The Bear Who Loved Me (4 page)

She looked around. “To Camp Max?”

“To Gladwin State Park. Not all bear shifters, of course. Just my clan.” He leaned forward. “But don't worry. We've got spotters out looking for him.”

“Theo's in Kalamazoo. That's where we live. Two hundred miles south of here.”

More like 180, but he knew she wouldn't appreciate the correction. “I know it sounds like a lot.”

“Because it is a lot.”

“But bears in their First Change do that kind of thing. They just do.”

She dug her fists into her eyes. “Do you hear yourself? God, do you understand how insane you sound?”

He took a deep breath. “Yes, I do. Which is why I want to show you a video—”

She bolted. One second she was rubbing her eyes with her fists, the next she was inches short of the door. He caught her. Even startled, he was fast and she had no weight to drag him out of his seat. And this time he was prepared as she began to fight him.

Jesus, she was wiry.

He stood up out of his chair, carrying her as she kicked. Bright flashes of pain on his arms told him he'd have more bruises there. And then she reared back to head butt him.

That was the last straw. He could handle bruises, but her head was hard enough to give them both concussions. So he tossed her on the bed. She landed on her backside with an “oomph,” and he hoped she'd stay down.

She didn't. Even before she'd finished bouncing, she was scrambling up. So he did the only thing he could think of that would keep her from getting hurt. He spread eagled and dropped right on top of her. It took about two minutes of heavy scrabbling to pin her. She reached up and to the right to grab the lamp, so he nailed that arm first. The second fist came at his head, but he was prepared, and he slammed that down until both of her arms were trapped above and to either side of her head. As for her legs, nothing would do but for him to drop his knees between hers and spread them. She fought every second, but she had no leverage. And all through it, Little Carl got happier and hornier. By the time she stilled, they were both breathing heavily, their faces were inches apart, and his erection was a hot, stone pillar between them. No way to hide it.

“Get off me,” she hissed.

“I'm going to hand you your phone,” he said calmly, though it was damned hard given how her every breath pushed those soft, rounded breasts against his chest. “You can call 911. Tell them who you are and where you are. Will you listen to their answer, please? Will you trust me that much at least?”

She swallowed. It took her two tries to answer, but eventually she got the word out. “Okay.”

“If you run, I'll have to stop you again. It's almost dark and it'd be dangerous for you to be out there by yourself. Not to mention how it'll scare the kids.”

“I can't believe I brought Theo here every summer.”

“It probably saved his life, Becca. Otherwise he'd be completely lost out there. We teach them survival skills and make sure they learn the safe places in the park. It's for exactly this reason. In case one of them shifts. Even in bear form they'll head for safety. They'll head where we taught them to go.”

She didn't believe him. God, how stubbornly ordinary people clung to their beliefs. But in her defense, she hadn't seen anything to suggest he was telling the truth. She hadn't been quiet enough that he could give her any proof. So first he would have to show her that she was completely safe.

He had to get off her. Little Carl was beyond pissed at that, but he was not a man to be ruled by his dick. Or his bear, for that matter, which took long moments for him to slam back into its mental cage. It wanted to flip her onto her stomach, lift her ass up to him, and plunge in for the next week until she was pregnant. He rolled off her instead, pulled her cell phone out of his desk drawer, and tossed it to her.

She grabbed it eagerly and he watched as disappointment flashed through her expression. No call from Theo. Even now she was more worried about the boy than she was for herself. She then thumbed on the phone and hit 911.

“Hello?” she said when the dispatcher answered. It was a female voice—probably Dot—and thanks to his shifter hearing, he could make out both sides of the conversation. “Hello? I'm Becca Weitz, and I've been kidnapped.”

“Hello, Miss Weitz. Thank you for calling. Are you there at Camp Max?”

“I'm…I don't know. I'm in Mr. Max's bedroom.”

“Really?” Dot was obviously intrigued by that. Fortunately, she returned to a professional tone a moment later. “Officer Kappes is on her way there now to give you an update. We've notified Kalamazoo police as well with a full description of Theo, but we had to keep it low-key for obvious reasons. Don't worry, though. We'll find him right and tight. And welcome to the Gladwin clan. I always thought you'd be joining us one day. Glad to see it finally happened.”

“Um. Yeah. Okay. Is, um, is there someone else I could speak to?”

“Sure there is. Here's Sargent Mummert. Say something reassuring to the scared mom, will you, Hal?”

A moment later, Hal's deep voice came on the line. He said all the right things, an echo of everything Dot had said. None of it helped. He could see the despair grow on Becca's face the longer they went on. In the end, she thanked them politely and thumbed off her phone. Then she looked him hard in the eyes.

“You've convinced them all.”

“Didn't have to convince them. Dot's got three shifter kids and has been right where you are now waiting for them to come through the First Change. Hal's not a shifter, but he was born and raised here. He's seen it enough to know.” He leaned forward. “You're not alone, Becca. We're not here to hurt you. In fact, it's the opposite. We're trying to help.”

“By knocking me out and dragging me—”

“To where Theo is going to come. I promise, Becca, it's a natural part of being a shifter.”

She swallowed and looked away. He knew she was fighting tears but was too terrified to let them fall. He sat there looking at her, desperately searching for a way to make this better. He came up empty, so he decided that retreat was the better part of valor.

“Tonya's going to be here in a moment. That's Officer Kappes. You'll probably want to get a little more together before then. I'll be right out here.”

“Am I a prisoner?”

He sighed. “The bathroom's through there.” She looked toward the bathroom and he took the opportunity to lift the phone out of her hand. “And, yes, I suppose you're trapped here for the night. We're too short-handed waiting for Theo and Justin. No one can drive you back to Kalamazoo.”

“I'll take a cab.”

His grizzly growled at her stubbornness. According to it, she was here in his den and that made her his. He even felt his shoulder blades tingle as the shift started to gather. Damn it, she had no idea what defying him did to his sanity. In the end, he managed to force out a curt sentence. “You can't leave yet.”

Her chin rose an inch at that, and he could tell she was about to challenge him. Normally, he could control his reaction to defiance, but after their wrestling match, he was on the edge. One more challenge from her, and his grizzly was going to dominate her completely and damn the consequences.

“Listen carefully, Becca. This is real. We're grizzly bear shifters. We'll show you, but you have to calm down.”

She frowned. “You're going to change into a bear? Right in front of me?” Thankfully her tone was less of a challenge and more like confused questions.

“Yes.”

“And you think that's going to reassure me?”

Well, okay, she had a point. “It's not my job to reassure you. It's my job to keep Theo safe.”

“Because you're his father.”

“Because I'm— What?” Jesus, she was keeping him on his toes. Throwing things at him left and right, trying to catch him off guard.

“I'm not stupid, though I should have seen it earlier.” She climbed slowly off the bed. His grizzly tracked every nuance of her movement, ready to take her down at the first show of disobedience. “Your frame and his are similar. The eyes are different, but not the jaw. You've got the same belief that you're right and the rest of the world is wrong.”

“I don't think—”

“And that would explain your obsession with him. To the point that you planted Amy next door to us.”

A logical train of thought, though completely incorrect. “Amy was a lucky coincidence. And I'm not his father.” He frowned. “Though I think we're third cousins or something. Once removed.”

“No wonder Nancy didn't want you involved in Theo's life. She said you were insane.”

He growled, deep and low in his throat. It wasn't a sound he liked making, but he couldn't stop it, either. It just happened and it drew her up short. “I'm not Theo's father. Frank died ten years ago.” Probably not the best time to mention that Carl was directly responsible for that death. The man had gone feral and there'd been no choice.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but it's not going to work on me.”

“I don't see this as any kind of game.”
Don't challenge me. Don't challenge me.
The man in him was all but begging her to stay back. The grizzly was busily envisioning all the ways he'd force her to submit.

“Then believe this.” She dropped her voice to a low growl and advanced menacingly on him. “If you hurt Theo in any way, I will see you dead.” And with that, she spun on her heel and stomped into the bathroom, shutting the door with a solid thud.

Carl gripped the desk rather than pursue her. In his mind, his grizzly roared the demand to possess her while the man held him back with every ounce of sanity he possessed. And all the while, he kept replaying her words in his mind, seeing the fire that had burned through her pale blue eyes. No shifter could be fiercer. No she-bear could be more protective of her young. And no woman—shifter or not—could have hit him so clearly between the eyes.

She was magnificent. And she was his Maxima. It didn't seem to matter that she wasn't a shifter and didn't even believe in them. Logic didn't hold sway here. He was the Gladwin Max, and she was his mate. And she'd just threatened to kill him, which—now that he thought about it—was a grizzly bear mating ritual.

B
ecca stared at her reflection in the mirror, desperately trying to think things through. Sadly, it wasn't her strong suit. She was great in a crisis. If you needed someone to remain calm and react with precision during a disaster, then she was your girl. The more panic there was around her, the better she did.

Except this time, she was the only one panicking. She was trapped in a town full of lunatics and hadn't a clue how to maneuver her way out.

But were they really lunatics? Part of her laughed at the question. Werewolves and were-bears were the stuff of bad horror movies. The most obvious answer was that the town was a victim of some chemical spill and the people were suffering from a mass hallucination. That made it all the more important for her to escape as soon as possible before she too succumbed to the vapors or got infected from the water or whatever.

Two things kept her from hightailing it out of Camp Max. First, she couldn't figure out how to escape. Not with the whole town invested in keeping her here. And second, there was something her sister had said about Theo's father.

The kindest thing she could say about her sister was that Nancy was troubled. Their father's abandonment hit her sister the hardest, and Nancy had found escape in the nearest bar. She hadn't even been thirteen, but she and her friends had found a way to get what they wanted, and from there it was a downward spiral. Not all at once. There were better years and worse years. Nancy managed to get through high school and even hold a job for a while. But alcoholics dotted their family tree, and she eventually lost the battle against her addiction.

She conceived Theo in one of those bad times but then made a valiant effort to get clean for the baby. Becca had helped all she could, but money had been beyond tight. They had squeezed every last dime to get by, which is when Becca had pushed hard for Theo's father to help out. Nancy had refused. She'd said the man was an animal. Not ugly or violent. Just a freaking animal most of the time, becoming human only when it suited him. Only she hadn't said animal. Her exact words were “grizzly bear.” Becca had dismissed it as an alcohol-induced nightmare.

Until now.

It couldn't be true, and yet, everyone seemed so committed to the delusion, her own sister included. Fortunately, no one appeared violent except for the whole kidnapping thing. Which meant Becca was somewhat safe for the moment. Her best plan was to keep her eyes and ears open for an opportunity to escape. Until then, she just had to pretend to go along. She'd keep everyone calm—herself included—until she could get the hell out of Gladwin.

That decided, she washed her face, brushed out her hair, and did her best to look like she was completely cowed. Next step: search the bedroom for any weapons. She'd barely gotten started poking through the desk when Mr. Max knocked on the door.

“Tonya's here,” he said through the wood.

“Coming!” she called as she pushed a drawer of files closed. There were names there—neat little folders of people that included lineage, medical history, and lists of incidents. Many ended with phrases like “shot in the heart” or “lost challenge.” She had no idea what that meant, but she sure as hell didn't want to see a folder with her name on it. Or worse, one with Theo's name.

But she didn't have time to think about that as she straightened her clothes—dressy jeans and a now-wrinkled blouse—and headed out the door. Mr. Max was waiting for her, a big hulking presence by the door. He didn't move as she stepped out, unless she counted the way his nostrils flared and his hands twitched in her direction. And she had to pass within a half inch of his body as she stepped into the main room of a very large house. But beyond the way his scent seemed to invade her senses at his nearness, everything else seemed eerily normal.

He didn't speak as he gestured for her to cross to the center of the main living room. The decor was male hunting cabin, complete with an extra-large refrigerator-freezer and a big-screen TV. No deer heads hung on the wood-paneled walls, thank God, but she saw a couple very old quilts on the overstuffed couch and one of the three huge recliners.

There in the middle stood two women. The first was a police detective, her uniform crisp and her posture excruciatingly correct except for the way her head tilted slightly to the side whenever she looked at Mr. Max. Given that she was stunningly beautiful, Becca guessed that the stiffness was her only way to keep things professional in a male-dominated field. She'd been talking to a woman who looked to be in her mid-fifties with dark hair going gray. The older woman wore Crocs on her feet and a loosely tied dress that looked more like a sack with flowers printed on it. On odd pair of women, to be sure.

And when Becca crossed into the center space, the detective's cool gaze assessed her in every way. It was all Becca could do to keep from smoothing down her hair.

“Good evening, Miss Weitz,” the woman said. “I hope you're feeling recovered.”

“From my kidnapping, you mean?” So much for pretending to go along.

The detective's lips twitched. “Yes. From that.”

“I'd like to be taken home, if you please.”

“I could do that, ma'am,” she answered. “But that would be one less pair of friendly eyes looking for your nephew.”

The older woman spoke up, her tone tart. “She still doesn't believe.” Her gaze landed heavily on Becca. “Don't pick stupidity over the evidence of your own eyes.”

“She hasn't seen anything yet,” Mr. Max said, his voice all but booming from above her shoulder. He was standing much too close, but there wasn't room for Becca to move away. Meanwhile, the other women looked surprised, and he raised his hands in a frustrated gesture. “And when was I supposed to do that? When she was unconscious?”

The detective sighed. “We're not getting anywhere until she believes. So go on,” she said with her brows arched at Mr. Max. “Show her.”

Mr. Max crossed his arms and glowered. “I've got my turn at the second checkpoint in just a few hours. I'm not shifting. It'd cost me too much, and I won't put those boys at risk.”

Tonya folded her arms. “I'm not stripping for you.”

“Shut up, children,” the older woman interrupted, her tone the sound of a mother at the end of her patience. Then she turned to Becca. “I'm Marty Dawson, Justin's mom. He's a few years older than Theo, but I think they know each other.”

Becca didn't know. Theo talked more about his school friends than the ones at camp. “It's nice to meet you,” she said as she reached out to shake the woman's hand. But she ended up with her fingers hanging there in midair as the woman untied the sash around her dress.

“I've been through this before. Got two older kids who went through their First Change a few years back. It's nerve-racking, and my Sarah came back with her legs torn to shreds from some fence. She's fine now, but it doesn't stop a mom from worrying.”

How to respond to that? “Of course you worry.”

“And you think we're all cracked.” Marty kicked off her big Crocs. “I wore this just because sometimes I get protective when my kids are running wild. No sense in ripping my clothes.” She looked at Becca. “Pay attention. I'm only doing this once.” Then she looked back at Mr. Max. And she waited. He just stared at her, clearly confused.

“Marty?”

“You know I have to be angry. Say something to get my dander up.”

“Uh… I don't know anything.”

The detective snorted. “Tell her about the dog when you were twelve.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was
ten
.”

“And old enough to know better, I expect,” said Marty. “Come on. Out with it. What did you do to that dog?”

Mr. Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking for all the world like a man about to confess something terrible. “You know those tarts you made that kept going missing? That was me. I let the dog in and staged the scene so he'd take the blame.”

“You let me cage that poor defenseless animal? Just so you could stuff yourself with my tarts!” She took an angry step forward. “Those were for Sarah's birthday party! Those are damned hard to make and— Grrrroar!”

Becca was watching Marty, her amusement kicking in at seeing big, bad Max put on the defensive by a middle-aged woman. But then the change happened.

She noticed the face first, though Marty's shoulders had grown disproportionately large as she advanced on Mr. Max. Then suddenly there was dark brown hair with white tips and a long muzzle. Her arms were raised as she pointed a finger at him, but it wasn't a finger. It was a huge paw with a claw extended toward Mr. Max. The sacklike dress pulled tight across her torso, now doubled in size, and hair—fur—sprouted everywhere.

She was a freaking bear, standing there in a dress while roaring at Mr. Max.

It happened so quickly, and yet every split second seemed imprinted on Becca's memory.

Becca stumbled over her own feet, her entire body feeling cold as she scrambled backward. The detective was there, holding on to her with an incredibly strong grip, keeping her from falling but also keeping her from running. Meanwhile, Mr. Max stood his ground, wincing as the bear kept roaring right in his face. And most frightening of all? The big man no longer looked so big.

And then the bear turned to stare at her.

“Oh, shit…,” murmured Becca.

“Stay strong,” said the detective. “They respect strength.”

What the hell was she supposed to do? Break a chair? Bench-press a Volvo? Nothing was going to stop that creature from attacking. It was still roaring! Or maybe it was more like a growl.

The beast took a step forward. Then another.

Mr. Max slid along with it, keeping himself between the grizzly and Becca. And he kept talking as if she could still understand him.

“It was wrong of me. Dead wrong. But you know I made up for it later. I rescued that dog when he got trapped in Bennet's fence. You know I fed him my food all the time under the table. He forgave me and loved me. You know he did. And I bought you flowers and new tarts when I could afford them. They weren't as good as yours, but you know I meant well…”

On and on he went, diverting the grizzly's attention. The thing didn't walk any closer to Becca. In fact, the more Mr. Max talked, the more the bear growled at him and not her. And then something strange happened. The creature started to shrink and the air in the room seemed to heat. Hair fell off or disappeared. The grizzly hump went down and the shoulders retracted. Pretty soon the grizzly's face became human, displaying a self-satisfied smirk.

“Well, now,” Marty said as she dropped her paws—now hands—onto her hips. “Don't you feel better for getting that off your chest? You been carrying the guilt of a bunch of tarts around since you were ten years old.”

Mr. Max snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “You knew from the beginning.”

“Might be the case. Might be I was waiting for the guilt to eat you alive and make you confess. Didn't think it would take twenty years.”

He snorted. “I was just a boy.”

“And full of mischief. But you got enough to think about in your life without feeling guilty for a bunch of undercooked tarts.”

“Undercooked? Is that why they were sitting out?”

Marty grinned. “They were a bad batch. Those weren't for the party. I was just practicing.”

Max's jaw dropped. “And you let me feel guilty all these years?”

“Well, I figured if you didn't confess, I didn't have to, either.”

They stared at each other, Marty with a lifted chin and a laugh bubbling on her lips. Mr. Max was indignant, but his expression soon shifted to amused. A moment later, he pulled her into a big hug—hell, it was a bear hug—and they chuckled together. And all the while, Becca just stared, her mind reeling from what she'd seen.

Were-grizzlies? No way. It couldn't be.

“I've been infected,” she murmured. Whatever the chemical spill or hallucinatory poison in the water—she'd somehow gotten it. She was insane now, just like everyone else.

Then Marty turned to her, her hands on her hips. “You're not one of those stubborn people who won't believe no matter what, are you? I thought you had more sense than that.”

Becca swallowed. Were-bears? It couldn't be possible. But then her gaze landed on the hair on the floor. Tufts of dark brown with white tips. Without fully realizing what she was doing, she knelt down and picked some of it up. She rubbed the coarse hairs between her fingers, even sniffed them. They were real. Not a hallucination, but real hairs from a real creature.

“Where'd the rest go?” she murmured, looking up at Marty. The grizzly had been almost double her size and weight, and now she was back to being an average middle-aged woman in an oversize sack of a dress. “The hair here doesn't account for all that size.”

Standing behind her, the detective snorted. “You can buy were-grizzly but get hung up on the fur.” The woman shifted to look her in the eye. “It's an energy exchange. Did you notice the change in temperature? Or it's magic. Or maybe it's some sort of special biological DNA that draws from the Force. Who the hell knows? Can't you just accept this and move on so we can talk about your nephew?”

The tone was irritated and the words downright rude, but it was exactly what Becca needed to jolt her out of her shock. Which meant she had a simple choice. She could either cling stubbornly to the mass hysteria idea or leap straight into were-creature land. Given that crisis mode forced her to boil life down to the raw facts, she had to go with the evidence of her five senses. The fur was real. The change was real. Ergo, bear shifters were real.

Maybe if she wished real hard, she could find a knight in shining armor, too.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Tell me why you think Theo is one of you.”