Read The Right to Bear Arms: BBW Military Paranormal Romance (Wild Operatives, #1) Online

Authors: Vivienne Savage

Tags: #bear shifter, #interracial, #alpha, #soldier, #military romance, #alpha male, #billionaire, #shapeshifter

The Right to Bear Arms: BBW Military Paranormal Romance (Wild Operatives, #1) (2 page)

BOOK: The Right to Bear Arms: BBW Military Paranormal Romance (Wild Operatives, #1)
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With the radio turned to my favorite country station, I cruised down the uneven dirt road. Some guy I didn’t recognize stood in the driveway beside Ms. Reyes, gesturing with his hands and angling his body aggressively toward her.

I couldn’t pass by her house in good faith without knowing she’d be all right, so I pulled over beside the ditch and rolled down the passenger side window. Spanish shouts filtered through to me, spoken too fast for my failing memory to translate. I hadn’t taken Spanish in years and never acquired more than a passing knowledge of the language and the phrase “
¿Donde está el baño?
” Keeping up with it took a backseat to learning Russian and Arabic during my twenty years in the Army. Admittedly, I spoke the former better than the latter.

“Everything okay, Ms. Reyes?” I hollered out to her. Issues like this were why I kept a Mossberg in the locked cabinet built into my truck’s rear cab seats. During these dangerous times, a man had to protect his life and property, and I sure didn’t plan to rely on the local police department. I lived about fifteen minutes outside of town down a long and narrow dirt road a half mile past Ms. Reyes’ rented house. I knew her landlord. Ian was a close friend of mine and the squad leader of our elite group. When he told me the new neighbor showed signs of being an abused woman, I promised to keep an eye on her — watch out for her if I could.

“No, I’m—”

“She’s fine,” the man yelled back in English. As he shot a dirty look toward my truck, I noticed his stereotypical pencil mustache, which made him resemble a Disney villain. My bad feeling was worsened by Daniela’s red cheeks and stiff posture. I hated bullies.

I gave him a dubious look. “Yeah?” I thought of all the times good Samaritans rushed to the rescue and ended up getting shot or worse. Stepping from the truck, I rounded the front end with my Mossberg held down at my side. The guy backed up with his hands held up.

“Whoa, man. You can’t just go around aiming shit like that at people. I didn’t do anything here.”

“I didn’t aim anything at you
yet
,” I replied. “Is he giving you problems, Daniela?”

“Who the hell are you, man?”

“Just a member of the friendly neighborhood watch,” I told him with an easy smile. “We don’t take kindly to troublemakers in these parts.” I drawled it out, hoping he got the picture:
I’m a country boy and I will light you up if you hurt this woman.

Thunder rumbled overhead. The rain didn’t bother me much, but I could tell Daniela was cold. Her black hair was plastered to her head and her lips trembled. The thin, pale blue cashmere sweater she had on may as well have been transparent since she was soaked through. It did nothing to disguise the dark bra worn beneath or the fact that her nipples were tightly stiffened from the cold, and... And I needed to keep my mind on track.

“Go home, Mike,” Daniela muttered, drawing away toward her house with both arms wrapped around herself. “We have nothing more to discuss. It’s over.”

Mike ignored her. “You think you’re big because you’ve got that shotgun, don’t you? Bet you wouldn’t be shit without it. You’re a coward, man.”

I glanced at the troublemaker beside his big, overpriced truck, and deduced he was probably the ex-husband she moved here to escape. “Daniela?”

“I don’t want any trouble,” she whispered. Ian was right. She was a domestic violence survivor, and I’d put my life savings down on this asshole being her former abuser.

“Go on up on the porch, Daniela, before you catch a cold.” I maneuvered in close until I was beside her, my body between hers and Mike.

“This has nothing to do with you, asshole, so get back in your damn truck and get the hell out of here. Daniela, you keep your fat ass where it is until I say you can go.”

I passed the shotgun into her hands and advanced on her ex. “You want to do this? I’m right here.”

I let him score the first hit. His fists were light and fast without any power behind them, barely more than a swat to my face and a second to the ribs. I knew guys like him from sparring in the military during training sessions. They were the small ones, lithe in build and stream-lined, the sort who favored a lot of fancy footwork. His speed didn’t help him; I only had to hit him once. My fist crashed into pretty boy’s jaw and knocked him backward onto the wet pavement, barely bruising my knuckles in the process. The satisfying crack of impact made me grin.

“Good enough to bully a woman, but you can’t beat on me, can you? Come on. I’m waitin’.”

He glared up at me from the ground, his face wet with rain and tears no doubt. I hit like a freight train when I wanted to, and for him, I’d held nothing back.

“You want to fuck her that bad? You can have her. She only has two tricks, and once you get tired of her laying there, you’ll be ready to give her back and go back to fucking your cousin in the woods.”

When I stepped toward him to finish what I started, he sprang up from the ground and darted around his truck. He hopped into the driver’s seat and peeled out of the drive. Once he rumbled out of sight, I turned my attention back to Daniela.

She was mortified, and I couldn’t blame her one bit. Avoiding any chance of meeting my eyes, her trembling hands passed the shotgun back to me while her face turned away.

“Daniela? You okay, darlin’?”

“I’m fine,” she lied through her teeth.

“Why don’t you go on inside and get dry? He won’t be back tonight.” He’d be going to the ER to get an x-ray if he knew what was good for him.

“Yeah, I should... He didn’t hurt you, right? I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, ma’am. Give a holler if he bothers you again.”

I waited for the lock to click into place before I headed back to my truck, wiping water from my face. Once I reached home, I parked under the carport and headed inside to receive a greeting from my best friend. Trigger met me at the door with his tail wagging.

“Hey there, boy. Missed you,” I rubbed his ears a few times then kicked off my boots while he ran out and handled his business. I shed my soaking wet clothes and tossed them into the bathroom hamper, delaying my usual afternoon routine for a shower.

I was starved by the time I finished, changed, and poured a couple generous scoops of food into Trigger’s bowl. I settled for a cold sandwich, too hopeless in the kitchen to make much more than stew and chili. Sometimes a little old lady from down the road brought me a casserole and a pie, but I survived the rest of the time on crockpot soup and barbecue from the grill.

“Met a real jerk today, boy. You’d have had fun with him.” Trigger’s soulful brown eyes gazed into mine with understanding. “But I think I did the right thing.”

I hoped I did. Back while I was away on my sixth deployment, one of our neighbors gave my wife, Katie, a load of trouble about her songbirds shitting on his car. She’d argued with him, headstrong and stubborn to the very last word, and then one day, she’d gone outside to find little feathered bodies in different corners of the yard.

Ian had been our other neighbor and home to enjoy his R&R, and after she despaired, he’d taken it upon himself to set up a hidden camera angled into our yard. When the cops wouldn’t take action without proof, Ian did the work and gave the evidence to them. Our bullying neighbor paid some hefty fines, and eventually, more songbirds returned to our feeders.

I didn’t know my wife was sick then. She kept it hidden, and her birds were a way for her to deal with her physical pain. She hadn’t wanted to worry me while I was away in Afghanistan. At the end, I barely made it home in time to say goodbye to her, and by then, I’d lost precious time I could have held her in my arms.

Daniela wasn’t my wife, but she was someone’s daughter, someone’s sister maybe, and I wanted to look after her the way Ian had once helped my Katie when she needed a hand. The next time her ex showed up uninvited, I’d break him in half. Better yet, I’d teach the woman to do it herself.

Chapter Two

~Daniela~

“I
’ve never been so embarrassed in all of my life,” I blurted into the phone.

My younger sister chuckled. I could picture her reclined in bed, twisting a strand of her dark red hair around one finger. “Your neighbor sounds like a nice guy. Married?” Marta asked.

“No. Word in the neighborhood is he moved here after his wife died.”

“Then maybe you need to—”

I cut her off quickly. “I do not need to bone him, Marta. Back off that train.”

I loved my sister, but she thought everything could be fixed by hopping on the D. Sometimes that was the truth, but in most cases, fucking the problem away wasn’t a realistic solution. I’d tried that with Michael for a decade to no avail.

“Well, damn. Sorry for trying to make a suggestion.”

The rain storm continued to rage outside, blowing through the trees so hard their green tops bowed. I probably wouldn’t see my bear in the morning, and that disappointed me more than it should.

“Ugh. I’m sorry. I took a hot shower, but I’m still kind of cold from being out in the rain. I guess it’s making me irritable.”

“Get under the blankets with a drink, sis. I’ll talk to you soon. Take it easy this weekend and don’t let Michael spoil it.”

“I won’t,” I promised. “Love you. Night.”

After we ended our phone call, I traipsed downstairs to make a hot mug of cocoa with the chocolate my dad brought back from a business trip to Mexico. A sudden flash of lightning revealed my empty yard, accompanied by crashing thunder that nearly made me spill the milk. I poured a liberal amount of Bailey’s into the finished cup, returned upstairs, and tucked myself into bed with the lights dimmed.

I dreamed of bears that night — of running barefoot through the overgrown woods bordering my home with the scent of the wet trees and moist earth all around me. He was leading me somewhere, but I wasn’t fast enough to keep pace. The chase continued until my tiring leg muscles gave out and I collapsed to the mossy bottom of the forest floor.

Convinced my bear had abandoned me, I lay motionless, waiting for the cramps in my legs to fade. Gentle hands caressed me, and when my eyes opened, I gazed up into warm brown eyes and tousled dark hair. Russell had the perfect chest, touched by a scattering of black hair over chiseled pecs. His abs were rock-hard and flawless, the kind I could bounce a quarter off. He wore only jeans, but the hard bulge beneath his zipper responded to my touch, twitching when my fingers stroked over the denim.

His mouth crashed into mine, the perfect kiss, breath-stealing, hungry, and impatient for more. Our tongues tangled to the rhythm of our rising passion while his eager hands traced my shape. I soon realized I was completely naked. Bared. Heat rose to my cheeks as a masculine palm scooped my large breast.

The scent of the open forest surrounded us, carrying juniper and damp earth. The cool soil beneath my back became the perfect cushion as my lover’s head dipped. He was dragging his mouth over me, kiss by kiss, inch by inch, tasting me until he reached my quivering breasts, closing his lips around my left nipple. Moist heat surrounded the aching tip; then his teeth skimmed over the edge of the tightly puckered flesh.

His fingertips had the calloused texture of a man who worked with his hands. Slender but strong digits crawled over my hips — the ones I used to loathe for their width — introducing me to the scratch of his roughened skin.

I startled awake when his fingers dove into my pussy, sprawled on my back with the sheets tangled around my legs. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d woken from a dream so stirred up, but the aching need I felt was undeniable. Sliding my fingers down my body, I traced the path my dream lover had taken, skimming over my full breasts, then down to my hips. The dream had ended there, but I wanted more.

I sighed. Masturbating wasn’t going to scratch the itch I had for a man.

“I’m losing my mind. Dreaming about bears and sexy widowed Army men,” I groaned into one hand. As far as I was concerned, I hoped to never run into my gorgeous neighbor again after that humiliating debacle in my front yard.

I left the bed with Sergeant Sexy on my mind. Wearing only a thin robe over my curves, I invaded the kitchen and fried up a heavy breakfast of potatoes, chorizo, and eggs.

Michael would have bitched, claiming the meal would add a few more inches to my thighs. The more he stressed me about my weight, the more I seemed to gain. I couldn’t even fit a calf into my old jeans, but I was happy now and free of the constant dieting to try to please him. I’d never be content with the jiggling of my thighs, but I didn’t miss food diaries and slaving over a treadmill.

The rain had ended sometime during the night, leaving a layer of moisture on the patio and the world beyond it. I sighed and watched from the glass door instead of going outside to enjoy the birds flitting to my bird feeder. It was doomed to be one hell of a muggy, uncomfortable Texas day. Leaning against the glass door with my plate in hand, I shoveled food in my mouth and muttered about the unfortunate weather.

Then I saw him. The bear shuffled past at a lumbering pace. He glanced at the hammock in passing, like it had become habit for him now, too.

Impulse made me throw open the door. “Wait, don’t go!”

The bear halted immediately and turned his face toward me.

“I have eggs!” I called out to him, feeling silly the very moment the words left my mouth.

Without considering how absurd it was to expect him to understand me and wait, I hurried back to the stove and shoveled most of my plate into the cooling skillet. The bear had not left when I came back outside, standing still behind the leafy ferns. I ventured forward a few feet and set the heavy cast iron on the grass, then backed away slowly. The breeze caught my loosely sashed robe and blew it open, but with no one present but the bear to see it I didn’t care.

I humanized him when I imagined appreciation in his deep brown eyes. Brown eyes that struck me as familiar when I watched him from afar. The animal ate his meal and continued out of the yard, but he left me with the lasting impression that he would continue to return.

BOOK: The Right to Bear Arms: BBW Military Paranormal Romance (Wild Operatives, #1)
8.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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