Joel (BBW Bear Shifter Wedding Romance) (Grizzly Groomsmen Book 5) (134 page)

That must be Ramsey, she thought.
 
He makes 12.
 

Mikhael Ramsey was one of the largest shifters she'd ever seen.
 
He was ugly, too – though Cheryl couldn't be sure if he was naturally ugly, or if something had happened to him over the course of his violent life.

“Welcome, Derrick!
 
I didn't think you would have the guts to show up!” Ramsey boomed.
 
Even from their distance above him, his words were loud and clear.
 
At the cage, a man was yelling and screaming, banging on the bars and trying to get out.
 
Clive.

“I'm going down to the lower catwalk,” Franklin said.
 
“I'm going to take out the two there.
 
Those two are yours.
 
I'll signal you when I'm ready.
 
We need to time this perfectly.”

He pointed towards two of Derrick's escort, moving back to guard the front door.
 
“I can handle them.”

“Don't hesitate, Cheryl.
 
You can do this.
 
Derrick was right,” Franklin assured her, before climbing down a ladder and moving away through the inky darkness.

Cheryl braced herself.
 
She couldn't remember the last time she'd shot an actual gun.
 
When he'd arrived at her house, Franklin had taught her the basics, even letting her go so far as shooting a few darts in her backyard.
 
The gun was silent, which would definitely help.
 
Derrick, watching from the sidelines, had told her she was a natural.
 
She wasn't sure if she believed him, but the confidence was inspiring, all the same.

She looked over at Franklin.
 
He'd moved slowly along the railing so as not to attract attention.
 
She saw his signal, so she took a deep breath and aimed the tranquilizer gun at the nearest shifter.

He had shifted back into his human form, sitting naked in a chair with a magazine in his hands.
 
The open door illuminated him with weak moonlight just enough for Cheryl to get a good lock on him.
 
She let out a breath, and squeezed the trigger.

Without waiting to see if her shot connected, she was aiming at the other shifter, still in bear form.
 
Right before she pulled the trigger, his head jerked to the side, looking at the man in the chair.
 
His movement wasn't enough for him to escape the dart, however.
 
It buried deep in his neck.
 
The bear collapsed on the ground just as the man coughed and slid out of his chair, falling to the ground hard.
 
None of the other shifters noticed that their two comrades were out.

Cheryl turned to look at Franklin's progress.
 
The first shifter was out, laying on the catwalk, silent.
 
And the second was… Oh, no, she thought.

The second shifter was leaning precariously on the railing.
 
He was out, but he'd fallen forward and threatened to fall off, alerting the remaining shifters to their presence.
 
He swayed backwards, his weight finally falling back, and Cheryl let out a sigh of relief.

And then he shifted forward, tumbling over the railing.

Everyone sprang into motion simultaneously.
 
Ramsey screamed, “There's someone else!”
 
And he was rushing towards Derrick.
 
Derrick's other bodyguard kicked him in the back, dropping him to his knees, and Ramsey swung his fist out, connecting with Derrick's face.
 
He went down, hard.

The four bodyguards at the cage were moving closer to the cage, guns out, trying to keep it safe.
 
The two at the far door were moving quick, shifting and sniffing out Franklin's location.
 
A dart exploded from the darkness, catching one in the side.
 
He went down quick, but the other shifter was on Franklin before Cheryl could blink.

Then Derrick was up on his feet, grabbing his bodyguard and squeezing with a sickening crunch that Cheryl could hear from her location high above.
 
Clive reached through the cage, grabbing one of the men too close to the bars, and he was dead, too.

But the surviving shifters moved away from the cage, hunting Franklin down.
 
And then Ramsey screamed, “Come out now or he's dead!” and Cheryl looked back at Derrick, seeing him on his knees, nose streaming blood, a gun held to his head.

Cheryl watched as Franklin lowered himself to the ground, giving himself up.
 
And Cheryl realized that she was the only one left.

“Brock!” Emma screamed, rushing at the bars.
 
Franklin was tossed inside of the cage roughly.
 
Emma gave him a hug, making sure he was okay.
 
Cheryl watched, trying to figure out her best plan.

“Shift, you damn idiots.
 
Make sure there's no one else.
 
I bet that bitch of his is around here somewhere!” Ramsey commanded, lowering his weapon, but still holding it dangerously close to Derrick's head.
 
The bears lifted their heads, sniffing, following Franklin's scent, trying to find if there was anyone else in the room.
 
Cheryl had only a few seconds before they picked up on her scent.

She lined up the gun again.
 
She was a farther away than before, but aiming the gun, she thought she could shoot at least two of the shifters, if not three.
 
It would be up to Derrick to do the rest.
 
She couldn't get a clear shot on Ramsey with Derrick in the way, so she settled for those closest to her.
 
She took a few deep breaths.
 
This was the time that would prove that they were important.
 
Or it wouldn't, Cheryl thought, and pulled the trigger.

The first bear dropped immediately.
 
Cheryl aimed at the second bear, but he was moving fast and was ready for her shot.
 
She fired and his lumbering form dodged out of the way, faster than she thought would have been possible.
 
She fired again, and missed a second time.
 
And he was shifting back to a human, climbing the ladder to her location, knowing exactly where she was.

She pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.
 
Shit! she thought, realizing she forgot to reload.
 
Behind the man climbing the ladder, she caught a glimpse of Derrick.
 
He had shifted, as had Ramsey, and the two were grappling on the floor.
 
The other two shifters were closing in on them.

The odds aren't in his favor, Cheryl thought, but realized she had to focus on her own problems.
 
Then she would help him.
 
The man was sprinting at her down the catwalk.
 
She took a couple of steps backwards, fumbling with extra darts, trying to reload the rifle.

And he was on her.
 
He lashed out, his hand striking her in the side of the head.
 
She dropped to her knees, ducking under his next swing.
 
There was no time for her to reload the rifle.
 
He came at her again, and she swung the rifle like a bat.
 
Unprepared, the shifter only had enough time for a look of surprise to cross his face before the stock crashed into his temple.
 
He tumbled over the railing, dazed.

Cheryl turned to look at Derrick, and was pulled from her feet as the man latched onto her ankle.
 
She lost her balance, sliding between the catwalk flooring and the railing, striking her chin on the catwalk as she fell.
 
She reached a hand out, blind with pain, her fingers managing to catch the edge of the metal as she screamed.

She felt her fingers slipping, so she kicked out, her foot colliding with the shifter's face.
 
With a scream of pain, he fell, screeching as he fell onto the hard concrete floor.
 
Cheryl looked away right before he hit the ground with a sickening noise.
 
She reached up, trying to get a grip, but it was pointless.
 
She was too weak, too tired, and too far down to pull herself back up.

She looked over at where Derrick had been fighting the other shifters.
 
She hoped to catch one last glance at him before she died.
 
Bodies were strewn across the ground, but she couldn't make it out what had happened.
 
At least we gave it a good shot, she thought, and slipped.

She didn't scream as she fell.
 
She didn't have time to.
 
She fell for a split second before a hand reached over the edge of the catwalk, gripping her wrist with surprising strength.
 
A face peered over the edge, bloody, yet smiling.

Derrick.

He pulled her up onto the catwalk, holding her close.
 
She kissed him, hugged him.

“I was sure I was going to die,” she said.

“You still are,” a voice growled from their side.
 
Ramsey stood next to them, striding forward.
 
He looked even worse than he had before.
 
“You should have finished me off when you had the chance.”

He grabbed Derrick by the throat, lifting him up over the railing.
 
Derrick reached out, grabbing Ramsey's arms, flailing and coughing.
 
And Cheryl reached into her pocket, grabbing the only dart that hadn't fallen out and picking up the rifle.
 
She reloaded and pulled the trigger.

The dart caught Ramsey in the chest.
 
He looked down, surprise in his face.
 
His grip weakened.
 
Derrick grabbed the railing, holding himself unsteadily, trying to catch his breath.
 
Cheryl had expected Ramsey to drop immediately, but for whatever reason, he didn't.

He stumbled forward, moving back towards Derrick, ready to push him off the ledge.
 
Cheryl took two steps forward, pushing his large form from behind, and watched as he tried to catch his balance.
 
In his severely sedated form, however, it wasn't enough.
 
His hand gripped her arm but slipped.
 
He let out an ear shattering roar, tumbling over the railing.
 
He made a weak attempt to grab Derrick next, who simply shrugged him off, and he was gone.

Cheryl pulled Derrick over the railing, dropping to the catwalk.
 
Tears were rolling down her face.
 
She ran her hands through Derrick's hair.

“Don't cry,” he whispered.
 
“We did great.”

“I know,” she whispered back.
 
“I'm just so happy.”

The next day, Cheryl found herself a different woman.
 
She couldn't quite pin what it was that made her feel different, but she was certain she was.
 
Was it that she'd been forced into a life or death situation, and had proved herself, saving everyone else?
 
Or was it finally that things were finally going her way?
 
Was it Derrick himself?

After the ordeal late last night, everyone in attendance had agreed that the wedding should not be postponed.
 
Sergeant Franklin had called in backup immediately after Derrick had undone the cage.
 
The few surviving members of Ramsey's Clan had swiftly been taken into custody.
 
Cheryl didn't think they would be causing any problems anytime soon.

Marcus had run off after he made sure her and Derrick were okay.
 
As the Clan Leader, he'd had to assess the damage to the Clan and handle the burnt down headquarters.
 
Emma helped her fellow officers with the arrests and paperwork.
 
Most of the others had moved off to get a few hours of much needed sleep, with the exception of Russ and Zoe, who fussed over Derrick.

Once they had agreed he was fine, Derrick lead Cheryl out to his truck.
 
They climbed inside, driving to Derrick's house, the closest place they could crash for a few hours.
 
Neither had bothered to change out of their dirty clothes before collapsing on his bed.
 
Cheryl had managed to wrap her fingers through Derrick's, but then exhaustion took over, and she was out.

She found herself standing in Derrick's bathroom, steam fogging the mirror after a much needed shower.
 
She felt a little guilty: she had a bad feeling she'd used up all of the hot water and she felt bad for Derrick, who was downstairs in his basement bathroom.

Cheryl wiped the mirror, getting a good look at herself.
 
She had a few bruises on an arm from where she'd been grabbed by Ramsey, and her ankle was sore, but other than that, she looked and felt fine.
 
She was surprised to find that despite being exhausted, she didn't look it.
 
Today is going to be a good day, after all, she thought.

The door to the bathroom opened and Derrick stepped in.
 
He had a towel wrapped around his waist, his toned body still wet.
 
Cheryl took a few seconds to admire his form, watching as his muscles rippled across his body.