Papa Bear (Finding Fatherhood Book 1)
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Authors: Kit Tunstall,Kit Fawkes
Amourisa Press and Kit Tunstall, writing as Kit Fawkes, reserve all rights to Papa Bear. This work may not be shared or reproduced in any fashion without permission of the publisher and/or author. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
© Kit Tunstall, 2016 Cover image: svtrotof; pellinni; Wavebreakmedia; Hannamariah
Edited by C.M. Editing Services
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Papa Bear (Finding Fatherhood, Book One)
Kit Fawkes
Contents
In the Finding Fatherhood series, these shifters become daddies in unconventional ways.
U.S. Marshal and bear-shifter Lucas Anderson failed to protect his pregnant witness, so when she asks him to adopt her daughter as her dying wish, he can’t refuse. Angel is a sweet baby, and he soon feels like Papa Bear, and maybe she’ll be the key to help him wear down his mate’s resistance. Libby has shut him down for months, and he knows they belong together, but she won’t give him a chance to prove it. Can the stubborn bear and his baby win her over to their readymade family? Can he keep his mate and child safe when the cartel that killed his witness comes after him, putting all three in danger?
“I can’t believe it’s finally time. I’m soon going to hold my little girl.” Astoria Martin’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she said the words, seeming not at all bothered by the contractions that had grown steadily closer and longer, prompting them to leave the safe house and head to the hospital.
Lucas was impressed by her equanimity and her lack of nervousness. He glanced at his partner, Tim Crosby, with a small grin. The other man seemed more nervous than the expecting mother, which was amusing. He didn’t allow his amusement to show, or his focus to stray from the street around them, as they stepped out of the apartment they had holed up for the last six weeks, going to ground to protect Astoria. Her testimony was crucial, but it wasn’t just her status as a witness that prompted him to protect her any longer. He’d grown close to the young woman, and though Tim was one to play it close to his chest, he must have done the same.
Astoria suddenly grabbed her stomach and slumped forward, and he knelt beside her, at first assuming a powerful contraction had seized her. It was only when he lifted her slightly upright that he saw blood staining the front of her white maternity dress. It was far too high to be from a birth complication, and his training as a federal marshal kicked in, allowing him to instantly identify it as a gunshot. “We’re under fire,” he said to Tim.
Tim pulled out his gun, clearly searching high and low for the source of gunfire. Lucas focused on Astoria, lifting her into his arms and running to the line of cars on the street. He hunkered down with her there, wincing at the scrape of metal as bullets dinged around them. He caught Tim’s eye and pointed upward, certain from the trajectory that their sniper was a level or two above them. Tim nodded before slipping around the apartment building and out of his view, clearly intent on tracking down their sniper from behind.
Lucas didn’t have a radio, but he used his cell phone to call emergency services, routed through his department. He demanded an ambulance, along with backup, and then hung up the phone and shoved it back in his pocket. He stripped off his jacket, using it as a crude compress against the gaping hole in her abdomen.
Astoria’s eyes fluttered open as he pressed against her wound. “Is the baby all right?”
He felt helpless, which he hated. “I don’t know, Asti. Can you feel her kicking?”
She hesitated for a moment, closing her eyes, and it was difficult to tell if she was unconscious or focusing on the baby inside her. A moment later, her lids fluttered open, and she managed a small smile. “She’s still kicking. Kind of frantically. Do you think the bullet hit her?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. It’s too high up, but she’s probably sensing your distress.” Either that, or her blood supply was interrupted, prompting fetal distress, but he didn’t want to share that theory with the young woman and make her fear even worse.
Thankfully, the sweet sounds of a siren rapidly approached, and as Tim came back into sight, walking out in the open, Lucas realized he hadn’t heard any shots fired for at least a couple of minutes. “Did you find the fucker?”
Tim shook his head as he knelt down beside them on the sidewalk, careful to skirt the pool of blood forming around Astoria. “I got a glimpse of him, but he was quick. He must have realized we’d identified his location, and I chased him, but he was already gone. That fucker is fast.”
Something about Tim’s words bothered him, but he didn’t have time to dissect them at the moment. The arrival of the ambulance, along with three paramedics, distracted him and returned his focus solely to Astoria. She clung to his hand as the paramedics bundled her onto the gurney, careful with her, but moving quickly. As they started to load her into the ambulance, she said, “Please come with me, Lucas.”
He nodded, prepared to insist if the paramedics tried to prevent him from doing so, but they didn’t say anything. One got behind the wheel, and the other two were in the back working on her, so he climbed inside and tried to tuck himself into the corner near her head. The door slammed shut a moment later, and they were off.
He pushed the fine blonde hair off her face, alarmed by how pale and clammy she was. “Hang in there, kiddo. Your baby needs you.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a sad smile. “I’m dying, Lucas. Aren’t I?”
His knee-jerk reaction was to deny it, but as he glanced up at one of the paramedics and saw him nod, he admitted the truth to her instead. “Yeah, it looks like it. I’m sorry I failed you and Angel.”
Her grip tightened marginally around his hand, and it was difficult to tell if she was trying to comfort him or in response to pain ripping through her as she wailed suddenly. “I think the baby’s coming. Now.”
It wouldn’t surprise him if the stress of the last few minutes had accelerated her labor, and he glanced up as one of the paramedics lifted her dress, quickly averting his eyes back to hers. He heard the paramedics discussing her dilation and detected something about ten centimeters, which sounded familiar. He’d spent the last six weeks studying birth manuals and parenting books with Astoria.
“I want you to take her.”
He jerked. “What? Take who?”
She was panting, and it took her a moment to gain her breath. “I want you to take the baby. Promise me you’ll raise her, Lucas. I don’t have any family, and I sure as hell don’t want her to end up in foster care like I was for my whole life. You’ll love her and take care of her. I know it. Will you take my daughter?”
He froze, not certain how to reply. The idea of him raising a child seemed laughable. He was thirty-six years old and fully dedicated to the U.S. Marshals program. His ex-wife could have given the young woman a million reasons why he’d make a terrible father, but it was impossible to deny her dying request. “If that’s really what you want, but she might be better off with a mother and a father.”
Somehow, Astoria managed to find a shred of strength to tease him. “You’ve mentioned your neighbor Libby more than once. Maybe Angel will have a mother soon enough.”
He was startled anew at her perceptiveness, and also at the realization he’d been talking about Libby. Ever since running across her six months ago and recognizing her as his mate, his bear had been all for pursuing her. Libby so far had shut him down the few times he’d invited her to go out, so he no longer bothered with invitations, but he hadn’t given up on finding a way to claim her yet. He also hadn’t realized he was so obvious about his feelings. “Maybe so,” was all he could think to say.
The birth escalated rapidly, and while one of the paramedics delivered the baby, the other had set up an IV, and they were squeezing whole blood into her as quickly as possible, applying pressure to the bag in an effort to get it into her body that much faster.
With one last scream from Astoria, the baby slipped into the paramedic’s hands. She started crying right away, and the paramedic quickly placed her on the woman’s stomach, careful to avoid the gunshot wound. As he worked on the baby, cutting the umbilical cord and whatever else he had to do for a newborn, she weakly lifted a hand and caressed her baby’s hair. “I can’t be sorry about anything, since it gave me her.”
He didn’t like the weak, thready tone of her words, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. The whole situation left him helpless, and raging against that feeling would do nothing to fix it. “I regret plenty. I’m sorry you were shot. We thought it was safe.” Tim had gone out for recon before they’d ever left the apartment, returning with the news that everything appeared clear. He’d been gone for fifteen minutes, so he must have conducted a thorough sweep of the neighborhood, yet he had somehow overlooked the sniper. It made Lucas’s stomach churn with nausea, and guilt settled heavily on him.
“I want to hold her,” she said in a slurred voice.
Lucas looked up at the paramedic, asking, “Are you done with the baby so she can hold her?”
“I should get her Apgar scores.”
He frowned with impatience. “Angel’s mother is dying, and it’s her only chance to hold the baby. Can’t that wait?”
After a brief hesitation, the paramedic nodded and lifted Angel from her mother’s stomach and stretched to place the baby into her arms. “Help her hold the baby so she doesn’t drop her.”
Lucas nodded and leaned forward, placing an arm around and under Astoria’s to support the small bundle in her arms. He didn’t know what color eyes Angel had, but she had dark hair, indicating she’d inherited that from her father, Deacon Hunt. He grimaced at the idea of the poor little girl having anything from that criminal, but it certainly wasn’t Angel’s fault.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Her words were barely audible.
He nodded. “She’s very beautiful.”
“Promise me.”
This time, he didn’t have to hesitate, and when he uttered the words, he meant them. “I promise I’ll raise Angel just like my own daughter. I’ll make sure she knows all about her brave mother, and I won’t let her forget you.”
Astoria looked stricken for a moment. “She’ll never even remember me.”
His heart stuttered in his chest, and he had to swallow to clear the lump of moisture from his throat before he could speak. “She will. I’ll make sure she remembers you, or at least knows so much about you that she’ll be unable to tell the difference between a real memory and everything she’s heard about her mother.”
That seemed to satisfy her, and she managed a tiny smile before her eyes closed. A moment later, her arm under his went slack, and the baby started to slip from her grip. He lifted her instinctively, bringing her against his chest. She fit there perfectly, and she was so tiny that he could hold her with one arm, and his large hand completely covered the back of her head. He was larger than average, so perhaps it was simply that, but she seemed tiny, delicate, and fragile. Looking down at her, a surge of love swept over him, and he knew he’d have no problem keeping his promise to Astoria to raise her daughter. She already felt like his.
Libby looked up when the bell on the door chimed, alerting her to a customer. When she was up front in the small shop, it was unnecessary, but it allowed her to hear an entry whenever she was in the stockroom or upstairs in her apartment above the shop. Her heart skipped a beat when she recognized Marshal Anderson. He hadn’t been around for weeks, and she was startled to realize she’d been unconsciously keeping track of that fact. She’d done everything she could think of to dissuade him when he had expressed an interest in dating her, but she hadn’t been so successful at stopping the attraction she felt for him. She was all wrong for him, but it didn’t keep her heart from racing in excitement at the first sight of his face in weeks.
Her first realization was he looked exhausted, with new lines on his face, and bags under his eyes. She started to ask him about it, but then the second fact filtered into her brain as she realized he wore a baby strapped to his chest with some kind of complicated-looking device. She had no name for it, since she had no babies, but she had to admit it was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen, looking at the large cop with his tiny baby strapped to his chest.
Abruptly, she frowned as it struck her he’d spent the last few months trying to get a date with her, and he must have known all along he was going to be a father. It was disturbing, and she scowled at him. “What do you want?”
He looked startled, even taking half a step back before he paused. “I need some more of that Japanese matcha tea. I’m out.”
She nodded briskly, trying to show only a professional front and not reveal any of the anger and betrayal sweeping through her. They were emotions she had no right to, but she couldn’t deny it left her feeling ill-used to know he was involved with someone else and trying to pick her up. Typical male—which she would have thought was an unfair aspersion until she learned the truth about him. He was just like every other guy she’d ever known, and his badge did nothing to prevent him from acting like the classic sleaze.
She turned to the display of tea behind her, immediately going for the jar inlaid with mother-of-pearl. She knew exactly what tea was in each of the three hundred ceramic canisters behind her, and she plunked it down harder than she’d planned onto the glass counter, making both of them wince. “How much do you want?”
“Six ounces for now.”
With a stiff nod, she took the jar to the scale at the opposite end of the counter from the register and quickly measured out his order, sliding it into a plastic bag before wrapping it in a brown bag to protect some of its properties.
When she reached the register again, she dropped the tea on the counter. “That’ll be eleven dollars and eighteen cents.” She didn’t even have to ring it up to know, having done so frequently enough to know how much to charge him, even with tax. Before his disappearing act, he’d been stopping by the store three days a week to get his six ounces of tea, ignoring her suggestion that he should buy in larger quantities and wouldn’t have to stop by so often.
He handed her his debit card, his confusion obvious. “Have I done something to offend you?”
The professional thing would have been to offer a bland smile and a reassurance, perhaps even an apology for her own behavior, but she wasn’t feeling particularly professional, especially with Lucas. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I find it pretty offensive that you’re involved with someone else, but you’ve been trying to get me to go out with you for months.”
His confusion was obvious. “I’m not involved with anyone.”
She snorted, pointedly eyeing the baby asleep on his chest. “Maybe our definitions of involved are significantly different then, Marshal Anderson.”
He winced. “I thought you were going to call me Lucas.”
She glared at him. “And I thought you weren’t a lying horndog, so I guess we’re both wrong.”
He surprised her by laughing. “You’re jealous.”
She shook her head. “You’re crazy. I just don’t appreciate your behavior. I’m never going out with you, so I have nothing to be jealous about. I just don’t like you lying to me. I don’t like anyone lying to me.”
His amusement faded, and his expression turned grim. “I wasn’t involved with anyone. I promise you that, Libby. Angel isn’t technically my daughter, though I’m her foster father and in the process of adopting her at her mother’s dying request.”
She stiffened at his words, and then sympathy overwhelmed her as she looked at the sleeping baby. “Oh, that poor little angel.”
His lips quirked. “That’s her name. Astoria named her Angel.”
“The moniker suits her.” She ran the debit card, realizing she’d been holding it during their conversation, and quickly returned it to him. “I’m sorry I was unprofessional. Lying is something I can’t tolerate, but it isn’t any of my business.”
He took his debit card, deliberately brushing his hand against hers in the process. “It is your business, and we both know it.”
She shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He smiled. “Now who’s lying? You know I want you, and I know you want me too. The only thing I don’t know is why you’re keeping a wall between us. Why don’t you just have dinner with me?”
Her shoulder stiffened, and she shook her head. “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
He was clearly frustrated as he ran a hand through his hair. “Why not? Are you involved with someone else?”
“Like I told you months ago, no, I’m not, and I don’t plan to be. Relationships are more trouble than they’re worth.”
He shook his head. “Generally, I’d agree with you, but it’s different with us.”
She let out a small sigh. “No, it’s not. It wouldn’t work between us, so let’s just remain friends.”
He rolled his eyes. “Give me one good reason why it wouldn’t work between us?”
It hovered on the tip of her tongue to blurt out exactly why he wouldn’t want her when he learned the truth, but she bit back the urge to confess.
Never tell the cops anything revealing.
Her mother’s words thundered through her ears, as crisp and fresh as they’d been the first time she’d heard them when she was just eight years old. It had been one of the many life lessons taught to her by her shady mother, and like the others, it was difficult to shed. “It just wouldn’t.”
With a sigh of his own, he picked up the bag of tea. “I’m not giving up. I’m never giving up.”
“You’re starting to sound like a stalker.” Despite her snarky words, she couldn’t deny that excitement filled her at the idea of him continuing to pursue her. It was flattering, even though it was difficult to resist him, despite the best reasons to do so. “I guess I’ll see you in two days for more tea.”
He looked grim as he nodded. “I guess you will.”
***
She was wrong about two days. Her phone rang early the next morning, so early it was practically still the night before. Her eyes were glued together as she fumbled for her phone, barely managing to open them and look at the alarm clock beside the bed. She cursed when she saw it was only a little after three a.m. “They’d better be dying.” As she muttered the words, she finally oriented her phone the right direction and swiped the screen to answer. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, especially this late, but I don’t who else to call.” Lucas’s voice emerged from the speakerphone, sounding tired and frantic all at once.
Concern swept through her. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t get her to stop crying, and I don’t have any friends or family nearby. You’re my only friend in the area.”
She could hear the baby screaming in the background, and concern filled her. “I don’t know anything about babies.”
“Join the club,” he said, somewhere between snapping and joking. “Will you please come help me?”
She could imagine how much it humbled the big man to ask for help, and she wasn’t hard enough to deny his request. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.” After hanging up, she slid out of bed and dressed quickly, throwing a flannel shirt over her fluffy pajama bottoms and camisole tank top that she had worn to bed. She shoved her feet into shoes and slid her phone into the shirt’s pocket before leaving her house.
Lucas lived behind her in a small house he had purchased a couple of months ago. No, it must have been longer than that now, because he’d been all settled in for at least a month when he’d disappeared. They lived in one of the older neighborhoods in San Diego, which was a mix of commercial and residential, and though it wasn’t an affluent area, it was safe enough to walk from her shop to his house that early in the morning without having to be too safety-conscious.
As she tapped on the door, he opened it with a screaming baby in one hand. He looked harried, and she could feel another layer of the ice she’d placed around her heart to keep him out crack and start to thaw. That was the last thing she needed, but she didn’t have time to focus on her own weakening resolve as he allowed her to cross the threshold before closing the door behind her. A moment later, her arms were full of baby, and she stared down at the infant with some helplessness of her own. “What am I supposed to do with her?”
Her stressed father threw up his hands. “I have no idea. I’ve been walking with her, I rocked her, I gave her a bath, and I fed her.”
“Did you change her diaper?”
He gave her a look that revealed just how stupid he thought the question was, though he was kind enough not to say it. “Of course I did. Nothing seems to work. She’s not running a fever, or I’d take her to the hospital. Do you think she’s teething?”
She shrugged. “How old is she?”
“Eleven days.”
She shrugged again as she patted the baby’s back and started pacing with her. “I have no idea. Why don’t you Google it or call her pediatrician?”
He seemed happy to have a purpose, and he strode to the computer tucked away into the corner of his living room, taking a seat at the desk with an air of relief that suggested he was relieved to be sitting. He was probably relieved to receive a small reprieve from holding the screaming infant too.
She knew nothing about babies, but it made sense to comfort the little one, so she jostled her gently and rubbed her back with one hand while supporting her head with the other. After a few minutes of searching, Lucas made a sound of what could have been satisfaction. She moved closer to him. “Did you find something?”
“Yeah, though I’m not sure it’s exactly good news. It sounds like she might have colic. Is she drawing her legs up to her tummy still?”
She looked down, finding the baby curled up in just that position. “Yes.”
“Does her tummy feel hard?”
She cupped it gently. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but it’s definitely firmer than mine.” That wasn’t much of a comparison though, since she was a curvy woman, and the baby was tiny, and certainly not one of the adorable chubby kind. She was still awfully adorable, even when screaming, but she didn’t have a lot of extra baby fat.
“It sounds like colic, though she’s a bit young for it. I have to go to the store to get some supplies. Do you mind watching her for a few minutes?”
“Of course not. I just hope they have what you need.”
“Me too. I hate hearing her scream.”
She put a hand on his arm as he stood up, patting lightly. “I think you’re doing a good job at this fatherhood thing. Don’t let a little screaming get to you. I bet babies do this all the time.”
He looked faintly alarmed. “I certainly hope not. Hearing her cry is the worst thing ever.”
She could have interpreted that as him being irritated with the baby’s noisiness, but the tender way he looked at the infant revealed he hated the sound because it was representative of Angel’s suffering, not because it irritated him. Crack went another layer of ice around her heart, and she was tempted for a moment to shove the baby back in his arms and run away before the rest of the ice melted. Of course she couldn’t do that, so she just held onto the baby and watched him leave the house five minutes later, his determination to ease his daughter’s suffering making it awfully hard to maintain her resolve to avoid entanglements with the law enforcement officer.
She looked down at the baby in her arms, who continued to wail. “Your daddy’s a heartbreaker.” Not because he was deliberately cruel, but because his tenderness was breaking through her heart and the walls she used to protect herself. He was dangerous to her, not because he was threatening, but because he was so tempting. It was getting harder to remember the reasons why it would never work out with Lucas.
***
It was nearly ten a.m. before Angel settled down completely, falling fast asleep in the sling. Libby had been the one walking her at that point, because Lucas looked just as exhausted as his daughter, and he was now snoozing on the couch. When she was certain the baby was asleep, she moved into his bedroom, where he’d set up the crib. She carefully removed the baby from the sling and laid her down on her back, looking around for blankets or a pillow, but not seeing them. Perhaps you weren’t supposed to use them with infants? With a shrug, deciding the room was warm enough with the baby’s fluffy sleeper, she tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door cracked, and made her way back to the living room.
Lucas was still asleep on the couch, and she bit her lip as she debated about whether she should wake him before leaving. Ultimately, she decided she should. He might prefer to sleep in his own room, and either way, he needed to know he was the only adult available. She briefly considered staying, but she was dead on her feet too, and staying would mean sleeping beside Lucas on the couch or borrowing his bed. That idea was far too tempting, especially when she imagined him sprawled in it beside her.