Chapter 4
Gia was searching for something healthier than the leftover pizza that was calling her name from the back of the fridge when someone knocked on her door. It had to be her father since he’d gotten past the security door at the entrance, and he was the only person she’d given a spare key to. She appreciated that he still knocked. It had been a while since she’d had a steady boyfriend, but one never knew who one might find over the course of a day.
She opened the door to see her guess had been right. Her father stood in the hallway with a bottle of champagne and a bag of takeout. She groaned. “I just had pizza last night.”
“You don’t need to watch your figure,” he said. “But don’t worry. I got you one of those chicken wrap things you like so much.”
She stepped aside and let him in. “Thanks Dad. I was just thinking about supper.”
“And I was just thinking we should celebrate your first real day at your new job. How did it go?”
“Boring,” she said, pulling out glasses and plates. “I had to sign a lot of papers and get a pass card, and I got lost twice. City Hall is bigger than I thought it was. But I get my own office.”
“I knew I should have had you a little office built,” he said, snapping his fingers. “I’m going to lose you, and it’ll all be because they gave you a better piece of real estate.”
“I had a better neighbor at your office,” she said, thinking of Carol. “I’m across the hall from the HR department and they’re all grumpy.”
“At least you won’t be late coming back from lunch,” he pointed out.
“True that.” He unpacked the food—a wrap for her, a sandwich for him, and two pieces of lemon pie in a plastic dish. He opened the champagne with a pop and poured two glasses. He raised his and said, “To my daughter! Here’s to success in your new political career.”
She clinked her glass against his and drank.
“Tell me about our new mayor,” he said as he started on his supper.
“What’s to tell?” That I keep thinking about snuggling him? I don’t think you want to hear that. I don’t think I want to admit that out loud. “You were right, of course. He’s a gentleman. I didn’t see much of him today. Or yesterday.”
“Strange that the mayor went off to do business without his assistant there to help.”
“He said his business wasn’t something I could help with. I just assumed he had pack business.”
“Bears don’t live in packs. The shifters call them clans.”
“Where did you learn that?” she said.
He shrugged. “So, we have a gentleman-bear for a mayor. I suppose that’s good news. What does your job entail?”
She filled him in as much as she could, and they chatted about her replacement at Carosa Holdings and Carol and her mother.
“Speaking of your mother,” he said, wiping his face on the napkin. “I should return home.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t come,” Gia said. She hadn’t felt disappointment in her mother’s absence until now.
“You know your mother. She loves to spend money, but she has very little interest in how it’s made. She’ll be down to visit you soon, I’m sure. Don’t you two have a spa day coming up?”
“Just passed,” she reminded, absently waving polished fingers in his direction.
“That’s right. She loves you darling, but she doesn’t understand why you didn’t just marry rich. No, don’t explain it to me, I understand and respect your choice. I’ll leave you the champagne—don’t drink it all tonight. We should do lunch. Monday? No, I’m in New York for two weeks. When I get back.”
“It’s a date,” she said, smiling. He was used to barreling over people and she was used to his pushy attitude. He did respect her though, so she took it as a sign of affection, at least where she was concerned. “Say hi to Mom for me.”
“I will. Take care.” He breezed out with surprising grace for a man his age.
To her credit, she didn’t drink the whole bottle of champagne even though it was a small bottle, but she did have two glasses and a glass of wine, and then curled up with a book open on her lap. She was warm and content and pleased with herself, but she couldn’t focus on the words on the page. Every time she started reading, her mind would drift back to some event over the last two days and to the man who was very quickly dominating her thoughts.
“He’s my boss,” she muttered. “Maybe if we hit it off I’ll consider it after his regular assistant comes back. I don’t need to be the scandal of City Hall.” With that settled, she gave up on the book and crawled into bed. In the morning she awoke, her body tingling from the intensity of her dreams, and as the dream faded she was able to deny it was Brock Tandell she had been dreaming about.
She arrived at City Hall that morning feeling tired and started her coffee maker as soon as she reached her office. She was going to need the whole damn pot to make it through the rest of the backlogged emails today. And, like rabbits, the damn things seemed to multiply overnight.
She went through the list and deleted everything that looked like spam. She then went through the ones that should have gone to HR, media control, budget, and other departments within City Hall but had somehow ended up in the general inbox. With the easiest part of her job done, she tried to decide where to start on the sorting that was left before her. One subject line caught her eye, and she clicked it before going to refill her cup. When she came back she settled in to read.
Subject: Airport Attack
Mr. Mayor, your stance on the recent attack upon the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport is sickening, but then given your connection to the beast who tore the building apart we shouldn’t be surprised. Werebears, werewolves, and whatever other foul demon beasts hide in the shadows of this world are the spawn of the devil himself. Every one of you is a monster, a ticking time bomb. The next time one of you loses control or decides to unleash your beast upon unsuspecting humans, we will not be so lucky as to escape injury at your hands.
There are those of us in this city, and this great nation, who are not so easily tricked into complacency. While you hold court over your media circus, orchestrating cover-ups that the gullible believe, we are busy seeking proof of the danger you and your kind pose to society.
We demand a stronger stance be taken against shape shifters of all kinds. We demand stronger laws in place to protect our families from you demon-possessed monsters. We will not be silenced by empty promises. We will not be fooled by placations. We will have justice at any cost.
A Concerned Citizen and Member of the Human Order.
Gia shuddered as she read the letter a second time. There was no denying the hostility in the words—“monster,” “demon,” “ticking time bomb,” “at any cost.” It read more like a political demand than a complaint. She forwarded it to Brock and then knocked on the door between their offices.
He didn’t answer, but she could hear his voice so she peered in. He was on the phone, but he waved her in and pointed to a chair. She half listened to his side of the conversation as she sipped at her coffee trying to calm down.
When he hung up and turned his attention to her she said, “Check your emails.”
She watched his face as he read, watched the clouds forming in those sharp golden eyes. His hand tightened on the mouse. His mouth thinned to a line.
“This is worse than I thought.”
“You knew about this? Some warning would have been nice.”
“About this? No. I’ve never heard of the Human Order, but from this letter I can assume they are some sort of supremacist group that doesn’t like shifters. They likely feed into people’s natural fear of what is different to try to turn them against us. Shit. What I knew was that I had gotten hate mail during the campaign—letters directed at me telling me I’d burn in hell, that I’d damn the whole city, that I was a monster. But they were letters about me, not about shifters in general, and I spoke to the other candidates. They said they all got hate mail during the campaigns as well.”
“I can’t imagine theirs was as bad,” she scoffed.
“Probably not, but then being a werebear does seem to invoke the imagination a little more strongly than wanting to get rid of unused community centers. I need to call my clan leader and inform him. He needs to warn the other clans and the wolves as well. This type of rhetoric can and often does escalate to violence, and we need to be ready.”
“What about us?” Gia said. “Your city is mostly human. What are you going to do to protect them? You talked about me trusting you, but do you trust the humans in your city?”
“I’m going to continue to educate this city and anyone who will listen on the truth about shifters. And I will be forwarding this email to the police. They need to be aware in case this escalates to domestic terrorism. I can’t possibly trust everyone in this city, Gia, but I do believe that an educated population is less prone to violence.”
“God, I didn’t think working in City Hall would be quite this… exciting.”
“Gia, do you trust me?”
“You can’t trust a man you’ve never met,” Gia said, quoting her father. “I don’t think you can make that decision about one you’ve only just met either.”
“Tell me, in your gut, do you think I’d hurt you?”
“No.” She answered on instinct.
“After I talk to my clan leader and the police, we will likely have to call a press conference before this Human Order makes themselves public. Have you been in front of the cameras before?”
“Yes. Briefly. Will I have to say much? Answer questions?”
“You’ll introduce me. The press will be mostly focused on me. A few times they shot questions to Marsha, mostly questions about working with me.”
“Are you going to lecture me on what to say?”
“No.”
That surprised her. Her father had always drilled her on what to say in front of the cameras. “You’re not worried about what I could say?”
“Perhaps it is because animals live and survive on instincts that mine are louder and clearer than some people find theirs, but I already trust you, Gia. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
She nodded and retreated to her office to finish the emails.
Brock stared after Gia for a long moment and then rubbed both large hands over his face. This was not supposed to happen. He wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the disaster that had just landed in his lap or the heat he felt when he watched Gia move. Either way, he knew where his focus needed to be.
His first call was to the police, and they instructed him to forward the email to a specific address, their web crimes division, and to print a copy. “Politically, I need to stay ahead of this Human Order, whoever they are. How much can I reveal to the public without hindering your investigation into the matter?”
“Extremists are strange,” the officer said. “If you pay attention to them they feel this adds legitimacy to their cause and they may escalate faster. On the other hand, they hate to be ignored, so if you don’t address this it may cause them to escalate faster. With only one email to go by, it’s hard to tell. I would keep quiet for now, see if they reach out to you again. They aren’t likely to make the leap to violence right away.”
“Thank you.”
His next call was to Remy. “I need to release the information about the pills,” he said. “We’ve got a group of extremists calling us names and demanding laws be changed to keep them safe. I have to push some of the ‘blame’ off of Jules and onto the pills. I’m hoping that will steal the fuel from their fire.”
“Do what you have to do,” Remy said. “I will inform the other clans.”
“Thank you.”
He worked on his computer for hours after that, writing and rewriting what he planned to say in front of the cameras and microphones. He tried to anticipate their questions, to identify and address their concerns and their fears. When that was done, he hit the button on the phone that would page Gia’s phone in the next room.
“Yes?” Her voice sounded strange through the speaker.
“Come in here and let’s review for the press conference.”
She appeared with a full cup of coffee and a tablet. “What do we need to review?”
He turned his monitor and let her read his speech. She leaned on his desk, focused on the screen, but he was suddenly focused on her. She was too modestly dressed to be flashing him any indecent skin, and he was at the wrong angle to sneak a peek anyway. Still, he found the way she was standing very interesting—more interesting if he could stand behind her.
No, he wouldn’t let his thoughts go there.
“There,” she said, pointing to the screen. “Change that sentence. You’re begging here. Requesting, suggesting, that’s fine, but if you start begging you’ll sound whiny and weak.”
He read it over and then nodded. “You’re right. Trying too hard not to offend.”
“Some people have chosen to be offended already. You won’t soothe them over with this speech. I hope that’s not what this is about.” She sat back in the chair.
Now that she wasn’t in a provocative pose, he let out the breath he’d been holding. “No. You’re right. The people who hate shifters won’t change their mind because my friend took the wrong pills. But maybe I can take a little wind out of their sales and slow down their recruiting.”
“Well then, this looks fine. When do you want the press conference?” She tapped the screen of her tablet, probably to call up a calendar.
“The sooner the better.”
She looked at the clock at the top of her screen. “The news is on right now. If we call them at seven when the local news ends, they’ll be able to air it on the late news and again in the morning.”
“Is that enough? Should we wait for prime time tomorrow?”
She shrugged and looked up at him. “Really, it’s your call.”
“Let’s make it prime time tomorrow so they can’t accuse us of trying to slip this past people.”
“Done.” She typed on the screen for a moment. “I’ll go make those phone calls.” She smiled.
“Still think this is exciting?” he said.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Her smile had turned mischievous. “Oh, and don’t read your speech over until just before the conference tomorrow or you’ll start changing things that don’t need changing. Trust me.”
“I already do.”
Chapter 5
The reporters had flocked to City Hall in droves. At the back of the crowd, TV cameras had been set up on tripods and were pointed at the front steps. Gia had never seen so many cameras and microphones in her life—not in person. It looked like they were waiting for the president. She fidgeted in her chair, waiting for her cue to approach the microphone. She didn’t have to say much, but she still had butterflies in her stomach. She glanced over at Brock, but he was looking down at his phone looking cool and detached. The crowd doesn’t bother him, she thought. Or else he’s got the best damn poker face I’ve ever seen. He might also have the best face I’ve ever seen, period. Not the time, Gia.
Looking at Brock was a dumb idea right now, and looking at the crowd just made her sweat, but there was nowhere else to look. Finally, someone tapped her on the shoulder and said, “They’re ready.”
Gia nodded and looked at Brock. He had put the phone away. “Let’s do this,” he said softly. She nodded again and went to the podium.
“Good afternoon,” she said, and a hush fell over the crowd. “Thank you all for coming down. Mayor Brock Tandell is aware that the incident that occurred at the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport has left many people feeling concerned over public safety in our city, and he would like to speak to those concerns today.”
She returned to her seat as Brock stepped up to the microphone. Watching the crowd was a lot easier now that she didn’t have to speak in front of them. She scanned the cameras, looking for all the different logos, trying to compile a mental list of which stations were present.
“Good afternoon,” Brock said. “In 1945, the world was shocked to learn of the existence of shape shifters. Over the last seven decades, the majority of the population have never encountered a shifter, or at least they haven’t realized it if they have. For hundreds of residents of, and visitors to, New Orleans last month, that changed when many of you witnessed firsthand or on television the reality of shifters.
“As one of the few shifters in North America whose identity is publicly known, I feel it is my duty and responsibility to share what information I can about our culture, about our laws, and about how the whole shifting thing actually works.
“I would like to put minds at ease. I am not immortal. While being a werebear does heighten my senses in human form and increase my physical stamina, it does not grant me an extended life span. In fact, most shifters have a low pain tolerance while in their human form because under extreme duress we’re at increased risk of an uncontrolled shift.
“And that brings me to the incident at the airport. This was not a deliberate attack. It was not domestic terrorism. And it most certainly was not a political stunt. In my previous statement, I mentioned that he was afraid of flying and of security officers and police, but new information has come to light. In an attempt to relief his anxiety, he was taking an herbal supplement. Medications often do not react well with shifters, so he hoped that something natural—lavender, chamomile, valerian, green tea leaves… things any of you might take to help you relax in a stressful situation—would work for him as well. And apparently, they did.”
The crowd erupted in a flurry of shouted questions and protests that startled Gia. Her eyes darted over the faces, but most of them looked eager, flushed; they wanted information, not blood. Her eyes settled on a man, long and lean and tanned. He was young, possibly younger than her—it was hard to tell from here. He didn’t have a notepad or tablet or any form of recording device. He was wearing a t-shirt snug over a lean muscled body, so it wasn’t likely he was hiding a weapon, and yet he made Gia uncomfortable.
Brock raised his hand, and after a moment it was quiet enough for him to continue. “He didn’t know that there were also stimulants in the pills he was taking. The pills were designed so the sedatives would kick in first, calming him, and then the stimulants would kick in, pushing him back toward an anxiety attack. This caused him to take the pills more and more frequently. The added stress of flying, an unfortunate confrontation with security, and the fact that he skipped breakfast that morning causing the pills to be digested that much faster, all contributed to this uncontrolled shift.
“This information has been given to the police, and they are attempting to track where the pills came from. The shifter in question has pled guilty to charges of vandalism, destruction of public and private property, and resisting arrest. He received conditional sentencing earlier this week. In addition to that, he is being monitored closely by the local werebear clan and must shift, in a controlled and safe environment, a minimum of once every forty-eight hours, in an attempt to prevent another uncontrolled shift.
“It is my duty as mayor not only to keep you informed but to provide you with helpful information, such as what to do if you are present when a shifter changes to their animal form. First and foremost is not to panic. Clear the area quickly and quietly as you would in any other emergency situation. Inform emergency services. Do not attempt to approach the animal or scare it away. Werebears and werewolves are both predatory animals. Retreat from them the same way you would if you encountered a bear or coyote while camping. One of my missions as mayor is to see our police officers, police tactical units, and EMTs educated on how to deal with shifters in their animal form.
“I can tell you from personal experience that shifting is disorienting. I come to in my bear shape and everything is out of focus, sounds are muffled, lights are too bright. In those first moments, I am most likely to lash out simply because I cannot identify if the thing approaching me is friend or foe. As humans, we believe in identifying a threat before reacting, but the bear runs on instinct and will defend itself without question or hesitation, so it is critical that you get away from a shifter quickly when they are changing.”
Gia heard something in his voice, a painful honesty, and she wondered if anyone else in the crowd heard it. He almost sounded vulnerable, as if sharing his own experiences of shifting was like sharing some inner secret of weakness. Would they report on his sincerity, his humanity? Or would they sensationalize his darkest secrets? Did they understand that he was putting himself on the line, exposing himself for them? She was pretty sure she knew the answer.
Where did he go? In the moment, she had taken to scan the crowd for some sign that they understood the depth and importance of Brock’s confession, the stony-faced young man had disappeared, a ghost in the crowd. Her eyes skimmed along from face to face, searching, but he was long gone.
“I would offer one more reassurance. Shape shifting is a genetic condition. You cannot catch shape shifting any more than you can catch Down syndrome, cystic fibrosis, or hemophilia. It is not a magical curse or an infectious disease. You cannot be ‘turned’. Shape shifters have long been forbidden by their clans from donating blood, as no one knows how humans would react to a transfusion of shifter blood. My father was a shifter, my mother was not. They are not the first mixed couple in history and certainly not the last. Intermarriage and intimate relations between humans and shifters cause no ill effects in the human partner.”
“So, you’re okay with having a human woman as a wife?”
“That is changing the subject,” Brock said, chuckling. “And I’m not sharing my list of ‘what I look for in a potential partner’ with you from the steps of City Hall. You’ll have to wait for a talk show interview, I’m afraid.”
Everyone chuckled or at least smiled at that. Would the hard-faced man have smiled? Gia wondered, still looking for him.
“I have received letters from concerned citizens asking what I am going to do about shifters on a legal front. Registration is out of the question. We do not ask homosexuals to register themselves. We do not ask people of specific religions to register themselves. We will not ask shifters to register themselves. I believe that goes against the fundamental freedoms of this country. Shifters already inform their doctors of their genetic condition and most inform their lawyers as well. Under clan law, a shifter must tell the person they are dating before they have intimate relations and before they propose. Discussions between clans are ongoing on the subject of medical alert bracelets so EMTs are aware of the potential for a person involved in a car accident to shift while in care. We are walking a fine line between freedom and safety. Shifters want to know they are safe from persecution, and humans must be kept safe from the dangers of living side by side with shifters.”
“So shifters are dangerous?” someone asked.
Brock chuckled. “Cars are dangerous, guns are dangerous, wild animals are dangerous, dogs can be dangerous, hell walking up a flight of stairs can be dangerous. The world is dangerous. Right now, standing in front of you, I am not dangerous. If you approached me while I was in my bear form I might be. Our human minds are there, in the bear or the wolf, and we have some control—how much depends on the shifter and on the situation. We are careful around things that have the potential to be dangerous. I am asking people to be careful around shifters to minimize the risk of dangerous situations.”
The question and answer went on for some time after that, but Gia wasn’t paying attention. Someone asked something about weed. Someone else asked about the cost of the training programs he wanted to introduce. She knew that some of the reporters were simply looking to clarify parts of Brock’s statement. The rest were hoping to bait him into saying something controversial, shocking, or easily misconstrued.
It seemed like the press conference was winding down and fewer people were shouting questions. Finally, Brock said, “If there’s nothing else …?”
And that’s when Gia spotted the hard-faced man on the edge of the crowd—and he was no longer alone.
Chapter 6
“He’s lying!”
Brock’s whole body went tense as the words rang out across the lawn. His eyes quickly settled on the threat, a group of young men near the sidewalk, off to one side of the crowd. They were dressed tough, snug shirts, jeans, heavy black boots, a few had piercings. His heart was pounding, and he was suddenly very aware of the little things around him.
Security was pouring out of the building. Behind him, Gia gasped. He hoped she had enough sense to go back inside. Reporters were turning to get pictures of them. Questions rippled through the crowd.
“I think every politician since Honest Abe has faced that accusation,” Brock said into the microphone. The chuckles from the gathered reporters sounded nervous. The men were not obviously armed, but they were intimidating.
“There are more shifters out there than they let on,” the young man shouted.
“I have acknowledged the existence of only three werebears—myself, the young man who shifted at the airport, and our clan leader. Everyone knows about Michael Hemming, the actor, so that makes four. I should hope there are more shifters than that in North America.” His calm replies seemed to anger the shouter and agitate his followers.
“They’re worse than blacks! They’re trying to foul our humanity with their devil-curse. This one was elected to pave the way for them here in New Orleans. You’ll see. Soon other cities will have shifters in seats of power. They could already control the police! We won’t know unless we know the identity of each and every shifter. That’s why he’s against registration. He doesn’t want you to see how deep the conspiracy runs. He doesn’t want to reveal how close they are to taking over everything.”
“Sir, I’m sure that nothing I say here today will convince you otherwise, but I have to ask you to stop spreading your fear and your hatred. New Orleans is a city of blended cultures unlike any other in our country. In the face of rising racial tensions, let’s not add a hatred of shifters to the list of bigotry we as a nation have to overcome. We have lived peacefully alongside you for generations. Honestly, in this era of digital media, instant communication, and global networking, it’s actually harder to keep a secret than ever before. Conspiracies are easily revealed and impossible to conceal. And I, for one, do not approve of such things.”
It was lame, even he knew that, but he had to say something to counter the charges being laid publicly against him, even if those charges sounded insane to him. I’m guessing this is the Human Order, he thought.
“I’ll prove he’s a liar!” the man shouted.
Where the gun came from Brock didn’t know, but he shouted, “Gun! Get down!” The microphones amplified his words, and the speakers hummed with feedback for a moment, adding to the panic of the moment.
Security rushed forward as Brock dove for the ground. Gia was crouched behind the chairs. Her eyes were wide and her face was flushed. Her face turned to him, and he could see the fear in her eyes. The urge to protect surged through him, and he scrambled to his feet, moving toward her.
The shot echoed off the building, and people in the crowd screamed. Gia screamed, her hands going over her ears. Brock heard the whistle of the bullet and moved instinctively away from the sound, even though he knew that by the time he heard the whine it was too late to move.
He grabbed Gia and hurried her toward the building. If he was the target, he wasn’t going to be the greatest body guard. More shots rang out. She was stumbling along, whimpering. He smelled sweat and fear and blood.
They got inside as security locked down the building. Gia sagged in his arms breathing hard.
“I think she’s been hit,” Brock said. He sat Gia on the floor and crouched over her. The wound was obvious, a tear in her jacket sleeve that was seeping red.
With extreme care, Brock helped her out of her jacket. Someone behind him said, “I have first aid. I can …”
“So do I,” Brock said.
“The blood …”
“I’m fine,” Brock growled.
The helpful young staffer backed off, hands up. When he was far enough back, Brock took his eyes off him and went back to Gia’s wounds.
Her shirt was ruined too, but he left it on her for decency. Instead, he tore the sleeve off. He could buy her another. And another jacket too. He would do that for her. It was a graze wound, an ugly tear in the skin of her arm. “It doesn’t look too deep.”
“It hurts,” she hissed between clenched teeth.
“It’s going to hurt for a while,” he said.
“Do you want an ambulance?”
“No,” Brock said. “We don’t know how well armed they are. They may be waiting for an ambulance to pull up. I need bandages and pain killers.”
He wrapped the wound securely and offered her the pills and a glass of water. She took them and then leaned back against the wall. Feeling suddenly helpless, he settled himself beside her. The stone wall was surprisingly cool.
There’s nothing you can do to help her, he thought. Just focus on your self-control.
The minutes ticked by. Around him people talked, but he didn’t focus on the words.
“You’re sweating.”
He smiled at the sound of her voice, but his eyes stayed closed. “It’s hot.”
“City Hall is air conditioned.”
“Then I’ll cool down soon.”
“Your skin looks clammy, like you’re the one who got shot.”
“If I had gotten shot, I’d know it. You’re feeling better, I take it?”
“Hurts like a bitch,” she said, “but my head is clearing. I’m getting better and you’re getting worse.”
He wanted to say, ‘I’m fine,’ but he knew it to be a lie, and if he wanted her to trust him he couldn’t lie to her, not about this.
“It’s the stress,” he said, “Seeing you hurt, seeing those men trying to hurt people, I’m just trying to calm down. I have to keep this under control.”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
“Is it safe for you to shift here?”
He thought of the people huddled around, waiting for something to happen, the security officers with their guns, the Human Order outside with their guns. He shook his head. “No.”
“Then you need to get out of here.”
“There’s no sign of people out back,” someone said. “Security ordered us all to stay inside until the police give the all clear, but I’m sure in this case …”
Brock understood. The parking lot was out back. He nodded and climbed to his feet, fishing car keys out of his pocket. He finally opened his eyes. “I need to go,” he said. He could see everyone in the room staring at him. They were nervous, frightened. A few were on their phones.
“I’m going to a safe house to shift. Once the bear is certain that he is safe—that I am safe—he will calm down and I’ll be able to shift back. Stay safe, all of you.”
“Sir, given the circumstances, someone from security should go with you.”
He shook his head. “The bear doesn’t always recognize the difference between a defender and an attacker, especially when guns are involved. It wouldn’t be safe.”
“I’ll go,” Gia said, pulling herself to her feet.
“You’ve been shot. You need a hospital as soon as it’s safe to get you to one. You need to stay here. The police will get you help faster than I can.”
“You said it yourself, it’s not too deep. As soon as you’re human again you can take me. You said you’d shift for me, right?”
He forgot about everyone else in the room. “Not like this, Gia. Not while the beast is raging.”
She raised her chin. “I’m going.” She took the car keys from his trembling hands. “I’ll drive. Just tell me where to go.”
It was mostly the pain killers that had given her enough false bravado to talk the car keys out of Brock’s hands. Now that Gia was alone in the car with him, pushing her way through the crowded streets of New Orleans, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d end up with a full grown black bear in the back seat of the car before they reached this mysterious safe house. She also wondered how more shifters didn’t explode into wolves or bears just driving. Traffic was awful, but then again, it was rush hour and there was an emergency going on at City Hall.
She was afraid they’d have to drive clear across the city, or worse, to some out of the way location beyond the city limits. Instead they ended up in an old industrial area. She skidded to a halt in front of a warehouse. The building looked old and rundown, with a few boarded-over windows, but as she got out of the car she noted the state-of-the-art security key panel at the door.
She opened Brock’s door. “I hope you still know the door code,” she said.
He handed her his phone as he passed by her. “Call Remy.” He hit a series of buttons and the lock released. He opened the door but stopped when she moved to follow him. “No. Not safe.”
“I said I was going with you.” She was trembling, she knew it. She could hear it in her voice. She took a deep breath. “You said I had to trust you.”
“Then trust me. This isn’t the time for …” He groaned and stumbled into the room. She followed him in and shut the door behind them.
She found an out-of-the-way corner and swiped the screen on his phone. “Remy, Remy,” she muttered. “Ah, here it is.” She hit ‘dial’ and waited.
“Hello?” God, this man sounded like a bear. He had a voice like James Earl Jones, only deeper.
“Is this Remy?”
“It is. Who are you? And why are you calling me from Brock’s phone?” Of course, this would be his cell phone number she was calling, so Brock’s name would come up on his screen.
“I’m Gia, his assistant.”
“Ah, the dreaded temp. What can I do for you?”
Dreaded? Oh, she’d have words with Brock for that one later. “I’m at the safe house with Brock. He said to call you. There was a shooting at City Hall.”
“Was he injured?”
“No. But I was. He said to call you. He’s shifting.”
“Gia, go wait outside in the parking lot. I will be right there, but you do not want to be alone with that bear right now.” The line went dead.
Brock screamed, but it sounded more bear than human. Gia peered out. She had been at the airport that day a month ago, had seen the bear knocking over luggage like a child with stacking blocks throwing a tantrum in his nursery, but she hadn’t actually witnessed the change.
Brock was on the floor, his back to her, and he was naked. His back was pure muscle, right down to his very well-shaped ass. He had runner’s legs that now ended in huge black paws. She couldn’t be sure where the bear’s fur ended and his leg hair began. His legs changed then, growing thicker. He pulled himself up on all fours and she could see his arms had changed as well.
She smiled. How funny he looked, a man with the legs of a bear. His body swelled and the fur spread, hiding his nakedness. His ears moved and changed as his face rounded out. The last thing to appear was his nose, black and shiny.
He turned to look at her and there was no smiling now. He was a bear, fully and completely. She took two careful steps back.
I come to in my bear shape and everything is out of focus, sounds are muffled, lights are too bright. In those first moments, I am most likely to lash out simply because I cannot identify if the thing approaching me is friend or foe.
His words came back to her and she took another step back. Best wait until he’ll recognizes me, she thought. Wait for what? Best to just get out of here. You’ve seen him shift, now go wait in the parking lot like you were told. And yet a part of her resisted. He wanted you to pet him, to get to know him like this. She forced her body toward the door. Later. He also said it wasn’t safe now.
She went out, not caring that she didn’t know the door code and wouldn’t be able to get back in. She went to the car and retrieved her purse, digging through it for her phone.
Two missed calls from her mother and a text message from her father. Dealing with her father would be faster, so she opened the message.
“Saw the news. You ok?”
She smiled at the phone and texted back, “Fine. I’ll call later.”
“How is the mayor?” came the reply.
“Fine too.”
“You’re certain?”
She looked over her shoulder at the warehouse and then typed, “Positive.”
She called her mother and reassured her that she was fine but that she was busy and needed to focus. Her mother was hysterical, of course, and Gia was still trying to calm her when a little two-door Toyota pulled into the lot.
“I have to go, Mom. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
Gia was expecting a man bigger than Brock to wedge himself out of the tiny car, so when she saw the dark-haired flag pole coming toward her she hesitated. “Are you Remy?”
He nodded and held out his hand. “Yes I am. I’m Brock’s clan leader. And you must be Gia.”
“Did he really call me ‘the dreaded temp’?”
“Only before he actually met you. I can see why he stopped. Did he make it inside?”
“Yes.”
“I need to check on him. Stay out here.”
“I want to come back in.”
He shook his head. “That would be a really bad idea. He’ll recognize me as a dominant bear. He may not recognize you, and if he hurts you I have to kill him.”
“He trusts me. And I trust him. He won’t hurt me.”
“Brock won’t, you’re right, but I don’t know how much of Brock is in there right now.”
“It doesn’t matter because I know his door code,” she lied. “I’ll just follow you in.”
He sighed. “Fine. If I can’t keep you out, I’ll just have to keep you close.”
Remy tapped a few numbers on the pad and the door opened. The black bear was padding around the warehouse, sniffing things. He tucked his nose under a chair and tipped it.
“At least you’re not smashing them,” Remy said in a loud voice.
The bear’s head jerked up and it stared at them. Gia’s heart was pounding. After a long moment, the bear huffed and went back to exploring.
Remy nodded. “He’ll let us be here. We’ll just sit back now and wait.”
“He said he would change for me. He said he wanted me to pet him and get to know the bear.”
“I’m sorry, but until Brock gets enough control that he can walk calmly up to you, you aren’t touching that bear. Right now, approaching him could be asking to have your hand taken off.”
“How long will it take?”
Remy studied her a long time until she felt her cheeks heating up. “I don’t know. It depends on a lot of things. How badly were you injured?”
“Do you think that’s affecting him?”
Remy shrugged. “Just making small talk.”
They made small talk for over an hour. Weather. Sports. Recreational habits. Where did he work? Know any good seafood places? Gia had almost forgotten there was a wild animal sharing the space with them.
And then that wild animal wandered right up to them. Gia pulled back, her body going stiff.
Remy just stared down at the bear, gold eyes meeting gold. Finally, he said, “Our friend here is as safe as he can be. Remember that he is a wild animal. If he starts huffing at you or trying to make himself look bigger, it means he’s warning you off. Listen to him.”
“You’re not going to leave, are you?”
“No. I won’t go far. Just move slowly.”
Gia nodded. The bear standing before her was longer nose-to-tail than Brock was tall, but not by much, and only stood three feet at the shoulder. Still, there had to be three hundred pounds of muscle on him, and the claws on the end of his eight-inch feet were long and curved. All this added up to one very intimidating creature. But he was staring at her with Brock’s eyes.
“Okay Brock,” she said, and reached out her hand.
He sniffed it, his breath hot on her skin, and his nose felt like a dog’s, only wider. When he stopped sniffing she laid her hand on his snout and then ran it up between his eyes to the top of his head. His fur was softer than she expected and thick. She rubbed his jaw behind his ears because so many animals enjoyed that. He seemed to as well. As she moved to stroke his side, his head turned and those big golden eyes tracked her.
“You could sell tickets for this,” she said. “I know a lot of people who would love to be this close to a real bear. They wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference. Except for your eyes. Could bears wear colored contacts I wonder?”
He gave her a soft whuffle-whine and cocked his head.
“You’re right. That would be dumb. Still, you are amazing.”
He stretched like a cat and dropped his body to the floor. She sat and he put his head in her lap. She spoke softly as she stroked his cheek and neck, her fingers trailing almost idly through his fur. The words weren’t really important. Her hour with Remy had shown her that. Small talk, musings, and random thoughts were all okay, as long as she kept her voice steady and gentle. It was almost like soothing a child.
At some point the stress, pain, and pain killers took their toll on her, and she dozed off leaning against a steel pillar in the middle of a warehouse with a black bear on her lap.
When she woke up, it wasn’t bear fur wrapped around her fingers but hair. Human hair. Brock’s hair. She glanced down to see Brock was human—and very naked. She looked away, her cheeks burning, and said, “Brock.”
He stirred and sat up. “You stayed,” he said.
“Yes. Thank you for letting me meet the bear. He was marvelous. But, uh, shouldn’t you get dressed?”
“Gia, I’m sorry for what I put you through today. Of our clan, my control is second only to Remy’s. What happened at City Hall today wouldn’t have affected me, except you got hurt.”
“Why would that change things?” she asked, forgetting for a moment that he was naked as she turned to talk to him. He was closer than she expected, and they were now nose-to-nose.
In answer, he leaned forward, closing that narrow gap, and kissed her. His lips were soft and warm against hers. Her hand found its way back into his hair and she held on. He cupped her cheek as the kiss deepened from gentle and chaste to eager and full of longing. It had been a long time since she’d been kissed.
He reached for her with both arms, wrapping them around her and pulling her onto his lap. She curled there, pressed against his chest, as they continued to kiss. He caught her lower lip gently between his teeth.
Before things could move from eager to passionate, someone cleared their throat. Brock released her lip and they both looked down, their foreheads touching. Gia became very aware of Brock’s erection, pressed between his stomach and the side of her leg. Blushing she uncurled from his lap and stood, straightening her skirt.
“I’ll—uh—let you get dressed. Excuse me.”
Behind her she could hear the two men talking, but she blocked them out. Her heart was hammering and she needed to calm down. At that moment, her phone rang and she charged across the room to her purse, desperate for the distraction.
When she answered and her mother wailed, “You didn’t tell me you got shot!” she was less sure she wanted this particular distraction.
“Mom, I’m fine. I’m just at an emergency meeting with my boss and then I’m going to the hospital.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I’m fine—and I didn’t want you to freak out on me.”
“Why didn’t you go to the hospital first?”
Because a bear in a hospital would have been worse than a bear in an airport. “Because it wasn’t bad and because there was a more pressing emergency. I’m going to go to the hospital now, and then I’m coming over. You can cook me dinner tonight. Okay?”
“You’re right. You need a proper meal tonight, not that takeout garbage your father brings you. I’ll fix something special.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”
With something useful to do, Mrs. Carosa hung up the phone. Gia sighed and put the phone back in her purse.
“So, I’m taking you to the hospital?” Brock said.
She blushed at the sound of his voice and looked at him. He was dressed again, and aside from his suit being rumpled by being tossed so hastily aside earlier he looked no worse for wear.
And rumpled looks good on him.
“You should, since you got me shot.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Or is that too much trouble to spare for the ‘dreaded temp?’”
He rolled his eyes skyward and stretched out his hands. “You had to tell her. I’m not going to live this down.” When he looked at her again he was grinning. “I think I can manage a trip to the hospital, even for you.”
“I haven’t heard you admit that this was your fault,” she said.
Remy snorted. “Be careful with this one,” he said. “And be careful with this Human Order. I don’t want to see either of you getting seriously hurt.”
They went out together to find it was full dark. “I guess I was a bear for a while there,” Brock said. “Well, I guess we’re going to emergency then. Come on.”
“Can you handle the waiting room?” she teased.
“I’ll be fine.” Brock shook Remy’s hand and then took the car keys from Gia. “Let’s go.”