by Anya Nowlan
Double Bear Chase
Hockey Bear Season
Anya Nowlan
Contents
A Little Taste…
Copyright
Prologue
1. Finn
2. Hanna
3. Foster
4. Hanna
5. Hanna
6. Finn
7. Hanna
8. Foster
9. Hanna
10. Finn
11. Hanna
12. Foster
13. Hanna
14. Finn
15. Hanna
16. Foster
17. Hanna
18. Finn
19. Hanna
20. Foster
21. Hanna
22. Finn
23. Hanna
24. Hanna
25. Foster
26. Hanna
27. Finn
28. Hanna
29. Foster
30. Hanna
31. Finn
32. Hanna
33. Foster
34. Hanna
35. Finn
36. Foster
37. Hanna
38. Finn
39. Hanna
40. Foster
41. Hanna
Epilogue
Want More?
About the Author
Thank you for reading!
A Little Taste…
“Kelly!” a male voice called out from her side, but she paid it no mind.
“Kelly, hey,” the voice repeated, sounding closer this time.
Before Hanna could even react, someone grabbed her and pulled her onto the dance floor, whirling her around. Feeling dizzy and confused, she stumbled on her feet as she came face-to-face to the man who had his arm around her waist and was dipping her backward.
Shocked, she could only stare at him, mesmerized by his clear blue eyes and remarkable cheekbones. With his square jaw, full lips and expensive-looking haircut, he looked like he’d escaped from the cover of Men’s Health.
“Oops,” the man grinned down at her. “You’re not Kelly.”
“I definitely am not,” she replied, still hanging in his arms, her hair almost touching the ground. “Could you pull me up now?” she asked, annoyed at some stranger having his hands on her.
Yet her heart was beating faster and her breath came hard and fast, all of a sudden. The man looked dangerously delicious in the low light, his broad shoulders like a wall opposite her. She felt light as a feather as he effortlessly, even gracefully, pulled her back onto her feet.
But his hands remained around her waist as he started to move to the beat, pulling her along with him.
“Sorry about the mix-up,” he smiled, looking entirely unaffected by the glare Hanna was throwing her way.
The nerve of some people, she huffed to herself, but for some reason, she was unable to voice that sentiment.
Her body was already going along with the mystery man, her feet moving on their own as he swayed to the beat. All but pressed against his hard chest, Hanna felt warm, and her thoughts were in a tangled mess.
“I’m Finn, by the way,” the man added, grabbing her hand and spinning her around.
“Well, Finn,” Hanna said firmly, finding her voice again. “Could you please stop dancing with me?”
“But you’re having such a good time,” Finn smiled, maneuvering them across the floor with ease.
Copyright © 2017 Anya Nowlan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Double Bear Chase
Hockey Bear Season
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be used, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use. This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Anya Nowlan. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Cover © Jack of Covers
Prologue
Hanna
“I’m calling the cops,” Hanna warned, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she clutched her phone in between her fingers.
Staring at the door of her apartment, she couldn’t help but flinch when a heavy fist came down on it from the other side.
“I just want to talk,” a familiar male voice cajoled. “Come on, Hanna.”
She wasn’t fooled by that, not by a long shot. Her ex-boyfriend had shown his true colors, and there was no way she was opening that door for him. Question was, would he break it down?
“Go away, Vince,” Hanna called back, even though she knew it wouldn’t be much help.
“Don’t be like that,” Vince replied, a chuckle in his voice.
Dialing the last number, Hanna waited for someone to pick up while keeping an eye on the door.
“911, what is your emergency?” a calm female voice flowed into her ear.
“Yes, hello,” Hanna rambled, trying to find the right words. “There’s a man trying to get into my apartment and I’m afraid for my life,” she said, feeling tears spring to her eyes as she realized how true that statement really was.
“Alright, ma’am. What’s your address?” the dispatcher asked, accompanied by the sound of keyboard keys clicking.
“Hanna!” Vince yelled, angry rather than amused this time. “Stop that. Put the phone down and talk to me,” he demanded.
Hanna ignored him, rattling off her address instead. The woman on the other side confirmed that the police had been dispatched, and asked if Hanna would like her to stay on the line until the officers arrived.
“No. Just hurry,” Hanna replied, before ending the call.
She wasn’t sure she could keep her composure if she had to wait for the possibility of Vince breaking through the door and holding something akin to a conversation with someone at the same time.
Not knowing how long it would take for the cops to arrive, she had to make sure Vince didn’t get to her before that. Backing away from the door, she could practically sense Vince fuming on the other side, unhappy that he wasn’t getting what he wanted.
That was something the man wasn’t used to, and definitely didn’t like. Hanna still had a cast around her wrist, from the previous time she managed to upset Vince. But the ache in her hand only strengthened her resolve to stand up to that asshole.
No way am I letting him walk all over me. Again.
“You bitch,” Vince snarled, giving the door a vicious kick. “You always did think you were too good for me, didn’t you?”
“I never said that. You’re projecting your insecurities onto me,” Hanna said, coming out almost conversational as she was looking around her apartment for something she could use to protect herself with.
Her panic was slowly being replaced by determination. Whatever Vince had planned for her, she wasn’t going to let it happen. He had already taken enough from her – she no longer felt safe in her own home, she couldn’t sleep thanks to the nightmares and anxiety, and she couldn’t even go anywhere without constantly looking over her shoulder.
This is my home. I’m not letting him drag me out of here without a fight.
“Spare me the shrink talk, sweetie. Doesn’t work on me,” Vince replied.
“The cops will be here any minute. Just leave,” she tried to reason with h
im, even though she knew it probably wouldn’t do her any good.
He still has to have some self-preservation instincts left in that psycho brain of his, right?
“Do you know what the response time for a call like that is these days, hmm?” Vince taunted. “With all the cutbacks and everything.”
“You should know,” Hanna spat back bitterly.
“Yes, I do. And I know I’ll be through that door before those pigs ever get here,” he growled, making her blood turn cold.
Knowing that pleading wasn’t going to work with Vince, and not wanting to degrade herself by doing that either way, Hanna gritted her teeth, hoping her door would hold until the police arrived.
“Fuck you, Vince,” she yelled, her anger taking over. “We’re done, don’t you get that? Nothing you say or do will ever change that.”
“You belong to me!” Vince insisted, going back to banging on the door. “Who else would want a bitch like you, anyway?”
Bile rose up in Hanna’s throat as she cursed herself for not seeing Vince for who he was earlier. If only she could go back in time, never step into that bar, never meet him in the first place…
She was shaken out of those thoughts by what sounded like Vince throwing his whole body at the door. The wood groaned and creaked, starting to give way near the center of the door. It seemed like he used his foot next to kick open the weak spot.
Trying her hardest not to panic, Hanna ran into the kitchen and grabbed the first thing she laid her eyes on, which happened to be a kettle. When Vince started pushing his hand through what was now a hole in her door, his fingers wiggling as he tried to reach the lock, she swung.
The kettle came crashing down on Vince’s hand as Hanna let out a desperate cry. Determined to protect herself by any means necessary, she hit his hand again, before he was able to pull his arm back to the other side.
“Fucking crazy slut,” she heard Vince curse, which crazy as it was, brought a small smile to her face.
Take that, you piece of shit.
But the small sense of victory started to disappear when Vince started kicking at the door again, letting out a savage roar in the process. Looking down at the kettle in her hand, Hanna knew that unless it magically transformed into a gun all of a sudden. She was no match for Vince. As soon as he got through that door, she would be helpless.
Pure, paralyzing fear made her limbs go numb as she stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the counter, well aware Vince could wrestle it away from her in a second. But what else could she do?
Walking back into the living room, she flattened her back against the wall, staring at her door.
Vince’s roars had turned to laughter in the hallway, as the door finally flew off its hinges with a huge hole in the middle of it.
This is it, Hanna thought, her fingers curled around the blade in her hand.
Yet as soon as defeat set in, the sound of sirens in the distance reinvigorated her. The sound was close, drawing nearer by the second. Vince stopped in his tracks, wearing a thunderous expression. Pointing a finger at her, his voice was pure malice when he spoke.
“I’ll be back for you,” he said, before turning and running away.
Hanna slumped to the floor, the knife still in her hand, trying not to hyperventilate. She got lucky that night.
But what about the next one?
One
Finn
Charging down the ice with the puck in front of him, Finn glanced at his brother, Foster, as he approached the net. The Sioux Falls Savages were on a winning streak with the last couple of games, and he wasn’t going to let it end here. The Panthers were putting up a good fight, but that didn’t mean his team wasn’t going to crush them in the end.
Nash Cavanaugh, the Panthers’ top bruiser, was coming right at him, but Finn didn’t let it distract him. He knew Foster was already waiting for a pass. Finn would take the hit, and Foster would carry the puck to the net.
Let’s do this.
Finn didn’t even slow down or hesitate as he passed the puck just a fraction of a second before crashing into Nash, the collision reverberating through his bones. They both went slamming into the boards, with the wild cheers of the fans in the stands telling Finn his plan had worked.
His bear growled deep in his chest, the adrenaline pumping through his veins bringing his animal side closer to the surface. Nash’s wide, heavy body was still crowding into his space, which Finn didn’t take too kindly to.
His patience had been wearing pretty thin recently, and he had found himself reacting out of pure instinct more often than not. Shoving the man off of him, he couldn’t help the roar that slipped out, or the way his lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl.
The helmet he was wearing felt constricting all of the sudden, and his skin too tight. There was a cauldron of senseless anger broiling in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t know what to do with. So when Nash pushed back, annoyed by Finn’s over-the-top reaction, Finn snapped.
Grabbing onto Nash’s jersey, Finn yanked him back as the man was trying to skate off.
“Get off me,” Nash exclaimed, barely audible over the noise all around them.
“You have a problem?” Finn demanded, hands balling into fists as he still held on to Nash’s jersey.
“You’re the one with the problem,” Nash shot back, eyes flashing yellow for a split second.
One of Nash’s teammates appeared next to them, trying to break up the tense situation.
“Come on, guys,” the man said, breathing heavily underneath his face gear.
“Stay out of it,” Finn growled back.
He was quickly reaching that point of no return, where that hollowness in his gut grew and grew until he would do anything to fill it. And right now, he was filling it with a pointless altercation with Nash Cavanaugh. Whatever sense or logic he still had in his head was quickly evaporating, replaced by rage.
The match had halted, with men from both teams gathering around to see what the hell was going on. Finn and Nash were now staring at each other with deadly intent, neither one of them ready to back down.
“Finn!” he could hear his brother call out.
“Tell your bro to get a grip,” Caleb, the goalie from the Panthers team commented to Foster, only adding fuel to the fire.
“Shut your mouth,” Finn heard Foster snarl.
In a matter of seconds, all hell broke loose. Tempers tended to run high in the National Shifter Hockey League, but it never usually got this out of hand. From the corner of his eye, Finn could see Foster lunge at Caleb, with men from both teams trying to step in and stop the fight.
“So you’re both unhinged,” Nash remarked dryly.
Finn wasn’t about to take that lying down. With a yell, he grabbed the front of Nash’s jersey and swung him around, so the man was backed up against the Plexiglass separating the rink from the spectators. Blood pumping so loud he could hear it in his ears, Finn pressed a forearm against Nash’s throat, nearly cutting off the man’s air supply.
“You wanna say that again? Huh?” he yelled, feeling himself lose control as he squeezed tighter.
Nash struggled against his hold, trying to pull Finn’s arm away, but it wasn’t doing the man much good. Finn couldn’t even think about what he was doing anymore. All he knew was that Nash had run his mouth about him and his brother, and he wasn’t having it. He and Foster were family, and with what happened three months ago…
Has it really been that long? some part of him briefly wondered.
Family had always been important to both Finn and his brother. They had always stuck up for one another, and this was no exception. Finn was barely aware of what was going on around him, only that the ice was now empty save for the tangle of multicolored jerseys next to him, a swarming mass of men pulling and pushing at each other, the first punches being thrown when the opportunity presented itself.
The crowd had stopped cheering, at least in that happy, joyous way they had before. From so
mewhere, a whistle sounded, but no one was paying that much mind.
“Stop,” Nash gasped, eyes widening as he clawed at Finn’s arm.
It was the panic in the man’s eyes that finally brought Finn back to earth. He pulled back, shocked at how far he had let himself go. He and Finn, or the Caldwell brothers as they were jointly called, had a bit of a reputation for taking no prisoners on the ice, but this was taking it too far.
Just as he was about to apologize to Nash, however, he saw Caleb come sailing past him, his feet barely touching the ground. It was as if Finn was watching it unfold in slow motion. Caleb, all 200 pounds of him, flew right into the glass. His helmet made contact first, almost bouncing off the clear barrier.
Yet it wasn’t the mountain of a man landing in a heap at Finn’s feet that got his attention. It was the cascade of glass, shattering and showering anyone within at least a five-foot radius with shards.
That’s when the screaming started.
Oh, shit, Finn thought, looking over at Foster. We’ve really done it now.
Two
Hanna
“Well, shit,” Hanna muttered under her breath, looking from the small, stuffed-to-the-brim closet of her new apartment to the still unpacked suitcases behind her back.
What she was lacking in furniture, she sure made up for in clothes. That she, of course, had no space for. The place was nice enough, especially considering how last minute getting it had been. She definitely couldn’t afford any more nights at hotels.
But it didn’t feel like home quite yet. Especially after she’d spent the better part of a year decorating her old apartment so it would be just the right mix of modern and cozy. She couldn’t help but let out a long sigh at that thought, but the reality was, she could never go back. So it would be better if she could focus on the future, rather than the past.
Easier said than done, that.