Page 3 of Guard Bear (Return To Fate Mountain #5)

Chapter

Two

Grizzly shifter Andre Holt sat across from Police Chief Heath Reynolds.

The map covering the east wall drew his attention.

Red pins clustered across Fate Mountain like drops of blood.

Evidence boxes lined the walls, labeled in black marker: Hampton Orchard.

Wilderness Academy. Fate Mountain Brewery. Fate Mountain Nature Center.

"Welcome to Bear Patrol, Officer Holt. Let me show you what we're dealing with." Heath spread photos across the desk.

Andre leaned forward. His bear stirred, recognizing the threat. Charred fruit trees. Frayed climbing ropes that could have killed someone. Shattered nature displays covered in spray paint.

"The attacks are getting bolder. More destructive,” Heath said.

"Any leads?"

"We've made arrests. Multiple convictions." Heath's jaw tightened. "But they're not talking. Won't say who's backing them. FBI's been brought in to investigate the money trail, but whoever's running this keeps their hands clean."

Heath leaned forward, elbows on the desk.

"These people don't hesitate to hurt anyone who gets in their way.

Fire. Cut ropes. Poisoned water. They're escalating, getting desperate.

" Heath paused, tapping one of the photos.

"We've increased patrols and implemented the Fate Mountain Security Initiative. It’s a joint program between Bear Patrol and veteran volunteers. I want you to coordinate it.”

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Heath pulled out a folder. "Here is a list of at-risk businesses."

Andre flipped through the pages. Names and addresses. Hampton Orchard. Blue Moon Pottery. Mountain Meadow Leather. Timber Bear Ranch.

"Both my kids followed me into law enforcement," Heath mentioned. "Gabriel's a detective now, and Valeria just graduated from the academy. They're around here somewhere if you need backup."

"Good to know," Andre replied.

"Tomorrow we're making an announcement at the farmers market," Heath continued.

"Let everyone know about the increased patrols and the Security Initiative. After that, start your rounds. Visit each property on the list. You’ll be able to make your own schedule, but I need you to make sure they know we're taking this seriously. "

"Understood."

Heath stood, extending his hand. "Welcome to Fate Mountain. I know it's not Portland, but?—"

"It's perfect," Andre said quickly. He shook Heath's hand, felt the careful strength there. "Thank you for the opportunity."

After work, Andre drove through Main Street, taking in the postcard-pretty storefronts with their flower boxes and American flags. Couples strolled hand in hand along the sidewalks. Children played in the town square.

His new apartment sat above Handy's Hardware. He stopped to check the mailbox, grabbed the mail, and made his way up a narrow flight of stairs. The key stuck in the lock. He had to jiggle it twice before the door opened.

The furnished space smelled like lemon cleaner and loneliness. The landlord had tried to make it homey. The place came furnished with a plaid couch that had seen better decades. A dinette set for two, though he'd only need one chair. The bedroom held a queen bed and dresser, nothing more.

Andre finished unpacking. Uniforms in the closet, hung precisely. Bathroom items in the medicine cabinet. The police scanner went on the nightstand, volume low but audible so he'd know if anyone needed help.

Andre set his laptop on the dinette table and powered it on, planning to review the incident files Heath had emailed. While the files loaded, Andre went through the mail. Most of it was addressed to the previous tenant. Some junk mail. And a flyer for a shifter dating website. Mate.com.

"Find your fated mate!" the flyer proclaimed in cheerful pink letters.

The glossy paper felt heavy in his hands. In Portland, he'd been too focused on work to even think about dating. Too consumed by guilt and overtime shifts. But here, in this quiet apartment with its empty second chair, the loneliness pressed against him like a physical weight.

His bear rumbled, restless. It had been quieter in Portland, subdued by routine and exhaustion. But the mountain air had awakened something primal. A need that went deeper than companionship. Andre opened the laptop browser and typed in the website address.

The sign-up form loaded with cheerful graphics of various shifter animals circling a pink heart. He added basic information first. Name: Andre Holt. Age: 32. Shifter type: Grizzly bear. The cursor blinked at the photo upload.

Recent pictures were all official ones. Department headshots. Crime scene documentation. Nothing that said "date me." He scrolled back, found his academy graduation. Young Andre in dress uniform, actually smiling. Before he knew what watching someone's back really cost.

He clicked upload and moved to the next screen. "Our personality questionnaire helps us find your perfect match!"

After several innocuous questions, he came to one that made him pause. "If you were a vegetable, what would you be?"

Andre stared at the screen. The options ranged from whimsical to bizarre. Carrot (grounded and reliable). Broccoli (strong and protective). Tomato (technically a fruit, but passionate). He clicked broccoli. His bear approved. Strong. Sturdy. Good for protecting.

The quiz continued with multiple choice options that grew increasingly specific.

"What hobbies bring you joy? Select all that apply."

The list was extensive. Andre scrolled through options like "Extreme sports" and "Wine tasting" before finding ones that fit. He checked: Baking. Teaching/mentoring youth. His bear rumbled approval at the baking selection. Creating something warm and comforting, that was good.

"How do you serve your community?"

Options included everything from "Political activism" to "Anonymous donations." Andre selected: Safety education programs. Volunteer work with at-risk teens.

"What do you value most in a relationship?"

This one was easier. He clicked: Safety and security. Loyalty. Trust. The option for "Adventure and spontaneity" remained unchecked.

"Describe your ideal first date:"

Four options appeared: Adrenaline rush—Skydiving or bungee jumping. Cozy night in with movies and homemade dinner. Coffee and conversation in a public place. Dancing until dawn at the hottest club.

Andre clicked the coffee option without hesitation. Public. Safe. Easy exits.

"What are you looking for in a mate?"

The final question offered a range from "Someone to protect and cherish" to "An independent equal who challenges me" to "A wild spirit who keeps me guessing."

His finger hovered over the options. Back in Portland, he might have chosen differently. But his bear knew what it wanted. Someone to protect and cherish. He clicked it.

A text box appeared: "Tell us a bit about yourself!”

Andre typed quickly: "Former Portland PD, now with Fate Mountain Bear Patrol. Looking for something real. I believe in keeping the people I care about safe."

Submit.

The screen flashed with animated hearts. "Calculating your perfect match!"

Andre had heard about mate.com's reputation. Every shifter knew someone who'd found their fated mate through the site. But he'd always been too busy, too focused on the job.

"Congratulations! We've found your fated mate."

The profile loaded. Username: Honey Lion

The photo struck him like a physical blow. A woman laughing in sunlight, surrounded by beehives. Her hair caught the light, dark with golden highlights like honey itself. Eyes that sparkled with genuine joy. She looked so alive it made his chest hurt.

His bear exploded. MATE. The word came with absolute certainty. Andre gripped the table edge to keep his hands from shaking.

He read her profile with desperate attention.

First name: Joy. Shifter type: Mountain Lion.

Age: 30. Occupation: Artisan business owner.

“I love working with my hands and creating beautiful things.” Location: Oregon mountains.

His heart sank. That could mean anywhere in the state.

Hundreds of small towns scattered across thousands of miles.

The green message button pulsed at the bottom of her profile. One click and he could reach out. One click and everything would change. His bear didn't hesitate. Neither did his fingers.

"Hi Joy, I'm Andre. I just moved to Fate Mountain to work with Bear Patrol. I see we matched at 100%... I'd love to meet you and learn more about your artisan business. Would you like to chat?"

He read it five times. Professional but friendly. He acknowledged the match without seeming obsessed. And he didn't mention that his bear was currently trying to claw its way out of his skin.

Send.

The message disappeared into the void. Andre stared at the screen, waiting for the read receipt. Nothing. He refreshed. Still nothing.

One minute. Five. Ten. Refresh.

Maybe her phone was off. Maybe she was working.

Andre stood, unable to sit still. His apartment was twelve paces wide.

He knew because he counted. Twelve paces while refreshing the app.

Twelve paces while his bear demanded action.

He tried to focus on tomorrow's announcement. He then spread the map of patrol routes on his table and marked the addresses from Chief Reynold’s list. But his eyes kept drifting to his phone.

Refresh. Still no response.

He pulled up her profile again. Studied the photo like evidence. Behind her, mountains rose green and misty. The same mountains visible from his window. His breath caught. Could she be here? In Fate Mountain?

No. Oregon had countless mountain towns. The Cascades stretched for hundreds of miles. But still... his bear rumbled with hope.

"Love working with my hands and creating beautiful things,” her profile said.

His bear wanted to know everything. Refresh. Nothing.

Andre forced himself to eat something. A frozen pizza he bought at the grocery store yesterday. It tasted like cardboard. His phone sat beside his plate, screen face up. Just in case.

What if she wasn't interested? What if one hundred percent meant nothing to her? But she was on the site. She had to be looking for her mate too.

Refresh.

After eating, Andre did fifty push-ups to burn off energy. His bear wanted to run, hunt, search. Wanted to tear apart the mountains until he found her. Maybe she was shy. Maybe she was thinking about what to write. Maybe she'd respond any minute.

The scanner crackled with routine calls. Traffic stop on Highway 20. Wellness check on Elm Street. Normal small-town evening, while his world had tilted off its axis.