nothing could reach him directly. Tate stared at the curtains as if he could see through them.

Rosie had to be okay.

He didn't turn as noise revealed the Zoe and Sarah Jane hobbled into the ER and made their way to one of the ugly couches in the waiting area. Tate tensed as Simon moved up behind him, the alpha bear's voice low. "Take a deep breath, man. They've got it."

Tate clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. "We start hunting. Now."

"Tate —"

"The note." Tate faced him, holding out his hand. "Let me see it."

"There's no scent on it. We won't be able to track anything from —"

"Let me see it." Tate waited, unfeeling and numb, until Simon pulled the paper from his pocket and handed it over. Tate stared at it, almost unable to read the blood-smeared paper, then pulled out his cell phone. He'd debated who to call, whether the criminals or the cops were better suited to handle a situation like this one but in the end, he knew the only way to keep Bear Creek and his friends safe was to split the difference. Someone who balanced on a fine line of being a federal agent but one who was known to skirt the rules occasionally. Tate dialed, not saying anything to Simon, and waited for the phone to ring three times before hanging up. He studied his watch, waiting exactly fifty seconds, then called him back. After four rings, someone picked up but didn't speak. That was the deal. No one called that number unless they knew what to do and say. Tate stared at the wall but didn't see anything on it. "Killswitch. It's Rooster. I need a favor."

The silence stretched, then the languid drawl of a rogue DEA agent reached him through a slight hiss. "Rooster. Long time no see, buddy. What do you need?"

"Location on a cell phone. Prepare to copy." He waited for Killswitch's grunt, then repeated the number from the note the kidnappers left. Tate crumpled the note in his fist and almost threw it back at Simon. "It's crisis, man. Faster than ASAP."

"Give me a couple minutes," the guy said, and the line went dead.

Tate put away his cell phone, turning in a slow circle as he tried to figure out what to do next. Once Killswitch sent him the location of the cell phone, they could get the bears together and go fuck up the bastards who took the baby and attacked Rosie. Simon caught his arm and tried to drag him into the waiting room. "Chill out, dude."

"There's no time for that." Tate growled, ready to start a brawl despite the witnesses around them. "We have messes to clean up. We can't wait."

"Sit down," Simon said, and there was enough oomph in his voice that Tate almost obeyed.

It was only when Zoe looked at him, her eyes filled with tears, that Tate finally complied and collapsed into one of the chairs several feet down from where Sarah Jane sat. He couldn't look at her. Zoe comforted Sarah Jane while Simon sat down between them and Tate, creating a barrier that prevented Tate from focusing on either of them. He couldn't sit still. He didn't want to sit still. The mountain lion seethed, wanting to be let loose to chase down the sons of bitches who took the cub.

Simon glanced around to see who was close enough to overhear their conversation, then lowered his voice. "You want to tell me who was on the other end of that phone call?"

"A guy who knows how to find things. And people." Tate didn't blink or look at him. Killswitch would find the phone, they would find the kidnappers, and everything would be fine. Tate repeated it, trying to convince himself. "That's all you want to know."

"And once we find these guys, we're going to...?"

Tate felt Zoe and Sarah Jane watching him, but he didn't care. His fist clenched and relaxed on his knee, the only way he could keep himself in his seat. The pain in his joints helped him focus. "We're going to get the baby back. We're going to get rid of the shit in the car. And then
she
is going to leave town. For good."

No one had to ask which 'she' he meant. Sarah Jane paled but didn't speak. She didn't move. Zoe, though, leaned forward. "Look, asshole."

Tate blinked, and half the nurses at the nearby nursing station looked up. The pregnant lady didn't give a shit, but she lowered her voice anyway. "It is
not
her fault."

"If she didn't show up with this shit, Rosie wouldn't be back there getting stitched up, fighting for her life. That baby is innocent, it's not her fault, and we're damn well going to save her, but that's it. We can't have this crazy shit in Bear Creek. We won't." He folded his arms over his chest, fighting the urge to walk away.

A muscle in Sarah Jane's jaw jumped as she ground her teeth, and she carefully moved Zoe out of the way so she could focus on Tate, even though he refused to look at her. Her voice didn't shake, and neither did her hands as she confronted him. "Don't you dare judge me. We all make choices in life, and yes, some of mine weren't the best. But I didn't have a lot to work with starting out. I'm doing the best I can and I'm working my ass off to make things better. But I can't rewind. I can't undo some of the things I've done. I made my peace with that. But fuck you if you're going to sit there and judge me for it. That's your problem, not mine."

Tate turned and stared at her halfway through the rant, the mountain lion nearly shocked into silence that she challenged him so directly. He opened his mouth to argue or counter or just agree with her that it was a shitty situation, but Zoe launched forward again, eyes going gold as the mama bear reared up.

"I could have easily been in Sarah Jane's shoes, Tate, and don't you for a second think that I didn't have to make some tough choices. How dare you?" Zoe's lips thinned to a knife clash across her rounded face, and she looked ready to simply deck him. Instead, she pointed at the wide, automatic doors to the ER. "You should probably go take a walk and see if you can pull your head out of your ass."

Tate stared at her, furious and ashamed at the same time, and couldn't move. But she didn't budge, her arm unwavering as she continued showing him the way out, and when Tate expected some support from his old battle buddy, Simon had nothing to say. The alpha bear sat silently next to him, but his expression remained passive behind the beard.

Tate shoved to his feet and strode out into the freezing night air, wanting to put his fist through something. Zoe didn't understand. She saw the girl and the baby and got lost in a sad story. Sarah Jane represented a whole slew of poor life choices, and Tate had his own bad choices to deal with in spades. He didn't need a mate who also suffered from terrible judgment.

He still stalked the perimeter of the parking lot when Killswitch called back, and Tate's heart climbed to his throat as the crooked agent started with, "I've got good news and bad news."

Tate braced himself for the worst.