River Bear (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Blue Bear Rescue)

by Terra Wolf

  She gulped the last of her drink and shoved her chair back, pushing to her feet. “I’m going for a refill.”

  “The waitress will be back soon,” Jake offered.

  She waved him off. “I’d rather mingle with the natives.”

  She made her way inside, her boots ringing out against the wood planks. The bar area was packed shoulder to shoulder with flannel shirts. Delilah smiled to herself at that, because it was the exact clichéd scene she might have pictured from her loft apartment in the city. At least it didn’t smell like cow pies, and almost everyone had a full row of teeth. Somewhere she couldn’t see was a jukebox playing country.

  She wedged herself in between two dusty cowboy hats, and when the bartender caught her eye, she held up her empty glass. The older woman nodded and held up two fingers.

  Perfect. Two minutes to eavesdrop.

  The man on her left was chatting it up with another guy about beef prices and some new shipping tax. She shifted away. On her right, shots were lined up, and the man’s face drooped as he stared into the clear liquid in the tiny glass. Bad day. Not what she was here for.

  She angled once more and tuned into the foursome at the booth behind her. They spoke in low voices barely audible over the music and the roar of voices. Damn. She needed to get closer.

  Hoping for nonchalance, she wandered toward the door and stopped between the exit and the side of their booth, scrolling idly through her phone. It would have worked better to text someone for a cover, but you needed friends for that. She settled for deleting spammy emails.

  “…Fucking DOT is a waste of time,” one of the men said. She stole a look out of the corner of her eye and recognized him as the one Laurel said had been to see her boss. “It’s time to take things to the next level.”

  “That little fucker better take the bait,” said another. Lyle, she knew from the glimpse of flannel, as she pretended to stare down at her phone.

  “Damn straight, I plan on taking my payout down to Nancy’s Knockers,” said a third, and they all snickered.

  She twitched, resisting the urge to turn and get a good look at them all. What the hell did they have to do with DOT? Maybe they worked there? And who were they baiting?

  Her fingers flew now as she raced to type in the exact conversation she’d just heard. Maybe it would make sense later.

  “Can I help you?” The first man’s voice rose sharply.

  She looked up and found all four of the men staring at her. Busted. She hit send on the email to herself and then faced the men. “Oh, hey, boys. Just texting my BFF while I wait for my refill.” Her phone dinged with the new email message, and she held it up, jiggling it as proof.

  “You’re not from here,” the man Laurel had seen said. And now she had a good look at his stubbled face. No DOT uniforms on any of them.

  “Nope, from the city. Just getting away for the week.”

  “You’re a tourist?” said another. Shorter than the first. Beanpole.

  “Yep,” she said brightly. “Well, bye.”

  She moved away, but the man on the end jumped up, blocking her path. Lyle. His thick beard covered his face, but his dark, beady eyes shone through just fine. Mean eyes. He moved closer, hovering and glowering down at her in a flannel that smelled like it hadn’t been washed recently. “Funny. Most tourists don’t get invited to sit with the Wilde Crew.”

  She lifted a brow. “I’m just lucky, I guess.” When she didn’t shrink or back away, he grabbed her wrist. “Take your hand off me,” she warned him.

  But he held fast, squeezing harder when she tried to wriggle away. “Not so fast. What did you say your name was again?”

  The rest of the men fell silent. Hot anger bubbled in her chest, and she closed her hands into fists. They might be all ready for some small-town showdown, but she’d had enough of their shit.

  “Actually, I didn’t.” She raised her boot and brought it down hard on Lyle’s foot, digging her heel in as hard as she could.

  He yelped and jumped back, releasing her. The other three scrambled out of the booth and came toward her. She backed away, slamming her glass hard against the nearest table top. It shattered, and she brandished the jagged piece she still held, waving it in front of her.

  The rest of the customers gave a collective gasp. She wanted to laugh at how cliché the whole thing was—even the fact that Wynonna kept right on singing through it all. But she had four angry cowboys on her hands now and not a friendly face in sight. They all just stared back at her, some in surprise, some in distaste. Clearly, no one was going to lift a finger to help the tourist.

  To her right, the door banged open so hard, the glass cracked.

  Jake stepped inside, hands fisted, muscles bunched. His gaze was furious and glorious as he gave her a once-over. His eyes widened fractionally when he spotted the broken mug in her hand. “You all right?” he asked in a voice that was violently calm.

  She nodded. “Peachy.”

  He shifted, his fury pinning the man with beard where he stood. “Lyle. Is there a problem?”

  One by one, Xavier and the rest of the crew filed in behind Jake. None of them moved to stop him or take over. They all stood back except for Harley, who came over and stood beside her with arms crossed.

  “Please say there’s a problem,” Harley murmured.

  “No problem,” Lyle said, casting a glance at Jake, then the door, and then back again.

  “Rita, they owe a tab?” Jake called.

  “Damn right they owe their tab,” called the older woman behind the bar.

  Lyle motioned to the skinny man next to him. “Pay the damn tab, Tim,” Lyle snapped as if the whole thing was Tim’s fault.

  Tim produced a small wad of cash and handed it off to Rita. She pocketed it without counting. “Where’s my change?” Tim asked, and Lyle smacked the back of his head.

  “Time to go,” Jake said.

  Delilah held her breath as the men walked past Jake. Even from here, she could feel the air charged and heated. She didn’t have to be a shifter expert to know he was close to changing. She could smell the animal scent in the room. But Jake didn’t back up or move an inch as Lyle, Tim, and the other two scrambled out.

  The moment the door shut behind them, the silence broke.

  Half the bar cheered, and the other half turned right back to their conversations and drinks. Delilah didn’t miss the handful of glares Jake and the others earned, but she decided to let it go for tonight. Made a mental note of their faces for later.

  Harley spun on his heel and disappeared back to the deck.

  Jake came toward her and stopped short just before reaching for her arm. He seemed to change his mind and instead, gently pried the broken mug from her hand. “You’re all right, really?” he asked, and she could hear the worry in his voice.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Are you okay? I thought you were going to kill him.”

  “Considering it,” he said, and she could see he meant it.

  “You smell like an animal,” she blurted and then scrunched her face. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

  “I know what you mean. My bear was about three seconds from smashing some heads.”

  “But you stayed calm,” she said and cocked her head at him. “Impressive.”

  “If I’d shifted, I would have hurt you too,” he said quietly.

  “Nah, I doubt it,” she said, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

  Jake set the mug aside and held her wrist up gingerly. “He grabbed you.”

  “It’s nothing,” she said, yanking her arm away. Mostly because she was enjoying his fussing over her way too much. She could definitely get used to having someone to worry about her.

  Jake looked like he was about to argue, but a girl appeared beside them. Their waitress. She handed Delilah a beer complete with a chilled mug. “This one’s on the house. Rita says you handled that asshole Lyle like a real badass. She said you could hang out here with the Wilde Crew anytime.”


  Delilah took the beer and smiled. “Thanks.” She caught Rita’s eye from behind the bar and raised her mug in silent cheers. Rita nodded back. The waitress walked off, and Delilah turned back to find Jake staring at her with a strange look.

  “What?” she asked, sipping the beer gratefully.

  That altercation had made her extra thirsty.

  “Nothing, I—” He ran a hand through his hair, sending it into disarray. Delilah caught herself staring appreciatively at the way his bicep flexed with the movement. “You’re tougher than I expected,” he said finally.

  She arched a brow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Well, you’re still human, obviously, so you’re fragile as hell. But you’re tougher than most.”

  She scrunched her brows, totally confused by his words and his tone. He sounded hopeful, though she had no clue why. “Again, are you complimenting me or insulting me?”

  Jake stared off at some spot on the wall behind her. She resisted the urge to shake him. He looked so caught up in some memory, and his expression had lost that stern fury from earlier. Instead, he looked sad. Wistful. It tugged at her chest, that vulnerable look on a man as big and strong as Jake.

  “Jake?” She laid a tentative hand on his arm, but he snapped back the moment she touched him. He stepped away.

  “Good job with Lyle,” he said finally. Before she could reply, he turned and disappeared outside.

  She stared after him, her frustration on par with her attraction. She’d never had a problem following her “no sex with clients” rule. At least not until the moment she’d met Jake River. Since the moment he’d expressed his attraction, she’d considered giving in and breaking her own rule. Just having some fun.

  God, what an idiot. She’d actually thought she could come out here, identify the problem, wrap it all in a nice ribbon for Xavier Wilde, and be done with it. Easy day. Maybe even have a roll in the sheets with Jake as a parting gift. But now, after whatever had just happened with Lyle, and on top of that, whatever was going on between her and Jake, she knew it wouldn’t be like that. Without a doubt, things with Jake weren’t going to be casual.

  In fact, nothing about this job felt easy.

  Four

  Jake watched Delilah closely for the rest of the night. By the time they left Mack’s, he was second-guessing whether she really was the girl from Nash’s vision or not. Nash didn’t seem to recognize her, which made him feel better until he remembered Nash hadn’t ever seen a face. Fucking inconvenient, that. If he’d had a second alone with his friend, he would have asked Nash about it, but there hadn’t been time.

  The only five minutes she’d been out of his sight, she’d almost gotten herself tangled up in a bar fight with the only guy in town he’d ever considered actually eating for breakfast. Lyle Abrams was a piece of shit and not just according to Jake. Lyle’s last two wives, if they hadn’t left without a trace, could attest to that fact. Lyle wasn’t a nice guy.

  Hell, maybe Jake wouldn’t be the one to kill her after all. It was a wonder she hadn’t done it to herself already.

  He was both relieved and disappointed when the night came to an end, and he led her to his truck to drive her back to the motel. Delilah had gotten high-fives from Nash and Harley. Even Lucas had offered her a small smile and a “nice job” when they’d returned to their table and ordered dinner. But Jake couldn’t bring himself to congratulate her on worrying him sick.

  “Is this job anything like your others back in the city?” he asked as he drove through the quiet streets of downtown. Mostly to fill the silence. He was sick of replaying the memory of Lyle grabbing her like that.

  “Are you asking hypothetically, or about a specific case?” she asked, and even though he couldn’t see her expression, he knew from her tone she was making a point.

  “Privacy, got it,” he grumbled. “Never mind.”

  His phone rang, and he yanked it to his ear. “What?”

  “Jake,” Xavier said on the other end, “Sherriff Williams got a call. Someone ran off the road out by Route Six turnoff. Car’s halfway down the ravine, no word on the driver. You mind handling it after you drop Delilah off?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” he said with a sigh. He hung up with Xavier, knowing full well there would be a third degree later for his mood today. He was usually such a laid back guy, but today had run his nerves raw.

  He really hoped Delilah wrapped up her job here soon. But even as he thought it, his bear growled at the idea of her leaving town.

  “You’re going to rescue someone?” Delilah’s question caught him off guard. “Your phone’s volume is pretty loud,” she admitted.

  “I’ll drop you first,” he said.

  “Can I come with you?” she asked, and he frowned, wanting only to drop her somewhere he knew she’d be safe for a while. But it would help her to see them in action. See those claims in the reports from DOT were full of shit.

  “All right,” he said, and made the turn off the main highway that would take them out to Route Six.

  He almost missed the disabled truck. Without street lights or road markers, it was dark as pitch outside. He caught sight of a dark blue pickup parked crookedly on the shoulder and hit his brakes, pulling up short in front of the truck instead.

  “I thought the truck was halfway down the ravine,” Delilah said.

  He glanced out the back windshield, noting the empty cab. “So did I.”

  He got out, aware of the pit forming in his belly. He didn’t like the way this felt at all. No sign of a driver. No light of any kind beyond his bear’s heightened senses. They were in the middle of fucking nowhere, and something felt off.

  Delilah fell into step beside him, and he stopped, whipping his head around when he noticed her. “You should wait in the truck,” he said.

  “Where’s the driver?” she asked, ignoring him and approaching the truck.

  He bit back a growl and scanned the ravine below before turning to the tree line that ran roadside starting twenty yards away. All of it was empty. “Not sure,” he said, and a ripple of unease ran down his spine.

  He reached the truck and did a complete 360. No damage. Not a single sign of a crash. “Weird,” he muttered.”

  “What is it?” Delilah asked, wandering closer to peek in the truck window.

  “Nothing’s wrong with it,” he said.

  Delilah leaned against the passenger window and then snapped back. “Holy… Jake come here.”

  He rushed to the window of the truck and peered inside. Hot pink fliers with his face pasted on them stared up at him from the seat. Across the top in black letters, it said, “WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE.” And underneath, it named an insane dollar figure for returning him dead. The delivery address was someplace up the mountain, past the resorts he patrolled for. He made a mental note to check it out later.

  “I don’t understand,” Delilah said. “I ran background checks on all of you. None of you had a record.”

  “Damn right we don’t,” Jake said, still staring. Fliers were strewn everywhere, and he spotted Xavier’s face and Harley’s too. Lucas and Nash were both there, although their stack wasn’t as high.

  “This isn’t a criminal wanted poster,” he said, backing away and scanning the area again, this time with his full animal senses.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Hunting posters. There’s a shop on the backside of the mountain that sells them during hunting season. Get back in the truck.” Someone was out here; he could smell them. He’d missed it before, so caught up in what the truck was doing up here and not down there. Delilah’s scent must’ve clouded his damned senses. Shit.

  He scanned the darkness, but he still didn’t see anyone. He honed in on the copse of trees twenty yards back and zeroed in. Something in there was breathing. He started walking that way.

  “Wait, so, instead of hunting deer or whatever’s in season, they’re hunting you?” Delilah asked. He didn’t answer. His bear was close, and
everything in him was poised and ready for danger. The need to protect Delilah and his crew from this enemy was overwhelming. “Where are you going?” He heard her footsteps behind him, but he didn’t stop, shedding his shirt as he went.

  “Get back in the truck, Delilah,” he repeated through clenched teeth.

  “Is there someone out here?” she asked, still ignoring.

  “Dammit, woman.” He pulled up short, unbuttoning and shucking his pants. He dropped them on the gravel at his feet and Delilah’s eyes widened. At least he had her attention. “Get back in the truck. Now.”

  She nodded once and then took off for the truck. He rolled his eyes to the sky and then resumed his trek toward the trees.

  Behind him, someone yelled, and Delilah shrieked.

  He turned back in time to see a dark figure swing an arm out at Delilah. She darted sideways, and the man’s fist caught her in the shoulder. She went down, and Jake took off.

  He changed midstride, his polar bear exploding out of his skin in a wave of fury. The man looked up, but he didn’t have a chance to move away before Jake crashed into him. Jake’s ears roared with the rush of the change and the fight. He couldn’t think straight. Protect. It was his only thought. The man screamed. They both went down and Jake bit and clawed until the man went limp and his cries died off.

  By the time he came up for air, Delilah was on her feet near the hood of his truck watching him intently. Even on four paws, he was almost eye level with her, and he watched her, his breath huffing out of his snout in little puffs. Around them both, everything was still. He knew the nocturnal animals had all fled, but even better, he didn’t sense a single person besides the two of them out on this road. She was safe.

  He watched her carefully; sure she’d bolt at any second. He had to be intimidating in this form. She’d made it clear she’d never worked with shifters before. And now here he was, his polar bear chasing down and killing a man right in front of her. He braced himself for what she must think of him now.

  “Jake, it’s okay,” Delilah said softly. Her voice broke as her gaze darted to the body lying beside where he stood. He didn’t bother to look at it too. He could smell the blood in the air. But there was no trace of fear as she looked back at him, only concern.