by Eve Langlais
An anticipatory hush fell, and he studied her, studied her hunched frame, the tattered clothes, the scratches on her arms, the fading and fresh bruises.
Trouble.
So much trouble. Despite her wounded status, a part of him urged him to walk away, knew if he didn’t run that his life would change.
He didn’t budge. How could he leave when she turned bright green eyes his way and said in the softest whisper, “Save me”?
Save her? As if she had to ask. His cousins always claimed he had a hero complex. More like he couldn’t stand to see women and children getting hurt. Which meant he couldn’t turn his back on her.
He reached out and touched the exposed skin of her arm, just a poke that caused her to flinch as if he’d slapped her, while he fell on his ass. No grace at all.
Mine.
His voice, his bear’s? Did it matter? The realization kicked him in the gut. She was his mate. His fated mate. His one and only. Forever and ever and …
“Fuck.” He said it aloud, and she flinched again. Not good. “Who are you?”
For a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer. “Becka.”
“Who hurt you, Becka?”
A shudder went through her, and she didn’t reply. Someone else did. “No one hurt her. She’s fine and needs to come with me.”
Getting to his feet, Stavros held in a sigh as he beheld the big brute at the end of the alley. Stavros had met his type before while on the force, too many times to count. A big bully and, worse, a bully who picked on women.
Can’t stand those guys.
Let’s maul him.
Sounded like a good plan. Now to get the guy to swing first—it helped in case the police and lawyers got involved later on. “I’m afraid I can’t allow her to go with you.”
The guy with the goatee sneered. “This is none of your business.”
Actually, it totally was. She’d become his business the moment he set eyes on her. And even if she weren’t his mate, he’d still get in this asshat’s way just on principle. “I’m making this my business. See, I’ve got a problem with guys who think it’s okay to hit girls. My mother always taught me”—usually with a wooden spoon—“that only pussies and cowards hit women.”
“You meddle in things you don’t understand.” The crack of knuckles was probably meant to intimidate.
Ha. This goon had obviously never met his uncle Marcus. “I think you should leave before I teach you a lesson in how to treat a lady.”
“I think your face needs rearranging.” The brute began stalking toward him, and Stavros felt more than heard the woman rise behind him.
She stepped around his frame, careful to not touch any part of him, her arms hugging her body. “I’m coming, Brian. Don’t hurt him. He was just trying to help me.”
Did she seriously think he was going to allow her to hand herself over to this douche bag? “Get behind me,” he ordered.
Eyes the color of spring grass looked at him with weary resignation. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I won’t let you be hurt on my account.”
She didn’t get to decide that. “Who says I’m going to get hurt? I’m rather insulted you think this big goon can take me.”
“You don’t understand. He doesn’t play fair. I won’t have someone else killed on my account.”
Killed? Ooh, things just got a lot more interesting. Just who is this fucker who likes to hit women and kill people? This inquiring mind wants to know. Because you’re in bear country now, which means I am the predator, not you.
“Stand aside, sweetheart. I’ve got this. I’m a cop.” He didn’t tack on the used-to-be part.
The big dude heard him and snorted, “Here, piggy-piggy.”
The idiot poked the bear, and Stavros replied by charging. The goon didn’t sidestep his rush, and so Stavros hit him midsection and no further. Buddy was solid as a brick wall and held his ground.
Oooh, a little bit of competition. Usually that only happened with others in his sleuth—fancy word for his giant bear clan that ruled these parts.
Since pushing Brian over didn’t work, he resorted to a bit of grappling and thrown fists. More like mallets, given they both had a granite-hard punch.
Grunt. Smack. Jab. Oomph. Poke. Pummel.
They traded blows for a bit until Stavros noted his lady trying to inch past. She’s not leaving without me. He’d never find her again in a city this size. Never mind the smart thing to do involved letting her go.
I don’t want a mate. Don’t want. Don’t want.
That was the man part of him. The bear part?
Lick her! Yeah. His beast side had simpler needs.
Time to wrap things up. He drew on his bear strength and got an edge on the dude, his blows hitting faster and harder until the guy staggered. A foot hooked around his ankle sent the goon tumbling to the ground, and in a moment Stavros had him handcuffed, arms behind his back. Not being a cop didn’t mean Stavros had gotten rid of all his cool toys.
“Release me,” Brian snarled. “You don’t know who you’re messing with. If I don’t bring her back to him—”
“Who’s him?”
“You’ll see.”
I should hope so. Stavros rather liked the ominous tone. A man could use a little spice in his life, and a woman—especially the one who’d scurried off. “Tell your boss that if he comes near her, I’ll make him wish he was the load his mother swallowed.”
“Suck my dick.”
“Not my style, but don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find someone to play with where you’re going.” He patted the goon on the cheek. “Say hi to my friends in blue. I hear the cells are nice this time of the year. Expect me to come by later for a little chat.”
Sirens blared nearby, and he’d wager they were looking for the prick at his feet. As Stavros rose, he juggled his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text to a buddy at the precinct—Left you a present in the alley—with the name of the bar.
Then he went after his woman.
Not mine.
So mine.
He could see he and his bear would need to have a talk, because Stavros sure as hell wasn’t ready to settle down, despite what his mother and sisters seemed to think. “We need a son to carry on the name.” “You’re not getting any younger.” Never mind his uncle Horatio had just fathered his eighth child at fifty-five. If the women in his family caught wind of this woman, his single life as he knew it would vanish and the shackle of mating would bind him.
Choke. Gasp. He could feel the invisible collar of fate squeezing.
CHAPTER 3
Run while they’re distracted. Becka left the stranger grappling with Brian behind. A part of her didn’t want to. His Good Samaritan act would cause him a world of hurt—maybe even kill him—but sticking around would hurt her more in the end. Sometimes a girl has to be selfish. Besides, the guy had said he was a cop. He should be used to dealing with criminals.
Decided, she ran out of the alley, bare feet slapping the pavement. Despite the hour, she noted the number of people out and about had grown. Many of the pedestrians milled in groups, and as she passed she caught snatches of their conversations, most of them wondering about the wail of police sirens.
They’re looking for me. Probably not to arrest her specifically, but they would want her as a person of interest. Getting nabbed by the cops, even for questioning, wasn’t something she wanted to endure. As it was, she considered it bad luck that the fellow in the alley had mentioned he was a cop. A cop wouldn’t have believed a false story of her falling down some stairs to excuse the bruises. A police officer would find it suspicious she didn’t have any identification or a home address. He’d made sure of that.
I can’t let them take me. That was her first impulse, and yet getting arrested or taken into protective custody would put her in a cell, and that would make it harder for him to find her. And he would be looking. He wouldn’t let Becka go that easily because, as he’d told her more than once, she
tasted much too delicious.
Shudder.
Don’t think about that.
Don’t. Think.
She shuttered her mind and adopted a quick stride, just short of a run. People walking with rapid purpose drew less attention than those wildly fleeing. Or so she hoped. She turned at the first intersection, then turned again. She didn’t slow her steps until she’d managed to make it around another corner, the stitch in her side a hitching pain she could no longer ignore.
“Do you know where you’re going, sweetheart?” The casually asked question from behind managed to squeeze a little yelp of surprise from her. She halted and spun on a heel to find the stranger from the alley, the one with the kind brown eyes. With them both standing still, she noted that not only was he tall; he was pretty freaking wide too. Football-shoulder wide, and hairy, his head sporting a thick mop of dark hair, his brows thick and expressive, given one arched at her perusal. His square jaw held a bit of a beard, covering it from ear to ear and highlighting the sensuality of his lips. He had a strong nose, an arrogant one, and yet his eyes twinkled with mischief. He was also very much alive, unharmed, and waiting for an answer.
“Why did you follow me?”
“Perhaps I’m mistaken, but given I just had to put down a goon who claims he was fetching you for another, I was kind of under the impression you needed help.”
“The police can’t help me.”
“I’m not a cop.”
“But you said—”
“I used to be a cop, but the department and I had a slight misunderstanding. I work in the personal investigative realm now.”
“You’re a gumshoe?”
Laughter barked from him. “Now there’s something you don’t hear often. But yes, I’m a gumshoe who specializes in investigation and protection services. And maybe it’s just me, but you look like you’re in need of a protector.” His eyes cataloged her from head to toe.
Before his gaze she felt stripped bare, every single bruise and scratch glaringly evident. She resisted an urge to duck her face. “I can’t afford your services.”
“Who says I’d charge you?”
At that, she took a step away from him and held out her hands. “I am not that kind of girl.”
For a moment his mouth hung open, and then he laughed. “Sweetheart, I don’t need to buy sex, or exchange favors for it. So you don’t need to look like that. Can’t a man offer aid to a damsel in distress just because it’s the right thing to do?”
Her brow furrowed. “People don’t do things for nothing.” And when they did good deeds, sometimes it cost them their lives, like the poor man in the hotel.
The whoop of sirens drew closer. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but given I don’t know the whole story, and I don’t get the impression you want the cops involved, what do you say we get off the street and talk about what I can do to help you.”
“I don’t want your help.” She didn’t need more deaths on her conscience.
Becka turned from him and would have walked away, but he grabbed her upper arm. It wasn’t rough by any means, but she still flinched, unable to stop the spurt of fear.
He released her and exclaimed, “Holy fuck, sweetheart! Just what did that bastard do to you?”
Enough to make her leery of being touched. She ducked her head. “You should go. It doesn’t matter where I hide. He will eventually find me.”
“Good. Because I’d like a word with him. My mother always did say I had expressive hands.”
A peek at him showed one fist slamming into the palm of his other hand. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Nope, but I am a curious man. Just like a bear, I like to poke my nose in things and sometimes take a lick.”
“You’re strange.”
“Thank you. Now shall we? I doubt we have long before my old workmates come across us. I’d rather not have them ask why I’m in the company of a woman who looks like she went a few rounds.”
Go with him? She hesitated, especially since he held out a hand. A big hand. A hand marked with calluses from work. A hand that could hurt if it chose. A hand that asked for a measure of trust.
What do I have to lose?
CHAPTER 4
With only the slightest hesitation, she slid her smaller hand into his, and he was careful not to crush it. He had to be even more careful and not drag it to his lips and kiss it, or lick it like his bear thought they should do. The impression he got from her indicated she might not welcome slobber at this time. Maybe not ever. All of her trembled in fear.
Fear of him. It enraged him to know she was so frightened, and yet he couldn’t express that anger. It would only scare her further, even if his rage was for whoever had done this to her.
He held her hand in a gentle grip, but at the same time he couldn’t help a sense of urgency as he tugged her in the direction of his car. Lucky for them both, he’d parked a few blocks away from the club. The lights on his vehicle flashed as he approached, the doors unlocking as he pressed the fob button.
“This is what you drive?” She sounded rather surprised.
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Something more … I don’t know. Didn’t Magnum, P.I., drive a convertible?”
Not just any convertible, a Ferrari 308 GTS—also known as a boner car. “You watch Magnum?” His all-time favorite show as a cub. He’d devoured all the PI shows growing up. As an adult, he even tried emulating his favorite hero. He failed at the awesome mustache—mostly because all his female relatives laughed at it and told him it looked like he had a caterpillar crawling across his upper lip—but he did manage to grow a wicked beard, which his family told him made him look like a mountain man. He went clean-shaven most of the time now unless he wanted to irritate his sisters.
“Magnum, Charlie’s Angels, even M*A*S*H. I like watching the older stuff. Things seemed so much more real then.” How wistful she sounded.
If this were a regular date, he’d be plying her with the cheesiest line known to man—Where have you been all my life? But he doubted she’d appreciate it, so he stuck to simpler things.
“One thing I learned watching Magnum was to not be so noticeable.” He patted the hood of his ten-year-old sedan, a navy blue that was both reliable and boring. “When I am working, I use this to blend in.”
“What do you drive when you don’t have to hide?”
“On my days off, I drive a Mustang convertible.” He grinned. “Bright red.” License plate MGNMBR—Magnum Bear, also the name of his agency. “What about you?”
“I don’t drive. I don’t even have a license.” Her lips turned down.
It made him want to flip them upside down. It always made his nieces giggle, but somehow he didn’t think it would work the same way with her.
Stavros opened the passenger door, but she deftly avoided touching him at all when sliding into the car. He, however, couldn’t ignore her proximity or scent when he took the driver’s seat.
Such an odd medley of scents: blood, fear, and something oily. But underneath it all, his other half noticed something yummy.
Only once he pulled away from the curb did he ask, “So where do you want to go? Is there a friend or family member that can take you in?” Because home obviously wasn’t an option.
She shook her head. “I’ve got no family left. Just me. And I’m not from around here. If you could drop me at a bus station, I’ll figure something out.”
“Figure out what?” He cast her a quick glance. “You look like you went a few rounds with a brawler, you don’t have a purse, and I’m going to guess those snug leggings of yours aren’t holding a wad of cash or even I.D. You’re gonna need both to travel.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Thanks for pointing out my situation is hopeless.”
“Not hopeless. Chin up, sweetheart; you’re with me now. Things are already looking up.”
“Says you. How do I know you’re any better?”
He might have been more insulted i
f the abuse weren’t so obvious. Of course she had trust issues. Someone had done a number on the girl and it made his inner bear rage, but he couldn’t let that beast out quite yet. She was already scared enough. No need to frighten her more. But how to make her believe him when he said she was safe?
“You might not believe this yet, but trust me when I say I could not hurt you. Never. Not in a zillion years. And not just because my mother would beat me within an inch of my life.”
“Your mother beats you?”
“Only when I deserve it.” For some reason, she didn’t look reassured. However, even he could admit he’d earned his whacks with a spoon. Jumping off the dining room buffet, which resulted in it falling over and smashing his mother’s heirloom dish set, being the most notable example. “My mother is a wonderful woman. When she’s not meddling in my love life. Apparently, a man my age should be married. I’m twenty-eight before you ask.”
“That doesn’t seem old.”
“I’m the youngest of seven, the six others being sisters, all married by the time they were in their midtwenties.”
“Sounds like you come from a big family.”
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, sweetheart. I’ve got more nieces and nephews than I can count. Add in some brothers-in-law, and then there’s my aunts, uncles, and cousins.… Family gatherings tend to be loud.”
“Must be nice to have so many folk.” She couldn’t hide her wistful tone.
“Only when they keep their noses to themselves. Meddling isn’t restricted just to my mother and sisters. Even my aunts and grandmother are bugging me too.”
Her lips almost quirked into a smile. “My poppa never cared. He always told me to wait for love.”
“Love isn’t supposed to hurt.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth.
A guarded look dropped over her face, and her hands clasped each other tightly in her lap. Her chin dropped. “I’ve never been in love.”
“Then who’s been hurting you?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“A bad man. A very bad man.” She whispered the words, and he could feel the fear radiating from her trembling frame.