Chase: Black Bear Outlaws #2 (Mating Fever) (7 page)

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I heard him whisper into my ear, “You always did think you were better than me.”

I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but everything was blurry. Then he grabbed my hands, and something cold bit into my wrists. I jerked up and let out a moan as my head exploded with pain. Curling on my side, I held my head with my bound hands and tried not to vomit.

There was loud knocking on my office door, followed by the unmistakable rattle of the doorknob. “Katrina!”

Thank God. It was Dasi. Why couldn’t they get the door open?

“Open the door, Cody! Hurry. Something’s wrong. Katrina’s locked in there with a crazy person.”

“Crazy. That’s right, bitch. And don’t you forget it,” Stan snarled and yanked me up, throwing me over his shoulder. “Good thing I thought to lock that door. Those two seem to think they’re going to save you. Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

The putrid smell of stale cigarettes and marijuana wafted from his clothing, and despite my dimmed state, hatred filled me. It was exactly how Ty had always smelled after a weekend bender spending all the money I’d saved. Years of resentment and frustration boiled over. Back then, I’d let Ty walk all over me for the sake of our “marriage.”

I hated being walked over. Regretted the day I ever met Ty. Despised Stan. And I was unwilling to let him get away with assaulting me or abducting me from what was going to be my new home.

No. Way. In. Hell.

As I heard the shattering of a window, I closed my eyes and focused on that inner light that was always present deep in my gut. The magical spark instantly came to life. I embraced it, willing my bones to shatter, to elongate, to reform in the image of my bear.

Everything hurt, and blood trickled from my nose as my skin itched and my insides heated with the magic.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Stan gasped out, dropping me to the floor. “You can’t shift now, you stupid bitch. I have plans.”

The door burst open, and I heard pounding footsteps along with shouts and growls.

Then I felt a tentative hand on my back. “Katrina, what are you doing? What about your cub?” Dasi whispered.

Her words stopped me mid-shift.

My cub
.

Bears could shift during pregnancy, and often did in the very early stages, before they realized they were expecting. But the further along one got, the more dangerous it was. It was common for most bears to forgo shifting until after giving birth. The changing process was just too risky for the little one.

I lay on the floor panting, my motherhood instincts screaming at me to stop, but it was too late. I was already partially formed, and to stop could have bigger consequences. With tears rolling down my face, I let the shift take over, leaving me in my bear form with whatever restraints Stan had used on my wrists long gone.

A low growl sounded from behind me.

I spun, the headache and darkness gone. My vision was perfectly clear and trained on the skinny bear with patchy Chia Pet fur.

Cody was behind him in the process of shifting and Dasi was behind me, calling in reinforcements. I wasn’t sure if she called the Doucets or the police, but it didn’t matter, because in about two seconds, Stan was going to regret he ever walked into my office.

Stan let out a low snarl and then swiped his ragged paw at me. I ducked my head, dodging his slow attack, and immediately came up on my hind legs, my front paws reaching for his head. He tried to roll to the side, but I caught him with my left paw, leaving four bloody claw slices down his neck.

Blood dripped onto my new white carpet, fueling my already out of control rage. Meeting Stan’s stone-cold blue eyes, I growled, the sound sinister and full of deadly promises. He growled back, adding an extra snarl just so I knew he was still well in the game. Then we circled each other, each of us waiting for our opening.

But then he got impatient and swiped at me, leaving me the perfect opportunity. I barreled head first into him, accepting his half-assed blow to the top of my head. I barely felt it as I rushed him. One claw connected, slicing his gut at the same time I clamped my jaws down on his shoulder.

He let out a roar of pain, and tried to scamper backward, but my hold on him was too vicious. If he tried to break free, I’d rip his muscles wide open. If he did nothing, he was at my mercy. Exactly where I wanted him.

Movement came from behind me, and I took a moment to sniff the air. Cody. He’d shifted and was prowling the office, ready and willing if I needed backup.

Stan started snarling again, but I bit down harder and pressed a claw into the flesh at his neck, making sure he knew exactly who had the upper hand—or claw—so to speak.

He froze and stared up at me with hatred.

The feeling was completely mutual.

“Katrina!” Chase appeared in front of me as if he was straight from a dream. He was wearing cargo pants, a black T-shirt, some sort of security utility belt, and was carrying what appeared to be a tranq gun. “Jesus. What happened here?” 

“He’s her ex-brother-in-law,” Dasi said. “He wanted to talk, but from what we can piece together, he attacked her, locked the door, and then tried to kidnap her through the broken window. But we don’t know why.”

He glanced at the bleeding Stan. Then back at me. “Did he attack you?”

I pressed my claw further into Stan’s neck, forcing a pathetic whimper out of him, and then freed his shoulder. The tang of his salty blood was on my tongue, making me gag, but I nodded to answer Chase’s question.

“That’s all I needed to know.” He aimed the tranq gun and pulled the trigger. A second later, Stan went limp.

I backed up until I was all the way on the other side of the room, suddenly needing to be as far away from Stan as possible.

Chase watched me without saying a word as the room exploded with activity. Cyrus and Cole arrived along with the town sheriff. The few other workers who were on staff were gathered in the doorway, gawking.

I ignored it all and curled up into a ball in the corner, holding my paws over my belly, wondering what would happen to my cub once I shifted back.

“Listen up everyone,” Chase said, his voice full of authority. “We need to clear the room. Katrina needs to shift in privacy.”

I heard the shuffle of feet and murmurs of questions as they retreated out of my office.

“Dasi?” Chase added. “Can you call an ambulance?”

“I’m on it,” she said.

“Cole? Cyrus? Can you take this piece of shit out of here?” Chase asked, gesturing to Stan. “That all right with you sheriff?”

“It’s fine by me. Throw his ass out in the dumpster for all I care. Lowlife drug-runners. Too bad she didn’t rip his head off.”

I shuddered at the thought. I could’ve. I was angry enough. If they hadn’t shown up when they had, if he’d pushed any more of my buttons, I might have.

Chase finally made his way over to me. But instead of saying anything, he just slid his way down the wall and sat next to me, resting his hand on my back.

I moved slightly to the right, snuggling in closer, and nudged his arm with my nose.

“You want me to pet you?” He chuckled softly.

I nodded. Most bears would eat the hand off someone who tried to pet them. But after what just happened, I needed him to soothe me.

“You got it, pretty girl. You did well today.”

Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. But I was alive, and Stan was on his way to join Ty in lockup. If it was the last time I saw either of them, it would be too soon.

T
he cold air-conditioning in the hospital room seemed to seep right into my bones. I couldn’t understand how Katrina was handling it, lying there with her hospital gown bunched up just below her covered breasts.

“This is going to be a little cold,” the technician said, holding a tube of goo over her still flat belly.

“Cold I can handle.” Katrina squeezed my hand. “Anything to find out if the little one is okay.”

“Just relax,” she said and turned to push a button on the sonogram machine. “We’ll have your little peanut up on the screen in no time.”

We’d been waiting in the room for over two hours. The doctor had said we needed to wait a while after Katrina’s shift for the baby to settle down before they’d check his or her progress. The shift, they’d said, was harmless in most cases, but because Katrina’s had been brought on out of fear and pain, her risk was higher due to the sudden onset of stress. Stress that could hinder a cub’s ability to thrive.

The wait had been excruciating. With all my angst of never wanting kids, it was clear to me I was full of bullshit. There was nothing more important to me than Katrina and the child she was carrying. I’d already been ready to beg her forgiveness, to get down on my hands and knees and beg her to marry me.

But when she’d called and sounded so off, I’d known something was wrong. There was a feeling deep in my soul that had felt her panic. And then when I’d walked into her office and seen the blood, the chaos, her holding that jackass down, and all I could think about was her and the baby and keeping them safe. With me. Forever. If this appointment didn’t end well—I shook my head, unable to even comprehend such an outcome.

“There we go,” the tech said, smiling and pointing at the screen. “See there? That’s your baby.”

The sound of a steady heartbeat filled the room and instantly settled my nerves.

“And?” Katrina asked expectantly. “Is little Doucet doing okay?”

Little Doucet. The words made me grin down at her like an idiot.

“Little Doucet appears to be just fine,” she said.

Katrina and I both let out a sigh of relief at the same time.

“Healthy heart beat, good movement, development on target with age. It’s all good news, but—,”

“But what?” Katrina sat up straighter and tightened her grip on my fingers. “You said everything looked good.” My girl turned to me, her eyes frantic. “You heard her right? She just said everything looked good.”

I gently caressed the back of her neck, trying to calm her down. “I heard her, love. But let’s give her a chance to explain herself, okay? As your aunt Francie says, let’s not borrow trouble, huh?”

A bit of the panic faded from her eyes. “You spoke to Francie?”

I nodded. “I called her while you were in with the doctor. She said she’d be in the car first thing in the morning. Looks like you’re getting company until she’s sure you’re fine.”

Katrina let out a little groan. “Ugh, okay. But all I want to do is sleep for a week.”

“That’s probably a good plan,” the tech said. “As I started to say earlier, you know shifting can be risky. It appears that the baby is just fine judging by the sonogram. But babies who’ve been party to a traumatic shift sometimes end up having trouble shifting into cubs. It’s something to watch for after they are born. Some grow out of it, some never do.”

“Can’t shift?” Katrina asked.

“Sometimes. There’s therapy and some experimental vitamin regiments if it comes to that, but you should cross that bridge when and if you come to it.” She flipped the machine off, silencing my child’s robust heartbeat.

“Let me get this straight. You’re saying we could end up with a non-shifting full-blooded shifter?” I asked.

“Yes.” She nodded. “The best thing to do is to make sure your wife gets plenty of rest, and has minimal stress. Treat her like a queen and most likely everything will be fine.”

I didn’t bother to correct her about the wife label. Katrina would be mine soon enough. “That I can do.” Leaning over, I kissed the top of her head. “Are you up for it?”

“For being treated like a queen?” Katrina asked. “I think I can go along with that. But it’s going to be hard to do when I still don’t have any furniture or cable.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I said, stroking her lovely face. “You’re moving into my place today.”

“Your place?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “That’s quite the commitment, don’t you think?”

“Our place,” I corrected and placed my hand lightly on her belly. “Commitment was never the issue. Make no mistake, I’m in. All in. You, me, the cub. You’re both mine and I want you with me. Always.”

Her eyes misted. “Okay. I’m in, too.”

“Good.” I kissed her temple sure my heart was going to explode. “And while you’re lying around eating bon bons and watching day time television, I’ll cook for you and run all your errands. You can order new furniture so it’s not a bachelor pad, plan out the nursery, hold hen parties, do whatever you please, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Bon bons and daytime TV?” she asked. “Who do you think I am? Melinda Greyson?”

I chuckled. “No, thank God. It was just an expression. You can do whatever you please and I’ll take care of the heavy lifting. Deal?”

“Can I work?”

I frowned. “You mean manage the gym?”

“Yes. As much as possible while I’m resting. But yeah. It’s my dream. I don’t want to give it up.” There was a challenge in her tone, and I wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from.

“I’d never stop you from doing anything you wanted to do,” I said carefully. “Hell, I’ll even help you if you need me. My only concern is that you and the baby are safe and healthy. As long as work isn’t stressing you out, then sure, work. Do what you love. I’ll support you.”

Tears gathered in her bright blue eyes. She grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me in close. “That, Mr. Doucet, was the perfect answer.” Then she kissed me.

“T
hey’re here,” Chase called from the living room.

I was in the baby’s room folding laundry and cooing at Quinn, our five-month-old baby girl. She had curly black hair and my bright blue eyes. Not to mention her adorable smile. Just looking at her brightened my day. I picked her up and rubbed noses with her. “Hey, sweet girl. Are you ready to go play with your cousin?”

She let out a small gurgle of a laugh and reached out to tug on my hair.

“I guess that’s a yes.” Grinning, I toted her out to the backyard where I found Chase and Cyrus already at the grill. Claire was sitting on a blanket in the grass, bouncing Tegan on her knee. The blond-haired baby girl was six months old and Quinn’s bestie.