Bear-ly A Hero (Bear Claw Security 2)

by Terry Bolryder

  Oh hell, he was going to try and break into her house.

  What did they want from her? Was it someone random stalking her or someone associated with the shifters she’d run away from?

  She had no idea, and either option was terrifying.

  Ugh, why hadn’t she learned how to fight?

  He crouched in front of the door, putting his tool up to the lock, and her eyes soaked in his massive frame, bunched up as he squatted. His thighs were impossibly big. Bigger than her head.

  She looked down at the umbrella in her hand. Not good enough. She had grabbed it out of sheer panic, and even the wooden handle wouldn’t be half what she needed.

  The doorknob jiggled, and she put her hands over her mouth. Should she run and call 9-1-1, or would her voice give her away? After this, she was going to leave a bad review for Bear Claw Security. If she lived that was. If they’d just sent Limes when they said they would, she wouldn’t be in this position.

  Though, she wasn’t sure a nerd, even an ex-Special Forces nerd, could take on that behemoth outside.

  A behemoth that was about to be inside.

  She jumped behind the door as it creaked open, hiding herself in the corner so when the stranger came in, he wouldn’t be able to see her. The lights in the living room turned on, and everything was quiet, except for his breathing. He was looking around.

  Soon, he’d reach to shut the door, and everything would be over.

  She took a deep breath, kicked the door out of the way, and ran out at him, swinging the umbrella with a scream.

  He looked around in shock just in time for her to catch him right in the eye with the wooden handle.

  He howled in pain and put his hand up to his face as she made a break for it, trying to run for her bedroom. He caught her by the hem of her sweatshirt with one hand, stopping her and jerking her off her feet. He let go as she landed on her butt and then stared down at her with eyes that could kill.

  Flaming green eyes rimmed with coal lashes, topped by dark, angry thick brows.

  “What. The. Hell?” the stranger said in a dark voice, touching his eye and then looking at his hand as if to make sure it wasn’t bleeding. He folded his arms and walked closer. As he did, he saw the umbrella on the ground between them. He picked it up and stared at it, dumbfounded. Then at her. Then at it.

  “What the fuck did you do that for?” he asked, his chest heaving indignantly.

  An angry bruise was already forming around his eye. Oh gosh, she’d given this thug a black eye. A black eye!

  He took a step forward, and her floorboards creaked beneath him. He was going to kill her.

  She put her hands over her head and curled up, as if that could protect her. “Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, knowing it was pointless to try and run. Even after a hit to the eye, his reflexes had been lightning fast.

  “What are you talking about?” he said in a flat, annoyed voice.

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was just standing there, waiting. She uncurled a bit. “Well, you broke in. If you’re here to rob me, take what you want.” She shook her head. “There’s nothing I can do about it. I won’t fight you.”

  A muscle near his eye twitched. “Good to know,” he said. But he didn’t sound happy about it.

  “But please don’t hurt me,” she said again in a small voice.

  His mouth simply tightened farther. If possible, he looked even more pissed. Right now, she felt he could shoot laser beams out of his eyes if he wanted.

  “And why on earth would I hurt you?” he finally asked in a low, impatient voice, crouching in front of her. “I mean, aside from the fact that you likely gave me a black eye, which will heal.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a business card. Then he hauled her to his feet and left her standing in her front room as he walked over to the door, locked it, and then sat on her couch, suddenly taking up all the space in the living room.

  “I’m Limes,” he said, glowering up at her. “You hired me.”

  She flipped over the business card with shaking hands and saw Bear Claw Security written beneath his name. Holy hell. She’d attacked her bodyguard.

  Wait, that was her bodyguard.

  His eyes stayed narrowed as his lips spread into a mean smile. His tattooed arms extended over the top of her couch. His long legs crossed in front of him. “Nice to meet you.”

  She resisted the urge to faint.

  3

  Limes couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. It hadn’t even been when she’d whacked him in the eye when he was just coming in to make sure she was okay, since the house was dark and no one was answering the door.

  She was supposed to be expecting him.

  No, what had made him angry was the way she just looked up at him and asked him not to hurt her. And said she wouldn’t fight him. First, why did she think he was some kind of monster? Second, if she did think that, why would she just roll over and let him do as he pleased? Would she say that to anyone threatening her? Darkness roiled in him for some reason. He didn’t like that at all.

  But why should he care? He’d only come here to convince her she shouldn’t work with him anyway.

  But apparently, she’d been expecting something different. She was still looking at him with a mix of fear and awe that made him angrier yet.

  He nodded to the chair across the room. “Sit down,” he commanded. He chided himself for the tone he’d used as she jumped and then scurried over to the chair. No need to be harsh and commanding with this one.

  As she sat there with her hands in her lap, he studied her carefully.

  She had a mass of dark curls around her face, slightly obscuring her eyes from his view. But he knew from earlier that they were dark brown and wide and sparkly when she was scared.

  Ugh, he hated she was scared.

  He wasn’t supposed to care about those things.

  She tucked her knees up under her and put her hands over the top. She had a curvy body, from what he could make out under the baggy sweatshirt she was wearing. The jeans she had on had seen better days. She had pretty brown skin, and he didn’t see a touch of makeup on her face. And now that he thought about it, her hair didn’t look like she paid much attention to it.

  She felt him watching and grabbed at it self-consciously, tying it back with a ponytail holder from her wrist, which she held in her mouth as she battled the hair into the right shape to tie it off.

  Then she looked at him again and he could make out her face better, even in the dim light of the room, since he’d only managed to turn on one lamp.

  She was pretty, in that average, friendly kind of way. A pert, snub nose, wide cheeks, smooth forehead.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked in a shaky voice, trying to be defiant.

  “An extremely stupid person, that’s what I’m looking at.” He pointed at her with the umbrella. “You really think this was going to do anything?”

  She bit her lip. “I reacted fast.”

  He set it down on the couch beside him. “You’re lucky you hired us.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t last a second on your own if I’d really been one of the bad guys.”

  Her little face tightened in anger. That was cute. “Excuse me?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter. She pointed at his eye. “I believe it did do something.”

  So she had. He gave her a dark look as he put a hand up to touch the skin of his eye, and she bit her lip and slumped back again. “And you really want to remind me of that?”

  “No,” she said quick. “No, I’m sorry. It was an accident.”

  He sighed and leaned forward, clasping his hands. “Look, anyway, there’s been some kind of mistake—”

  “I agree,” she said quickly, cutting him off. “Definitely a mistake. I can’t work with you.” She put her hands up, as if warding him off, and Limes felt a prickle of indignation. “Absolutely not. I’ll work with that Brontosaurus guy.”

  “Bronson?” Limes asked, fighting b
ack a somewhat hysterical laugh at her mauling of Bronson’s name.

  She waved a hand. “Sure, Bronson. Whatever. You’re all as big as dinosaurs. But fine. I’ll work with him.”

  The irritation came back at that, swiftly replacing any amusement he’d felt. A prickle of unwanted possessiveness waved through him, shocking him to the core.

  Limes didn’t ever feel possessive. Especially not toward women who hit him in the eye and didn’t want his help and basically insulted him from the moment he met them.

  He narrowed his eyes, and she did that cute little lip-biting thing again. It made him want to do things to her. He should be the one biting it.

  He sat upright in the chair, suddenly uncomfortably aware of how odd his thoughts were.

  Limes worked with computers. Limes cared about computers. Limes didn’t care about cute bottom lips or helpless curvy women who didn’t want his help anyway.

  He stood, then looked around the room, then sat again. He couldn’t make himself leave.

  Not until they’d worked this out.

  But Limes didn’t know how they would do that, because for some reason, now that she didn’t want to hire him, he didn’t want to leave.

  He was supposed to be the one that cut this off. Not her. She should be lucky to have him. He could protect as well as Bronson, even if he didn’t have Bronson’s people skills. He folded his arms, not caring that it looked intimidating.

  He saw her eyes glance over him again and once again noted the fear there and just beneath that, if he wasn’t imagining it, just a hint of… appreciation?

  Maybe that was wishful thinking.

  She rolled her lips together. They were full, he realized, watching them. Full and plump. Like the rest of her. He wanted to just gather her up in his arms and—

  “Ouch,” he said as a twinge of pain went through his eye.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, standing and almost running to her fridge. She pulled out an ice pack and wrapped it in a paper towel and then handed it to him. “This should help. I’m sorry. When you broke in… I thought…”

  He took it from her, eyeing her warily. “All right. I shouldn’t have done that. I admit I panicked a bit when it was dark, knowing you were supposed to be home and you’d recently sought to hire protection.”

  She nodded. “It’s okay.” But it didn’t look okay. She still looked shaky. Twitchy. Like she was expecting someone to come through the door any minute.

  A part of him wanted to stay there and make sure no one did. Show her what to do instead of swinging a useless umbrella. Still, she’d gotten a good hit in.

  Definitely stronger than a human. He inhaled the air. What, though? He wasn’t sure. Something smaller than a bear, based on her size.

  Hm.

  “Anyway,” she said, twisting her hands in her lap as a curl popped free from her bun and fell in her face. She quickly pushed it back. “Like I said, there’s been a mistake. I’ll go back and meet with Bronson in the morning.”

  Limes’s jaw tightened. “What?”

  “In the morning,” she said, looking up at him. “I’ll go in the morning. I’ll be fine until then.” She gave him a weak smile. “I just overreacted, obviously.”

  Limes leaned back, hands behind his head. “You shouldn’t judge on appearances.”

  She looked like she wanted to argue but was too scared to. “Sorry,” she said insincerely.

  He liked that. “What?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, feigning innocence.

  “What are you pissed about?” He gestured to her posture. “You said sorry, but your eyes said, ‘Fuck you,’ so what’s your problem, lady?”

  “You’re rude,” she said flatly, folding her arms.

  “I believe you were told that,” he retorted.

  “And you say I’m useless.”

  “You behaved uselessly,” he said.

  “And you look like a thug,” she said.

  His lips tightened at that. “I am a thug. I work in personal security.”

  “But you’re supposed to be a hacker. You’re supposed to be—”

  He stood abruptly, cutting her off as he crossed the room and stopped in front of her chair, intimidating her as he put a hand on each side of her, caging her in. “I’m not supposed to be anything but what I am.”

  He liked the way fire lit in her dark eyes as she looked up at him. Finally, she seemed more angry than afraid.

  That was good. He liked her angry. He didn’t like her cowering in fear.

  She pushed at his chest, and he stepped back easily. He could almost feel her heart pounding as she stared at him, hair more undone, face slightly flushed. “Fine,” she said. “Be what you want as long as you get out of my house.”

  Limes simply took a step back and glanced at the couch. Then he walked down the hall beyond the kitchen and flicked on a light there.

  He ignored her muttered protests as he looked for a linen closet. When he found one and opened it, he heard her squeak in response and stand up, coming to the end of the hall to watch him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Making a bed,” he said, bringing sheets forward and spreading them over the couch so he could sleep there and watch the entrances. The window and the door were the most probable entry points.

  “But-but… I don’t want to hire you,” she said helplessly. As if she knew it were impossible to dissuade him.

  “Too bad,” he said, lying back on the too-small couch and resting his head on his hands, pretending he could somehow get relaxed in this position. “I’m staying whether you like it or not.”

  She took in a deep breath, and he glanced at her, enjoying the way she seemed like a teapot. All steamed up and ready to blow.

  He almost expected her to yell at him, but instead, she turned on her heel and stomped down the hallway.

  Then he heard her footsteps coming back. “Fine!” she said. “Stay if you want. But in the morning, you’re fired!” Then, with a little screech of disgust, she was gone.

  Limes gave a bitter grin. “We’ll see about that.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Limes was up and ready when she was. Which was good, because after a sleepless night followed by awful dreams, she was cranky and fired up and ready to march back into Bear Claw Security to let them know there had been a mistake.

  Limes was in her kitchen, eating breakfast. Her eyes widened at the plates in front of him. One was covered in eggs, poorly cooked and just sort of splayed over it, and some badly burned toast, which he was devouring as he read something on his phone.

  He turned to her with a grin as she approached.

  Even as she thought she was starting to get used to him, she managed to still feel a chill down her spine when she took him in. He was ginormous. And those tattoos. And that height. And that face. Why did that face have to look so mean? Was it the super-short, almost buzzed hair? Was it the stubble? The way even his smile looked evil? Those green eyes?

  He raised a glass of orange juice to her as she glared at the mess he’d made.

  “Helped yourself, I guess,” she said, pulling a low-cal shake from the fridge and downing it quickly.

  He frowned at it and then shook his head. “I don’t get why women starve themselves.”

  “Because society is hateful to us if we don’t,” she snapped, not feeling it was really his place to comment. He wasn’t supposed to be here anyway.

  Well, it was really all her fault. She had invited him, insisted he be the one to take her case. She would just have to correct that.

  “Society is stupid,” he said, wiping his mouth.

  She was surprised by the amount of food he’d polished off as he stood, brushing his hands off on a napkin. He stretched and then let out a sigh. Then he turned to her with his typical stare. Vaguely bored, vaguely impatient. He folded his arms.

  “So you want to go back and talk to Bronson, then?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, bra
cing herself for his disapproval.

  “All right. I’ll take you over there.”

  She blinked in surprise as she slid her arms into her jacket. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean we’ll go together. So you’re safe.”

  “But we haven’t even talked about what’s after me,” she said. “How do you even know I’m unsafe at all?”

  “You attacked me with an umbrella,” he said. “You’re obviously scared of something. Or someone.” He opened her front door and let her walk out under his arm, which was easy since it seemed he was twice her size.

  She strode down her front walk, trying to ignore the pounding of his footsteps after her.

  She wondered what kind of car a man like this drove and stopped when she saw a gigantic black truck parked a couple houses down. She sighed.

  Of course.

  “What?” he asked.

  “That yours?” she asked, pointing at it as they headed in that direction.

  “Nah,” he said, scanning the street. He pointed at a car just across from them. A pink convertible. “It’s that one.”

  “Seriously?” Her jaw dropped, and he barked out a laugh.

  “No, of course not seriously. Geez, you’re easy,” he said, walking over to his truck and hitting a button on his remote that unlocked it.

  She opened the door herself and looked up at the high cab. The douche didn’t even have one of those railings that made it easy to step in. She was far from in shape. Her work made that tough. That and the fact that she spent the rest of the time she had on her hobby, which didn’t exactly involve a lot of movement.

  She struggled for a moment and then heard Limes let out a sigh of disapproval and walk over. She felt a rough hand on her backside and gasped as she was pushed easily up into the cab.

  “Hey! You—”

  “Calm down, princess,” Limes said. “I just pushed whatever needed pushing.”

  “Well, from now on, you keep your hands off me,” she said.

  “Fine by me,” he said. He gave her a mean grin. “I’ll get you a stepstool next time.”

  “I don’t need a stool,” she said. “Because I won’t be working with you.”