Bear Witness

by Scarlett Grove

  “I know. I’m scared to death. I guess I can stay in a hotel.”

  “No,” he almost growled at her. Her eyes grew wide. “You should stay here. I can protect you better here.”

  “I can’t impose.”

  “It’s not an imposition. What matters is that you’re safe.”

  “Okay,” she said meekly. She didn’t understand why he was being so protective and so nice to her. Wyatt was a good guy, but he was really going above and beyond for a woman he barely knew.

  After breakfast, he gave her a stack of clothes, and she went off to the bathroom to take a shower. As the warm water slid over her sore body, the thought of Wyatt made her tingle all over.

  When she got out, she dried her hair and put the clean clothes on—jeans and a black T-shirt. She still only had flip flops and no bra, but it was better than wearing dirty clothes.

  When she came downstairs, she saw Wyatt outside on the front porch and went out to meet him.

  “You left your paints in my truck last night. I put them on the porch swing. You can paint while I go up to the campsite.”

  “I can come.”

  “You should stay. Relax. I don’t want you to be traumatized by going back to the scene.”

  “Okay,” she conceded. She didn’t really want to go up there anyway. Just the thought of it made her nervous and jittery.

  “I’ll be back in less than an hour. If you need anything for any reason, I’ve left a walkie-talkie on the kitchen counter. It will go straight to me.”

  He leaned forward as if he was going to kiss her. Candice sucked in a breath, waiting for his lips to touch hers, but he pulled back at the last moment.

  “I’ll be back soon. Make yourself at home.”

  She let out the breath, disappointed, and watched his ass in his tight, black jeans as he walked away. Candice sighed as he drove off in his truck. She was afraid to be alone, but something about Wyatt’s home made her feel safe.

  She picked up her paint box and carried it around to the back porch. A patio set faced the expansive view of the wilderness that stretched out for miles before her. His property sloped down toward a forested valley. On the other side, mountains rose, covered in dense, green trees and jagged ridges.

  It was a sight to behold, and Candice instantly wanted to paint it. She sat down with her paints and began to sketch out the view before setting up her watercolor pallet. A few moments later, she was deep into her painting, daydreaming about what it would be like to see this view every day.

  Chapter Eight

  Wyatt drove slowly through town, watching a line of protesters march down the street. If they’d been protesting the new dam proposal or the use of clearcutting by the logging companies, he might be behind them. But these protesters were outraged about something he could never support.

  They were shifter haters.

  They carried signs saying that shifters should be run out of town. That the recent murder had been justified. That shifters were an abomination and were the spawn of the devil and other such nonsense.

  Wyatt cringed as he read the horrible slogans. How could people be so ignorant about other living beings? The majority of shifters weren’t much different from ordinary people in their human forms. In almost every way, they were just as human as anyone else. They deserved the same rights and considerations as any other human.

  Except shifters weren’t human. Not technically. They had an animal inside them that always wanted to come out. Some shifters were better at controlling their animal than others. Some spent most of their lives in animal form.

  Shifters like Wyatt held down normal human jobs and had normal human lives, blending in with their surroundings without the least suspicion. Men like Colin Chase were the same way. He’d run a small business in town for a long time. Until shifters came out, no one would have looked twice at him.

  The protesters moved out into the road and began to block traffic. Damn. Wyatt growled. Now he would have to deal with these people. Not something he wanted to have to do. But they couldn’t be in the road, blocking traffic.

  Hate groups had the same rights as any other protesters under the law, but they had to follow the rules like everyone else. Wyatt parked the truck and got out, sauntering over to the screaming crowd of bigots.

  “Y’all are going to have to move back onto the sidewalk. Obstructing traffic is not permitted.”

  “Keep shifters out of our town!” one woman screamed, moving out into the street even farther. She brandished a sign at a passing car of tourists. Wyatt sighed and moved in front of the crowd, waving them back to the sidewalk.

  “You can’t support these…things?” a man said. “They take our jobs and taint our women.”

  “Far as I know, they’re just regular people. But that’s not my concern today. You have to stay on the sidewalk, or I’m going to have to take you down to the jailhouse. That’s something neither of us wants.”

  “Aren’t you a game warden?” another man asked.

  “I should be out checking hunting tags. Not doing crowd control. Stay on the sidewalk, or we’ll have arrests here. Understood?”

  “Fine.” The protesters all grumbled in compliance. As Wyatt walked away, he made a call to the sheriff’s department to report the issue.

  “We’re on it, Wyatt,” Janis, the daytime dispatcher, said over the walkie-talkie. This was not Wyatt’s week. He’d become a warden so he could spend more time in the woods, protecting the land he called his home. Not doing murder investigations and wrangling crowds of angry protesters.

  On his way up the mountain, he thought of Candice. She was the one good thing to come out of all this. He wished they’d met under better circumstances. It wasn’t every day that a shifter found his mate. Candice had just dropped into his life from out of nowhere, and she happened to be a witness in the first murder investigation to ever happen in this town.

  When he came to the Forest Service Road that led to the wilderness campsite, he opened the gate and drove through. Thinking of Candice running all the way down this road at night, scared and alone, filled him with rage. Whoever had done this would pay for hurting her.

  He parked his truck beside the wilderness campsite and walked through the dense foliage between the service road and the camp. When he came out into the clearing, his heart sank. Candice’s entire campsite had been destroyed. Her tent had been ripped up and scattered about. Her food and camping gear were ruined.

  He searched for her bags, her purse, her wallet, and found nothing. He couldn’t even find her car keys. Poor Candice. He’d have to go back to her empty-handed, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Focusing on the other reason he’d come up here, he began to inspect the camp. Sniffing the air, he smelled a faint scent of the men he’d smelled before at the murder scene. Too bad he couldn’t place either scent, though they seemed familiar.

  He used his heightened senses to track their steps. They’d chased Candice to the road and then had come back to the site to tear it apart. He followed their footprints and then looked down to find one perfectly preserved in the damp soil. He bent down and inspected the print, pulled out his cell, and snapped a picture.

  He recognized the sole, but wasn’t sure from where. After he took a few pictures of the print, he snapped some of the destroyed campsite. When he was done gathering as much information as he could, he pulled all the garbage together and threw it in the back of his truck.

  Nothing was useable anymore, but he wanted to get it off the grounds and cleaned up for the next hiker. It would save his park service buddies the trek up here to do the same thing. Plus, Candice might still be able to find some use out of something.

  As he drove back home, he dialed the channel of his walkie-talkie at home, hoping she would pick up. He wanted to check on her and make sure everything was all right back at home.

  “Candice, Candice, this is Wyatt. Pick up the walkie-talkie.” He repeated the same thing a few times until he heard a tentat
ive, “Hello,” coming from the other side.

  Chapter Nine

  Candice heard a voice coming from inside the house and quickly padded to the kitchen where Wyatt had left the walkie-talkie. Sure enough, he was calling her. A hot thrill went through her as she grasped the device and answered. Hearing his deep voice on the other side excited her more than it should have.

  “Hello?” she breathed.

  “I’ve got bad news, darlin’,” he said.

  With the word ‘darling,’ Candice shuddered with excitement. Damn, Wyatt was sexy. She bit her lip and answered. “What could be worse than being run off my campsite in the middle of the night?”

  “They’ve taken all your valuables and destroyed the rest. Sorry to have to tell you this.”

  “Well, great. Did they at least leave my car keys and my wallet?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “So, basically, I’m broke and stranded.”

  “I’ll be back there in fifteen minutes. We can figure out what to do then.”

  “All right,” she said with a sigh. This was not her idea of a good time, even if Wyatt was taking care of everything. Being stranded like this made her feel more vulnerable than she’d felt since her parents died and she had to go live with her aunt and uncle in Seattle.

  Candice put her painting things away and waited for Wyatt to return. When he got there, she was sitting at the kitchen table with her painting drying beside her.

  “Did you do that today?” he asked, staring down at the scene of the view from his back porch.

  “I did. I love the view from here. I could paint it for the rest of my life,” she said. She blushed, realizing what she’d just implied.

  “I’d like that.” He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “You’re a good painter.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered, confused. Wyatt gave her the impression that he was interested, but then he just shied away. She wished she could read him better.

  “There are a lot of shops in town you might be able to replace your clothing at.”

  “I’m not sure how. I don’t have any money or ID to go to the bank.”

  “It’s not a problem. I can cover it.”

  “I couldn’t,” she gasped, already feeling bad for staying in his house.

  “I insist. Let’s go. I have a few things to do at the station while you’re shopping.”

  It seemed like all he wanted to do was take care of her in every possible way. As much as Candice wanted to read romantic motives into his behavior, she had to remind herself that Wyatt was just that kind of guy. He was helping a stranded lady who was a witness to a murder. He’d do it for anyone, maybe even another man. Guys like Wyatt were a rare breed, but that didn’t mean he wanted her.

  They drove into town and stopped in front of the shops along Main Street. All along the street, hanging baskets with fragrant flowers hung under the red awnings that shaded the shop windows from the bright mountain sun. It made her feel like she’d stepped back in time to when everything was simple and beautiful.

  They went into the first store, and Wyatt immediately pulled out his credit card and handed it to her. She watched him turn to the door, his face bright red.

  “I’ll meet you later at Hank’s Outdoor Supply,” he said. Candice wasn’t sure why he’d reacted that way until she turned around and inspected the store for the first time. It was wall-to-wall lingerie. Lacy, pink bras and black, silky panties as far as the eye could see. Candice giggled to herself as the saleswoman came to ask if she needed any help.

  “I need everything,” Candice said with a sigh. The sales woman smiled and took her to the sexiest section of lingerie in the whole store.

  “If I had a man like Wyatt McCloud, I’d wear something like this.” The woman held up a hot pink, corseted negligee with black lace at the hem and at the bra line. Black laces tied up the front, making it look like sex in satin and spandex.

  Candice imagined wearing it for Wyatt and the look in his eyes when he saw her. She flushed from her head to her toes, not bothering to correct the sales woman about the nature of hers and Wyatt’s relationship. She knew she should, but she was too far gone in the fantasy to bother.

  “I’ll take it,” she said breathlessly. “And I’ll need some practical things, too. I lost absolutely everything.”

  The woman smiled and led her through the store, finding her the kinds of things she usually wore in the perfect fit. At the end, Candice had a whole new lingerie wardrobe. She felt a little bad about putting it all on Wyatt’s credit card, but swore to herself that she’d pay him back as soon as she got her credit cards back.

  She went on to the next shop and bought herself a few pretty dresses and sexy shoes to go with the new, white-hot lingerie. She wanted to wear them for Wyatt. Her fantasy became more and more detailed the longer she shopped, making her feel naughty and brazen in a tantalizingly exciting way.

  After that, she went to the outdoor store at the end of the street where she was supposed to meet Wyatt. After a few hours of shopping, she already missed him and looked forward to seeing him again. Plus, she did need some practical things for being in the country.

  Inside, she found everything to replace her outdoor wardrobe. While she was trying on a pair of hiking boots, Wyatt came walking down the aisle like a vision out of a cowboy movie.

  Chapter Ten

  After going to the sheriff’s department to report what had happened at the campsite, question the kid from the night before, and to submit the pictures, he drove back to meet up with Candice.

  The investigation had officially moved from hunting accident to homicide with the new information. Wardens typically investigated hunting homicides in Montana, and the sheriff insisted this was no different.

  Wyatt parked in front of the chain outdoor store and went inside. He’d suggested this store because he knew Candice liked camping and the outdoors. Plus, the big, box chain store was the main competition for Colin Chase’s mom-and-pop shop.

  He found Candice struggling to pull on a pair of hiking boots. When he saw her, he rushed to her side, knelt down and helped her push the boot onto her foot. She blushed as she looked down at him. The thrill of holding her leg in his hand was almost too much, and he had to let her go.

  “How’s that?” he asked with a thick voice.

  “It’s good.”

  She strutted down the aisle, testing the shoes as she went. He watched her curves sway as she walked. His mate was one heck of a sexy lady. Everything about her screamed sex. He could barely contain himself as he watched her pivot on her heel and walk back toward him. He was going to have to get it under control if he wanted to finish this investigation.

  He stood, looking away from Candice to get himself under control. He wandered down the shoe aisle, absently looking at the men’s hiking boots. He picked up a few pairs and looked at their soles. When he checked the store brand, he narrowed his eyes. The sole was a perfect match for the shoeprint he’d found at Candice’s campsite.

  Just then, the protesters from the street filed into the store, chanting their anti-shifter slogans. Wyatt turned, ready to do crowd control, when the owner of the store, Reginald Lawson, came out from behind a counter and welcomed them with open arms.

  Wyatt watched as potbellied, balding Reginald led the protesters to the back of the store and into a private room. Wyatt followed and was stopped at the door by a gruff clerk with a full mustache and tattoos on his muscled forearms. He knew the clerk as a man named Joe Patterson, who liked to fish without a license down at the river.

  “This is a private meeting,” Joe said.

  “I don’t need a warrant to do a search.”

  “There’s no reason to search a rally meeting for illegally hunted game, McCloud.”

  “Watch your tone, or I will be conducting a search at your house, Patterson. I’m with my friend here, so I’ll let you all have your hate meeting in private. This time…”

  Candice walked up to the counter with
her things and plopped them down, looking confused.

  “Find everything you need, ma’am?” Joe asked.

  “I did. Is there a problem?” Candice asked innocently, looking back and forth at the men.

  “Not at all. Joe here was just telling me how he was going to give you a twenty percent discount,” Wyatt said to the clerk. “Weren’t you?”

  “Sure. Fine. We’re having a sale.”

  Joe began scanning her purchases as he glared at Wyatt. The door to the meeting opened, and Wyatt was able to make out what they were talking about with his heightened senses. From what he could hear, it was standard shifter hate rhetoric.

  Shifters shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with humans. They should be barred from marriage with humans. They shouldn’t be allowed to own businesses or hold jobs. They should be put in camps.

  The whole thing left a disgusted pit in Wyatt’s stomach. When the shifters had decided to come out to the public, they hadn't anticipated this kind of backlash. They'd just wanted to come out of hiding. But Wyatt and shifters like him had expected a negative reaction from the humans.

  Humans could be exceptionally bigoted toward their own kind, let alone toward what they thought were mythological creatures. Shifters were bigger, stronger, they had heightened senses humans couldn't even comprehend. Of course humans were suspicious and angry. But even Wyatt hadn't expected them to resort to murder.

  “What was that all about?” Candice asked as they walked out of the store and climbed into the truck.

  “Shifter haters,” he grumbled.

  “Isn't it crazy that there are shape shifters living among us?” she asked him, her voice tinged with fear. “Do you think those protesters had anything to do with the shooting?”

  “Could be,” he said, a lump in this throat. Candice's reaction wasn't what he'd hoped. Could she hate shifters, too? He pushed the thought aside. He couldn't think about his mate hating him. After the investigation, he'd come clean and deal with the consequences. Until then, he couldn't reveal his feelings or his identity to the woman that made his bear more aroused and more contented than he'd ever been in his life.