Bear to the End (Bear Claw Security Book 5) Read online

  “Please do. I’ll be very disappointed if you don’t,” he said with a grin that bared just the slightest flash of his perfect white teeth as he pressed his phone to answer the call and strode to one of the back offices to speak with whomever was on the other end, giving her a short but savory view of his perfect, tight ass in his jeans.

  Suddenly, she was hungry for something other than sandwiches.

  Hoping to distract herself from her own thoughts, she bit into her bacon turkey club and enjoyed the delicious flavors in her mouth, which only partially distracted her from the thrumming in her body at wanting Mark near her again.

  But before she could take another bite, she heard the sound of a door opening, then metal clanging on metal as it swung shut. Immediately, Char looked up to see who it was.

  The center had only two primary entrances. The glass double doors at the front, connected to the street, that made up for the vast majority of any comings and goings during the day. On the other side of the room was a single metal door that led out into the adjoining alley and was mostly only used by employees working late after the main doors were locked.

  But the man walking in just now was definitely no employee of the SWH.

  Without hesitation, the stranger strolled inside, his body swaying slightly as he moved step by step into the place. His hair was brown and thinning, and his face was sullen and intense, his patchy beard only adding more to his disheveled look. The beat-up work jeans and olive windbreaker he wore looked like they hadn’t been washed in some time, and even across the room, she could hear the thump-thump of heavy boots hitting the floor ungracefully.

  Char looked around and saw nobody else nearby and realized she needed to handle this quickly before any clients could come in. Random men off the street were certainly not welcome in a women’s refuge.

  Calmly and professionally, Char stood up and began walking toward the man.

  “Excuse me, sir, can I help you?”

  Instantly, the man’s eyes locked onto her, sending a shiver up her spine as he glared at her undauntedly and walked in her direction.

  “You work here?” he drawled as he came up to her. With each approaching step, the stench of hard alcohol became more and more apparent.

  “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, but if you don’t have an appointment, you need to leave,” she said coolly, straightening where she stood.

  The well-being of the women the center helped and protected meant more to her than anything else in the world right now, and she wasn’t going to let some two-bit drunk off the street jeopardize that.

  “Where’s my wife? I know you have her,” he said accusingly.

  “What do you mean?”

  Ignoring her question completely, the man looked around him, wild-eyed, as if certain the person in question was hiding somewhere inside.

  “Sandy! Where are you?” he yelled, the façade of worry in his words unable to hide the harshness of his tone.

  Instantly, the name rang a bell. Sandy Forester was one of their newer clients and was currently staying at the shelter connected to their offices by an entrance at the back. Her story had been all too similar to many of the women who came in seeking refuge from a marriage or relationship gone wrong.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she told him plainly.

  Instantly, his eyes zeroed back on her again, glaring at her accusingly, as if she were the sole person responsible for all his woes in the world.

  “Don’t give me that. I know she’s in here somewhere. An old buddy of mine told me about this place. How you brainwash women into leaving their loving husbands,” he said, his speech slurred as he paced slowly closer toward her.

  She thought about calling for Mark, but she wasn’t sure if that would set the man off more, and she was still fairly sure she could handle it.

  “I don’t know who this friend is, but he’s mistaken. Now I’m going to ask you again. Please leave the premises or I’ll have to call the authorities,” Charlotte said, standing unwavering despite the man’s height and withering malice toward her.

  Men like this were the reason this place even existed. Selfish, abusive bastards that had no right coming in their doors.

  Again ignoring her, the man looked past Char’s shoulder and eyed the doors at the back.

  “Sandy? Can you hear me? Come out, dammit!” he swore angrily, the veneer of control quickly fading as he moved to go around Char.

  Without hesitation, she moved in front of the man to block his path, and for a moment, he backed off, seemingly surprised at the audacity of the woman in front of him for being so bold to bar his way.

  “You’re not allowed back there. Employees only. Now please leave,” she said more firmly.

  His surprise quickly turned to drunken rage, and Char could see the redness in his eyes grow more intense as he snarled.

  “Now look here. I’m going to take back what’s rightfully mine.”

  “Even if she were here, I wouldn’t let you within a hundred miles of her,” she said, the bear in her growling protectively for the women who looked to them for help in their most desperate moments.

  At that, the man reached behind him and withdrew a knife, the blade at least six or so inches long. It gleamed coldly as he waved it around uncoordinatedly.

  Immediately, Char stepped back two paces to create distance between them, still standing between him and the door to the shelter.

  “I don’t know who taught you you could speak back to a man like that, but both you and they need to be taught a lesson,” he threatened, moving slowly toward her.

  Char felt for her purse, then realized it was back at her desk. She cursed herself mentally for not having it nearby, since both her pepper spray and Taser were inside, and either would be helpful right now.

  Charlotte’s body tensed, ready to spring to action if he moved any closer, eyeing a heavy binder on the desk next to her to use as a makeshift weapon.

  “Hey, over here!” Suddenly, a loud, booming voice filled the entire office.

  Both Char and the man looked in the direction of the noise just in time to see a massive blur collide into the armed drunk.

  Char instantly recognized Mark’s shape as he landed on top of the attacker, who yelped in pain as he slammed into the ground. Then, with shocking speed and ferocity, Mark grabbed the man’s wrist that still had the knife in its hand and pounded it into the floor with a powerful thud that made the ground shake beneath Char’s feet. Immediately, the man shrieked and released the knife, which clattered to the floor several feet from them.

  Char quickly grabbed the knife and backed away, pulling out her phone and dialing 9-1-1. The man continued to cry out in pain from his likely shattered wrist, when Mark crushed his thick, muscled forearm into the front of the man’s throat, cutting off his cries with a stifled cough.

  “If I were you, I’d shut the fuck up,” Mark growled furiously as he pressed his arm harder into the man’s trachea as he leaned over him. “The only thing keeping you alive right now is the fact that I don’t want to subject any of the women in this place to the view of your mangled, bloodied, dead-ass corpse. Don’t make me change my mind.” His eyes burned with rage as the man gasped feebly and writhed beneath his hulking, muscled body that looked ready to tear the man in half with his bare hands.

  As Mark held him down with extreme prejudice, Char quickly spoke with the dispatcher, and a minute later, two police cars pulled up to the center. In no time at all, the man was cuffed and taken away, and the police took statements from her and Mark.

  By the time they were done, Char felt like she’d run a marathon, the adrenaline having spent all her already-waning energy.

  “Come on,” Mark said, putting an arm around her. “I’ll take you home.”

  Five

  Char could still feel her heart pounding as Mark led her out and helped her into his truck.

  She’d stayed calm throughout the encounter, at least outwardly, because she had
to. But now that she was safe, she allowed herself to feel the sheer panic she couldn’t feel during the confrontation.

  “You okay?” Mark asked. His voice was tight, his face drawn and pissed. She didn’t like being around male anger, but Mark had taken care of her, made sure nothing happened to her or anyone else at the shelter.

  She’d seen pure fury in his face as he’d held down the other man, and she knew, despite the violence in his expression, this was very different than the male violence she’d experienced before. This was a man protecting others, angry with another man for being violent.

  Still, she’d been surprised by the strength of his reaction. It had almost seemed personal. Like it was worse because she was the one in danger. Sometimes the way he looked at her made her feel like the only person in the room.

  But perhaps that was just his job as a bodyguard. He was hired to protect her, and that’s what he was doing.

  “I’m sorry I took that phone call,” he said, jaw clenched tight. “I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off you for a minute.”

  She shrugged, still feeling lightheaded. “I thought it would be fine.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  She shook her head. “No. Most men who hurt their wives want to wait until she’s alone again to try and come after her. Most of them are cowards.” She heard the bitterness in her voice, the sting of tears in her eyes, and swiped at them. She hadn’t felt that afraid in a long time. She hadn’t allowed herself to realize she was afraid when the other women had been in danger.

  But now she was angry because it brought back all those feelings of fear and helplessness and just being a woman and feeling like a man could do anything to you.

  And it was far worse when it was a man she’d loved.

  He was quiet for most of the ride, looking over at her in concern every time they hit a light or a stop. He seemed acutely aware of her pain, but not sure what to do about it. He didn’t seem like the type that had been with a lot of women.

  They parked on the street in front of her place, and she just sat there, staring ahead. Her legs felt too much like jelly to go anywhere, at least not yet.

  He looked over at her. “I can tell this really affected you.”

  She swiped at another phantom tear before it could fall. She’d learned early on not to show tears or weakness. It only egged them on. “Yeah. Just brings some things back.”

  He reached out then, startling her, but his touch was soft as he gently moved hair back from her face. His thumb lightly grazed her ear. She looked up at him, gaping at how one male touch could feel so terrible and another could warm her right down to her soul. She started to lean into his touch, but then she saw him reach down and unbuckle his seatbelt and then hers.

  Then he pulled her into his arms.

  And that’s when the tears came. Thick and wet and loud, as if she’d never allowed herself to cry before. She let herself think of Clay, of how terrified he’d made her during so many standoffs, of how afraid she still was when she thought of him. Of how he’d changed her life, added fear where there wasn’t any, and made it hard to trust anyone.

  Even though it was easier than she would have thought with someone like Mark.

  “It’s okay to cry,” he said soothingly, running a hand lightly over her back. His hands were wrapped gently around her, nothing inappropriate, just a warm, protective barrier shielding her from the world.

  She didn’t know how she would get along without him once the job was over.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just being in that position, feeling so weak again, feeling fear freeze me up… I feel so worthless. He made me feel worthless,” she choked out. “I swear I used to feel stronger. But when you’ve been overpowered so many times…”

  He growled low in his chest and held her closer for a moment. She could hear his heart beating just as hard as hers. Then she pulled back to look into his eyes. The blue there was uncharacteristically dark.

  “You aren’t worthless. You’re beautiful and strong and the best woman I know.”

  She choked out a laugh. “You don’t seem like you know a lot of women.”

  “I actually know quite a few good ones. But for me, you’re head and shoulders above them all. Though I’m sure my co-workers would say the same about their mates.”

  Her mouth dropped. “Mates?”

  He bit his lip. “I just mean the only women I know are my co-worker’s mates, to be honest. That’s all.”

  She sighed in relief. “Yeah, I guess they would say that, then.”

  He cupped the back of her head with one big, warm hand. “Yeah. But seriously, don’t ever feel worthless. If you do, just tell me and I’ll tell you how gorgeous and special you are.”

  She looked up at him warily. “Those don’t really sound like the words of a bodyguard.”

  He pulled back from her and sat up, his blond hair mussed, his posture rigid. He shot a sideways look at her once, then twice, and then sighed and put his hands through his hair. “Here’s the thing… I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t say this.”

  “What?” she asked, feeling a tingle of anticipation.

  “I just… From the moment I met you, I haven’t really been looking at you like a bodyguard. I mean, don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. If you want, I’ll be one hundred percent professional all the time. But yeah… I guess I have kind of a crush on you…?”

  His handsome, carved face looked almost boyish. She was a woman in her thirties, and this gorgeous, protective man had a crush on her?

  It was too sweet to be offended by, even if she was his client.

  “I… That’s sweet of you,” she said, putting a hand over her chest and wondering how she really felt about it. When she thought about it, about being with him, something about it felt really right.

  Especially after he’d protected her and shown himself to be a good man.

  “Sweet?” He scoffed. “Sweet isn’t exactly how I want to be thought of, but I’ll take it. How do you feel?”

  She squirmed in her chair and looked out the window, realizing that during this conversation, a lot of her stress had left her body and her nerves were tingling from another reason. “I… don’t know what you mean.”

  He gently guided her face to look at him, and she felt blood rush into her cheeks. She loved his touch, so tender, so soft and comforting and warm. She loved looking at him but feared every time she did, she came a little bit closer to losing control.

  “Yes?” she asked innocently.

  “I think you might have a little crush on me, too,” he teased.

  She tried to scoff and turn away, but he gently caught her shoulders and turned her back.

  “If you tell me you don’t, I won’t ever bring it up again. I just feel such a connection with you. I might have imagined I saw something I didn’t. I know I scare you sometimes, but…”

  “You don’t scare me,” she said.

  “But this morning in the kitchen…”

  She snorted. “No, you scare me because sometimes when you touch me, I feel like the animal inside me is going to break loose and ravish you. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that. You know, the emotional part.”

  “But physically you like me?” His boyish lips curved into a one-sided grin.

  She felt her cheeks heat more. “Of course I do.” She folded her arms and turned away, and this time he let her. “You know I do,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  She heard a chuckle and cursed at her own transparency. She wanted him. Now that she knew where he stood and she’d told him of her own attraction, she could feel her body tingling, ready for him.

  Despite the danger of the day, despite the danger to her heart if she fell in love and got hurt again, for the first time in three years, intimacy seemed not only good, but nearly irresistible.

  “For now, let’s get you inside,” he said as a crack of thunder sounded. “Looks like it’s going to rain, and you can go take a
nap while I update my boss and make dinner.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  He walked to her side of the car, opened the door, and helped her stand. When she wobbled slightly, he caught her up in his arms and easily carried her up the stairs to her apartment, only setting her down when they reached the door.

  She was amazed by how light and protected she felt in his arms. Damn, how was she ever going to get used to living without this man now that she’d experienced living with him?

  Hiring a bodyguard at Bear Claw Security was definitely dangerous.

  Six

  Mark wanted to gather Char back up in his arms the moment he set her down. Her body had felt wonderful, and with her encapsulated against him, he’d felt like he could keep her safe from anything in the world.

  His bear was still roaring in agony that anyone had come even close to threatening his mate while he’d been away. Luckily, he’d been there in time, but he wouldn’t be lulled into false security again. He’d be by her side every second.

  Mating her would probably mean quitting Bear Claw and working at the shelter with her, but that was okay as long as they were together. He was kind of surprised how the right woman could make everything you saw for your life different, but it was a pleasant surprise.

  He was also happy he’d been able to tell her at least one bit of truth, that he was into her. Even if calling his feelings for her a crush was like calling a volcano a matchstick.

  “What are you feeling for dinner?” he asked.

  “Honestly, I’d like one of the frozen pizzas in the freezer, if that’s okay with you.” She fidgeted. “I’d kind of prefer if no one else came by today. Strangers, I mean.”

  He nodded. That made a lot of sense. He pulled open two of the pizza boxes, found her pans, and got things cooking. She was still quiet in a way that worried him.

  He caught her looking over at him in odd moments, like she didn’t know what to make of him.