The Bear and his Honey: BBW Bear Shifter Paranormal Romance (Honey for the Billionbear Book 3)

by Zoe Chant

  They had to be very sure they'd never get caught. A company with that much money, that much power, they'd have the resources to hire a couple of mercenaries without ever implicating themselves.

  They'd kill her, and then they'd dump her body somewhere it would never be found—Alan's breath caught. The caves up on Kingshead Mountain. Every year a few careless hikers disappeared up there, never to be found again. Octane must have done surveys up there. They'd know the hidden dangers, all the deep dark holes where a body might disappear forever…

  He tried to think clearly enough to run the numbers in his head. If she'd been taken about an hour ago, and they'd driven straight back here, they could probably be at the foot of the mountain by now. They'd have to take the old logging road, which curved all the way around the other side of the mountain and back, and then they'd have to walk the rest of the way from the point where the road stopped.

  But there was another way to the top, the old hiking trail that went almost straight up the side of the mountain, right to the entrance of the caves. With a good horse you could get up there more quickly than with a car, he'd told Jessica once. It had just been an idle thought at the time. Now Jessica's life depended on it. He had to get there before her kidnappers did, or Jessica was going to die.

  If she wasn't dead already, if they hadn't killed her straight away…

  But no. He could feel it in his chest: His mate was alive. He knew that just as surely as he knew that she was still in deadly danger.

  She was alive, and he was coming to rescue her.

  Officer Smith was saying something, but he'd stopped listening. "I have to go," he said.

  Arrow snorted and tossed his head when Alan swung himself on his back. He was tense as a bow, picking up on Alan's desperation, every muscle fired up and ready to go. It took only the slightest nudge to send him bolting forward. Alan guided him straight towards the fence, not bothering with the heavy, awkward gate. The stallion sailed over the fence in a high, effortless jump and started picking up speed as soon as his hooves hit the ground. His long neck stretched forward, body coiling up like a spring.

  Arrow had been bred to run, the latest in a line of racers that reached back a full century and more. The ground rushed by beneath them. Arrow's hooves kicked up a cloud of dust that hung in the air between them. Alan leaned forward in the saddle like a jockey, straining forward with everything he had. There wasn't any room left for thought in his mind. Nothing but the knowledge that his mate needed him, and he was coming to save her.

  ***

  Jessica blinked her eyes open in dull confusion, and then squeezed them shut again as a stab of pain went through her. Her entire body hurt. There was a dull, pounding pain in her head, beating in time with her pulse. Every muscle in her body was cramped up and sore, from the top of her neck right down to her toes.

  She slid one eye open carefully. There wasn't much to see. She was lying in featureless gray darkness. She tried to uncurl her body from its fetal position and came up short with a whimper when both her feet and her back hit a wall. She stretched a hand out in front of her, only to hit yet another wall, almost directly in front of her face. Her breath quickened. All around her, her frantically groping hands found solid resistance. They'd locked her in a box, or a crate, or some sort of… coffin? Had they buried her alive?

  She dismissed that morbid thought almost immediately. There was a thin thread of light coming in through some cracks at the edges of her prison, and now that she was a little more awake, she realized that she was being rocked back and forth by constant motion. She was lying on thin, scratchy carpet.

  A hard thump rattled her entire body. She just barely managed to brace herself before she smashed her nose into the wall in front of her. The steady vibrating noise that had been droning in the background all along finally got through her aching, muddled head. She was in a car. They must have stashed her in the trunk.

  Jessica swallowed hard against the claustrophobic panic rising in her chest. She beat her feet against the lid of the trunk as hard as she could. "Help me!" she screamed. "Help!"

  Belatedly it occurred to her that maybe she should have stayed quiet. If her captors heard her screaming and got angry…

  But no. They'd taken her in broad daylight, and there was only one reason why someone might want to kidnap her. The man who'd taken her must have been hired by Octane, and that meant they'd want her dead anyway, a warning example to anyone else who might think of crossing them.

  Jessica swallowed a sob and hammered her aching feet harder against the top of the trunk. "Help!"

  Nothing. No reaction. The car didn't even slow.

  Jessica began to realize that the sound of the engine and the rushing of the wheels was the only thing she could hear. No honking, no other traffic, no city noises. They must have taken her somewhere out into the country. Somewhere where no one would hear her scream.

  Jessica swallowed another sob, pressing the heel of her hand hard against her mouth. Terror was rising up like a wave, choking her. It felt good to open her mouth and give it voice.

  She screamed again, as loudly as she could; screamed until her voice cracked and broke. Hammered against the trunk until her feet were numb.

  Nothing. No one heard her.

  Jessica thought of Alan. He'd think she was safely on her plane by now. He wouldn't have any idea she'd gone missing for hours yet. He probably wouldn't even begin to get suspicious until the next day; if she didn't call after the flight, he'd probably assume she was tired and had gone to bed early.

  She imagined him sitting at his desk, maybe teleconferencing with someone, or working through reports. She tried to imagine the steady, soothing rumble of his voice. She felt as if she could almost reach out and touch him, as if there was some sort of thread linking them. But when she reached out to it, there was only her own panic echoing back at her.

  "Help me!" she thought at the steady glowing thread of his presence in her mind. "Help me, Alan!"

  But of course he wasn't really there, and he couldn't really hear her. It was probably the lingering effects of the chloroform that made his presence feel so real.

  The road was growing more uneven by the minute, the car bouncing through potholes and over bumps, tossing Jessica's body painfully around the trunk. She braced herself against the top and sides as best as she could, groaning with every jarring impact. And then the sound of pitted asphalt gave way to the spray of gravel, and a few second after that, the car jerked to a halt, abruptly enough that she was thrown against the side of the trunk.

  She was still half dazed with the impact when the trunk popped open. Bright sunlight hit her eyes as sharply as an ice pick to the head. She groaned, swallowing down a wash of nausea. Harsh hands grabbed her by the arms and dragged her out of the trunk.

  For a long moment she stood staggering, half-blinded by the brightness of the day. The world spun around her in time to the sickening beat of her headache.

  Finally her eyes adjusted to the light and she slowly found her balance. She was surrounded by three men. They were dressed all in black, cargo pants and t-shirts; utilitarian clothes, nothing that would have stood out at the mall. But the way they moved made it clear that this was a uniform as much as anything a special ops team had ever worn. This was a group of people who knew what they were doing. And none of them were wearing masks.

  Jessica swallowed hard. That wasn't a good sign. If they didn't care that she could see their faces, that had to mean they didn't think she'd have any chance to report them—which meant they didn't plan to leave her alive.

  They all had some sort of automatic weapon slung across their shoulders. One of them was still holding on to her by the arm, as much to keep her from falling over as anything else, she was pretty sure. She could feel the implacable strength of his grip, but he didn't seem to be trying to hurt her.

  "What do you want?" she asked. Her voice trembled, for all that she was trying to stay calm. Don't panic, she told herself. You can't
afford to panic now.

  The men didn't even reply. Jessica thought, unwillingly, of butcher leading a bleating sheep to the slaughter; that was about how much mind they'd paid her question.

  "Don't do this," she said, trying desperately to think through the fog in her head. No executive at Octane was going to personally dirty his hands. These men had to be mercenaries, and mercenaries could be bought. "Whatever they're paying you, I've got money, I can—"

  "Shut up," the man holding her said. His hand tightened on her arm in silent warning. Jessica could feel bruises forming beneath his iron grip. She clenched her teeth and swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She was pretty sure that if she let herself start crying now, she was going to end up a hysterical mess, and God knew what they'd do to her then.

  "Jones, you're guarding the car," the man said. He had to be the other two's commander. Jones nodded silently and took up position by the car, his gun held easily in both hands; he looked alert and ready. Jessica swallowed again. She felt a few silent tears escape, tracing damp trails down her cheeks.

  The road ended in a gravel parking lot. From here, a winding footpath led up the mountain. It was narrow, steep, and choked with weeds. Didn't look like many people came through here. Which meant the chances they'd stumble across someone who'd be willing to help weren't particularly good.

  "Come on," the commander said. He pulled her along by the arm as he started walking, half holding her up for the first staggering steps until she found her balance. Jessica tried to fight through the nauseating roil of fear and her still-pounding headache. Once she was walking upright on her own two legs the commander gave her a little shove to set her walking in front of him.

  "Keep going," he said. "Don't turn around, don't do anything stupid. I got no interest in hurting you, but I will if you make me."

  Hurting her, as opposed to killing her, which was presumably what they were planning to do to her anyway once they got to wherever they were going. Jessica pressed one trembling hand in front of her mouth, trying to hold in the sob that wanted to escape. She remembered Alan telling her about the caves at the top of the mountain, about the tourists who'd gotten lost up there. Half the time, they never even find the body.

  ***

  Arrow had to slow down once they reached the mountain. Alan forced himself to take deep breaths. The horse was already wound as tight as a spring. Freaking out would do nothing but panic him. And Arrow was climbing up the narrow, stony path as fast as it was safely possible—even a mountain goat couldn't have gone any faster here. They were taking the direct route where a car would have to take an enormous detour. They had a little bit of time.

  Still, everything inside him strained to go faster. His heart pounded inside his chest, keeping time with the beat of terror and doubt in his brain. What if he couldn't get there quickly enough? What if he was too late? What if he was wrong, and they were taking Jessica somewhere else entirely?

  But no. Even with the fear gnawing at him, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that last one. It was almost as if he could feel Jessica out there, a steady shining beacon of a presence, like a string of light connecting them—and wound all around it, the steady pulsing thread of danger.

  They were taking Jessica up the mountain. He could feel her so clearly he could have pointed straight at her.

  It seemed to take forever until they finally reached the plateau halfway up the mountain. The path evened out into a long, sandy stretch, sloping gently around a curve. Alan hesitated for just a second. Beyond that curve lay the end of the road. If they really had taken Jessica up here by car, this was the place where they'd have to get out and start walking. He had no idea what he'd find behind that curve. He didn't even know how many men there were, or if they were armed. It would be safer to get off the horse and sneak up.

  But if he was too late, if they'd already abandoned the car and started taking Jessica up the path towards the caves, then he couldn't afford to waste that much time.

  Arrow pranced nervously beneath him, picking up on his tension. Like any nervous horse, what he wanted to do was run. Inside Alan the bear strained with the same impulse, unable to understand why he was dithering when the men who'd taken his mate might be just around that corner.

  He'd simply have to risk it. If he rode into an ambush, he'd handle it.

  Inside him, the bear roared in feral satisfaction. This was for Jessica. They'd do whatever it took.

  He loosened the reins. Arrow exploded into motion.

  They tore around the corner at breakneck pace. The soft sand of the path muffled the sound of Arrow's hooves; when they rounded the bend, the man leaning next to the car was only just raising his head, his face twisting with surprise.

  Alan registered a few things all at once.

  There was a silver Toyota parked beside the end of the road. It was empty. There wasn't any sign of Jessica.

  He'd been too late.

  The man beside the car let out a startled swear and started raising an automatic rifle. Alan let out a roar. Arrow gave one last, desperate burst of speed.

  The man's eyes widened at the sight of the enormous horse thundering towards him. But he was too well trained to panic. He pointed the rifle straight at Arrow's chest.

  Alan yanked hard on the reins, bringing Arrow to a sharp, barely-controlled halt, sliding on the loose sand of the path. Arrow reared up with a snort. The man ducked away from the whirling hooves, flinching backwards. The first shot went wide. Alan didn't give him the chance to fire a second time. He lunged out of the saddle, throwing himself at the man with all of Arrow's speed behind him. The transformation rolled over him in mid-air, as unstoppable as an ocean wave.

  The man went down beneath the bear's enormous paws.

  Alan fought to keep a hold of himself, stopping the transformation halfway through with an enormous jarring effort, leaving himself somewhere half between a bear and a man. It hurt, but that didn't matter right now. "Where is she?" he roared.

  The man might be a hardened mercenary, but this wasn't the kind of situation he would have been trained for. Alan could feel him trying to curl up into a ball of sheer terror beneath his paws. "Up the mountain. To the caves," the man choked out.

  Alan forced himself back into human form by sheer force of will. It felt like trying to swim against the tide. His mate was in danger. His body wanted claws and fangs and half a ton of muscle to back them up. His claws kept trying to pop out of the tips of his fingers despite his best efforts.

  If the mercenary had wanted to try something, this would have been his chance. Alan had a weight advantage on him, but unlike him, the man presumably had combat training. Alan didn't think he'd stand too much of a chance against a well-trained fighter in his human form.

  But the man stayed limp in his grip when he heaved him bodily to his feet and marched him to the car. Possibly he could feel how bad of an idea it would have been to try and mess with Alan right now. The bear was still there, just inches beneath the surface, struggling to break through. Alan was clinging to control by his fingernails.

  He cuffed the mercenary to the car with his own handcuffs and tossed the key down the side of the mountain.

  He'd dropped the reins when he'd launched himself off Arrow's back. The horse was still standing obediently beside him, waiting the way he'd been trained. His dark coat was wet with sweat flecked with foam, his sides heaving as he panted for breath. It was clear he was nearing the end of his strength. He would run until he dropped if Alan asked him to, but even for Jessica, he couldn't do that to his horse. Alan slashed through the bridle and saddle girth with his claws and dropped them carelessly on the floor. Without the tack to get him tangled up, Arrow would find his own way home. He gave the horse one quick, grateful pat. "Thank you," he said.

  And then Alan turned back towards the mountain path and finally let go of the brutal hold he'd had on himself. The change came quickly, effortlessly, almost without conscious decision, like taking that first swee
t breath after staying underwater for too long.

  Alan was running before his front paws even hit the ground. It wasn't that much farther to the top off the mountain. Over short distances, a bear could run as fast as a horse.

  ***

  The men drove Jessica up the mountain at a punishing pace. She stumbled and teetered on her heels, longing desperately for the sensible pair of sneakers she'd been wearing for the past two weeks. Her head still ached, and sometimes the world would blur in front of her eyes. But the guns pointing at her back kept her going regardless.

  The sun burned the back of her neck. Sweat prickled on her skin. She'd abandoned her jacket by the side of the path a while ago, not thinking of anything but getting the sweaty weight of it off her back. One of her captors had quietly picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. The sight sent a shiver through her. Of course they didn't want any traces of her presence left behind on their way to dumping her body in some deep dark hole.

  She realized belatedly that she should've been doing something to leave a trail all along. The pounding of her head, the terror and exhaustion made it hard to think straight, but she couldn't afford to be stupid right now. Except she didn't really know how to go about creating a trail. The men walked behind her, watching her like hawks. She wasn't wearing any jewelry, or anything else that she could drop unobtrusively; it wasn't like they wouldn't notice if she ripped a strip off her shirt.

  The path was hard-packed dirt. It didn't really hold footprints very well. Jessica tried to dig her heels a little more firmly into the ground as she walked. There couldn't be too many other people hiking up a trail like this in heels, right?

  Of course if she was honest with herself, the chance that anyone would notice a detail like that in time was pretty damn unlikely. But at least she felt like she was doing something. And if the police were looking for her, they'd probably have dogs that could pick up her scent trail, right?