Page 27 of Guard Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #5)

Chapter

Twenty-Five

Andre's full weight slammed into Prescott, driving the man into the ground.

They tumbled across the grass in a tangle of limbs and torn fabric.

The laptop bag flew from Prescott's grip, its zipper bursting on impact.

Papers exploded into the rotor wash, financial documents and building plans whirling through the air like snow.

Prescott's screams came high and terrified, the sound of a man who'd never faced real consequences. His expensive suit tore at the shoulder seam, grass stains spreading across the Italian wool. The sound satisfied something primal in Andre's chest.

He forced the change, his bear receding with reluctance.

The cool night air hit his naked skin, raising goosebumps along his arms and back.

Prescott scrambled on his hands and knees toward the helicopter, designer shoes slipping on wet grass.

Andre's hand closed around his ankle, fingers digging into soft flesh above the leather.

"No!" Prescott clawed at the ground as Andre dragged him back. "You can't! Do you know who I am?"

Andre flipped him onto his back. His knee planted on Prescott's chest, weight distributed to control without crushing. The position was textbook, drilled into muscle memory through years of training.

"Jason Prescott, you're under arrest." The words came out steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Conspiracy, arson, racketeering, attempted murder."

Prescott's face turned purple with rage. "You're nothing! Animals! Beasts!" Spittle flew with each word. "My grandfather built an empire! You've squatted on our land for fifty years!"

Movement caught Andre's eye. Joy had shifted back, her naked form moving with focused determination as she gathered the scattered papers. Financial documents floated like ghosts in the helicopter's dying rotor wash. She snatched them from the air, building a stack of evidence.

The helicopter's rotors slowed, engine powering down. The pilot's hands rose, visible and empty through the cockpit glass.

"I'm just hired transport, officer." His voice carried clearly in the sudden quiet. "I don't know anything about his business."

"Don't move," Andre ordered. The man's careful compliance spoke of someone who knew when to cut losses. No loyalty to Prescott's money now.

Headlights crested the hill. Relief flooded through Andre as Heath's SUV led two patrol cars onto the airstrip. The cavalry had arrived. Gabriel stepped out first. Heath followed, moving to the rear of his vehicle.

"Thought you might need these." Heath pulled clothes from a duffel bag. Jeans and t-shirts, the spare sets they'd learned to keep on hand. He tossed them over, careful not to look directly at Joy.

Andre caught his clothes one-handed, keeping his knee planted on Prescott. The shirt was too tight across the shoulders, but it covered what needed covering. He heard Joy moving behind him, the whisper of denim against skin as she dressed.

Gabriel approached with cuffs, his detective's eye taking in the scene. Evidence was scattered across the grass. The suspect was controlled but still raging.

"This was supposed to be mine!" Prescott writhed beneath Andre's weight. "Three generations of planning! You animals took everything!"

The metal cuffs clicked closed around his wrists. The sound had a finality that made Andre's chest loosen. Justice was being properly served at last.

Gabriel hauled Prescott upright. Andre stood, muscles protesting the sudden movement. The adrenaline was fading, leaving exhaustion in its wake. Joy appeared at his elbow, dressed now in Heath's spare clothes that hung loose on her smaller frame.

Together they watched Gabriel guide Prescott toward the patrol car. The man who'd burned Joy's hives, who'd orchestrated attacks on their entire community, reduced to stumbling in cuffs while his empire crumbled around him.