The Bear's Heart: Clanless Book 2

by Victoria Kane

  “How’s that going to help?”

  “Oh it’s not, but you need a night out, a night to forget about your brother, evil crime lords, and false charges.” He pulled her up off the couch as he spoke, pulling her into an embrace. “Besides, it’s Wednesday.”

  “And what is Wednesday?” she asked, snuggling against him.

  “It’s wing night you heathen,” came the response, his chest vibrating against her ear as he spoke. “We’ll go out, have a few drinks, eat too many wings, and then we’ll take a fresh look at things tomorrow.”

  Laura had precisely zero idea how many chicken wings this man would consider too many, but she was willing to bet it was a lot. She had witnessed him eat more hot dogs at one time than any sane person would consider reasonable. He had been recovering from a gunshot wound, to be fair.

  “That sounds great, actually,” Laura answered. “Anything is better than spending another night going around and around in my head.”

  Rick chuckled. “You’ll still be going around and around, it’ll just be on a dance floor instead.”

  “You dance?” she blurted out, hearing the surprise in her own voice.

  “Don’t sound so surprised darlin’,” he drawled back, playing up his country accent. “I’m an onion.”

  “Biggest damn onion I’ve ever seen,” she muttered under her breath, knowing he would hear her. His chest just shook as he laughed.

  Chapter 5

  They left the cabin to walk into town just as the sun was beginning to slide below the horizon. Laura did the best she could to dress up, which ended up being a light grey t-shirt with a pair of short denim shorts and some cute strappy sandal type shoes. Rick didn’t seem to mind, however. He had just looked her up and down and growled approvingly.

  She missed her wardrobe in New York. It seemed like such a petty thing to fret over at a time like this, but there it was. You dress up every day and present yourself in a certain way until you feel like that presentation is part of you.

  Maybe it was healthy though. Laura supposed that if you cut away everything non-essential about your identity, then maybe what you ended up with would be a leaner, more real self. Like a boat that sails for years and years picking up barnacles and moss on the bottom, then gets it all cleaned off at once.

  Or maybe she was just doing her best to avoid thinking about the current situation, she thought glumly. Speculating about life was a lot easier than confronting the idea that maybe she would never get justice for Craig.

  She waited in the driveway while Rick locked the door behind him. He was wearing his customary uniform, a blank v-neck t-shirt, today in white, with blue jeans and sneakers. After finding out that afternoon that she thought a bit of stubble looked good on him he had chosen not to shave. His musculature made lines in the fabric of the shirt, his huge arms straining at the sleeves.

  To any extent that she was someone who had built up superfluous elements to her identity, Rick represented the opposite. He was plain and simple. Not stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but practical and deliberate instead.

  The week before Laura had remarked on all his t-shirts being plain. “I ain’t no billboard,” he had responded. “If some company wants me to advertise for them, well they better pay up.”

  They started off towards town. Rick had decided to leave his truck at the cabin. If he drank beer anything like he ate hotdogs then she thought that was probably the right choice. That left them with a thirty minute walk into town, but she didn’t mind.

  Their walk was punctuated by an occasional car driving by and a cabin here or there. Most had lights on at this time of year. This area was popular with ‘townies’ (as the locals called them) and retired people to spend summers in, and right now was probably peak season. A few more weeks and the winds would get a bit chillier, signaling to any remaining vacationers that it was time to head back to their other life.

  Her hand slipped into his as they walked along the side of the road, though the difference in height between them meant that her arm had to hinge ninety degrees at the elbow to make it work.

  Laura remembered something she had meant to ask earlier. “Rick, do shifters age the same way humans do?”

  “We age,” he said, looking down at her. He was standing between her and the street, something she noticed he always did when they walked together. “But we don’t age as fast as humans do. We stay the same up until eighteen or so, then kind of slow down compared to you guys.”

  “So how old are you?” Laura asked.

  “I’m forty-five,” he answered, grinning down at her.

  “Forty-five?” she sputtered, momentarily dumbstruck. Rick didn’t look a day over twenty-seven.

  “Yeah, I’m a youngin’ by shifter standards,” he said, clearly enjoying her reaction. “An old shifter can live to be one hundred and eighty or so, maybe even two hundred.”

  “You realize that if he was still alive, my dad wouldn’t be much older than you right?”

  “Age is just a number hun.” His blue eyes sparkled down at her as he spoke. “But if it helps, I’ll try to act extra immature around you.”

  “I thought you were already doing that,” she muttered. She knew her smile would take any bite off that.

  After that they walked in silence for a time while Laura digested what she had learned. Rick might live to be two hundred? It was a lot to take in. It was also hard to see how she would fit in his life. When she was starting to really deal with aging he would still probably be in the prime of his life! What did that mean for them?

  She decided to put it out of her mind for now. It was just another thing that she would have to figure out later. That and everything else about her life.

  They arrived at the intersection where the main road through town cut across the smaller road that led to Rick’s cabin. There were streetlights here, and if the dimming light was any indication they would be coming on shortly. They turned and continued on. The main downtown area was still a few minutes away. Cars passed them more frequently now, though the street was still far from busy.

  “Rick,” Laura started slowly, feeling her way along. “Do you want me to become a shifter too?”

  “Not right now, no,” came his reply. His voice was softer than when they were trading barbs, as if he too was feeling his way through this conversation. “It’s never easy for someone to become a shifter. They have to adjust to living with a new set of instincts, animal instincts. It’s not easy on anyone, least of all someone who’s just gone through the trauma you have.”

  It hurt to hear Rick say that, though she understood what he meant. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t been the most stable person over the last two weeks, have I?”

  “It’s understandable. Most people wouldn’t have been able to be as strong as you’ve been so far.” He’d stopped walking now, and had turned to face her.

  “I don’t feel very strong right now,” she muttered, momentarily reminded of her complete inability to get justice for Craig.

  “Strong isn’t always throwing people into walls,” Rick replied, still looking into her eyes. “Sometimes the best strong can do is to resist breaking where anyone else would.”

  Laura brushed a tear from the corner of her eye and smiled up at him. “You know, you’re pretty sweet sometimes.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said with a chuckle. “But the rest of the time I’m a sexual predator cruising around for victims, don’t forget.”

  She couldn’t resist bursting out in laughter at that. “Thanks Rick. I mean it. For everything.”

  “We done with the sentimental stuff yet? I can almost smell those chicken wings.” As if to accentuate his point, his stomach let out a loud rumble.

  “Not quite yet,” she said, pressing herself into him and pulling his head down for a kiss.

  Their quiet moment was spoiled by a cars honk as it drove by.

  “Alright, time to go. I can’t be seen necking with a fugitive in public,” Rick said, setting off and pull
ing her along behind him. “It just won’t do.”

  “Alright,” muttered Laura, chuckling and allowing herself to be pulled along.

  They reached the bar a few minutes later. There were a number of cars and trucks parked outside, most of them older and somewhat beat up looking. The bar itself was exactly what you’d expect in a place like Blackendale, a ramshackle building with a sign above it that read ‘The Bar’ in red neon lights. Country music poured out as the door opened, an older couple coming out together.

  Laura had to admit, there was something charming about living in a place where an establishment could call itself ‘The Bar’. It was a nice reminder of how small the community of Blackendale really was, but small could often meant comfortable. The size and impersonal nature of New York seemed more and more alienating the longer she spent out here.

  Entering the bar was like walking into a movie from the nineties. The music was just loud enough to make talking difficult, and it fit the atmosphere perfectly. Some guy singing about his truck. Probably a guy named Kenny. Only a man named Kenny could have that much love for a truck. Smoke filled the space. Laura was fairly sure that smoking in bars was actually illegal in Wisconsin, but apparently this place hadn’t gotten the memo. The walls were plain wood paneling, decorated with everything from a fake buck head to beer posters and pictures of former presidents. The tables throughout the bar were maybe half occupied.

  Most eyes turned toward them as they entered, but not for more than a few seconds. Apparently Rick had been around town long enough that most people recognized him. He sure stood out. He led her to a small circular table set next to a wall and pulled a chair out for her. She laughed out loud. Actually it might have been more of a giggle, but she was pretty sure the sound had covered it up. Has a man ever pulled a chair out for me before?

  It wasn’t that Laura looked to men to do things for her that she could easily do herself. Quite the opposite, really. After coming out of college she had dived straight into a career, and so had been accustomed to taking care of herself. She wasn’t even sure she would have appreciated a man pulling a chair out for her before now. But something about how Rick did it, his demeanor… It was totally charming. His attitude towards these small gestures was that it was his privilege to do them for her. Who was she to say no to that?

  She sat down as Rick moved his chair next to hers. She smiled a little at him and nodded her understanding. He wouldn’t have had any trouble hearing her speak from across the table, even with the music, but he knew she would have.

  She looked at Rick’s chair doubtfully as he sank into it, but it accepted his bulk with only a slight wobble. He leaned in closer to her with a grin. “Bet you don’t have any places like this in New York, do you?”

  “There might be, but if anyone reports it to a city inspector they’d probably have to burn it to the ground,” she responded, keeping her face as deadpan as she was able.

  The waitress arrived at their table just then. She was an older woman who looked like she had lived rough, but her smile was warm. “Hey Rick, nice to see ya. Who’s your lady friend?”

  “Hey Joline, this is Lauren,” he replied, his deep voice cutting through the music easily. “She’s an old friend from school who’s staying with me for a bit.”

  “I bet she is,” Joline said, looking Rick up and down lasciviously. Her gaze switched to Laura. “You’re lucky I’m not twenty years younger missy, otherwise there’d be nothing left of this here man.”

  “Oh, I bet you Rick here would be more receptive to older women than you might think, Joline,” Laura said, directing a wink at Rick.

  He mock scowled back at her. “Hey now.”

  “What can I get for you two?” their waitress asked.

  “We’ll take two dozen wings and a couple beers. Thanks Joline.”

  She nodded and trundled off, stopping to shout their order into the kitchen window, which was set against the wall next to the bar.

  “Now what was that about me and older women?” Rick asked, leaning back in his chair a bit. It creaked alarmingly, apparently not as stable as it had first seemed.

  “Well I mean, you’re probably only a couple years younger than her, right?” Laura jibed, barely able to hold in laughter.

  “I’m young at heart,” he said back, his tone carrying his hurt to her.

  Laura smiled at him, this time sincerely. Rick had leaned into her as they spoke so she could better hear over the honky tonk guitar. They passed a few minutes in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence along with the general atmosphere.

  “So I’m Lauren now, am I?” she asked, breaking their short silence.

  “That was just off the cuff, sorry. Didn’t seem like a good idea to use your real name. Might make people think about that girl the police were asking around about before.”

  She smiled and laid a hand on his arm. “You’re probably right.”

  The front door opened then, and three men strode in. They were dressed somewhat similarly, with dark t-shirts sporting what looked like the logos of metal bands, blue jeans and boots. Two of the three had hair down to their shoulders, while the third had his cut a bit shorter. They looked muscular, but in a way that was much different from Rick. Where he was huge, taller and broader than almost anyone she had ever met, they were of a more average build. The only word Laura could think to describe them was lithe. The men’s eyes stopped at their table and stayed there for a few heartbeats, one of the men leaning into the other two to say something. They all laughed, then sauntered over to the bar.

  “Fuck,” Rick muttered beside her. She barely caught it, and wasn’t sure she had been meant to.

  “Who are those guys?” Laura asked, concerned. Rick wasn’t the type to be worried about a few small town toughs.

  He leaned in even closer than before, his voice dropping so low she could barely hear. “They’re shifters, from the local wolf pack. The one with shorter hair is the pack’s alpha. His name is Dillon.”

  Rick had told her something of how shifters organized themselves in the world during their two weeks together. Wolf packs all had a leader, whoever best displayed both strength and cunning. In situations where there was no clear consensus about who that would be, it would be solved by individual combat. He hadn’t gone into great detail about the local pack, but he had seemed somewhat disapproving when speaking about them.

  She turned her head to his ear and whispered back, very quietly. She had become somewhat used to the acuity of shifters hearing, and understood that Rick didn’t want the new arrivals to be privy to their conversation. “Is it bad that we’re here? Should we go?”

  “Naw, we should be alright, I’ve gone out of my way to avoid problems with them so far,” he replied, voice a little bit higher now. He may have meant for them to hear that.

  Glancing back at the men, she saw that they were all three now staring at them, clearly arguing about something from the furrowed brows and gestures. Glancing at Rick, she saw that he had noticed as well, though he shook his head at her to signal that he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  Finally, the one with shorter hair shook his head and gestured for the other two to leave it be. It appeared the decision had been made to allow their presence here, as the men took their beers from the counter and went to sit at a table on the other side of the bar.

  Rick breathed a sigh of relief, some of the tension that had built up leaving his body. It almost seemed as if he had expected violence to break out then and there, though she couldn’t fathom why. From what she knew of his kind, it didn’t seem like them to want to brawl in public. They were supposed to be deathly serious about protecting their secret, and getting thrown in lockup for getting involved in a bar fight wasn’t really in keeping with that. She would have to wait until later to ask him about it though. It was too risky to try to have that conversation here.

  Joline arrived back at their table then, a tray balanced on one hand holding two bottles of beer and a large pl
ate of chicken wings with an empty bowl beside it. She set them down on the table, stopping to favor Rick with a smile and a wink before heading back to the bar.

  Laura grabbed her beer and took a long pull on it. It had been a taxing couple of weeks. She had not been a huge drinker in her old life, but alcohol was a staple of the social scene in any city, and the advertising business in particular relied on personal connections. Those connections were often forged over drinks at the various events held around the city on any given evening. She had come to enjoy a drink or two after a long day at work, like many in the profession.

  Rick had skipped the beer and dived straight into the chicken wings, devouring them with a speed and precision that was astonishing. When a bone got tossed in the spare bowl, there was never so much as a scrap of meat left on it. He wasn’t joking when he said he was hungry.

  “Woah there, don’t eat the bones too,” Laura muttered with a smile, grabbing a wing for herself. Rick slowed down a bit, his abashed grin showing that he’d heard her perfectly well.

  They spent the next few minutes eating and enjoying their beer. The wings were delicious, big and juicy. Laura actually caught herself eating too fast at one point, grease from the wings running down her chin. It was her turn to look abashed, though Rick didn’t seem to notice. She was fairly sure he was just pretending, though.

  A glance at the table the shifters had sat down at showed that their leader, Dillon, was looking her way. Something about the way he looked at her sparked a memory in her, but she couldn’t think of what it was.

  Rick excused himself to go use the bathroom, his departure marked by a belch. He was a gentleman most of the time, but apparently country music chased a little bit of that out of him. She looked back at the other shifters. Dillon was still looking at her. He was far enough away that it was hard to be sure, but his expression seemed almost…knowing.

  It hit her then. How did I forget about that? The wolves in the forest behind Rick’s cabin. Something about the way he was looking at her told her that he was the wolf who had called off the attack on her that day. His eyes maybe. It should be impossible to tell from this distance, but she could swear that she saw the same striking grey color.