Free Mountain Wilds Bundle by Hazel Hunter Page B

her.
    “Logan?” she gasped.
    She spun, her back against the dead tree.
    But it wasn’t Logan.
    In fact, it wasn’t even human. A giant grey wolf was approaching.  
    “Oh my god,” she said, raising the rifle–but too late.
    As Jules swung the barrel of the gun upward, the wolf leapt. Ears back, fangs bared, and downy fur rippling, the animal sailed through the air, directly at her.

MOUNTAIN WILDS

    An Erotic Expedition Novella

    PART 3

    By Hazel Hunter

CHAPTER EIGHT

    The muzzle flash of the pistol was bright in the shadowy forest. Though he blinked, Logan kept his eyes focused on the weapon. He grabbed and wrenched the gun sideways as his shoulder slammed into the shooter’s chest. The man screamed in pain as the gun came loose in Logan’s hand.
    The pitfall had worked.
    Whether the man had broken his ankle or he’d actually stepped on the blade of the axe planted at the bottom didn’t matter. He was immobilized. As Logan’s massive upper body collided with the shooter’s, it forced him back and his leg bent at an awful angle.
    Logan landed a roundhouse blow on the man’s jaw and followed it with an upper cut under his chin with the pistol. As though the strings of a puppet had been cut, the man collapsed in a heap.
    Though Logan had been ready to hit him again, he pulled the last punch. Breathing hard, he stared down at the immobile form below him. He blinked at the warm pistol he gripped in his hand and suddenly felt a burning in his leg. He looked down at a red stain spreading on the outside of his right knee. The jeans had been sliced cleanly open, as though someone had used a pair of scissors. The injured man’s aim had been wild and the bullet had almost missed Logan but a deep gash about two inches long was bleeding. Another centimeter over and his kneecap would have been shattered. A centimeter in the other direction and it would have missed him completely.
    Lucky .
    Logan’s eyes unfocused and he saw a similar scene in a very different place. His CC-130 had gone down under enemy fire. Wick, his co-pilot, had been killed instantly, shredded by shrapnel. The outside of Logan’s right leg had been peppered with it. He’d limped into the back of the plane just as two Iraqi soldiers had entered the damaged tail gate. The shooting had started immediately.
    Logan blinked and stared at his knee and then at the unconscious man on the ground. This wasn’t the Iraqi desert. This was the mountain wilderness of British Columbia. He and Dr. Julie Moore had crashed at a remote airstrip and, before search and rescue could find them, drug traffickers had.
    Although it was unlikely the unconscious man would be able to walk when he woke up, Logan wasn’t going to take any chances. Using a combination of his belt and the man’s, he secured his hands and feet, and then hog-tied them together behind him.
    Satisfied with the work, he took another look at the gash on his knee. The blood still flowed but not as freely as before. He’d live. Though he’d been about to look away, something shiny caught his eye.
    “What?” he muttered, moving the ripped jeans away for a better look.
    For a second, he could hardly believe it– metal . A jagged, little, silver triangle protruded from the trough created by the bullet. He reached down, pinched it tight between his index finger and thumb, and pulled. To his amazement, it moved, though not without pain. As he grit his teeth against the burning, he kept pulling. The triangle widened as it slowly emerged until, finally, it popped free.
    Logan stared at the bloody piece of shrapnel. About the size of a quarter but roughly square, it was paper thin. He turned it over, as though that might help to identify it, though he knew that was pointless. Thousands of pieces of metal and other material had come loose. It was impossible to know where this had come from. As he glanced at his knee, he pocketed the fragment. There was no time to worry about it now. It was time to find