"…if you need stitches, don't let them shave your entire head. You've really got nice hair, and it would be a shame if you had to wait until it grew out again," Evan was saying with one of his trademark charming smiles as he cradled both of Caitlyn's hands in his blue-gloved ones.
Mark knew that Evan was only taking her pulse, but he didn't like it that his brother was doing so with the same expression he wore when he was on a Saturday night prowl for a woman.
He wasn't sure if Evan's flirtatiousness was genuine or whether he was just trying to put his pretty patient at ease while they waited for the ambulance to arrive.
All of them were trained to make small talk with patients. It helped keep everyone calm and allowed the first responders to assess whether a patient was conscious and capable of communicating clearly.
But Evan's definitely crossing the line with that cheesy smile, Mark thought, with a surge of weirdly possessive jealousy.
It didn't matter if Evan was flirting for real or not. Mark's bear didn't like it one bit.
What on earth is happening to me? Mark wondered. How could he possibly be jealous because of a woman—a patient, he reminded himself—whom he'd met less than a half-hour ago?
His bear was normally pretty laid-back, and Mark was not the type to lose control and shift at the drop of a hat.
But he'd been on edge since he'd first crawled inside that car. His skin was currently prickling with the desire to shift into his bear shape.
This just isn't normal.
He needed to get away from his brother and their patient for a few moments to re-center himself.
He needed to figure out what the hell was going on with his bear tonight.
And he really needed to overcome the temptation to punch his little brother in the face for smiling at Caitlyn like that.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two sets of flashing blue-and-red lights, one from the ambulance and the other from the sheriff's car, approaching in the distance.
"Caitlyn, did you have a purse?" Mark asked. "Do you want me to go back down to the car and look for it?"
"Oh, yes, please!" she said, looking away from Evan to meet Mark's gaze.
Her eyes caught the lantern light. They were a lovely shade of blue, he thought.
"All right, I'll be back in a couple of minutes," he promised. "I'll see if I can find your registration and proof of insurance too, while I'm at it."
"That would be great! They're in the glove box. Thank you so much." Her voice was warm with genuine gratitude, and it helped soothe his bear.
Mark quickly located the registration and insurance documents in the car's glove compartment. The purse proved harder to find—it had evidently been ejected from one of the car's shattered windows on the way down the embankment.
And if she had anything in the trunk, like a suitcase, it was going to have to wait until the tow truck came and righted the wrecked car.
After sweeping the area with his flashlight, Mark finally spotted a large gray messenger bag halfway up the embankment. When he picked it up, he felt the square shape of a notebook computer inside and hoped that the bag's padding had proved equal to the force of the accident.
By the time he returned to the van with his prizes, he found the ambulance was now parked on the shoulder, and the EMTs, both female, had transferred Caitlyn, still securely strapped to the backboard, to an ambulance cot.
Sheriff Bill Jacobsen was there too, bending over Caitlyn, presumably to take her statement.
He was a tall, lean man in his late forties, his close-cropped blond hair turning to silver at the temples. A wolf shifter like all the members of the Jacobsen clan, Bill had been working for the Bearpaw Ridge Police Department for twenty years, and he was well-versed in handling shifters in both their human and animal forms.
Bill's three nephews clustered nervously around their uncle, interjecting details of what they'd witnessed.
All of them carefully avoided any mention of the fact that the boys had been hunting in wolf-shape at the time of the accident.
When Bill was done taking Caitlyn's statement, he straightened up and sighed. "I'll get Mike Robinson and his tow truck out here later this morning for your car. Once it's light, I'll take photos for the report, and then Mike will tow your car to his auto repair shop until you have a chance to contact your insurance company."
"Are you done with her, sir? Can we take her to the hospital now?" asked one of the ambulance medics, a woman in her twenties, with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail.
"Which hospital? Where are we going?" Caitlyn asked.
Mark smelled fear, and his bear stirred uneasily.
On impulse, he stepped forward into her line of sight. "They're taking you to Steele Memorial Medical Center in Salmon. Would you like me to ride there with you?"
Caitlyn's mouth tugged upwards into a shy smile. The scent of her fear dissipated. "Would you mind? I'd really appreciate it."
"Of course I don't mind," he said warmly.
He quickly stripped out of his heavy jacket and bunkers, leaving him clad in his uniform pants and fire department T-shirt.
"Here," Mark said, holding his turnout gear out to Evan, who was looking at him with a very odd expression. "Would you mind taking these back to the station for me?"
Chapter Three – Revelations
The surge of relief Caitlyn felt when the big, bearded fireman offered to ride in the ambulance with her took her by surprise.
She had been terrified nearly out of her mind when she found herself trapped upside-down in the darkness, with no idea where she was and no way to escape her battered car.
The boys who had found her and stayed with her until the firefighters came had helped her fight back the waves of panic that were rising higher and higher, threatening to drown her.
But it wasn't until Mark arrived on the scene that she had been able to master her terror.
When he had reached into the car and taken her hand, the fear had suddenly vanished, replaced by the surety that everything was going to be all right now.
Completely immobilized and swathed in straps and braces, Caitlyn felt like an Egyptian mummy. And she was pretty sure that she looked like one too.
Mark, on the other hand, looked just fine. Better than fine, actually.
How about hotter than hell?
All the first responders she'd met tonight had been good-looking in varying degrees, but Mark…holy hell, he was the hunkiest guy she'd ever seen, and firefighters in general tended to be a fairly hunky bunch.
Caitlyn felt like fanning herself as she was loaded into the back of the ambulance. Mark waited for the two EMTs to get in, then climbed in to squeeze in next to them on the padded bench that ran the length of the ambulance.
He was tall, with short, wavy dark hair, hazel eyes, and a strong jawline under a short, neatly trimmed dark beard. He had a really sweet smile and a deep, pleasant voice. Shoulders that looked a mile wide, and when he'd removed the fireman's coat, his navy-blue T-shirt revealed big arms with bulging biceps and forearms corded with taut muscle.
And those big hands had a surprisingly gentle touch. She had felt a pleasant shiver every time he had touched her, even with gloves on.
And he's single.
Something was niggling at her, though.
Mark's last name was Swanson…she had seen it stenciled on the back of his fireman's coat earlier. Where had she heard that name before?
And he had a brother named Dane…Dane Swanson. Hadn't Roger Pemberton's letter mentioned that he'd been attacked by someone in Bearpaw Ridge named Dane Swanson, who had supposedly turned into a bear while doing so?
"So tell me, Mark…are you really a lawyer?" she said, as the ambulance began to drive.
"I am," he replied solemnly, but she saw his smile. "Gotta pay the bills, somehow. Being a volunteer firefighter doesn't pay all that well."
Out of the corner of her eye, Caitlyn saw the pony-tailed EMT grin. "You're a lawyer? Well, this is a ne
w twist on 'ambulance chasing,' I gotta say."
This time Mark laughed, and the two EMTs laughed too.
And Caitlyn finally made the connection.
"Wait," she said, when the chuckles had died away. "Did you happen to send the Mythtrust News a cease-and-desist letter recently? About the haunting at the Bearpaw Springs Resort?"
Mark looked taken aback.
The older EMT, a woman with brassy blond hair in a tight French braid said, "It's haunted? Cool! Maybe I can finally get my husband to take me there for our anniversary."
"How do you know about that?" Mark said. He had stopped smiling.
"I'm the lead investigative reporter—" the only investigative reporter, actually "—for the site."
"No shit?" said Mark, looking startled now. Then his smile returned. He shook his head ruefully. "Sheesh. I send Jake Zimmerman one lousy cease-and-desist letter…and he sics an investigative reporter on me in return."
Caitlyn's eyes widened at the confirmation of his identity. What are the chances that Mark Swanson turns out to be almost the first person I meet in Bearpaw Ridge?
The young EMT, who had bent over the gurney to check Caitlyn's vital signs yet again, laughed.
And Caitlyn began to see the humor in her situation. "Well, you've got me exactly where you want me, right? I can't get away, not like this."
Mark eyed her. "I'd have to get rid of the witnesses first," he said, with mock ominousness.
The older EMT shook her head. "Why are the cute ones always smartasses?" she asked the air.
"So what brings you to Bearpaw Ridge?" Mark asked.
Caitlyn debated how much to tell him. Mindful of Jake's stern injunction about keeping the existence of the video a secret, she said only, "I was sent here to investigate a story lead that someone sent in."
"What kind of story? Another haunting? UFOs?" the younger EMT asked eagerly.
Caitlyn saw the looks that both Mark and the other EMT exchanged.
"Hey, I'm a big fan of Mythtrust News," said the younger EMT. "There's a lot of weird stuff in this world."
"Not UFOs," confided Caitlyn. "Something way more interesting. Have you ever heard about someone turning into a grizzly bear?"
Mark's friendly expression froze.
Oh, great, now he thinks I'm a nutjob, thought Caitlyn.
"Seriously?" Mark asked finally. His voice sounded strained.
"I've heard about some pretty strange things happening around here," volunteered the older EMT. "But were-bears…no way!" She laughed.
"Someone told you about people who turn into bears?" Mark asked. "And you took it seriously?"
Caitlyn tried to shrug and found that the straps prevented her. "I'm always willing to debunk a story if turns out to be complete bullshit."
And unlike Jake, she didn't believe in the paranormal, so "skeptic" was her default starting position on any tip or report that came in.
"Well, that's good," muttered Mark.
She noticed his fists were clenched, as if he were upset about something. Her reporter's instincts tingled.
"Hey, do you know a guy named Roger Pemberton?" she asked.
* * *
Roger Pemberton? Oh, shit. Mark couldn’t believe his bad luck.
Not only was Caitlyn an investigative reporter—albeit one for a fringe website—but she'd been sent here to follow up on that asshole Roger's claims.
Claims that none of them thought would ever be believed in the wake of Roger's monstrous acts last spring.
Time to do some serious spin control, Mark thought grimly.
He hated to have to lie, but Roger's story, if it was ever taken seriously, could endanger everyone in Bearpaw Ridge and beyond.
There were shifter communities scattered all over the world, and all of them relied on tales of shapeshifters remaining only that—fairy tales. Legends. Myths.
"Roger Pemberton," he growled. "You mean that crazy asshole who tried to burn my sister-in-law alive?"
Caitlyn exhaled a long breath. Immobilized as she was, her body language still radiated embarrassment. "Look, personally, I don't think that his claims are credible, but still, it's an interesting story…I skimmed through the trial transcript before I left Albuquerque, and there's some really juicy stuff there. Stalking, arson, attempted murder…that'll keep site visitors reading all the way through the article."
Mark knew he should be relieved that Caitlyn wasn’t hell-bent on proving the existence of shifters. But he was very fond of Dane's wife Annabeth, and the idea that her ordeal might be used to entertain the same people who believed in UFOs and Bigfoot repelled him.
"So the Dane Swanson in Pemberton's story is your brother? The same guy I met just now?" Caitlyn asked. "Do you think he'd mind if I interviewed him?"
Looking at Caitlyn's suddenly lively expression, even encased as she was in straps and padding, Mark knew that he was in deep trouble.
"Maybe later," he growled. "First, we need to make sure you're not seriously injured."
* * *
Much later, at the hospital in Salmon, Mark came to a disturbing realization as he waited for the ER staff to finish taking X-rays of Caitlyn's neck, spine, and ankle.
Even after sitting here in the waiting room for several hours, reading on his phone, he just couldn't seem to center himself.
His heart was pounding, and he felt shaky, as if he'd just downed a dozen espresso shots—or as if he'd just received a call in the middle of the night to go to a major structural fire.
What the hell is going on? He wondered if he was suddenly having panic attacks for no reason.
His inner bear stirred. Our mate is injured, and we're not with her, it announced. We must go to her.
Mark's pulse pounded even more frantically as he realized what his reaction to Caitlyn meant.
The only time he had felt anything close to calm tonight was when he had been in her presence, either in the wrecked car or on the ambulance ride to the hospital.
There has to be some mistake, he protested.
Our mate is injured and defenseless. Go to her now! his bear demanded.
She's not our mate—we only just met her! Mark argued. And she's perfectly safe here—it's a hospital, and they can take better care of her than I can.
Go to her. His bear's silent voice was implacable.
A prickling sensation like pins and needles rolled over Mark's skin, and he realized that he was being blackmailed with the threat of an involuntary shift.
He couldn't decide whether he was enraged or terrified.
This is stupid, he told himself. But I do need to keep an eye on her if she's really here to investigate Roger's story.
Mark rose from his chair, resentful and a little embarrassed, and made his way over to the curtained cubicle where Caitlyn had been taken after being unloaded from the ambulance. The astringent scents of disinfectant and rubbing alcohol were overlaid with older, faded scents of blood, infection, and worse things.
"Can I help you?" asked one of the ER nurses, whose nameplate read "Chang."
He was a young Asian man, tall and slender, with an air of brisk authority. Mark recognized him from previous visits to the hospital and knew that he was a member of a snow leopard clan that had recently settled in the county.
After a moment, he recalled that Chang's first name was Raymond.
Raymond looked Mark up and down, and Mark saw the nurse's body language soften as he recognized Mark in return, both as a first responder and as a fellow shifter.
"Raymond, I'm looking for Caitlyn Morgan. I rode with her in the ambulance," Mark explained.
Raymond's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Friend of yours?"
"Sort of," Mark said uncomfortably. "I'm just worried about her."
"You know I can't give you any details," Raymond said briskly. Then his voice dropped to a bare whisper that only another shifter could have overheard. "But the radiologist just finished looking at her X-rays, and Dr. Jacobi says that Ms. Morgan can be discha
rged shortly."
Relief flooded through Mark, and his bear finally settled down. The sensation of an impending shift faded mercifully away.
"Thank you," he whispered back and received a knowing smile in return.
"Let me peek in and see if she's comfortable with a visitor." Raymond disappeared behind the curtains of a nearby cubicle.
Mark eavesdropped shamelessly. He overheard Raymond say with amusement, "Already dressed? Why, a person might think that you didn't like us."
"No offense," Caitlyn said, and Mark could hear the smile in her voice. "But it's been a very long day…and night."
"There's someone here to see you—the paramedic who arrived with you."
"Oh, no!" Mark heard Caitlyn exclaim with dismay. "He's been waiting here this whole time? It's been hours!"
"So that's a yes, you wouldn't mind a visitor?" asked Raymond.
"Yes," Caitlyn said fervently.
Mark felt a knot somewhere inside his chest loosen and dissipate. She wanted to see him! That was a good sign, right?
When Raymond emerged and waved Mark forward, Mark ducked inside the cubicle.
Caitlyn was sitting on the bed. Her left foot was swathed in an elastic bandage, and she had a gauze pad taped to her forehead. She looked bruised and exhausted, but otherwise all right.
She was reading something on her phone but looked up with a smile as Mark entered. "You didn't have to wait all this time—" she began.
"I didn't mind," Mark assured her. "Glad to see that they finally released you from all those straps and buckles. Which reminds me—I need to collect the backboard and KED before we leave here." He looked her over. "What are the damages? If you don't mind me asking, that is."
Caitlyn shrugged. "A couple of stitches and a badly sprained ankle. And the doctor told me that tomorrow I'm going to feel like a couple of Mafia goons worked me over."
"As long as they didn't break your kneecaps," Mark said, just to see her smile.
She did. "As far as I know, I don't owe anyone money, and I haven't written any Mob exposés…yet."
An overwhelming compulsion gripped Mark. He knew what his bear wanted him to do. And it made sense, if he wanted to keep tabs on a reporter digging around the Roger Pemberton story.
Smolder: A Werebear + BBW Paranormal Romance (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters Book 2) Page 4
