Phantom Warriors: Saber-Tooth

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Saber-tooth

ISBN # 1-4199-0757-3

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Saber-tooth Copyright© 2006 Jordan Summers

Edited by Briana St. James.

Cover art by Syneca.

Electronic book Publication: November 2006

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written

permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is

purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Content Advisory:

S – ENSUOUS

E – ROTIC

X - TREME

Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic),

and X (X-treme).

The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E

–rotic.

S-
ensuous
love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

E-
rotic
love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word

count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost

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X-
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SABER-TOOTH

Jordan Summers

Dedication

To Julia Templeton, Sylvia Day and Kathy Love. Thank you guys for your shoulders

to cry on, ears to bend and words of wisdom.

Chapter One

“A saber-toothed tiger has been spotted at the famous La Brea Tar Pits,” the

television announcer said, his voice filled with excitement and more than a little

skepticism.

Katy Manfred did a double take on the screen as the news station moved its feed

from the studio to a live shot from a hovering helicopter over downtown Los Angeles.

She saw a flash of brownish red move across the screen, but it was too fast to catch what

it was before it disappeared beneath the thick tree-line.

It had to be some kind of joke. A saber-toothed tiger?
Puleaseee.
Those cats lived in

the Cenozoic period before the Holocene and had been extinct for over eleven thousand

years. Katy snickered. Someone should probably inform the press.

Katy shook her head, sending strawberry blonde hair into her face. She pulled the

hair tie off her wrist and swept her shoulder-length bob into a quick ponytail. She didn’t

bother checking in the mirror to see if it was straight. Katy didn’t care.

The camera filming the famous tar pits, where several prehistoric bones had been

recovered, swung wildly in an attempt to catch the fleeing animal. So far, other than the

flash of movement, which could’ve been a squirrel, all they’d managed to film were

trees and people standing on the sidewalks waving and pointing at the camera. She

laughed. Everyone in L.A. wanted their fifteen minutes of fame. This had to be a

publicity stunt. She tried to recall the upcoming filming schedules she’d read about in

the popular movie industry rag, but nothing came to mind. Katy turned away from the

television, muting the sound just as the phone rang.

“Manfred here.” She paused to listen. “Yes, I saw the news.”

“I want you to try to get to the La Brea Tar Pits before animal control arrives,” Roger

Sylvan said.

“They’re already there. I spotted their truck when the cameras swung around to try

to capture the cat on film.”

“Then I suggest you hurry. You need to catch the animal before they do.”

“Are you sure you want me to do that, sir? Animal control doesn’t like the private

sector stepping on their toes. I’m sure they can handle the situation. I doubt very much

that it’s a saber-tooth tiger,” Katy said.

“I don’t pay you to question my orders, Manfred. Get down there now. If there’s

even a remote chance this thing is real, I want Bio Tech to possess it. Do whatever it

takes.”

“Okay, you’re the boss.”

“And don’t you forget it.” There was a click and the line went dead.

Katy hung up the phone, then strode across the living room of her Santa Monica

bungalow. The place wasn’t much, but it was all she had left of her parents, who’d

perished in a boat fire several years ago. Loneliness engulfed her, the loss as painful

today as it had been when the accident occurred. She pushed her grief aside. She had a

job to do and couldn’t afford the distraction that pain brought.

She glanced at the television once more. The cameraman was still trying to catch the

feline on film. She hit the power button and watched the screen dim. Going to La Brea

Tar Pits was a total waste of time. Katy knew it and so did her boss, Roger Sylvan. He’d

been sending her out on wild goose chases for the past few months. Roger had been

trying to get her to quit ever since they’d broken up. At first, she’d been too stubborn to

concede. Lately, she’d come to realize her resistance had more to do with the fact that

she had nowhere else to go. Katy punched in a code on her wall and a hatch popped

open, displaying her pistol. Strapping on her weapon, she headed for the front door.

Katy grabbed a canvas bag that remained packed at all times, unzipping it to ensure

she had extra ammo. The dart guns and snares were already in her truck, along with a

tarp covering and a reinforced net. The zoo hadn’t reported any big cats missing, but

there were always private owners. It was probably somebody’s scared lion. The rich and

their pets. She shook her head in disgust.

Didn’t they know these types of animals could never be tamed? How many times

had she had to put down a cornered half-crazed animal just to keep it from hurting

nearby humans? Too damn many. Renewed anger surged through her. These people

had no business keeping predators in the middle of a city the size of Los Angeles. Once

Katy caught this cat, she’d tell them so. It was her job to clean up other people’s messes.

Someone was going to get their ass kicked if she had to shoot a cat today.

Katy shoved the truck in reverse and backed out of her driveway. She heard brakes

screech and the blast of a horn. She didn’t care. She needed to get to La Brea Tar Pits and

fast. The ride there was slow going at best, thanks to L.A.’s typical traffic flow of slow,

slowest and crawl. Katy considered taking to the sidewalks, but decided against it. The

cat would probably hunker down somewhere in the brush until nightfall, and then make

its escape. Hell, that’s what she would do in its place.

Forty minutes later, she pulled into the heavily shaded parking area at La Brea Tar

Pits as several police cars exited. The crowd seemed to have dissipated somewhat,

leaving only a few hardcore lookie loos around. Katy shut the door of her truck, then

strapped on the holster for her dart gun, slipping the weapon into place. She moved to

her tailgate to ensure the cage and tarp were in order before approaching the people.

“Where’s animal control?” she asked no one in particular.

A man stepped forward. “They left, since they couldn’t find any trace of the animal.

One had the nerve to suggest we were making the whole thing up.”

Grumbles echoed throughout the crowd.

“Were you?” Katy asked.

“No.”

Katy debated whether to get back into her truck and go home. If animal control hadn

’t been able to locate the cat, then she didn’t think she’d have much better luck. Sure, she

was a good tracker--great even, but it was next to impossible to track anything in a

concrete jungle. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to ask if anyone had seen anything

before she left.

“Does anyone know where the cat went?” Katy searched the faces around her, but

most refused to make eye contact.

“You aren’t going to kill it, are you?” someone called out.

The last thing Katy wanted to do was destroy the animal, but sometimes she didn’t

have a choice. “Not if I can avoid it,” she said noncommittally.

A little boy pushed his way through the small crowd, then signaled for her to crouch

down so that he could whisper in her ear. “I know where it went.”

“Petey, get back here this instant.” A frantic mother pushed through the crowd in

search of her son.

“Where is he, Petey?” Katy used the child’s name in hopes it would reassure him

enough to answer.

Petey looked back at his mom, then turned to face Katy. He reached out and

grabbed her hand, tugging her away from the other people. “I don’t want anyone else to

hear. The kitty told me to keep it a secret.”

Katy frowned. “The kitty told you not to say anything?”

The little mop-topped boy nodded his head, sending brown curls cascading into his

face. “Mommy doesn’t believe me, but you do, don’t you?” he asked, his lower lip

starting to tremble.

Katy reached out, cupping his cheek and smiled. As a child, she’d been convinced

she could talk to the animals. She still remembered the pain and humiliation the kids in

school inflicted with their “crazy Katy” taunts. “Of course I believe you. Now show me

where he is.” She waved to reassure the boy’s mother.

Petey beamed, then tugged her down a path that wound around some of the

outbuildings associated with the facility. “He’s over there under those bushes.” He

pointed to an area off the path that dipped slightly into a small ditch.

She couldn’t immediately see anything, but that didn’t mean the cat wasn’t there.

“Thank you, Petey. You’ve been very helpful.” Katy glanced over her shoulder and saw

the child’s mother waiting, a concerned expression on her face. She waved and motioned

for her son, while her gaze scanned the bushes. Katy turned back to Petey. “You’d better

get going. Your mom’s worried about you.”

He smiled, showing a missing front tooth. “She worries about everything,” he said,

rolling his eyes.

“That’s her job. Now scoot.” Katy rumpled his hair and then sent him on his way.

She needed Petey and everyone else to stay clear of the area. Predators were

unpredictable, especially when cornered. She didn’t want to take the chance of an

innocent bystander getting hurt, especially a child, and she damn well didn’t want to

have to put the animal down in front of an audience.

She inched closer, dart gun in hand, her eyes searching the shadows for movement.

A warm breeze filtered through her hair, tearing a few strawberry blonde wisps out of

her ponytail. She reached up, tucking the errant strands behind her ear. Traffic sounds

faded, giving way to the rustling of leaves in the trees. Even the birds had suddenly

gone quiet. Katy knew something hunted her. She crouched lower and blinked.

Intelligent green eyes stared unflinchingly back at her.

No way in hell
, her mind said, refusing to acknowledge what she saw. Even as the

thought fluttered through her head, Katy knew there was no mistake. It was a

saber-toothed tiger, or cat, as the scientific community more accurately labeled them,