Ignite: A Werebear + BBW Paranormal Romance (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters Book 3) Read online

  "You could switch projects, Evan," Mom shot back. "Work on something a little closer to home. What about the proposed expansion of the Bearpaw Springs Resort? Don't they need someone to work on a habitat conservation plan?"

  "Mom." Evan tried to keep his tone even. "Are you seriously trying to argue me into mating and fatherhood? I'm not ready to settle down, and that's final." He tried one of his lopsided grins on her. They usually managed to soften up his dates. "For now, anyway."

  The grin didn't work on Mom. Her disappointment showed no signs of thawing.

  Dane raised his dark brows. "I don't know, Evan," he said, with a teasing glint in his eye. "Fatherhood can be very rewarding. I'd be happy to lend you Matthew for a long weekend. I'm sure you'll want one of your own by the time Annabeth and I return from our trip to California this November."

  Evan looked at his nephew's one-toothed grin and felt an unwilling surge of warmth. The kid was pretty cute…

  He ruthlessly suppressed his feelings.

  "Nice try at scoring free babysitting while you whisk your beautiful wife away for a week on the West Coast," he told his oldest brother.

  Annabeth dimpled prettily. "I told Dane it wouldn't work," she informed Evan. "My plan was to bribe you with cinnamon rolls. Lots and lots of cinnamon rolls."

  "You evil temptress!" Evan laughed. "The answer would still be 'no,' sorry."

  He sighed and looked around the table at his family.

  His brothers all looked more-or-less sympathetic to his predicament, though his youngest brother Ashton was smirking at Evan from the far end of the table. Annabeth and Caitlyn both looked like they wanted to break into giggles at any moment.

  Mom was the only one who looked genuinely upset. Evan sighed again.

  "Look, Mom, you once told me that when I met my mate, I'd know. I mean, look how happy Mark and Dane are! I want that someday, really I do. But when I tried to picture that kind of future with Emma, it just felt…wrong. And panic-inducing."

  Mark snickered at this, the jerk.

  "Panic. Right. Told you so," he said smugly to Caitlyn.

  "I'm just worried that you're being unrealistic," Mom said, apparently undeterred. "You're getting older, and—"

  The phone in the kitchen rang.

  Saved by the bell, Evan thought with genuine relief as his mother left the formal dining room to answer the call.

  The dinner conversation came to a halt as Evan and his brothers stared at the swinging door to the kitchen. With their enhanced shifter senses, they could hear both sides of the conversation perfectly well.

  "What's going on?" asked Caitlyn, who was an investigative reporter for a popular paranormal investigations website. She looked around the room, taking in their dismayed expressions. "Bad news?"

  "Yeah," said Mark. "Aunt Margaret's on the phone."

  Evan saw Annabeth wince. "Oh no! What happened?"

  Aunt Margaret had been the officiant at her wedding two years ago, and Annabeth was very close to the older woman.

  Dane shook his head. "I'll tell you later, if Mom doesn't say anything about it."

  Mom ended the call with words of sympathy and returned to the dining room.

  Out of courtesy to her two Ordinary daughters-in-law, she explained, "That was Margaret. You might recall that her son Patrick is a paleontologist at the University of Alaska? Margaret just received a call from the head of the Liscombe Dig project. Patrick and his wife Jessica were on their way to the dig site when their plane disappeared."

  Annabeth's eyes widened in horror. "Did it crash?"

  Mom shook her head. "We don't know yet. The authorities are searching for it, but all we know at this point is that the plane is overdue, and its emergency locator transmitter was never activated."

  "Wasn't Patrick mated to an Ordinary woman?" asked Mark. "And didn't he have a child?"

  "Yes, and yes," Mom said, her unhappy expression deepening. "A baby girl named Olivia."

  "Is the baby a shifter too?" Caitlyn asked eagerly.

  Evan wondered if she was asking from the perspective of an investigative reporter or as Mark's mate and the prospective mother of his children.

  Knowing Caitlyn, it was probably both.

  "I'm not sure," Mom said slowly. "Margaret and Patrick had a huge fight about his choice of a mate, and he hasn't been in contact with his mother since, except for an email letting her know of his daughter's birth." She let out a frustrated huff. "He hasn't been in contact with any of us, either. It's as if he wanted to cut all ties to our clan once he married that Ordinary…er, Jessica." She cast an apologetic glance at Annabeth and Caitlyn.

  "What's going to happen to the baby now?" asked Annabeth, a frown drawing a line between her red-gold brows. "Where is she? Her parents didn't take her with them to the dig, did they?"

  Mom shook her head. "I don't know, honey. Margaret didn't know, either. She's worried sick about her boy. And Jessica, too, of course."

  "And I'm worried about what will happen if the plane really did crash and if there's an autopsy," Mark said quietly. "What if Patrick's dead, and a medical examiner notices that he's more than merely human? That could endanger all of us."

  Evan blew out a breath. "No kidding," he agreed. "It's one thing when fringe websites, like the one Jake Zimmerman runs, claim that shifters are real and living among us—no offense, Caitlyn," he added hastily, since Jake Zimmerman was her boss at the popular Mythtrust News site.

  She gave him an airy wave, indicating no offense was taken.

  Her job made her the target of frequent ribbing by her shifter in-laws, and she was always good-humored about the teasing, giving as good as she got.

  "But it's another thing entirely if the authorities get hold of an actual genetic sample…and recognize what it is," Evan finished.

  As part of his duties as a wildlife biologist for Idaho Fish and Game, he processed a lot of genetic samples. And he knew that a shifter's tissue sample would definitely show up as a highly interesting abnormality to anyone who was paying attention.

  "And if that happens, little Olivia, wherever she is, may be in more danger than anyone realizes," Mark finished soberly. "We've got to locate her, and quickly. Without her father to protect her, she needs to be with her kin. With us."

  Chapter 2

  Cupertino, California

  "Stephanie Tristan?" said the middle-aged woman as she approached Steffi with brisk strides.

  It was a warm, sunny late May day. Behind a light haze of smog, the East Bay hills were already shifting from their spring green to summer gold. The last rain of the season had fallen three weeks ago, and now it probably wouldn't rain again until mid-October.

  Steffi had spent a sleepless night after that call from her dad. Her overactive imagination had presented her with dozens of scenarios that ended variously with airplane wreckage strewn across steep mountain slopes and Patrick and Jessica dead; the plane safely landed and everyone camping in the Alaskan wilderness until help arrived; or the plane crashed but mostly intact but the survivors being eaten by hungry grizzlies or packs of wolves.

  She couldn't imagine life without her sister. Jessica had always been both her rival and her inspiration. Her best friend and her worst enemy.

  The next day, despite her fractured concentration and lots of interruptions from a restless Olivia, Steffi managed to draft a set of customer communications and a beta-test survey for Copper Shark's upcoming beta release.

  When it was time for a break and for Royce's walk, she had decided to take her niece and her dog to Wilson Park, just a few blocks away from her condo.

  Olivia was still too young to enjoy the playground equipment, but the park had paved, stroller-friendly paths. Sleep-deprived and feeling shell-shocked by yesterday's news, Steffi was more than ready for some fresh air after hours of staring at a computer screen.

  "Uh, hi?" Steffi said, startled, as the woman bore down on her stroller.

  Royce sat next to the stroller, tongue lolling and whiske
y-colored eyes intent on the newcomer.

  Steffi squinted at the stranger, trying to focus her tired eyes. She was pretty sure she didn't know this woman, but it never hurt to make sure.

  The other woman had smooth dark brown hair and gray eyes set in an unremarkable face. She wore a pleasant smile and was dressed like an HR manager or mid-level executive, with tailored trousers and a cream silk blouse under a dark green jacket and understated pearls at her throat and ears.

  She looked like someone Steffi might have worked for at some point, but Steffi was 100% certain that she'd never seen this woman before in her life.

  Was she some kind of corporate headhunter? If so, this was downright stalkerish, no matter how hot the job market was currently.

  "Oh, what a cutie!" the woman burbled as she came to a halt in front of the stroller. She gave Royce a quick, dismissive glance and bent to peer at Olivia. "Is she yours?"

  Steffi opened her mouth to deny it, but some deep-seated impulse took control. "Yes!" she found herself saying.

  The stranger's eyes were suddenly sharp as she glanced up at Steffi. "Really?"

  Steffi blinked. Unease rolled through her. "What kind of a question is that?" she blurted.

  She tried to maneuver the stroller around the woman, but found herself blocked by a smooth sidestep.

  "I mean, you are Stephanie Tristan, aren't you?"

  Okay, this is getting seriously creepy now.

  Steffi looked around, but she was alone. All of the other people at the park were clustered around the edge of the playground several hundred yards away, watching the children clambering on the equipment.

  "Um, do I know you?" Steffi backed up a step or two, putting a bit of distance between the woman and the stroller.

  Royce, always sensitive to Steffi's mood, gave a low, deep growl.

  "Do you have a sister named Dr. Jessica Swanson, who's married to Dr. Patrick Swanson?" the woman continued, halting her advance.

  "Who are you?" Steffi demanded. She pulled the stroller further back and slid her hand into the pocket of her jeans, reaching for her phone.

  "Look, I'm just trying to help," said the woman, extending her hand. "I'm one of Dr. Swanson's—Patrick's—colleagues. He asked me to look in on his daughter Olivia and make sure she was okay."

  She took a step forward, and Royce growled again, this time showing teeth.

  Steffi all but yanked the stroller away and maneuvered it so that she stood between Olivia and the stranger. Royce leaned against her leg, his solid, muscular body a reassuring presence. "And exactly when did he ask you do that?"

  The other woman halted. "I spoke with him this morning—"

  "Liar!" snarled Steffi with unaccustomed ferocity. She usually went out of her way to avoid confrontations, but every instinct was screaming that both she and Olivia were in danger. "I guess you didn't hear about the plane crash, huh?"

  The woman froze, her mouth opening in obvious shock. Steffi took the opportunity to whip out her phone and snap a picture of the woman.

  Then she dialed 911. And promptly heard a recording that all lines were currently busy, but to please stay on the line for the next available dispatcher. Gah!

  The woman took another step forward. "You have to listen to me!" she said, her tone urgent. "That child is very special! Your sister never told you about—"

  Royce snarled and lunged at the woman, nearly yanking his leash out of Steffi's hand. The woman backpedaled at the sight of his bared teeth.

  "911, what's your emergency?" said a brisk male voice in Steffi's ear.

  "I'd like to report a possible child abduction attempt at Wilson Park in Cupertino," Steffi said, her voice shaking.

  "That's not true!" The woman gasped in outrage.

  Then she spun on her heel and began striding briskly away. It was only then that Steffi noticed the large white SUV with tinted windows parked along the curb nearby.

  "She's getting away!"

  "Don't try to pursue her," advised the dispatcher. "I've notified the Cupertino police, and they're on their way. Just try to remember as many details as possible and which direction she went. Now, ma'am, can you tell me if anyone's injured?"

  "No—no. I didn't let her touch Olivia! But she knew our names! She knew my sister's name!" Steffi began to shake as she continued to answer the dispatcher's questions with a description of the woman's appearance and clothing.

  All the while, she stared at the woman's retreating figure as she approached the SUV and got inside the passenger side.

  It was too far away for her to be able to read the SUV's license plate, but she gave the dispatcher the best description she could—make, model, color, and approximate age.

  Unwilling to chase the woman as long as she had Olivia with her, Steffi continued to answer the 911 dispatcher's calm questions.

  She watched in frustration as the SUV pulled away from the curb and turned into one of the side streets of the neighborhood bordering the park.

  A few seconds later, a Cupertino police cruiser came into sight on the other side of the park. Weak with relief at the sight of the police car, Steffi hailed the officer and let the dispatcher know that the police had arrived on the scene.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the white SUV disappear around a corner.

  * * *

  It was late in the afternoon before Steffi, Royce, and Olivia returned to the condo.

  The normally cheerful Olivia was hungry, cranky, and way overdue for her nap. As Steffi pushed the stroller inside her home to the accompaniment of nonstop wails, her frazzled self badly wanted a nap too.

  She felt exhausted and drained by her ordeal, and her mind was buzzing with unanswered questions.

  Who was that woman, anyway? How did she know who I was? How did she know about Patrick and Jessica and Olivia?

  The whole incident had been creepy and deeply unsettling and had left Steffi's stomach churning with a sickening mixture of terror and outrage.

  At least the female officer who had responded to Steffi's 911 call had taken the incident seriously. She had put out an APB on the white SUV, and after taking Steffi's report of the incident, she had commended Steffi for her quick thinking in taking a photo of the suspect.

  Royce had received a pat on the head and a resounding "Good boy, Royce!" from the officer, who said she had a dog of her own at home.

  Now home at last, Steffi put Olivia in her high chair, tied a bib around her neck, and fed her a snack of applesauce, crackers, and dry Cheerios.

  Olivia stopped crying and wolfed them all down. As usual, she ended up wearing almost as much applesauce as she consumed. She even managed to smear a clump into her dark hair.

  Royce was on self-appointed floor cleanup duty, happily scrambling after Cheerios as they tumbled off the high chair's tray. This distracted Olivia from her grumpiness at last, and she giggled as Royce thrust his nose under her legs to snabble up a stray Cheerio.

  It was all fun and games until Olivia dangled a cracker over the edge of her high chair, and Royce grabbed it out of her hand.

  Olivia promptly melted down. Her little face turned red and she opened her mouth in an outraged shriek, exposing toothless gums. Her fists waved in the air as she expressed her displeasure at full volume, and Steffi winced at the sound.

  And then, right in front of Steffi's horrified gaze, something earth-shatteringly weird happened.

  Olivia's chubby baby features began to melt and reform, lengthening and darkening as a dense layer of dark brown fur sprouted. Her body stretched and twisted within the confines of the high chair as her crying turned into an agonized wail.

  Her mouth, now an elongated muzzle, opened wide, and Steffi saw rows of small, pointed white teeth.

  A few moments later, she found herself staring in disbelief at a bear cub trapped inside Olivia's onesie.

  What the hell? This can't be happening!

  As she stood frozen with shock, trying to comprehend what she'd just seen, the cub yowled. With t
he help of its paws, it quickly wriggled and squirmed its way out of the high chair.

  Too late, Steffi snapped out of her daze and threw herself at the chair, trying to catch the cub as it launched itself into space.

  She missed by fractions of an inch, soft fur brushing her fingertips as the little bear, still clad in Olivia's onesie, landed on the kitchen floor with a thump.

  "Olivia!" she cried.

  Apparently unharmed by the short fall, the cub scrambled to its feet, curved claws clicking and scrabbling against the floor tiles, and headed straight for Royce, who was crouched in front of the high chair, trying to lick up the last of the scattered cracker crumbs.

  Steffi's dog seemed just as surprised by the unexpected transformation as Steffi had been.

  With an expression of canine shock, Royce yelped at the cub's approach and backpedaled frantically to hide behind Steffi's legs.

  Great guard dog you turned out to be! Steffi thought ruefully as she felt him pressing against the backs of her knees.

  But she was relieved that he hadn't immediately attacked the Olivia-cub.

  Moving awkwardly, the bear cub went under the dining table and crawled through the maze of chair legs, snuffling and licking up stray crumbs as it went.

  Steffi dropped to her knees and peered under the table. "Olivia?" she said, tentatively.

  Royce crowded in at her side, sniffing the air and looking confused. He made no attempt to approach the cub but instead, leaned hard against Steffi's shoulder and panted as he watched the cub's clumsy progress.

  The Olivia-cub took no notice of either one of them. It snarfled up the last Cheerio and looked around for more. When none were forthcoming, it sat on its haunches and yawned. Its muzzle gaped, revealing a long pink tongue and, again, the rows of small, sharp teeth.