The lions share, p.1
The Lion's Share, page 1
part #3 of The Chimera Chronicles Series
Table of Contents
THE LION’S SHARE
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
THE LION’S SHARE
The Chimera Chronicles Book 3
KARIN SHAH
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
THE LION’S SHARE
Copyright©2016
KARIN SHAH
Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN: 978-1-68291-139-6
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is for my twin Sarah,
who shares my Supernatural addiction.
With much love!
Acknowledgements
The following people were instrumental in the creation of this book: My husband and children, who often lived with a sink full of dishes and ravioli for dinner, my parents, who keep me going through the fear, my beta reader Sarah Ha, who would be sure to tell me if I “can do better,” Central Ohio Fiction Writers, and Debby Gilbert, my editor extraordinaire. I love you all and am eternally grateful!
Chapter 1
US Forces in the Middle East
Prey. The lion dug his claws into the cracked desert pavement, crouching to spring, tension burning in muscles bunched under tawny fur. Zeroing in on the creature standing upwind, he twitched his tufted tail and licked his whiskers.
The large male human in a bulky vest with a hard round thing on his head cradled a mottled metal stick that exuded a smell the lion recognized—death.
He narrowed his eyes as information filtered from his dormant other side. This prey was a soldier, the object on his head a helmet, the ugly thing in his hands, a weapon that could kill from a distance.
He waited as his prey turned toward the Humvee’s open driver’s side door to check the crackling radio, shielding the microphone from the hot, gusty wind with his broad back, the glare of the sun on the narrow twin rectangles of the windshield reflecting the rocky scrub-covered landscape, dusky sky, and gray-green mountains in the distance.
The lion tensed, heartbeat building, a surge of power mounting in his limbs. He scented the dry air. Though his prey seemed alone, vulnerable, this was no aged or weakened animal, and the metallic, burning smell, and low rumble of the hot engine, could mask others inside. The lion’s stomach rumbled. He crawled forward, just another shade of dun in this sea of hardened sand, the gnawing teeth of hunger overwhelming his caution. Any second, any second . . .
Now! He sprang at the man, but the soldier twisted at the last moment, a lightning-quick maneuver that caused the animal to sail over his lean hip. The lion hit the ground with a thud. He rolled, ass over end, then planted himself beside the vehicle, and shook his whole body, dust blowing from his rippling, black-tinged mane and drifting up into the glassy blue sky.
Pulse pounding in his ears, he stared the man down and braced for pain.
But the man crossed muscular arms over his supply-laden chest. “You’ll have to do better than that, Connor Gunn.”
At that, the lion jerked his head, as if dodging a fly bite and staggered back, recognition slamming through him. Connor was his name.
He was not a lion, at least not completely.
And his prey was not just a human. Not just some soldier.
It was Tyler. His twin brother.
A shudder ran through him. The sky seemed to press down while the ground tilted. He dug his claws into the baked earth once more to keep his feet.
For a second he’d forgotten.
Again.
A jolt of panic zinged through his chest. What had he almost done? Thank God Ty had been alert.
Con’s throat constricted with fear, his heart thudding against his massive ribcage, but he shook a second time to brush it off, his human side now completely awake.
They were exposed here. Distraction could get them killed. Flashing human, he collected his Army Combat Uniform from Ty and stuffed his six-foot six-inch frame into it at top speed, strapping on his kit and picking up his weapon.
Ty slapped the helmet Con had just fastened under his chin and shoved an energy bar in his hand. “Jesus, bro. You gotta stop doing recon in lion form. Someone’s gonna see.” Shaking his head, he squeezed his own lanky six-foot five-inch body into the driver’s seat as Con went around to sit shotgun.
Stop? His vest seemed to constrict his torso. How could he tell his brother he couldn’t even fucking remember making the decision to start?
The other soldier in the vehicle, sitting in the back, punched Con’s shoulder. “I never get tired of that, man. Wish I could do it.”
The physical contact raised Con’s hackles, but he fought down the urge to growl. It was only Paul, after all. They’d grown up together as foster brothers. Not that the army knew that.
Enough fuss had been kicked up over Con and Ty being teamed up.
He squinted out the window at the rocky slope ahead, feeling like it might slide down and crush him. Damn, he was getting worse. A year ago he wouldn’t even have noticed the punch.
Ty glanced his way, amber eyes almost identical to his own glinted as he slammed the engine into gear and spun the wheel. “It’s fucking risky is what it is. Hell, you might eat someone.”
A shudder buzzed through Con once more, a cold sweat on its heels. His brother had no idea.
Ty herded the Humvee onto the narrow track, stones grinding under the vehicle’s deep treads. “Or get shot.”
Gritting his teeth and gripping the vibrating, bouncing dash, Con shook off his brother’s bitching and scented the air coming in the crack in the door, smelling for IED’s, his lion side tucked away—for the moment.
Paul wrapped his hands on either side of Con’s seat and levered himself forward, as if they were on a Sunday drive not coated in sand bouncing up and down hard enough to rattle their teeth. “I’m going to miss these cushy ops checking forward operating base security. Next week we’ll probably be back to HALO jumps and sleeping rough.”
Con grunted. Once he might have felt that way, too. Now, he craved the isolation of the mountains. He grimaced at the stony hills passing the grimy windows. It was safer for everyone that way.
“Shut it about the shifting now. We’re at the rally point.” Ty stopped the vehicle so two other members of the team could pile in. The third, McGinnis, clambered up to man the .50 cal. on the top of the truck.
They were less than ten miles from the base, navigating a curving dirt road hemmed in by hills, when Connor smelled it, the rich tang of fertilizer with a hint of plastic and metal. He raised his hand, fist clenched. “Ambush!”
Ty jammed on the brakes. The Humvee skidded on the loose ground, throwing up a rooster-tail of dirt and stones.
The three younger members of the recon team, men he, Ty and Paul had only just been teamed with, looked at each other as if to say, “What the hell is he smoking?”
“Fuck!” Paul had been jammed in the middle of the backseat. He tightened his grip on his weapon. “Con’s intuition is the shit. If you want to live to be Recon Rangers for another day, you’ll get the fuck out of this vehicle.” That said, he scrambled over his disbelieving comrades, ripped open the door and jumped to the ground, dust rising like smoke beneath his boots.
A second later, the other men spilled out, weapons raised, scanning the hills for insurgents.
Con hunched over his weapon, placing his feet with care, adrenaline bringing his lion to the surface. “Ambush.” He pushed through his thickened vocal cords, and then paused to listen. The faint sound of metal clicked in the distance, rifles being readied. The breeze swept down the hill, carrying with it the sour odor of men who’d been roasting in the hot sun for hours. He pointed into the hills. “That pile of rocks at seven o’clock.” He glanced at Ty who nodded, confirming his assessment.
He directed the team into protected positions with rapid hand signs and continued indicating other areas sheltering fighters, his keen senses on high alert, muscles tight with determination. He hadn’t lost a teammate since he’d been team leader, and today wasn’t going to be the first time.
“This is crazy.” McGinnis swiped at the sweat rolling down his tanned cheek.
Paul inclined his head, not taking his narrowed eyes off the hills. “You won’t think so in a minute.”
Con gestured up the road. “They have an IED. I think it’s radio controlled. I don’t know if they’ll set it off. We’re out of blast range, but stay away from the apex of the curve in the road where you can see that little pile of junk.”
The other two men on the ground exchanged another incredulous glance, but Con didn’t bother to try and convince them. The insurgents were out there. He could see tiny hints of movement and hear the faint hiss of a radio. The tips of his fingers pinged, his claws on the verge of busting out. Shit. He breathed deep, fighting back the need to shift.
One minute passed and then another. McGinnis cracked his knuckles. “If they’re out there, Cooper, what’s taking ‘em so long?”
Paul stretched his neck, eyes fixed on the hills. “We’re not where they’d hoped we’d be—pinned down in a smoldering Humvee.”
Ty nodded. “The bomb was placed in relation to their cover. They’re off balance.”
Another long minute dragged past. The sun beat down on their helmets like a hydraulic press. A swam of black flies buzzed around their heads, seeking skin to bite. McGinnis swore and turned toward Paul at his six. “Maybe—”
The boom of a grenade launcher recoil ricocheted off the hill. “Holy—” McGinnis swore and started to dive off the Humvee.
“No!” Ty shouted. “It’s gonna miss. Lay into seven o’clock with everything you’ve got!”
The grenade flew past their position and detonated just shy of spraying them with deadly shrapnel. A few pebbles, buoyed on the wind, rained down and clattered against their uniforms. McGinnis pulled on his ear protection and unloaded with the fifty cal into the pile of rocks Conn had identified, hot casings pinging as they hit the roof of the Humvee. The scent of gunpowder tainted the air.
Ty radioed in their contact with the enemy. Then Con tossed a smoke grenade in front of them to mask their movements. When the billowing smoke mushroomed into a rolling wall, he gave the signal to start advancing on the less fortified positions he’d identified earlier. While Paul, McGinnis and the other men provided cover-fire. He and Ty raced to flank the remaining positions, climbing the steep gradient at almost a flat run in the hopes of taking each makeshift fortification before the enemy could react. Adrenaline stung through Con’s veins as his drove his body to the peak of its endurance.
Heart pumping like a drum, breath rasping in his ears, Con assaulted the insurgents from behind.
He found two men under a spotty, sun-bleached tarp. They heard him at the last minute and tried to turn their weapons toward him, but it was too late. His lion was high and they were dead before they’d even knew what was happening. Fuck. He scowled. He hadn’t meant to kill them.
He crouched and surveyed the scene. The fifty cal had blown apart the seven o’clock position. Four men lay prone in the wreckage. The hide he’d taken had left two dead. Ty waved from across the way and raised three fingers. Nine men dead. And for what? They weren’t a convoy. Just a team operating close to base.
It was possible the insurgents might have let them go by without detonating the IED at all.
Paul hiked up the embankment. “You OK?”
Connor nodded. “I think they might have been waiting for someone else.”
Ty joined them, copping a squat to be eye level with Con, while the other members of the team remained at the bottom of the hill. “I let base know we’ve handled the situation. We’re ordered to collect any intel and bug out for a debrief as soon as the bomb disposal team gets here.”
Paul nodded, then dropped to the rocky ground. He reached into his vest and fished out a cigar then brought it to his face.
Con snagged Paul’s wrist before the cigar could reach his nose. “What the fuck is this?”
Paul tilted his head to gaze up at him, blue eyes amused. “Bro, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”
“Asshole!” Con plucked the cigar from his hand, fear forging his voice into the sharp edge of a blade. “This is one of the GurkhasHM we found in that tribal leader’s place.”
“So?”
He ground his teeth. “So it was in evidence lock-up.”
“Jesus, Con. No one’s going to care about a few cigars.” Paul made a face. “They have no strategic value. They’re not worth anything. Don’t be such a hard ass.”
“A box of those cigars is worth fifteen thousand dollars.”
Paul blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. Why did you think we collected ‘em in the first place? No tribal leader could afford those things. He’s being bribed.”
“Shit!” Paul dropped his head, helmet and all, into his hands. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Con shook his head and gave the rest of the team their instructions over his com, then turned back to Paul. ‘You gotta turn ‘em in. Hopefully, all you’ll get is non-judicial punishment.”
Paul punched the ground. “Fuck! They’ll demote me for this. I can’t afford to lose a pay grade. Not with the baby coming. Lisa had to stop working.”
“We—”
“We, shit. Don’t you say you can help. You and Tyler put the down payment on our house. I can’t ask for any more.”
“You’re not asking.”
“No. I’m not taking any more charity.”
Ty stood so quickly it was as if he’d never been squatting. “It wasn’t charity. It was a gift between family.”
Paul sucked in a deep breath and let the air rush out. “I’ll sneak ‘em back in. That’s what I’ll do.”
“You get caught you’ll get a court martial for sure. You’ll definitely lose the house and be inside when the baby is born.”
Ty folded his arms and ducked his chin in agreement.
Paul let his head fall back and closed his eyes, ignoring a midge crawling toward his hairline.
Con had never seen his impulsive foster brother seem so defeated, but turning the contraband in was his only option. When the cigars were discovered missing the MP’s would move heaven and earth to find them. Not that they’d need to—a dog could track them in minutes.
Paul’s light fingers had kept them from starving when their foster parents had been too boozed-out or high to feed them. Their generosity to him wasn’t charity. No matter what he said, they owed him. Besides, Paul’s family needed him. He and Ty had no one. Not a single person depended on them, no wives, no children, not even a goldfish. They were expendable.
Con grimaced, rubbing at his gritty jaw. Sometimes loyalty was a bitch. “I’ll do it.”
Ty squinted into the dusty blue sky. “The hell you will.”
Before Con could argue, Ty prodded Paul with his elbow. “Not alone anyway. We’ll do it.”
