Chapter Six.

Wilbur walked into the nearly empty diner. He glanced around and then took a seat at the counter. Although Shott had told him to ask for Bill, Wilbur hesitated. Maybe Reno wouldn't find him here and Wilbur could enjoy a late-night dinner. Maybe he didn't have to bother Bill after all.

The jukebox was playing a song from the eighties, and the diner was pretty well lit. No one would try anything in a brightly lit diner, right? There was a menu on the counter in front of him. It was laminated and a bit sticky. Wilbur glanced over his choices and decided on something light.

A tall, well-built man ambled his way from a single wooden door that Wilbur guessed led to the kitchen. The man wore an apron riddled with food stains and a towel draped over his left shoulder. Wiry chest hairs peaked from under the man's collar, and his nose looked like it had been broken once or twice. He wasn't classically handsome, but ruggedly so.

"Are you Wilbur Castro?" the man asked as he set a glass of water in front of Wilbur.

Wilbur stiffened and glanced at the door, ready to bolt if this man came after him.

The guy smiled, all white teeth. "Calm down, little guy. Shott called me and told me you'd be coming through. He said you were in a bit of a pickle."

Wilbur snorted. "I'm swimming in a whole jar of them."

The man's laughter was loud and spirited. His blue eyes lit up like twinkling stars as he rested a beefy arm on the counter. "He also said that you were a character and that you and I would get along just fine."

"I don't want to be any trouble," Wilbur said as he sipped at his water. "I was on my way to visit my parents. I hadn't planned on things going bonkers."

"We never do. But life seems to happen," Bill said. "Besides, I could use some excitement around here."

"Then you can have all of it," Wilbur said. "I don't think my heart can take any more excitement."

"Nah, you're fine. Excitement keeps the old ticker ticking. Sometimes you need the exhilaration. It'll keep you young, and you meet some interesting people along the way." Bill winked at him. "Now what can I get for you?"

Wilbur liked this guy. Bill reminded him of a big bear, but a gentle one. The guy was definitely easy to talk to. Wilbur was definitely meeting interesting people. He just wasn't sure those people were good for his health. They were dangerous men after all. But that fact only made Wilbur feel like a bad boy himself. He inwardly snickered at the thought. Him, a bad boy? Nah.

"Do you have anything that doesn't involve carbs?" Everything on the menu looked good, but fattening. Wilbur had struggled with his weight his entire life. No matter how much he exercised or watched what he ate, he always had a good thirty pounds to shed. He came from a big-boned family, where the genetics had been against him from day one. Nonetheless, Wilbur always tried to eat healthy and hit the gym at least three times a week.

Bill's eyes traveled over Wilbur before he shook his head. "Please don't tell me you're on a diet. I don't see where you need to lose it."

Aw, wasn't Bill such a nice guy? Wilbur appreciated the compliment. It made him blush a bit before he took another sip of his water. With his ego caressed, he said, "Just trying to stay fit."

"Nothing wrong with that," Bill said, his eyes still straying over Wilbur's form. "I wouldn't mind asking you out, but from what I hear, you're already spoken for." The man shook his head. "That's too bad. I would've treated you like my little king."

Wilbur was at a loss for words. No one had ever spoken to him like that. He took every word Bill said to him as a compliment. And then Wilbur blinked and shook his head. "Wait a minute. Who said I was spoken for?"

The owner winked at him. "Stripper laid his claim on you. Wish I had gotten to you first. You're one sexy-ass man."

Wilbur was going to melt into his chair with all the compliments Bill was handing out. Was he always this forward with his customers? Wilbur liked to think not. But he knew he was fooling himself. Bill was just being nice.

"I'll hook you up with one of my specials," Bill said before he walked back into the kitchen. Wilbur stared at the kitchen door, and then a small smile worked across his face. In his normal life, Wilbur was pretty much ignored. Men didn't look at him as if he were delicious eye candy. But Stripper had. And so had Bill. Even Shott was nice to him.

There were three other accountants in the office where Wilbur worked. Two of them were nice-looking guys. But they had acted as if they were too good to talk to Wilbur. There was a law office on the second floor of the building Wilbur worked in. Some of those lawyers were hot. But none of them gave him the time of day. Wilbur wasn't sure what the people on the third floor did. From what he'd heard, they dealt with stock market trades. The fourth floor held a modeling studio.

Now those guys were drop-dead gorgeous. Wilbur had often taken his breaks in the lobby just so he could drool over the men who came and went. He had often fantasized about being one of those models, about being tall and slender and sought after for his looks.

He sighed as he glanced around the diner. There was a trucker sitting at one of the booths, eating. There was another guy at another booth, sipping a cup of coffee as he texted on his phone. The second guy reminded Wilbur of the traveler, weary, just ready to get home. Wilbur knew the feeling.

He no longer wanted to visit his parents. All Wilbur wanted to do was take a hot shower and sleep in his own bed. He missed his goldfish, Harry.

Bill walked out of the swinging door with a plate in his hand and a smile on his face. The apron was gone, and Wilbur noticed that the man had combed his hair. Wilbur suppressed the smile as Bill set the plate in front of him. Musky cologne filled the air. Maybe Bill really thought Wilbur handsome. The guy seemed to have freshened up.

"Let me know how that tastes," Bill said before he walked to a fridge and grabbed a container of orange juice. Wilbur looked down at his plate to see egg whites, spinach, and some sort of white cheese. The food looked delicious. He took a bite and moaned when the feta cheese melted in his mouth.

Bill poured a glass of orange juice and then took a long sip. "You keep sounding like that and I'll forget that Stripper has his sights set on you."

Wilbur gave a small laugh. "Are you always this flirtatious?"

"Only when I see a really hot guy," Bill answered. He smiled and then added, "Just so you know, if Stripper ever slips up, I'll be waiting in the wings."

The guy was too much. Wilbur was really enjoying himself. It wasn't often a handsome man flirted with him. Wilbur was soaking it up. He had no intention of doing anything with Bill, but the attention was nice.

"Can I get a lemon for my water?" Wilbur asked.

"Honey, you can get anything you want." Bill walked back into the kitchen. Wilbur could only shake his head. If he hadn't already met Stripper, he might have considered Bill's offer. But Wilbur already knew where his interests lay. He had been obsessing over Stripper all week. He couldn't get the man out of his mind or stop sniffing the guy's dang shirt. It was as if he was obsessed with Stripper.

Wilbur wasn't sure what Shott would do once the man showed up. Would Shott take him somewhere to hide out? Would he give Wilbur a bodyguard? Would Wilbur be charged for a bodyguard? Maybe he should've asked.

Wilbur frowned when Bill didn't come back out from the kitchen. He glanced around the diner to see the truck driver was gone. There was money lying on the table, and he heard the man's truck starting up. The traveler got up and walked to the men's room. The diner was empty.

Scooting from his seat, Wilbur ventured toward the kitchen. He didn't think Bill would mind if he went back there. Easing the door open, Wilbur walked in. The kitchen was neat and orderly, and he could hear dishwasher going. But Bill was nowhere in sight.

"Hello?" Wilbur was getting a bad feeling. He twisted his hands in front of him and walked farther into the kitchen. He noticed the door toward the back. Bill's office? Wilbur walked into the office and gasped when he saw Bill lying on the floor, his eyes closed.

"Hello, Mr. Castro."

Wilbur spun to see his look-alike standing behind him.

"It seems our identities have been mixed up," Reno said. "Which gave me a brilliant plan." The man shoved the gun into Wilbur's side. "I could take over your life, and no one would be the wiser. I could finish what I started as Wilbur Castro."

It had been a long ride, and Stripper grew more anxious the closer they drove to their destination. He had given Wilbur an entire week, and Stripper hadn't planned on waiting any longer. The man had seemed resolute about going home, about leaving Stripper behind. But Stripper was pretty damn sure that Wilbur was his mate. Never in his life had Stripper wanted a commitment, but in the past week, he had gone insane being separated from the human.

He'd bitten off everyone's head, tossed and turned at night, and had jacked off so many times to the memory of that kiss that his dick had friction burns. Whether Wilbur was ready or not, Stripper planned on claiming the man.

"How much farther?" he asked Shott.

Shott glared at him. "You've asked me that ten times in the past hour. The GPS on your phone works just as good as mine."

Stripper leaned sideways and stared at the odometer. He palmed his face.

"Don't even start," Shott warned. "I'm already going eighty-five in a sixty. If I get pulled over, you're paying the ticket."

Maybe it was good that Shott was driving. Stripper would be going one hundred right now. Wilbur was in trouble, and it seemed like it was taking forever to get to the human. Besides, Stripper knew how Bill was. The man was a pure horndog and would be all over Wilbur. Stripper wanted to throttle Shott for sending Wilbur to Bill. What had his friend been thinking?

Stripper's heart lodged in his throat when Shott finally exited the highway. He saw the sign for the diner ahead. Stripper was ready to jump from the truck even before Shott pulled into the parking lot. There were three cars sitting there, and Stripper recognized Wilbur's. The black sedan was parked under the streetlight.

As soon as Shott came to a stop, Stripper jumped out. His stomach knotted when he gazed into the large diner windows and saw that the place was empty. It shouldn't be empty.

Shott held up his hand. "Something's not right."

But Stripper didn't heed the man's warning. He was full of fire and brimstone and headed straight for the diner door. He walked into the air-conditioned interior and saw a man coming from the bathroom. Stripper gave the man a fleeting glance before he headed toward the kitchen. Shott was hot on his heels. As soon as they entered the kitchen, Stripper pulled his weapon. He wasn't getting a good feeling either.

He froze when he scented blood. His bear went crazy, snarling and trying to get free. Both men searched the kitchen before Stripper headed toward Bill's office.

His hand shook as he reached for the knob. Normally, Stripper was always calm and cool under pressure. He never shook, and he never hesitated. He was usually as solid as a rock. Stripper had interrogated many men in his time and had always remained resolved. He had served his time in Iraq, had seen battle, and had gone on many missions for Executive Bodyguards.

But nothing came close to the fear he felt at this very moment. He wasn't calm and was ready to beg fate to let Wilbur be okay. In just that short amount of time he'd spent with the human, Stripper had become enamored of the man. Never before had he considered having a family, but in the week that he'd spent apart from Wilbur, that was all Stripper had thought about.

His fingers tightened on the knob as he turned it. Shott was on the other side of the doorframe, weapon drawn. In one swift move, Stripper had the door open and both men were standing in Bill's office, their guns aimed. Stripper staggered sideways when his eyes settled on the two men lying on the floor.

He dropped to his knees and quickly checked Wilbur's pulse. Shott hurried over to Bill. There was barely a pulse in Wilbur's neck, but the man was alive. Stripper pulled his phone out and called for an ambulance. He looked over at Shott, but Shott shook his head, his features grim.

As Stripper talked to the emergency operator, he checked Wilbur for wounds. Wilbur had been shot once in the chest. Whoever had shot Stripper's mate had missed the heart, but another inch and Wilbur would have been dead.

Stripper didn't want to think about that. Couldn't think about that. He didn't want to entertain the idea that he might have never been able to touch Wilbur again, never taste him, never know the culmination of need that filled him every time he thought of his mate.

Stripper felt ice in his veins when he thought of the person who had done this. He was going to find the one responsible and make the man wish he'd never been born. It had to be Reno. Wilbur had said that Reno broke into his motel room. It couldn't be anyone else. He was going to find the cunning bastard and gut the man.

And although he and Bill had never been close, the man had been a good friend to Shott. The veteran didn't deserve an ending like this. Bill didn't deserve to be killed in his own fucking diner.

Reno wasn't going to see a jail cell. The man wouldn't survive long enough to see a trial.

Stripper ran his hands over Wilbur's short hair. He wanted to see the man's green eyes. What he wouldn't give to see Wilbur's shy smile and hear his witty humor.

Sirens filled the air, and soon the paramedics were making their way through the kitchen. As hard as it was for him to do, Stripper moved away from Wilbur so the medics could do their jobs.

Shott left the office to talk to the local cops. Stripper couldn't handle that right now. He wouldn't have the patience for questioning. Instead, he followed the paramedics out of the diner and hopped in the back of the ambulance. No one questioned him. No one asked who he was or why he was there.

Which was a good thing. Because Stripper was not going to be separated from Wilbur again. He was now permanently tied to the human's hip.

It didn't take long for them to make it to the local hospital. Stripper followed the stretcher but was stopped outside of the operating room. The nurse gave him a compassionate smile as she said, "There's a waiting room off to the right. We'll let you know how he's doing after we've assessed him and the doctor has performed the surgery."

Curling his hands into fists, Stripper nodded. He walked to the waiting area and pulled out his phone, calling home.

Chapter Seven.

T-Rex answered his phone on the second ring. He had been awake when Shott and Stripper had taken off. For as long as T-Rex could remember, he had always been a night owl. Even in the service, he could work off of a few hours of sleep. That still held true. He was now part ranch owner and still burned the midnight oil but could still be up at the crack of dawn and ready to start his day. Although he was the oldest man in his unit, T-Rex seemed to operate on a different level.

"How are things going?" T-Rex asked when he answered the phone. "Did you guys find Wilbur?" He glanced out of the kitchen window, looking over the ranch as dawn began to break. T-Rex would never tire of the sight. The white-capped mountains, the sprawling ranch, or the ranch hands who were beginning the day. The Big Bear Ranch was prospering, and T-Rex had fallen in love with the place. He'd learned how to work the ranch and loved every part of the job.

He'd grown up in a strict but loving family. He had always been a city boy who had fallen in love with the countryside. There was something about the fresh air and open spaces that appealed to him on every level.

Growing up in the city, T-Rex had learned how to handle himself on the streets. The military had only sharpened those skills. He'd always followed a strict set of rules, and those rules had saved his life more than once. Some of the team accused him of being insensitive but he had just as much compassion as the other men around him. T-Rex was just better at hiding it. He had to. He was their leader, and he always had to keep a cool head at all times.

"That son of a bitch shot Wilbur," Stripper said.

T-Rex stood there and listened as Stripper talked. His jaw clenched when he heard that Bill was dead. Reno needed to be stopped. As Stripper continued to talk, T-Rex left the kitchen. He found Sam and Legend in the living room. He snapped his fingers and waved for them to follow him.

"We're on our way," T-Rex said as he hung up the phone. He explained to Sam and Legend what had taken place. "Colton can stay here with the mates and children."

Colton had joined them by then and nodded. "We've got too many ranch hands around here who are bear shifters. Reno won't be coming near this place." The man's tone was lethal.

T-Rex went to the weapons room and gathered a few rifles, handguns, and ammo before heading to his truck. If Reno tried anything, T-Rex would blow the man's head off. He was sick of the guy's game and was ready to end this.

He waited for Sam and Legend to join him. The sun began to rise and so did T-Rex's temper. He hadn't meant to get an innocent man involved. It had been a case of mistaken identity. But somehow Reno had figured that out, and T-Rex had a feeling the man was trying to take over Wilbur's life. But T-Rex would end Reno's before he let that happen.

The three men were soon on the road, heading toward Stark County Hospital.

Stripper jerked from his chair when the doctor walked into the waiting room. T-Rex, Legend, and Sam had shown up just ten minutes before. All five men gathered around for Wilbur's prognosis.

"Your husband is one lucky man," the doctor said to Stripper. Stripper didn't bat an eye at the lie he had told the nurse. He wanted full rights to Wilbur's care, and the only way he was going to get that was to claim he was Wilbur's husband. It was true, in a sense. Shifters didn't marry. They mated, although he'd heard how Harland-a shifter over at the Triple-B Ranch-had married his mate.

That was an exception, not the rule. And since Stripper was almost positive that Wilbur was his mate, he hadn't lied.

"Another millimeter and Wilbur wouldn't have been so lucky," the doctor continued. "With that said, Wilbur is going to need extensive care. The bullet did tear one of the main vessels leading to the heart. It's a miracle he didn't bleed out. I repaired the tear, but it's left the valve weakened."

"What does that mean?" Stripper was trying to grasp what the doctor was saying, but his head was spinning from the fact that Wilbur should be dead but wasn't. He was thankful beyond words but still terrified what all of this meant.

"He'll need regular checkups and will have to avoid as much stress as possible. Over time the valve should become stronger, but for now, in layman's terms, treat him like spun glass."

Stripper fell into a chair, rubbing his hands over his face to hide the tears that threatened to fall. The stress, the worry, the fears, and the anger were coming to a head, and Stripper felt his foundation cracking.

The doctor touched his shoulder. When Stripper looked up, the man gave him a warm smile. "He's in ICU. You can go back to see him."

Stripper cleared his throat a few times before he nodded and stood. He followed the doctor back and was led to Wilbur's room.

"Let the nurses know if you need anything," the doctor said before he walked away.

Stripper stood on the threshold and stared into the room. Wilbur lay there, unconscious, with a tube running from his mouth. There was an IV in his arm and wires leading from his body to a machine. The beeping sounds echoed in the otherwise silent room. Stripper closed the door behind him and leaned against it, trying to pull himself together. He blinked back more tears as he thought about the doctor's warning. No stress. Which meant Wilbur wouldn't be able to carry a child right now. As badly as Stripper wanted one, Wilbur came first.

His mate was alive, and that's all that mattered to Stripper. He thought about how his mother had miscarried three times before giving birth to him. But in bringing Stripper to full term, she had hemorrhaged during her delivery. He had grown up never knowing her, hearing only stories from his father of how gentle and beautiful she had been. She'd sacrificed her own life in order to bring Stripper into this world.