Bearing It All (13 page)

It almost sounded as if the police detective slapped his leg.

“Because his bear poked a hole in all of Ronan's condoms?”

Anisa shot Magnus a dirty look and the bear shifted his eyes forward and lowered his head to his chest.

Kendric's laughter grew louder and he snorted a time or two again. “Ye fell out of the feckin' sky and landed on the bear's chin, yer crotch smelling like wild strawberries?” He paused to catch his breath. “And then…and then ye kicked the bear in his arse? Ye also kicked Ronan's nuts clean up to his navel…och, sweet Lord. Whew! Bloody hell, this is story number two I canna wait to hear, after I hear yer confession, of course. Aye. I'll have all Ronan needs at the landing strip. Here are the coordinates.”

Anisa punched them into the GPS. “You know, Detective, I don't appreciate being laughed at, especially after I had to shove this bear's ugly ass into his seat with a bullet in my shoulder.

“All you Scots are freaking nuts. So is your wildlife. What kind of white owls do you have up here that fly in the daytime in front of helicopters? I can't seem to get away from it.”

“Och, our
cailleach-oidhche. He's our sleuth's protector and guide. Just follow him home, lassie.
'
Tis his way of seeing to Ronan. He willna steer ye wrong.”

Right, like she'd follow some stupid owl. She headed the helicopter toward Mathe Bay, using the coordinates the policeman had given her. If she went to jail, so be it, but Ronan and Magnus would be safe. How could she come to love a man and a bear as a child, in so few days? She didn't know if she could go on without either one, but she'd have to if she was incarcerated for the rest of her life—or worse, sent home and shot as a traitor. Fate had one weird sense of humor.

Magnus seemed to slip in and out of consciousness. Or was he merely sleeping? A shiver of fear skimmed across her skin. If she lost Magnus, she'd lose Ronan, too, and that she simply couldn't bear. “Ronan, I love you. I need you. I'm your woman. You promised to love me forever. Don't you dare die.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and concentrated on reaching Mathe Bay, doing her best to ignore the white owl determined to lead the way.

When she finally zeroed in on the coordinates of the helipad near the police department, Magnus was unconscious. Anisa was having some dizziness and chills, no doubt from loss of blood and her clothes being wet from the melted snow.

There were two ambulances near the landing area. One was huge and the other was normal sized. About twenty people stood by the vehicles. Almost all the men wore kilts. There were also four bears manning a huge gurney.

Once she gently set the helicopter down like the experienced pilot she was, she turned off the motor and opened the door. She didn't know which hurt the most—her head or her shoulder.

A tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit strutted toward her as she slowly exited the aircraft. “Detective Matheson?”

“Aye.”

“Ronan's bear is badly hurt and unresponsive. Please see to him first. I'll wait right here. Ronan and Magnus—that's what I call his bear—are more important than I. They need medical care immediately. You must take care of them right away. You needn't worry about me running. For some reason, it's all I can do to stand.”

“Calm down, lassie. The medics are bringing the heavy-duty equipment over now. They'll see to yer man.” He glanced at the crew with the smaller ambulance. “Need a stretcher for the lass!” his strong, commanding voice rang through the cold air.

She glanced over her shoulder and the movement caused the headache she'd been fighting to escalate through the stratosphere. To keep her balance, she leaned against the edge of the opened door.

“In that case, I am Major Anisa Brosseau. As promised, I'm turning myself over to you.” She pulled out a double-layered plastic bag and handed it to him. “Here are the files I've copied onto exterior drives to prove my innocence. There are also videos taken in my apartment by hidden cameras. I…I ask you to keep them as private as you can without putting your job in jeopardy. I love my country. I am no traitor.” The scene around her began to spin. “I will gladly and truthfully answer any ques…”

Anisa opened her eyes to slits, which was all the glaring light her splitting headache could accommodate. She was in bed, a hospital bed, bandaged, and hooked up to monitors as she floated on a cloud of fuzzy drugs. Too bad her head hung off of the cloud because it could have used a lot more medication to ease the pounding pain.

Two women were whispering. Even so, with the room so quiet, she was able to discern what they were saying.

“Her vitals are good, Effie. She's a strong woman. Seems in excellent shape. Unless some kind of infection sets in, she'll be able to leave in a couple days.” The nurse made an adjustment on Anisa's IV drip. “So, Ronan finally fell in love. I hope she can put a smile on his handsome face. He was always polite and helpful, but there was a sadness in his soul. I could sense it, so I could.”

What? How does the nurse know about Ronan and me? Have they put an announcement on the front page of the paper?

“Yes, we had to choose a special woman for Ronan. With the need in his heart, he deserved this one.”

Anisa's gaze drifted to the diminutive woman who spoke now. Holy hell, she had pink hair!
These must be some damn powerful drugs. What old woman has pink hair…and one blue eye and one brown? And what does she mean we had to choose? Who the hell is “we”?

The pink-haired woman gave the nurse a one-armed hug. “Thank you, Davina. Earnan has always praised your work. He says you're one of the hospital's finest nurses.”

“Och, Effie, I do miss the auld veterinarian and doctor around this place. His replacement, Thane, is wonderful. There's not a thing wrong with him, handsome devil that he is. It's just we get used to certain people and how they do things.”

“Yes, I know. Earnan treats me like a queen, but I still miss my Morris. I guess I always will. If you have other patients to see to, I'd like to stay here with Anisa, if I may.”

“Going to work some of yer magic on her, are ye? Just keep an eye on her bandages. Make sure she doesna start bleeding again. I'll be back in an hour or so to check on her.” The nurse hurried out, her soles squeaking and causing an unholy echo in Anisa's head.

The little woman, wearing a pink and black zigzag-striped pantsuit over a black turtleneck, resembled a skinny zebra who'd OD'd on Pepto-Bismol. She shuffled to close the door behind the nurse. “You can stop pretending you're asleep. I noticed the change in your aura a few minutes ago. It's time we get acquainted, Anisa.” She pivoted and shuffled back.

What kind of shoes was the old woman wearing that made that strange noise? Anisa looked down.

Sweet God in heaven, she's wearing pink pelican bedroom slippers to match her pink hair, which can't be there because I am drugged out of my freaking mind.

“Who…who…” Anisa's throat was almost too dry to talk.

“Need some water, dear? My name is Effie.” She held the plastic cup so Anisa could get some sips from the straw. “My granddaughter, Paisley, is married to Ronan's eldest brother.”

“Creighton?” she croaked.

“Yes.” Effie's wrinkled face beamed with affection. “They just had the most adorable pair of twins and I am having the time of my life spoiling them. But, for now, I'm going to spoil you a wee bit. At least before Kendric comes charging in here with all his police questions. So, for now, let's enjoy getting to know each other. I'll talk while you rest. When the drugs pull you back under, go with the flow. You do need to heal. Sleep will help.” She smoothed Anisa's already-smooth sheet and cover, her fingernails glowing with neon pink polish.

“You're the friend who gave Ronan those glow-in-the-dark rubbers?”

The old woman's face, made up with pink eye shadow and hot pink lipstick, smiled all over. “Yes. And it's good to know you made use of them.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. His bear punched a tiny hole in every one so I'd have to stay with Ronan and him.” Her eyelids got heavier. “I call him Magnus.” She took in Effie's pink hair again. “Although I call myself insane at the moment. Most importantly, how is Ronan? Please tell me!” She reached for Effie's hand and got a whiff of baby powder. “My Ronan. Tell me he's still alive.”

“He's currently in surgery.” Effie's cool hand cupped Anisa's cheek. “So far, so good, my dear.”

The next time Anisa woke, the room was dark except for a little fluorescent light above her bed. She shifted to see if anyone else was in the room and noticed a bandage on half of her head. Her hand rose and she was surprised to find a large portion of her scalp and part of her forehead covered in gauze.

“Don't be alarmed, Anisa. You had large wood splinters in your scalp and forehead. The medical staff referred to them as wooden shrapnel.” The odor of baby powder grew stronger as the slight, older woman leaned over her. “Bad news is they had to shave off some of your hair to make sure they found all the pieces. The good news is there's a marvelous little wig shop here in town.” She patted her short pink curls. “I lost all my hair when an evil wizard set it on fire. Creighton bought me a platinum wig at the boutique that made me the spitting image of Marilyn Monroe.”

My God, what kind of drugs are they giving me?

“You also had a bullet in your shoulder the surgeon removed. He said you had some damage to the muscles at the entry wound site he had to repair.” Effie shook her head several times and clucked her tongue. “How you hung on long enough to fly that helicopter here is a mystery to me.

“I sensed you were in trouble, so I said some olden words for your protection. Had I known things were that bad for you, I'd have done more.”

“More?” What was this old woman prattling on about? Had they left her with a mental patient? That would certainly explain the pelican slippers and the obvious obsession with pink.

“Yes. More. I'd have called my Wiccan sisters all over the world and asked them to speak to the chief wizard on your behalf.”

“Wiccan? Are you telling me you're a…a…”

“Witch, dear. I'm the high priestess of a coven called the Protectors. We chose you especially for Ronan. He needs your sense of humor, your spunk and sass. He was sinking into a depression and didn't even know it. Poor soul did not grieve properly for the loss of his father.”

The door to her room slammed open and a dark-haired man, a few inches taller than Ronan, wearing a navy turtleneck and a plaid kilt with long, thick stockings and boots filled the doorway. He stood staring at Anisa. “What do ye think, Grandma Effie?”

“She's perfect. Will you stay with her for a few minutes while I go get some coffee?”

“Of course. Anisa and I need to talk.” He slid the chair Effie had used on an angle before settling on it. “Does this make it easier for ye to look at me? I dinna want to give ye a headache. I spoke to yer surgeon and he's concerned about all yer head wounds.”

“It does. Thank you. You must be Creighton.”

“Aye. And 'tis a grateful brother I am fer all ye did fer Ronan and his bear. They've survived surgery and are in recovery.”

“Oh, thank God!” Her hands covered her eyes and she sobbed with relief for a few minutes. Creighton handed her several tissues from the box on her nightstand. She dabbed her eyes. “I was so worried. I don't know what I'd do without him. Your brother is very special. Although he makes me mad as hell at times, I don't think another man on this earth could ever measure up to him.”

He leaned toward her and enveloped her hand in both of his large ones. “Aye. Ye'll do. Ronan hasn't regained enough strength to shift back and he might not fer a day or two. Me bear did speak to his. Ronan's bear adores ye. As soon as ye feel able, I will carry ye down to his room. I dinna think he can rest enough to recover until he sees ye are okay.”

“He's asked that I call him Magnus.”

Creighton's dark eyebrows dipped into a V. “So ye two have talked? Bear to woman?”

“No. We talk through Ronan, but Magnus does understand what I say. I just don't have a handle on bear-speak.”

He sat back and crossed his arms. “Tell me how ye came to fly over Ronan's land.”

She told him the story, beginning with finding the sticky note on her boss's monitor and the cameras and listening devices in her apartment. She spared no details to this man with a commanding air and stern face, but when she voiced her experience about jumping out of the drone and landing on Magnus, the corners of his mouth twitched. She imitated as best she could how she tried to scare the bear off. Hearing someone, who she now knew was Ronan, laughing, she kicked the bear in his arse and then pulled her revolver from inside her flight suit, causing him to run off.

Creighton roared with laughter, making the pain in her head ring louder but bringing comfort to her heart, for he sounded so much like Ronan. The nurse, who was in her room earlier, pushed in a wheelchair, her face flush with exertion. “Laird Creighton, we've got to get her down to Ronan's room. His bear is frantic fer the need to see her. The nurses down there canna control him. They called me in to try to calm him since I'm a shifter, too. I understand what he's saying and he's almost crying for Anisa.

“They've called Dr. Thane at home and he's concerned the bear will rip out his stitches. Since Ronan's bear is still under some of the heavy surgical anesthesia, Thane canna order more to make him unconscious again so soon.” The nurse unhooked Anisa from the monitors and held out a robe for her to slip on. “I think ye'll be all right, hon. Just a few minutes to calm him.”

“Yes, whatever helps Magnus. He's very emotional. In some ways, childlike.”

Creighton stood and lifted her onto the wheelchair. “Ye get the lift doors open, Davina. I'll push her.” Anisa hadn't prepared herself for his strength and nearly got whiplash sitting in a chair as he charged toward the elevator.

“We willna stay but a minute. Ye need yer rest, too.” Creighton's dark head came into view in her peripheral vision as he leaned over her shoulder. “Ye are Ronan's intended and I'll take care of ye un—”

Anisa grabbed his thumb and bent it backward. “No one takes care of me, but Ronan. And I only allow it because I care for him so much. Until he's able, I'll take care of myself. With all due respect to your position, I'm no weak female. I've knocked your brother on his behind a few times. Don't give me cause to dump you on yours.”

Creighton laughed as he turned her wheelchair around in the elevator. “Och, aye. I love ye more and more. Ye're exactly the type of woman me brother needs.” He kept on snickering. “I can hear the fighting now. Whee!” He tapped her uninjured shoulder with his large index finger. “Of course 'tis the making-up part that makes life worthwhile.”

The doors whispered open on Magnus's floor. Anisa could hear him roaring as soon as they stepped out of the elevator. Creighton rushed her chair into the bear's room. Magnus was wild-eyed and struggling against the restraints they had across him. His head was bandaged and there was also a large padding of gauze across his abdomen.

Anisa stood and leaned over him so they could make eye contact. “Magnus. How is my handsome bear?”

He locked his eyes on her and blew through his nose.

She cupped his face. “I'm here. You must lie still. Can you see you and I are just alike? We both have bandages on our heads.” She touched the gauze dressing on his head and then touched her own. “We are the same.”