Fergus - An Irish Mafia Shifter (Boston Bear Brothers 1)

Eimear glared at him, slowly chewing her burger and wishing she could somehow make him disappear. She had been wrong to think he was an improvement over the first one. She stopped talking and just ate the food he had brought, sipping slowly on the drink he’d sat beside her on a small table so that the bathroom situation didn’t get any worse.

Hopefully, Ciaron would get her out of here soon. If what they said was true, she would not be marrying him, but she’d not turn down the assistance in getting her away from these muscled-up goons. She took her time eating, not taking her eyes off of this one. It was more to annoy him than anything, despite not knowing if that was such a great idea. She didn’t miss the sound of tires on gravel outside but tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed.

Any hopes of discovery or rescue were quickly dashed as the one who called himself Fergus came charging in, barking out orders to the two men with him and the one watching her eat. He looked angry and annoyed, which wasn’t exactly good news for her. She put the last of her burger aside, her appetite now gone.

“Get her gagged and bagged. We’re rollin,” he ordered.

“Wait. No. Do we have to put that gag back in?” she protested, hoping for some sympathy.

He looked at her as if to let her know he heard her but didn’t care. Instead, the other one did as he asked, cutting her free of the chair, but leaving the bindings around her appendages and hauling her to her feet. He half dragged, half walked her across the room in the direction of the doors she had been scoping out each time she caught him looking away from her. She could hear them being pushed open and then she was outside, a light sprinkle falling on her bare arms as the cool breeze blew across her face.

“Put her in the back of the van. We’re taking her to the clubhouse.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” one of the younger-looking two asked. She couldn’t be sure which one just from their voices, but they had the same faint Irish brogue as the others. She was sure they were all brothers, or cousins, at the least.

“No choice. They tracked us and are on their way. We’ve got to get her out of here.”

Eimear felt a slight hope. So, Ciaron was coming for her after all. Someone lifted her and put her down with a loud thud on the rough carpet of the van. She left out a loud groan but was sure her attempt at complaint was of no consequence to these brutes.

“The auld fella won’t be happy,” she heard one of them comment as the sounds of the doors clanking shut came from behind her and what light she could perceive through the heavy burlap was extinguished. Their voices were now muted. She couldn’t make out what they were saying through the heavy doors, but she could make out the sound of tires on pavement again. Ciaron! He was there, or whoever he sent was there. It didn’t much matter to her at this point, as long as they got her away from these animals.

Now, there was shouting, but it was still not loud enough for her to make out over the low rumble of the van’s engine that someone had started. There was a loud thud against the side of the van and the distinct sound of gunshots, then what sounded like men talking again. Who was it? Was it over this fast? She could only hope that whoever opened those back doors did so with the intention of taking her home.CHAPTER SEVENFergus

“What the fuck?” the man muttered, his gun now hanging limp in his hand as he stared in disbelief.

Fergus had been left no choice but to change. One of the bastards had taken out his Glock and shot him before he could react. Not only did he need his bear to help it heal before it weakened his human side too much, but he had lost his patience with this bunch already. There would be no talking to them. They came to do their master’s dirty business, which was to take everyone out and bring their princess home.

His brothers didn’t wait, all shifting beside him. Before the men could process what was happening, four large ginger-colored bears were descending on them. One of them got off a shot, but it was aimed toward the van and only left a bullet hole up by the front door. Their boss was going to be really pissed off if this bag of dicks bollixed the whole rescue by shooting their damsel in distress on accident.

It wasn’t much of a fight, which is why they didn’t do it often. The half dozen men Ciaron Doyle had sent to dispatch him and his brothers were no match for four bears considerably larger than a full-grown Kodiak. By the time they could wrap their minds around the fact that the men they were after had shifted into actual bears right in front of them, it was too late.