Chapter 8

Mac swore as the tail end of Bruin’s sedan came into view in the driveway they had entered. “Shit, woman, you’re a genius. Remind me to buy you something pretty.”

Rogue snorted. “And shiny. I have expensive tastes.”

Mac was glad to hear her good humor had somewhat returned. He hadn’t given up on finding Amaranth, and he didn’t think Rogue had either, but she’d only now been able to jettison some of the pain they had stirred up by actively looking for her. It was regroup time, and there was so much going on it kept her from thinking too much about Amaranth.

It had been three days since they’d flown home and headed straight to Trevor’s farmhouse. Better yet, they now had their very own home in the back. Village Fucktastic, house number four, that was their new address, and it actually suited them. Rogue had warmed up to her half-sisters. Mac had even walked in on her rubbing Heather’s back and hips as Heather labored for the third day in a row, sleeping for an hour here or there as the contractions let her. Mac had asked and been told some women could labor for weeks, their body warming up for birth in a slow burn, especially when it was their first baby.

Mac had taken one look at the sheen of sweat on Heather’s forehead and the way the muscles in her torso and thighs bunched with every contraction she had and shaken his head at her stamina. Labor must be what turned a woman into the badass she needed to be once she was a mother.

No young yet. No pups, not even a little dragon baby. No one knew how the young would come out, but everyone had shifted their attention to Heather, while Ella spent her days at Shay’s bedside in the nursing home, waiting for either Shay’s babies to be born, or her own labor to start. Each evening, Trevor would drive her home, she would waddle in to check on Heather and lend her some moral support, catch a few hours of sleep, then insist Trevor take her right back to Shay’s room.

Mac didn’t blame her. The more shiften heard Shay’s story, the more there was talk about her young. What should or shouldn’t be done. Ella probably believed those babies needed her there to ensure their safety.

Mac was glad he didn’t have any say in what happened to Shay’s young. Because that was the kind of thing that could give you a headache thinking about. They were babies, the most helpless thing in the universe. But if they were Khain’s? How did you get rid of a baby? He shook his head. You didn’t, unless you were a monster.

When the young were born, there would be a DNA test. But what could it say? Would it blare NOTHUMAN. NOTSHIFTEN. And then what?

Rogue whipped off her seatbelt as Mac slowed and stopped behind Bruin’s car. “What in the hell is that?” she asked, her eyes on the burnt metal husk in front of Bruin’s car.

Mac frowned. “Looks like a truck.”

“A truck someone mistook for a marshmallow,” Rogue muttered and jumped out.

Mac threw a glance over his shoulder at Trent and Troy, but both were curled up in the back seat, sleeping. They’d had duty all night. He left them and followed his mate, sniffing the delicate ashy smell of the fire that barely lingered, as he made his way to the wreckage. This had happened long before. Months ago, probably. As he circled the car he realized Rogue wasn’t even looking at it anymore. She had her hands on her hips and was staring at Bruin’s garage. “And a garage someone mistook for a target,” Rogue said softly.

Mac jerked his gaze up. Bullet holes, five of them in the wooden garage door, splinters torn from the edges. What in the hell?

Rogue glanced at him. “Bru ever mention someone trying to kill him?”

Mac shook his head. That couldn’t be what this was. Could it? He grabbed Roe’s hand. “Maybe this isn’t his place. Maybe he’s visiting.”

They headed up the porch steps, and Mac had another what-the-hell-is-this? moment as he stared at the welcome mat on the porch of the house they weren’t certain about.

The fire department hadn’t helped them at all. Mac had called them himself, probably not helping his case when he called the bearen on the other end of the phone ‘nothing more than a squirrel on steroids.’ But shit, that fucker had tried to claim no one with the name Bruin worked for the Serenity Fire Department, and therefore there was no way they could have an address for such a male, could they?

Mac stepped to the side of the welcome mat that showed a yellow and black bee with a human face riding a unicorn that was breathing fire as it jumped over a rainbow, then hammered on the front door.

Rogue stared at the unbelievable welcome mat and snickered. “I’m pretty sure this is his place.”

***

Bruin opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his den.

His body was slow and heavy and hungry. He’d slept for a long time. But it had been worth it. He knew what he would do, no matter what his chief said.

The fire chief could tell him he couldn’t work as a firefighter anymore, and Rhen might say the wolven couldn’t take him on as an honorary cop, but no one would tell him who he could be friends with. He was staying. Even if he never worked another day in his life, he could live simply, with Mac and Rogue, as long as they would have him. He would guard the babies and the One True Mates, as nothing more than a guy with a little bulk to throw around who wasn’t scared to fight for what he believed in.

He could be a permanent bodyguard to whoever seemed to need it most, offering himself over fully to the new generation. No payment needed, no title needed. No clan needed, if that’s what it came to. He would do anything to help out the shiften and the One True Mates and their progeny, and further the fight against Khain, and he would not be driven out of Serenity by anyone.

Decision made, he hoisted himself out of bed and smiled, feeling like a new bear.

He selected new clothes from his dresser, carefully moved all the treasures in his pockets from old pants to new pants, then headed for the stairs, cocking his head for just a moment, thinking he heard knocking.

He bounded up the stairs and grabbed his phone from the top step, shocked when he checked the time and realized the phone said Friday. He’d slept for three days? Blast it all. He hit his notifications. Fifty-five messages from Mac, four from Rogue, and one from Wade. None from any bears, not even Conri.

Someone pounded on his door and Bruin jumped, then relaxed when Rogue yelled, “Come on Bru-Bru the Pooh! It’s hot out here!”

Bruin opened the door, unable to stifle his grin at the sight of his friends. “How did you find me?” he asked as he let Rogue and Mac into the cool interior of his home.

Mac grinned back and put out his hand. Bruin grabbed it and pulled Mac in for a bear hug. Rogue hit him on the arm as she pushed past them, her eyes greedily devouring his house, his stuff. His pictures and his hair mannequins.

Mac let him go. “What, fucker, you knew no one knew your address? I was worried. Not cool.”

Bruin hung his head. He’d never considered that. But then he’d never slept for three days before, either. “Sorry, wolf.”

Mac raised an eyebrow. “The fire department claimed to not even know who the hell you are. That no one named Bruin even works there or ever has. And did you know I didn’t even know your last name? How’s that possible?”

Bruin frowned. There were actually two of them at the fire department with his first name. And why would they try to say he had never worked there? What game was B3 running now? “Bloom,” he muttered.

Mac stopped short on his own investigation of Bruin’s house and turned back to Bruin slowly. “Bloom, as in flower?” He stared as Bruin nodded. “Oh,” he finally said. “I guess that’s why you never told me.”

Bruin nodded absently, although he rather liked his last name, he could see why a wolf wouldn’t. He headed for his fridge. After that powernap, he needed a lot of food and quickly. His pants were falling off him.

Too bad there was nothing in the fridge except Conri’s favorite beer, Corona, plus one withered lime way in the back. Oh right, he’d been gone for a month.

His stomach growled, the sound reverberating throughout the small house.

Rogue made her way to his telescope that sat by the sliding glass door that led to the back porch. “I’m hungry, too. I would say we should order pizza, but I’d be embarrassed for the pizza man to see that welcome mat.”

“Which pizza man?” Mac muttered.

Rogue wrapped her hands around Bru’s telescope and moved her face to the eyepiece. “Any of them,” she said, head down, body compact as she sighted what Bruin looked at every day he was home. She stood straight and grinned, pointing at his ‘scope. “The beehives. I see them. That’s how we found you. You told Blake you watch a beekeeper on the backside of the bluff most days. I grilled him for anything you’d said about it and figured out about how far away you were and where your house had to be for you to see the back side of the bluff, and then we drove around till we spotted your car. Not too many houses out here.”

Bruin nodded. Leave it to a cop matched with a criminal and they would figure out most anything they wanted to.

Rogue twirled his telescope on its tripod, with an evil glint in her eye. “We’re thinking about the Honey Depot, if you’re hungry.”

“Cub whiskers! Am I ever!” He started for the door, checking his pockets. He had everything, he hoped.

Mac stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Hold up, Pooh-bear. First, did you just say ‘cub whiskers’? No, don’t answer that. Second, what’s with the signs of the apocalypse we see in your driveway? You know, the burnt out car, the bullet holes. You a part-time 007 out here in the sticks?”

Bruin stared, not sure what to say. How to answer that. How to tell a cop someone is trying to kill you, but you don’t want him to do anything about it. Not really kill him though, just make him feel nervous enough to leave town.

Mac’s eyes narrowed. “It’s that bad, huh?”

Bruin shrugged. “It ain’t good.”

“Who?”

Bruin shrugged again and looked away. He couldn’t rat out another bear.

Mac got in close. Right up in his face. “Just tell me one thing. Did you really roll my car cuz you saw a bee nest? Or did someone burn it up cuz they were trying to get to you?”

Bruin shrugged one more time. Three’s a charm. And he really didn’t know. He’d seen a nest, but he might have told Mac a little lie about not being able to resist it. He did that. Told lies sometimes. Especially when the person he was talking to didn’t want to hear the truth. The last thing Mac wanted to hear was that there was a chance someone had been trying to kill Bruin by shooting out his tire and that’s why Bruin had wrecked his Corvette. Oh, and Mac wouldn’t want to hear that Bruin wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it, except let whoever was doing it keep on…

“Tell me who it is. I swear I’ll fix this for you. I’ll make it stop.”

Bruin only shook his head and stared at the floor.

Rogue shooed them both with her hands. “Let’s discuss this over food.” She headed for the door.

Mac glared at him and shook his head, then followed his mate out the door. Bruin grabbed his stuff and headed out with them.

Dodged a bullet there. Hopefully there weren’t too many more coming for him today.

He wasn’t a cat, just a bear, and who knew how many lives bears had.