Avenge the Bear (2 page)

Fury snaked through Reese’s veins and she clenched her fists against the urge to break the woman’s nose. She hated her. Muriel was sweet and good, and had finally found happiness after she gave everything to these two clans. She was mated and married to Logan, and certainly no whore. Reese wanted to clock the smirk right off Rieland’s face.

“This way,” the woman said with an empty smile. She turned on her heel and walked toward the office.

Reese imagined what her fingers would feel like, wrapping in her ponytail and ripping it backward until the woman screamed out in pain, but Muriel slung an arm over her shoulder and shook her head like she could read her savage thoughts.

It didn’t sit right, following Rieland after she’d been such an annoying little piss ant, but Muriel seemed to have no problem with it and stepped in line behind her. Stomping out of her way to splash through a mud puddle, Reese smiled at the tiny revenge she was about to exact.

Her muddy hiking boots echoed off of the wooden porch in front, and she hopped over the welcome mat so she wouldn’t waste any of the soggy filth on it. With a triumphant puff to her chest, she pressed two perfect boot prints into the entryway of the office and dragged her feet to leave a slimy trail in her wake.

Rieland growled and Reese flipped her off before she stepped through a door behind Muriel.

The room was open with a desk near one wall. Brown wallpaper, brown rug, brown lamps, and dark brown wood floors and it looked like Mother Nature had upchucked in here. This was a man cave if she’d ever seen one.

A man sat with his back to her and Muriel as they took a pair of seats in front of the mahogany desk. He spoke low into the phone, but hung up before she could make out what he said.

When he turned his attention on her, she gasped.

The tostled honey streaked hair wasn’t right, but she’d recognize eyes like his anywhere. Dark and smoldering, almost black with their intensity.

He looked like Trent.

The man lowered his chin and frowned, openly staring at her like she was doing to him. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t sound like Trent, and the difference dragged her heart from her throat back into her chest cavity. His voice was deeper, and richer, but much more serious than Trent’s. His face was shaven clean, and though the angles were similar, enough differences were there to allow her to relax into her seat. His mouth was stern in shape and lacked the laugh lines that Trent had nurtured.

And the more she studied him, the more she could see it wasn’t him. It was just his eyes that had shocked her.

“Reese?” Muriel asked, rubbing her arm.

She dragged her gaze from the stranger and nodded slightly. “I just thought…he looked like Trent is all.”

Muriel frowned and narrowed her eyes at the man. “He does a little.” Her tone was careful, like not-so-deep-down she thought Reese had lost her marbles.

“I’m Ethan Brenner, alpha of the Seven Devils shifters.” He waited. For what, Reese couldn’t fathom, but finally he asked, “And you are?”

“Oh.” Right. “I’m Reese Evans, friends with the lion whore.” She shot a hate-filled look to Rieland, who stood against the frame of the door.

The skank smiled, and Ethan said, “Rieland, find something else to do. I’d like to talk to Muriel and Ms. Evans alone.”

“But Ethan—”

“Now,” he gritted out.

Hmph. He might be clan leader of the mountain weirdos, but Reese liked him more already.

With an unattractive little screech, Rieland turned and stomped from the office, slamming the door behind her.

Ethan threw a look of complete distain at the door as it rattled on its hinges, then turned his gaze back to Muriel. “First, you divorce Bron and destroy our alliance with the Hells Canyon shifters. Then, you turn a human, using your family’s magic, breaking every rule of the books that passed down to you. Then, you decide to take a lion shifter as a mate, and to top it off, you’re now pregnant with his cub. Is that about the gist of it?”

Muriel nodded and looked down at her hands. “You look a lot different from when we were kids. I remember you used to be so lanky, our old alpha would make you eat red meat and protein shakes so you would grow.”

He rubbed his hands through his wavy hair and linked his hands behind his head. “Dammit, Muriel. What are you doing?”

“Reminding you that I’m a person, with feelings. I know you think I’m in the wrong, but I’ve found peace. For the first time since I was forced into that awful marriage with Bron, I’m happy.”

Ethan’s nostrils flared slightly, like he was keeping his anger in check. The angles of his jaw were so sharp, Reese couldn’t help but be drawn to the swell of muscle in his cheeks when he clenched his teeth. His nose was straight and those eyes…Reese focused on the crease of muscle at the base of his throat. She’d imagined forest rangers as portly and bald, but her judgments didn’t do this man justice. The thick green material of his shirt contrasted with the black T-shirt that stretched across his tight chest underneath. His outer work shirt was unbuttoned so that she could ogle one perfectly puckered nipple that had drawn up against the thinner material of his T.

She was staring. When she dragged her eyes upward, it was clear he’d been staring too.

“You like what you see, Mrs. Evans?” he asked.

Dropping her gaze to the corner of his polished desk, she clenched her hands in her lap. Heat flared up her neck and landed in her cheeks, and still the man watched her.

“Ethan, stop being a dick,” Muriel growled out. “She just lost someone, and you remind her of him.”

When she dared to look at him again, his eyes, so like Trent’s in shape and color, had softened. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said gruffly.

She was going to cry like a little cub if he didn’t release her gaze. Already, moisture burned her eyes, and she wanted to run from this room. Memories of Trent battered her—fights they’d had where he looked serious and unhappy like Ethan did now. She couldn’t speak to thank him for his condolences, though that seemed to be what he was waiting for. If she spoke, her voice would crack and give away just how badly she was breaking apart inside.

“Have you brought me here just to lecture me about my life choices and embarrass my friend?” Muriel asked in a cold voice. Bless that woman for drawing his attention away. “Because I’ll tell you, what I do with my life is none of this clan’s damned business. I pledged to Hells Canyon and my alpha has no problem with my decisions. In fact, Bron is one of my mate’s best friends. What happens in Joseph with Bron’s clan is none of your concern.”

“Your father is sick,” Ethan said softly.

“What?” Muriel frowned, her delicate eyebrows drawing down as she shook her head in disbelief.

“He’s been sick for some time. He started showing signs of weakness in his last year as alpha. We thought he would recover when the strain of the rank passed to me, but in the past five months, he’s only become worse. I tried to convince him to make amends with you before he passes. I’ve pushed for you to come up here much sooner to see him, but you know your father. His stubborn streak is much wider than mine. He still doesn’t want to see you, but he’s too weak to stop me from bringing you here and giving you the choice.”

Muriel stared with a horrified expression at a framed picture of her father that hung from the wall behind Ethan’s shoulder. “Where is he?”

“After his alpha term, we moved him from the big house back to the cabin he raised you in. It’s the one he asked for.”

Muriel stood so fast, the chair behind her made an awful screeching sound across the wood planks of the floor.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Reese asked.

“No,” Ethan answered for her. “Marsden is going to be mad enough when he sees Muriel. Best you stay clear of him.”

Why did he care about whether she got fileted by Muriel’s dad? He seemed to be completely fine with embarrassing her a minute ago. Muriel left and Reese stood to follow.

“Would you like a tour of the place?” Ethan said. The words were polite enough, but he sounded like he’d had to force them from his throat out of politeness.

“No thank you,” she said, offering him an out. “I’m sure you’re really busy picking up litter and making sure hikers stay on the trails. I’ll just wait in the jeep for Muriel to be finished.”

She turned to leave, but the squeaking chair stopped her. Ethan stood to his full height. The man had to be six-foot-two at least, and damn could he wear a pair of standard issue green ranger cargo pants. A belt was slung low across his hips with several closed compartments and a walkie-talkie on one side.

“Is that what you think I do? Pick up litter all day?”

She crossed her arms, not about to get into a pissing war about how important his job was.

“What do you really think of this place?” His voice dipped to a low and dangerous sound.

“What does it matter what I think?”

“It matters to me.”

“But why? You don’t know me and you all seem to be doing just fine up here without some townie’s opinion. Care less about what others think, Ethan. It’ll serve you better than caring too much.”

He canted his head and watched her with a predatory gaze. His dark eyes tightened at the corners, and he placed his hands behind his back. His posture was impeccable and it made her stand a little taller so she wouldn’t look like a slouch. “I don’t give a shit what others think. I want to know what
you
think.”

His direct way of talking to her made her uncomfortable—made her want to run from this place and seek shelter in the jeep where she would be safe. He hadn’t made any physical threats to her, but something about this man made it feel like a very bad idea to engage him. Then again, he’d asked for it. “I think you hide away in these mountains to avoid the real world. You encourage your children not to interact with humans so you feel safe. I think you’re scared.”

A vacant smile ghosted his lips and he huffed a small laugh. “I think you’re scared to come with me, because I might prove your judgments wrong.”

She’d watched Samantha go through the horrible change of turning into a bear shifter. She’d watched her old alpha, Dodger, stab Samantha, right in front of her eyes. Reese had fought viciously with black bears of her own clan to keep Sam safe, and on top of everything else, she’d lost Trent. For the past six months, she’d gone straight to hell and back, so no. She wasn’t scared of being wrong. “I’m not scared of anything.”

Ethan lifted his chin. “Good bear. Come with me.”

As he passed, she scented pine and aftershave and animal. She inhaled again quickly so she could put his smell to memory. Wait, what was she doing? She shouldn’t care about his scent or his job or why he didn’t have any damned smile lines. She had enough problems without harboring feelings for an alpha of wilderness recluses. Like finding Trent’s murderer.

She could do this. She could take a little tour from Ethan with his sexy mouth and intoxicating smell and come out unaffected. Why? Because she was Reese Evans, and she was a fighter. Plus, she’d spent years with Trent, who smiled and laughed all the time. She liked that. Ethan probably didn’t smile ever. She couldn’t find a worse match for herself if she tried.

His work boots made giant prints in the dirt, and just out of curiosity, she placed her own hiking boot inside of one of them. She almost laughed at the size difference. His made her feet look shrimpy. He’d made some distance between them while she’d played footsie in the mud, so she jogged to keep up.

A row of SUVs and pickup trucks lined a dirt road at the back of the camp. They were all painted the same shade of forest green, and all boasting the same tan ranger logos as the one she’d seen earlier.

Ethan stopped at a jacked up Ford Bronco with fat off-road tires, and opened the passenger door. With an unreadable expression, he waited for her to get in, then reached across her lap.

“Whoa, what are you doing?”

He looked up at her like he’d just remembered she was even here. Clearing his throat, he said, “The buckle has a trick to it.”

His face was so close, only inches away, and the weight of his torso pressed warmly against her legs. Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. “Okay.”

Ethan jiggled the clasp and forced the buckle closed, then hesitated. Turning his face, he watched her closely as he eased away. Whatever he saw in her eyes, she hadn’t a guess, but his dark eyebrows drew down like he was confused by something.

“You smell like woods and bear and arousal.” He canted his head and frowned. “You don’t smell like a man.”

Shocked at his open way of speaking to her, and the fact that he glossed right over the arousal observation, she pressed her back into the seat and added inches between them. “I haven’t been with one since Trent died.”

“Was he your mate?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he didn’t want to be.”

“But you wanted to be his?”

The damned tears were back, threatening to expose how weak she really was, and she drew a shaky breath to calm the anger that Ethan caused with his painful questions. “Yes.”

“Trent Cress died six months ago.”

She clenched her hands and gritted her teeth. Desperate for a way to unseat his battering of observations, she asked, “Did you kill him?”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Did I kill Trent Cress? Why would I?”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

His gaze dipped to her lips. “I didn’t kill your man. I’ve never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it, and Trent didn’t deserve his end.”

With that, he pulled away and slammed the door beside her. He sauntered around the front of his Bronco with long, graceful strides. Her stomach did uncomfortable flip-flops just watching him.

He might not be Trent’s murderer, but he was still trouble.