MUNDO (BBW Bear Shifter MC Romance) (MC Bear Mates Book 2)

by Becca Fanning

  Her body was on fire with need, and she was breathing hard between kisses. He kissed her jaw and she arched her back, offering him her throat. He kissed her there too, and worked his way lower, following the collar of her dress.

  The kissing was good, but she wanted to feel him again, and she brought her body down on his lap once more. He was hard—she could feel it through the jeans and the thin fabric of her panties. The denim was rough, but she rubbed up against him anyway. He pushed his hands along her thighs, pushing her dress up higher and higher.

  There was a knock at the door and she swore.

  “Someone has keys?” he whispered in her ear. His voice was strained with desire and panic.

  “My dad,” she hissed and called, “hold on.” She scrambled off his lap. “Do I look mussed?”

  “Run your hand through your hair, you’ll be fine.”

  She hurried to the door and opened it with a smile. “Dad! I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Am I interrupting?”

  “Business meeting,” she said. “I think you already know Brock.”

  Brock had grabbed a stack of papers and had them on his lap as though he were reading them. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Only by reputation. We’ve never actually met. I’m not staying. I would have just called, but I was driving by so I thought I’d tell you in person. Your mother must cancel for tomorrow. Is next weekend okay?”

  “Should be fine.”

  “Great. I’ll let her know.” He waved and Brock raised a hand in return. Then he was gone.

  Gia leaned against the door, the strength going out of her knees. When she heard the familiar ding of the elevator down the hall, she said, “Well shit, that was close.”

  Brock was coming toward her.

  If he kisses me I’m done for.

  “I should go. We’ll finish this at the office on Monday.”

  “This?” she squeaked.

  “The paperwork.”

  “Right.” She exhaled heavily. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Gia, when Marsha comes back, you’re mine. So, don’t even think about running.”

  She just nodded and stepped away from the door. When he was gone, she said to no one in particular, “That was so stupid.”

  Chapter 11

  When Brock arrived at work Monday morning, he found the paperwork from Gia’s apartment spread over his desk. Gia wasn’t in her office, but the paperwork—and the fact that her coffee perk was going—told him she was in the building somewhere. He settled in to review the papers she had left him. When she bustled back in she started into business without even pausing for a hello.

  “I just got back from roads.” They were both still learning the names of everyone they worked with and which job they did so they often referred to people by their jobs instead of by their names. “They can bump back the follow-up meeting until next week, which means I just filled that open afternoon next Thursday.”

  “Good morning,” he said. “Why are we moving the roads follow-up?”

  “Officer Jameson called this morning. We both have to go down to the station to answer some more questions.”

  “Why?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you watch the news?”

  “I stopped around the time I started making headlines. Why? What did I miss?”

  “The Human Order is getting bolder and has appeared in three or four cities already. There were two other attacks that they suspect are linked, but The Human Order hasn’t taken responsibility for them yet.”

  “Attacks? There aren’t a lot of shifters who came out to the public. Who did they attack?”

  “Shifters. They aren’t out to the public, but that doesn’t mean that no one knows who they are.”

  Stephanie. She was quick to out me to the media. How many ex-spouses are going public? Or going to their local Human Order chat room?

  “When do we meet Officer Jameson?”

  “In an hour. And I wrote this for you.” She tapped a few buttons and handed him the tablet.

  Press Release – Mayor Brock Tandell of New Orleans

  Shifters have peacefully co-existed with humans for centuries. The Human Order are terrorists—they have proved that with their recent attacks. The shifters they are attacking are legal citizens of the United States of America and deserve to have their basic rights respected, including rights of privacy and security. The fact that humans have been injured in these attacks further proves that The Human Order doesn’t care about the humans they claim to be protecting. I do not want to see any more of these attacks on the news and do not want to witness any more firsthand. I do not want to see anyone injured or worse—not shifters and not humans.

  Brock read the release twice and then whistled. “Wow, you don’t pull any punches. This is strong. Send it out, and then we’ll get down to the station.”

  “I didn’t think they’d need to speak to us again.”

  “I did. Print off any emails you’ve received that sound like The Human Order. We’ll want to bring those with us. We did promise to cooperate.”

  Officer Jameson met them at the door and escorted them into an interrogation room. “I hope we’re not under investigation for something,” Brock said, looking around.

  “No, you’re not, but I don’t have an office and the conference rooms were booked, so unless you want to have this conversation at my desk with ten other desks right there in the open …”

  “This is fine,” Brock said. “Just wanted to know where we stood.”

  “Six attacks nationwide. Plus, the attack here. And that’s in less than a week. We don’t think they’ll slow down.”

  “If anything, they’ll pick up momentum. The shifter community is almost completely incapable of defending itself against this kind of attack. We are bound by our own laws to do no harm to humans on penalty of death. Our safety is in the hands of humans in this case.”

  “You can’t even defend yourself?”

  “Only if I stay in human form. I’ll talk to the clans, but I doubt they’ll lift the order, not even for cases of self-defense. You saw Jules as a bear. How many unarmed men would make a fair fight for that? How many men with side arms would be needed to take him down? And how quickly do you think photos of that attack would get circulated with misleading captions? Who would believe the beast was the victim? How many would flock to the Human Order’s banner with that sort of “proof” of our bestial nature?”

  Jameson turned his attention to Gia. “The file folder you have there, emails?”

  Gia nodded.

  “Is this all of them?”

  “As of thirty minutes ago,”

  “I’ll pass them along to the team. I will need you to forward the originals to the tech team. Actually, it would be more helpful if we had access to the account.”

  “There’s nothing we need to hide on that account,” Brock said. “So far, my private account hasn’t had any threatening activity.”

  “That’s good to hear, but don’t expect your good fortune to last.”

  “Was there anything else?”

  “How many shifters do you personally know or whose existence you know of?”

  Brock leaned back and let the names and faces drift through his mind so he could tally them. “Five in my clan. Three of the local pack, but I know they have twelve or thirteen members total. One former member of my clan who moved away. That famous actor. The clan leader from Houston, the clan leader from Baton Rouge, and the pack alpha from Houston. I have an uncle who’s a shifter in New York. That’s what? Fifteen?”

  “And you know for a fact that there are eighteen or nineteen shifters in New Orleans?”

  “Adult shifters, yes. The shifting doesn’t kick in until kids are ten or so. A few of the pack members have young kids who may or may not turn out to be shifters, or who may be shifters but whom I haven’t met or heard of yet.”

  “Do you recognize these names?” Jameson pulled out a sh
eet of paper and read off six names.

  With each name that was strange Brock relaxed a little more. “Sorry, they are all strange to me. I can tell you that there are multiple small clans and packs in each state, and each clan or pack has at least five or six members. I believe there’s a wolf pack of over thirty members somewhere in the mountains, and the largest bear clan is in Colorado with twenty members.”

  “So, there’s two-hundred, maybe three-hundred, shifters in the whole country.”

  “Certainly, no more than five hundred, by my best guess,” Brock agreed. “Another five hundred in Canada, per one of my clanmates who moved from up there. Another thousand, maybe thousand and a half, across much of Europe—and another thousand in Russia. I don’t know about Asia. The numbers are significantly lower in Africa but about the same in Australia as they are here.”

  “So, we’re talking a global population of under ten thousand people.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck. You do know you qualify as an endangered species, right?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that. Could we take these numbers to a conservation board and make the actions of the Human Order twice as illegal?”

  “If you did that, the United Nations might take away your human rights. Are you humans with a genetic disorder or are you a separate species?”

  “Good point. We have a rare genetic condition that affects one in every seven-hundred thousand people worldwide. Hunting us is like hunting autistic people.”

  “That’s a better angle for you to take, and for us too. If you’re not human, it changes which laws apply to you, as victims, as citizens, and as perps.”

  “I don’t want to make your life complicated. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “I just have a few questions for Miss Carosa.”

  “Me? I’m afraid I know almost nothing about the shifters. You probably know more than I do.”

  “How’s your arm?”

  “A little tender. I can’t take the bandages off for a few more weeks yet, except to clean it.”

  “I’m glad you weren’t more seriously hurt. Are you related to Giancarlo Carosa?”

  “Yes, he’s my father.”

  Jameson nodded and made a note in the file in front of him. “You used to work for him?”

  “Yes, I was his administrative assistant for years.”

  “Why did you leave Carosa Holdings?”

  “To gain more work experience. I plan to return after a few years with other companies.”

  “How did you end up working for Brock here?”

  “My father heard about the job and talked to someone at City Hall on my behalf. He seemed to think that working in politics would teach me some important business skills.”

  “Thank you. I think that’s everything for now. We are running a lot of information between stations right now, and we are trying to get ahead of these guys, but I have to stress how important it is that you both be very careful for the next little while.”

  “We will be,” Brock said. “Come on, Gia. We have a full day of meetings ahead of us.”

  She nodded and followed him back out to his car. He pulled out onto the street and headed back to City Hall.

  “Why are they asking about me and my dad?” she said.

  “I don’t know. How often do you talk to your dad?”

  “We had lunch or supper together twice last week. He called and asked me to have lunch with him tomorrow, and we’re having a family dinner on Sunday. Why?”

  He shrugged. “I think it would be best if you didn’t tell him the police were asking about him, at least until we know why. It may have nothing to do with Human Order.”

  “You want me to lie to my dad?”

  “Do you tell your dad everything?” Out of the corner of his eye he could see her blushing.

  “No,” she mumbled. “I don’t.”

  “Don’t lie—just don’t tell him yet. The police will talk to him as soon as they’re ready to. They’re probably just getting all their facts and names in order so nothing catches them by surprise.”

  “Okay. I hope you’re right about this.”

  Gia was chewing on her lower lip as she rode up in the elevator. It was Tuesday and she was on her way up to lunch with her dad. For a change, he was waiting for her, leaning in the open doorway of his office. When he saw, her coming toward him he pointed and bellowed, “You! You told him about the yellowtail cru!” Everyone turned to look at him. “How did he get them to box it up to go?”

  “I don’t know. He wasn’t even sure they’d do it. I take it you had a nice lunch yesterday?”

  Giancarlo laughed. “Best damn fish I ever ate. Food tastes best when a rich man buys it for you.”

  “That must be why I enjoy lunch with you so much.”

  They went into his office where containers of Chinese takeout sat on the low table in front of the couch.

  “Things must be busy at work if you’re working at home on the weekends,” he said. “Help yourself. I think I got too much.”

  “Way too much,” she agreed. “But it smells great. I was just trying to get caught up, really. It’s a bit of a learning curve for me. I found something interesting and texted Brock about it, so he came by to take a look and confirm that I was reading things right. Looks like we found some useful funds.”

  “Nothing quite so exciting as money—especially when it’s someone else’s money. I saw the news. How is Brock handling the attacks?”

  “He’s taken a strong stance against them, of course. He’s stressing that The Human Order is hurting humans and that shifters are really just humans with a genetic condition. We did the math today,” she said, leaving Officer Jameson out of the conversation. “It affects roughly one person in seven hundred thousand. Of course, those affected are closely linked to each other. There’s a forty percent chance of a child being a shifter if they have one shifter parent and ninety percent if both parents are shifters. It’s somewhere in between if one is a shifter and one isn’t but has shifter blood in the family, and it’s lower than a one percent chance of two humans having a shifter child. The recessive gene is very recessive.”

  “If it’s genetic, could they stop it altogether? Or use selective breeding to increase their numbers?”

  She laughed. “Dad, they’re human. That’s like asking if the Irish will start a selective breeding program to increase the number of gingers in North America.”

  “That’s true. What was I thinking? More rice?”

  “No, but I’ll take more of that ginger pork. You know I’m going to have to jog back to City Hall just to burn these calories.”

  “Nothing wrong with your weight. So what does this strong stance include?”

  “Harsh words,” Gia said. “He’s a mayor, not a senator. If you want action, look to the president. Brock’s hands are tied because nothing else is happening in New Orleans.” Again, she left out their visit to the police station. It felt strange, lying by omission, but Brock was right. She wasn’t going to tell her father about kissing Brock, so why tell him about the police?