Page 17 of Bearnapped at the Altar

“No. I only know it from The Real Werewives.” My heart was pounding, like somehow I’d failed a test. “Some of the contestants work at an animal shelter, and they celebrate the good things that happen with cupcakes. It’s a small town, so I assume it’s the only bakery.”

The suspicion didn’t leave Barrett’s face, but he put one of those ooey, gooey dreamboats on my plate and pushed it toward me.

“I got you some clothes too,” he said.

I was still in his button-down shirt from last night, and too hungry to feel self-conscious about the lack of bra underneath. I’d taken a shower while Barrett was gone. It felt amazing to wash the filth of Moonlight Mates away.

“Nothing fancy. Stretchy stuff I knew would fit. Things you could move in, if needed. Like you said, ladies’ sizes are tricky.” His expression darkened, and I was pretty sure he was thinking about his lost mate. Or his daughter that he missed dearly. “Once you’re done with breakfast, we need to talk about Silverclaw.”

My belly soured, and I pushed my plate away. I had nothing to be nervous about, yet here I was, scared that whatever I said would make Barrett change his mind about this job. Like he’d bring me back there and I’d have to marry Gideon after all.

Why did I even care? He’d done what I’d needed him to do, gotten me away from Silverclaw.

For now.

Barrett was a decent man, and after dealing with Gideon at Wild Adventures and Moonlight Mates, I appreciated that more than ever. And it was time to come to terms with the fact that getting away from my former boss was only the first step in actually bringing him to justice.

I needed more of this bear’s help than just getting me out of the wedding.

“Finally,” I said. “My friends dismissed my concerns, claiming everyone had a horrible boss, and obviously I couldn’t vent about him at Moonlight Mates, because he was the star of the show.”

“Did you try to talk to the producers about Gideon?” Barrett asked.

“Of course, but I got shut down every time. I told them I’d be happy to wait for another episode, since we’d worked together before and things ended badly. Their response? Viewers would love a redemption romance storyline. So I pushed harder, asking them if they thought it was odd we wound up on the same episode. They insisted it meant we were fated to be together. If that’s fate, I have to say, I kinda hate it.”

“When you get claimed by your true mate, you know it.” A low rumble vibrated through Barrett. “What happened before the show started? You got fired, right?”

“I did.”

Barrett was still rumbling, and it was distracting. I cut one of those delectable looking cinnamon rolls, and if there was ever a timing for distractions and icing, this was it. “I worked for Wild Adventures for three years. They specialized in letting humans get close-up shifter experiences. Probably too close. We brought tour groups to pack lands, and they would get to see how shifters lived. They could hear local legends, talk to the pack elders, and learn about the pack. It was fascinating. Humans really liked it, but of course, there were a few one-star drama queens who thought our tours were boring. Gideon wouldn’t stand for that.”

“What did he do about it?” Bellamy asked.

“He started staging scenarios to make things more exciting for the customers. Like he’d pay members of the pack to shift into their animal forms while we were on the tour. I was supposed to act surprised, but it was so exploitive. I hated it. Other times, he’d send his guys into start fights with the pack, because the humans got excited about the drama.”

A rumble emitted from Barrett. “Do you have proof of this?”

“I recorded some conversations on my phone. Bits and pieces.” Which I hoped made sense when played back. I didn’t think I’d ever see the physical phone again, but I held onto hope that Bellamy would be able to access my files.

“What does it have to do with him buying up shifter land and displacing packs?” Barrett crossed his arms in front of his chest. Today he was wearing a muscle-hugging black T-shirt and cargo pants. It made him look like a mercenary, a badass, and sweet moon, did I ever appreciate it.

“I overheard plans that he has to buy the land where we do the tours, and then make all the members of the pack his employees—” I made air quotes around the word, because they’d have no choice to work for him if they wanted to live on the land that had belonged to their pack for generations— “so he can pull the strings however he wishes. Kind of like live action theater, but the actors never get to stop working.”

“If you had some help,” –Barrett grinned, making air quotes around help— “would you be able to find the evidence?”

“You mean go back to my old office and look for it?” I gulped.

“Possibly,” he said. “Or maybe Bellamy would be able to access their database remotely.”

“Hack it.”

“It’s not any less ethical than what Gideon plans to do.” Bellamy growled, and it didn’t have anywhere near the same effect on me as when his boss did it. “When were you fired?”

“Six months ago.”

“When did you discover Gideon’s plan?” Bellamy asked.

“A week before that. I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with what was happening, but I was afraid to leave the job because I thought I’d be able to help the shifters more if I knew what was going on. If I could stop them from being exploited. I didn’t have a plan, instead I was holding onto hope that Gideon knowing I was onto him would stop him from doing something awful.”

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