Target: BillionBear: BBW Bear Shifter Paranormal Romance (17 page)

Jameson shrugged, the last shred of his sympathy totally gone. “I’m sorry you didn’t find your manimals, but I really think someone was smoking a little too much Maui Wowie.”

Marlo sighed, and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Yes. After listening to these cretins in the other room ramble on about bears and porcupines, I came to the reluctant conclusion that someone has perpetrated a gigantic con, probably to attract tourists, because there sure is nothing else in this crap town. And I let the desired outcome dictate my research methods, and how I evaluated the data. I’m giving it up and going home.”

“That sounds more rational than chasing nudist cults,” Jameson said.

She gave her head a last rub, and dropped her hands. “So I’m leaving the minute the police are done with me. I take it you are going to release yourself from rehab?”

“You’re free of one responsibility, at least. You don’t even need to call Beth—I strongly suspect by the time we are done here she will be on her way to Boston’s lockup.”

She nodded. “I’m glad your memory returned. I never liked that doctor who Beth insisted be in charge of your case—I thought he was over-prescribing for you—but his methods seem to have worked, since here you are.” She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Right now I need a hot bath and a cold drink.”

“I’ll leave you alone,” he said. “Take care.”

She nodded, and he went out, closing the door softly behind him.

He stood on the balcony, breathing in the sea-salt air. He had recovered his bear, he had his memory back, his brother was wrapping up the loose ends, and the home-wrecker who had ruined what should have been his parents’ last years together would soon be on her way to a long career behind bars.

And—most important of all—he had found his mate.

Ten minutes later, he was in her waiting arms.

Epilogue

“Are you sure these aren’t too tight?” Kesley asked her sister as she glanced in the mirror at the bright jeggings under the clingy tunic top.

“Rock those curves, Bandit,” McKenzi said. “You know Jameson is going to take one look and steam will rise out of his ears. The question is, do
you
like them?”

Kesley stared at herself in the mirror. The truth was, she had always wanted to dress like her sister, but had never dared. During their teen years, McKenzi had never given a damn what anyone said, but Kesley wasn’t made that way. When her few boyfriends had made comments about weight, and clothes that hid fat, she had put up with it because she hadn’t expected anything better.

Those days were over, she thought as she looked at the low-scooped top, showing her cleavage. Jameson had made it clear in every possible way that he adored her just the way she was.

“I love this outfit,” she stated.

She felt good as she walked out of her little house to the brand new car Jameson had given her. She was going to have to get used to that. She had tried to protest until she’d seen how much pleasure he got out of giving her things.

McKenzi, of course, threw herself into the sports car, spreading out luxuriously on the fine leather seats. “He has great taste, your Jameson,” she said. “I could almost stick to one guy if I could find one like him.”

“There isn’t anyone like him,” Kesley said loyally.

“Well, I want to get a load of this brother,” McKenzi said, wiggling her brows. “I only got the briefest glimpse of him during the fight. Daay-am, he was hot! Then he vanished like some kind of Robin Hood. If lawyers and Robin Hood belong in the same sentence.”

“Charlie decided to fly back east and personally see to wrapping up the mess that woman caused.”

“Yeah, and when you have a private jet you can do that sort of thing,” McKenzi said, sighing. “I suppose it’s too much to hope he would take one look at me and fall in love. Though I’m not sure I could stick a long-term thing, maybe having a few million spent on me would cushion the blow?”

Kesley had to laugh. “I doubt it works that way.”

“Well, a girl can dream,” McKenzi said as Kesley drove them down the mountain.

Jameson was there waiting with Charlie. Now that Kesley could see them together, she noticed that Charlie was nearly as tall as Jameson, and every bit as big. What kind of shifter was he? Maybe it was too nosy a question on a first meeting. She had lived among shifters so long that she had no idea about the etiquette of meeting a new one.

Her mate greeted Kesley with that sweet, private smile, and gave her an admiring look that made her feel like she was made of light. Then he introduced his brother. Close up, Charlie was indeed handsome, with blue eyes instead of hazel, and somewhat lighter hair. His clothes looked really expensive—as did Jameson’s, his brother having brought a lot of his wardrobe back from the east coast.

Kesley found them a little intimidating, these big, drop-dead hot guys standing side by side, until Charlie came forward with a broad smile a little like Jameson’s as he said, “I’m so glad to meet you in saner circumstances. Thanks for looking out for my big bro while his brains were out to lunch.”

They all laughed, and suddenly the atmosphere was easy.

The four of them went to Ralph’s. Charlie looked around with interest, then gave his brother a look that Kesley found difficult to interpret. Charlie shrugged one shoulder, then Jameson said, “Even with my memory gone, I should have known something was wrong when that expensive perfume of Beth’s nearly gave me hives.”

He paused as Ralph and his son approached with big trays of barbecued ribs, crispy fries, and tart cole slaw.

After they had all been served, Charlie leaned forward. “Among the million chores I felt I had to personally oversee back east, I felt I was due one pleasure: watching her get indicted. She’s now sitting in the can, without bail. Her quack doctor is also behind bars, with people from three states flying in to add to the charges. There’s also a high-powered forensics team all over the plane wreckage, as the red tape tying everything up vanished like a mirage as soon as the DA filed charges against Beth. If she really was behind the sabotage, that will be three murders as well as all the attempts on you. Fletcher Burns sang like a vulture, and Marlo Evans will also testify, having overheard some of those shit-heads bragging about what they expected to be their first hit-for-hire.”

“Where the hell did Beth finds those idiots?” Jameson asked.

“Where else?” Charlie spread his hands. “Off the internet, if you can believe that.”

“At this point I believe anything.”

“The take-away here is, she’s going down hard,” Charlie said with satisfaction.

“I still can’t believe she thought she could get away with it,” Jameson said.

Charlie shrugged. “Well, I’m also having dad’s death looked into. Because I don’t think she was stopping with you. She seems to have thought she could get away with anything, and I’m pretty sure I was next on her hit list. But I’d be harder to pin down than a guy flat on his back in the hospital with no memory.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Jameson said. “How’s Mom holding up?”

“She’s fine. You need to come home to see her, and she’ll be even better.”

Jameson turned to Kesley, who nodded. They’d talked about this. “We’ll be on a plane back east as soon as stuff is finished up here.”

“And then?” Charlie asked.

“And then we’ll do whatever Kesley wants,” Jameson said. “Travel or stay here, until we decide what’s next. I left good people in charge of the Rescue, so it won’t be needing my attention immediately.”

Charlie nodded. “I can’t talk you into moving back home?”

Home is where you are
, Jameson had said to Kesley, his lips whispering against her neck under her ear.

“Right now, I like it here,” Jameson said to Charlie. “This town is my new project.”

Charlie looked around, and made a face. “You’re not going to knock it all down and put up condos?”

“Hell no. Opposite. A little bit of repair work here, a little paint there, and the place will fix itself. After that, I want to take Kesley to New York to visit the Met, then Paris, and then . . . who knows?”

All the possibilities of life spread before Kesley, but right now the greatest joy was the realization that whatever she did, Jameson would be by her side.

She sat with her hands cradling the tea cup as McKenzi flirted outrageously with Charlie, who riposted with funny comments. They ate up the food, had hot apple pie with ice cream, and then the brothers went off to finish up some of their own business.

Kesley walked down to the Flying Cranes to help paint an order. Grandma Zhao greeted her with a quiet, “He is good, your young man. I believe you will have a long and happy life together.”

“I’m so lucky,” Kesley whispered, her eyes stinging.

“I think he is, and the best I know of him is that he believes so, too.”

* * *

Kesley was thinking about that later as she climbed into bed. Charlie had departed for the airport, and Marlo was also gone, taking her clipboard and her lab rat plans with her. Life was returning to normal, or the new normal.

Kesley heard the shower shut off, and a short time later Jameson joined her in bed. He reached for her, and they kissed until she was on fire. As his hands explored every contour of her body, he murmured, “Now what was that list again you were muttering about this morning, before I had to run to the airport? ‘I want you to take me from behind . . .’”

“Oh, that list has gotten longer,” Kesley said. “A
whole
lot longer.”

“Then we’d better get started,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

And they did.

A note from Zoe Chant

Thank you for buying my book! I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like to be emailed when I release my next book, please
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Please click on the title to write a review of
Target: BillionBe
ar. I love hearing what my readers think! It helps me decide what to write next.

Page down to read a special sneak preview of
Hollywood Tiger
.

The cover of
Target: BillionBe
ar was designed by Layla Lawlor.

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Hollywood Tiger

by Zoe Chant

Special Sneak Preview

Ho-ly
shit
.

In all his years of investigative reporting, Dennis O’Keefe had never been part of a sting. Until now. But nobody had told him that it would be boring and irritating by turns, spending a lot of time with an asshole like Jerome Haskell and his muscle, big blond Hank, while pretending to swallow these bozos’ bullshit.

By today he was really hating this job—until the hottest distraction in North America began shimmying her way toward him, hips damn-near humming in the wind.

The room was full of attractive women, and he’d been trying to stave off boredom by looking at every one. He really liked women, all sizes and colors and types. But after that one in the slinky black dress had walked into the bar, the others could have turned into crows and flapped away for all he noticed.

He couldn’t stop watching her. It was like somebody had dug down into his brain and yanked out his oldest wet dreams: she had thick, tightly curly hair the color of chocolate clouding around her face. Her halter top molded a magnificent pair of breasts and the rest of her dress slithered over hips generously curved enough to make a dead man sit up and sing.

And she was shaking those hips. Right. At. Him.

As he tried to swallow past the balloon animal that had suddenly taken up residence in his throat, she gave those incredible hips a double roll and a flick—
badoom!
—that sent fire shooting from his eyeballs down to the boys in his suddenly tight pants.

He sat back in his chair, sucking in a breath to cool off. But she just kept coming, rolling and shimmying until he’d swear smoke was rising off her. Or maybe it was steaming out his ears.

What was she up to?

Hank was still dancing with one of the skinny women partying hearty across the room. Dennis sent a quick look at Haskell, who seemed criminally oblivious to those clashing beads and dancing tassels, as he leaned in to talk at the sour-faced woman Haskell had introduced as just ‘Patrice.’

Was Patrice part of the scam? Or how about the amazing belly dancer? But Dennis hadn’t been asked to do anything about Haskell’s minions, male or female. His job was to play Daniel Moore, a rich dork eager to invest his millions in a major motion picture.

But first he was going to enjoy every moment of the show. Another reason to despise Haskell—didn’t the bastard have enough taste to acknowledge real art when it was gyrating so awesomely right in front of him?

Dennis shifted, glad the table cloth hid his lower half as he tried to ease the tightness growing down south. He watched as the belly dancer kept gallantly dancing and twirling around Haskell. Dennis wished he could say, “Don’t waste your talents on that prick—the only thing he appreciates is dollar signs.” The guy didn’t even seem to be trying all that hard to get traction with Patrice, judging by the way she sat there, her drink untouched, her lips clamped tight.

With a clatter of beads and a mesmerizing swing and sway of those tassels dipping down low in front, the belly dancer circled back around Haskell the other way. Dennis felt his tiger wake up inside him as the tassels brushed gently over her black silk-covered mound. Wow. She was sexier fully clothed than the nearly-naked super-skinny pole dancers that Haskell had insisted on them watching the night previous, when they’d met in East Hollywood for their previous investment meeting.

Dennis sipped his drink, mentally stuffing the tiger back down deep inside. But then he nearly inhaled the ice cubes when she twirled, the skirt flaring, affording a glimpse of curvy, dimpled thighs.

He crossed his legs the other way, trying to keep Willie and the boys from ripping out of his pants like some Marvel comic guy.

The song ended. Just as well. Another minute and he’d be tent-poling the table.

“I gotta see to something, Danny,” Haskell said to Dennis, flashing a lot of dental whitening at him in a big, fake smile. “Have another drink. On me.” He must have seen the annoyance that Dennis was trying to hide because more teeth showed. “Trust me, I’ll make it worth your time. And it won’t take long.”