The Billionbear's Bride: BBW Bear Shifter BWWM Paranormal Romance Page 9

  Together, they checked the rest of the gathering, the hallways, and all of the other bathrooms she might have stepped into. Each time he saw Wanda, the concerned furrow in her brow had grown deeper. Violet was nowhere to be found.

  Outside, the cold air was bracing as he spoke to the limo driver that had chauffeured them. She hadn't seen Violet, and Violet wasn't in the waiting car. More than half an hour had elapsed since Wanda has last seen her.

  "My car's still here, too," Wanda said grimly, tucking her fingers into her armpits and shivering in her dress. "Not that she had the key, but I thought I'd check …"

  He scanned the lot, his fear mounting. When they'd arrived, he hadn't paid attention to the cars that were already here. Now he couldn't tell if any were missing. He cursed himself. If she hadn't left of her own free will, someone must have taken her.

  His mind returned to Jim's threat. He'd thought his ex-friend was all bravado. If he was honest with himself, he hadn't taken Jim seriously. He'd thought it was all bark and no bite; Jim liked to bluster. But maybe he'd been serious after all.

  And now Violet was in trouble, and it was his fault.

  "Do you think there are cameras out here?" he asked. "We might see something if she was taken."

  Biting her lip, Wanda looked around—at the cars, at Bruce's limo, at the doors to the building. Anywhere but at Bruce. Gradually he became aware that she was avoiding his gaze.

  "Wanda?"

  She jumped, and began babbling immediately. "I'm so sorry, Bruce. I was talking to her in the bathroom, and I asked if you had talked to her yet, and I might have upset her—I think she might have left because of what I said—"

  Bruce's mind was spinning in a panic. "You told her? About my bear?" In his shock he forgot to lower his voice. Fortunately, no one was around to hear them.

  "No!" she protested. "Of course not! But I told her to talk to you," she added miserably. There were tears forming in her eyes. "I think this is all my fault. She ran away because of me."

  He took a deep breath and tried to think rationally. "So she was upset?"

  "I don't … I didn't think so," said Wanda uncertainly. "But she must have been, right?"

  "Not necessarily. There was … Someone threatened her recently." His hope that she was just upset began to fade, and the sense of danger rose in its stead. It was the mate bond, he knew now. It had been tingling at his senses ever since she had gone missing, but he hadn't recognized it, and now it was growing stronger.

  Wanda's guilt faded, to be replaced with alarm. "What?"

  They were interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone. After a moment Bruce realized it was his.

  The name on the screen read Violet. He wanted to feel relieved, but he still sensed the danger she was in.

  He answered the phone. "Violet?"

  There was a moment of silence.

  "I'm afraid not," said the very male voice on the other end, with unmistakable pleasure. It was Jim.

  Bruce's bear roared inside him. It was a struggle not to transform right then and there. The cold wind bit into Bruce's face, but his rage warmed him.

  "Where's Violet?" he demanded.

  "Was that her name?" Jim sounded bored.

  Bruce's heart stuttered in his chest. Was? "Have you hurt her? I swear to God, Jim, if you hurt a hair on her head …"

  "Relax. She's fine. I would put her on the line, but she's a little unconscious right now."

  Bruce clenched his teeth and held back a growl. If Jim had been in front of him right then, he might have torn his old friend's head from his shoulders. No regrets.

  Instead, he took another deep breath. Jim had Violet, that much was clear. He had snatched her right from underneath Bruce's nose. And Bruce had been too complacent to notice. He had let it happen, just sat back like a lazy bear, a failure of an alpha and a mate—

  His thoughts were spinning out of control again. He had to play nice with Jim—at least until he found out where Violet was.

  "What do you want, Jim?" Despite his efforts, the hint of a bear's growl laced through his voice.

  "What do I want?" Jim echoed. His words earlier had been reserved, even bored; now some anger was showing through the cracks in his disinterested façade. "It's a funny time for you to start caring about that."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, you didn't have any problem grinding what I wanted beneath your heel before, when you had me maneuvered out of my own company," spat Jim. Bruce heard a deep inhale crackle over the line, like Jim was trying to calm himself down.

  "This doesn't have anything to do with Violet," Bruce said. He tried to be soothing for Violet's sake, even though it grated on him. If Bruce pissed him off, Violet might pay the price. "Why don't you let her go and we can work this out?"

  Jim barked a sharp, unhappy laugh. "She's part of this, too. But I do want to 'talk' to you." His contemptuous tone suggested it would be a one-sided discussion. "Come to the bluff. You know where. No police, no company, or I'll kill her immediately. I've got a gun. I swear I will."

  Click. Jim had hung up.

  In his frustration, Bruce gripped his phone so hard there was an audible crack in the case, before he remembered himself.

  Wanda was watching him with wide, frightened eyes. She had heard enough.

  "Do you know where she is?" she asked.

  He did. There was only one place Jim could mean.

  When they were in college, just two kids with big dreams, they'd spent a lot of weekends together hunting and hanging out in the wilderness. Together they'd discovered a little bluff overlooking the ocean. The world had seemed so large then, so full of possibility. They'd had grand plans in those days. Now that place seemed tainted in Bruce's memory. Bitterly, he rued ever meeting Jim.

  Had there always been this darkness, this hate inside his friend? Bruce couldn't tell. Maybe Jim had been fooling him all along, and he'd just been too stupid and naïve to tell. Or maybe he had become this person—stalker, kidnapper—when Bruce wasn't looking.

  He'd thought Jim would never stoop so low, but it was clear Bruce had been wrong about him. He couldn't trust that Jim would never—would never do what he threatened. He couldn't call the police. He couldn't risk Violet's safety.

  He would have to settle this himself.

  * * *

  The bluff looked, strangely, exactly how Bruce remembered it. He'd thought it would look different, changed somehow, because he was different. But it was just the same. Brown grasses surrounded them as they stood on the dune overlooking the beach.

  When his headlights had illuminated the two figures, both anger and relief had welled up in him. She was standing—she was alive. He had known it from the mate bond, but there was something reassuring about seeing her with his own two eyes. But Jim had gagged her and bound her hands. One hand rested casually, offensively, on his mate's shoulder; Bruce snarled possessively and instinctually. The other hand held a pistol, the metal gleaming in the moonlight.

  At least it was pointed at the ground. If Jim aimed it at Violet he didn't know what he'd do.

  Jim's hand gave a light shove, and Violet stumbled forward a step.

  Bruce snarled and started to move before he'd even realized what he was doing.

  The gun came up. "Nuh-uh-uh," said Jim warningly, and Bruce halted in his tracks.

  From here, he could see his mate up close. Violet was quiet, but her eyes were wide and red-rimmed. She'd been crying.

  "Did he hurt you?" he asked quietly.

  There was a moment of hesitation, and then she shook her head. There weren't any bruises or blood that Bruce could see; still, that didn't always mean anything.

  "Jim, this is between you and me," he told Jim. Calm, like you're coaxing a wild animal. "Why don't you let her go and we'll talk."

  Instead of calming him down, that only made Jim sneer. "You and me," he repeated mockingly. "Was that what kicking me out of my own company was about?"

  You got yourself kicked out, Br
uce thought, but of course he couldn't say that. "I know things haven't been easy for you."

  "Easy?" spat Jim. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock, things haven't been easy. Thanks to you."

  Bruce eyed him warily. Jim was jumpy; the gun waved around while he was talking. He might do anything in this angry state. If Bruce shifted to his bear form, the element of surprise would be on his side—and if Jim did manage to get a bullet off, it wouldn't be as harmful to his other side.

  But Violet was in the way, and she was frightened enough as it was. Bruce held back.

  "I've been thinking—thinking of what would be an appropriate punishment. What would hurt you as much as you hurt me. Then she came along." The barrel of the gun pointed briefly at Violet.

  Bruce thought quickly. "You haven't hurt anyone yet. You don't have to. I know your job was important to you, Jim, but—"

  "My job?" Jim's voice rose with incredulity. "What about my life? My marriage?" Seeing Bruce's surprised look, Jim continued, "That's right. Colleen left me."

  "I'm sorry about Colleen," said Bruce honestly. "I didn't know."

  Jim snorted. "All because you couldn't handle someone altering your precious designs."

  Bruce wasn't sure it was worth trying to convince him otherwise, but he forged ahead. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I was worried about safety. Kids' safety."

  That earned him another disparaging look from Jim. "That was more important than me?" He shook his head in disgust. "I shouldn't be surprised. You're not even human."

  Bruce went very still, and his eyes darted to Violet. Her face was tear-streaked but confused. She didn't know what Jim was talking about.

  Jim caught side of Bruce's consternation and laughed. "You haven't told her? Oh, this is rich."

  Bruce kept his voice calm and even. Denial, denial, denial. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Then you won't mind if I tell her, will you?" Jim smirked. "He's been keeping secrets from you, you know."

  "Jim," Bruce said warningly.

  "You think I'm the monster, but I'm not," Jim said, sounding distressingly earnest, even imploring. "He's the real monster. He's an animal—a wild animal. He tore up my life and left it in shreds."

  Violet glanced back and forth between Bruce and Jim. Uncertainty shined in her eyes. It pierced Bruce's calm façade to see her so distressed.

  "You didn't even know what you were getting into bed with, did you?" Jim asked Violet. "He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve to be happy at all. Not when he ruined my happiness." His face twisted in childish pique, and the gun came up.

  A decision faced Bruce. He could keep his secret and risk Violet getting hurt. Or he could reveal himself.

  In a split second, he chose.

  Bruce shifted. His bones elongated and thickened into a powerfully strong frame; his muscles grew and stretched to wrap around them. Fur sprouted from his skin, his clothing fell in tatters around him, and the beginnings of a roar rumbled from his throat.

  In the darkness, his bear could see more clearly than he could in human form. Jim's fear was painted clear as day on his face, and it provided an opening for Bruce.

  He reacted at light speed, darting forward on the bluff. His bear no longer recognized the figure in front of him as Jim-his-old-friend, but only as someone who was hurting his mate, igniting a protective fury in Bruce.

  Bruce heard a loud crack and felt a flash of pain, but it wasn't enough to distract him. The bullet must have just glanced him. He rose up on his hind legs and batted the pistol away so that it skittered across the sand.

  Another backhand and the man threatening his mate was on the ground with a bloody face. Bruce towered over the prone figure. Its throat was exposed; it would be an easy kill. And nothing—no gun, no friend—could stop him now.

  Except for one thing. A whimper came from behind him. A whimper Bruce recognized as belonging to his mate.

  His bear stilled. His human mind wasn't gone in this form, just subdued, and it came to the forefront of his consciousness now. What if, it whispered, Violet's been hurt by the gunshot?

  His prey was unconscious, and no threat to them any longer. Bruce shifted back to his human form.

  It was chilly and foggy, and Bruce was buck-ass naked. Goosebumps ran up and down his skin. But he had to get to Violet and make sure she was okay.

  She had fallen down in the sand. As he drew closer to her, she shrank away from him. Her eyes were huge and wet; she couldn't talk, but she made a frightened sound in the back of her throat.

  He tried to speak gently through the adrenaline; she was probably in shock. "Violet, are you—" He knelt next to her, not too close, and reached for her gag.

  She shook her head violently, flinching away from his touch.

  They were interrupted by another figure running down the dune toward them. High heels kicked up sand behind her, and as she came close, the moonlight illuminated her face. It was Wanda.

  She looked frantic. "Bruce—Bruce, I heard a gun go off—are you—" She spotted Violet. "Oh my god, Violet!"

  Wanda dropped in the sand next to her friend and began untying her restraints immediately. She struggled with the gag, finally pulling it down over Violet's chin; Violet's relief was immediate.

  She gasped and her head fell to Violet's shoulder. A great, heaving sob wracked her frame.

  "Did you see—did you see what happened—" Violet choked on the words.

  Reluctantly, Wanda nodded.

  "So you saw Bruce—" Her words seemed to fail her.

  Wanda hesitated. "His transformation? Yeah."

  Violet sniffled. "You don't seem surprised …"

  Wanda bit her lip and traded a look with Bruce.

  "This is what you wanted to talk to me about earlier, isn't it?" Violet asked between hiccups, her shoulders shaking. Wanda nodded. "Both of you! You were keeping secrets from me!"

  She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring Wanda and Bruce's protests. When Wanda tried to grab her arm, Violet jerked it away—and began running away from them both.

  "Shit," said Bruce with feeling. Violet moved in a dazed and confused zigzag, and there was a good chance she would hurt herself. On the other hand, there was Jim to think of.

  Wanda seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Go after her," she instructed, and gestured toward the restraints that had been used on his mate. "I'll take care of him. And call the police."

  He didn't need his bear to track Violet; she hadn't gone far. He could hear her choked sobs over the soft sound of the ocean's tides.

  She was kneeling—no, she had stumbled and fallen to her knees in the sand.

  "Violet," he said gently as he approached. He didn't want to surprise her.

  She looked over her shoulder. Her eyes pleaded with him. Bruce knelt next to her.

  "Are you hurt?" he asked.

  She sniffled again. "I think I hurt my ankle," she said unwillingly.

  "May I?" He held out a hand.

  After a moment of hesitation, Violet shifted to place her ankle warily in his hands. Her skin was so smooth and soft; if they were in a different situation, he would have been thinking about something else entirely.

  Bruce cupped her ankle with one hand and held her bare foot in the other. After murmuring, "Tell me where it hurts," he moved her foot in a gentle rotation.

  She nodded. Although she winced at a certain angle, nothing felt broken.

  "I think it's just twisted," Bruce said. "Still, you shouldn't walk on it for a day or two."

  Her gaze cast over his shoulder, searching. "Did you leave Wanda with—that guy?"

  "She's okay," he assured her. "She tied him up and she has the gun."

  Violet's shoulders sagged with relief. "He was so … he was obsessed with you. He wouldn't stop talking about you. How you owed him, how you didn't deserve me. Even though he wanted to hurt me, too."

  "I don't deserve you," he said honestly. "He got that part right, at least."

  Violet cracked t
he tiniest smile. Even though it faded quickly, Bruce's heart lifted.

  "I know everything seems crazy right now."

  "You turned into a bear," she murmured. "And then back into a person. And now you're naked. 'Crazy' sounds about right."

  "I have some extra clothes in the car." He hesitated. "Violet, the police are going to be here soon. They're going to want to take our statements."

  Violet took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "Without bears, I assume." Her voice was steadier now, though he still detected a wobble in it.

  Bruce reached out to stroke her shoulder. He was afraid she would jerk away again, but she didn't; instead she leaned toward him, into his touch, as if running on instinct.

  "I think I can walk." Steadying herself on Bruce, Violet rose to her feet—before stumbling forward into his chest.

  She didn't let go immediately. His arms enveloped her. "Maybe I was overestimating my ability," she muttered.

  Without thinking, he swooped down and slipped one arm behind her knees, easily picking her up and cradling her in his arms against his chest. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, burying her face in his neck.

  "I'll take care of you," he murmured into her ear, and felt her nod.

  Chapter Eleven

  Violet

  After the night she'd had, it took a lot of tossing and turning before Violet fell asleep. While she lay awake, her brain tried to make sense of the evening's events by running them through her mind over and over on a loop.

  Waking up to a stranger—a dangerous stranger. He'd tied her up and rambled to her. The stalker who had been following Bruce, she'd surmised through the fog in her mind.

  The gun pointed at her head. Walk, he'd said. Moonlight flickering off the barrel.

  Bruce. She'd seen—she'd thought she'd seen—the protectiveness and love in his eyes as he'd talked. Tried to calm down her captor.

  The bear. Bruce turning into the bear. The great, shaggy animal with its huge bulk rushing toward her.

  But it hadn't hurt her—only her kidnapper. The bear hadn't even touched her. It had turned its head toward her and she'd seen intelligence in its eyes. Then Bruce had come back.