The thought caught him so off guard, he shook his head.
“Not yet then.” She nodded.
So she knew a little bit about the system. Repeat offender most likely. Really not anyone he needed to know outside of these walls. He’d keep the fact that they were checking her prints against the national database to himself for the moment. “You want to tell me what happened?”
“I’m sure you read the report. I hit him.”
“Why?”
She flicked her gaze to him. Her big brown eyes held no remorse. “You really care?”
“Humor me.”
She swung her long legs down, planted her feet on the floor and leaned back, her hands on the edge of the cot. “He got handsy with his girlfriend. Knocked her down. I told him not to do it again. He didn’t listen.” She shrugged. “I decided to teach him a lesson since no one else in his life had.”
Hank frowned. He probably would have done the same thing. And left the same amount of bruising. She had to be shifter. Or some kind of supernatural. He inhaled, but the smell of shifter was everywhere in the station with himself, Deputy Cruz and Birdie being here all the time. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” With a smirk, she lay down on the cot and returned to inspecting her nails.
Hank went back to his office to start the paperwork on her charges. His inbox chimed as he sat down. He pulled up the message from Clemens Kincaid with the subject line, Your new wife, and opened it, scrolling down to the attached picture. He stared in disbelief, a growl building in his throat. “Hell no. This is the woman I’m supposed to marry?”
“What was that, Hank?” Birdie called out.
“Nothing. And you can cancel the IAFIS search. I already know who she is.” He ran a quick background search, printed out the info and tucked it into a file, then marched back to cell number three and glared at the woman inside it. Flirting with bad girls was one thing.
Marrying one was another.
Anger made his jaw tight. “You’re Ivy Kincaid.”
Her smile dropped and the slightest hint of fear played through her smoky eyes before she dropped her gaze and straightened upright on the cot. “And you’re Hank Merrow.”
Was she afraid of him? He hadn’t expected that. But then, their packs had been enemies since well before either of them was born. Afraid was probably an understatement.
She must be terrified of him. Of what he might do to her. She was being offered to him like a piece of property, all to firm up a deal. Knowing her father, she’d probably had less say about this than he did.
That took the sizzle out of his shock. She had no more to do with this than the man in the moon. With a heavy sigh, he lifted the keys from his belt and unlocked the cell. “Let’s go to my office.”
Hank Merrow was gorgeous. Not average good-looking, not handsome at the right angle, not all right with dim lighting. Gorgeous. Which was both a blessing and a curse. He was the kind of hot that gave a woman wicked thoughts and sucked the sense out of her head. Ivy tried not to fidget in the wooden chair across from his desk, but parts of her were getting uncomfortably warm.
She tried to remind herself that Hank Merrow, while still the enemy and a complete question mark, might also turn out to be her salvation. It was a helluva shot, but once her father had told her she’d be marrying a Merrow to seal the new treaty, she’d decided to think positively. To make the most of this new situation. To believe that life really could get better.
Because the alternative was unthinkable. And this certainly couldn’t be worse.
Hank’s lips were moving.
She leaned forward. “What?”
“I said how long have you been in town?”
“Oh, uh, just since last night.”
“First night in town and you get drunk, start a fight and end up arrested? What do you plan on doing for an encore?”
She crossed her arms. So he was a hard ass. She’d had a lot of practice dealing with those. “I wasn’t drunk. I’d had two beers. And I didn’t really start that fight—”
“You already told me you hit him.” He opened a file and read. “And I quote, ‘Then I punched him.’”
“Look, I know what I said, but the guy was a creep and he deserved it. I told you what happened. He was roughing up his girlfriend.”
Hank stared at her, his blue eyes stupidly mesmerizing. He must really be something in full wolf form. Finally he blew out a breath. “I’ll talk him into dropping the charges.”
“You will? Thank you. I guess you don’t want your fiancée to have an arrest record, huh?” She smiled hopefully.
“Did you think I wouldn’t check up on you?” He flipped to a new page in the file. “You already have one. And don’t use that word.”
“What word?” She knew perfectly well what word he meant. She just wanted him to say it so he’d get used to the idea.
“Fiancée.”
The way he grimaced when he said it almost made her snort. “Don’t worry. You only have to call me that for three more days.”
He frowned. “Why’s that?”
“Because after that I’ll be your wife.”
His frown deepened.
She settled into the chair a little more then pointed at the file. “That arrest was for protesting the use of a rather controversial pesticide in Smoky Mountains National Park.”
He grunted. “You’re a tree hugger?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Have you ever run through that park?”
“The Georgia Pack hasn’t been allowed access to that park since—”
She held her hand up. “Right, sorry. I forgot about the edict.” Her father had declared the park off limits to anyone who wasn’t a registered member of the Tennessee Pack. “But I can tell you it’s beautiful. The kind of place that makes you forget your troubles and makes you glad to be a shifter. Completely spectacular. And the Army Corp of Engineers was going to bombard the place with a pesticide that would kill off this little black beetle that sometimes infests the trees. I’m all for saving trees, but that pesticide had the potential to kill off some of the other native species…birds, fish, you name it.”
He squinted. “You’d rather the beetle lived and the trees died?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “But there was a safer solution.”
“Such as?”
“Increasing the population of woodpeckers in the area. You know, set up a breeding program, that kind of thing.”
“Uh huh.” He flipped to another page. “And the grand theft auto?”
“I was eighteen and only along for the ride. My biggest crime was a bad choice in male companionship. Besides, that charge got pleaded down to unauthorized use of a motor vehicle. Which is a misdemeanor, in case you didn’t know.”
“I did know, thanks.”
The slight sarcasm in his tone frustrated her. “Dude, I was eighteen. Didn’t you ever do anything stupid when you were eighteen?”
A cloud of emotion flickered in his gaze for a hot second, then it was gone. “No.” He closed the file. “Where are you staying?”
“The holding cell is pretty comfortable.”
“I’m serious. Where are you staying?”
“Don’t know yet. Got any recommendations?”
His eyes narrowed. “How much can you afford?”
“Something between bench in the park and youth hostel.” It would be funny if it wasn’t true.
He sighed. “I have a guest room. You can stay with me. We need to get to know each other anyway.”
Since her father had sent her here with very little money and a threat hanging over her head, she’d take it. She had no choice. Not until the marriage was official. After that, she was getting Charlie back and the two of them were getting away from anyone who knew the name Kincaid. They’d have their fresh start and a chance to live their lives anyway they wanted to. “No monkey business. We may be getting married, but I don’t know you from a hole in the ground. I’m not just goi
ng to jump into bed with you because—”
He held up his hand. “That’s the last thing on my mind, I promise you.”
She smiled, knowing it was in her best interests to be as charming and likable as possible. Starting now. “In that case, it’s so gentlemanly of you to offer. You won’t even know I’m there.”
He snorted. “Somehow I doubt that.”
Birdie stared at Hank like he’d grown a horn. She gave Ivy a quick, judgmental glance, then returned to Hank. “You’re leaving with her.”
Hank grunted. “I’ll explain later, Birdie. You know how to reach me.”
She shook her head. “But I don’t understand…”
Hank pointed Ivy toward the back door of the station. “Car’s that way.”
Ivy kept her mouth shut until he opened the door on the passenger’s side for her and she got in. “That’s a relief. For a second I thought I might have to ride in the back again.”
He gave her a look as he shut the door and went around to the driver’s side.
“Your receptionist isn’t going to be happy when my prints come back and she finds out I’m a Kincaid.”
He pulled out of the lot. “I’ll deal with my aunt.”
“She’s your aunt?” Ivy laughed. “Wow. I would not have figured that.”
“She’s a good woman. Just nosy. And terrible at her job.”
“I’m guessing it’s the family connection that keeps her there?”
He nodded.
She started to lift her feet like she was going to put them on the dash, then apparently thought better of it. “That’s how a lot of Kincaids keep their jobs, too.”
He glanced at her. “Like who?”
“Like my older brothers.”
“They pretty deep in your father’s pocket?”
She twisted to face him. “You asking me as a law man or my intended?”
“Just trying to learn more about the family I’m marrying into.”
She hesitated. “Yeah, they’re in deep. If they’d been arrested, my father would have just flown in and paid off whoever it took to get them out. Because that’s how Clemens Kincaid rolls when it comes to his boys. Speaking of, can we not let him know about this incident? Although I do need to tell him I’ve arrived.”
“I won’t bring it up if you don’t.” Hank glanced over at her. “And with you? How’s ol’ Clem roll with you?”
She stared forward, but that didn’t hide the anger in her eyes. “He pretty much ignored me until he’d realized there was something to gain in marrying me off.”
Hank couldn’t imagine his father treating Bridget like a commodity. She’d always been his princess, his baby girl. And he’d always made sure her brothers treated her that way too. Hank pulled into Howler’s back lot. A lone Softail sat in the parking lot. It was a sweet ride, made even sweeter by the thought of Ivy on it. “That your bike?”
“Yep.” She opened the door, looking back at him like she expected him to say something else.
If he’d upset her with the questions, he hadn’t meant to. But he also didn’t know how to apologize for trying to find out more about her. All he could come up with was, “Follow me home. It’s not far.”
“Right behind you.” She shut the door and climbed onto her bike, popping her helmet on before starting the engine. Why hadn’t she taken off instead of coming here to begin with? There was still a chance she’d run but Hank figured she was more scared of Clem than she was of him. Clem had a reputation for punishing pack members who disobeyed him. Hank supposed that extended to family as well.
He turned out of the lot toward home. She stayed behind him and as she followed him through town, he tried to see things through her eyes. The place was packed with tourists, many kitted up in Nocturne Falls T-shirts, but some were in costumes or half-masks or face paint. The kids were decked out in their favorite Halloween get-ups. It probably seemed crazy to her, and it was in a way, but he admired the cleverness of it. Being a supernatural and not having to hide your real identity all the time made life so much easier.
They left the town behind and drove into the hills, and the countryside grew more rural. He pulled into the entrance of his community, tapped the clicker pinned to his sun visor and waited for the gate to open, then went in slowly so she could keep up with him.
He tried to see his neighborhood the same way he’d seen the town.
The houses in the secluded development were good sized, all stone and wood with neat front yards. She was the daughter of a wealthy alpha and, judging by the Harley she rode, probably lived in a pretty nice place. What would she think of his house? He’d never cared much what anyone had thought of his home before now, but this was a different situation.
He parked in the driveway and got out of his duty car, leaving it outside although he’d opened one of the three garage doors.
She pulled in beside his car, shut the bike down, took off her helmet and flicked her long hair free, still straddling the bike. Her hotness in that moment was not lost on Hank. She squinted at the house. Her smile grew incredulous as she looked at the forest behind it, then to his neighbors on either side. “Really? You live here.”
“Problem?” He liked it. If she was used to something grander…tough.
“First of all, don’t you think Wolf Creek is a little on the nose as your chosen place of residence?”
They’d passed the sign on their way in. He’d never given it much thought. Wolf Creek was one of the main tributaries that fed the falls. It was also a gated community especially for shifters, designed to keep human tourists out. For their own safety. Full moons tended to make things a little hairy.
Literally.
He grunted, having no real response.
She waved a finger at him. “That noise you make? That’s not an answer, you know.”
“Wolf Creek is where I live. If you don’t like it—”
“No, I think it’s beautiful.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“Nothing, it’s just…it’s probably a little forward of me to ask this, but seeing as how we’re about to be married and all, how in the hell do you afford a house like this in a gated community? How much does the sheriff of this burg make?”
He glanced at the house behind him. It was a good house. Craftsman. Solid timbers. Stonework. Well worth the money from his pack dividends. Although, part of it was gifted to him when he’d accepted the position of Nocturne Falls sheriff. The Ellinghams liked to offer deals that were hard to turn down.
Before he could answer, she walked past him into the garage and let out a soft whoop of surprise.
“Is this what I think it is?” She now stood beside his pride and joy. Touching it. Her fingers trailed over the only non-related female he’d ever let spend the night. His 1968 Pontiac GTO. “Sweet ride. Sweet. But again, how can you afford this incredible piece of machinery?”
“I—”
“Are you kidding?” She opened the car door and stuck her head inside. “Is this the Ram Air package?”
“Yes.” His hands flexed, the urge to pull her out of the vehicle warring with what he knew was proper behavior. Which would be the exact opposite of what would happen if he touched her. And those curves.
Truth was, he’d lied to her in his office. Taking her to bed had definitely been in his thoughts.
She straightened and looked at him, but didn’t shut the door. “Black on black.”
He nodded, impressed. He’d never known a woman who knew much about cars, but it followed since the Kincaids ran auto shops.
Her brows lifted. “There were only ten of these produced.”
“Five actually.”
She laughed. “Very good. I already knew that, I just wanted to see if you did, too.” She whistled and went back to admiring the car. “I’d have said yes based on this gorgeous hunk of metal alone. When do I get to drive it?”
“You don’t. Bring your bike into the empty bay.”
To her credit, there was
no pouting in response. “So the neighbors don’t see?”
“Something like that.” He started toward the house, then paused. “Where are your things?”
“In the saddlebags.”
He looked back at the bike. There was no way those saddlebags held more than a weekend’s worth of clothes. That was good. Meant she didn’t intend to stay long. Maybe they could get married and go their separate ways. A marriage in name only sort of thing.
Or maybe she was planning on refusing. Would Clem allow that? Hank thought not. But she might be working on a way around that.
Something inside him deflated a little at the thought. Why her refusing should bother him, he had no idea.
Either way, they had a lot to talk about. He waited at the entrance to the house until she’d wheeled her bike in, then he closed the garage door and opened the one to the house. She unhitched her saddlebags and carried them, one in each hand. He let her go in first.
She brushed past him. Slowly. It was the closest they’d been since being alone in his office. Even after a night in lockup, she smelled faintly floral with the pleasant earthy undertone of all shifters. She stopped, forcing him to share the doorway with her. “Thanks, by the way.”
Up close, her eyes were the color of good, aged whiskey. The kind of burnt, liquid brown a man could drown in. Her lips had the color and ripe fullness of fresh berries. It wouldn’t take much to taste them. Just lean across a few inches, put his mouth on hers. But he couldn’t. Not after their conversation in his office. He forced his gaze to meet her eyes. “For what?”
“You could have sent me packing the minute you figured out who I was and what I was here for.”
“I’m the son of the alpha. You’re the daughter of one. You know as well as I do the obligations that come with those roles.”
She nodded, her gaze skimming over his chest and shoulders like she was taking his measurements. Then the sad, fearful expression he’d seen in her once before returned for a moment. “I do.”
She went inside, giving him a chance to breathe. There was something about her, something powerful that drew him to her like a dog to a bone. Or a red-blooded man to a hot biker chick. He closed his eyes and leaned against the door. The full moon was three days away.
The Werewolf Meets His Match (Nocturne Falls Book 2) Page 3