Connor (Strauss Bear Shifter Brothers 0f Colorado Book 4)

by Brittany White

  “I’m going to take them from you Brooke; you don’t deserve them.”

  “And they don’t deserve you.”

  He grinned maliciously, showing too many teeth. “You know what the first thing I’m going to do once you’re nothing more than a shrivelled up husk? I’m going to take your precious Connor’s lodge and I’m going to kill every last bear within its walls.”

  The door slammed shut behind him and Brooke was left in the dark and the damp, heart beating wildly behind her ribs. The ritual would take a day to prepare, if she was remembering her history correctly. That wasn’t a lot of time; she had maybe twelve hours before Vince and the pack would come back. Twelve hours, at the most, to escape and find her way back to Connor to warn him.

  God, she hoped it would be enough time.

  Brooke tested the rope binding her hands, trying to find a weak spot. She contorted her wrists, ignoring the rope burn as she pulled and twisted until… there! There was the slightest give around her right wrist, the rope was fraying slightly. She grinned.

  It would take time to ease the rope apart, but it was hope, at least.

  20

  Connor

  After the meeting with the pack, Connor and his brothers sat down in his office with several bottles of whiskey and talked about their half of the truce. Connor knew it was ultimately he who had the final say on what they did, but he still wanted their support, and they were willing to give it.

  Cody had been the hardest. Eric had a bleeding heart and Nathan was willing to help anyone that he thought deserved it, but Cody had been more worked up about the pack’s being on their territory than even Connor himself. At one point he simply got up, told them he was going for a run, and left. He’d returned an hour later having killed three bobcats and claimed he was feeling ‘much better.’

  “Do we really have to give them that much up front?” Nathan asked, glancing over Eric’s shoulder as he went through their accounts. Connor nodded, remembering the way Brooke had described the apartments they all shared. He repeated the story back to them and Nathan grimaced. “Oh, Christ,” he had said. “That place is a shithole, man. Get them out of there.”

  At some point they had been joined by Jessie, Lydia and Alanna, who all wanted to know more about Brooke.

  “We don’t know each other that well,” he lied. He and Brooke had agreed not to tell anyone about the two of them, and he’d be damned if he would break that promise.

  “Bullshit,” Cody snorted from the other side of the room. “The way you reacted when you thought she had been attacked suggested you know each other very well.”

  Connor flipped his brother off as he wagged his eyebrows, turning back to the giggling girls.

  “Let’s hope she can cook,” Alanna teased. “‘Coz you’re terrible at it.”

  “I don’t need to be good at cooking. I have a brother to bully into doing it for me.” Connor smiled serenely while the girls dissolved into laughter, and it was Cody’s turn to flip him the bird.

  “Well, it’ll be nice to have another woman around, anyway. She can help try to keep you four under control.”

  “Oh, no,” he said proudly; his smile widening into a dopey grin. “She might be the only person I’ve ever met that's more stubborn than I am.”

  All of them groaned and Connor laughed with delight.

  By the time they'd settled on their half of the truce, it was sometime after two in the morning and Connor dragged himself to bed, wishing Brooke was there to curl up beside him.

  It was lunchtime by the time Connor managed to slip out to visit Cole Couture. The perks of being the owner of a successful ski resort, he thought sarcastically. It seemed like every single guest needed him for something, be it a leaking pipe or not enough hot towels in their rooms. Usually, he was happy to help, if a little irritated when they treated tiny problems like the end of the world, but today he was eager to see Brooke.

  The bell above the door tinkled loudly and Connor opened his mouth, a witty comment on the tip of his tongue, but Brooke wasn’t at the counter. Instead, Elsie blinked owlishly up at him. There were a few customers browsing the racks and Elsie had her phone in her hands, obviously scrolling absently while she waited for someone to make a decision. When she caught Connor’s eyes she hurriedly pocketed the phone with a sheepish smile. If he wasn’t so confused, Connor would have laughed.

  He liked Elsie. She was an older shifter with a bright smile and brighter clothes, but something kept nagging at the back of his head. Where was Brooke?

  “Afternoon, Elsie. Didn’t think you’d still be here, don’t you usually go home after lunch?”

  “Hello to you too, dear,” she chirped. “Usually, yes, but Brooke didn’t come in today and I figured someone needed to be here.” Her smile was teasing. Connor frowned.

  “Is she okay? Did she say anything?”

  Elsie’s smile soured a little, worry causing small furrows between her brows.

  “She didn’t come in this morning… but the poor dear hasn’t had a day off in a long time and, well, I don’t have anything else to be doing - just rattling around in my cabin - so I didn’t want to bother her.” She looked up at him, worry starting to creep into her expression. “Why? Has something happened?”

  Connor gave her his best reassuring smile, hiding his true emotions with the skill only a seasoned business owner could achieve. “I’m sure she’s fine, I just needed to talk to her. I don’t suppose you have her number?” He was probably overreacting but something was telling him he needed to make sure she was alright. Elsie scribbled the number down on the back of some receipt paper and handed it over. I can’t believe I never got her number, he thought, taking the paper. It’s ridiculous, I feel like I’m doing this whole thing ass backwards. Still, despite his efforts to shake it off, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, you never needed her number. You’ve always known where to find her... until now.

  A customer was approaching the counter, so Connor left Elsie to it with a smile and stood outside, saving the number to his phone and dialling.

  No one picked up. The feeling of dread increased tenfold, a suffocating weight pressing on his lungs. Connor hung up, not bothering to leave a voicemail, and went back to his office.

  “So why do you need me to find Brooke’s employee file?” Eric asked, pulling his seat closer to the desk and opening up his laptop.

  “Don’t be cute, you know why,” Connor replied, leaning over his shoulder to look at the screen. Eric had changed his background to a picture of him and Lydia, hands clasped, with huge smiles on their faces. Connor fought the urge to coo and ruffle Eric’s hair.

  “I really need to teach you guys about technology,” Eric grumbled. “Seriously, though, if you want to know something about her why don’t you just ask? That’s what normal people do.”

  “I can’t get a hold of her,” Connor responded in what he had hoped would be a patient manner, but just ended up sounding tense, scanning over the names as Eric scrolled through the database. “She won’t pick up her phone and I’ve never been to her place, so I’m not sure of her address.”

  Eric must have picked up on the rising panic in his tone because he stopped scrolling to look up at him. “Connor, what’s going on?”

  Connor hesitated, then told him about Vince and the fact that he’d challenged Brooke’s leadership.

  “I thought the meeting would straighten everything out but,” he sighed. She’d asked him to go and see her at work. She would have told him if she wasn’t coming in. He was sure of it. “I just feel like something might have happened to her. Call it a gut feeling.”

  Eric turned back to the laptop and continued scrolling. “Well, I think you should follow your gut; it always worked for the rest of us.” Connor looked at the back of Eric’s head, infinitely grateful to have his trust.

  “Thank you, little brother.”

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t get all soppy on me now… aha. Found it.”

  They both le
aned in close as Eric clicked on Brooke’s picture. She was smiling into the camera but there was a tension to her shoulders that Connor realized she’d always had until just a few days ago - like she was carrying a huge weight with her everywhere she went. He shook off the sad feeling that settled in his chest and found what he was looking for a few lines down: Brooke’s emergency contacts. Carlo was listed as her first emergency number. There was an address.

  Eric hit print and closed the laptop.

  “Need back up?” he asked.

  Connor shook his head, “I should be fine, but I’ll keep you updated.”

  Eric nodded, “Okay. Be careful, Connor.”

  “Always am.” He gave his brother a salute as he left his office. Eric snorted.

  The renovated motel now apartment block where Brooke and her pack lived was a rundown shithole. The buildings were crowded in together and looked like they were one rainstorm away from falling over. Connor pulled over and paused for a long moment, looking at the dilapidated complex with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He should have done something sooner, there had to be some kind of law against people living somewhere that smelled this much like mold.

  The front courtyard was empty and he couldn’t hear a single sound as he made his way up and down the front of the buildings, searching for Carlo’s address.

  He eventually found it, mounting the rickety stone steps and pressing the doorbell, wincing at the shrill sound that shattered the silence.

  Please answer the door, please answer the door, please answer the-

  The door swung open and a young man, maybe nineteen years old, with dark curly hair and dressed in scruffy jeans, peered out at him.

  It was Carlo. He looked as bad as Connor felt, with dark circles under his eyes, and he visibly deflated when he saw it was Connor at the door. Connor’s shoulders slumped, his final shred of hope that Brooke was safe disappeared from his heart.

  “She’s not here,” Connor murmured. Carlo licked his lips and shook his head. Over his shoulder, Connor caught sight of several other people, peeking out from doorways and through stair banisters but shrinking back when their eyes met. They were scared of him, or at least wary. Connor instantly took a step back, trying to make himself seem smaller and less imposing. Their stares made him uncomfortable. He found that he didn’t want them to be afraid of him.

  Carlo saw his discomfort and stepped outside, pulling the door to and blocking out the anxious stares of the shifters within.

  “She never came back after the meeting. I figured, I mean, I hoped that she was with you, but here you are.” He kept his voice quiet, probably to avoid panicking the rest of the pack lingering in the apartment behind him. “Which means neither of us knows where she is.”

  “I was supposed to meet her at Cole’s, but her co-worker said she didn’t come into work,” Connor agreed. Carlo’s expression darkened and he started pacing the length of the front step, hands worrying through his hair. Connor watched him, his own thoughts moving a mile a minute.

  If she wasn’t at her apartment and she wasn’t at the lodge then where would she have gone? There’s no way she would have disappeared. Not without telling him, or Carlo, at the very least. Unless…

  “Where’s Vince?” Connor asked, voice low and dangerous.

  Carlo stopped pacing, scowling at the name. “He didn’t come back either. Good riddance to him…” He paused, eyes wide as Connor’s meaning sunk in. “Oh God, Brooke.”

  A cold dread washed through Connor’s body. This was bad.

  Vince had her. Connor pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialling Eric’s number and pressing the receiver to his ear, “Come on come on-”

  “Connor? What’s-”

  “Eric, get the others,” Connor ordered. “We’re gonna need that back up.”

  21

  Brooke

  Brooke spent the whole night tugging at the ropes that bound her hands, her wrists chafing. She had begun to feel the hot sticky wetness of blood hours ago, the burn agonizing, but she continued. Her legs had long since fallen asleep, occasionally buzzing with pins and needles as she worked. The moon rose higher and the early pre-dawn morning began. The weak light revealed more of the cabin she was trapped in.

  It really was a shithole. The floor creaked and groaned every time the wind whistled through the gaping holes that littered the walls and ceiling. The room itself was probably quite cosy once; there was a fireplace on the back wall, currently covered in spiderwebs and dust, but Brooke could still picture it all lit up and throwing warmth around the large room while a family sat together, or maybe while a couple fucked lazily on a couch… God, she missed Connor.

  She tested the ropes again, making a small sound of satisfaction when she found she could rub her wrists together like she was trying to start a fire. The blood was actually useful, helping the rope slip over her skin. Almost there.

  They must have been using this place long before they brought me here, she thought. Even with the state of the place, there were tell-tale signs left behind by its recent inhabitants: beer bottles and take out cartons were piled high to one side - still reeking as the leftover food festered and mixed with the pungent stench of stale beer.

  She listened intently as she continued working at her bindings, but the place was completely silent save for the far off river and the birds singing in the early morning light. They must have figured she was no longer a threat and left her on her own.

  The ropes fell to the floor. Jackpot.

  Brooke pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, staggering as blood rushed back into her legs and wincing at the numbness in her toes. She tried to rub the feeling back into her wrists. Beneath the blood were deep gashes and friction burns where the ropes had repeatedly dug into her skin.

  Brooke took her time, feeling out her injuries. She was tired and hungry, her head was still pounding from where she’d been hit, and her ankles and wrists felt like they were on fire but apart from that she seemed to be fine. Satisfied she wasn’t going to bleed out anytime soon, she took a few stumbling steps to the front door. It was locked, obviously, but the wood was rotten around the edges and Brooke was confident that with a few strong kicks, it wouldn’t pose much of a problem.

  Problem was, with her legs as they were, Brooke doubted she had many strong kicks in her. She considered throwing herself against the wood, using her body as a battering ram, but she needed to be functional enough to get away afterwards. She cast her eyes over the cabin’s interior, searching. She needed something to dull the pain.

  There was another door at the back of the room that led to what probably used to be a bedroom. Brooke checked it out. Lines of herbs and dried flowers hung from the ceiling on strings that swung in the breeze from the hole in the corner of the roof. The walls were the same dark wood as the rest of the cabin, but it was almost entirely covered in scribblings and notes - chalk diagrams underneath scraps of paper pinned haphazardly across one another. It looked like a scene from a bad indie horror movie. It had to be the witch’s room.

  Brooke checked the bundles carefully, giving most of them a wide berth. They smelled… wrong… like something natural taken and perverted for something it was never intended to be a part of. Brooke had never understood magic, but she knew enough to be on her guard. There were probably hundreds of things in this room that could kill her if she got too close.

  Her gaze caught a string of red peppers and hurried over to them, pulling one down. She could vaguely remember Angela telling her once that there was a natural pain relief found in capsaicin in chili peppers. She carefully dug her fingernails into the skin of the pepper and pulled it apart. She felt ridiculous, rubbing a split apart pepper onto the gashes in her wrists and even more stupid when the pain flared rather than receded but, after a minute or two of breathing through clenched teeth, the pain did start to fade some. Progress. She had to remember not to touch her face until she’d found something to wash her hands; it was no use numbing her wrists if she was blind
.

  She looked once more at the witches' workroom. Freaky fucking voodoo room, more like. It looked like it had been set up months ago - had Vince really been planning this for that long? Connor and his sleuth must not even know about this place, she thought, worry churning her gut and mixing with another stab of betrayal.

  Connor.

  Vince’s words from the night before flooded over her. He was going to attack the lodge, with over half her pack at his side and ready for battle. It would be a bloodbath if Brooke didn’t warn them. A new sense of protective fury welled up within her - Connor was her mate now, even if he could never see her as his, even if her pack would never accept it. She knew it in her heart, this pull to protect him and be protected in return.

  There’s no way she could stand by and watch him and everything he cared about be destroyed.

  Brooke headed back to the entrance on sore but determined legs and faced the door. It took two swift kicks for the wood to cave and fresh sunlight spilled across her face as she stepped outside. She followed the sounds of the river, until she stumbled upon the stream where she and Connor had sex. She wasn’t far from the lodge at all. Bless Vince for being such a fucking moron.

  Her wolf screamed at her to get to Connor as soon as possible but she knew she had to try to settle this herself. The only way she was going to earn back her right to be alpha was to prove she had what it took to take Vince down, prove she was the better protector, the better provider. She just prayed there was still some of a pack left to help her.

  She moved on instinct, shifting in order to run faster, and raced down the mountain until she reached the apartment complex. She stood, panting heavily in the parking lot, trembling faintly. What if no one was there to stand by her side? What if Vince had gotten here before her, taking the last of her family for himself?