Spurred Bearback (BBW Shifter Cowboy Western Romance) (Bear Ranchers Book 4)

by Becca Fanning

  “What? I heard you,” Beth replied, though in truth she hadn't. “We're going to lose the case. I got it. We lose cases all of the time. I did the best I could.”

  “Did you listen to a word I said?” Kastner asked, getting out of his chair and leaning on the desk in front of Beth and Cheryl. His office was small, much smaller than you would have expected from the founder of Kastner and Kastner Law Firm. The walls were lined with musty old books on law and who knows what else. The room would have been oppressive if not for the large window taking up the whole back wall. Sunlight streamed in, but Beth noticed that storm clouds were slowly blowing in. She wondered if it was an omen of what was to come.

  “Beth,” Cheryl said, all traces of joking gone. “This is serious. The drug charges might stick to Hudson. The murder charges won't. And when he's free, he's going to come after the only person who has gotten in his way. That's you. He's coming after you.”

  “You don't know that,” Beth stated. In her heart, though, she did. Charles Hudson was one of the most dangerous men in America. The amount of times he'd been in and out of court was almost laughable. He was never charged with any serious crimes.

  “We do, Beth,” Kastner said, grabbing her hands gently. His old hands were surprisingly soft for his age. “We all knew the risks involved in taking this case. Every prosecuting attorney who has ever opposed him in the court room has wound up disappearing. It's time that you disappeared, too. Before he finds you and does it himself.”

  Beth looked into his face, then glanced at Cheryl. Studying their faces, Beth watched as they cycled between fear, concern, and back to fear again. This is real, she thought.

  “Okay,” Beth agreed. Kastner and Cheryl both visibly relaxed. “I'll head back home for a few weeks. Nothing longer than that. You know I can't afford to miss too much work. Plus, what would I do without you two in my life?”

  Her levity was appreciated, but it did little to ease the tension in the room. Behind Kastner's bent frame, the storm was really rolling it. It was going to be a long, miserably wet drive all of the way back home. Beth almost let out a shudder. Home. The thought shook her up almost as much as Hudson's threat had.

  “Don't worry about that. I'll make sure you still get paid, no matter how long it takes. You're like family, Beth. I don't know what I would do without your help around here,” Kastner said, slowly getting up and embracing Beth in a hug. Beth moved to her friend.

  “I'll stay in touch,” Cheryl whispered, clutching her. Tears formed at her eyes. She's more worried about me than I am, Beth thought. Should I be taking this more seriously?

  Beth grabbed her purse and started to leave Kastner's office. As her hand touched the door knob, she heard Kastner behind her say, “We'll figure out some way to help you, Beth. Don't worry.”

  “No one ever told me that being a lawyer would be so exciting,” Beth said, flashing her best smile, and was out the door. The door slammed, leaving the other two lawyers sitting in silence as thunder rumbled through the sky.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” Beth sprinted across the parking lot, finding herself soaked by the pouring rain within seconds. The storm had blown in faster than she had expected. Thunder shook the ground and lightning lit the sky, but she hardly noticed. Her eyes had found a rough looking truck parked directly across from her car. The truck's windshield wipers were on full blast and his lights were on. She couldn't make out who was inside, but it looked like a large man. Almost as if he's waiting on something, she thought. Or someone.

  She only faltered for a half a step before regaining her composure, making it to her car in near record time. She tossed her purse into the passenger seat and turned the car on. It purred to life, comfort returning to her. She spent long hours in her car, driving to different court rooms, clients, and everywhere in between. Her car was a bastion of safety. Somewhere she was in complete control. Still, her hands were shaking.

  A cup of old coffee sat in the center console. She reached down, taking a big swig of the cold liquid. Gah! She almost spit it up but managed to gulp it down. Beth placed her hands on the wheel to stop her shaking. She was going to take a few days off work, hide out from that terrible man, and stay safe. She buckled up, turned on the lights and windshield wipers, and slowly pulled out of the parking lot.

  She kept an eye on her rear-view mirror. The truck stayed put at first, but as she watched, it slowly pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the road behind her. She took the next right, hoping to lose him in the flow of traffic. Halfway down the next block, she saw the battered truck tailing her.

  “Who are you? Why are you following me?” she muttered under her breath, eyes nervously checking his progress. She thought she could ditch him once she got out of the city. The interstate wasn't the only way back home and she intended to take every little back road she could think of. She pressed her foot on the gas a bit more and tried to leave him in her rear-view mirror.

  By the time Beth pulled up into the driveway of her old house, she hadn't seen the truck for well over four hours. As she had suspected, once she left the city and turned down a few lesser known highways, she had lost him. She had perhaps driven a bit too fast for what could be considered safe, especially in the rainstorm, but it had worked.

  The lights were off, of course. She could see the mailbox, stuffed to the brim with soggy mail, hanging half off its hinges by the front door. The lawn was a bit unkempt and a couple of tree branches had fallen in the storm, but everything else looked to be in good order. Still, she didn't turn off the car and head in immediately. Instead, she sat in silence, radio off, listening to the rain drops ping off the roof of the car. I haven't been home since Dad passed away, she thought. It was true. Her father had been dead for nearly a year now. She'd meant to sell the house, more to get rid of the memories than to make any money. She steeled herself. Thinking wasn't going to get her anywhere.

  Beth opened the door, sprinting out into the rain. It wasn't as bad as it had been in the city, but it was still coming down pretty good. She fumbled with her keys, unsure of which one opened the house. It took her a few failed tries before she found the correct one, throwing herself past the ruined mail and into the darkness of her old house.

  She reached up, hand immediately finding the light switch to the foyer. Light immediately flooded the room, a sharp contrast to the darkness outside. She dried her feet on the door mat before kicking off her wet boots, something her father had always insisted on. She looked up the staircase, covered in perfectly white carpet. She still remembered the time when she'd came in after playing in a puddle of mud, running straight up those stairs. Her father had nearly lost his mind.

  Beth walked slowly through her home. She had hired a housekeeper to come in once a week and keep the place tidied up. On her way here, she'd called her and told her that she wouldn't need her for the next few weeks. On the phone, the housekeeper had been hysterical until Beth had assured her she would still get paid. After that, the housekeeper was ecstatic. I wonder why, Beth thought.

  Everything was almost exactly how she remembered it. Familiar pictures still hung on the wall. The old bird feeder still hung from a branch in the back yard. Her dad's old record player sat silently, one of his favorite records still inside of it. She considered turning it on, but moved on instead. After she had done a tour of the house, Beth realized she was still soaked to the bone. She knew that she should still have some old clothes up in her room and headed for the stairs, making sure the doors and windows were locked tight.

  Beth slowly went up the stairs to her room, taking her time to soak in all of the memories. She found some old, worn clothes in her dresser, grabbed a towel, and headed for the shower. She was in no rush and stayed under the hot spray until she was pruned and the hot water started to run out. Clean, she grabbed her towel and headed into her room. She wondered why she never had come back before this. Despite everything that she'd went through with her father passing, the memories were still good. Warm. Comforting.


  She grabbed an extra towel, wrapping her hair up in it and wrapping the other around her body. She headed downstairs. Rain was still falling, but it had none of the fury from before. A sudden feeling struck her and Beth moved to the old record player, placing the needle on the record and turning it on. The record scratched, caught in the groove, and music flooded the air. The song had never been her favorite, but her father loved it, so it was enough.

  Her worries washed away as the song picked up. With a twirl on the hardwood floor, Beth was dancing. She'd always wanted to be a dancer, until she had wanted to be a lawyer. She swung her head, the towel flying off and her hair flowing out into the air. She took a couple of steps forward, loving the freedom. Another spin and her towel was on the ground, but she hardly noticed. She was lost in the thrall of the music. She ran her hands over her body, from her hips, to her breasts, then up into the air at the sky. She sang along with the beat, eyes closed, and let the music move her.

  The record scratched and the song cut off, immediately killing her groove. She turned the record player off, then moved to grab her towel, and froze. Someone was at the window! Thoughts flashed through her mind within a split second: How long has he been there? Did he see me naked? Dancing naked?! Of course he saw. Oh my God!

  Face burning red, Beth yelped and tried to cover herself as best she could as she reached for a towel. She moved forward, bending down to grab it – and slipped on the other towel. With another yelp, this one in alarm instead of embarrassment, Beth went down. In slow motion, she watched the man outside recoil from the fall she was having. His eyes went wide – eyes of a deep, golden hue? – and Beth's head struck the edge of the old coffee table, and everything went black.

  With a jump, Beth awoke. Her head throbbed. In a few seconds, she realized she was in her bed, underneath her covers. And she was naked! She laid in silence for a couple of moments, trying to work out how she had got from the living room up to her room without remembering. The last thing she remembered was the record skipping, going to fix it, and… The man at the window!

  Her heart started thumping in her chest. She tried listening for him over the sound of her heart. A thought formed in her mind. What if he brought me up here? She gave a nervous laugh. She had locked the door, including the deadbolt. No one was coming through that door.

  She slowly got up, testing her body. Everything felt fine except for her head. She went to the bathroom, pulling on her clothes as fast as she could manage. When she was dressed, she moved in front of the mirror to look at her head. There was a bandage over where she had hit the coffee table. I don't remember doing that, she thought.

  At that moment, she heard footsteps coming up the staircase. He was inside! She looked around for anything to use as a weapon. Beth settled on one of her old razor blades. If she aimed for the throat, maybe…

  She rushed out of the bathroom with a battle cry, holding her hand up high, aiming for the man's neck. He came around the corner, eyes wide again, and yelled in alarm. In a flurry of movement, Beth swung. The man moved backwards, his feet catching on the carpet, and he went down. His massive body hit the wall, leaving an impression of where he had initially impacted. He slowly slid down, plaster falling into his thick mane of hair.

  “You broke into the wrong house, pervert!” Beth screamed. She froze for a split second, then leapt into action again. She was on him instantly, the razor arcing out towards him. With speed that she would never have expected from a man his size, he grabbed her wrist. His grip was firm, yet surprisingly gentle. Beth swung with her other hand, striking him hard in the side of the face. He grimaced and grabbed her other hand.

  “I'm not here to hurt you,” was all he said. His voice was rough, like rocks along the bottom of a stream bed. Beth went limp for a second, then started thrashing around, trying to break free. “I'm not here to hurt you! I'll let you go when you stop trying to hurt me!”

  She protested for a few seconds before realizing she was getting nowhere. Accepting defeat, Beth nodded. He carefully released her wrists but kept his arms up in the event that she lashed out again. I need to get off of his lap, Beth thought, slowly getting up and tossing the razor blade away. The man got up, trying not to damage the wall even further.

  “Sorry about your wall,” he muttered sheepishly, shaking the plaster out of his hair.

  “Who the hell are you?” Beth bit off.

  “I can fix it.”

  “Fix it, pay for it. I don't care. It gets fixed,” Beth responded. She watched as he nodded at her and she took a few seconds to drink him in. He was taller than her. Broad shouldered and built of muscle. He had long, dark hair that was tied back behind his head. Those golden eyes caught her attention again. They were framed by a ruggedly handsome face. His arms were thick and covered in dark hair and ended in massive hands. She found herself wondering what it would be like if they went back to her bedroom – stop! She cut that line of thought off, taking in his clothing. He was still damp, wearing a black jacket, blue jeans, and muddy work boots. Muddy boots?

  She looked down the hallway, seeing muddy boot prints all along the carpet. “What did you do?!” she asked again, nearly screaming it this time. She ran down the hallway, looking at all of the mud he had tracked in. The stairs were almost black. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry? That's all you have to say?”

  “I'm sorry about your door, too.”

  Beth looked at the door. The frame was shattered, the glass on the door broken out, and the door itself was hanging on only one hinge. She collapsed onto the stairs, putting her hands in her face. “It just keeps getting worse and worse. You going to burn the house down, too?”

  “I only came in because I thought you might have been seriously hurt,” the man rumbled, sitting down beside her. “I'm Clive, by the way. Clive Ash.”

  “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, Clive,” Beth replied. “But it's not. You've destroyed my house, scared me half to death, and I still don't know why you're here.”

  “I've been sent to keep you safe. I’m with Big Paw Security. Your boss, Mr. Kastner, reached out to us. I've been sent to keep you safe. I've met Charles Hudson a few times. He's not someone you want to cross. As a matter of fact, it's only a matter of time before he finds out where your family home is. He's already raided your apartment. You're lucky you weren't there. Let me help you.”

  Beth still didn't know if she should trust him, but what choice did she have? She nodded weakly. She was in danger, whether she wanted to truly admit it or not.

  “Thanks,” she said, a little grudgingly. “I'm Beth.”

  “I know. It's a pleasure to meet you, Beth.”

  “We'll see about that.”

  Beth went down to the kitchen, avoiding eye contact with the ruined carpet and shattered door. She fixed herself a cup of coffee as Clive went outside to get a few tools to fix the door as best as he could. He told her that after the place was barred up, they would head out to a place where she could be kept safe. He wouldn't give details, and Beth decided not to push the issue. With everything going on, she just needed some caffeine to calm her nerves. After one sip, she gagged at the taste and tossed the cup into the sink.

  The kitchen was quiet except for the occasional sound of a drill, hammering, and the occasional curse. A sudden thought occurred to her. With the wall, carpet, and breaking and entering on her mind she hadn't even considered that she had been naked. Dancing and naked. In front of him. If Hudson didn't kill her, she was sure she would die of the embarrassment. How long had he been watching? He saw everything. Everything.

  She went out into the foyer to watch Clive work. She didn't say anything at first, instead content to watch his powerful body swing the hammer, lift the door, or tape up a trash bag over the broken window. She didn't understand anything he was doing, but she understood watching an attractive man work, getting all sweaty in the process. After a couple of minutes, he turned around a
nd noticed her.

  “Hey, didn't see you there. How long you been watching?”

  “I could ask you the same question about earlier,” she said. Despite the glare she was shooting him, she didn't really feel the anger that she was trying to convey. Best not to tell him that, though.