Her Protector Read online

  I’m so hopeful, I’ve even got my Grandmother’s emerald ring in my pocket to present to the right woman. It’s probably foolish to be so presumptuous about finding a mate in Canada. I’m blaming it on the holiday season, or maybe it’s the fact I’m going to be a Santa in a red truck decorated like a sleigh, but I have a good feeling about my trip and finding a true mate. Werebear believe in destiny, and I think I’m on this mission because it’s time for me to find love.

  Chapter 3

  Chrissy

  * * *

  When Fred said he’d get me a vehicle, I imagined a rental van. I didn’t expect it to be a Mom-van complete with the kinds of bumper stickers a mother of multiple children might have on the back windshield. He must have borrowed it from one of his employees, and I bet he’s paying them for the use of it.

  There are even two car seats in the back, which seems odd to me since the boxes in the back are stacked so high I can’t see out of the rearview mirror. So when I get home from work to get changed and do my hair and makeup for the show, I take the time to remove the car seats and rearrange the boxes to improve my visibility.

  My drive is about three hours when the roads are clear, but tonight’s snow means I’ll drive at a slower speed, making it take longer. The trip is uneventful until the last half hour when my anxiety kicks in. Usually I’m with the rest of the band and the chatter keeps me distracted. Tonight, though, it’s just me and my thoughts, and instead of worrying about being on stage, I fantasize about a future Christmas with Fred. Once my career takes off and we’re finally together, I imagine we’ll have a big house in California where I’ll go to the recording studio each day and he can be my manager, like he’s told me he dreams of doing. Eventually, we’ll have kids, too. And Christmas will be magical with delicious food, festive decorations, and tons of presents. My children will have the holiday I’ve always wanted.

  I pull into the Landmark parking lot and see the rest of my band has already arrived, and when I get out of the van, I make sure to lock it. Typically Brad shows up while I’m performing, and on my break, I give him the van keys to retrieve the box I brought. The side door to the Landmark, near where our band plays, creaks open when I tug on it, and Jace, the lead guitar player, smiles at me. “There you are. Got over the border okay?”

  I chuckle. “I’m in a mom-van. I’m pretty sure the patrol didn’t even look at my passport.” The border patrol agents have gotten used to our band over the past two years, but the first time we went through we were searched, and we often joke about hiding the contraband none of us have, before we cross.

  “Hey, girl,” Rick, the drummer, says when he sees me. “Looking like a good crowd tonight.”

  “All the better for breaking hearts,” I tease. Rick has the sexy smirk and buff body that makes him the kind of drummer girls drool over.

  He winks at me before I walk over to check the sound system. When I’m done, Todd, the bass player brings me a song list. “You good?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I managed to distract myself on the way.” I don’t tell him I fantasized about my perfect life instead of performing in front of an audience.

  “Okay. We’ve got Logan singing a couple first to give you time to chill, and then you’re up.”

  “Cool. Thanks.”

  “You’ve got it. Go get your tea.”

  I smile at him before going to the bar to get the cup of tea with honey I like to have to help calm me before singing. The band starts before I get my drink, and I slide onto a stool at the bar to watch them while I wait for my beverage. I’m envious of the way Logan catches the eye of audience members and sings to each of them for a few moments. It’s a great way to engage people and something I need to try to do. When I perform, I find I’m less nervous if I focus on doing one thing to improve. I determine that tonight I’m going to try to look at individual members of the audience.

  The bartender hands me my tea, and I walk over to sit with Erin and Jake. Erin squeezes my hand. “Did you get here safely in the mom-van?”

  “I did.”

  She frowns. “I don’t suppose Fred’s coming tonight.”

  “No. He’s working.”

  “Right.”

  “Erin.” I sigh.

  She holds up her hands. “You never see the guy who claims he’s grooming you for greatness, but he has no trouble using you as his pack horse.”

  “For charity. And it’s not a huge inconvenience for me to do it.”

  Jake takes Erin’s hand and looks at me. “Good crowd tonight. They must be coming to hear you sing.”

  I nod toward the stage, grateful he cut Erin off before she went on a rant. “Or it’s Rick’s fan club.” I sigh. “I should go.”

  Erin touches my arm. “Break a leg.”

  “Thanks.” I get up to leave them and go sit on the sidelines while Logan finishes his last song. But my stomach is upset now because of what Erin said. It does seem strange that Fred never wants to hear me sing or watch me perform.

  Logan finishes his set, and I take a deep breath to clear my mind. I’m going to start with Erin’s favorite song tonight. I’ve been practicing riffs I can’t wait for her to hear. I smile when I listen to Logan introduce me, and then I step forward to take the mic. Familiar panic tries to take over, but I close my eyes to escape by envisioning I’m in my room as a kid, singing my heart out to an imaginary audience instead of a real one. The moment the first word comes out of my mouth, I’m sucked into my private world where all the notes I hit are perfect and everyone loves my voice. So much hope fills me, and I imagine myself on a much bigger stage singing to thousands of adoring fans.

  With each song we play my confidence grows, and I’m feeling so good that I decide I’m ready to work on something to improve my performance. I start small by looking at Erin and Jake, and then I expand my gaze to the left. There’s a very large man sitting at a table by himself, and I make eye contact with him as if he’s Erin. He looks a bit surprised by the warmth of my gaze, and I wonder if I’ve overdone it before I move on to a woman sitting at a high-top near him. I tone down my gaze a little and find people smile back at me singing to them. The expressions seem so genuine that it makes me believe the audience is enjoying the show.

  I notice Brad and give him a smile when I break for instrumentals. He doesn’t smile back, though. Instead he lifts his wrist and taps on it like he’s wearing a watch, and I wonder what the rush is. He’s usually content to wait until my set is over, or at least until I’m done with a song, but because of his obvious impatience, I pull the car keys out of my pocket as I sing. He comes to the stage to take them from me without a word.

  His gruffness is upsetting, but I try not to let it get to me. I look at Erin instead. She grins and lifts up her hand like a shield so that she can point with the other one toward the big guy sitting next to them. I look at him to see he’s got a huge grin on his face as he sways to the music. He likes my voice.

  I’m singing a song I could sing in my sleep, so I take a moment to check the guy out. His mass appears to be all muscle, and he’s got a beard along with hair to his shoulders. He’s not my usual type at all—I like a clean-cut businessman—but something about the guy oozes sexuality to me anyway. It’s like I want— I give myself a mental forehead slap and try to revisit the fantasy of a magical Christmas in my future with Fred.

  Chapter 4

  Ryan

  * * *

  Around nine o’clock I decide I need to take a break from driving and get a bite to eat. I choose a place called the Landmark, which is a pub just off the highway. The place appears busy, and it makes me think the food will be decent. As I make my way inside, I hear the band playing, and I walk over to the bar while some guy sings a Bruce Springsteen hit from years ago.

  After ordering a coffee, a burger, and fries, I turn to watch the band. The guy finishes his song and makes introductions for Chrissy, the girl he hands the microphone to. She gets so many cheers that I think she’s going to be good. When she te
lls us what she’s going to sing, a girl near the front calls out, “Go, Chrissy!”

  She smiles shyly before closing her eyes while the band plays the intro, and when she opens her eyes again, it’s as if she’s transformed. Her smile is nearly ethereal, even if her gaze isn’t focused on anyone. It makes me think she’s taken herself far away. But it’s her voice that takes me away. My skin tingles with the first word, and goosebumps form on my arms as the sound winds its way through me as if she’s trying to find my heart. I want to follow her to wherever it is she went. “Whoa,” I say, and the guy next to me chuckles.

  “Got the voice of an angel, doesn’t she?” he asks.

  I nod as I remain captivated by Chrissy. She doesn’t look at anyone while she sings, but I have a strong urge to make her look at me. I want to know more about the woman. I ask the guy, “She from around here?”

  “Nah,” the guy’s female companion says. “The band comes from just over the border in Maine, but they play here a lot.”

  I realize I shouldn’t ask strangers personal questions about the girl, and I’m not even sure why I want to. “She belongs in better paying places than this bar.” I force myself to turn forward and dig into my meal. But I don’t taste the burger, and I can’t resist turning with it in my hand to keep watching Chrissy.

  “You’re awfully taken with her,” the man next to me says. “You should tell her. She doesn’t think she’s that good.”

  “Really?”

  The woman says, “She suffers stage fright something fierce. At least tonight she doesn’t look like she’s going to throw up.” The woman and her companion chuckle.

  He says, “I think because we all keep coming back, she might be getting used to us.”

  Once I finish my food, I ask for my check, even though I don’t want to leave. But I’ve got a few more hours of driving in me, and I know I have to go. Not before I let Chrissy know how much I enjoyed her singing, though.

  After I pay my bill, I tug a twenty out of my wallet with the intention of setting it on the stage in front of Chrissy at the end of her next song so I can tell her how wonderful I think she is. But when I get toward the front and notice an empty table, I decide to stay for another song or two, and I sit to watch her.

  Now that I’m closer and I can see Chrissy more clearly, I realize she’s younger than I thought and looks to be in her early twenties. She’s also more beautiful. I notice her delicate fingers as she holds the mic and the way her waist dips in before swelling with her full hips. She catches my eye, and I nearly gasp from the shock of it. But it’s not embarrassment from being caught checking her out. It’s more like a light jolt of electricity just zapped me.

  She offers me a smile as if she’s glad to see me, too. But then she moves her gaze and carries on as if what just happened was nothing. I suppose it was to her. She’s not the one searching everywhere for a true mate, ready to jump on the first woman who sparks physical attraction.

  I see Chrissy frown. She’s in the middle of a song, and before she even finishes, I notice her reaching in her pocket to pull out a set of keys. A man approaches her, and she hands them to him. My bear takes notice, and I have to contain his urge to growl as we track the guy’s movements. To the human eye, the event probably seemed trivial, but warriors have hyper-aware senses that pick up on danger. I’ve been trained since I was a teenager to spot trouble before it happens, and my instincts have never let me down.

  Something about the guy who just took Chrissy’s keys is making me worry about her. I take note of his flannel jacket, black ball cap and grungy jeans as he walks out a side door near where the band is set up. My guess, based on his thin build and smooth gait, is that he’d be a scrappy fighter. But no human is a match for me. I’m tempted to go see where he went, but my gut makes me believe staying with Chrissy is more important.

  I’m aware I have no business messing around in the human world where the rules are different, so I tell myself I’ll stay until she takes a break and make sure she’s safe. I glance over at the couple sitting next to me. I think they’re friends of the band, and I decide to eavesdrop on them to get more information. I sit up a little taller and make a show of being into the music as I listen.

  “I’m telling you,” the blonde says, “he’s using her, and she’s too blind in love to see it.”

  “I’m not doubting you,” the guy says. “But how would you react if Chrissy told you I was using you?”

  “I get it. She doesn’t want to hear it. But Jake, that Brad dude she meets here gives me the creeps. You’d think he’d be a little nicer to the person who just brought him a van full of donations.”

  Donations? I make the smile on my face a little bigger to hide my true thoughts. If the guy who just took Chrissy’s keys is a philanthropist, then I’m Mick Jagger.

  “He looks down on his luck,” the guy says. “Not all of us care about our wardrobe.”

  The blonde huffs. “I’m not talking about his clothes, it’s his druggie vibe.”

  “Erin.”

  “Don’t Erin me. It’s not really Brad I’m upset about anyway. It’s Fred. He treats her like crap, showing up at work and making her drop everything for his donation run, and what does she get for it? He hasn’t heard her sing in weeks. He relies on the fact that she has such a big crush on him she’ll do anything he asks.” She lets out a sigh.

  “Babe, I know it’s frustrating to watch someone you love make mistakes, but he does pay for her music lessons.”

  “I know. I just wish she would set her sights on someone better. Like you.” Erin leans in and kisses her boyfriend, and because she’s now facing me, I make sure I look like I’m enjoying the music.

  “Oh, my god!” Erin whispers to Jake. “That guy next to us is practically drooling over Chrissy right now.”

  I chuckle to myself, because she can’t know that I’m a werebear with super-sensitive hearing.

  Jake warns, “Erin, don’t even think it.”

  “What? Anyone has got to be better for her than Fred.”

  I notice Chrissy is looking at Erin, but when she suddenly looks at me, I downplay my smile and move a little to the beat to make it appear I’m into the music and not so much into her. I’m not enjoying Chrissy singing the way I was, though, because my warrior senses tell me I have a job to do. It’s a little crazy, but I’m going to delay my trip for a human woman I haven’t even met. Warriors listen to their instincts. And mine are telling me that tonight I need to be Chrissy’s protector.

  Chapter 5

  Chrissy

  * * *

  I’m beyond flattered that the big guy who was sitting next to Erin and Jake before they left is into my singing and maybe even me. Although, the way Erin kept looking at him while she was saying goodbye to me during the break might have made him self-conscious. But it doesn’t stop him from coming up to talk to me once I’ve gotten another cup of tea.

  He holds out a folded-up bill. “You have an amazing voice.”

  My cheeks heat up and I fight the urge to be disparaging toward myself. “Thanks. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  His smile is kind, and I think that even though he’s big enough to be intimidating, he’s probably a really nice guy. He asks, “Is it okay if I tip you?”

  “The band always appreciates tips.”

  I reach to take the tip from him, but then I jump when Brad calls out my name. I turn to see he has come in through the side door, and he looks pissed. “We’ve got a problem.”

  “Excuse me,” I say to the guy, and I walk over to Brad, concerned about what has upset him. “What is it?”

  He nods toward the door, and I follow him outside. I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the winter air as snow falls around us. He brings me to the mom-van, and his jaw is clenched when he looks at me. Brad’s mouth opens and closes before he shakes his head and takes a deep breath.

  My stomach clenches as I wonder what the heck I did wrong. Random thoughts like driving with the emergency brake
on, or perhaps—was the engine light on?

  Brad asks in a soft voice, “Where are the car seats?”

  “Oh,” White vapor rushes out of my mouth when I let out a breath of air in relief. “I took them out to arrange the boxes for better visibility.”

  He throws up his hands as his mood flips back to anger. “Better visibility!” Brad turns to walk away from me, and I cringe, waiting for him to yell at me. He whips back around. “I need those goddamn car seats, Chrissy.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I hate disappointing people, and I search for a solution. I say, “There are tons of boxes of stuff in the van.” I move toward the back of the van to lift the hatch. “Maybe one has a car seat in it.”

  Brad says, “My god, you really are as stupid as Fred said you were.”

  “Hey!” My chest aches from the thought that Fred would say that about me. “I’m not stupid.”

  “No, sweetheart? What do you think is in those boxes? Because it sure ain’t car seats. And you and me are in a lot of trouble right now. Just tell me where you put them.”

  My mind is racing as I focus on why Fred would think I’m stupid and why I’m in trouble. I glance at the boxes in the car, wondering what Brad means. I bring donations to Canada every— Over the border. I gulp when it occurs to me what I might have really been transporting. It’s not like I’ve ever searched the boxes of goods since the first couple of times when Fred showed me what he was sending.

  I want to groan because I really have been stupid. But if I’ve been involved in transporting illegal goods, then I don’t think Brad is someone I want to piss off. I take a step back toward the pub as I scramble for what to tell him. “The car seats?” I ask to buy time. If I tell him that they’re in my landlord’s garage below my apartment, that’ll put my landlord’s family in danger. But if I tell him I left the car seats at the shelter, that puts Erin, my boss, Donna, and all sorts of volunteers in danger.