Page 92 of Mated to the Mountain Bear

“I heard there was some kind of commotion up here last night.” Harris moves closer, her boots heavy on the wooden floor. “And I see some fresh blood on the porch. Who wants to tell me what happened?”

Zara goes stiff, not sure what to say. I rest my palm on the small of her back to ease her nerves.

“Just an injured squirrel Jerry brought back to the cabin,” Beau says smoothly. “Nothing to worry about.”

Lisa rounds on Beau, irritated by him jumping in with an answer.

“A squirrel.” Her tone is flat, disbelieving. “A squirrel leftallthat blood on the porch?”

Beau nods slowly and cockily, deliberately trying to rile her up.

“Mountain life,” Mason chimes in with a shrug. “It isn’t always pretty.”

The silence stretches uncomfortably. Harris looks like she wants to press further, but Zara speaks up first.

“Actually, Detective, I think Ben and I are heading back to the city today.”

Harris frowns. “Are you sure that’s wise? We still haven’t caught your stalker.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nobody wants to lie outright.

“I can’t hide forever,” Zara says steadily, dodging the question. “And Ben will be with me.”

Harris’s gaze shifts to me, assessing. “You’re going to the city?You?”

My bear bristles. Of course, I’m going.

“Where she goes, I go,” I say simply.

Something in my tone must convince her because she nods slowly.

“I should head back myself. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay in person rather than take his word for it.” She looks at Beau scathingly. “And I suppose you need a ride since your brother ran away before I could ask him why he’s been lurking around the logging compound.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I guess I do. But no funny business, Detective.”

Harris sighs, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Well then, let’s go. I’ve got actual work to do today.”

After they leave, the cabin feels quieter. I grab my duffle and throw in essentials: a couple of changes of clothes, toothbrush, the basics. I don’t need much. Hopefully, this won’t be a long stay.

“You sure about this?” Zara asks, watching me pack.

“Already told you. Where you go, I go.” I zip the bag. “Let’s get this done.”

Jerry appears from wherever he’s been napping and immediately glues himself to Zara’s side. When we head for my truck, he jumps in without being asked, claiming the middle of the bench seat.

I’m not the only one feeling protective and a little clingy.

The drive starts easily enough. Mountain roads, trees, fresh air. But as we descend toward the city, everything changes. More cars. More buildings. More people. Less nature.

I crack the windows, needing air that doesn’t smell like exhaust and concrete. My hands tighten on the steering wheel as we hit the first real traffic, and my bear rebels against being trapped in this tin can.

“You okay?” Zara asks softly, resting her hand on my knee.

“Fine.” I grunt. And I am. Don’t love it, but I can handle it. Jerry whines, pressing closer to Zara. He doesn’t like it either.

By the time we reach her apartment building, my jaw aches from clenching it. The parking garage is cramped, dark, and full of echoes, but Zara needs to do this, so we’re doing it.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she mutters as we climb out, pretending she’s not as nervous as she is about returning to the scene of the crime.