Page 3 of Mated to the Mountain Bear (Bear Protector #1)

ZARA

T he line goes dead. I return to the booth, stare at the phone for a moment, then set it on the sticky tabletop. Morrison is watching me with narrowed eyes.

“Someone coming to get you?”

I nod, wrapping my arms around myself to warm up. “Yes, sir.”

The air conditioning in the diner feels arctic against my damp skin. I’m shivering so hard, my jaw hurts, the adrenaline leaving my body, and letting me feel just how cold it is.

Morrison’s jaw tightens slightly, but he dips his head lower to give me some friendly advice. “Probably best to stay with someone until you feel better.”

As if I had any intention of going back there tonight.

The temptation to insist it’s not all in my head is strong, but I know getting angry will just confirm their suspicions, that I’m nothing more than a hysterical woman struggling with her grief.

Instead, I focus on the fact that I’m safe in here, for now, and I gratefully accept the hot mug of coffee slipped into my hands by the still slightly shell-shocked server. She keeps looking at the door like she’s expecting more trouble to burst through it any second.

But he’s too clever for that. He likes to stay in the shadows.

I stare into the steam floating up from the cup I’m clinging to, trying to figure what the hell I’m going to do now, and how mad Amber will be if she reappears, and I’ve spent all our savings on a private bodyguard.

My spiralling thoughts are only broken when the bell above the door chimes, startling me.

The man who walks in looks exactly like someone you’d call at three in the morning when your life is falling apart.

Seven minutes. That’s all it took him to get here, according to the white plastic clock hanging on the wall.

He’s tall, very tall, and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that’s already damp from the rain. His clothes are rumpled, thrown on in a hurry. Jeans, boots, leather jacket over a wrinkled T-shirt.

There’s nothing special about any of it, but it’s the way he moves that catches my attention. He’s controlled, alert, and extremely confident, like someone who knows they’re the most dangerous man in the room.

No wonder everyone is staring at him.

He scans the diner, cataloging the occupants before his dark eyes settle on me. He takes in the blood, the soaked clothes clinging to me, and the way I’m shaking, despite the warm drink.

A brief flash of anger flickers across his face when he sees the state I’m in, and his jaw clenches, making him look even more intimidating than before.

Without breaking stride, he slides his jacket off his shoulders, revealing a physique that has the server smoothing down her hair and tidying up her uniform. The simple plain black T-shirt does nothing to hide the muscles bulging beneath as he moves.

Morrison stands as he approaches, shoulders square, as he looks up at the man heading straight for me. “And you are?”

“Beau.” He extends a hand, which Morrison takes after a beat. He knows this is no family friend coming to pick up a damsel in distress. This is a professional.

“Beau who?”

Beau’s stony expression softens to a friendly smile as he artfully avoids answering Morrison’s question.

“Don’t worry, gentlemen. I’m not here to step on any toes or hijack your investigation. Just to get the lady someplace safe before she freezes to death.”

Everyone looks at me, and I feel more exposed than ever. I’ve always hated being the center of attention, let alone when I look like a drowned rat.

Morrison momentarily looks guilty, like he’s only just realising now that I’m trembling, but quickly, his focus returns to Beau. His eyes narrow as he stares up at him.

“Where do I know you from? If you’re going to cause trouble…”

Beau’s eyes flick to me, then back to Morrison as he holds his hands up to placate the man. “No trouble, I swear. Someone just needs to keep an eye on her while you guys do your job. That’s all I’m trying to do.”

Morrison’s eyes light up with recognition, and he wags a finger in Beau’s direction.

“Lennox private security. The Willis case. That’s where I know you from.

” His tone is scathing, but then the tension in Morrison’s shoulders eases slightly.

He glances between us and sighs. “She’s had a rough night.

Might have been someone in her place, but it’s hard to tell. Looks like it’s locked up tight.”

I bristle, and Beau notices the firm set of my jaw as I hold back from saying what I really want.

“I believe her,” Beau states simply, not even a question. “And I’ll keep her safe.”

Stepping past the officer who continues to stare at his back, Beau hands his leather jacket to me, and I slip it on gratefully, the warmth of it calming my frazzled nerves immediately.

Morrison pulls out his card and waits until Beau moves to the counter and asks the server about CCTV to hand it to me. “That’s my direct line. Call if anything happens.” He looks at Beau, features pinched. “Do you know who that is? That he’s a Lennox?”

I don’t know what that means, all I know is he came highly recommended and he believes me, so I nod.

“Okay. But be careful. Their reputation for being dangerous is well-deserved…”

I blink, momentarily taken-aback, but then as I remember that feeling of panic as I clambered out my bedroom window, I decide dangerous is exactly what I need.

With a sigh, Morrison extends his notepad to me.

“I’ll do what I can. Give me your number, and we’ll let you know if we find any evidence of a break-in.”

Inside, I want to scream. Of course, there was a break-in. How dare he not believe me. But these are the people looking for my sister, so I don’t want to piss them off.

Before I can take it, Beau intercepts it and scribbles down his number instead. “We’ll be turning off her phone and getting her a new number.”

After they leave, Beau slides into the booth across from me. Up close, I can see the stubble on his square jaw, and the tired lines around his eyes. He looks like someone who doesn’t sleep enough already, and I just dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night.

Without saying a word, he extends his hand, palm up, and slips my phone into it. He switches it off immediately and removes the SIM card, sliding them into his pocket without a word.

“Are you ready to go?” His voice is softer now. “You’re cold, and this place stinks of stale grease.”

I smile despite myself. He’s right; it does stink. That’s why I’ve never eaten here, never set foot inside before tonight.

My eyes dart to the windows, but before I can voice my fear, Beau speaks. “I already checked outside. He’s not there, or close by, anyway. I’ve got you, okay? You don’t have to be scared with me here.”

A weight lifts off my shoulder as I nod, happy to let someone else take charge of the situation.

“I need shoes and clothes. My keys...” I trail off, looking down at the state I’m in, but realise everything I own is back in that apartment, packed up in boxes, and ready for moving out next week.

To where, I still have no idea, but after tonight, I’ll be happy to never set foot inside that place ever again.

“We’ll figure it out.” He stands and gestures for me to follow him toward the door. “Come on.”

Outside, the rain continues to pelt down. Beau opens the passenger door of a black SUV, and I climb into the warmth, grateful to be out of the downpour. The dome light illuminates the interior, showing fast food wrappers on the floor, and empty coffee cups in the holders.

He slides behind the wheel and starts the engine, pulling out slowly into the deserted street.

“Tell me about tonight. And the notes. Everything.”

So I do, and somehow, it’s easier to admit these things to a complete stranger than to my friends and family.

I tell him about Amber disappearing. How little we know.

How there were no signs of anything wrong.

Then all about how the notes started three weeks ago, right after, getting more possessive each time, and more certain that we belong together forever.

My hands twist in my lap as I talk, the leather jacket slowly warming my wet skin.

Beau nods as I talk, rarely interrupting, just lets me speak and keeps his eyes forward. “Do you think they’re connected?” he asks carefully when I finish.

I stare out the window. It seems unlikely that they aren’t. The timing seems more than coincidental.

“The police don’t seem to see it that way.

Different cases completely , they said. That it could be someone who saw my picture in the paper and got fixated on me.

Some weirdos like to insert themselves into cases of tragedy.

I don’t know.” A tear escapes as I admit what’s pissing me off most. “They keep asking about how Amber was coping with fame… and her recent break up.”

They don’t think she was taken, they think she was depressed and either hurt herself or ran away. But she would never.

He nods slowly as we leave the small town behind us.

“I need to stash you somewhere safe while I look into this. He’s getting brazen. Probably knows your routine, your friends and family, so it can’t be anywhere you’ve been in the last three weeks. Are you okay with that?”

I’m too tired to argue. A hotel room with a bath and a soft bed sounds perfect right now, as does letting someone else make all the decisions for me. I’ll deal with reality tomorrow.

After ten minutes of silence, we merge onto the freeway heading north.

Away from the myriad of hotels I could hole up in for the night.

We drive along empty roads, further and further from Cinder Creek, and closer to the Black Ridge mountains, which loom large ahead.

The rain turns everything into a blur of light and shadows, and I struggle to work out exactly where I am and where we’re going.

“Where are you taking me?” My voice sounds small in the quiet interior.

“Somewhere safe.” His response doesn’t ease my concern. There’s a reason he’s not telling me, and I want to know why.

“I get that. Where, specifically ?”