Polar Bared by Eve Langlais

shooter hid. He didn’t spot him immediately, but even dressed in varying shades of white, Gene made a good target.
    The next enemy bullet tore a furrow through his jacket and left a bloody gouge along his upper arm. But his enemy had made a mistake. Gene noted the shooter’s position.
    Off he took running, zigzagging erratically to make himself a harder target. Over and over, he fired his pistol at the enemy’s location.
    Score! A yelp of pain and the return fire stopped.
    A fierce grin split his lips. I’ve got you now.
    Actually, what he got was a dead body.
    Fuck. Gene stood over the human whose eyes stared sightlessly, the shot to his chest having caused a massive bleed out, which meant no answers. As if Gene needed any.
    It seemed the one he’d chosen to quit working for had hired some thugs to try and take him out.
    And humans at that. What an insult. As if the Ghost would succumb to such an unworthy opponent.
    It will take more than a human to take me down.
    Funny how a certain pair of brown eyes came to mind as he thought it. Never, never would he succumb to the allure of a woman. Any woman. No matter how sweet she looked. Despite how she attracted him.
    Now if only he could convince his bear, who seemed to think Gene would change his mind if he gave her a few licks.
    She’s not candy. But he’d bet she tasted sweet.
    Dammit, he needed to get rid of her, the sooner, the better—before he did something stupid, like give in to temptation.

Chapter Eight
    More bad luck. Vicky truly was plagued, and not just since she’d come on this expedition.
    Her run of misfortune had begun months ago, starting with the incident involving the brakes on her car. The mechanic had stated she was lucky to be alive given the fluid in the line had leaked out. The tree she hit didn’t fare very well, and neither did the front end of her car. The bruises on her face took weeks to heal because, as it turned out, airbags weren’t as soft and cushy as they appeared.
    Then there was the carbon monoxide debacle. The bird’s nest might have completely blocked the outlet pipe on her gas-powered hot water tank, but the alarm she’d invested in after hearing a story on the news totally saved her life.
    Oh and she shouldn’t forget the car that sideswiped her when she was out riding her new bike. The poor bush she landed in would never be the same.
    It seemed since Rick’s death she’d survived more than her fair share of mishaps and now this. Someone shooting at her. Well, technically shooting at her and Gene, but still, there were bullets aimed in her direction.
    It was a wonder she remained conscious. She also had to wonder about her rescuer. Her hero was turning out to have a dark side.
    Heroes didn’t cuss or bark or have guns that they pulled out without a qualm to shoot with. Less hero, more like villain I think. What have I gotten myself into? Had she accidentally wandered into something deadly? Was her tough knight some kind of criminal or fugitive? Maybe a drug runner or poacher?
    He certainly bore the dangerous look of a man familiar with violence.
    “Are you okay?” His sudden reappearance, silent as it was, had her screaming, a cry cut short as he placed a hand over her mouth.
    “Shh. We don’t know if there are more of them out there. I need you to keep your voice down. Understood?”
    She nodded, and he removed his hand. “Why is someone shooting as us?”
    “Shooting at me you mean. Let’s just say I have enemies.”
    He didn’t elaborate on why he did, though. “Did you find the shooter?” she asked.
    He nodded.
    She couldn’t help but ask, “And?”
    “He won’t be shooting anymore.”
    His cold statement left no illusion as to what he meant. She swallowed and fought against the faintness threatening. Don’t you dare pass out now, Victoria Lola Sanchez! she sternly rebuked herself, and it worked, for now.
    “I need to get you back to camp before any of his buddies find us.” Gene moved back a pace and