Wild Harts: Rockstar Shifters Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  Bret stared at Grace, unable to move, to comprehend what had just happened.

  There was just a foot of space between them, but it felt like a bottomless pit that he’d never be able to cross.

  “What did you do to my family?” he whispered, unable to meet her eyes.

  Grace stumbled forward on her knees. “N-nothing,” she said, desperation lacing her voice. “They …,” she stopped. “You were playing close to here, and Tuco had planned an attack. I … Mateo wanted to go, and I couldn’t let him do that. I volunteered to go, I ….”

  Bret sliced his eyes up to Grace. “You attacked my family.”

  Tears were streaming down Grace’s face. “I can’t deny that, but your brother, Drew, he saved my life. We’d set a fire, and I was hurt. He saved me, Bret. I ran, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to get Mateo out of this mess ever since.”

  “My brothers,” Bret whispered. He had to ask, but he was so afraid to know the answer. “Are they …?”

  Grace scooted closer. “They’re fine. But Tuco said Drew killed your father.”

  The news lanced through him, hollowed him out inside. God, poor Drew. And he wasn’t there to help, to be a support like he should have been.

  “I have to go to them,” Bret said, trying to stand. He stumbled and looked down to see deep scratches down his arm. And he could feel heat and wetness at his shoulder. Grace, too, was bleeding and hurt. He was torn between loyalty to his family and his love for this woman.

  Love.

  God, he loved her. What a damn mess. He loved an Espinosa, a clan of wolves who counted his family and all shifter leaders as enemies.

  But then a new realization took hold of him.

  The wolf. His wolf.

  He looked down at Grace then fell back to his knees, his palm pressing against the tattoo over his heart.

  “You’re my soulmate,” he said, barely believing it.

  Grace pressed her lips together and nodded, fresh tears overflowing her lashes.

  “I’ve always known my soulmate was a bear. I kept it a secret, afraid of what my family would do if they knew. But when I saw you the other day, I knew.”

  Bret grabbed Grace’s hands and brought her fingertips to his lips. It all made so much sense now. The way he’d felt drawn to her, the depth of their connection.

  “My vision, it was only of a wolf howling in the distance. I took it to mean fate meant for me to be alone, but now I know it meant you. I was made for you.”

  Grace laughed, but it turned to a pained cough and she pressed her hand to her side. “Now if only we’d not been too stupid to recognize each other as humans.”

  Bret pressed a kiss to Grace’s forehead and pulled her close. “We know now. That’s what’s important.”

  Grace sighed against Bret’s gentle lips. She was hurt, but that would heal. For the first time in weeks—maybe months—Bret felt truly at peace.

  “So,” she said quietly. “You’re a rockstar.”

  Bret grimaced. “Not anymore. I walked out on my brothers. I abandoned them. Until I found you, I was nothing.”

  One side of Grace’s lips curled up. “That doesn’t mean you’re not a rockstar. I saw how many people you started attracting to the bar.”

  Bret grew quiet. He’d thought he’d destroyed any chance at that life the second he quit the band, but maybe …. Bret smoothed a hand down Grace’s hair. “We’ll deal with whether or not I’m a rockstar later.”

  “What do we do now?” Grace asked.

  Bret helped Grace to her feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulder to help her walk. “We go get your brother and we get the hell out of here.”

  Grace nodded and leaned into Bret. He only grabbed the guitar and case, leaving everything else behind. They found the truck, and Bret helped Grace climb into the seat. It looked like the bleeding had stopped on her side, but he still wanted to get it cleaned and dressed, and he worried about a concussion. And there were his own injuries to see to.

  They drove in silence the whole way back to the farmhouse, but Grace’s hand stayed twined with his.

  Gingerly, they climbed the farmhouse steps, Grace led them to the bathroom.

  “Mateo?” She called out once.

  There was no answer, and they set to work cleaning and dressing each other’s wounds. Grace found new clothes for Bret and changed into fresh clothes of her own. Bret sat on the stairs while Grace padded into the kitchen for coffee.

  There was a crash of shattering ceramic, then a gasp.

  Bret lurched to his feet so fast his head spun. He sprinted into the kitchen to find Grace shaking and holding a note.

  “They have him,” she whispered.

  She handed the hastily-written note to Bret and collapsed into a chair. Bret’s eyes flew over the note. It was from Tuco. He’d taken Mateo “for his own good.”

  Until you wake up and realize this family comes first, cuz, Mateo is mine.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Grace

  GRACE’S ENTIRE BODY SHOOK. HER fingers trembled, her stomach roiled. Her eyes skittered around the kitchen, but nothing made sense. Her brain rejected everything.

  Everything except this: Tuco had Mateo.

  Tuco had Mateo, and he could hurt him. He could ….

  Grace gasped out a sob and shoved her hand against her lips.

  “It’s okay,” Bret said. “Shh, it’ll be okay.”

  Grace clung to him. He was the only thing that made sense anymore. Grace clamped her eyes shut, but the last hour just replayed in her mind. Tuco attacking them. Tuco killing Carver. And more. Carver had admitted to killed Grace and Tuco’s Aunt Maria and Uncle Eduardo. Was he telling the truth? Did Tuco murder him because he’d admitted it? Or to stop him from admitting more?

  Grace buried her head into Bret’s chest and fought back the hysteria clawing at her sanity. She had to get a hold of herself, for Mateo.

  Bret’s warm hands held Grace close, kept her steady. She let his strength seep into her, buoy her up until she could stand on her own. She pulled in a shuddering breath, then gathered herself.

  “We need to go find him,” she said.

  Bret nodded. “Do you have any idea where Tuco would take him?”

  Grace’s gaze roved through the kitchen. Her eyes landed on Mateo’s backpack, half-spilled of its contents. Her baby brother. Oh God. If Tuco did anything to him ….

  Think, Grace commanded herself.

  Then she nodded. “I think I do. There’s an old oil well. We’ve met there before.”

  Bret stood back, his hands reassuring on Grace’s shoulders. “I can go on my own,” he began.

  “No,” Grace said, shaking her head for emphasis. “If Mateo’s been hurt, I’m going. We can run. Are you … are you okay with that? Shifting with me?”

  Bret slid his hand down Grace’s arm and twined his fingers with hers. “You are my soulmate, Grace. Shifting with you would be a privilege.”

  They strode out to the back porch, then stood a bit apart from each other. Out across the prairie, a thunderstorm piled into the sky. She could see the drenching rain falling from the dark clouds in sheets. It was the exact direction she needed to go.

  But first, she had to get there. A shot of nerves volleyed through her. It felt … strange shifting in front of Bret. But then she reminded herself that he was like her. No, more than that. They were connected by fate.

  She let the transformation roll through her, then sprang from the back steps. She spun to see a bear where Bret had been. He wasn’t as bulky as some of the Alvarez bears she’d seen, or, she thought with discomfort, as big as the other Hart brothers when she’d fought them. But when he padded down the groaning wooden steps, she could see the movement of his muscle under his thick, dark brown pelt.

  Grace met his eyes and yipped, then took off. Grace was fast, faster than nearly every other shifter she knew. Bret matched her speed. Grace stretched her legs and took off, and Bret was right there at her shoulder, his giant
bear body graceful in its strides.

  Despite her fear, despite the uncertainty about Mateo that was almost making her sick, it felt good to run like this. She run and run without ever having to stop and glance behind her, wait for her partner.

  Sooner than she expected, the old wooden oil well appeared in the distance. It’d been dry for as long as Grace could remember, but the ground around the oil field was still rutted from years of horse-carts and cars. Right now, it looked every bit as abandoned as ever.

  Grace pulled up short, and Bret lurched forward. So he was quick, but not as agile as she was. When all this was over, Grace couldn’t wait to really run and spar with Bret’s bear.

  Grace crouched behind a stand of cedar scrub just as the first cold raindrops fell and shifted. She felt Bret do the same. The shack attached to the oil derrick was still a football field’s length away, but Grace nodded toward the structure and held a finger to her lips.

  Bret nodded. The towering clouds overhead was blurring the day to a gloomy twilight, and the rain was falling harder with every second. Bret squinted into the storm, his brow furrowed.

  “It looks like the worst is still coming,” he whispered. “Let’s wait for it. It’ll give us cover.”

  Bret wrapped his arms around Grace, and they huddled under the cedar scrub, keeping as dry as they could. Soon, the rain was lashing down all around them, and the sky was a brooding greenish-black. Bret squeezed Grace’s hand.

  “Let’s circle around to the back and try to figure out if there’s anyone inside.”

  “There’s a window on the west wall,” Grace said.

  Bret nodded. “Perfect.” Then, with another squeeze of her hand. “Are you ready?”

  Her heart was in her throat, but Grace nodded. Ducked low, they darted through the scrubland toward the shack. Every second, every step, Grace was certain she’d head a growl, a snap of teeth. But they made it to the old wooden outbuilding in a matter of seconds.

  Bret, a head taller, was the one to chance a look inside. He ducked back to Grace quickly, anger snapping in his eyes. That was all the confirmation she needed.

  “How many?”

  “Two. A man and a woman who look about my age.”

  The twins. Grace grimaced. They were distant cousins, but they were brutal and completely dedicated to the cause. But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if it was Tuco himself in there with Mateo. Grace was not leaving her brother in Tuco’s hands for another second.

  Grace touched Bret’s arm and pointed around the front of the building. She was about to dart around the corner when a guttural roar knocked her back into Bret.

  Grace shifted in an instant, and then Bret was at her side in his bear form. But the roar wasn’t the sound of someone attacking them. It was the sound of a bear—a powerful, silvery-brown bear—breaking down the door of the shack.

  Confusion tore through Grace, but she wasn’t about to let this new bear do anything to her brother. Grace shot through the door after the bear and into chaos. The twins had shifted, and the giant bear was fighting them. Bret lunged past her and joined the fray.

  But Grace only had eyes for her brother. He was tied to a chair in the corner, his lip split open and one eye already purpling with a bruise. His head hung limp to his chest. Grace leapt for him and shifted, collapsing at his feet.

  “Mateo,” she said urgently. “Mateo, I’m here.”

  “Gracie?” Her name came out slurred, and he was having trouble focusing. “S’you?”

  “It’s me, little brother,” Grace said, fighting back a sob. What had they done to him?

  Grace shuffled around to the back of the chair and wrenched at the rough ropes lashing him to the chair. But they were tight. Growling, Grace shifted and tore at the rope with her teeth. It hurt her mouth, but she didn’t care. In a flash, the ropes fell, and Mateo slumped forward.

  Grace only just caught him before he fell off the chair. He was a dead weight against her shoulder, and she struggled to even stand with him leaning against her like that.

  “Grace!” She glanced behind to see Bret standing over the moaning body of one of the twins. The guy tried to move, so Bret kicked him in the gut.

  “Help me,” Grace pleaded. Bret was there in a second, and he lifted Mateo over his shoulder.

  The giant silvery bear stepped over the prone body of the woman and paused at the door. It stared at the three of them, then grunted and motioned with his head for them to follow. Grace caught Bret’s eye—a silent question passing between them—but then Grace nodded.

  They couldn’t go home. They couldn’t go back. They had to trust this new bear. It was their only option.

  They ran out into the driving rain, their eyes on the back of the bear loping through the scrubland ahead of them. They stumbled and ran for what felt like close to a mile, then Grace spotted a truck in the distance. It was parked under a giant cottonwood, and as Grace got under the cover of the tree, the rain let up.

  The bear stood before the truck, pacing back and forth. If Grace wasn’t mistaken, it kept eyeing Bret.

  Bret shuffled Mateo on his shoulder, annoyance bleeding off him. “We need to get somewhere safe,” he said shortly.

  The bear huffed a great breath out of its snout then stopped. It shifted into a man, a tall, lean man with short dark hair that exposed a widow’s peak and a snub nose.

  “Bret,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Just—”

  But the man never got to finish. Bret lay Mateo down on the ground, then attacked.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bret

  RAGE BOILED THROUGH BRET’S BODY, threatened to spill forth. But the only thing he wanted to spill was blood.

  Derek Craven’s blood.

  What the fuck was Derek Craven, his vile ex-tour manager who’d lied to them, tried to kill Tiff, doing here? The last he’d known, Derek had been sent to the Southlands Camp, a de facto prison for shifters.

  It didn’t matter why he was here, or how. What mattered was that he was going to die. Bret lunged for Derek, not even bothering to shift. But Derek didn’t either.

  Bret slammed Derek against the truck, the man’s head snapping back. But this wasn’t the same reed-thin, sickly Derek Bret had known. There was muscle under his pale skin now, ropey and sinewy and strong. Derek rammed his hands against Bret’s shoulders and shoved him off.

  “Wait!”

  Bret snarled. “You’re a traitor. You’re a lunatic!”

  Derek held his hands up. “I was. Bret, I was. But I’m not now.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Bret paced, keeping Derek’s back to the truck.

  “I’ve been following Tuco’s gang, trying to figure out what they’re planning. Because they’re planning something big.”

  Bret laughed harshly. “Why? Want to join up with them? It wasn’t enough that you lied to us, now you need to join our enemies to bring us down?”

  Derek sighed loudly and looked down. When he looked up again, his blue eyes were wide and sad. “I can never make up for what I did to you guys, to Tiff, but I can try to do the right thing now.”

  “And that is?” That was Grace. She looked up from where she was crouched over Mateo. “I don’t know what bad blood is between you two, but what, exactly, were you doing there?”

  Derek pointed at Mateo. “Trying to save him. I’ve been casing out the shack, and I saw Tuco drag him in there a couple hours ago. I waited for the rain to go in after him. I thought he’d have some information I could use.”

  “So you were going to torture it out of him?” Bret nearly spit at Derek.

  “No!” Derek shook his head. “Jesus, no. He’s a kid. Whatever he did, he didn’t deserve whatever Tuco was planning. I was in Southlands with that man. He’s a monster. Not worse than Carver Bain, the sadist, but Tuco ….”

  Bret stopped pacing. He eyed Derek. The man was paler than he’d been the last time he’d seen him, but he looked healthier. And his bear …. It was nothing like the
gaunt, nearly desiccated bear he and his brothers had faced the year before. If he was telling the truth ….

  “Why should I believe you?”

  Derek slumped back against the truck. “Believe me because of Tiff. I did … something awful, but she wanted to forgive me even then. She made me believe for the first time in years I could be more than revenge. Bret, you have to believe me. I want to make things right with your family, with the whole shifter world.”

  Bret stared into Derek’s eyes and saw sincerity there. He glanced back at Grace to make sure he was doing the right thing, then, with an encouraging nod from her, he stepped forward and held out his hand. Derek grasped it in a firm shake.

  “Now what?” Grace asked.

  They were holed up in a tiny motel three towns over, eating a vending machine dinner and drinking sodas. The rain still hadn’t let up. Mateo was stretched out on one of the two beds, his gaze a million miles away.

  “You’re sure you don’t want more?” Grace said, sitting at his side.

  Mateo glanced at his sister, then shook his head. If Bret knew anything about this kid, he knew Mateo was dealing with more than physical ailments. He’d looked up to Tuco, from what Grace had said, even revered his older cousin. He was dealing with a loss of trust, a betrayal of his idol, and that was far more painful than a split lip and bruised eye.

  “You shouldn’t have fought back,” Grace said again for the hundredth time.

  Mateo frowned, then winced and pushed fingers to his swollen lip. “I thought they had hurt you. What was I going to do?” Mateo’s words were muddy in his mouth.

  “What did they do to him?” Grace asked.

  “It’s a tranq to stop you from shifting. It’s effective, but the after-effects are … uncomfortable.”

  Bret glanced at Derek, who was eyeing the parking lot outside their window. He’d been the one to shoot Derek with a tranq when they’d rescued Tiff. He shifted uncomfortably and eyed the man. “You said Tuco is planning something. What do you know?”

  Derek shrugged. “I’ve only heard bits and pieces. He has a lot of eyes on him at all times. But I heard a date. April tenth.”