THE COUGAR'S BABY - 3

C H A P T E R T H R E E - - - S H A U N

It's taking longer than expected.

Shaun's body thrummed with the first stings of anxiety as the thought hammered in the back of his mind. Nothing was worse than watching a carefully planned hit go to shit, but what if it went wrong and took far too long? That's when things got dicey. Ammo may run out, reinforcements may arrive, someone may be injured, and there may be no way to extract them. As soon as time became an issue, the chances of failure began to mount.

"Cat Four. What exactly is going on? " Shaun inquired, his voice low and growling.

"Cat Five and Cat Two have been apprehended. The targets have built a bunker in the warehouse. Getting rid of resistance pockets on the outside. Do you have a clear shot on anyone in the warehouse, Cat Four? ”

Jerome's voice came across the line strained and irritated. It didn't take long to realize that Shaun wasn't the only one who was tense about the situation. He looked through the scope at the warehouse, seeing fleeting shadows on the walls but not a single person he could have shot.

They were all pressed up against the walls, far away from windows and doors. He could theoretically try his luck and shoot through the wall, but there was no telling if he'd actually hit anything.

"Cat Four is a negative. "I'm going to switch nests."

Shaun's stomach lurched as the words left his mouth, but he knew it had to be done. He quickly disassembled the rifle, packing it away in about ten seconds before lugging it up on his back. His boots hit the soft ground below as he slid down the tree in complete silence, and he took off in a soundless run. Being a shifter had its advantages in their line of work, and stealth was one of them.

The heat of the fires raging below him could be felt all the way up on the bank he stood on. He scrambled up a rocky ledge, flung the gun in front of him, and then clambered up after it, gaining a new perspective on the warehouse and its residents that wasn't obstructed by fire.

Shaun quickly reloaded the weapon, noticing that the sun was rising. When he threw himself down on his stomach and got into his position, he heard a new sound, one he hadn't heard before that night. Crawling into the underbrush in search of the camp, car tires.

Shit. That was just what we needed.

“Cat Four. Possible reinforcements, vehicle sighted," he stated into the radio, noticing movements on the far right but too concealed by trees to distinguish who or how many were in the automobile.

“Noted. The warehouse is the goal, I repeat, the warehouse is the goal."

Shaun nodded and scanned the windows one by one. The folks inside were generally sitting quietly, but when the car approached, they began to move. Shaun noticed someone attempting to peer out again, not satisfied with one glance but looking for another.

He murmured beneath his breath, pressing the trigger, "Got you."

The man was slumped over with half of his body outside the warehouse while a cloud of red covered the exterior wall. When he took another aim, Shaun noticed him jerk once and experience throat drying. However, that shot had been effective. The automobile was approaching, and whomever was inside no longer felt secure. Four individuals suddenly emerged from the warehouse, racing at top speed while attempting to zigzag between the structures.

Shaun fired again, but this time it smacked into the ground behind a man's heel, making him swear. Three guys, followed by the smaller, leaner shape of a lady, were all he could count. His hair trigger instinctively aligned on the woman's shoulder blades as he took aim. He attempted it, but his hand stumbled. He was prevented from firing by something inside of him.

He took a sharp intake as she peered over her shoulder, her emerald eyes flashing—he somehow knew they were green, even from this distance. She was stunning, to put it simply. Even when drenched in perspiration, the woman's long, black hair bounced up and down over her shoulders. high cheekbones and somewhat almond-shaped eyes. her body, too? It was almost comical how close his jaguar came to forcing its way out of him and charging down to tackle her. Curvy and luscious, yet yet powerful and competent.

“The fuck’s wrong with you,” he growled to himself, shaking his head.

Shaun liked women just as much as the next guy locked in a goddamn sandpit for months on end, but no woman had ever so badly affected his thinking or, worse still, his aim as she did. Whether they were male or female, soldiers were still soldiers, in his eyes. But she? The way her arms were tense as she ran beside the men, the way her full lips were squeezed into a narrow line as she peered back and searched... It was very hypnotic.

He growled into the comm, struggling mightily to restore consciousness, "Cat Four, targets on the move."

The Jeep smashed into the property at that same moment as gunshots rained down all around it. Shaun's heart skipped a beat as he saw the automobile roar into the space directly in front of Jordan, trapping him between the car and the four people sprinting in its direction while keeping Tom, who had been with him but was now on the other side of the car, out of view.

The rest of Squad Six desperately tried to distract the thugs with enough gunfire to give Jordan a fighting chance, but it seemed virtually inevitable that they would lose one guy this time, despite their best efforts. Shaun's palms were moist with sweat as he pushed his eye to the scope and saw a shadowy figure in the car. He pressed before he knew if he had a clean shot or not, not caring. The way the Jeep jerked to the side and nearly collided with a building told him he'd at least bought them another second.

Even yet, Jordan was still being pursued by the four individuals, at least three of whom were armed. He had knelt down because he realized he was trapped and was aiming at the group. Jordan, however, collapsed and screamed as blood spurted out of his right hand after taking a fortunate hit to it. When things looked their worst, Jerome trusted each member of his unit to make the proper choices, thus the comms were deathly silent.

But it wasn't Squad Six who came to Jordan's aid that night. Shaun just had one bullet left, so he selected the one nearest to Jordan. He started reloading as soon as he fired the trigger, his gaze fixed on the action. One of the big, burly men took aim, and Shaun expected to see his friend's skull split apart like a watermelon, but it never occurred.

The lady who'd run so stoically with the guys tackled the guy with the pistol, as if she'd changed in front of his eyes. She was quick and brutal. Kicking the barrel up, she jerked forward, yanking the guy almost twice her size over her shoulder and onto the ground with her elbow. She snatched the rifle from his grip and stamped her buttocks on his neck, aiming towards the last man standing.

But he was also quick. She didn't even get a chance to fire when the guy smacked her across the face with the stock, knocking her to the ground. Shaun had never been so furious in his whole life. When the car spun around and the guy who'd taken down the girl climbed in, pulling his half-conscious companion with him, the bullets snapped into place.

The Jeep made a sharp curve, almost missing Jordan and the girl, who were spread out on the dusty campground ground. The Jeep was riddled with bullets as it sped away with at least three individuals still alive inside. The truck was armor-plated, as shown by the scratch of metal and the high-pitched noises of rounds flying wide. Shaun had to consider himself fortunate that he'd packed bigger toys than the adversary had anticipated. Things could have been a lot worse if he hadn't gotten that shot and taken out the driver.

“All units, move in. "Man down," Jerome said dryly, no doubt in his voice.

Shaun put his gear together, vibrating with wrath. It has been a long time since a Squad Six assignment went so horribly wrong. He was used to seeing trash like this in the military, but with Jerome and the rest of the lads, it was unusual.

There was no one to blame either. Their recon had given them all they needed to know, or so they believed, and they'd misjudged the fuckers they'd faced.

It hit me square in the face.

Shaun was rushing through the bush, his breathing steady and his eyes filled with hatred. He drew out his handgun as he reached the perimeter, which was still lighted with burning fires, because there was no communication on the comms.

She'd better be OK.

As he went onto the grounds, skulking past the homes, the notion hit him like a freight train. Most of them had been moved out by the rest of the squad before the Jeep arrived, but one couldn't be too sure. He didn't need to get capped by some overzealous moron now when the game was almost done.

He arrived in time to watch Tim and Tom drag Jordan onto a field stretcher, Jordan's face distorted with rage and anguish. Of course, the medic was the one who had half his hand blown off. Jerome was kneeling next to the girl, and Shaun could feel the air becoming more charged with each step closer to her. Even when she was lying prone with her lips open and her eyes closed, she had a pull on him that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"What happened to Mitch?" Shaun questioned, bending down next to Jerome, his gaze following Tim and Tom as they carried Jordan away.

Tim was bleeding from his shin, and Tom was gripping his shoulder, but the Crawleys weren't going to be held back by a few flesh wounds. It seemed as if Shaun was trying to avoid staring directly at the woman on the ground in front of him, as if she were the sun and gazing at her would blind him. Shaun felt a tight and intense rush of envy as Jerome placed his fingers on her pulse.

"Just in case, he's emptying out the side buildings. You already know how those two are. If Jordan goes insane and Mitch notices it, we might have to sedate Mitch before punching Jordan out," Jerome said, his eyes clouded.

"This entire thing went to shit, huh?" Shaun said dryly, glancing down at the woman.

When he looked at her face up close, it took his breath away; so peaceful, but so determined.

"You could repeat that," Jerome agreed. "Did you chance to notice what happened to Jordan?" ”

"He became entangled between the Jeep and the warehouse employees." "I took one of them out," Shaun replied, gazing to the left to see the lifeless body of a large guy who was halfway through his transformation into a wolf.

When shifters were terminally injured, they'd sometimes let the animal take over in the hopes of making it out before their strength ran out. A predator on adrenaline might accomplish far more than a human. This person hadn't been that fortunate. Shaun's brow furrowed. A wolf. It's not surprising.

"However, it was her who saved Jordan."

“Yeah?

" Jerome inquired, frowning as he raised his head to study the surroundings around them.

"She tackled the guy with the gun and took him out. She's not some random drug addict and dealer, lieutenant. She has experience."

"Do you believe she's one of us? " Jerome inquired, cocking his brow.

"She's not one of them, for sure," Shaun grumbled.

Before curtly nodding, Jerome appeared to consider this for a little moment. Shaun was aware of the procedure. If she was found in a situation like this, they were meant to shoot her in the head and forget she ever existed. However, she had saved one of their brothers, which had to at least be cause for a brief investigation.

“Fine. Tag and bag the person. Given that we didn't really have a clean sweep, I believe we require someone to question.”

Shaun nodded in agreement while adjusting the strap on the bulky sniper backpack.

After standing up and checking his ammunition, Jerome sent out a low whistle, which was answered by a similar whistle from behind them. There had to be Mitch. Shaun was briefly left alone with his sleeping beauty when Jerome departed at a brisk jog. He considered phoning the Crawleys so that someone might arrive with a stretcher, but the idea of another man being close to her made his skin crawl.

Instead, he tenderly scooped her up and cradled her to his chest by looping his arms under her shoulders and legs. His entire being was electrified. Her head flopped into his shoulder, and as Shaun inhaled, his jaguar roared with the utmost ferocity and darkness he had ever experienced.

He owned her. That much was decided by the large cat.

Now all that remained was for the person to board.