Alpha Bear Protector (Awakened Shifters Book 1)

by Keri Hudson

Marcus nodded. “Wolves, though. Lupine, not ursine.”

  “Ursine, meaning… bear… bearish?”

  “Close enough. Anyway, the swamps are crawling with them.”

  “Wolves… in the swamp?”

  Marcus shrugged. “Settled here generations ago, terrorized the locals. I was en route to Texas but wound up, well, keeping the population at bay.”

  Sabrina was clearly thinking about it, nodding slowly. “That explains the name. Marcus Reilly, not very Cajun.”

  “No, but they know me by another name: Le dieu des marais, the god of the swamps. They know about the wolves, that I protect them… when I can.”

  After a long, sad pause, Sabrina asked, “And when you can’t?”

  Marcus sat there in the long, lingering silence. “Anyway, we have to find a way to get you out of the state.”

  “Can’t we just get to the nearest police station?”

  “With your friend’s body all shot up? They’ll tie you up in an investigation that’ll last forever. And I’m not at all sure there aren’t a few shifters on the job too. In Houma, anyway.”

  “That would explain why the pickup truck was never discovered,” Sabrina deduced. “It would explain a few things, actually.”

  “Yeah, so that’s no good. You’ve got friends you can call, wire some money?”

  “Well, sure, I guess. But I do have my wallet, credit cards.”

  “Good. I’ll get you back to Houma, get you on a plane.”

  “And my friend, and his sister?” Marcus just shook his head, and Sabrina said, “No, that’s… that’s not right. How many other girls are just going to… to be kidnapped and raped? What if she’s still alive?”

  “I’ll look into it as soon as you’re safely away.”

  That notion seemed to sink in, but it seemed to vanish just as quickly. “No, that’s not right either. I… I was Kathy’s friend! In a way, I feel like I’m responsible.”

  “How? Being acquainted with a person hardly makes you their keeper.”

  “It certainly doesn’t make you her keeper.”

  After a thoughtful pause, Marcus answered, “I have other reasons. I’m the peace here, Sabrina, I’m the law in these swamps. Lawbreakers have to pay the price.”

  “Okay, then, I’ll help you. We’ll bring ‘em down together.”

  “Bring ‘em down? You really do watch too many movies.”

  After a frustrating silence, Sabrina said, “After all the time it’ll take to put me on a plane, she could be in worse and worse trouble. There’s no time to see me off!” Marcus thought about it, but before he could answer she added, “You’ll need my help anyway; I know what she looks like, and I’ve got the credit cards. You’ll need some reasonable clothes, and so will I.”

  Marcus didn’t want to have to admit it, but she had him in a corner and she seemed to know it.

  “All right,” Marcus said, “you get cleaned up and we’ll head into town.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  It took hours to walk into Houma, and Marcus was impressed that Sabrina barely complained at all. No whining about her feet, about her tired legs, about being hungry or thirsty. Sabrina was a strong soldier, at least on the march; Marcus was glad to see it. He knew it could mean the difference between life and death—hers and perhaps even his.

  Once in town, she used her mud-caked but still usable credit cards, in a wallet tucked into her shorts, to buy new clothes for them both. She looked good in a free-flowing summer dress, loose on her shapely figure, comfortable in the Southern spring. Marcus felt uncomfortable in the dockers and shirts, short-sleeved with button fronts, light enough to keep him from feeling constrained.

  “You look good,” she said with a little smile.

  “I feel like a dress-up doll.”

  “Maybe you’ve been in the swamp too long.” Looking at her gorgeous body—compact and strong, without a speck of fat but still soft and welcoming, graceful—he couldn’t help but think she might be right.

  The small-town streets of Houma’s Old Town district and aging colonial buildings gave it a languid quality. Cars rolled down the streets, used parts creaking and clanging, dogs collecting around the alleys behind the bakery, the diner, the hotel.

  They stopped at one cafe, sitting at a table in the corner, near the front window. He kept glancing out to the street, where a few pedestrians were walking past in total disinterest. “Let me know if you see anyone you recognize, anyone who might be associated with our two friends back in the bayou.” Sabrina nodded and glanced out the grimy window herself. “You know where she was staying in town?”

  “At the Houma Hilton, but I was already there with Pete. They didn't have anything to say at all, just that she wasn’t there for checkout and that’s it.”

  Marcus gave that some thought. He reviewed their prospects, finally saying, “There’s a place in town, caters to... a certain type. I’ll try there.”

  “You? What about we?”

  "A place like this is too dangerous for you to even step into. Trust me.”

  “And what are you gonna do, leave me standing on a street corner to be scooped up by whoever those two toothless crackers were working with or for?” Marcus wanted to disagree, but the girl’s instincts were as sharp as her wit. Sabrina continued to impress, though what the final result would be, Marcus could only guess; it wasn’t going to be good.

  Marcus took Sabrina to Le Grande Gumbo, a club in the basement of another club accessible from the street. The place was dark and filled with cigarette smoke; men and women and various combinations of both were entwined in whispered conversations, some too busy kissing or nibbling to speak, their mouths filled with things other than words.

  Marcus glanced at Sabrina, not needing to ask, See what I mean?

  Marcus led her to the bar and nodded to the bartender. “Whiskey, two.” The bartender nodded and turned to brandish two shot glasses before filling them with brown liquor. “Lookin’ fer an’ ol’ friend,” Marcus went on, “used to call ‘im Big Jim. S’all’s I know of his name.”

  A hush took over the crowd, conversations silencing and attentions drawn to Marcus and Sabrina. Frail and pale, Sabrina seemed suddenly self-conscious. She grabbed her whiskey and downed it in what was clearly a signal that she was not some helpless waif. Unfortunately, she gagged and coughed on the liquor, struggling to hide her spasm behind Marcus’ strong arm.

  Eyes shifted from one person to the other, the bartender trading glances with several other men in the room.

  One man in the corner said, “Big Jim McCullough? He dead.” The spindly, grimy man had a stooped posture and sweat-stained rags for clothes. “Whole fam’ly kil’t.”

  Marcus said, “Is that so?”

  The man’s toothless grin melted away. “Yer callin’ me a liar, friend?”

  “If I go to the local paper, or the City Hall, there’ll be records of that?”

  “Can’t say,” another man said, his voice low and gruff in contrast to the whiny, high-pitched tone of the other. His body was beefy, his black beard long and graying. “Didn’t nobody come ‘round, house done sunk inna swamp—”

  Marcus asked, “Where is this house?”

  “Said it done sunk inna swamp! Ain’t nowheres now.”

  Marcus looked the man up and down, a mountain of fat and muscle he could climb with little effort. But there was the girl to consider. Both of them, if the other was still alive.

  “All right, then,” Marcus said. “We’ll be on our way.”

  Marcus turned, but the big man said, “Hey!” Marcus turned slowly, and the man slid the untouched shot glass in front of him. “You didn't drink yer drink.”

  Marcus eyed the drink, almost certain it was a trap. “Ain’t thirsty.”

  “Y’ordered it,” the big man said. “Drink it.”

  Marcus glanced around, knowing that it was no matter of the drink. He couldn’t afford to back down, and wasn’t of a mind to anyway. “Now that I think about it, you’re right.
No point wasting a perfectly good drink.” Marcus stepped up to the bar, leaving Sabrina standing alone. He picked up the drink, staring the man dead in the eyes while he raised the shot glass to his lips. Marcus took the drink, dead silence in the room before he clacked the empty glass back down onto the bar.

  Marcus looked around, a wordless challenge that nobody was willing to accept. Marcus walked back to Sabrina and led her out of the bar, saying nothing as they stepped out into the street.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Marcus knew there was little else to do but get a room for the two of them before buying them dinner. Sabrina had made some disturbance about not having separate rooms, but Marcus could see through that soon enough. He settled for one room with two beds, not concerned about which were used and which not.

  The restaurant on the first floor of the hotel had a decent steak, ground pepper crust and medium rare, succulent and juicy. The garlic potatoes were a nice complement, the green beans fresh and crisp and buttery, the Stella Artois a delicious beer to wash it down.

  Sabrina picked at her roasted chicken, rosemary fragrant from her plate, white wine almost untouched.

  “So, you... you really think we made any progress, visiting that place?”

  “As much as possible. I think this Big Jim will show himself. Word gets out.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “It’s our best chance. The thing is to be ready, and to know how to react.”

  “And how do we be ready,” Sabrina asked, “and how do we react?”

  Marcus shrugged, taking another juicy bite of that delicious steak. “We’ll know when it happens.”

  “We’ll—? What kind of answer is that?”

  “The only one I’ve got.” A long, thoughtful silence passed before he went on, “It’s a matter of instinct. Something tells me you’ll do okay.”

  “Like I always have.” After a thoughtful moment, Sabrina went on, “I mean, I grew up as a millennial, which isn’t my fault. But… honestly, I wasn’t raised with this crazed idea about knowing what I was going to do, who I was going to be. It all kind of seemed to fit into place…” Sabrina stared off, shaking her head. “Not my parents’ fault, they worked hard so it would be that way. The American Dream, all that. Grew up in Tennessee ’til my father died, my mom brought me out here… ’til she died. Yeah, everything was just fine… until everything just… fell apart. I was partying, this girl came around one night, then her brother a week later. I mean, what university could have prepared me for that?”

  Marcus glanced around. “Nobody hands you a life, that’s what you mil-whatevers don’t understand. You have to fight for it, you have to earn it. But you’ll learn that soon enough.”

  Sabrina nodded, taking a sip of her white wine. “I’m not disagreeing. Hey, I’m the one who insisted on keeping up with all this. I’m not just running home to swipe right on Tinder or whatever, okay?”

  “I know that,” Marcus said.

  “Then start acting like it.” Sabrina seemed to wait deliberately before taking a bite of her chicken. “Keeping up with all this,” she repeated. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but… you act like you’re… I dunno, you’re lording it over me.”

  “I don’t mean to.”

  “I’m trying to right a wrong here!”

  “As am I.”

  “Then why are we arguing?”

  “I don’t know.” A stilted silence passed before the two had to break into a knowing chuckle. Marcus went on, “Stress, maybe.”

  Sabrina seemed to think about it, then said, “Maybe, yes.” After a moment to think, she added, “I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass.”

  Marcus looked at her, and he could feel his smile melting away. “We’re all fulfilling our function on this Earth, Sabrina; it doesn’t matter what little inconveniences come up. If we love each other, we help each other; otherwise, who will ever love us, who will ever help us?”

  Sabrina seemed to think about it before nodding and raising her glass of wine. “Well, um, here’s to helping each other.”

  Marcus smiled and raised his beer. “And to the rest.”

  “S’cuse me? S’cuse?” Marcus turned to see a small boy, grimy and smelly, standing by his table. Not waiting for Marcus to ask, the boy went on, “You was in’e bar wheres I sweep up, sir, lookin’ for a man, Big Jim?”

  “That’s right,” Sabrina said before Marcus could stop her.

  The boy went on, “You find him in a old farmhouse outside town, overlook da swamps, painted white wif’ black on it.”

  Marcus asked, “Why are you telling me this?” The boy handed out his hand, flat palm up and empty. The boy looked at Marcus, and Marcus back at him. Marcus shook his head, but the boy clasped his hands under his chin as if in prayer.

  But really, he was begging.

  “Who sent you here?”

  The boy shrugged. “I heard, I sweep up, I know! Money, please? Two dollar?”

  Marcus glanced at Sabrina, who seemed to be glowing with a new hope. Marcus sighed, gave the boy a single dollar, and said, “Now get the hell outta here,” before the boy went scurrying off then.

  Sabrina raised her wine glass. “Let’s finish up and go visit that farm.”

  Marcus didn’t have to think about it for long. “I think we should wait out the night, go see the place in the morning.”

  “But… that’s more time they have to run.”

  “They’re not gonna run,” Marcus said, “they’ll be lying in wait.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Not this male-chauvinist crap again,” Sabrina said.

  “I’m just being rational,” Marcus said. “You think the last place was bad? That farm’ll make the bar look like Disneyland.” Sabrina looked around, slipping down a bit in their rented car as it sped down the highway going north, where the boy had pointed. “We’ll put you up in a motel.”

  “And leave me alone?”

  “You’re free and clear of Frankie and Dickie, I think you’d be fine for a few hours.”

  “And what if you don’t come back?”

  Marcus shrugged. “Call the rental car company, report it stolen; you’re insured.”

  She took a moment, clearly to give her options some thought. “It doesn’t seem very fair. You don’t even know my friend’s sister, or Pete… or me, not really.”

  Marcus offered her a little smile. “I know you, maybe better than you think.” He let the moment land before adding, “And I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

  “Well… I don’t want you getting hurt either.”

  “No offense, but the chances of that are a lot better if I go in alone.”

  “You’re always alone, Marcus. It’s time to start being… together.”

  Marcus gave it some thought and nodded. “Starting tomorrow, let’s say.”

  They drove down one curvy stretch of road, and Sabrina’s arm shot out from her side, pale finger pointing. “Marcus, look!”

  Marcus followed her line of sight to a small house on a low hill overlooking the wetlands, white with black trim.

  “Just like the kid said.”

  After a nervous pause, Sabrina said, “Looks pretty creepy, even from here.”

  “Well, this is as close as you’re gonna get.”

  Marcus hit the accelerator and the engine roared, and somehow he knew they could hear it. He gunned it even harder, to make sure.

  They drove another twenty minutes until they found the nearest motel. They checked her in and Marcus took her to the room, small and musty, ratty curtains and dust everywhere. Standing at the door, he said, “Don’t let anybody in. If somebody knocks, say nothing. Leave the curtains closed. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  “Really? That soon, an hour?”

  Marcus said, “Sabrina, they’re humans. And I don't intend to do too much talking.”

  “We have to find Kathy, get her out of there.”

  “If she’s still alive. But at this point I think the best
we can hope for is to stop these maniacs from hurting anybody else. And there’s only one sure way to do that.” After a pause, he said, “Gimme an hour and a half.”

  He turned, but Sabrina grabbed his shirt to stop him. “Sabrina, I’ll be fine.”

  “I… I know, but… I’m still just a little afraid, that’s all.”

  “Stubborn about this too, huh?” He set a comforting hand on each of her upper arms. “The time to be afraid is fast coming to an end. When I come back, all your problems will be over.”

  Marcus left Sabrina at the motel to drive back toward the farmhouse. He knew it was a dangerous distraction, but he could hardly get his mind off Sabrina. He could imagine her in that motel room, alone and waiting for him to arrive. And he could imagine himself coming back, her desperate gratitude, hot and steamy, milky skin so smooth against his.

  No, stop it, he told himself. No matter what you tell yourself, or what you tell her, after this it has to end, and for good. It’s for her own good.

  Marcus peeled off the highway and took a lone road through the wetlands toward the low hill and the farmhouse sitting on it.

  They’ll see me coming, Marcus knew. Unless that kid wasn’t really a setup. Can’t afford to take that for granted.

  So Marcus pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. He popped the trunk and stripped, putting his clothes in and taking his tunic out, slipping it over his head and tying it around his waist.

  Marcus already felt better, more at home as he prowled up the low hill, through the honey locust trees toward the house.

  There was a single guard standing outside the farmhouse in the front, looking around, chewing on a toothpick.

  One guard, he thought. If they know I’m coming, they don’t think much of me. Must be a guard inside the house somewhere, and lots of other men armed and ready. Can’t shift yet, have to find the girl, if she’s here at all—or some trace of her, at least.

  Marcus prowled up to the house and ran to the wall, pressing his back flat as he peered into one window. There were several men, as Marcus expected, but no woman from where he was standing.