For Shift's Sake: Paranormal shapeshifter alpha werebear soldier BBW romance
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Authors: Mina Carter
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For Shift’s Sake
MINA CARTER
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Copyright
Copyright
2015 Mina Carter
Cover Art
by Mina Carter
Edited
by Tina Winograd
Published by Blue Hedgehog Press
: December 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Author's note
: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
Chapter One
A British werebear in Banford.
Reese Connor’s lips quirked up in sardonic amusement. It sounded like a crap B-movie, but it was nothing less than the truth. He was British. He was a werebear, or more technically correct, an ursanthrope. But he was, indeed, in a bloody backwater town called Banford, Tennessee.
He was only here under protest. Extreme protest since he’d been heading across country to Vegas. Well, that had been the plan until an old buddy called with a problem. He’d only agreed because it sounded like Danny was about to cry. Which was bullshit really; Reese couldn’t imagine Daniel Bradbury crying. Ever.
Like Reese, he was a bear shifter. Like Reese, he’d bounced around several elite units until they’d found themselves on a multi-national team so covert, it didn’t even have a name. Just a number. S-17.
No, Danny wouldn’t have cried, but he might have broken into song, which was almost as bad. To say the guy sang as well as a duck with a cold was an insult to ducks.
“I didn’t know you had a sister”
was his first comment when Danny finished speaking.
And he hadn’t. Despite the fact they’d shared blood, sweat, and more firefights than either cared to count, at no point had Danny ever mentioned his family. Of course, Reese knew he probably had one. Werebears didn’t just spring out of nowhere, fully formed. Until now though, the subject of Danny’s family had been an abstract concept.
“You didn’t tell me your mom was as hot as fuck, so that makes us even.”
Reese had sighed, shaking his head as traffic hurtled by him where he’d pulled his bike to the side of the road. The mom joke, he’d expected that one. He should never have shown Danny that picture of his family.
“Fuck me, Bradbury. Do you have any barriers?”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s what she said.”
Reese had been forced to laugh. “
Dickhead.”
“Bitch. Anyway, listen.” Danny had fallen serious.
“I’m stuck out of the country at the moment or I’d go myself. Since you’ve got fuck all to do in your cushy retirement there, I figured you could swing by on your way to Vegas. It’s a small town called Banford…”
Las Vegas. That had been the plan. Down the country, then across. After so many years fighting for Queen and country in the arse end of beyond, he didn’t care how long it took. It was nice to feel the wind in his hair rather than passing bullets and a chance he’d never thought he’d get. Men like him didn’t often get happily ever after, or retirement. Usually they went down in a blaze of glory in some shithole no one cared about. Very few mourned their passing.
“Yeah, got it. What’s your sister’s name?”
“Thanks, bud. It’s Bobbi. Bobbi Bradbury.”
He’d sensed Danny’s relief despite the miles that separated them. He had no idea where Danny was and the guy wouldn’t tell him if he asked. That was the nature of what they did. What he
used
to do.
“And Reese?”
“Yeah?”
He hadn’t really been listening as he spread a roadmap over the gas tank in front of him. Sure, he had GPS but he’d been in too many places without the ability to charge electronic equipment to be comfortable traveling without a map and compass.
You could take the bear out of the army and all that…
“She doesn’t know about us. And I’m not talking about the secret squirrel shit.”
Five little words and he’d frozen, gaze fixed on the map unseeingly.
“Never thought I’d hear myself saying this, but I sure as fuck hope you’re talking about all those hot showers and long walks on the beach.”
“Dude, I told you never to tell anyone about those,” Danny threw back with a chuckle.
“Seriously, though, she’s human. No bear in there at all.”
“Huh.” Reese had sat back, bike balanced between his thighs. For once he was at a loss for words.
“Mom wanted a little girl, and well, you know how it is…”
Yeah, he did. Ursanthrope couples struggled to have kids at the best of times and nine times out of ten, the cubs were male. It was the reason their numbers were rapidly dwindling and bears like him were unlikely to find that most elusive of treasures: a true mate. Most he knew had given in and shacked up with human women, while the few bear females out there were hotly fought over.
“So they adopted Bobbi, but they never told her. After they passed, I just didn’t have the heart. I didn’t want to change her memories of them, you know?”
“Yeah, I hear you. No problem, bud, won’t take me long to get there.”
And it hadn’t. Turning the bike around, just a few hours later Reese had become a British werebear in Banford…
Actually, he mused as he sat in the one local diner and swirled the coffee in his mug, it sounded like a bad porno. Perhaps he should hit up a bar and see if he could pick up a sexy local for some fun.
His bear growled at the thought but he ignored it. The contrary beast had been getting grumpier over the last year, always searching for that unique scent that would mark their mate. Reese knew it was never going to happen, and he’d resigned himself to that fact, but it seemed his bear still lived in hope. Perhaps in Vegas… All he had to do here was check up on Danny’s sister and he’d be on his way. Shouldn’t take more than a day or so.
Reese looked up to study the black-haired waitress behind the counter. Young, she had an edgy style he wasn’t quite feeling, like it was a mask she used to fend off the world. Not what he expected. But she was here, and “see in the diner” was the only answer he’d been given when he enquired after Bobbi Bradbury.
So far, he was totally failing to see any family resemblance between emo-chick glaring at her phone behind the counter and his friend. Yeah, sure, they weren’t biologically related but they’d been brought up in the same house by the same people. There should be some similarities. He sighed to himself as he swallowed the last mouthful of coffee in the bottom of the mug.
Great, he got to babysit a brat. Danny
so
owed him one…screw it, make that several…for this.
Putting his mug down, Reese began to slide out of the booth. All the furnishings in the diner seemed to be rejects from the fifties and not built to accommodate his six-foot-four frame. Bears were built big and he was no exception. Big and with his former occupation having kept him in prime physical condition, he looked like a total gym bunny.
Amusement rolled through him at the thought. A gym bunny with a penchant for heavy weaponry and explosives.
The bell on the door jangled but it wasn’t the sound that froze him in his tracks. Instead, it was the rabbit in the headlights look on emo-chick’s face. It was a look of fear. One that spoke of the desire to run far and fast, but edged with the steely determination not to. His estimation of emo-chick shot up. He’d have expected her to cut and run at the first sign of trouble.
Two men strode into the diner like they owned it. They were suited and booted but he’d eat his hat if they were office workers. Not looking like they’d been crammed into those suits with Vaseline and a shoehorn. No, they had the heavy builds and predatory manner of the professional bruiser. He should know, it was a role he’d often played.
Easing his ass back into the seat, he pretended like he had a full mug of coffee and zero interest in the world around him. It was a rare skill for a man as big as he was to go unnoticed but he’d always had a talent for it. The science bods on the team said it was something to do with his bear’s hunting technique combined with his military training. He didn’t know, didn’t care. It came in useful on occasion. Like now.
“Andy. Chris.” Emo-chick greeted the two men coolly as they cosied up to the counter. “What can I get you boys today?”
“That’s mighty nice of you.” Goon one smiled, flipping his jacket back to rest a hand on his hip as he leaned against the counter. From this angle, Reese couldn’t see a holster but the tang of gun oil reached his sensitive nose. That one, at least, was packing. Probably in a shoulder holster, or more likely, stuffed down the back of his pants. The ability to know which opponents were armed was another reason his old unit used shifters.
“Ain’t that nice of her, Andy?” Goon one prompted his friend, who only grunted. The talker was Chris then. Not that Reese cared, but he filed the information in case it proved useful later.
“We’ll take a coffee each, and some of them pancakes you’re so good at making,” Chris carried on, leaning back and leering over the counter to check out emo-chick’s ass as she turned. “That’s what I like to see. A woman who knows her place…the kitchen.”
Reese fought the growl that wanted to break free. Neither he nor his bear liked the disrespect this guy was showing the girl. His training kicked in and he assessed the situation as he would any other mission.
Two shooters, both smelled human, a couple of civvies, plus emo-chick. Lines of fire weren’t good. If the shit hit the fan, the two trucker types by the door were toast. As if on cue, they finished up. Mugs and cutlery clattered on the table as they stood, throwing some dollar bills on the table before beating feet for the door.
His eyes narrowed as he took another swallow from his empty mug and reached for the folded up newspaper on the corner of the table. Interesting. Locals clearing out said they knew trouble was coming.
“So, beautiful, we need to talk about the insurance.”
And there it was. Fingers steepled over the top of his mug, Reese rolled it around its base. Insurance. A lovely little word that covered a multitude of sins. Here and now, with these two, it was obvious someone in Banford was running a protection racket.
Not these two though. He ran an assessing glance over them. Thick set and heavy, their expressions hinted at minds just as closed. Unless he was way off mark, neither possessed the mental agility to find their arses with both hands, never mind anything more complicated. No, these were hired muscle. After all, why bark when you have a dog?
“There must be some mistake.” Emo-chick didn’t back down despite the implicit threat hanging in the air. Instead, she slammed the coffee mugs down in front of the two men. The anger filled move said she’d rather tip the contents over them.
“The boss paid it last week.”
Boss. The word reverberated through Reese. When he’d asked in town about Bobbi Bradbury, the old guy sitting on the single park bench in what he assumed was the town square had nodded toward the diner with the words “runs that.” So boss meant emo-chick wasn’t Danny’s sister.
For some inexplicable reason, relief rolled through him. Not Danny’s sister. Why that should matter he didn’t know, but it did.
“Maybe.” Chris made a show of blowing the steam from the top of his coffee mug. “But Mr. Riley says this place is a gold mine and you need to pay the extra premium.”
