A Lion Shame (Bear Creek Grizzlies Book 3) (6 page)

T
he last thing
she remembered was watching Tate hold up a bundle of more money than SJ had ever seen in her life, then everything went hot and cold all at once and she just kind of... fell. She still felt woozy and her head ached when SJ opened her eyes, expecting to still be on the floor of the garage next to the car — packed with drugs! — but instead, she was inside. In Rosie's living room.

And when SJ opened her eyes, Tate leaned over her, frowning. The world wobbled around her as she stared up at him, the rest of the room kind of soft and far away as Tate's gaze caught her and something clicked into place. Of course. He was there.

"Easy," Tate said, and shifted a couch pillow under her knees. He flicked a small flashlight in her eyes and SJ winced, still trying to piece everything together. The big guy patted her shoulder as he put the flashlight away. "Sorry. Just had to check your pupils. Do you know what day it is?"

"I hope it's still Wednesday," she said under her breath, and Tate cracked a smile.

He schooled his expression back to a rather stern indifference, but SJ felt like she'd seen the first peek of the real Tate. Maybe he wasn't actually the gruff asshole who lurked at the bar and didn't want to talk to anyone. She started to wonder who he really was, what he dreamed about, what he wanted from life.

Everything felt dreamy and soft and slow, even lying on the hard floor of Rosie's living room, and SJ watched Tate as he retrieved another couch cushion. He frowned a little more as he studied her. "You feel like sitting up?"

"Maybe not yet," SJ said. "The room is still kind of spinning."

"Have you ever fainted before?" Tate sat back against the couch, close enough to keep an eye on her, and stretched his long legs out near hers. "You were out for longer than I expected."

"I don't think so." SJ didn't want to think too hard about it, since she didn't want to talk about the last fight with Chuck, when he knocked her out and she didn't wake up for a while. Anxiety spiked as a metallic taste filled her mouth, and SJ sucked in a breath to call out or maybe just to cry, except Tate moved.

His foot bumped hers and he leaned forward to rest his fingers against her wrist. "Take a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Nice and easy."

But the panic didn't recede. The room started to close in around her and SJ's heart jumped until she couldn't breathe, couldn't move — just panicked. Just soaked in the desperately awful situation she was in. All the terrible choices she'd made weighed down her chest until she only hiccupped and choked as sobs threatened to break free. She finally broke free from Chuck and it was still awful. She took a car full of drugs and money from a drug dealer. He'd never let her go. She'd have to run forever. She would never be safe. And neither would Dakota. That was the worst part — she put her daughter in danger.

Her hands shook as she covered her face, not wanting to cry like a baby in front of Tate. At least Rosie wasn't there, and though she felt like a terrible mother, SJ was glad Dakota wouldn't see her so upset. She wanted to curl up in a ball and sob, defeated. Even her fresh start wouldn't last.

And then the air around her moved and something warm sprawled on the floor next to her — Tate. SJ started to move away, not trusting herself or her instincts when it came to men. Tate felt safe — but so had Chuck at one point. SJ didn't dare open her eyes in case it was all a dream and it was Chuck there with her instead, but Tate brushed the hair back from her face and grumbled something unintelligible.

She sucked in a breath when his arm slid around her, and then SJ found herself sprawled half on-top of his solid chest — all muscle and a soft sweater, unlike Chuck's doughy middle. She started to sit back, to worm free, not wanting to crush him with the baby weight that still stuck around, but Tate held her close and sighed. "Breathe with me. Nice and slow."

SJ tried. She tried. The breath hiccupped and jumped as she struggled to put thoughts of her ex-boyfriend and his drugs out of her head, but her mind raced back to him with every other breath until she thought she'd fall apart completely. Tate sighed again and SJ felt more like an idiot, since clearly she couldn't even appreciate a guy trying to be patient and helpful. But instead of pushing free, Tate rubbed her back in long, slow strokes, from her shoulders all the way to the top of her butt. His other hand gently nudged her head to his shoulder until SJ's face pressed against his neck and she could hear the steady beat of his heart.

It felt like just a blink and still forever before the panic receded and the clean, masculine scent of his skin worked into her brain. His pulse thrummed, strong and even, in her ears, and SJ exhaled. The tension started running out of her, until she relaxed and closed her eyes and tried to release all of that fear. The first step to solving the problem was identifying what it was and shining some light on it, just like he'd said. At least she knew what she was dealing with.

A shitload of money, to start. All that cash... In the back of her head, she could see all that money paying off her school fees, buying her new scrubs and interview clothes, financing her nursing license and additional education, and taking care of paying Rosie back for everything. All that money solved all her problems, even if it wasn't her cash. Knowing where it was tempted her to take a brick or a couple of stacks of the money as payback for all of Chuck's shitty behavior.

She dozed, feeling warm and safe for the first time in years, and blinked slow and sleepy when Tate started to snore. It was a gentle snore, almost a purr, and she smiled a little to herself before closing her eyes again. A puddle of sunlight from the window crept across the floor and warmed her feet. She felt more connected to him after two days than to anyone else in her entire life, except Dakota.

Some time later, Tate spoke, still tracing the path of her spine with gentle fingers. "We can fix this. We just have to know what we're dealing with, Sarah Jane."

"I feel stupid," she whispered to his neck, not daring to lift her head. It felt safe, there in his arms, and she didn't want to bring memories of Chuck into that. "I should have known. I should have left sooner, or called the cops, or something. I should have seen it, and I —"

"Guys who do this for a living can be very good at hiding," he said, and she wondered how much he knew about guys like Chuck. Tate had been pretty efficient at finding where all the drugs were hidden, and there was no way that knowledge was totally innocent. Tate leaned and kissed her forehead as his hand settled low on her back, a comforting weight. "Don't feel stupid."

"He works with a bunch of guys, maybe a dozen. They all work together but he never said exactly what they did. Which should have been a red flag." SJ laughed and tried to shake her head and ended up nuzzling Tate instead, which she didn't entirely mind and he didn't either, if the way he squeezed her butt was any indication. "They carried guns and would disappear for a couple days at a time, sometimes. We had a nice apartment, but there was one time that Chuck woke me up in the middle of the night and we had to leave in a hurry — just threw everything in the car and left."

"What about in the last couple of weeks before you left? Was anything different? More people around, less people? More weapons? New vehicles or anything like that?"

She frowned, trying to remember even though it was only a couple of days in the past. Chuck kept so much hidden it was difficult to know what normal actually was. And he always told her she didn't remember right, or she'd dreamed something, so there were some days when SJ didn't trust her own memory. But Tate's questions seemed so innocuous, so simple... and he'd already said that he could figure things out on his own as well. Anything she added would help him.

SJ took a deep breath, feeling her breasts press against the hard wall of his chest, and Tate shifted underneath her as SJ's hips settled a little closer. She blushed but didn't flee, enjoying the sensation of a calm man holding her close and not immediately pulling her pants off to get to business. But SJ pushed away the thought of how Tate might be different in bed. She needed to focus. "Chuck seemed more on edge. Well, a lot on edge. He could be nice, sometimes, but the last couple of weeks he was a total asshole. He yelled more and ... hit me a couple of times, and got angry at Dakota."

Tate made a strange rumbling noise in his chest, something like a growl, and his arms tightened around her. As if wanting to protect her from the ex-boyfriend. Tate patted her butt again in encouragement. "What else?"

"There were more guys around the apartment. Strangers, mostly, and they didn't get along with the guys Chuck usually worked with." She frowned, some of the tension returning. It had felt like a pressure cooker the last few weeks, as the new guys eyed the old guys and once a fight broke out. Motorcycles roaring in and out of the parking garage at all hours, and random strangers knocking on the door and scaring the hell out of her. "I overheard some of them talking about a delivery, but they stopped whenever I was around."

A big delivery. All the whispers and arguments she remembered started to make more sense, and SJ had a hard time believing she'd actually been able to ignore that much. Of course they'd been gearing up for some big deal. Something huge and dangerous and involving a bunch of rowdy strangers who showed up in the middle of the night. Her stomach tied in knots again and SJ started to sit up. "I need to get out of here. I have to get rid of that car, or call Chuck and tell him where it is, or something. I don't know. But I can't just wait for him to find me. He'll kill me. I know he'll kill me, and even if he doesn't... The guys he works for sure as hell will. I just stole a million dollars from them. I stole from them and I know what happens to people who do that kind of thing. It doesn't end well. It won't —"

"Calm down," Tate said, watching her as SJ slid to the floor. "We can figure out —"

"It's nice that you want to help," SJ said, staring around the apartment and trying to figure out what to do next. She couldn't just run. She had to think of Dakota. She had to be smart, for once. Maybe she could just call Chuck and tell him where to pick up the car, hopefully far away from Bear Creek and Rosie and everything that SJ wanted in her future. "But this isn't your problem. I don't need to be dumping all of this on you, and I appreciate that you want to help, but you've already done more than I ever expected to —"

She was on the verge of hyperventilating, the words flowing out of her mouth in a torrent she couldn't control as SJ struggled for composure. She wanted to get up and move, to physically start packing and doing something, and hoped her legs would hold her up. Except she looked at Tate and held her breath, mesmerized by the sudden flash of light in his eyes.

He leaned forward and then his lips pressed warm and soft against hers, and he was kissing her. SJ drowned in the kiss, the gentle caress of his fingers along her cheek, and she melted. Tate's hand worked into her hair and held her closer as he deepened the kiss, and the room spun around her. He felt like the only steady spot in the entire universe. The only rock she could lean on. SJ closed her eyes and clung to him, hoping some of his confidence would inspire her.

T
ate hadn't planned
to kiss her. She was just coming out of a really unhealthy relationship, and he wasn't exactly the most stable guy to be around. He wasn't interested in a relationship after having his heart torn out and shredded when Monique changed her mind about forever. And he sure as hell couldn't handle all the chaos that Sarah Jane brought with her, or the mess of her past choices. He didn't want that. But Sarah Jane's breathing grew ragged and he heard the panic in her voice as she realized, maybe, just what a dangerous situation she was in. When she clambered off his chest and started looking for an escape route, he tried to distract her. Words didn't work, and the mountain lion took over.

The lion wanted her. Knew she was theirs. Insisted that he protect her and comfort her when she woke up from the faint, and the worry that clutched at his heart when it took so long for her to open her eyes still threw him off. Tate didn't like the wildness in her eyes as she searched the room, so he kissed her.

He only meant for it to be a quick, chaste kiss. Something to disrupt the swirl of chaos that chattered from her trembling lips. But the moment he tasted her, felt the warm pressure of her lips and the soft slide of her tongue, he was lost. The kiss deepened until the universe realigned and everything and nothing made sense at the same time. He thought he'd loved Monique, and maybe he had. But that was a drop of rain compared to the ocean of love, of cherishing and desire and tenderness, that he felt holding Sarah Jane in his arms. He felt... complete. For the first time in his life.

And that pissed him off. She wasn't the mate he wanted. The universe was fucking with his life again, and taking things away just when he thought he'd resigned himself to surviving another year. Sarah Jane felt more like a burden than a mate. She wasn't worldly or traveled or sophisticated. She was nothing like Monique, nothing like Paris or the memories he loved the most. She wasn't what he wanted. And he didn't care how much the mountain lion part of him wanted her. He could bury those feelings and continue on without a mate. She was human and there wasn't a reason for her to ever know about shifters or being his mate. It would be better for everyone if she just moved along as soon as they got the car things resolved.

He couldn't breathe when he finally released her, and Sarah Jane's eyes remained half-closed. Her hand rested against his chest, and the warmth of her touch seared him even through the sweater. The lion started purring, wanting to curl up with her somewhere in the sun — somewhere more comfortable than the floor — regardless of how Tate felt about her.

She trembled, looking up at him suddenly with a hint of panic still lurking in her gaze. "Tell me this will be okay. That Dakota and I will be fine."

"You'll be fine." He held her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks, and debated how much to tell her about the guy she'd been seeing. She didn't need to know how nasty he actually was, from what she'd described. The guy hadn't been a prize, and if Tate ever met him, Tate would tear him apart for daring to hit her, but if the ex blamed her for losing the shipment, there was very real danger if Sarah Jane remained anywhere near the car. But he didn't want to scare her. "You and Dakota will be fine."

He didn't know if she believed him, but it was the best he could do for the time being. Tate shoved to his feet and helped her up, careful to keep a hand at her waist as Sarah Jane wobbled, and by the time he got her to the kitchen table to sit, Rosie walked in from putting the baby down for a nap.

She glanced between them, maybe able to sense the new connection, but if she did, Rosie hid it well. Rosie retrieved some sodas from the fridge and a plate of cookies as well before sitting next to Sarah Jane. "Okay. Now that we know mostly what we're dealing with, we need to figure out what to do next. Tate, any ideas?"

He had ideas, definitely, but none of them would make Sarah Jane feel any better. He pulled out the chair next to her and sat, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to sort out which of his old friends he could call for help. Asking for help from the feds was a possibility, though that raised the chance that Sarah Jane would be required to testify and might end up in the Witness Relocation Program, which meant he'd never see her again. That option didn't really appeal to him, particularly as the lion paced and snarled in his head and Sarah Jane struggled to maintain control despite Rosie's comforting squeeze of her hand. And Tate didn't really want to get any of the criminals he still knew involved, either. While they'd take care of Chuck and his dirtbag associates, they might also recognize the potential of a small place like Bear Creek and decide to horn in on his territory. Tate didn't like the idea of inviting them into his new town.

But both Rosie and Sarah Jane watched him, so he had to come up with something. Tate drummed his fingers on the table. "There's probably a tracker in the car. In those kinds of cars, there always is. I didn't look for it because I didn't want to disrupt it or turn it off, because then they know the last location and that someone has their stuff. So first we need to decide what to do with the vehicle."

"Leave it somewhere far away," Rosie said. "Burn it. I don't give a shit, as long as it's not here."

"But if we get rid of the drugs and the money, and they come looking for it and I don't have it, what will they do?" Sarah Jane looked a little less disoriented, and a hint of fortitude crept into her expression. Ready to fight. "No. I think I have to give Chuck the car back and make sure he knows that I didn't steal anything. I couldn't pay for it, if he wanted me to make up what he lost. But I don't think I can just give him the keys and walk away. I don't think he'll let me." And she shivered.

Rosie shook her head. "It'll be fine, babe. We'll ditch the car and they'll never find you again. Right, Tate?" She gave him a murderous look, daring him to say otherwise.

Tate leaned back in his chair. "I agree with Sarah Jane. Even if this guy never tracks her down, she'll always be looking over her shoulder to see whether he's turned up."

And Tate would never sleep again, worrying about the same thing.

Rosie's eyes narrowed. "So you're suggesting that my dear goddaughter, the mother of a one-year-old, just hands over a car full of drugs and cash to the bastard drug-dealer who beat her not even a week ago? That's your plan?"

Tate really wanted a drink. He loved Rosie and her protective instinct, and tried to be grateful that such a fierce predator was looking out for Sarah Jane. His mate. Tate pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, I am not suggesting that. I'm suggesting that we have to be smart about how we deal with this. We don't have a lot of time or room to figure this out. It's possible that this guy is already on his way here. We don't know how many guys he'll have with him, or what he plans to do. So we need to figure out what Sarah Jane is comfortable with, and then look at the what's possible."

"He could already be here," Sarah Jane said, then repeated it, as if to make herself believe it. "He could be here already. Waiting outside."

Rosie grumbled and shot him a dirty look, then got up to lock the front door and set the chain. Tate tapped the table near Sarah Jane's hand to get her attention, worried about the hiccup in her words. "This is a small town and we'll know the second a stranger shows up, particularly if he brings friends with him. So he's not here, and we'll know if he does make an appearance. Okay?"

He waited for her nod before going on. "I have some ideas but I'm going to need your help with the details."

Sarah Jane nodded and sat up, bracing her hands on the table. "Do we call the cops, maybe?"

"Not just yet. I have some experience with cops, and while our sheriff is ... unique in his ability to interpret the law, badges always complicate things." The sheriff led the local wolf pack and was a hell of a guy, but the second he caught wind of meth moving into the town, chaos would erupt and Sarah Jane might get caught up in it. "All right. Walk me through the guys that Chuck works with. Describe them to me — names, jackets or bandannas they wore, cell phone numbers, associates, anything. It's all helpful."

Sarah Jane didn't look excited about going over all of it, but he needed to know who he was up against. As the afternoon ticked away and he continued interviewing Sarah Jane for any useful information, Rosie went downstairs to open the bar and keep an eye on things. Tate liked having Sarah Jane to himself, and he even managed to make her laugh a couple of times. He loved her laugh, as shy as it was, and didn't mind missing his nap at all.