by Clara Cody
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
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CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A Note from the Author
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Her Rogue Bear
Clara Cody
Copyright
Her Rogue Bear
Clara Cody
Copyright 2016- Clara Cody
All Rights Reserved
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CHAPTER ONE
I cradled Dad’s head in my lap. The dead lay all around. Slaughtered at the hand of my father. Bloody eyes stared at us, but I didn’t care. My dad was dying.
“Take it…off,” Dad gasped. He coughed, blood splattering his cheek like raindrops.
I reached for the amulet around Dad’s neck. A cold hand stopped me, feeling more like a claw than anything human.
“Don’t touch it, son. Don’t ever…touch it.” He coughed again, releasing my wrist.
“Sorry.” Touching could be just as dangerous as wearing. The dead men, their insides pulverized into liquid, were proof of that. I tore a piece of cloth from my red plaid shirt and wrapped the amulet before easing it from around father’s neck.
“I thought…forgive me, son.” More coughing. “I thought I could protect you…all of you. But it’s too dangerous. People will always be after it. I wasn’t enough. I failed.”
“This isn’t your fault. Mom isn’t your fault.”
He nodded, grimacing. “It is, Sean. I couldn’t protect both my family and the amulet, and now…” Tears welled up in his eyes. “You must promise me.”
I gripped his hand, horrified by how cold it felt. “Anything.”
“You’re the only one that can protect it. Your brothers and sisters…they need each other. They need their families. Not you. You were always stronger. Stronger than even me. You’re the only one that can do it.”
“Do what?”
“You must hide the amulet. Keep it safe. Don’t let anyone get close. Promise me.”
“I promise, Dad. I’ll keep it safe.”
Relief seemed to creep through his body. His hand went limp and fell to the ground.
“Dad?”
“No!” I cried, sitting up in bed. Sweat ran along the side of my face as the dream slipped away. Not just a dream, I reminded myself. A memory. I hit the light beside the bed and found the sheets around me shredded. Great gashes ran through the sheets alongside my legs. I checked my sides and legs but found no hint of a scratch.
Dammit, I thought, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I was never going to get back to sleep. The phone next to the bed caught my eye. I shook my head, reminding myself that it was better this way. Better for everyone, even me, though it was lonely as hell. I’d always been the independent type, never really needing anyone. But that was because I’d always had so many people. It was different when you had no one. When you were really, truly alone.
Needing distraction, I went to my small, cramped office at the back of my cabin and pulled up the twenty-first floorboard from the wall. A small bundle lay in the dark cavity. Red plaid, frayed strings hanging off the edges. That was all I needed. To know it was there and safe. To remind myself that this wasn’t for nothing.
I walked back through the hallway, dropping my boxers to the floor on the way. There was only one way to get rid of the tension. I opened the door wide, unconcerned with being seen. Living in the middle of nowhere, only trees and a road ahead and more trees behind, had its advantages. There was no one to see.
I felt the change coming. It started like a ripple of energy, electricity. My hand gripped the door frame, nails lengthening. A roar ripped from me. The ripple became a wave, moving through everything. My muscles, my skin, my bones.
I landed with a heavy thud, on all fours, and gave a full-body shake. Damn, that feels better. Time to hunt. I took off down the steps, the wooden porch shaking beneath, and ran into the forest. But no matter how much I ran, the memory never left. I could still feel my father’s hand in mine, slipping away. If I was lucky, by the time I got back to my cabin, I would be exhausted enough to pass out for a few hours at least before starting another day. That’s as much as I could hope for anymore.
CHAPTER TWO
“Not open till five,” I called out when I heard the bar’s front door open. I was hauling cases of beer up the stairs from the basement. No answer came. I figured it was probably someone passing through, looking for directions but no such luck. I found Ryan behind the bar pouring a glass of beer from the tap.
“Hey, man,” he said, with an oblivious grin. He was a skinny, lanky guy. More like a kid than a twenty-five-year-old. A pain in my ass if there ever was one. Never seemed to shut up or take a hint. He could be funny sometimes, though. Once in awhile.
“Ryan,” I answered, taking the beer from his hand. He was the nephew of the owner, so it wasn’t like I could do anything about it. “Not open, yet. You know that.”
“Come on, man! I had a hell of a day, and I’m outta beer.”
“You mean your mom’s out of beer. Come back in an hour.” I took a long swig of the draft to make my point.
“That’s cold, Sean. Real cold.” He walked around to the other side of the bar and sat down on a stool.
I noticed then the bright white bandage wrapped around his hand. “What happened there?” I asked, before thinking better of it.
His eyes brightened under the ratty Bud Light hat he sported. Great, I thought, now he’s going to be talking for the next twenty minutes. “Work accident. Looked away for one second and BOOM! Hand caught under the saw.”
“One second my ass. You probably spend more time talking than you do even looking at where your saw’s going.”
He laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.” The chuckle faded slowly as he stared down at his hand. “It’s okay. Not that bad. Doctor says it’ll only take a couple weeks to heal. Can’t work though.” He yanked off his hat with his good hand, giving his scalp a scratch. “Two weeks,” he repeated. He chuckled, but a little too much. “Mom’ll love that.”
I’d forgotten his Mom was off work too. Permanent disability. She’d fallen off a ladder a couple of years ago and hadn’t worked since.
He slipped his hat back on. “Maybe I’ll mow some lawns or something.”
I took another glass from under the bar and pulled on the tap. Just this once. I slid the beer over to him and leaned back against the counter. He looked at me like I’d just given him the keys to a brand new Mercedes. It’s just a beer, dude, not a marriage proposal. Then again, I’d rarely strung more than five words to
gether to talk to him, so a free beer was a milestone. He took a long drink before smacking his lips. “Thanks, man.”
“Think you can lift boxes?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Can’t lift much weight.”
“Pour beers?”
His eyebrow lifted as he leaned in. “Why? You need some help around here?”
No, just making friendly conversation. You know how much I love idle chit-chat. I cleared my throat. “Yeah, it’s a busy time of year.” It wasn’t a complete lie, more of a stretch. It was slightly busier this time of year, what with campers making their way to or from the National Park down the road. Still nothing I couldn’t handle on my own.
“Don’t you have to clear it with Don?”
“Nah, it’s fine,” I lied. Don would hit the roof if he came in to find an injured guy who wasn’t even an employee working behind the bar, even if it was his own flesh and blood. But Don had taken the summer off to go fishing down in Barbados, so screw him.
“Really? Dude! This is way better than working down at the workshop! You make good tips right? When can I start?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Saturday’s are always the busiest night of the week. Go home, get cleaned up, and get back here. I’ll show you the ropes.”
He hopped off the stool, leaving his beer right where it was, barely touched. “All right, all right.” He was already moving towards the door. “You won’t regret this, I swear!”
I’m not so sure, I thought, watching him climb into his Ford truck.
Two hours later and the locals were starting to converge. Those that had to work Saturdays were just getting off work, and those at home all day were bored stiff and ready to socialize. Since hockey season was over this was the only place to be. I looked at my watch. Six o’clock. Another couple of hours and the out-of-towners would be stopping in for a cold one.
I heard my name and turned to find Stephanie leaning on her elbows over the bar, a bright grin on her face. “Tell me the boys are wrong.”
“Guess that depends on what they’re saying today.”
“You didn’t hire Ryan Redwood, did you?”
“It’s just for a couple weeks or so. Keep it to yourself, though. I don’t want word getting back to Don.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She arched a suspicious eyebrow.
“It’s a busy time of year. I was going to get someone to come in anyway.”
She snapped her gum. “Uh-huh. Well, if Ryan starts talking people’s ears off, it’s about to get a whole lot less busy in here.”
“Where else will they go?”
“Maybe I’ll keep the diner open longer. Turn it into a pub and grill or something.”
“Oh yeah? You’re going to work till three in the morning and get up again at six to start serving coffee?”
She made a face. “Okay, maybe not.”
“Figured as much.”
“I’m much more of a morning person anyway.”
Wasn’t that the truth. She was the type of person that hummed before ten o’clock in the morning. That shit should be illegal. “What are you having?”
“Keith’s, please.”
I pulled a bottle from the fridge and popped the cap.
“Thanks, Sean. Where is Ryan, anyway? Paul says he’s got a nasty story about an electric saw.”
“Sent him back to cut lemons.” I looked at my watch. “Shit, I should go see what’s taking him so long.”
I made my way through the back to the kitchen. It was small, with little more than a deep fryer, a range, and a fridge. Larry, a fifty-year-old, foul-mouthed veteran with a glass eye worked the stove on the rare occasion that there was a food order put through. Mostly French Fries and chicken fingers, nothing too complicated, but Larry always made it sound like it was rocket science. He was about as useful as tits on a bull, but apparently he and Don went back.
A dish of cut up lemons sat on the counter. “Where the hell is he?”
Larry looked up from his book. “Huh?”
“Ryan, you seen him?”
He shrugged.
“Never mind, go back to your book.”
He harrumphed but said nothing.
I opened the door to the basement. “Ryan?”
“Yeah, boss? Just down here, opening some boxes.” I heard the sound of a box cutter ripping through a cardboard box.
Great, an accident at work with a non-employee. Just what I need. I hurried down the stairs to find Ryan standing on a crate, stretching on his tip-toes, reaching a box that was at the back. Box cutter held high, sharp edge gleaming in the weak light, Ryan faltered slightly, the box shaking underfoot.
My reflexes kicked in, and I jumped over the railing and crossed the distance between us in seconds. Thank God there was no one else there to see my inhuman speed. I caught Ryan just as he toppled down from the crate. Unfortunately, Ryan caught me too. In the arm with the box cutter. I barely felt the sharp steel slice through my upper arm, but the sting wasn’t far behind. I hissed, dropping Ryan to the floor and slapped a hand over the cut. Blood seeped between my fingers.
“Oh, shit!” Ryan cried, dropping the box cutter. “I’m so sorry, Boss! Shit, I’m such an idiot.”
“It’s fine.” I let go briefly to grab a rag from the top of one of the boxes. It wasn’t the cleanest thing in the world, but I needed something to stop the bleeding. A small pool of blood was already gathering on the floor.
Ryan dug the fingers of his good hand into his hair. “Shit, should we call an ambulance or something?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll take the truck and go to the hospital. You and Larry watch the place while I’m gone.”
His eyes went wide. “What? Me?”
I started up the stairs. “Yeah…just stick to serving, okay? Stay away from knives, scissors…anything sharp.”
“Oh, yeah…sure thing, boss.”
I got an amused look from Larry as I entered the kitchen. The look fell away as soon as he found out he’d have to help out Ryan tonight. If I was lucky, there wouldn’t be many people at the hospital, and I could get this stitched up quickly.
But then, I’d never been very lucky.
CHAPTER THREE
“It’s him again,” I said, looking down at my phone. The light shone in the darkness with Christopher’s name blinking at me.
“Ugh, that piece of shit!” Emma came to my side to join me in staring at the screen. I hadn’t gotten around to changing the picture so his lying, cheating face stared up at us. “Can I tell him off? Please, Lacey, please?”
“No!” Although that would be something to witness. I hadn’t known Emma all that long. I’d only moved to Kodiak Cliff a few months ago, but she was fiercely protective of her friends. Nobody messed with that fiery red-head.
We sat in the car in front of the town bar. After today, I needed a drink. Or a barrel. “I still can’t believe it.” I stuffed the phone back into my bag. “After all I’ve done for him. I moved here to butt fuck nowhere for Christ’s sake!”
“Hey! Kodiak Cliff isn’t that bad.”
“I know, I know. It’s not this town; I just gave up a lot. I left Toronto. I gave up a job at a popular fashion blog to come here and work writing obituaries for the town rag. All because he got a residency position at the hospital here. And then I stop by to visit him and find him balls deep in some fucking nurse!”
“Ugh, he’s such a shit! Forget that guy. We’re going to go inside and have a great time.”
I nodded. “Right. Great time.” I reached into my bag again, taking out my phone. “I’m just gonna—”
“Nah-uh,” she said, snatching the phone out of my hand. “I’m confiscating this tonight. You can have it back tomorrow morning. Or if you get drunk enough to leave a really nasty voice-mail. Let’s go.”
With a sigh, I followed her from the car.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been to the Den before,” Emma said, walking to the front door.
I looked up at the sign. The Ko
diak Den. “What kind of name is that for a bar?”
She shrugged. “What kind of name is Kodiak Cliff for a town?”
“Fuck, I need a drink. I hope they aren’t playing country music in there.”
“Trust me, after five minutes of listening to all the guys shouting their bullshit from across the bar, you’ll be begging for Alan Jackson to drown them out.” She put an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, you need a night out. We’ll drink and ogle Sean. It’ll be fun.”
“Who?”
“You don’t know Sean? Ugh, of course, look who I’m talking to. He runs the place for Don, and he’s gorgeous. Half the women of the town only go there to stare at his fine ass. He’s practically a mute, but he’s a beautiful one. Seriously, I tried for about a month to catch his eye and nothing. Crickets. Now, I just ogle and fantasize. Anyway, you’ll meet a nice cowboy, maybe go for a ride in his pick-up. Just what you need to forget about Douchey McAsshat.”
I rolled my eyes. “The last thing I need is Douchey McAsshat 2.0, thank you very much. All I want is a stiff drink.”
She pushed the door open. “Let’s see if we can’t find you anything else that’s stiff.”
AC/DC blasted from inside. At least it’s not country. The scent of beer, smoke, and fried foods brought me straight back to my college years. I forgot almost instantly about the drink and wanted a big plate of chicken fingers and jalapeño poppers instead.
The place was big enough, with square tables all around, pool tables at one side and darts and a juke-box at the other. It was pretty packed for a small town like Kodiak Cliff. Just about every face I’d ever seen in town was right here under the roof of this little dive. A long bar sat at the back, surrounded by people, calling out to the tall, skinny, frantic guy behind the bar.
“What the hell’s Ryan doing? Sean’s gonna break his neck if he catches him behind the bar.”