Grayden made it as far as the vestibule before his path was blocked. A dozen men, all faces he’d seen on the fight circuit, crowded around him, Warner, and Ryker. When Hunt and Patrice appeared from the stairwell, the men pushed in, surrounding them all.

  Grayden’s gaze swept the room and the men surrounding him and his crew. His bear strained against his skin, wanting release, but Grayden shoved it back. They couldn’t shift here. There wasn’t room for all of them. Especially if any of these assholes tried to shift too.

  Grayden sniffed the air to identify the animals inside the men closing in on them. Hyenas, wolves, and a few others he couldn’t name. Fine. He didn’t want to know whose blood would be on his hands. He stepped up to the first one, fists ready. Because before it was over, they would all bleed.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  RACHEL

  Rachel swiped the back of her hand over her brow and exhaled heavily. The air in the truck was stifling. Grayden had made her promise to leave the doors locked and windows shut but without fresh air, she was melting in here. They’d already humidified the damn thing with that quickie before he’d left her and now, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go before she suffocated or passed out.

  She checked her phone, the pit of dread in her stomach growing into a golf ball. Grayden had been gone too long. Something wasn’t right. She just didn’t know what. She shifted against the leather seat, the back of her legs damp with sweat.

  Outside, the darkness was inky and thick. She couldn’t see anything past the first few feet of the truck. But then, that meant nothing could see her. She made a decision as another hot flash washed over her. Grabbing the manual handle, she rolled the window down and inhaled gulps of cool night air as it spilled into the cab.

  She leaned her head back against the seat, relishing the cool breeze on her face. For a moment, she sat there, just breathing softly. She tried hard not to think about what Grayden might be going through, but her thoughts kept drifting back.

  Outside the window, something crackled. Like gravel underfoot.

  Rachel sat up, alarm and adrenaline closing her throat and freezing her in place as she listened. Her hand hovered on the window handle, ready to roll it back up, but she wanted to identify the sound first. Where it was coming from. It could be Grayden. Or Beck. She knew he’d been ordered to alert her if something went wrong. Footsteps emerged and still, she held the handle, not ready to give in to the panic. It had to be Grayden, she told herself, anticipation and relief rising as a body took shape.

  It strode purposefully closer and Rachel opened her mouth, ready to call out to her mate. But then the face coalesced into someone recognizable. Her relief fell away, replaced by confusion.

  “Clements?” she asked, startled by the loudness of her own voice against the silence. “What are you doing here?”

  Officer Clements reached her open window and leaned down, his arms folded over the opening. His dark eyes and cropped hair had always reminded her of a marine rather than a police officer. He’d supposedly served in some Iraq mission before joining the force and joked to the men that he’d kept the haircut. That the ladies liked it. But Rachel had never been able to get past the cold eyes. The emptiness behind his direct gaze that could pin you and leave you cold on the hottest day. His gaze was like that now as he studied her. Only the whites of his eyes were visible in the darkness but even so, she sensed the coldness there.

  “Backup,” he said shortly as if that answered all her questions.

  “But how did you know?” she asked, shaking her head as she tried to make sense of it all. “Did you see Beck?”

  Clements stared at her, quiet for a beat before nodding. “Yeah. He said we gotta get you out of here. Scoot over, I’ll drive.”

  He reached in and unlocked the door with his finger, opening it and ushering her over. She slid across the leather seat, gripping her gun. Clements honed in on it and frowned. “You don’t need that, Rach. Here, give it to me.”

  He held out his hand for her weapon and alarm bells went off in her head. No officer surrendered her weapon. Ever. And since when did he call her Rach?

  She scooted across the seat as far as she could get and raised her gun, pointing it at him. “Get the hell out of the truck,” she said.

  Clements blinked at her but he didn’t look nervous. Or surprised. Only mildly disappointed. “I told you, you don’t need that. Put it away,” he said.

  She hoped he couldn’t see her shaking as she pointed it at him. Even now, faced with danger, she still hated the idea of killing something.

  Clements’ eyes gleamed like he already knew it. He clucked his tongue at her. “You made a real mess of things, didn’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  He opened his mouth like he was going to answer and instead, his arm shot out, knocking the gun from her hand. It went off, echoing into the night before it clattered to the floorboard, the shot blowing a hole in the roof of Grayden’s truck. Rachel lost sight of the gun as Clements loomed over her. She shoved at him, fumbling for the door handle behind her but he was stronger. Quicker.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped, grabbing her wrist and squeezing painfully. He was on top of her now, pinning her with his weight, and she squirmed to get free but he only scowled. The coldness in his eyes turned to hate. “You think you’re so much smarter than me, don’t you? So much better.”

  “I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” she said, panting with the effort of trying to wriggle away from him. She’d made zero progress but she kept trying.

  “Busting up that fight ring while I was gone. Did you think you could pull one over on me? I know everything there is to know about that damn fight ring. You can’t stop it. You can’t do shit about it unless I say.”

  “This again?” she huffed. “I told you, take it up with Chief⁠—”

  “Fuck that. I’m taking it up with you.” He leaned down until they were eye to eye and his breath hit her as he spoke through clenched teeth. “You want a name? I’ll give you a name. Clements. That fight ring is mine and it’s not getting busted. Not by you or anyone else.”

  “Oh my God! You’re the one running the fights?” She stopped struggling, momentarily too stunned to do anything but try and put it all together.

  Clements looked pleased as punch with himself. “Fucking right I am.” He studied her, eyes narrowed. “Oh you thought it was Deacon?” He laughed, a humorless, harsh sound. “Please. What an idiot. That guy couldn’t run an errand much less a six-figure fight club.”

  “You were behind the threats,” she said, back to struggling again. “But Grayden. Deacon’s challenge. How did you know he’d come? Or me?”

  “Please.” Clements snorted. “It wasn’t hard to put it together once I watched the footage from your interrogation that night. God, do you let all your collars talk to you like that? Such a slut.”

  Furious, she yanked hard against his hold which had gone slack when she’d stopped fighting before. Her wrist jerked free and she reared back and smashed her fist into his nose and mouth.

  She felt the skin around her knuckles break open and then Clements was sitting up a little, cupping his face with his hand. Rachel twisted sideways, sliding free of his weight, and landing on the floorboard. She tried climbing free, fumbling again for the door handle, and wanted to shout for joy when she found it and engaged, flinging the door wide.

  She dove for the pavement, landing hard on her injured wrist. She yelled as sharp pain shot from her wrist straight up her arm. Her elbow gave out and she landed with a thud on the asphalt, her cheek scraping against it, leaving behind a burn.

  A hand tangled in her hair, yanking hard. She cried out again and scrambled to her feet, Clements dragging her around to face him. “You little bitch,” he said, blood streaming from his nose. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  She twisted, squinting into the distance as she searched for Grayden or Beck or anyone. They had to have heard that gunshot. Where were they?

  With no weapon and no help in sight, fear set in. Cold, heavy, paralyzing fear. Not for her but for Grayden and the others. If they weren’t coming, it could only mean the worst had happened.

  Clements yanked her hard by the fistful of hair, lifting her almost clear off her feet. “Don’t bother looking for your grizzly boyfriend. He’s indisposed. Permanently.”

  Rachel bit back a whimper as the last dregs of hope drained away.

  She shut her eyes, hoping it would all be over quickly. When she opened them again, movement over Clements’ shoulder caught her eye. A bulky shadow lumbered fast toward where she stood beside the truck with Clements.

  It grew closer and Rachel’s heart lifted and soared in relief at the sight of the giant gray grizzly. She stared at it in awe, love so huge and a sense of security like she’d never experienced, eclipsing the fear and uncertainty of anything Clements could threaten her with.

  Rachel moved to the side as far as she could as Grayden finally reached them. Clements turned just as the gray grizzly bear lifted its paw and swiped at him with razor-sharp claws. The cop’s shirt tore open and angry, red slashes appeared across his chest, blood pooling and then pouring from the wounds.

  Clements grunted and the sharp pain of his grip on her hair disappeared as he let her go and stumbled against the truck tire. Grayden didn’t let up. Rachel turned away as Clements screamed and then finally fell silent. Arms came around her, soft and slender, and she looked up at her fiend, Patrice.

  “Don’t turn around,” Patrice said, hugging Rachel close. Rachel obeyed. Grayden was okay. Patrice was okay. Over her friend’s shoulder, she saw Beck and Ryker and Hunt arrive and knew they were all okay. She hadn’t lost anyone. She had no desire to turn around and watch Clements meet his end but she wasn’t sorry for it either.

  She squeezed Patrice tight, inhaling deeply the sweet taste of relief and comfort. It took her a moment to realize her best friend was completely naked as she hugged her. For some reason, that was what broke the dam of tears she’d been holding back.

  Tears streamed down her face and she sobbed quietly against Patrice’s shoulder.

  “Rach, it’s okay. We’re all okay,” Patrice soothed.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes as trying to stem the flow of tears.

  “What is it?” Patrice asked.

  “Nothing. I always knew you had great boobs. Nice to see I was right.”

  Patrice laughed and looked up at the guys crowding around them, blocking her view of Clements.

  “She’s going to be okay,” Patrice announced and they all grinned at her.

  Though covered in blood, they were all clothed, thankfully. Rachel didn’t think she could handle all of them naked and standing so close to the dead body of her former co-worker.

  From the back of the group, she watched as Grayden pushed his way through the others. He grabbed her arms and hauled her up against him in a bear hug that squeezed until she couldn’t breathe.

  She clung to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder.

  “I was so worried,” he said, his voice muffled and gravelly. “I heard that gunshot and I thought…”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him, understanding his worries. “He didn’t touch me.”

  She felt him exhale and relax against her.

  “Where’s Deacon?” she asked when he finally let go enough to look at her.

  “Gone,” Grayden said simply.

  Beside him, Beck high fived Ryker and said, “He’s with Jesus now.” Everyone laughed.

  Grayden stared down at her and all Rachel could think was, this was going to be so complicated. Calling her boss, explaining what had happened here tonight, not to mention her relationship with Grayden. But all of that could wait. Right now, she just needed to simply be held. To hold him.

  As if reading her mind, Grayden hugged her again, this time lifting her off her feet. Rachel laughed, the relief and love she felt for her mate overshadowing all the fear and worry of the night. This gray grizzly brawler was hers. And she was his. It was as simple and complicated as that.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  GRAYDEN

  Friday night, Grayden tapped his scabbed knuckles against the bar at the The Shifty Cat, signaling the new bartender to pour him another. He barely looked up at her as she set a full beer in front of him and took his empty glass. Patrice had mentioned her name but he’d already forgotten it. A freelance writer or some shit. He couldn’t focus on that. Not when Rachel was late.

  “Dude, she’ll be here,” Ryker said against his ear.

  Grayden shrugged him off, scowling. The rest of the guys were seated at what had become their usual table in the back, but not him. He wanted to be close to the door so he would see her the moment she arrived.

  She’d had a meeting with her boss today about everything that had happened. She was requesting a transfer, she’d said. A desk job. Or training. Something that didn’t require her to point guns at people. Not because she’d been damaged by what had happened last weekend, she’d insisted. Grayden still worried, though. And he ached when she wasn’t with him. He’d feel better when she got here.

  But he hadn’t had the urge to brawl since that night with Deacon. Then again, taking out that many shifters probably had satisfied his brawling side for a while.

  Hunt had been terrified the town was going to turn on them for it but they’d actually been recognized as heroes. Deacon and his men were being labeled as a gang. Hunt and the rest of the bears had saved the town. “God’s Angels,” one of the blog articles had called them. That one had been a little much but the town was grateful instead of pissed, and that’s all that mattered. He still had community service to do but he looked forward to that. Not just because it meant more time with Rachel, but Starla and the other women there were showing him that he had more to offer than just fighting when it came to defeating the demons of his childhood.

  The door opened and Rachel walked in.

  Grayden kicked off his stool and strode over to her, taking her in his arms and planting a smacking kiss on her full mouth.

  Rachel blinked up at him, dazed by the time he let her go. She swayed and he steadied her, his lips curving into a smirk. “You all right, Officer?” he asked.

  “Fine.” She shook her head and offered a small smile. “Better than fine,” she said, relief shining in her eyes. And lust. But he’d get to that part later.

  “Meeting went okay then?” he asked, leading her back to the bar and signaling Nina to pour a drink for Rachel.

  “It went great,” she assured him. “Better than expected. I told Chief everything and he understood. In fact, he had an opening for a position that sounds like a perfect fit. I’m going to be teaching seminars for the new hires about assault and abuse and how to handle both.”

  “You up for that?” he asked, brows wrinkling as he smoothed her hair back. He just needed to touch her. All the time. It was the damndest thing.

  “Yes,” she told him, taking his hand and squeezing it in hers. She smiled up at him. “I really am. And with what he’s offered to pay, I can bring a couple of the girls with me to assist and let them earn a paycheck as well. So I have more time at the shelter and a new job opportunity for the women there. It means I get off the night shift too.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” he said.

  He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose, aware of the curious stares they were getting from the other customers. He didn’t care. His bear wanted to shower his mate with affection. It didn’t give a shit who was watching. But he suspected Rachel cared. Their being a couple in public was still fairly new and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Or bring up questions she might not be ready to answer. So he contented himself with a small kiss, resolved to be on his best behavior for the rest of the night.

  “There is one major change,” she said and her expression changed into a sly sort of smile. “When you’re a police officer, you’re taught to never surrender your weapon. That it’s an extension of your body. But since I’m not working a beat anymore, I don’t have a weapon.” She stood up and wound her arms around his neck, leaning in seductively.

  “Oh,” he said, his mouth going dry at the way she was pressing against his crotch where she stood behind his legs. He tried to focus on her words rather than his body’s reaction at her closeness.

  “Which means I’m going to need something else to be a sort of extension,” she whispered. “Of my body. Or maybe just inside it.” She nipped at his ear and he groaned, his control wobbling.

  “I’m not opposed to extending myself inside your body,” he said, not really sure if that had made any sense out loud, “But I was hoping to spare you the nosy audience and all the questions that are sure to follow after a stunt like this one.”

  She laughed and planted a quick kiss beside his ear before drawing back just far enough to smile down at him. She raised a brow. “Guess you better take me home then. At least for tonight, I’m not in the mood for interrogation.”

  Grayden didn’t waste any time. He dropped a bill onto the table and practically carried Rachel outside, mumbling a goodbye to Ryker before they walked out. He vaguely remembered the cake Patrice had made and the vote Hunt wanted to take with the others in order to welcome Rachel into the crew but he couldn’t think beyond Rachel’s invitation. There would be time for all that later. Plenty of time. Beside, when his mate demanded something, who was he to deny her?

  EPILOGUE

  RACHEL

  Rachel hugged the slender woman in front of her, the newest addition to Timber Falls Women’s Shelter, and then left her with Starla to get settled in. Two weeks into her full-time position here and already the shelter was flourishing. Grayden had spent his community service hours doing repairs and his presence alone was doing wonders for the women here. Who knew having a safe, positive male influence among a home full of battered and broken women was exactly what they needed?