Bear to the End (Bear Claw Security Book 5)

by Terry Bolryder

  She looked forward to work, exchanging flirty glances over the cubicles and between meetings with women at the shelter. She’d need to corner him and make him talk about financials with her today because she knew he’d been avoiding it. Probably they weren’t in a good state and he felt nervous about telling her. Truth was she’d been aware for a long time that they were only squeaking by. Luckily, it seemed no one else had their eyes on their location or they would have been ousted before, due to paying very little rent.

  Her phone buzzed in the other room, and she saw Mark sit up, rubbing his eyes as she crawled over him to grab it.

  She gave him a grin and took the phone out in the hall so it didn’t disturb him further, though she could hear him getting up for the day.

  She guessed she must have tired him out last night after all. That thought made her grin as she tuned in to what the person on the phone was saying.

  “You have to get down here now. We’re about to lose our lease. Some rich dude went behind our backs and outbid us, and he’s demanding to meet with you or else he’ll go through with it.”

  Her hand went cold around the phone. She’d known that could happen, but no rich person could want anything to do with their location. It wasn’t marketable or a money-making area.

  She swallowed, feeling her throat go dry and tight. “Gotcha. I’m coming.”

  She didn’t want to go. Not in a million years. But she only knew one person who could have an interest like that in their building or in meeting with her to stop it.

  She didn’t want to see him, but she didn’t have a choice. And besides, she wasn’t alone anymore. She had Mark by her side. But she shivered slightly at Mark’s reaction to finding out who her ex really was. She hadn’t meant to lie to him; she just hadn’t wanted to tell the whole truth, depending on how he looked at her.

  He opened the door behind her, looking casually sexy in a loose tee and pajama pants that hung low on his hips. He gave her a sexy smile, which then faded when he caught sight of her face. He held her arms and turned her toward him.

  “What’s wrong?” He put a hand to her head to check her temperature. “You don’t look right. You feeling okay?” He dropped his hand and pressed her into his chest. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He let her go and jogged into the living room. “You didn’t see anyone at the window, did you?”

  She bit her lip. She loved how protective he could be. How he already treated her like she meant everything to him. “No, nothing like that. I just got a call from work. They’re having trouble there.”

  He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. “You stay here. If it’s another guy like the other day, I can deal with it and keep the other ladies safe.”

  She walked up and caught him around the waist, stopping him. “It’s not like that. It’s just… someone giving us trouble about the lease.”

  He tucked hair behind her ear, tracing the skin there. “I was meaning to talk to you about that.”

  She shook her head, making her curls bounce around her face ticklishly. “No time. It’s not what you think. It’ll be fine as long as we get there.” She put a hand in his. “It’s just… Don’t leave me. Stay by my side.”

  “I thought I made that clear last night,” he said. “That’s exactly what I want to do anyway.”

  “Even after this job is over?” she asked, wanting to assuage a deep-down fear that he was just taking advantage of the situation. She thought he wasn’t a man like that, but she’d been blindsided by men before.

  He squeezed her hand back. “Always.”

  Her heart thumped, and she nodded, removing her hand reluctantly from his and missing the warmth there. “All right. Can you get ready fast?”

  “Yup,” he said. “You get breakfast, and I’ll be ready by the time you want to head out.”

  She rubbed her stomach. “I’m not sure if I can eat.”

  He sent her a stern glare. “You’ll need your strength,” he said. “I gave you a good workout last night.”

  She grinned. “All right. But hurry.”

  “I can go fast when I want,” he said, striding back to the bedroom. He poked his head out. “I just don’t like rushing things when it comes to you.”

  She felt herself blush but turned back to the fridge. He was right. She would need her strength in order to face what was coming.

  Mark watched Char the entire drive, not liking how she seemed to get more nervous with every block and every turn that brought them closer to work.

  She looked gorgeous today. He loved seeing her show a little more, feel a little more free and confident. His mate deserved to feel stunning all the time, because she was.

  But something was bothering her badly. If he didn’t know better, he’d say it had to do with the ex. She had that same stressed, tight expression she’d had when she came to Bear Claw Security. It put all his protective instincts on painfully high alert. He didn’t like when anyone stressed his mate. She should always feel relaxed and happy and like every need of hers in the world was being met.

  “Are you sure you want to come in with me?” he asked. “You’re looking more terrified by the minute.”

  She nodded. Her hair was in a pretty, twisted bun with a few curls escaping to wisp around her face. Her dark eyes were focused on the road in front of them, and her full lips were drawn into a tight line.

  He hated seeing her like this, but all he could do was get them to work and solve the problem so he could wipe that look off her face.

  He was somewhat relieved they had something to do this early in the morning, because as he’d been lying in bed, the guilt had been killing him.

  He’d been with her twice now. It was time to tell her who he was. Hopefully, she could accept him even if he didn’t have the background she wanted him to have.

  But a part of him worried that since she never would have worked with him in the first place if she’d known who he was, she’d then reject him if she knew he wasn’t who she thought.

  She’d been tricked in the past, and the last thing he wanted was to be another guy tricking her.

  But what they had was wonderful, and he’d just have to hope he could find a way to help her see past that.

  He’d been thinking of telling her at work, but now that they had other things to deal with, he decided it could wait.

  The thought made knots tighten in his chest, so he brushed it away. It was selfish to think of how uncomfortable it made him to mislead his mate when he needed to be fully focused on protecting her and eliminating whatever was scaring the crap out of her.

  When they pulled up in front of the shelter, the first thing he noticed was a black limo out front.

  She’d been adjusting her black suit and buttoning up the top button of her blouse, and when she looked up and saw the limo, she gasped and went rigid.

  He let out a careful breath and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here with you, okay? Calm down. It’s going to be fine.”

  She let out her breath and put a hand over his, holding tight. “You’re right. I’m not alone this time.”

  This time? Had the dirt bag showed up before? Something seemed off. Char had said her ex was poor. A biker or something, right? So who was the rich dude, and why did he have beef with her? Was this guy the reason she hated rich guys and didn’t want to work with them?

  He stepped out of the car and walked over to look in the door of the shelter. A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair was sitting in a chair facing several of the shelter workers, all of whom looked troubled.

  Something about the man looked familiar, even from the back. He scratched his head and then heard Char tapping from inside the truck and went to let her out. He kept his body protectively between her and the car.

  He was glad he was dressed in a simple tee and his usual combat pants. They’d be easy to move in, and despite the civilized look of the man inside, the bear in Mark was preparing for a fight.

  Hairs rose on his neck as he w
alked forward and opened the door, but Char put a hand on his chest to steady him and walked in front of him.

  He didn’t like that at all, but she was right. They were in public, he was right with her, watching everything, and there were other people around.

  This was her work, and if possible, he should let her handle things.

  The man in the chair turned to face them as the doorbell rang, and he saw Char visibly tense and then fight to relax herself.

  “Charlotte,” the man said in a silky voice, and Mark froze. He knew that voice.

  He took a step back as Charlotte walked forward toward the man, still keeping a few steps between them. She folded her arms and stood tall, making him proud. She was a strong woman. She had to be to escape her past relationship and to work in a place like this, helping others.

  “Clay,” she said.

  “Long time no see, wife,” he said.

  Shit. Clay, as in Clay Biltmore? The man was rich. Not as rich as Mark, but still rich. Mark’s eyes shot to Charlotte, wondering why she’d bothered to lie to him, but she didn’t even look back.

  She was rigid. This was the man who had hurt her, Mark realized, making the quick connection. Forgetting about any risk of the other man recognizing him, he stepped in front of Charlotte, blocking Clay’s view of her.

  “Get out,” he snapped. He was bigger than the man, taller, and now trained to kick his ass. He was ready to practically kill him, but the best thing for all of them would be if Clay could leave before the red clouding Mark’s vision made it impossible to handle this sensibly. “You have about three seconds to get out of my sight.”

  The man looked up at him lazily, and then his nearly black eyes widened as he recognized Mark’s face. Of course he would. They’d been in business meetings together. His family had been at dinners at Mark’s place when he’d been growing up.

  They were once in the same circles.

  But none of that mattered because Mark would surely kill him if he had to bear his presence another minute.

  The thought of this man putting a hand on his Char was making it hard to breathe. Not to mention hard to keep the bear inside him contained.

  “Interesting,” Clay said, standing lazily to circle Mark. “Is this your new protector, Char?” He ran his eyes over Mark. “You always did like the rich ones.”

  Mark growled and caught the man by the collar and swung him in one smooth movement up against the glass door, shattering it.

  The women in the shelter gasped, but Mark kept Clay pinned to the frame. Clay was trying to hide it, but he was shaking slightly in Mark’s grip, his hands fumbling to pull Mark’s hands away from his neck.

  “Hear this,” Mark snarled in the other man’s ear. “Stay away from my mate. Stay away from her work. Stay out of her life, or you’ll deal with me. And I think you know I can level you in multiple ways.”

  Mark saw men getting out of the limo and released Clay, who eyed him with the venomous hate of a man who knows he’s helpless at the moment but doesn’t intend to be helpless for long.

  He jerked away from Mark and brushed off his sleeves.

  Mark looked over his shoulder. Char was standing with the others, gaping at the door, and didn’t look like she’d heard what Mark had said.

  Good.

  That was just between him and the douche.

  He pulled open the broken door and shoved Clay out. He stumbled and then pointed at him and laughed.

  “This isn’t over,” he said. Then he whirled on his heel and got into his limo with his men.

  Mark stared after him, chest heaving in anger, still trying to keep the animal in him contained.

  He didn’t realize Char had come up to him until he felt her hand on his arm.

  “So that’s your ex?” he asked, looking down at her.

  She nodded quietly, dark eyes silent and ashamed.

  “You could have told me,” he said. “And that’s why you hate rich people?”

  “I don’t hate them,” she said, twisting her hands. “It’s just, after being tricked by one, being hurt by one, whenever I see something that reminds me of him, it makes me think I’m in over my head. That I’m going to get tricked again. Hurt again.”

  He pulled her in against his chest. As she held him, shaking slightly, he realized he had to tell her soon. She’d think he was one of those rich guys trying to trick her.

  And dammit, he had been.

  “I’ll get the door fixed,” he said. “And then we’ll talk.” He let her go. “You make sure the other women are okay.”

  She nodded and went to do that, and he walked outside to call Bronson and ask for him for a referral for a glass job. Bronson just said he’d send someone over, and Mark was grateful he didn’t ask a lot of other questions.

  Bronson was good at sensing when he didn’t want to talk and not pushing his buttons.

  And he was too overwhelmed right now to explain what was going on anyway.

  Hercules and the others would probably just say serves him right for going ahead with this plan, but he really hadn’t had a choice. Unless he wanted his mate unprotected or going to another agency, and who knew if they could have protected her…?

  He waited until the glass guy came and then made sure he could complete the job quickly and also add some security to the door, paying for all of it out of his pocket.

  While he was at it, he was going to do some other things for the shelter. Once Charlotte knew who he was, he could do things like that freely, without fear of discovery.

  Ugh, the thought of her knowing still sat like a cold rock in his stomach. But it was the right thing, so he was going to tell her.

  He just wanted to make sure the door was repaired with a good deadbolt so if she tossed him out on his ass, she’d be safe until he could get another Bear Claw Security guy over there.

  He looked up several times to see her staring at him with an indiscernible, thoughtful expression.

  Clay had called him rich. Had she heard that? Or was she just nervous that her own lie had been called out? Not that her lie was anywhere near as bad as his.

  When the door was repaired, he paid and tipped the guy, and then Char walked over to him.

  “The other ladies said we’re closing the office for today. We’ll post a number on the door for emergencies, but other than that, everyone needs to calm down a bit.”

  “Because I threw a guy into a door?” he asked, feeling ashamed he’d triggered any of them.

  “No,” she said. “Just his threats about shutting us down and the way he creeped lots of them out before I got here.”

  His fingers tightened into fists. “He didn’t hurt any of them, did he?”

  She shook her head. “No, but all the women here know the look of a man who isn’t afraid to hurt a woman. Who might even like doing it.”

  His jaw tightened. “I don’t understand it. I just don’t understand it at all.”

  She shrugged. “There are a lot of things I don’t understand. Like why Clay would say you were rich.”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but she put a resigned hand up to stop him, touching his mouth with one finger.

  “We can talk at home,” she said. “I’m tired right now.”

  He helped her into his truck and started it up so they could head home. His fingers gripped the steering wheel all the way, until they were numb and his heart was pounding.

  Time to tell his mate the truth and hope she could love him anyway.

  Twelve

  When they got up to the apartment, Charlotte took off her jacket and went into her room to change. She was already starting to feel numb inside, based on what she suspected, but she wanted to be as comfortable as possible if her fears were about to be confirmed.

  The guilty, resigned expression on Mark’s face wasn’t helping. He looked like a man being led to the hangman’s noose.

  She left him in the living room, where he was making sure the door was securely locked, as usual, and headed into the
bedroom where she changed into some comfy, thick sweats that hid her completely.

  Right now, she felt vulnerable, and the best way to counter that was to be warm and fuzzy and hidden from the world.

  When she walked back into the living room, she saw Mark pacing on her ratty carpet.

  If he really were a rich person, how had he been feeling about staying at her place this whole time? And why had he been doing it? Did he think it was funny?

  Was it just because she didn’t want to work with him, and he, like a lot of rich men, just wanted to prove he could do whatever he wanted?

  He faced her, his unbearably handsome face drawn tight as he opened his mouth to speak. “Sit down,” he offered.

  She did, taking up the small couch.

  He paced in front of her. “What do you want to know?”

  “Are you rich?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  She swallowed painfully, feeling a lump forming in her chest. “Are you the man I met in the office that I didn’t want to work with? Are you pretending to be your twin?”

  His jaw tightened. “Yes.”

  She slumped back with a sigh. She didn’t even know what to say just yet.

  He came in front of her and knelt, but she scooted back as far away from him as she could, pressing herself into the hard back of the threadbare couch. “I was going to tell you. Before he even showed up. After what we shared last night, I didn’t want to keep lying to you.”

  She folded her arms, more for self-protection than trying to look indignant. Like she could shield her heart from the oncoming pain if she just held herself tight enough with her puny hands.

  “So you at least admit that’s what you’ve been doing,” she said. “Lying to me.” She hated how dead and dull her voice sounded. It was like when she’d first discovered Clay had been lying to her, meeting up with other women behind her back. And then when she’d confronted him, he’d hit her. And hit her. And not stopped hitting her until she’d walked out his door.

  And then he’d began hunting her. Like it was a game. Disappearing for months at a time only to turn up and scare her and ruin everything, like he had today.