Bad Bear Redemption (Bad Boy Bear Shifters Book 3) Read online

  Bad Bear Redemption

  Liv Brywood

  Contents

  Description

  Excerpt

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  About the Author

  Bad Bear Redemption

  Copyright© 2019 Liv Brywood

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Description

  A second chance at love between fated mates…

  Bear shifter Dusty Kirkland never forgave himself for causing the tragic accident that nearly killed his best friend Laurie. After enduring a litany of hate from members of their small town, he left, vowing never to return. But years later, a phone call from Laurie changes everything. He returns to Yellowstone Mountain to take care of his late sister’s 13-year-old son. Dusty doesn’t deserve redemption, but he needs it. He’s determined to get a second chance with his mate. He may be a bad boy bear shifter, but behind his growly face and ripped body, he’s hiding a heart of gold. He’ll do whatever it takes to convince his mate that they deserve happiness, and if he’s lucky, he’ll have a second chance at finding love.

  Excerpt

  He stood rooted in place as she pushed away from the rail. She walked toward him and slid her hands around his waist. As she looked up at him, his belly clenched. The need to kiss her overwhelmed him, but would she slap him or draw him closer?

  He tilted his head to one side. Their gazes locked. She licked her bottom lip. That was all it took. He leaned in to kiss her. All of the passion and desire he’d been holding back exploded into his kiss. Her warm lips moved across his, matching his gentle exploration. She tasted of sugar and banana, sweet and irresistible. He couldn’t stop kissing her.

  When she moaned against his lips, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She pulled his shirt free from his jeans. Her fingers danced across the trembling flesh on his back. Shivers of need sent blood rushing south. He angled his hips back, afraid of scaring her with the evidence of his desire. They’d kissed more times than he could count, but he’d never had the chance to make love to her. He’d planned on doing it that night, but then they’d crashed.

  He gently pulled back. Her gaze darted across his face as if she were searching for something. The edges of her lips turned down just enough to break the spell.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  She put a finger to his lips to silence him. “Stop telling me you’re sorry.”

  1

  Dusty squinted against the bright halogen lights rimming the truck stop. After driving five hundred miles through nothing but cornfields, he was ready to call it a night. He pulled his rig into a space between two refrigerated trucks. He hopped out and rolled his shoulders. Although he’d stopped to stretch a few hours earlier, his tendons were tighter than spandex on a nun. His bear grumbled.

  “I know, I know,” Dusty muttered. “But we can’t shift here. As much as I’d love to run wild through the corn fields, we can’t risk running into the children of the corn.”

  His bear huffed and rolled his eyes. The beast padded around in Dusty’s chest before curling back into a ball to sleep.

  The scent of burnt diesel fuel and sweaty bodies filled the still summer night. A lazy moon hung over Dine and Drive Truck Stop. Dusty couldn’t wait to get his hands on a Slurpee and some beef jerky. He’d stopped for dinner earlier, but his bear was always hungry. Maybe he’d pick up a few bags of chips and some candy for the road.

  A scream pierced the night.

  Dusty whipped toward the cry. It came from somewhere near the shower building. Most truck stops had a place where long haul truckers could get cleaned up. He’d been to this location several times.

  As he jogged toward the gray, box-shaped building, he scanned the parking lot. Several truckers glanced at the showers before continuing toward the convenience store. They knew better than to be nosy, but Dusty couldn’t walk away from someone in need.

  He circled behind the building. A teenage boy lay on the ground. Two burly truckers kicked his ribs and head.

  “What the fuck?” Dusty barked.

  “Mind yer own business,” the taller guy said.

  “Help me!”

  Dusty grabbed the biggest man and tossed him to the side. The trucker landed ten feet away. His friend stopped mid-kick to stare.

  “How’d you—”

  Dusty didn’t give him time to finish his thought. He grabbed the guy and hurled him toward his friend. They tumbled down together into a tangle of twisted limbs.

  As he helped the battered kid up, Dusty kept an eye on the truckers. They stood, dusted themselves off, and were returning for a second beating. Some men never learned.

  A flash of silver glinted in the light. A blade appeared in one man’s hand. He took several running steps toward Dusty, who easily side-stepped the man. Throwing that much weight forward made it hard for the guy to stop his momentum.

  As he stumbled past, Dusty punched his slightly smaller friend right in his gnarled teeth. Blood splattered from the man’s lips. He grunted and fell back, hitting his head on the asphalt. His idiot friend returned for a second attempt with the knife. Dusty dodged a swing, grabbed the man’s wrist, and twisted it until he dropped the handle. It clattered to the floor. Dusty kicked it away.

  “Get the hell out of here before I knock you out,” he snarled.

  “Fuck you, buddy.” The bigger man was clearly the dumber of the two, because his friend split without a word.

  As Dusty squared up with the remaining man, the kid crawled toward the wall. He tried to stand but couldn’t. Momentarily distracted, Dusty almost missed the incoming fist. He jerked his head to the side. The man’s fist caught the edge of his chin, barely grazing it.

  Dusty’s bear growled. The sound burst from his lips before he could stop it. The other trucker’s eyes went wide.

  “What the fuck?” he took a step back.

  “Go before it comes,” Dusty said. As the man turned to run, he added, “Leave the knife.”

  The blade clattered against the asphalt. Dusty grabbed it and slid it into his front pocket. He waited until the guy disappeared around the corner before heading over to check on the kid.

  “You okay?” He reached his hand out. The kid took it and pull himself up.

  “All I wanted was a pack of smokes,” he said.

  “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “You shouldn’t smoke.”

  “What else are you going to do in a town like this?” The kid brushed dirt off his jeans and white T-shirt.

  “Get an education. Go to college. Sometimes it’s the only way out.”

  “Sure.” The kid frowned and looked away.

  “You live around here?”

  “Down
the street.”

  “I’ll give you a ride.”

  “Why?” The kid eyed him with suspicion.

  “So you don’t get your ass kicked again.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “It sure looked like it,” Dusty said with a smirk.

  “Screw you.” The kid took off into a nearby corn field.

  “You’re welcome,” Dusty yelled. “Ungrateful brat.”

  He rubbed the edge of his jaw and moved it around. Although the hit hadn’t fully connected, he’d be sore tomorrow. He tasted blood. As he swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, he felt the crack. Stupid shits. He should have beat the shit out of them to teach them a lesson.

  As he walked back into the main parking lot, he scanned a number of potential hiding spots. Men like those truckers weren’t likely to take off so easily. He fully expected a second round. All he wanted was a few snacks and a damn Slurpee. Why did everything need to be so hard?

  He entered the convenience store, located the beef jerky, and filled a super-sized cup with half blueberry and half cherry Slurpee. He took a sip. The frozen slush chilled his lips, taking away the pain from the cut.

  After paying, he returned to the parking lot. The trucker-thugs were nowhere to be seen. Good. He couldn’t wait to get back on the road and finish this trip.

  As he climbed into his rig, his phone rang. He glanced at the number. It was his sister’s home phone. He hadn’t heard from her in years. For a second, he considered letting it go to voicemail, but she wouldn’t call unless it was important.

  “Hello?”

  “Dusty?”

  The soft, feminine voice startled him. It wasn’t his sister’s voice, but he knew instantly who it was. Air burst from his lungs. He sucked in a breath.

  “Laurie?”

  “You recognized my voice?”

  “I’d never forget it,” he whispered. A lump formed in his throat.

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “Fifteen years.” Three months and five days, but who was counting?

  “I’m sorry that it took me this long to call.”

  “How are you?”

  “Fine, but I have some really bad news.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, but… your sister… Amelia passed away last night.”

  “What?” He slumped back in his seat.

  “She had breast cancer. She fought so hard—” Her voice broke. “But the cancer was too strong.”

  “I can’t believe it.”

  “I know you two didn’t talk much, but I thought you might want to come back for her funeral.”

  “Of course.”

  “There’s one other thing…”

  “What?”

  “You’ll need to decide what to do with your nephew.”

  “My nephew?”

  “Mason.”

  “She had a kid?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “I haven’t talked to her in years. How old is he?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “She never told me.” He hung his head. The last time he’d spoken to her had been five years earlier. She hadn’t mentioned a son. She hadn’t mentioned much about her life, and he hadn’t asked. Every conversation between them had been strained ever since the night of the accident fifteen years earlier.

  “Clark’s staying with Mason until you get here. You’re the only family he has left.”

  “What about his dad?”

  “Whose dad?”

  “Mason’s. He has to have a father.”

  “Bert. He’s not around. Amelia divorced him right before she found out she had cancer. I always wondered if the stress of dealing with him was what tipped her over the edge.”

  “Jesus.”

  “So… you’re coming?”

  “Of course. I’m in Nebraska right now, but I can be back to Yellowstone Mountain in a few days.” He mentally calculated the miles. It was just under a thousand miles, but he had to drop off the current load before he could leave. And he’d have to ask for time off.

  “Come as soon as you can.”

  “I will.”

  “I hope… Drive safe,” she said.

  The line went dead. He set the phone on the seat beside him. His chest ached. His sister was his last living family member. He should have returned home years ago, but he couldn’t get past the hatred in everyone’s eyes. Once the golden child of their small town, he’d turned into a pariah after making the biggest mistake of his life. He’d thought about going home from time to time over the years, but the longer he’d been away, the more the whole thing had felt like a long-distant nightmare, one he didn’t want to revisit. But his nephew needed him. He’d never turn his back on family. Why hadn’t his sister told him about the cancer? How could she keep something so important from him?

  “Dammit!”

  He slammed his palm against the steering wheel. Every regret came back in a rush to constrict his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, then his bear gently nudged his heart.

  “You’re right,” Dusty whispered. “We’re going home.”

  * * *

  Two days later, Dusty drove his Harley through the quaint mountain town he’d called home for the first eighteen years of his life. He rode past the country store and wondered if Mable and Jerry Pickens still owned it. Would they recognize him? It had been fifteen years. Was that enough time to forget the past?

  He shook his head. No. They’d remember. Small town scandal never died. They were probably still talking about what he’d done that fateful night. Prom. It should have been the best night of their lives. Instead, he’d ruined Laurie’s life forever. If only he could go back and change it. If only he could have lost his keys that night.

  As he turned off Main Street, he passed the old soda shop and adjacent movie theater. A litany of memories flooded him: treating Laurie to her first milkshake, kissing her for the first time in the dark theater. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. He’d missed the entire plot because he’d been so worried about making a move. Looking back, the things that had seemed so important at the time weren’t important at all. And the one thing he’d never paid a second thought to was ultimately his undoing. How could he come back to this town and show his face again?

  He only planned on staying long enough to get his sister’s affairs situated. He wasn’t sure what to do about her son, but he couldn’t raise a kid. He could hardly take care of himself. His single-wide trailer, which he’d parked on a dirt pile in middle-of-nowhere Nebraska, wasn’t a good place for a child. Hell, he couldn’t even think of where the nearest high school might be located in relation to his home. He’d have to figure something else out.

  For a brief moment, he considered asking Laurie to take the kid, but he quickly dismissed it. How would that conversation even go?

  Hi, Laurie. I know I ruined your life and left you maimed and in a wheelchair, but would you mind the additional burden of raising my nephew? Oh really? You would? Of course you would, because you’re a god-dammed saint.

  His bear kicked him in the ribs.

  “Ouch. What the hell?”

  “Stop being a whiny bitch,” his bear snapped.

  “I’m not being—"

  Another kick to the ribs shut him up.

  “You will do right by your family, or I swear I’ll claw you to a million pieces,” his bear huffed.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “The hell I can’t. Do you think I enjoy hanging around for your pity parties?” his bear asked. “It’s about time you stopped moping around and got your shit together.”

  “I’m doing the best that I can.”

  “Not even close.”

  “You’re being an asshole.” A sharp claw to the gut sent slicing pain through his belly. “Shit, stop!”

  “You stop being a pain in the ass and I’ll stop,” his bear said.

  “Fine. But you and I both know I can’t raise a kid.”

&n
bsp; “We’ll figure something out.”

  Rather than continue the argument with his bear, he kept his mouth shut. As soon as the beast met the kid, he’d realize they couldn’t take care of him.

  As he pulled into the driveway, he could almost hear his father’s voice and his mother’s tears from the night he’d left town for good. His sister had stayed in the house after their death. Why she hadn’t sold it was beyond him. Maybe she hadn’t shared the same painful memories. Her life had been much easier than his. She hadn’t become the black sheep of the family. His father’s hateful words still haunted him.

  “You’re a screw up. A no-good piece of trash. You’re not my son anymore, so get lost and never come back.”

  Dusty had left that night, never to return—until now.

  He’d never spoken to his father again. Two years later, his parents had died in a car accident. No one called him to tell him. He’d found out by accident years later when he’d found an article online.

  The hair on his arms stood on end. What was he doing here? Did he really owe his family anything? They’d turned their back on him, so why should he try to help anyone now? His sister hadn’t even told him about the kid, and now he was supposed to take care of him? No way. He’d find a way to get out of it. Everyone in town already hated him, so this wouldn’t change a damn thing. Then he could leave for good and never come back. He hated this town and everyone in it. The sooner he could wrap things up, the better. And with any luck, he’d be able to avoid Laurie too. The last thing he needed was a daily reminder of the biggest mistake of his life.

  2

  Dusty sat on his bike for a solid ten minutes before the front door to the ranch-style home opened. Clark, his dad’s best friend, stepped onto the porch.