Shrew & Company Books 1-3

by Holley Trent

  So paranoid, her parents. Easy to see where Tamara had gotten it from. Tată never sat in booths because they jammed him in. Made him slow to react. All those years as a diplomat had made him twitchy in public. He must have still been afraid someone would sneak up and shoot him.

  At the table, the Ursus rearranged the menus so two of the occupied seats had their backs to the kitchen, and the two directly across from them were vacant. That way, no one would have his or her back to the public entrance. Tată slipped into the seat at one end, ostensibly so he could watch the kitchen door.

  Bryan and Tamara took the two seats on the long side, and Mama took the one across from Tată.

  They sat in silence until the waitress delivered glasses of water and took Tată’s wine order.

  Sick of the tight-lippedness, Tamara drew her water glass closer and cut her gaze to her father. “So, why are you in the States?”

  “Perhaps I simply missed my daughter.”

  She shifted her gaze to her other parent and hoped her expression adequately transmitted her incredulity.

  Mama raised her elegant shoulders in a shrug, and tucked a loose swath of her glossy, though graying, hair behind her ear. “Oh, you know how it is. We had all those frequent flyer miles to use up.”

  “And you summon me like a servant because of frequent flyer miles? Bullshit. I’m working a case right now. I’m sure you’ll be in town long enough for me complete it.”

  “Yes, about your case—”

  “Katrina,” Tată interrupted. “Your nose is shiny.”

  Mama’s eyes narrowed. There wasn’t a damned thing wrong with her nose, and they all knew it. Tamara, further, knew her mother spent a lot of money to keep it that way. All the same, Mama pushed her chair back and grabbed her purse. “Why don’t you come with me, Tamara?” It was more a command than a request. She shoved the chair beneath the table and held her hand out for her daughter. “Maybe I have something for your blue lips. A nice Dior red.”

  Tamara rolled her eyes, but followed the Ursu matriarch toward the loo. She may have been scrappy, but she knew exactly whom she’d inherited that personality from. The genetic donor wore pearls and Ferragamo pumps.

  ___

  Bryan waved off the offering of wine from Mr. Ursu and pulled the breadbasket closer. As Bryan tore a piece of Italian bread in half, Mr. Ursu leaned back in his seat, studying him.

  “Do you know what Ursu means, Mr. Ridge?”

  Bryan shook his head. “Unfortunately, my knowledge of the Romanian tongue is nil. I couldn’t even tell you which alphabet it uses.”

  “Best you keep it that way. Some of the things that come out of Tamara’s mouth shouldn’t be translated. She learned it from her grandmother, I suppose.” He actually looked a bit pained when speaking that statement.

  Bryan raised his eyebrows.

  Mr. Ursu set his chair down onto all four legs and brought his wine glass to his lips. He sipped, not taking his gaze off Bryan.

  Bryan had never been one to fidget under another man’s stare, but this was the father of the woman he’d, less than six hours prior, done some very messy things with, and whom he hoped to repeat those messes with when some of the shit in his life calmed down a bit. He swallowed and dipped his bread in the rosemary olive oil.

  “Ursu, Mr. Ridge, means bear.”

  Bryan’s hand, halfway between his plate and his mouth, stilled. “That’s a cute coincidence.”

  Mr. Ursu swirled his wine and ground his teeth. “Tamara thinks we got our name from some bear hunters way back in the family tree. Mighty conquerors that took on the name as a badge of courage.”

  “And?”

  “And maybe there are some back there I don’t know of, but the truth is a bit pricklier.” He took a long sip of wine, set the glass onto the tabletop, and stared down at the viscous red liquid. “We’ve been ursu so long that we no longer remember who was the first one.”

  “You’re not talking about hunters.”

  “No. If we had thought Tamara would work so closely with a born-Bear, we would have sheltered her more in the US.”

  Bryan wasn’t catching the drift, if there were even one to be caught. Maybe there was something being lost in translation. He set his bread chunk down on his plate, and folded his arms atop the table. “Please speak plainly, Mr. Ursu. I’m in some deep shit right now that I need to get back to the mountains tonight to tend to. I came along with Tamara because now that she’s working with me, I fear for her safety. Being seen with me in my stomping grounds may be bad for her health, and I’d like to resolve my issues as soon as conceivably possible.”

  “Okay. Plain talk. I can’t smell your bear, but I know you are one. You can’t smell mine or Katrina’s for the same reason we can’t smell yours. And you can’t smell Tamara’s because hers is hidden.”

  “What?” No one had ever accused Bryan of being slow, but was this guy talking in circles or what?

  “I am Bear, Mr. Ridge, as is my wife. Born-Bears.”

  “But that would make—”

  “It should, but it didn’t. Genetic glitch. Her grandmother has it as well.”

  Huffing, Bryan leaned back in his chair. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “We had the DNA analyzed by one of our close friends. He looked into hundreds of Bear genetic samples, and the mutation seems to be confined to our little corner of Europe.”

  “If she’s not Bear, what’s she supposed to be?”

  Mr. Ursu bobbed his big shoulders. “Haven’t figured that out. In all of the known cases of this, none of the gene holders display any unusual proclivities.”

  “You mean other than a sensitivity to Bear chemistry.”

  Mr. Ursu turned his hands over and nodded. “I’m guessing you bit her.”

  “In a moment of weakness and high emotion after the full moon, yes. I took a bite out of her jacket.”

  Glory-holed her.

  “You’re going to have to bite her again.”

  “What? Enough with the crazy talk. What are you getting at?”

  Raking his hands through his thick, silver hair, Mr. Ursu blew out a breath. “It’s like you said. She’s sensitive to the chemistry without actually being able to do anything with it. We call it ‘lazy bear.’ Her bear is there, but it’s like she’s in a cave with no desire to play with others. Your bear can sniff hers. Woo her, but she won’t be drawn out. You can only go to her. When this happened to Katrina’s mother, she went into a coma until the man that would later be her husband came along and bit her. He introduced his Bear antibodies into her bloodstream, and that made her brain release the hormones she needed to reboot. I suspect Tamara’s Shrew mutations are fighting against her Bear composition. Her body is probably overcompensating to keep the Bear out, not that the Bear could ever take over, really.”

  “And you think a bite and a little spit is going to keep her from going blue in the lips?”

  “We hope. The rub is, you have to make the lazy bear angry enough to fight back.”

  As if fighting with Tamara wasn’t a major chore as it were.

  Now it was Bryan’s turn to rake his hands through his hair. “Shit. She’s twenty-four and has no idea?”

  “No. We kept it from her, hoping she’d never show any outward distress, but look where that got us.”

  “She’s been experimented on enough. I don’t want to bite her just to see what happens. I need to tell her.”

  “No!” Color flooded Mr. Ursu’s cheeks, and he gripped the table edge as if the idea were so obscene. “No. If you tell her, you won’t get her angry. She’ll go along with the plan thinking it’ll fix what’s wrong with her, and it won’t work. It’s better if she doesn’t know. You need to catch her when she’s riled up. Make her angry.”

  Bryan drew his menu closer and stared at it, unseeing, as Tamara and Mrs. Ursu returned to the table.

  Tamara squeezed his knee under the table, and said, “The ravioli looks good. Probably not filling enough for yo
u.”

  “Probably not.”

  Mr. Ursu nodded at him and picked up his own menu.

  Mrs. Ursu cast Bryan a speculative glance over the top of her own.

  Tamara drew her bottom lip between her teeth and turned the pages of her menu with her forehead scrunched in concentration.

  He didn’t want to make her angry. Didn’t want to betray her trust, but if that would fix her for good so her Shrew would make peace with her lazy bear, he would have to. The fact she was Bear blew his mind. It was if his beast had known all along. Yes, he wanted Tamara, and even more so now that he knew she could be a true mate for him. Really, if it were him in her shoes, he’d want someone to do the same. He’d be pissed, but eventually, he’d understand it was for the best.

  Probably.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Drea dragged her shirtsleeve under her bloody nose and pulled the phone across the counter with a shaking hand.

  It took her three tries to get all the numbers punched into the phone in the right sequence, but finally, there were the telltale clicks that indicated Drea’s number was pre-approved for instant connection, and then a husky voice. “Castillo.”

  Sarah. Good.

  Drea regretted being the cause, in part, of Sarah getting shot in the gut when she was barely pregnant enough for it to register on a test. The baby was fine, so far, but what if she hadn’t been? She would have that baby’s demise on her conscience for the rest of her life, for as long as was it was.

  Lately, she wasn’t so sure how much longer she intended to hang on.

  “Sarah, this is Andrea Ridge.”

  “Drea. What’s wrong, honey?”

  “I…didn’t want to call, but—”

  “You’re still worried about Bryan? He’s fine. Tamara checked in early this morning.”

  “Okay. Good. Good.” Drea lifted the phone base and paced behind the counter at the dry cleaning business.

  She had been just about to close up when Gene came in, and this time, he was alone.

  If she were big like Bryan, she could have shifted and tore the little masochist apart, because in a fight that was Bear against Bear, the born-Bear almost always won. But she was a female bear, and that muddled the odds. She couldn’t let fear ride her bear if she were going to fight. She needed aggression, but didn’t know how to bottle it—how to trick her bear into getting mad.

  “Drea,” Sarah prodded. “Do you need some help?”

  Drea pressed her fingertips against her swollen left eyelid and nudged it up, trying in vain to focus on the small security camera mounted over the shop door. Was the light on? She couldn’t tell. Usually, the camera fed into a computer back in the office, but she’d learned about twenty minutes ago that Gene or one of his lackeys had reprogrammed it. He’d been watching her every move in the shop for the past two days, unbeknownst to her. He didn’t see much. Couldn’t have. No one had been in the shop except for customers and one old school friend who’d apparently lingered too long for Gene’s tastes.

  “Wish Jacques had kept you. Wouldn’t be in half this much shit right now if you were a circus bear,” Gene had said before he left.

  Right. If Jacques had kept her. As if it were up to him. She wasn’t a belonging. Wasn’t a pawn. She’d told Gene as much four years ago on her eighteenth birthday when he’d tried to put his paws where they didn’t belong.

  Dragging her tongue across her split lip, she closed her eyes.

  “Is this…a good time for you to talk?” Sarah asked.

  Drea understood the hidden meaning even if no one else could. “No. I don’t think so. I’m sorry I called. I’m so distracted today. Can’t remember what I was supposed to be doing.”

  Silence filled the line for a moment as Sarah didn’t hang up, and Drea was too afraid to.

  “Hey. If you’re all caught up on those bedspreads that got brought in, I’ve got some draperies for you. They came out of storage. Need a lot of work. Bring them in tomorrow?”

  Tears tracked down Drea’s cheeks, and as no one was there to see them, she didn’t bother wiping them away. How dare she cry? She wasn’t even getting the worst of it. She was lucky, compared to some.

  Where was Bryan?

  Damn him.

  No, damn herself. If she hadn’t always leaned so heavily on him, she might be able to get herself out of her own messes. She was always making them, and he was always cleaning them up.

  “Uh.” She swallowed, struggling with the lump in her throat, and nodded before remembering Sarah couldn’t see it through the phone. “We’re running a special. If you bring the drapes, we’ll do your tablecloths included in the same price.”

  “Good deal. I’ll tell the girls.”

  “Okay. Have a good one.” Drea set the phone on the base and dropped her chin to her chest, eyes closed.

  Her bear checked in, giving her a similar doleful, piteous gaze she gave herself every time she looked in the mirror. This shit needed to stop, and soon, or else she wouldn’t be much more than a shell. A woman just going through the motions in life, living day-to-day for most of the month, and letting the animal part of her break free for the rest.

  Maybe if she let her bear do the steering for a while, she’d be better off.

  Her bear forced a growl through Drea’s throat that made her busted lips draw back.

  She got the point.

  I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself, the bear said.

  They were one in the same. Two sides of the same coin. When one went, the other went along for the ride, even if only one face was showing.

  “I’m going to help myself.”

  You don’t have to convince me, her bear said. Convince yourself.

  “Right. Right.” Drea fisted her keys and strode to the rear entrance. She input the intruder alarm code, and pushed the door open to the alleyway.

  Drawing several long, cool breaths into her lungs, she forced her eyes open wide and searched the night sky for Ursa Major—the great she-bear.

  Her old great-auntie used to tell her as a child that if she were feeling low, to look for the bear, and she’d give her strength. Auntie had said long ago, a rock hurtled from the sky and landed on Earth, and when the people looked up, a star was missing. They thought it was a gift from the celestial bear, and they boiled it in their broth to take it into them. Auntie had said that’s why they were Bear. She’d said they were chosen, and they should cherish their roles. They were given a gift because they walked in peace.

  Drea let her heavy eyelids droop and blew out a sigh. Peace. How long had it been since the Bears had known peace? They couldn’t just blame Gene. They’d let it happen. They’d figuratively clasped their hands behind their backs and hid behind their pacifism while Gene tortured.

  Bryan had understood long before Drea did, but she knew now that sometimes, to snatch back the peace, you had to shake the earth a bit. Throw down some rocks.

  She got into her car, slammed the door, and locked it. Turning the key in the ignition, she set her gaze on the stars and let down her parking brake.

  “All right, Big Bear. I hear ya.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I hope my father didn’t scare you.” Tamara stood on tiptoes and scanned the contents of the high shelf in search of some obscure cereal brand Dustin had requested.

  Bryan reached over her head and pulled a box from way back in the rear and tossed it into the cart. She studied the picture on the paperboard box with a scoff of disbelief. “A thirty-year-old man eats marshmallow cereal?”

  “We all have our vices,” Bryan said. He laughed, and pushed the cart toward the bottled juices.

  “What are yours? You don’t seem particularly obsessive.”

  “No more than usual for a Bear, but no, I don’t really have any. Maybe if I did have a few, I wouldn’t be so high-strung.”

  “Good point.”

  “What about you?” He pulled two large jugs of Powerade off the shelf and transferred them to the basket.
“Any bad habits?”

  “Beer used to be one, but Shrews metabolize alcohol too quickly for it to do any good. At least the sort of good we’d like it to do. It’s hard to lose your inhibitions when there isn’t a substance around that can help the job along.”

  “Ah. Well, to answer your question, no, your father didn’t scare me.”

  “What’d you talk about?”

  He raised his shoulders briefly and let them fall. “The usual stuff. The weather. Sports. New movie releases.”

  “Liar.”

  His grin confirmed her suspicion.

  They rounded the aisle into personal care where Tamara picked up a new bottle of shower gel. She’d forgotten hers at the hotel. Now they’d checked into a partially furnished cabin on a campground on the outskirts of town. Bryan needed room for his bear to run, and figured this was as good an opportunity as any.

  “Okay, maybe we discussed you.” He tossed a tube of toothpaste into the cart and pressed onward.

  “What about me?”

  “Oh, you know. The usual sorts of threats fathers give guys who look at their daughters the wrong way.”

  Well, that sounded like Tată. He was overprotective, and her brothers were nearly as bad. If it were up to those three, she’d marry some boring, scrawny accountant who wouldn’t know the difference between a trigger and a tripwire.

  “Did you insinuate that we are together?”

  They paused in front of the paper products display where Bryan’s gaze flitted back and forth between two different sized paper towel bundles.

  “Get the larger one. Cheaper per unit. And answer me.”

  Groaning, Bryan wedged the towels beneath the cart and pushed on. “I didn’t insinuate anything. He assumed, and I didn’t correct him.”

  “Oh.” With her hands stuffed into the back pockets of her jeans, she followed him toward the cold case where beer and refrigerated wines were stocked. He grabbed a case of Natural Light and set it in front of the towels as he raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Was that the wrong response?”

  “I’m not aware of there being a script.”