by SL
editor had grinned at her over his chaotic-looking desk.
"Thanks." She'd blushed, recalling her most recent story about a
'haunted' pirate ship. She hadn't found anything 'ghostly' about the
ship. No phantoms – just a few squeaky boards and cold air that
leaked in through the narrow wooden planks. But, being a creative
writer, she'd managed to squeeze out a story on the ship based on its
infamous history.
"That's why I want you to take this story in Heather Grove. Our
contact has claimed it's a town with a dark, supernatural secret. I
think it would be right up your alley."
"Up my alley, huh?" Jac raised an eyebrow in his direction. "I
guess you're right. I have enjoyed writing articles with the
supernatural slant, so a haunted town might be interesting."
"Oh, it's not haunted," Frank corrected. "Our contact says the
town's run by a pack of werewolves."
"Werewolves? Ah shit, Frank, what the hell do you mean
werewolves?" Jac rolled her eyes. "This is the twenty-first century!
What kind of moron told you that bullshit?"
Frank chuckled. "That moron has forwarded some information to
my email that is quite interesting. So, I figured I'd send you out there
to investigate and come back with a dynamite story for The Inside-
View. Besides, this could be your shot at getting a full time position
here, Jac."
Jac eyed the man with a thin smile, but her mind was spinning. A
full time position at the magazine? The offer was tempting. The
Inside-View's reputation as a premier magazine in the South East was
growing. For the last few months, Jac had been putting in the extra
hours, writing stories and editing copies with the hopes of a
permanent position with the magazine.
Jac's gut clutched. She'd had enough of journalism and its harsh
lifestyle. Lifestyle? Working for a 24/7 metropolitan newspaper
meant having no life. She knew that for a fact. She was ready for
something bigger, something better and The Inside-View fit the bill.
Writing articles for the magazine would give me more leisure time,
a steadier paycheck and maybe a chance to write a novel, she thought.
It could be the answer to her dilemma.
"Oh, all right. You got me, Frank," she sighed and took the
assignment folder from her editor's extended hand. "So, when's my
deadline?"
The next thing Jac knew she was on the highway, heading for a
remote Southern town. Turning off the interstate, she proceeded
down a narrow strip of road, passing a green sign which read 'Heather
Grove 3 miles'. She sighed with relief, knowing she wasn't far from
her destination.
From what little information she'd found out on Heather Grove, the
town was founded by the descendants of several Scottish clans in the
eighteenth century. This captured her interest since her mother's side
of the family traced their linage back to the Highlands of Scotland.
However, the whole idea of a 'werewolf' story was ludicrous, but
Jac figured she'd be able to creatively piece together a story based on
the town's history and a few anecdotes from the townsfolk. Anything
to meet her deadline and nail down the full time job offer that Frank
was dangling over her head.
"That sneaky bastard," Jac grumbled. "He has some nerve to – Oh
my God!"
A large blurry object shot out in front of her car. Startled, Jac
slammed on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel. The
Volkswagen careened off the asphalt and skidded, landing in a ditch
with a resounding crunch.
Time stood still. Jac's heart pounded against her ribs as she
struggled to calm her jangled nerves. "Shit, shit, shit!" she cursed,
slowly reaching into the floorboard of the Volkswagen to retrieve her
tossed bag. Thankfully, her laptop case was well-padded. She only
prayed her cell phone was still working.
Drawing a deep breath, she flipped open the uber-thin phone and,
with trembling fingers, dialed 911.
* * * *
A loud crack drew Ray McShaw's attention over to the other side of
the bar. Balls scattered over the green felt. Rhonda Morrison drew
away from the table with a smug smile on her face and a pool cue in
her hand.
Ray chuckled. Surely everyone who hung around The Red Lion
knew she was an ace. Fat chance! There was always one in the crowd
who thought he could beat her. Ray shook his head in disbelief,
drawing a frosty mug of beer to his lips.
"You're going to have to let someone win one day," he'd joked with
her earlier over a plate of fresh, hot fries from the bar's kitchen.
"Are you trying to spoil my fun, Ray?" she asked, her mouth
twisting into a playful pout.
"Crushing a guy's ego's no way to win a guy over, Ron."
"Heck, the guys around here are chumps!" Rhonda exclaimed, then
narrowed her gaze. "Besides, the good ones are taken ... or not even
looking."
Ouch! Her well-targeted jibe had hit the mark. "Now, don't you
start on me, too. Is that all you women think about?" Ray speared a
hand through his thick, dark hair in frustration. "Just because Megan's
got her a mate, that doesn't mean Ritchie and I have to settle down, ya
know?"
Rhonda gave an exasperated sigh, then went silent as she continued
munching on the plate of fries. Deep down, Ray knew she meant
well. However, he and his twin brother, Ritchie, were appointed
guardians and protectors of their pack. The sithech blood coursed
strongly in their veins ... the blood of the wolf.
Since their father's death a few years before, Ray had taken his
place on the pack council. He was more serious about pack affairs
than his twin, who'd rather spend time out of town. Heather Grove
was too confining for Ritchie, but Ray loved his hometown and his
sithech kin. He would do anything to keep them safe ... even if it
meant having to firmly lay down pack law.
Recently, Ray had done his duty and, along with the council, had
removed Jerry MacDonald from his seat, lowering the jerk's status
within the pack. Hell, MacDonald was lucky that Ray hadn't killed
him for attacking Derek Lee and his little sister, Megan, on
Halloween. Damn lucky.
But Ray had heart and saw to it that MacDonald was sent to the
hospital down in Columbia to receive extra medical and mental
attention. However, there had been no word from the doctors about
how long MacDonald would be under their specialized care.
"The place is pretty crowded tonight, Jim," Ray yelled over the bar
to his friend, Jim Douglas, making himself heard over the loud music.
"Yep, considering the weatherman's storm warnings, we're doing
fair." Jim shrugged his big shoulders, wiping dry another beer mug.
"Can I get ya another beer?"
"No, I'm heading back to the house. This cold goes straight through
to my bones. All I need is a hot shower and a warm bed." He winked.
"Warm bed, huh? Anyone I know?" Jim flashed him a feral grin.
"That's not what I meant." Ray shook his head. "The full moon's
coming and all you wolf-hounds can think of is s-e-x ... sex," he
quipped. "But I'd rather you fellas fuck yourselves silly than lose your
cool and tear up the town."
Jim laughed at his departing comment as Ray said his 'goodbyes'
around the bar. His gaze met Rhonda's over at the pool table. Giving
her a quick nod, Ray turned and headed out the door.
The silvery moonlight made the frosted ground glisten beneath his
cowboy boots. He tromped through the parking lot to his black 1966
Chevy pickup. She was a classic, in need of some exterior repair, but
under her hood was some haul-ass, raw power. Ray slid behind the
wheel and turned the key. The engine roared to life.
As he waited for her to warm up, Ray gazed through the windshield
at the faint light shining out through the heavily clouded night sky.
The moon reminded him of a woman ... cool and very unpredictable.
The irony made him chuckle.
The lunar effects on the sithech were truly the stuff of folktales and,
now, urban legends. Those with wolf-blood experienced a heightened
sense of aggression or arousal during the full moon phase. As pack
guardian, he'd have to dispel his own bouts with moon fever. Yet he
could already feel its silvery caress in his veins. Ray cursed under his
breath.
The February moon was gaining strength every night as is swelled
to fullness. Ray understood too well the unpredictability of the moon.
He also knew to be prepared for anything to happen.
Buzz! Buzz!
Ray reached down, unclipping the cell phone from his hip and
flipped it open.
"Yeah?"
"Hey Ray, did I catch you at a bad time?" It was Ernie Campbell,
one of the pack's town hall connections and 24/7 computer geek.
"No, man. Just heading home from the Lion. What's up?"
There was silence on the other end for a moment. Ray's stomach
rumbled with nerves. His sithech senses flared with sudden alertness.
"What's up?" he repeated, slowly.
"Uh, we might have some trouble here." Ernie's thin voice quivered
through the receiver. "Someone's been trying to hack the uh,
computer database."
"Trying? Did they succeed?" Ray asked, leaning back against the
truck's head rest and closed his eyes, pulling his focus inward. The
only drawback about using cell phones was the inability to say too
much about pack-related matters.
"Hmm, not sure yet. I can let you know something by morning,"
Ernie replied. Even through the thin receiver, Ray could hear his
friend clacking away on the keyboard.
"Why don't we meet for breakfast in the morning at the diner?
Then, you can tell me what you've found out. Okay?" Ray could
almost see Ernie in his mind's eye hunched over his computer with his
curly red hair sticking out in disarray. Under any other circumstances,
he would've laughed, but his senses told him this was no laughing
matter.
"Yeah, I copy that. Tomorrow morning at the diner. I should have
something for you on it," Ernie confirmed. "Sorry to bother ya.
Later."
The phone snapped off. Ray gave a deep sigh, returning the phone
to his hip. Damn, if it wasn't one fire to put out, it was another. But,
that was his job, his life's calling. Times may have changed since his
forefathers had assumed the mantle as pack guardians, but his duty
was the same – to protect the sithech, no matter what the cost.
CHAPTER 2
Jac was shivering, not from the accident, but from the below thirty
degree temperature. The police officer had offered to let her stay
warm in his car, but she'd declined. Sometimes she wished she wasn't
so stubborn, but she'd wanted to watch as the police and the wrecker
service took care of her crunched up little Volkswagen.
Snuggling deeper into her fur coat, Jac gave a heavy sigh. This
incident might put a snag on her deadline for the magazine. But, then
again, having a portable laptop with WiFi connection, she figured
she'd just email her editor the story when she was finished. Jac was
deep in a mental daze when the officer returned.
"Homer's set to go. He'll take good care of your car," he reassured
her with a smile. "Now, let me get one more thing straight for my
report, Miss Hamilton –
"That's Ms. Hamilton," Jac quickly corrected him.
Even though it was dark, she could have sworn she saw the officer
blush.
"Sorry, ma'am," he apologized, then continued. "So, you say a big
animal crossed in front of your vehicle?"
"Yes, that's right. It looked like a big dog."
"A big dog, huh? Do you think it could possibly be a deer?"
"No, it wasn't a deer." Jac shook her head. "I'm sure about it."
"There are lots of deer around here, Ms. Hamilton. You might not
have been paying attention."
"But, officer, I was paying attention since I wasn't familiar with the
road." Jac felt her temper boiling inside her, warming her from the
inside out. But she did her best to play it cool with the policeman. "I
know it was not a deer because it ran across the road like a big dog. A
fast, big dog."
"Thanks, ma'am. I'll put that in my report," the officer replied with
a tight smile.
The low rumble of an engine at her back drew her attention. Jac
glanced over her shoulder to see an older model black truck pull up
behind the squad car.
"Excuse me a moment," the officer muttered with a polite nod, then
headed over to the truck.
Jac returned her attention to the wrecker. The Volkswagen was
strapped onto the metal bed and was ready to go. Whatever I make on
this story will have to go toward the auto bills. Damn that dog! Jac
grimly mused through clenched teeth as the service man approached
with a clipboard to take her information.
After she was done, she signed on the dotted line. The man handed
her a business card.
"Now, come by tomorrow and I'll have my mechanic give you a
good estimate on your Bug, little lady. Derek's the best in town. He'll
do ya right." The older man grinned.
Little lady? This town's right out of the stone ages, Jac thought, but
managed a smile as she thanked him.
"Bruce'll see ya into town. You best get inside and get yourself
warm." The man winked, then headed back to the wrecker.
"Bruce?" she mused out loud. Heather Grove was a real
'Mayberry'. Everyone knew everyone else on a first name basis. Jac
let out an exasperated sigh and swung her laptop bag over her
shoulder.
The police officer was returning, but he had a friend in tow.
Walking along beside him was a tall, dark stranger who moved like a
symphony in motion. Jac's heart did a nervous flip. Holy moly! For
the first time this evening, she felt her frozen lips curl into a real
smile. The stranger was definitely eye-candy. Yum!
He looked a tad bit over six feet in his cowboy boots. Despite his
tall frame, he walked with the agility of an athlete. Jac swallow hard.
He was wearing a flannel shirt with dark blue jeans and nothing more
th
an a windbreaker jacket that flapped as he matched the officer's big
strides.
The two men stopped, towering over her. "This is my buddy, Ray
McShaw," the policeman nodded to the other man. "I have some
business to attend to, but he'll make sure you get to Pete's place with
no problem."
"Pete's place?" Jac inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"Bruce means The Starlight Motel. That is where you're staying,
right, ma'am?" The tall, dark man's voice was as sexy as he appeared.
Stunned, Jac slowly nodded. How did they know where she was
staying?
"It's the only hotel in town," Ray assured her unspoken question.
"We deduced you're just visiting, otherwise you'd have more
luggage."
Jac glanced down at her lone suitcase. "Yes, I travel light."
Before she could reach for it, Ray grasped the handle. "Please,
allow me." His grin sent a lusty, heated wave of desire through her
frigid body. Now that he was closer, Jac got a better look at the
policeman's buddy.
Ray had dark, wavy hair with a hint of gray brushing his temples.
His features were chiseled, all masculine and well-defined. His
mouth, however, looked both expressive and lush ... very kissable.
Jac drew a deep breath to clear her head. For the last few years she'd
been so buried in her writing, she'd been avoiding the opposite sex.
"How am I supposed to have a decent career when I get involved
with a man?" she recalled asking her roommate. "It just can't be done
... no way, no how." Her roommate had said she was crazy. And,
maybe, she was.
"Wow, it's refreshing to see a gal that doesn't try to pack several
suitcases full of stuff."
"Oh really?" Jac didn't know if he was serious or if he was just
kidding. "Why's that?"
"My sister packed three suitcases for her honeymoon last month.
Three. Can you imagine? I swear, that gal's got a screw loose." He
chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.
Jac smiled. His sense of humor just added a few more points to his
score.
Bruce was already in his patrol car as she and Ray headed for the
black truck. "I'll pop your bags in the bed here and we'll be off. You
look like a frozen popsicle."
She frowned at his analogy. "Well, the weather website didn't state
that Heather Grove was expecting such miserable weather for my
trip."