Page 5 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
I stare into the steam floating up from the cup I’m clinging to, trying to figure what the hell I’m going to do now, and how mad Amber will be if she reappears, and I’ve spent all our savings on a private bodyguard.
My spiralling thoughts are only broken when the bell above the door chimes, startling me.
The man who walks in looks exactly like someone you’d call at three in the morning when your life is falling apart.
Seven minutes. That’s all it took him to get here, according to the white plastic clock hanging on the wall.
He’s tall, very tall, and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that’s already damp from the rain. His clothes are rumpled, thrown on in a hurry. Jeans, boots, leather jacket over a wrinkled T-shirt.
There’s nothing special about any of it, but it’s the way he moves that catches my attention. He’s controlled, alert, and extremely confident, like someone who knows they’re the most dangerous man in the room.
No wonder everyone is staring at him.
He scans the diner, cataloging the occupants before his dark eyes settle on me. He takes in the blood, the soaked clothes clinging to me, and the way I’m shaking, despite the warm drink.
A brief flash of anger flickers across his face when he sees the state I’m in, and his jaw clenches, making him look even more intimidating than before.
Without breaking stride, he slides his jacket off his shoulders, revealing a physique that has the server smoothing down her hair and tidying up her uniform. The simple plain black T-shirt does nothing to hide the muscles bulging beneath as he moves.
Morrison stands as he approaches, shoulders square, as he looks up at the man heading straight for me. “And you are?”
“Beau.” He extends a hand, which Morrison takes after a beat. He knows this is no family friend coming to pick up a damsel in distress. This is a professional.
“Beau who?”
Beau’s stony expression softens to a friendly smile as he artfully avoids answering Morrison’s question.
“Don’t worry, gentlemen. I’m not here to step on any toes or hijack your investigation. Just to get the lady someplace safe before she freezes to death.”
Everyone looks at me, and I feel more exposed than ever. I’ve always hated being the center of attention, let alone when I look like a drowned rat.
Morrison momentarily looks guilty, like he’s only just realising now that I’m trembling, but quickly, his focus returns to Beau. His eyes narrow as he stares up at him.
“Where do I know you from? If you’re going to cause trouble…”
Beau’s eyes flick to me, then back to Morrison as he holds his hands up to placate the man. “No trouble, I swear. Someone just needs to keep an eye on her while you guys do your job. That’s all I’m trying to do.”
Morrison’s eyes light up with recognition, and he wags a finger in Beau’s direction.
“Lennox private security. The Willis case. That’s where I know you from.” His tone is scathing, but then the tension in Morrison’s shoulders eases slightly. He glances between us and sighs. “She’s had a rough night. Might have been someone in her place, but it’s hard to tell. Looks like it’s locked up tight.”
I bristle, and Beau notices the firm set of my jaw as I hold back from saying what I really want.
“I believe her,” Beau states simply, not even a question. “And I’ll keep her safe.”
Stepping past the officer who continues to stare at his back, Beau hands his leather jacket to me, and I slip it on gratefully, the warmth of it calming my frazzled nerves immediately.
Morrison pulls out his card and waits until Beau moves to the counter and asks the server about CCTV to hand it to me. “That’s my direct line. Call if anything happens.” He looks at Beau, features pinched. “Do you know who that is? That he’s a Lennox?”
I don’t know what that means, all I know is he came highly recommended and he believes me, so I nod.
“Okay. But be careful. Their reputation for being dangerous is well-deserved…”
I blink, momentarily taken-aback, but then as I remember that feeling of panic as I clambered out my bedroom window, I decide dangerous is exactly what I need.
With a sigh, Morrison extends his notepad to me.
“I’ll do what I can. Give me your number, and we’ll let you know if we find any evidence of a break-in.”
