Big Game: Hunted Love #1 Read Free Page A

with protein during the hunt. A second tote filled with chunks of rendered fat, also vacuum sealed, would help with the massive numbers of calories the dogs would burn. Uncle Frank was old school with his dogs, insisting on feeding them as close as possible to what they would eat in the wild. And on the trail, the dogs went to half rations, to ensure they would be driven by hunger to track down their quarry.
    The once-familiar tasks of loading for a hunt fit like a comfortable old shoe, even after six years. Trying to figure out what to do with Uncle Frank's estate was about the last thing Jakob wanted to do with his first week back in the States. Having a few beers with the old man would have been a far better use of his time. Too bad it didn't work out that way.
    His cellphone buzzed and he nearly ignored it. He didn't want to talk to anyone, least of all his mother. That stupid sense of duty he seemed stuck with dictated he at least see who was calling, and he was glad he did. At the end of the call, he had a hunting job. Looks like he wouldn't have to bluff his way onto the woman's property after all.
    Satisfied, he went back to his preparations and started loading tack and feed for the horses into the beat up old four-horse trailer. His own gear followed, everything he needed to spend two weeks or more on the trail in nearly any kind of weather conditions. He would travel as light as possible, with little concession to comfort beyond what he needed to maintain his health and strength.
    Weapons were the only thing for himself Jakob didn't skimp on. He'd prefer not to kill the lion, but he also wasn't about to let one eat him. The firearms were all cleaned and ready to go, as always, but he still checked each one as he slid them into the custom made carrier mounted behind the seat. The high-powered rifle and tactical shotgun were wicked looking pieces of armament, and the handguns could have possessed evil intent based on appearances.
    The lesson about going fully armed had been a hard one. Most people would assume the firearms were sufficient and stop there. Not Jakob. He added a Bowie knife and a machete to his usual pocket knife and the lock-blade he carried on his belt. The hatchet that usually proved useful about camp also made a brutally effective weapon in the right hands. He had no intention of passing up perfectly good weapon just because it wasn't what someone expected to be anything other than a tool.
    Finally, with everything ready except the horses, he led the four anxious animals from the corral and loaded them into the four-horse trailer. He had a pack animal and two spare saddle horses who could do double duty with light packs. It might seem like overkill, but that many horses would allow him to move as quickly and for as long as he was capable. An idea percolated in the back of his mind, suggesting that if he finished the hunt for the lion quickly, perhaps Miss Holt might allow him to spend a few days on her land, just relaxing.
    Moments after latching the trailer doors, he pulled out, glad for the prospect of open road stretched ahead. Of course, he had to run the gauntlet that was Ewingsville first. If there was one single thing about home he had not missed during his deployments, it was the Ewingsville PD. More specifically, Chief Bellamy, who operated the Police Department for the little town where Jakob had grown up.
    As a sophomore in high school, Jakob and two other boys had gone along with an idea Chief Bellamy's son came up with. Apparently churches frowned on having their vans hotwired by a bunch of high school boys. Especially when those boys hooked chains to the rear axles and played 'tug o war' with the vans until one ripped the rear-end out of the other. The stunt landed squarely at the feet of Chief Bellamy's son, and resulted in a vendetta against the other three.
    Even after so many years, every single time Jakob went into Ewingsville, he could depend on Chief Bellamy or one of his men to