Cole: Black Bear Outlaws #3 (Mating Fever) (8 page)

Flanked on either side by my brothers, we strode into the plush office space. I paused at the receptionist’s desk to ask about Holt and was told he was in a meeting.

“Thank you,” I said to her. “We’ll wait.”

Despite her protests, we took off and headed straight for his office.

“You can’t go in there,” his assistant warned as I was already opening the door.

“Looks like we can. Excuse us.” I held the door open for my brothers and gave her a tight smile before joining them inside.

“Doucets? Jesus, what the fuck are you three doing here?” Holt asked, a grin breaking out on his face as he slammed the phone down, jumped out of his chair, and started tucking his shirt in.

“Settling the score, apparently,” I said as I stopped right in front of his desk.

“What?” His smile vanished at my tone. He frowned and glanced at Cyrus. “Want to tell me what your little brother is talking about?”

“Want to tell me about Clive Folsom?” Cyrus countered.

“Who the hell is Clive?” He stared at Cyrus in confusion. “And why is everyone so pissed off?”

“Clive is the skinny guy with curly hair. The one who used to clean the shop after hours,” I supplied, ignoring the second part of his question.

He rubbed his jaw, and then his brow smoothed out as the lightbulb went on. “That guy you three used to hang out with in high school? The one who was always begging for a tattoo?”

“Yeah, him,” I said, not bothering to hide the disgust in my tone. “And also the one you hired to fuck with my mate.”

“Hired to...” He shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about...wait did you say mate?”

“Yeah, mate.” I clenched my fists, holding them at my sides. “That’s pretty recent, so I wouldn’t expect you to be aware of that. But considering I hired you to research her case, it’s troubling that you in turn hired someone to take her down. Especially since we considered you family.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, anger finally coloring his tone. “I haven’t seen or heard from that little punk in years. Did he do something to Amberly? Is she all right?”

“She’s fine,” I said. “No thanks to you.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but Chase handed him a piece of paper as he cut him off. “You spoke to Clive eight times in the last week.”

Holt snatched the paper, glanced at it and scowled before throwing it back down on top of his desk. “I have thirty-five people who work here, not including the cleaning staff. These could’ve been made by anyone. Fuck. Give me a few days. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

He was putting on a good show, pretending ignorance, but the evidence didn’t lie. “They don’t have access to your private cell number.”

Chase handed him another piece of paper. “You really should be more careful when you’re breaking the law. It’s always the pros who cut corners and get caught.”

Holt didn’t bother looking at the record this time. “I don’t appreciate this ambush. After everything that’s gone down in the past, I’d expect you to have some loyalty. Give me a chance to figure this out before you burn me at the stake, will you? Obviously I have a mole, someone who’s working on the inside to get to Ms. Matthews. I’ll take care of it.”

“Loyalty.” I let out a disgusted huff of laughter. “Is that how you got Clive to do your dirty work? What’d you do, promise him a place in your Garden of Eden?”

Silence.

Chase dropped a pile of paperwork on his desk. “I think when it comes to chances, you’re fresh out. The evidence is more than just incriminating. It’s damning. Conversations on your private line. Notes using your name. Two checks from your personal account.” He pressed his hand to his shoulder, right where the bullet that had been meant for Holt had hit him. “This is what loyalty looks like. I think you might’ve forgotten.”

Holt had been our father’s right-hand man back in the day when Pops had the most productive chop shop in southeastern Louisiana. And the only reason we were all working security now, is because when the shit hit the fan, Chase had taken a bullet and had nearly died. All of us, including Holt, had quit that night and never looked back, or so we’d thought. But it looked like we’d had the wool pulled over our eyes.

Holt picked up the file, scanned it, and as he did, the blood drained from his face, leaving him ghostly white. When he finally looked up, there was anger flashing in his weathered eyes. “I know who did this.”

“Not you?” I asked, not sure if I’d believe him.

“Definitely not me.” He stood and strode to the door, but Chase cut him off.

“We’re not done yet,” Chase said, blocking his way.

“You’re damned right we aren’t. But I think it’s about time we talk to the real suspect.”

“Fine. But you’ll understand if I tag along.”

Holt straightened his tie. “Suit yourself.”

Chase reached around him and opened the door. “After you.”

The pair disappeared, leaving me and Cyrus alone in the office. “Do you believe him?” I asked.

Cyrus shrugged. “I want to, but it’s hard to see how he’s not connected to this.”

I paced the room, itching to call Amberly, to make sure she was all right. But she was with my brothers’ mates, Katrina and Claire. The three of them were more than capable of taking care of themselves.

The door crashed open, and Holt yanked a young man through the opening, holding him roughly by the neck.

“Let go!” the guy yelled, trying and failing to pry Holt’s fingers away from his throat.

Chase followed and calmly closed the door behind him. “It appears perhaps Holt was telling us the truth.”

I sat up, relief flooding me as I stared at our old friend.

He stared back, and then nodded as an understanding passed between us. The old bonds were still there and whatever we were about to find out, Holt was still in our corner.

“This is Brian, my twenty-year old stepson,” he said, his tone cold and unforgiving. Holt opened the file with his free hand and produced one of the checks. “And this is Brian’s handwriting.”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “Why?”

Holt yanked the slumping kid up and ordered, “Explain yourself.”

The boy clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

“Do it. Now.” Holt’s muscles bulged as he tightened his grip on the kid.

Brian’s face turned red and his eyes looked like they were going to pop right out.

“Let him go,” I said. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Holt growled, letting a bit of his inner bear out, but he obliged.

Brian slumped into a chair, holding his neck with one hand.

I moved to stand in front of him and crouched down so we were eye level. “I’m just going to ask you this one time. And if you don’t answer truthfully, we’re going to take all our evidence and hand it over to the LAPD...after we break both of your arms. Got it?”

He nodded, fear emanating from him in toxic waves.

“Why did you target Amberly Matthews?”

He swallowed, glanced at his stepfather once, then back at me.

“Chase? Cyrus? You two ready to snaps some bones?”

They moved in, but Brian squirmed and shook his head. “Wait. I’ll tell you. If I do, you won’t kill me, right?”

“That’s right. No killing. No bone breaking. If you tell us what we want to know,” I confirmed.

“Okay, okay. Jesus. I didn’t know he was going to take it that far. I swear to God. He was only supposed to scare her. Make sure she didn’t come back to L.A. for a few months.”

“Why?” I snapped, already losing patience with the sniveling little idiot.

“Because...” He grimaced, and his face turned a dark shade of maroon. “My girlfriend asked me to.”

“Who’s your girlfriend?” I asked, already pulling my phone out.

“Breela Paulson.”

I froze, instantly recognizing the name. “You mean the actress Breela Paulson? The one who’s now starring in Amberly’s movie?”

Brian stared at his feet, and when he didn’t answer, Holt sighed and nodded. “That’s the one.”

T
he nightly news blared in the background as I touched up my makeup. It was the first time Cole was going to accompany me to an industry function—the premier of my movie Ceri.

It had wrapped six months ago, and since then we’d been splitting our time between L.A. and Bayou Basin. We’d been making a home for ourselves in each city and trying to avoid the never-ending media crush connected to the trial.

Brian Davies and Breela Paulson were both on trial for attempted murder, conspiracy to commit a murder, and a host of other charges. After Brian’s confession, Brex Holt had immediately picked up the phone and, to his stepson’s horror, reported the crimes to the police. Theft and petty crime were one thing, kidnapping and murder were entirely another. He had gotten his stepson a good lawyer, but that’s as far as he’d gone to help the misguided soul.

Breela, as it turned out, had been the mastermind behind the entire thing. She’d planned all the attacks, instructed Brian on what to do, and had even been the person who’d referred me to Holt Enterprises after the first attack, knowing that because of Brian, she’d always be able to keep tabs on me. It had been a brilliant scheme to get me out of the way, right up until she’d decided I needed to disappear permanently and ordered Brian to put a hit out on me.

That’s when things went south. Clive wasn’t a professional hitman. Hell, he’d barely been functional. Thank God. That was likely the only reason I’d survived.

“Amberly,” Cole called from the other room.

A small smile played on my lips as I joined him.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, the remote in his hand. God he was handsome—movie star quality in his sleek tux and ocean-blue tie that matched his eyes. He grabbed my hand and tugged me down to sit on his lap.

“Hey you,” I pressed a soft kiss to his lips, trying not to smear my lipstick for the second time.

“The verdict is in.” He waved at the television.

I turned and caught sight of Breela and Brian sitting at the defendants’ table while the judge read the verdict.

My body tensed, and my stomach turned at seeing their faces. How could two people be so evil? And what if they were acquitted?

Cole squeezed my hand. “It’s going to be fine. Whatever happens, we’ll be just fine.”

I nodded, knowing he was right.

But when the lead juror confirmed they were both guilty on all counts, tears filled my eyes, and for once, I let them fall unchecked.

Cole held me tight and stroked my hair as he whispered, “You’re going to have to redo your makeup.”

I let out a choked laugh. “Who cares?”

“You will when you see the mascara streaks all over TMZ in the morning,” he teased.

I wiped at my eyes, horrified.

“Relax. I was only kidding.” He winked and gently slid me off his lap as he stood. “It’s just one mascara streak.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Are you decent?” Claire called.

“Never,” Cole answered.

I rolled my eyes and pulled the door open. A very pregnant Claire was dressed in a sparkling silver-beaded dress and had her blond hair piled on her head in a gorgeous updo. “Hey. What’s up?”

She supplied a bottle of sparkling apple cider and tugged on my arm. “We’re celebrating. For those lucky enough to be able to drink, we have actual champagne on ice. Now get your asses downstairs.”

I pulled back and patted my eyes. “Wait, I have to fix this mess.”

“What mess? You’re fucking gorgeous,” she said. “Come on. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Cole shrugged and grabbed my other hand. He gave me a secret smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. “If they lady wants to celebrate, who are we to argue?”

“That’s the spirit,” she said and took off down the stairs.

“No,” I said to Cole, already knowing what he was thinking. “Now isn’t the time.”

“It’s the perfect time. They’re all here. Everyone’s happy. The trial is over. And they’re going to find out sooner or later. It’s better if it comes from us and not the gossip rags.”

“Amberly!” This time it was Katrina calling. “You’re holding up the party.”

I shook my head, amused. “My sisters-in-law seem to be a little excited about the premiere.”

Cole chuckled. “They’re excited all right. It’s not every day they get to meet Brad Pitt.”

I gave him a side-eye glance as we made our way down the stairs. “You know he’s not part of the movie, right? The chances of him being there are slim.”

“Whatever. As long as Angelina shows up, everything will be just fine.”

I punched him in the arm.

He laughed and slipped his hand around mine. “Come on, princess. The ladies have something for you.”

We walked into the family room and I stopped dead in my tracks as the rest of the Doucet family yelled, “Surprise!”

The entire room was decorated like a showcase nursery. A crib, complete with a teddy bear mobile was off to one side. The most gorgeous rocking chair sat at the edge of a brightly colored throw rug. And to top it off, there was a matching dresser and changing table.

But what really got me, what made my heart nearly explode with love, were my two baby nieces running around in cub form at their parents’ feet.

Claire stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. “Congratulations. We can’t wait to meet your little one.”

A tiny sob escaped my lips as Katrina wrapped her arms around both of us.

“Cole wasn’t supposed to tell you yet,” I forced out as fresh tears of happiness slipped down my cheeks.

“He didn’t, sweetie,” Claire said. “We’ve known for weeks. But since we’re flying home tomorrow, we decided it was time to celebrate.”

“Weeks?” I asked. “But how?”

Katrina laughed. “Please. It’s the glow. All mama bears have it. When Claire first got knocked up again, I knew right away. You can’t hide it, honey. But honestly, I don’t know why you even want to. This is a good thing.”

“I know.” I wiped at my eyes, no longer caring what the makeup situation was. “I just didn’t want the world to be talking about that while the trial was going on. I wanted this one thing to be just for us.”

Cole slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me in for a hug. “So did I, princess. So did I. But now that the cat—er cub—is out of the bag, what do you say we celebrate? Want to paint this town red before we go back to Bayou Basin tomorrow?”