by Thorne, Elle
“So you ran away?” Surely the law could have helped her?
“Yes, but... it was…” The words came slowly. She closed her eyes, as if reliving it. She was quiet for so long that he wondered if she’d fallen asleep or lost consciousness.
He reached for her. When his fingers touched her cheek, she flinched.
“Sorry. I wasn’t sure if you were okay. You’re fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.” He wrapped an arm around her. She nuzzled her head into his neck. Tiny sounds of comfort that only his bear could have heard came from her.
“I stabbed him.” A sob ripped from her throat. “I wouldn’t—I’m not—I don’t do that kind of thing.” Another sob.
He tightened his hold on her, made low, soothing, humming sounds and murmured words of comfort.
“He was going to kill me. So I picked up a knife. And held it out. And it—I—I stabbed him.”
“He died?” He tipped her head back to study her pain-filled dark eyes.
“No.”
Surely she realized that was self-defense. “You should have called the cops. Immediately.”
“He is a cop. In a small town.”
Dread smashed into anger deep within him. He knew how small-town law enforcement could be. He knew all about ranks closing.
“So now you’re living under the radar. Because of him.”
“I know he’ll kill me if he finds me. He’s got a scar on his cheek from that night. The knife slipped.”
Her next sigh was more like a ragged breath struggling and rattling within her body. He felt that struggle as she lay against his chest. She raised her head, her eyes on his, then her gaze traveled lower, to his lips, his chin, back to his lips.
“If you keep that up, I’ll do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” he whispered.
* * *
Chelsea held her breath as Grant lowered his head. She closed her eyes so she could savor the sensation she knew was coming. His lips touched hers softly, pressing their fullness into her own full lips. A soft moan, unexpected, started in her chest, surrendering into his mouth.
She felt like she’d come home, in a sacred, spiritual way she wouldn’t be able to put words to if she were asked. His tongue parted her lips, demanding entrance, taking no prisoners, save one—her heart.
Yielding to the commands his mouth made on hers, her hands rose, fingers digging into his hair, pulling him closer, punishing her lips with his. She was his prey, his salvation, retribution, and redemption.
He slipped his hand under the blanket and cupped her breast through her bra. Her nipple was hard, a crest-tipped button begging to be touched. He ran his thumb over it and even with the bra’s fabric between them, her responses were uninhibited. His bear smelled the scent of her arousal, making his cock twitch and engorge, pressing against her hip.
He raised his head.
A deep breath escaped her. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was a whisper. “Is it me? You don’t—”
“You? The only thing you are is perfection. But someone’s approaching.” His bear was at attention, but not completely worried. He’d identified the approaching heartbeat.
“How do you know? I didn’t hear anything.” She studied him, as if she doubted how perfect he thought she was.
“Good hearing.”
“You still owe me,” she said. “A secret.”
“It’s no secret that I want you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Grant waited patiently while Doc closed his bag. He knew from experience that Doc wasn’t going to say anything until he was good and ready, but Grant’s patience was running thin. “Well?” He tried to keep the annoyance from his voice. Really, he did. “How is she?”
“Just a bump. No concussion. Needs a little rest. That’s all.”
Grant breathed a sigh of relief. Now if only he could figure out what was wrong with Chelsea. She’d changed in the last half hour. Suddenly she wouldn’t establish eye contact with him. Her answers were short, and when he sat next to her, she moved away.
Mae gave him a look, asking ‘What’s up?’
He shrugged. This was not the same Chelsea he’d been with earlier. As soon as he could get the others out of here, they’d have a talk. He’d tell her about the shifting, the lifestyle, and he’d ask her to be his.
Grant found himself tapping his fingers on his thighs, wishing everyone would hit the road. Instead, Doc Evans and Mae were talking about the weather, and Doc’s daughter Astra was asking Chelsea for hair advice. He found himself spending more time trying to control his bear’s frustration, and less time concentrating on his own.
Finally, Doc Evans took a step toward the door, glancing at Astra. “Ready? Or do you have more hair stuff to talk about?”
“I’ll be in to see you soon,” Astra said to Chelsea.
“I’m looking forward to it.” Chelsea smiled at Astra. Then she caught Grant looking at her. The smile vanished, and she cast her glance away.
“Thanks, Grant.” Mae gave him a hug and made for the door.
Chelsea rose to her feet. “Mae, can I get a ride with you?”
“Ride?” Mae looked at Grant.
He looked at Chelsea, then back at Mae. Why the hell was Chelsea leaving? He paused, unsure what to say. “Shouldn’t you stay and rest?” That was the best he could come up with.
Chelsea looked down. Wringing her hands, she continued, “I think I can rest at home. I’ve been such a bother already.”
“I think you need to file a report,” Astra said.
Chelsea gasped. Her head rose, her expression alarmed.
“No.” Grant’s voice was firm. “I made a promise.” He stepped closer to Chelsea. “I promised her that I’d bring Doc Evans here because she doesn’t want the attention the authorities would give her.”
“Please.” Chelsea’s voice was small. “I’d like to go home.”
Where was the woman he’d fallen in love with? The spirited, sassy, sexy woman? Now she was defeated. Like she’d given up.
Given up on what? On him? That she could keep her ex from finding her?
* * *
Chelsea leaned back in Mae’s car. Outside the car, a blanket of whiteness covered the trees and the roadside. She felt numb, didn’t know what to say. She’d brought this on herself. She’d created a hassle with Jeff, one of Mae’s customers. She’d infringed on Mae’s relationship with Grant. Saying she was sorry seemed so lame now. The best thing she could do was pack her car and leave the valley first thing in the morning.
Mae took the curves and turns slowly, maintaining a speed that was safe, never taking her eyes off the asphalt. As soon as they’d started on a straight stretch of the road, Mae glanced at Chelsea. “Was it Jeff?”
Chelsea didn’t want to lie. But she also didn’t want to start problems for Mae.
“I’m not sure. One minute I was locking the store up, the next minute I was lying in a ditch. All I remember is that Grant found me and...” Chelsea stopped. The whole bear thing was silly.
“And what?”
“It’s silly. I think I was hallucinating. That a bear was there, carrying me.” She laughed a hollow laugh. “Silly, like I said.”
Mae looked at her sideways, didn’t say a word.
“Anyway,” Chelsea continued. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for troubling everyone. I hate that I was such a bother.”
“Bother?” Mae’s voice was high-pitched. She laughed. “You’re no bother. You’re like family. Like a sister to me.” She reached across the console, put a hand on Chelsea’s and squeezed. “I couldn’t do anything less for you.”
Tears sprang to Chelsea’s eyes. She felt ashamed. Here she was, hours from kissing—and other things! Very enjoyable things!—with Grant, from betraying this woman with the man Mae loved. Now she felt like shit. Forget leaving in the morning. She’d leave today. She bit the tears back, regained her composure.
They passed the road that turned into the town, where the salon and Chelsea’s car were
.
Chelsea’s head snapped toward the turn. Was Mae not going to take her to her car? “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you home to rest. You’re taking the day off. If not the whole weekend.”
“But my car...”
“I’ll have someone help me get it later. Right now we need to get you rested.”
“Could you take me to my car?”
“Should you be driving?” Mae put her hand back on Chelsea’s.
“Doctor Evans didn’t say I couldn’t.”
Mae braked slightly. “I’m not sure. Maybe I should call Doc Evans. Or Grant.”
“No. There’s no need to call anyone. Please.”
Reluctantly, Mae turned the car around. “Okay.”
They should hate her for all the trouble that she’d caused them. Then Chelsea remembered: she hadn’t been able to get the car to start last night. If she told Mae that now, then she’d know Chelsea had lied when she’d said she didn’t remember anything after locking the door.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in town. The salon was already open. Lana’s car was there.
Was Lana running it alone? Chelsea looked at Mae.
“I unlocked and asked her to handle things while I came to Grant’s place to check on you.” Mae smiled. “Now stop worrying about everything.”
Would her car start now?
No luck. It didn’t.
Mae shivered, hugged herself. “I’ll call Jerry.”
* * *
“Loose battery cable.” Jerry pronounced, shoving long hair off his forehead, leaving grease and dirt stains in its wake. “Try it now.”
Chelsea’s car started immediately.
“Odd how that came loose like that,” Jerry said, waving the two twenties that Chelsea tried to hand him away. “No charge. Friend of a friend, and all that.”
“How about a trade?” Chelsea suggested. “A haircut or two in exchange?”
“That a hint?” Jerry laughed, his breath making white puffs in the cool air.
“Noooo.” Chelsea smiled, then instantly felt bad. She wouldn’t be there to cut his hair. She was such a loser, offering him haircuts knowing full well she didn’t plan to stick around. She got into the car to go to Mae’s to pack.
Mae stepped up to the car door before Chelsea could close it. “I’ll follow you.”
“No. I’ve disrupted enough. It’s fine. A short drive. I promise I’ll be fine. I’ll rest.” For five minutes, before I write you a thank you note and leave.
Mae frowned at her, but acquiesced.
The drive was short and uneventful. Chelsea committed the house to memory. She stared at it, willing herself to remember every detail of the two-story stone home. Mae had told her she’d been living there for years, that she’d shared it with her husband. She was so young to be a widow, and without children, too. Chelsea was sad for her, until she thought about Grant, and how Grant would give Mae all the things she needed and wanted. Then Chelsea was sad for herself because she would never have those things.
Putting the car into reverse, she backed into the driveway to make it easier to load her trunk. She unlocked the front door and took the stairs to her room slowly, unwilling to rush into the sad task of leaving.
She opened the door to her room.
“Didn’t think I’d let you go that easily, did you?”
Chapter Seventeen
“What’s with Chelsea?” Doc Evans crossed his legs, getting comfortable in the large library. “You never bring outsiders to your home.”
“She’s the one, Doc.”
Doctor Jake Evans, affectionately known as Doc, had been Grant’s friend since they were both youngsters. Grant’s grandfather had taken Jake in and had practically raised the two boys as brothers until Grant had decided he wanted to get away from Bear Canyon Valley. That had been long ago. Then Grant had returned, done with roaming, to claim his rightful position in town. To live in his family’s home.
“I wondered.” Doc smiled. “I’m happy you’ve finally found someone.”
Astra strode into the room, a steaming coffee-filled mug in her hand. “When are you going to tell her? You know she has a right to know.”
Doc shook his head. “Easy to see where Astra stands on the whole shifter thing.”
Astra placed the mug on a table, put her hands on her hips. “I buried my mother because of her relationship with a shifter. I think shifters should be with shifters. Mortals should be left out of their lives.”
“Your mother was my soulmate.” Doc’s expression sobered. He shook his head.
Grant rose, put his arm around Astra. “We were all sorry that your mother’s life was taken prematurely. But that’s... We don’t have many problems with enemy shifters. Not like we did in the last century.”
She shook Grant’s arm off. “You’re still my favorite shifter. Right behind him.” She pointed to her stepfather Doc. “I’m sorry. I still have so much anger over losing Mom.” She picked up the cup and took a sip. “Do you plan to make Chelsea your mate?”
“If she’ll have me. If she can accept the bear.”
“It’s clear she cares about you. I caught the looks,” Doc said. “Can we plan for a wedding?”
“Don’t put the cart before the horse.” Grant waggled his finger at him. “Jeff’s up to no good. Her story about not knowing what happened to her; I don’t know how much of that is true, or if she’s trying to avoid a confrontation, but he definitely took her out of the parking lot. And he saw me carrying her—I was in bear form. He left the scene immediately.”
“What are you going to do?” Astra’s eyes were wide.
“Pay him a visit.”
* * *
Grant pulled into the driveway of Jeff’s home, the most opulent in the county, boasting the realtor’s successes. Jeff’s car was there, but the other vehicle he used wasn’t.
A midnight blue SUV.
Gone.
Grant wondered if that was an indicator of anything, though as long as Chelsea was safe with Mae, where Jeff was didn’t matter.
As Grant pulled back out of Jeff’s long driveway, the snow began to fall more quickly, in larger, heavier flakes. He put in a call to Mae’s cell. When she answered, he dispensed with the niceties. “How’s Chelsea?”
“She was fine when I left her. Said she wanted to take a nap.”
“Left her? I thought you were going to stay with her.” Deep within, his bear growled in his mind.
“She didn’t want me to. I didn’t want to be forceful. I locked the door behind me. She promised she’d leave it locked, just said she wanted to be alone. She started to cry, Grant. She felt bad for inconveniencing me. And she wanted her car. She’s a grown woman. I can’t keep her from her car. I can’t make her do what I want her to do.” Mae’s voice sounded like she was upset that she’d disappointed Grant.
He turned his truck around, heading toward Mae’s home. “I’m going to your place. I’ll call you when I get there.”
Twenty agonizing moments, later he pulled into Mae’s driveway and breathed a sigh of relief. Chelsea’s car was parked there. No other cars were around. He jumped out of his truck—the hell with waking her up—and pounded up the steps of Mae’s front porch, almost tripping on a chair that was sticking out.
He raised his fist to pound on the door. Thinking better of it, not wanting to scare her, he rapped on it softly with his knuckles. The door creaked open. It wasn’t locked.
No...
It wasn’t even closed.
He paused, listening, concentrating. He picked up no signs of life. Nothing. His bear could hear no heartbeat, no breathing. He could smell Jeff’s scent. He either was or had been in the house.
Grant took his phone out and punched redial. When Mae answered, he asked, trying to keep the panic he felt from invading his voice, “Which room is Chelsea’s?”
“First one at the top of the stairs, on the left.” At the other end, Mae gasped. “Why are you asking? What is it?�
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“Her car’s here. She’s not.”
“I’m on my way over.” She hung up the phone before he could tell her that she couldn’t help, and that it wasn’t a good idea for her to come.
Dammit. She couldn’t help. She’d get in the way, maybe even end up hurt herself. Who knew what kind of a wild card Jeff was?
He stormed up the stairs and ran through the open door at the top, on the left. Her door. The room was empty. A cup of tea sat on the dresser. He touched the porcelain. Still warm. It hadn’t been long since she was there. The drawers on the dresser were open and empty. The closet was empty too, no clothing hanging there.
Grant raged out the front door, looking for tracks. There, barely visible in the blanket of snow that had begun its downward drift: large tires. An SUV, most likely. He was certain it had to be Jeff’s.
He roared, shifted, and began to follow, going in the direction of the tracks, losing them on the main road, but knew there was no other way they’d go. If Jeff had taken her hostage, he wouldn’t go to a heavily populated area. More likely than not, the man had some property somewhere in the area. He’d take her there. An abandoned building... Grant didn’t know where, but he knew he wouldn’t give up looking.
He kept up a brisk pace, staying hidden by the tree line, just off the road, until he saw tracks on a cut-off. He stopped, studied them, and brushed the light blanket of snow off. Same tread. Had to be it. He took off after the tracks, following them.
There it was.
The SUV.
Stopped.
Parked at the end of the road.
Grant couldn’t move for a moment. Concern for Chelsea paralyzed him. He knew where this road led, to the abandoned lookout post. That’s when he noticed the driver’s side door was open.
His bear’s sharp ears heard it before he saw it. The sound of drops methodically hitting the ground. Coming around the back of the vehicle, he approached the door with caution.
In the driver’s seat, Jeff, dressed in an impeccable suit, was sprawled out. One hand on the wheel, the other at his side, but dangling out of the vehicle, dripping blood. The immaculate appearance of the suit was marred by a large pool of blood that wove its way down to his fingertips, then plopped on the ground. The blood was becoming solid and the dripping was slowed by the cold temperature.