Secrets of the Bear (Trapped in Bear Canyon Book 4)

by Terry Bolryder

  “We’ve made it worse.”

  “I need to go back to him,” Val said urgently.

  “No,” Ros said. “He ran from you. It can wait. Either he needs alone time or he doesn’t. But he made that choice, not you. You already came running back to him once. It’s his turn to calm down and come to you. Besides, it’s been a rough couple days. You two need to calm down.”

  The best days of her life, despite all the hardships. She’d been with Francis again, her best friend. The man she’d loved without really knowing it.

  Now that she knew it, being apart was difficult.

  “Come on,” Ros said. “We’ll go home, watch a chick flick, let everyone cool down, and brainstorm what to do when he does come.”

  “You think he will?”

  “Yeah,” Rock said. “I don’t think he can stay away long. You’re mated.”

  “Right,” Val said with a sense of wonder. “We are.” She shook her head. “Oh, I feel like such a fool. He was going to tell me what had happened. That’s why he was so nervous. So guilty. He felt bad for something that completely wasn’t his fault, and then right when he got up the courage to tell me, I told him I didn’t want it.”

  “What a mess,” Rock said. “But if Ros and I are proof of anything, it’s that messes can be fixed.”

  “True,” Ros said. “So let’s go regroup at our place and figure this out together, okay? Let him have some time.”

  “I guess I can agree with that,” Rock said. “If he seriously went in his room and shut the door, then he probably needs it.”

  Valerie sank back against the seat, thinking of Francis alone in his home, pacing, feeling hurt. She wanted to ease his spirit, but she was still figuring out how she felt about being accidentally mated.

  And they had time, right?

  Harvey wiped off the bar at the end of his shift, glancing at the clock on the wall and thinking about how late it would be before he got home that night.

  He stretched and looked over as the door to the bar opened. “We’re closed,” he said, sounding a bit grumpier than he intended.

  Still, Harvey didn’t suffer fools, and anyone who came into a bar when clearly there was a closed sign on the door was missing a few brain cells.

  He set down his rag and came around the bar just in case there was trouble, but the man who poked his head in wasn’t anything like Harvey had expected.

  He was tall, well dressed, with a black pea coat over a business-dress outfit. His hair was blond, slightly shaggy over his ears, and he was handsome in a way Harvey could never hope to be, with long, straight features and clear gray eyes.

  Stupid pretty boy model types.

  Harvey scented the air. Shifter, too. Probably bear. Probably grizzly based on height.

  The man walked in as comfortable as if he owned the place, despite the faux-humble expression on his face.

  “I know you’re closed, but I was hoping you could help me find someone.”

  “Find who?”

  “I’m looking for a woman named Valerie. She’s my wife.” The man’s voice was quiet, but his eyes were dead. And Harvey, who considered himself a pretty good judge of people, didn’t like him at all.

  He began to roll up the cuffs of his shirtsleeves. “What do you want with her?” He’d met Valerie the other night and really liked her, until Francis had staked a claim. But he felt loyal to Francis, too. He did a lot for the town.

  If someone was trying to hurt either of them, they’d have to deal with Harvey first.

  “I don’t remember her mentioning a husband,” Harvey said suspiciously. “I think you need to get out of Bear Canyon and never come back.”

  The man let out a small breath as he shed his pea coat and then began unbuttoning his fancy-looking shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Harvey asked.

  The man gave him a sidelong glance, still totally calm. “I hate getting blood on my clothing. It’s too nice for blood like yours.”

  Harvey snarled. “How about yours? Is your blood good enough?” Harvey knew he had a hot temper, but he was also pretty sure no matter what he did to this cretinous piece of shit, it would be justified.

  He didn’t like the look in his eyes at all or the way he talked about blood.

  Harvey lunged at the other man with a lightning-fast fist but found himself caught by the throat and lifted into the air. He felt claws biting into his neck and saw fangs forming on the other man’s canines as he smiled, looking gleeful.

  “That’s right. Struggle,” he said. “It makes it better. Fight me, harder.”

  Harvey did, clawing at his hands. He let his own claws out, partially shifting, and dug into the stranger’s hands, and the stranger released him with a yelp.

  Harvey struck out with a kick, but the man caught his leg and used it to toss him into the window, which shattered, glass flying out into the night.

  “Bastard,” Harvey growled. He was nothing if not good at taking hits, and he recovered and charged, catching his opponent around the middle.

  The man roared and partially shifted, bear fur ripping through his clothing. He lashed out with a hard set of claws, catching Harvey across the face and knocking him back onto the ground.

  The man was on him in a second, slashing down at him, tearing him apart.

  Harvey put up his arms to block him and felt those get slashed, too. Whatever this man was, he was too fast, too strong. Harvey had underestimated him.

  It wasn’t that he was a bigger shifter or even a better one. It was all about the look in his eyes and the fact that he had no soul to hold him back in a fight.

  Far from being afraid of killing, he looked as if he were about to enjoy it.

  Harvey fought off the man with one arm as best he could and reached for his phone with the other. He wasn’t even sure if he was able to pull up a contact or who he was calling, but he slammed on the call button over and over.

  It was all he could think about as he felt the blood draining out of his body.

  15

  Francis sat in the woods above his cabin, holding his cell phone in his hand and trying to figure out what he should say if he got the courage to call.

  Val had left for the night, and it had taken a couple hours for him to calm down, but already he wanted to see her.

  If she wanted to wait, if she wanted to change her mind a thousand times, that was fine. As long as she never left him for good.

  He didn’t blame her for leaving tonight. He’d been an ass, too wrapped in his own pain to realize she was trying to think about him.

  When he saw her next, he’d just have to tell her they were mated and let her make a decision on her own. He’d just have to be the best he could to her and hope that was enough.

  He set the phone beside him and lay down in the brush, not minding the twigs poking him from all directions.

  He’d only had a moment to stare up at the stars before his phone rang. Once.

  Then twice.

  He looked at the screen, not sure if he was ready to talk to anyone yet about how much he’d fucked up the night. He was sure Rock would yell at him.

  But it was Harvey’s name on the caller ID. He didn’t think Harvey had ever called him. Not that he could remember.

  He grabbed the phone and sat up, putting it to his ear, but he didn’t hear anything. Just some static-like, scratchy sounds. He said hello a few times and then hung up, lying back on the ground. Probably a butt dial or something.

  He checked the clock on the phone.

  The bar should have been closed. So should Harvey’s business.

  A sense of uneasiness pricked him and he stood, brushing sticks and leaves off as he walked back down to the cabin. He walked inside, grabbed his jacket and keys, and decided to head down to the bar just to see what was happening.

  When he reached the bar, he parked in the lot, but didn’t see anything unusual. He scented the air, and his hackles went up. Unless he was mistaken, that was the scent of blood. Lots of it
.

  He jumped out of his truck, ran to the front door, and yanked it open. Then he staggered back at the sight in front of him. Someone had fucked Harvey up, bad.

  He ran over to his fallen friend and reached for his blood-covered neck, searching for a pulse. It was there, faintly, and Harvey was a shifter. That gave him at least a chance at surviving this.

  He muttered something, his eyes swimming as they tried to focus, and Francis shushed him, looking for something to stop up his wounds.

  He propped Harvey up against the side of the bar. Then he pulled off his shirt and began tearing it into strips, which he tied around Harvey’s arms to stop the bleeding. He ran in the back room, looking for a first aid kit, and came back with a needle and thread for the biggest slashes.

  “What happened?” he asked as Harvey started to look a little more conscious.

  “This dude was beating the shit out of me,” Harvey said with a slight gurgle. “He stopped and ran when he heard your truck on the road.”

  Francis’s ears perked at the sound of his truck starting up. “Shit, I left the keys.” He jumped up and ran outside the bar just in time to see someone driving off in his truck.

  “Go,” Harvey said, taking the first aid kit from him. “I have rapid healing. How do you think I got so far in the Brawl? It wasn’t from sheer size.”

  “But—”

  “I’m fine,” Harvey said. “You need to catch that guy before he hurts someone else.”

  Thank heavens Val was at Rock’s place. She was safe as long as she was with Rock, but the dude could be headed anywhere in Francis’s truck.

  “Shit,” Francis said. “Do you have a car? Can I take it?”

  “I brought my Harley. Take it.” Harvey gestured to his pocket, and Francis gingerly pulled out the keys.

  “I’ll be back for you as soon as I can,” Francis said.

  “Nonsense,” Harvey said. “It’s only a scratch. And you already saved my life.”

  “Okay,” Francis said, eyeing Harvey’s bloody gashes doubtfully. “I feel like shit leaving you.”

  “Go,” Harvey said, sighing, wincing as he put a bandage over one gash. “Oh yeah, before he laid the beatdown, he asked about Val. Your mate.”

  Francis’s heart dropped like lead in a fathomless ocean.

  No, no, no.

  He ran out of the bar, nearly tripping down the steps and dashing to the side where Harvey kept his motorcycle. He started it and revved into the night, desperately hoping he wasn’t too late.

  He started up the hill toward Rock and Ros’s place, where he could find the person who meant the most in the world to him and make sure he was there to protect her.

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to go in with you?” Ros asked Val as they pulled up in front of Francis’s cabin.

  “No, you’ve already done enough,” Val said, opening the cab door and feeling an odd sense of trepidation as she stared at the cabin. “But I have to do the rest on my own.”

  Despite their insistence that Francis would come for her, she wanted to go to him and apologize. It didn’t really matter to her who made the first move as long as they worked it out together. And she didn’t want to wait.

  “I don’t know,” Ros said, looking up at the cabin. “We should at least make sure you get inside safe.”

  Val pointed at Francis’s truck parked outside. “He’s here. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t think he’ll want to see anyone but me at this moment. He may not even want to see me after how I acted, but I don’t want to wait anymore.”

  Ros sighed, looking over at Rock, who shrugged. “I mean, I guess he’s here. We can wait until she gets inside.”

  Rock nodded. “We’ll wait here.”

  Valerie hopped down into the gravel and started up the front steps that led into the cabin. There were no lights on downstairs, so where was Francis? Had he gone to bed already?

  She walked up to the front door and tested it, but it was unlocked. As if he expected her to come home.

  Maybe he’d cooled off and they could both admit they’d been a bit tightly wound. They could talk honestly about being mated and how they both felt about it.

  She walked inside and saw him standing in the shadows of the kitchen, his back to her. Was he still upset?

  He wasn’t saying anything, so she took a step forward, shutting the door behind her. She turned and waved to Ros and Rock, and they waved back, pulling away.

  She took another step toward the kitchen, taking a deep breath to steel herself. “Look, Francis. I know what happened. We need to talk.”

  He still said nothing, keeping his tall back in the shadows where she couldn’t even see him.

  “I know about us being accidentally mated,” she said. “And I don’t mind it. In fact, I’m ecstatic about it. It means there’s no reason to be afraid of that stupid Charles, because—”

  A light went on in the kitchen, throwing the figure into full relief. It was Charles, and he had blood on his clothing. All over it. His face was twisted in a snarl, and he took a step toward her.

  “On that, my dear stupid human, you would be dead wrong.” He was in front of her in a fraction of a second, letting her stare into his insane face as he grabbed her by the arms and shook her hard. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me, bitch?” He shook her again, then grinned at the dazed look in her eyes. “Now what’s this about being mated?” He sniffed the air. “You don’t seem fully mated to me.”

  “We are,” she said defiantly, even though she felt like a weak, broken mouse in the grip of a cat.

  Charles tossed her to the side, and she knocked against the couch, hitting her head on the cushioned arm. He stalked forward, his black pea coat with its glossy stains flying out behind him. He knelt in front of her, grabbing the collar of her shirt.

  “All right, you little bitch,” he said. “Tell me what happened. What makes you think you’re mated, and I’ll tell you why you’re wrong.”

  “We had sex,” she choked out because he was holding her too tightly. “No protection.”

  He released her with a laugh. “That’s it? Francis is stupider than I thought.”

  She gasped, catching her breath, loosening the neck of her shirt. “What do you mean?”

  Charles stood, looking triumphant. He folded his arms and looked down at her. “Francis may not know this because he may not know anyone who has mated a human, but it’s not just about sex like it is with shifters. You have to see his animal, too, and accept it.”

  He lunged forward lightning quick and grabbed her, lifting her into the air in front of him. “Something I won’t be allowing you to do.”

  He extended a hand and claws came out with a metallic sound. He raked them across the front of her shirt, cutting it open, revealing her bra. She screamed, and he reveled in it, pulling her closer to force a kiss on her mouth.

  She bit down on his tongue, and he flung her down angrily. This time she rolled and hit the wall.

  She glared up at him, ready to fight. He seemed surprised she wasn’t cowering, but then he seemed to like the idea of that, too.

  “I can see you aren’t going to make this easy for me,” he said, coming toward her and grabbing her hands in his, pulling his tie off so he could tie them together with a tight knot. “But that’s fine with me.”

  He grabbed her bound hands in one of his and dragged her easily toward the door, ignoring her kicks and struggles as if they were nothing. She tried to bite his hands, but couldn’t reach them.

  If only she could get to her phone.

  And where was Francis?

  Charles opened the front door and started dragging her through it and toward the front steps, holding both her hands in one of his.

  “So convenient for Francis to leave his car alone while he ran in to check on his friend that I fucked up. But he’ll probably be running back soon, so even though I’d love to take you on the living room floor where he’d be able to smell it, we’ll have to sett
le for a motel on the way to the airport.”

  She tried hard to fight as he dragged her over the deck toward the stairs leading down to the truck.

  When they were at the edge of the porch, looking down over the gravel drive, she heard the sound of an engine and saw headlights in the distance, coming toward the house.

  A motorcycle?

  Charles squinted into the darkness. “Shit.”

  There were lights around Francis’s place, so it was easy enough to see out here despite it being the middle of the night. As the motorcycle pulled up to the house, she could see the man on it clearer and clearer. Dark hair, only a tee shirt, which was whipping in the cold night air. Jeans. A huge build.

  Worried blue eyes.

  It was Francis. She sank in relief as he pulled into the driveway, dropped the bike, and headed for her and Charles.

  Not missing a second, Charles pulled Val up in front of him, holding a claw at her neck and pushing in, piercing the skin.

  Francis skidded to a stop. His tee shirt and jeans were both stained with blood. What was happening?

  “Let go of her, psycho,” Francis growled, clenching his large hands into fists.

  Charles just threw back his head and laughed as they all heard the sound of an engine and another truck pulled up, headlights on.

  When they dimmed, she saw it was Rock and Ros. They hopped out of the truck and ran over. “We came when we saw you speeding up here, but—”

  They stopped when Francis put up a hand behind him.

  Charles just stood there staring down at them. Then he lifted Val in both arms as she struggled. She met Francis’s eyes, could see the worry there, the determination.

  “That’s right,” Charles said. “Call off your friends or you’ll all watch me kill her. Or worse.” He wrapped his other clawed hand around her bare waist, her shirt hanging in tatters at her sides. He caressed her skin gently.

  Francis snarled. “Put her aside and face me, you fucking coward.”

  With shocking nonchalance, Charles tossed Val to the side. She rolled and then landed with a thump but was only worried about Francis as Charles advanced on him.