Roaring Up the Wrong Tree by Celia Kyle Read Free Book Online

yellow caught his eye, some balled and others flitting in the wind.
    Keen remembered the place used to belong to one of the bears who betrayed the clan and tried to kill both Mia and Lauren. He wondered who’d taken possession of it and why they hadn’t bothered fixing it up.
    A high-pitched, feminine curse split the air, reaching through his windshield and grabbing him by the throat.
    Trista.
    He was out of his SUV before the desire to go to her fully formed. One moment he sat behind the wheel of his vehicle, the engine softly purring, and the next he was on the move. He bolted toward the stairwell, hunting her. His bear lent his assistance, allowing him to sniff out her path as he ran. He raced up one level and then sprinted up another before sliding to a stop on the landing.
    Another curse, this one louder than the last, reached him and he hurried to her. He paused in an open doorway and gripped the door frame. The scent surrounding the area told him this was her place and he scowled. The room was sparse and that was being generous in his description.
    There was literally no furniture in sight. No couch or dining room table and the walls were bare. Just… nothing.
    “Fuckery Fuck McFuckerson!” Trista came stomping into the living room and froze, glaring at him. She pointed a finger in his direction and sneered. “Don’t tell me what to say. And if you even think of going furry on my pissed-off ass I will cut you.”
    “Um… Okay?”
    He wasn’t sure what the problem was, but he wanted to fix it. He and the bear wanted to put a smile on her face and keep it there. Forever.
    That thought gave him a gut-check. After all these years, all the women, the bear really had settled on a single female.
    Trista .
    “I can’t believe he did it. He fucking did it.” She ran her hands through her hair and then down her neck, lifting her face to the ceiling. The move exposed the smooth line of her throat. Or rather, not smooth. Scars littered her pale skin and he opened his mouth to ask about them, but she kept speaking. “It’s all gone.”
    “Gone? This isn’t how it normally is?” He knew she didn’t have money, her clothes attested to that.
    That earned him a wide-eyed stare. “Seriously?”
    “Uh…” He was so out of depth with her.
    Trista took another look through the room, glaring at the blank walls, and then stomped toward him. “Fuck this. The bastard took my bed and I want that shit back.”
    When she got close, he stepped out of the way and let her pass. She tramped down the stairs, speed increasing as she neared the first floor. She broke into a brisk walk once she hit the sidewalk, feet moving faster and faster with each step. By the time they rounded the end of the building she was practically running.
    He didn’t know where she was headed, but he refused to leave her side, even when she glared at him. Instead of justifying his presence, he shrugged and kept up with her. Something obviously infuriated her and he wanted to be there when she confronted whoever she was poised to challenge.
    She finally halted before a battered, dented door and instantly began pounding on it with her fist. “Hey! Asshole! Open this fucking door!” She kicked the metal panel. “I want my shit back! I want my bed, dickhead!”
    Keen’s bear rose to its feet, a threatening rumble filling his mind. “He took your things?”
    His voice was soft, but the threat lingered in his tone. He would take on the male behind the door and get Trista’s belongings back whether the man had a right to them or not. Period.
    Trista glowered. “Why are you here? I can take care of myself. Go home to one of your girlfriends or something. Find Bambi or whatever.” She pounded on the door some more. “Hey, asshole, open up.”
    He ignored the dig and the denial sprung to his lips. He didn’t have a woman in every corner of the town. There was a reason. Without them he…
    “Obviously,” he drawled. “Is this the new owner’s