Target: BillionBear: BBW Bear Shifter Paranormal Romance by Zoe Chant Read Free Book Online Page B

small hands clamped on his arm, and both he and Kesley recoiled, each trying to save the other: he took a step, sheltering her for a second before a violent jolt on the back of his shoulder spun him around. His arms wrapped around her protectively, and then he and Kesley hit the sidewalk, and the little lights flashing across his vision snuffed one by one.
     
    * * *
     
    Kesley sat up, the world spinning. Though James had taken the brunt of the fall, pain throbbed through her hip where she’d landed, and she knew she’d have a whopping bruise on her butt by the time the day ended. But at least, she thought hazily, shifters healed fast—it would be multicolored ugly by nightfall, and gone by tomorrow.
    But what about him? She didn’t know what to make of James Whatever. She didn’t know why her raccoon had gone ape-shit inside her while she was trying to finish up the orders from a very important buyer for half-a-dozen boutique stores up and down the coast that catered to tourists.
    All she knew was, her raccoon had been frantic—the sense of impending danger had not come from him, but from somewhere else . . .
    . . . and then that motorcycle had come out of nowhere, aiming straight at them.
    No, at him .
    His eyelids lifted, and pale hazel eyes stared upward, traveled around, and then warmed when they lit on her.
    “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough.
    Kesley couldn’t talk—she couldn’t move—she was drowning in his gaze.
    “Who was that lowlife on the bike?” David appeared at the door. “I called 911 on his ass.”
    “Not that Teddy Odom will be here anytime soon,” Aunt Julia said. She must have walked up from the hotel. “He’s probably up at Carter’s Crick, flirting with Annalee Lewis. As usual. Bandit, honey, are you okay? Did he hit you both?”
    Kesley looked away from the guy, and her wits began to trickle back. What had felt like hours had actually been a few seconds. She rolled to her knees and tried to get up, but her joints were watery from adrenaline. That creep tried to run James down.
    “Let’s get you inside,” she said to the man trying slowly to sit up. His complexion was pale, his mouth tight with pain.
    Kesley knew he’d been hit, and for a non-shifter, slamming onto the concrete sidewalk the wrong way could have worsened whatever damage he’d taken from the initial hit.
    She realized that a couple other shopkeepers had come out, everyone speculating.
    “ . . . long gone,” Stu Rosen from the grocery was saying.
    “Five gets you ten that lowlife was one of that gang of biker skinheads staying up at Dottie’s,” Aunt Julia was saying with disgust. “Bob Taggard would chase a penny into a gutter, and kick a beggar to get it first.”
    Kesley ignored them all and stuck out a hand as James slowly rose, wincing grimly. To her surprise, he let her guide him inside. Leaving the others still wondering and speculating, she led him to the back room, and coaxed him onto the couch where the workers usually took their breaks.
    He sank back with a sigh.
    “Shall I call Doc Lewis?” Kesley asked.
    “No,” he said, though his eyes were closed as he leaned his head back against the top of the couch. “I’m just banged up. There’s nothing a doctor can do except look at me and say, ‘Dude, you’re banged up.’”
    “Are you sure? You might have a cracked rib or something,” Kesley said.
    His eyes opened, warming once again when they met her gaze. “I’ve had enough recent experience of hospitals and broken bones to gauge my level of pain. He clipped my shoulder with those high handlebars. Thanks to you, it wasn’t worse.” He flexed his hand, and winced as he rotated his shoulder. “It hurts like hell. But nothing broken.”
    “If you say so,” she murmured, wrenching her gaze from those eyes to his shoulder. “How long were you in the hospital?”
    He frowned, but not in anger. It was more of a wince, and then he passed his hands over his face. “I don’t know.