Guarded by the Grizzly: A Fated Mates Shifter Romance (SWAT Shifters Book 2) Read online

  GUARDED BY THE GRIZZLY

  Book 2 of the SWAT Shifters Series

  Bella Drake

  This is a work of fiction. The characters and events described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or to living persons alive or dead. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  Cover by TheBookBrander.com

  Copyright © 2022 by Bella Drake

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter One

  Nash

  Adrenaline coursed through Nash Barnes’ body as he pressed his back to the wall, assault rifle held against his chest. He was pumped for this operation. Any operation, in fact, that stopped him thinking about her.

  His fated mate.

  The one who was married to another man.

  He grimaced, and tried to push the thought—the horrific image—aside, with about as much success as he had every other waking moment since.

  He was hoping that the rush he got from doing his job as an FBI SWAT team member would finally help to distract him. But even as he waited to enter the building and capture key players in Miami’s cocaine trade industry including the drug lord Juan Martinez, all he could think about was her. Aria Morgan—the most beautiful woman in the world.

  And she belonged to someone else.

  His bear rattled inside his chest, ready to abandon the mission and hunt down Aria’s husband. Nash didn’t get the sense the bear wanted a nice, friendly chat—and that made two of them.

  Our mate, his bear all but bellowed in his head. Kill anyone who dares claim her.

  Even though Nash’s every instinct was pulling him toward the bakery where she worked, he’d fought against it. He’d stayed away, and it had been the longest forty-eight hours of his life. Shit. How had it only been forty-eight hours? Every minute was torture. But he’d done it. He hadn’t even spoken to her.

  Not since Cole, his friend and teammate, had forcefully dragged him away. Nash swallowed hard. Their friendship had almost ended that day. He’d been all set to fight his friend. He’d sworn and raged, and fought to get back inside to his mate, but Cole had made him see sense. He had made him walk away so that her scent didn’t make Nash do something he’d later regret, but putting distance between them hadn’t helped. Now that Nash knew what his mate smelled like, he wouldn’t forget it for as long as he lived. When Nash had calmed down, he’d done the honorable thing and walked away, but with each moment that passed, he regretted that decision more and more.

  He wished he had at least spoken to Aria—gotten to know more about her. After all, he could live with the fact that she was married to someone else if he knew that she was happy and loved. He might even be okay with it.

  His bear’s rumble called him on his bullshit.

  Who was he trying to kid? He would never be okay with it, but he would just have to deal with the misery. All that mattered was his mate’s happiness.

  “Ted,” Cole hissed. “Did you hear me?”

  Nash’s SWAT team nickname jarred him from his morose thoughts, and he blinked over at his best friend.

  “What?”

  “I said we’re moving! Come on,” Cole whispered. “We’re meeting Kit and Hawk around the back of the house. Ice and Flint are going in through the front door.”

  How had Nash missed all that information being imparted? Had it happened here, or back at base? He’d been so distracted in the last two days that he wasn’t sure which way was up. He’d probably missed a ton of info, info he needed to do his job. He sent a reproachful thought in his bear’s direction. This wasn’t good. In his line of work, it was imperative to know every detail of a mission before hitting the streets. When you didn’t, that was when accidents happened. And when you were part of a SWAT team, an accident could mean someone getting injured at best, or killed at worst. Nash would hate to have something like that on his conscience. His teammates relied on him to have his head on straight.

  Protect team. Then mate.

  He took a deep breath then pulled his shoulders back. “Let’s do this.”

  Cole side-eyed him for a long moment before giving a curt nod. He followed his friend around the back of the property, ducking low to pass beneath windows undetected as they went.

  He was going to have to go and see her—talk to her. It was the only way he could set his mind at rest that she was being properly cared for. If he didn’t, his bear would force its way out and then go hunt for her himself. Nash could imagine the terror on people’s faces when they came face to face with a six-hundred-kilogram grizzly bear while walking the streets of South Beach.

  He heaved a sigh. It was just his luck that his mate would turn out to be married. He’d always had bad luck, but this was on another level. He hadn’t told his family yet, but he could already envisage the disappointment on his mother’s face. His older brother Jake had been happily mated for years. His mate was a bear, so they’d both recognized what they were to one another straight away. Everything had been smooth sailing for them. Jake wouldn’t understand what Nash was going through. Nash doubted many shifters would. He had never heard of something like this happening before.

  “Nash,” Cole hissed. “Did you hear what I said?”

  Damn it. He hadn’t heard a thing.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t.”

  Cole sighed then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Do you need to sit this one out?”

  Nash shook his head. “No, I’m good. I’m not gonna lie though, I’ll be glad when this is over.”

  So much for the distraction from his mate.

  “You’re sure you’re okay to do this today?”

  “Perfectly.”

  Cole eyed him dubiously. “Okay, but let it be known this is against my better judgement. I think you could do with a few days off from work, maybe longer.”

  Jesus, Nash couldn’t think of anything worse. The last two nights sitting at home alone had been hell. Being alone hadn’t bothered him before, but now that he knew his mate was out there, he hadn’t been able to sit still for two minutes straight. At least work was keeping his mind off everything. Somewhat. If he had to spend all day and all night cooped up in his house he’d go crazy. And he didn’t trust himself to shift into his bear form right now so it wasn’t like he could shift to blow off steam and while away the hours.

  “I’m good,” he reiterated.

  He hoped that would be the end of it. Nash loved Cole like a brother, but when the wolf shifter set his mind on something he could be as stubborn as a mule. Cole nodded then got them moving again, and Nash breathed a sigh of relief.

  Around the back of the property, they met up with Kit and Hawk and slipped into position, their backs pressed up on either side of the door. The moment Flint, their team leader, busted in through the front with Ice, they’d go in through the back, moving in simultaneously so that the occupants of the house didn’t get the chance to run from room to room and possibly escape. As long as no-one dropped the ball…say, by being too caught up with thoughts of their married mate.

  “We’re in place,” Cole murmured.

  “Copy that. We go on three,” Flint said. “One, two, three!”

  Cole slammed his foot into the door and the wood shattered and splintered with a loud crash. Unlike most SWAT teams, no battering ram requi
red: one of the perks of being shifters. Their extra skills as supernatural creatures were the reason they’d been recruited onto the SWAT team in the first place.

  As a bear shifter, Nash had the best hearing. There was little that escaped his hearing—usually. More proof his head wasn’t in the game, as if he needed it. He shoved the thought aside. Now was not the time to be having feelings about his feelings.

  As they all rushed into the building, the noise from inside the house was so loud that there were few people who wouldn’t have heard it—and those people couldn’t hear anything at all.

  From the other side of the house, Flint shouted at someone to get down. A man cursed in Spanish. Loudly. Ice shouted at someone not to move, and then the sounds of a scuffle reached Nash’s ears. He shook his head. No-one ever listened.

  As he and the others made their way toward the front of the large property, a pair of Mexican guys sprinted their way, guns in hand.

  “FBI! Drop your weapon!” Cole shouted. “Get down on the ground!”

  The first man tossed his weapon and dropped like a stone, but the second lifted his gun and aimed it at Cole. Before he had the chance to squeeze his hand around the trigger, Cole fired his own weapon and the man hit the floor with a loud, dull thud. The agents didn’t break stride: Cole crouched down to press two fingers to the downed man’s neck and Hawk jammed one knee into the other man’s back as he snapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. One glance told Nash the pair had everything under control, and he pressed ahead with Kit.

  There were two doors on their left, the first ajar, and when Nash nudged it open with his foot, it led into a bedroom. The sheets were in disarray as if the person who’d slept there last night hadn’t bothered to make it that morning, or more likely, it had been recently vacated when a heavily armed SWAT team crashed through their doors.

  “I’ll check the bathroom,” Nash whispered.

  Kit nodded. “I’ve got the closet.”

  Nash closed his jaw around a yawn as he crossed the room. He hadn’t slept worth a damn for the past two nights and he didn’t relish the idea of yet another sleepless night. The second this op was over, he was going to go to the bakery to see Aria. He didn’t know if seeing her would help him or make things worse, but he had to do something. He couldn’t go on like this. Staying away from her was pure torture.

  He nudged open the bathroom door and after he’d made a cursory check for occupants, he turned. On the opposite side of the room, Kit was opening the closet door, but she’d barely turned the handle before the door burst open. A man barreled out and the artificial light glinted across as blade as it slashed wildly through the air.

  Nash bit out a curse then ran to Kit’s aid, but before he reached her, she let out a yelp of pain. Nash saw red. He charged the man, slamming him back against the closet door. At the same time, he made a grab for the arm that held the knife and twisted it, then slammed that, too, against the door. The man grunted but kept on fighting. He was stronger than he looked, but he was no match for a shifter, and certainly not a pissed off one defending his teammate. He drew back the attacker’s knife hand and slammed it one more time against the door, squeezing the hand as he did, and with a gasp of pain, the man’s fingers opened around the hilt and the blade fell to the ground. Nash kicked it away, then slammed the man into the door again for good measure before spinning him around and securing his hands behind his back.

  “You okay?” he asked, turning to look at Kit over his shoulder.

  But she looked far from okay.

  Her face was sheet-white, and she had her hand over her right hip. It was covered in blood.

  “Jesus Christ, Kit!”

  “I’m okay,” she bit out. “Probably just a graze.”

  But it wasn’t, and they both knew it. The coppery scent of blood was thick in the air, far stronger than it would have been for a graze. The asshole had got her good.

  Guilt lanced through Nash. This was on him.

  On every operation, the first thing he did when he entered a room was use his impeccable hearing skills to listen for any hostiles. But he hadn’t this time. He’d been too distracted, too afraid to use his shifter senses because to do that, he had to let his bear close to the surface. And ever since he’d met his mate—and walked away—he was terrified that if he gave his animal side even the smallest amount of leeway, it would try to break free to go in search of Aria. And because of that fear, he hadn’t followed protocol, and hadn’t even had the balls to tell the rest of the team that he couldn’t.

  And now, Kit had been hurt. Because of him.

  “Do you think you can walk?” he asked.

  She nodded then attempted to walk toward the bedroom door. The grimace of pain on her face told Nash how much the movement had cost her. He wanted to reach out and support her weight, but the prisoner was still struggling and letting out a string of cuss words in Spanish that were mostly wasted on Nash. He gave him a shake, then shoved him toward the door.

  “Let me go out first,” Nash said to Kit, grabbing hold of the prisoner before he could make a break for it.

  Kit was in no condition to properly defend herself if she ran into another hostile, and they both knew it. She gave a curt nod then hung back while Nash pushed the man out into the hallway.

  “All clear,” Hawk said as soon as he set eyes on Nash. Then his eyes widened, and his nose twitched, and Nash knew his teammate was scenting Kit’s blood.

  “Is that…?”

  Nash nodded. “Kit’s been stabbed. She needs help.”

  Hawk’s jaw tightened and he shouldered past Nash and the perp to get into the bedroom. Nash sighed as he led the cuffed man outside. Flint would have every right to kick him off the team for this, and part of Nash hoped he would. He deserved it. If he couldn’t protect his teammates, then why was he even here? Their special skills were the reason they’d been picked in the first place. If Nash couldn’t be relied upon to use his shifter abilities, then what use was he to the team? Maybe it was for the best. If he couldn’t get his shit together, more of his team were going to get hurt, and he couldn’t stand to be responsible for that.

  Arresting the men at the house was only the beginning of the operation. There was another team waiting to go in and search the property after the SWAT team had vacated. Nash and the others took the men they’d arrested at the property back to the FBI base of operations on the outskirts of the city. From there, they would be interviewed so that the FBI could learn more about when and how they brought their cocaine into the city, and hopefully finally crack the gang they’d been chasing for months.

  Most of the men professed to speak no English, but Hawk was Mexican American so when he started conversing with them in fluent Spanish, they were all out of excuses.

  Kit was taken straight to their medical wing which was in the basement of the building near the parking lot. It was reserved exclusively for shifters. Not everyone who worked in the FBI was privy to the information that shifters not only existed, but lived and worked closely among humans, and it would probably freak out the regular med staff if their patients started healing from deadly wounds in a matter of hours. But there were some wounds even shifter healing couldn’t fix. Nash felt like a band was wound tight around his chest. If anything happened to his teammate…

  The entire team were with him in the messroom, waiting for news, when Flint strode in.

  “She’s fine,” he said, and a collective sigh reverberated around their small group. “She was stabbed in the upper thigh and the blade just missed her hip bone.”

  A lump rose in Nash’s throat, and he tried and failed to swallow it down. His fault. It was his fault.

  “The doctor has seen her and said there won’t be any lasting effects. He gave her some pain killers and…”

  Flint checked he wasn’t being overheard then added, “She’s shifted into her cat form to help her heal quicker. She was fast asleep when I looked in on her. There shouldn’t be any complications.”
br />   “Oh, thank God,” Hawk said. “Can I go and see her?”

  “I’d let her rest for an hour first,” Flint said.

  Hawk nodded.

  Flint turned then pinned Nash in place with a fiery stare. “Can I have a word?”

  He didn’t wait for a reply, just turned and headed back out of the room.

  As he walked past, Cole shot him a reassuring smile, but it had little effect. Nash knew he deserved whatever was about to come his way. He found his team leader waiting for him out in the corridor. Flint pushed open the door to one of the interview rooms then stood aside to let Nash go in before him. Nash walked into the room then took a seat on the chair that was usually reserved for the people they arrested. Fitting. Flint came in then closed the door behind him, shutting them in together.

  He sat down in the chair opposite Nash with a sigh. “Okay, tell me what happened in there.”

  Nash swallowed hard, and then went through the details of the operation in excruciating detail, omitting nothing. After he was finished talking, Flint frowned.

  “What about your abilities? Didn’t you use them when you entered the room?”

  Nash tugged at the top button on his shirt. It wasn’t the biggest of rooms and with two overly large shifters crammed into it, the temperature had already started creeping up. Plus, Flint ran hotter than most, even when he wasn’t interrogating someone.

  Nash stared down at his hands. “I’m trying not to use my abilities right now.”

  Flint frowned. “What the hell? Why not?”

  “You know I met my mate the other day.”

  Flint nodded. “Gray told me. I understand she’s married. I’m sorry. That must have come as one hell of a blow.”

  “It did. And, you see, my bear is ready to go hunt the man down and kill him, either that or find Aria and carry her off into the woods.”

  “And you’re afraid to let your animal side close to the surface in case you get all furry?”

  “Exactly.”