His To Bear

by Scarlett Grove

  His To Bear

  Bear Wardens

  Scarlett Grove

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Copyright © 2016 by Scarlett Grove

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Join Scarlett Grove’s mailing list for updates on new releases. Click here to join my newsletter. Or come visit my website at www.scarlettgrove.com.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  Grizzly shifter Brody Oberon hiked through the national park land, gripping his rifle as he climbed over the rugged trail. This part of the park was often frequented by people who hunted game illegally.

  He’d become a game warden to protect the land and the animals from humans who would over hunt and throw the off the balance of nature. He took his job seriously.

  Today, though, he hadn’t come across anyone up in this part of the forest. Perhaps the poachers had gone to another part of the park. No matter; he’d find them.

  Sniffing the air, he smelled the scent of blood. Bear blood. Hurrying up the rocky path, he came to a stand of old-growth lodgepole pines. Their numerous, slender trunks blocked his view of whatever was giving off the scent.

  He ducked through the underbrush, rifle in hand, ready to make an arrest. It was not bear season. When he broke through the bushes, he sucked in a sharp breath and growled.

  A huge brown grizzly lay sprawled across the ground, broken and bloody. Brody immediately recognized the bear as his best friend Chris Whitney. They’d known each other their entire lives.

  Brody dropped the rifle on the ground and knelt beside his friend.

  “Chris,” he said, touching his friend’s dark matted fur. “What happened?”

  The bear’s eyes fluttered opened and he looked up at Brody as the light began to fade from his eyes. Chris panted and slowly changed. His body contorted and shrunk, shifting into a broken, naked man, covered in blood and dirt.

  “Pushed,” Chris whispered as his eyes fluttered closed.

  “No, Chris. Stay with me buddy.” Brody put his hand on his friend’s arm, trying to shake him awake.

  Brody gripped the walkie-talkie at his shoulder and called into the dispatcher.

  “Janet, Brody Oberon, how long for an air lift out in the national park?”

  “Let me check.” A moment later, her voice came over the walkie-talkie. “At least two hours, Brody. What’s wrong out there? You got an injured hiker?”

  “Chris Whitney was pushed off a cliff. He’s fading fast. We need paramedics out here now.”

  “I can get an ambulance to meet you up there, but it will still be about twenty minutes.”

  “He isn’t going to make it that long, Janet.”

  “Just stay with him. They’re on the way to your location now. Don’t move him Brody.”

  Brody sat next to his friend holding his hand as his chest moved up and down in terrifyingly slow movements.

  “Do you remember the last touchdown at the homecoming game senior year?” Brody said, smiling through his panic. “You almost popped the ball when you threw it down. I thought you’d out us all that day.”

  He checked his friend’s pulse at his neck and listened to his breathing, feeling like his world was about to blink out.

  “Hang on, buddy. The paramedics are on their way.”

  He sat there, holding Chris’s hand wishing that shifters hadn’t decided to come out. Ever since the Shifter Council had decided to come out several months before, human hate groups had popped up all over the country and around the world.

  In Montana alone, dozens of shifters had been murdered by their own neighbors and friends. Humans were in a panic after finding out that supernatural creatures walked among them.

  Shifters were bigger, stronger, healed faster, and were more capable than humans in many ways. That was exactly the kind of thing that incited fear and loathing in humans. They had hatred against their own kind. Since shifters had come out, every hate group in the world had turned their attention to them.

  Luckily, since so many prominent people in human society were actually shifters, the Shifter Protection Act had passed in Congress just a few weeks ago.

  That hadn’t stopped the murders, but it did mean that convictions were harsh and swift. Chris had been pushed from the cliff above. Who would want to murder a hometown hero like Chris Whitney? He’d been loved by everyone since his football days in high school, even after he’d taken over his family’s ranch as an adult.

  Brody heard the snap of a dried branch and looked up to see the paramedics moving quickly into the clearing.

  They worked without a word, putting Chris onto a backboard to haul him out of the forest.

  An oxygen mask was put over his face and a neck brace around his neck. Brody picked up his rifle and followed the paramedics down the hill, after which they put him in the ambulance and sped off.

  Brody jumped in his truck and followed close behind. They made their way to small local hospital and rushed him into the emergency room.

  Brody was right behind them as they rolled Chris into surgery.

  As the doors swung behind the paramedics and doctors, Brody glimpsed a luscious, curvy woman in scrubs, putting her stethoscope in her ears.

  Chapter 2

  Millie Tanner pressed her stethoscope to the chest of the unbelievably broken-looking man on the gurney below her. She heard a faint heartbeat.

  She and her team worked to stabilize the man as quickly as possible. He was losing a lot of blood and had numerous broken bones.

  “He’s a shifter, doctor,” a nurse said.

  They did everything they could to stabilize him, but he was fading fast. His heartbeat was weakening by the second.

  Then it flatlined.

  She grabbed the defibrillator and shocked his chest. Nothing. Once more, she shocked him. A faint blip. Then nothing. A final try. Come on.

  She shocked him again. The deafening shriek of the flatlined heart monitor buzzed through the room.

  The team looked at each other. It had taken too long to get him in. Most of his bones were broken. Internal bleeding, damaged organs.

  “Call it,” she said.

  “Time of death, thirteen forty-two,” the nurse said.

  Millie pulled her gloves off and threw them in the garbage, disgusted that she’d lost a patient on her first day at the new hospital.

  It was supposed to be slow and easy here. General practice, bandaging boo-boos and mending broken arms. She wasn’t supposed to get a critically injured patient who would die of his wounds on her first day.

  Damn it.

  The ghosts of her past came back to haunt her. She’d left the city to become a country doctor to get away from this kind of thing, and it had followed her to the most rural hospital in the most rural state she could find.

  She walked out into the waiting room to speak with the man who’d come in with the patient. He was dressed in a uniform with a black cowboy hat.

  White blond hair curled under his hat. He looked up at her with searching, ice blue eyes, his expression tense and hopeful. She would have
found him incredibly attractive if she hadn’t been angry as hell.

  “I’m sorry, sir. He didn’t make it.”

  “No!” the man said, dropping into the waiting room chair.

  “We are determining cause of death now. Most likely, his spine was crushed. He had fluid in his lungs. By the time he got to us, he was already crashing.”

  “I can’t believe this,” the man whispered. “He was my best friend.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She could tell the man was hurting and her heart went out to him. If only the patient had made it to the hospital fifteen minutes ago, they would have had a better chance.

  He looked up at her with those bright blue eyes that were shining with unshed tears. “He said he was pushed.”

  “Pushed,” she whispered, coming closer to him. This guy was some kind of law enforcement officer. She couldn’t tell which. Probably with the sheriff’s department.

  “That was his last word, ‘pushed.’”

  “What do you think it means?” If this was a crime, her determination of cause of death would be part of the investigation.

  “He was at the bottom of a cliff. He was pushed off it.”

  She looked around to make sure no one else was listening. No one else was in the waiting room and the nurse who usually sat at the reception desk was in the back office.

  “Do you think he was murdered?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you with the sheriff’s department?”

  “Yes. I’m the game warden. Game wardens in Montana are part of all shifter-related crime investigations since they came out. This will be my case.”

  “I see. I’ll write up a report right away.”

  “Call me when it’s done,” he said, handing her a card.

  “Of course.” She took the card. Brody Oberon.

  He stood and shuffled to the door, looking as if he was drunk on grief.

  “Are you going to be okay?” she asked, moving to put her hand on his shoulder.

  He turned around, a tear streaking over the stubble on his cheek. It dripped off his square jaw and plopped on the collar of his brown uniform shirt.

  “I will,” he said. “Not everyday you find your best friend, crashed at the bottom of a hundred-foot cliff.”

  He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and then gave her a bright smile that surprised her with its light. It seemed to brighten up the whole room.

  “I have something to tell you,” he said cryptically. “What was your name?”

  “Oh. I’m Doctor Millie Tanner.”

  “Nice to meet you Millie Tanner. I hope I see you again soon.”

  He took her fingers and pressed his full lips to the dusky brown skin on the back of her hand. A tingle swept through her and she was taken aback. She gasped with shock and excitement.

  As soon as he let her go, she snatched her hand away, confused. “Yes, well. I’ll contact you about the cause of death soon. Take care of yourself.”

  The smile faded from his face and he turned away, his broad muscular shoulders slumped. Millie watched him walk through the sliding glass doors at the front of the hospital.

  What was that about? Her hand still tingled from his kiss. Her heart fluttered with new awareness. No one had ever kissed her hand like that before, let alone a law enforcement officer on a homicide investigation.

  Strange. Still, she was so excited by his touch, she couldn’t bring herself to be angry about it.

  Chapter 3

  Brody fell out of bed in the morning, having spent the night before drinking his sorrows. Alcohol had a quick effect on shifters, but they recovered quickly.

  Still, he had a bit of a hangover. Even a shifter got a bit fuzzy after a bottle of Jack. He trudged to the bathroom and ran his hand through his white-blond hair.

  He groaned and looked at his red-rimmed eyes. He hadn’t felt this crappy in years. The last time he’d drunk so much had been with Chris when they’d graduated high school.

  The memory stung. He growled in the mirror. Anger filled his belly. Whoever did this was going to pay.

  The turned on the shower and stepped under the warm flow of water that rained down over his tanned skin.

  He ran shampoo through his hair and soap over his taut muscles. As he washed, his mind went to the doctor from the day before.

  His inner bear, who was still sleepy from drink, growled at him from within his mind.

  Mate.

  That doctor was his mate. Brody blinked in the dim light of the shower. Emotional highs and lows were surging in his chest. The worst thing that had ever happened to him came on the same day as the best thing that had ever happened.

  A shifter finding his mate was a joyous occasion. Too bad he couldn’t enjoy it like he should. Brody was a guy who liked to have a good time. He liked to laugh and spend time with friends. He was generally a happy person.

  But Chris’s death had planted a black seed in his heart. He’d become bent on revenge since the doctor told him Chris was dead.

  Even though that doctor was his mate.

  Confusion reeled in his mind. How was he supposed to handle all this? He wished his mom was still alive to talk to. He’d have asked her what to do.

  Both his parents had died several years ago in a bad car accident in the snow the winter right after he’d graduated college.

  He’d come home to take care of their estate and had stayed to take on the job as game warden. His best friend from high school stayed on to take over his family’s ranch and the two had picked up right where they’d left off.

  Chris was about to get married to the sheriff’s daughter, Natalie Charles. Shit, poor Natalie.

  She’d be heartbroken.

  Brody turned off the shower and stepped out, drying himself in the steamy room.

  After he got dressed and ready, he made himself a quick breakfast in his big kitchen. The farmhouse had belonged to his parents. They’d just remodeled it before they’d died. The entire place had been upgraded.

  Big kitchen, awesome bathrooms, a wrap-around porch that looked out at the mountains. Brody ate his cereal and looked out the window at the view.

  Everyone he’d loved was dead. The black pit in his heart throbbed and he threw the bowl of cereal in the sink. He’d lost his appetite.

  Outside in the cooling autumn air, he checked his beehives. It would soon be time to harvest the honey. His dad had been a beekeeper and had taught Brody about how to care for them.

  It was one of the most joyful things in his life. But even the sweetness of the honey seemed bitter in a world without his best friend or his parents.

  He went around the house to the front driveway and got in his truck. He’d have to patrol the lake today on his rounds, checking fishing licenses and making sure people threw back the small fry.

  Tourists came out to the lodge and had no idea that they actually had to get a fishing license to fish in the lake. Educating them about their responsibility to the natural environment was a major part of his job.

  He drove down the hill into the valley and turned into the resort parking lot. It wrapped around into a state park where people would fish off the dock.

  Dropping out of the truck, he checked his gear and shoved his tickets in his pocket.

  Brody began to walk down the trail that led to the parkland around the side of the lake.

  It was a brisk, clear day. The steely blue water reflected the big Montana sky in its depths. He took a deep breath of the air, feeling it invigorate his soul.

  This was what he needed. To get back outside, smell the water and forest, feel the wind on his skin.

  As the turned a corner, he saw some fishermen on the docks several hundred yards away.

  As he strode down the trail, a big golden retriever bounded toward him, yipping happily. The dog jumped up to his waist and tried to lick his face. Even for a big dog, there was no way it could reach his face. The animal made Brody laugh.

  “Hey boy, where’s your owner?”
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  “Bucky!” a woman’s voice called through the forest. The curvy doctor he’d met the day before came jogging through the trees with a collar and leash in her hands.

  “He slipped his collar,” she said breathlessly, as she caught up to her dog and put the collar back on his neck. “I hope he isn’t bothering you.”

  “No. Not at all.”

  The dog tried to jump up on Brody again. “Bucky!” Millie scolded as she pulled him down. “I don’t know what got into him. He’s usually so well-behaved.”

  “He’s fine. I like dogs.” Brody bent down to pet the dog’s head.

  “You’re Brody Oberon. The game warden, right?”

  “Yes. We met yesterday at the hospital.”

  Brody’s bear roared inside him. Mate! Mate! Mate!

  “You kissed my hand,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “What was that about?”

  He wanted to grab her and press his lips hard against hers. Damn. His bear wanted him to take her right here. Rut in the woods like a wild thing.

  Brody shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed. This doctor probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

  “I was overcome by grief,” he said. He wasn’t ready to tell her she was his mate. Too confused to think, he decided to ignore his bear’s passionate growling.

  “I’ve never had anyone do that before,” she said, pulling on her dog’s leash as the animal tried to jump on him again. Instead, the golden retriever licked his hand vigorously.

  “Jesus, Bucky!” she said, pulling him back and laughing.

  “He’s just returning the kiss I gave you,” Brody said.

  Millie snorted out a cute little laugh then smirked at him. “That must be it,” she said.

  “Have you determined what killed Chris?”

  “Yes, actually. I was going to contact you after I walked Bucky. I’m staying at the resort until I find a house. I got a good deal on a month-long package.”

  “Nice. I’ve always liked it here. They throw a nice barbeque.”

  “Would you like to come up to my room and read the report?” she asked.