Keeping Her Pride (Ladies of the Pack Book 1)

by Lauren Esker

  "Keep your eyes shut. Are they shut?"

  "Fletcher, I'm going to trip on something and fall." Debi laughed, allowing herself to be led down the hallway. "And remember I'm six foot three. When I fall, I really fall."

  "I won't let you fall. Trust me."

  "I do," she said.

  But she still couldn't help peeking from under her eyelashes, just to make sure she didn't set a foot wrong. Her ankle was fully healed, aside from a few scars, but she didn't think Fletcher understood how challenging it was to walk on three-inch heels at the best of times. She didn't want to break it again.

  Fletcher stopped her with his hands lightly resting on her shoulders. His key rattled in the lock. "Eyes closed?"

  "Fletcher, for the last time, yes."

  In the interests of fair play, she screwed up her eyes so they were really, truly shut as Fletcher steered her through a half-turn. "Okay," he said. "You can open them now."

  Debi did.

  "Good Lord," she said.

  Their condo had suffered an explosion of balloons and crepe paper. Streamers trailed from the edges of the furniture—now slightly more furniture than a few months ago, since they'd pooled Fletcher's belongings together with the handful of things that Debi had kept from her old place.

  The reason for the decorations was made abundantly clear from the banner dangling from the kitchen island: HAPPY FREEDOM-FROM-WORK DAY!

  "Fletcher, you make it sound as if I got fired from Chang & Luntz, rather than amiably quitting."

  "Look, your birthday's not for four months, so give me a chance to pamper you." Fletcher shooed her inside. "There's a cake, too."

  "Oh, so that's why you kept fishing about my favorite cake flavors."

  "Chocolate cherry," Fletcher said promptly.

  There was a tiny hissing sound from Fletcher's pocket and a small, wedge-shaped brown head popped up. Olivia was going through a phase when she wanted to be a snake all the time. Debi remembered doing something similar as a kid; at one point she'd been a lion cub for two weeks straight, and then had gotten it out of her system and never really wanted to do that again. She'd reassured Fletcher that Olivia was going to grow out of it, too. In the meantime, Fletcher carried her around in his pocket a lot.

  "No cake for snakes," Debi told her. "Only little girls get cake."

  Olivia's head sank down and she rested her chin on the edge of Fletcher's pocket, flicking her tongue out.

  "I guess snake wins over cake," Fletcher remarked. "For now. Are you entirely sure it's healthy for her to live on a diet of nothing but, uh, snake food?" He'd turned actually, literally green the first time he'd seen his daughter eat a dead mouse; it had taken all Debi's willpower not to burst out laughing.

  "Why not? It's full of protein and fiber."

  A hint of green crept back in. "Have mercy. I want to have some appetite for cake."

  There was not only a chocolate cake, but a bucket of ice on the countertop with a bottle of champagne inside. Fletcher popped the cork and filled the two waiting glasses. "Happy voluntary unemployment," he told Debi, tapping his glass to hers.

  "Better than involuntary unemployment, I suppose." She took a sip.

  "I don't suppose you've given any more thought to my offer. Now that I'm turning Briggs Enterprises around again, we could use a full-time accountant on staff. Especially if that person is also co-owner of the company."

  Debi rolled the champagne around on her tongue while she considered her response. After he'd almost lost the company to Chloe, the fact that he was willing to let her in, to make her a full partner, touched her down to her soul.

  And yet.

  "I really appreciate that, Fletcher. More than I can say. But the company is your baby, not mine. I need to have my own baby." She paused, frowning. "That came out wrong."

  "You're cute when you're flustered." Fletcher kissed her nose. "And yeah, that makes sense. Are you still thinking about opening your own accounting firm?"

  "That, or going back to school. I'd like to do something to help people. I really enjoy math, but I'm also kicking around the idea of becoming a paralegal or something like that. Help out the shifter community with legal services, or set up a trust fund to help the families of the people my family hurt, or ... something. Right now I'm just exploring my options until I—oh!"

  A tickle on her wrist made her jump and almost spill her champagne. She was resting her left hand on the countertop amid a welter of balloons. She hadn't noticed, and apparently Fletcher hadn't either, as Olivia slithered out of his pocket, across the counter, and now had begun to wind herself around Debi's wrist like a living bracelet.

  "Oh, hello." Debi lifted her carefully. Olivia looked at her with bright, beadlike eyes. "Look how long she's getting, Fletcher. Isn't she long?"

  Fletcher grinned and petted Olivia's scales as the little snake preened. "She's going to be one heck of a snake someday."

  "Do you want to play in the snake tank?" Debi asked. She didn't really get an answer, as such, but she went over to the tank and Olivia perked up. Debi lowered her hand into the tank. Olivia happily unwound from her arm and vanished among the driftwood and artificial bushes under the tank's sunlamp.

  "Just knock on the glass when you want out, kiddo," Fletcher told her. Olivia still couldn't get out of the tank on her own—if she could climb out, the actual snake would also be able to climb out—but she'd learned to tap on the glass with her nose when she wanted attention.

  Debi sometimes worried that Olivia would shift back to human inside the tank and either hurt herself or crush the corn snake, but so far, that hadn't happened. Young as she was, Olivia did have a lot of control over her shifting and her snake behavior. And she would gain more as she grew up.

  "Gotta say, I'm glad she's in there for awhile." Fletcher put an arm around Debi's waist and pressed his lips to the side of her neck. "I have something in the bedroom for you."

  Debi snorted in amusement. "Subtle, very subtle. I don't know how much grownup fun you think we can get up to when there's a four-almost-five-year-old right in the next room, but—holy crow."

  The covers were pulled down on the bed, revealing a pristine cream-colored satin sheet scattered with bright red rose petals. Electric tea lights glimmered on the bedside table, along the headboard, and atop the dresser, filling the room with a soft golden light.

  "Happy freedom-from-work day," Fletcher murmured, burying his nose in her neck.

  "I wish you'd stop calling it that." But she toed off her shoes and quietly but firmly closed the door before capturing his lips with hers.

  Fletcher kissed her like his life depended on it, one hand resting on her waist and the other cupping her face. His proximity drove her into a frenzy of anticipation.

  She would never grow tired of making love to this man. Never.

  They kissed breathlessly, tangled together, stumbling across the room to fall among the scattered rose petals. The sweet scent of crushed roses filled the room, tickling Debi's heightened senses. Fletcher started to unbutton her blouse, but she shook her head and flipped up her skirt, wriggling out of her red silk panties—exactly the color of the roses, she noticed with the distant part of her mind that wasn't consumed by lust.

  "Don't make me wait," she panted, lifting her hips.

  Fletcher groaned and unbuttoned his pants, shoving them unceremoniously over his hips. Debi spread her legs to receive him, already wet and ready. As he guided himself in, he thumbed her sensitive nub and she shivered in reaction.

  Some days their lovemaking was sweet and gentle, lasting for hours, but today it was fast and hard and urgent. Debi twined her arms around Fletcher's neck, thrusting back as he pounded her. She rolled over on top and rode him vigorously, knees spread to either side. Their shared climax came before she expected it, a warm tingling heat spreading through her hips and bursting into white-hot electricity that arched her spine while Fletcher filled her with his own heat.

  Debi flopped on top of him, and eventually
rolled off as he softened inside her. "Now that," she panted, "is a good way to celebrate my last day at the accounting firm." She squirmed. Something hard was digging into her back. "Fletcher, I hate to break it to you, but some of these roses still have thorns."

  Fletcher propped himself up on his elbow, looking amused. "Well, do something about it, then."

  "Really? You are truly a prince among men," she said dryly and rolled onto her side, feeling around for the offending object. "Oh, wonderful. It's not a rose stem at all. Did I lose an earring? No ..." She held it up, a ring with a slim gold band and a diamond set with a tiny emerald to each side. "Wait a minute. Where did this come from? I've never seen this before in my life."

  "Read the inscription," Fletcher said, his voice gentle.

  Debi tilted it to the light and read aloud, "'Will you be mine?' Oh," she breathed, as the meaning of the words sank in.

  "I didn't want to make it a direct marriage proposal just in case you didn't—That is, Debi, I love you and you're beautiful and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but if you're not ready or if you have something else in mind, or—"

  "Fletcher," Debi said, rolling over on top of him. "Shut up and kiss me."

  A long time later, as they lay among the rose petals with most of their clothing strewn across the bed, she murmured into his neck, "Of course I'll marry you. Don't be ridiculous."

  "I didn't even ask you if marriage is a thing your clan does."

  "Clan?" she asked, propping up her chin in her hand. The ring was a small hard pressure against her cheek. Already it felt as if it fit there, as if it belonged. No ankle monitor, this. It was not a trap, but a symbol of her freedom.

  "Or pride. Whatever you call it? I know that different kinds of shifters have different traditions. I did some research on this beforehand."

  "You mean you talked to Nia. For the love of God, Fletcher, please don't get all your information on shifters from Nia Veliz. She may be my best friend, but she's still, well, Nia."

  "I talked to other people too," Fletcher protested. "So marriage is a thing you do."

  "It's a thing I do." She kissed him lightly. "It's a thing I would love very much to do with you. Of course I'll have to devour you on our wedding night."

  "... what?"

  "Metaphorically speaking," she purred, and nibbled on his neck.

  "There won't be a wedding if you give me a heart attack first."

  Debi laughed and pressed her face into his neck, rubbing on him as if she could have him all over her skin, all over her everywhere.

  "You know what?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled against his skin.

  "What?" he asked softly.

  "I'm happy, Fletcher. I'm really happy."

  "Me too," he whispered, and turned his head to the side, burying his face in her hair. "Me too."

  Author’s Note

  If you’d like to read more about Debi Fallon and Agent Jack Ross, they are both introduced in Handcuffed to the Bear, Shifter Agents #1, which is also available through Kindle Unlimited.

  Thank you for reading Keeping Her Pride! I would love to know what you thought about it; you can leave a review on Amazon or email me: laureneskerwriter@gmail.com. You can also follow me on Facebook at laureneskerwriter or on Twitter as LaurenEsker.

  If you’d like to be notified of my new releases, you can sign up for my mailing list by clicking this link: http://eepurl.com/cItfFv.

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  About the Author

  Lauren Esker is a writer, graphic designer, and lifelong Alaskan. She lives with her husband and pets on the highway in a former gold-mining district, not far from Fairbanks, Alaska’s second-largest city. She also enjoys reading, hiking, gardening, and art. In the past she managed the layout department at the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner (the local paper) and taught at the Fairbanks Summer Arts Festival. She now writes full time. You can find her online at laurenesker.com.

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  Cover photo credits: © Can Stock Photo Inc. Cover design by Layla Lawlor.

  Also by Lauren Esker

  Handcuffed to the Bear – Shifter Agents #1. A bear-shifter ex-mercenary and a curvy lynx shifter searching for her best friend's killer are handcuffed together and hunted in the wilderness. Can they learn to rely on each other before their pasts, and their pursuers, catch up with them? Full-length romantic suspense novel.

  Guard Wolf – Shifter Agents #2. Avery is a lone werewolf without a pack; Nicole is a social worker trying to put her life back together after a personal disaster. When he shows up on her doorstep with a box of orphaned werewolf puppies and danger in pursuit, can two lonely people find the family they've been missing in each other? Full-length shifter romantic suspense novel.

  Dragon’s Luck – Shifter Agents #3. Gecko shifter and infiltration expert Jen Cho teams up with sexy dragon-shifter gambler "Lucky" Lucado to win a high-stakes poker game. Now they're trapped on a cruise ship full of mobsters, mysterious enemy agents, and evil dragons, and it'll take all their wits and luck to get out of this alive! Full-length romantic suspense novel.

  Tiger in the Hot Zone – Shifter Agents #4. In her search for the truth about shifters, tell-all blogger Peri Moreland has been clashing with tiger shifter and SCB agent Noah Easton for years. Now she and Noah are on the run with an unstoppable assassin after them and a custom-made plague threatening the entire shifter world. Full-length romantic suspense novel.

  Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing - Can the big bad wolf and a sheep shifter have a happy ending? Curvy farm girl Julie Capshaw was always warned away from the wolf shifters next door, but Damon Wolfe is the motorcycle-riding, smoking hot alpha wolf of her dreams! This paranormal romance novel is a romantic comedy spiced with action and red-hot sex.

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  Keep reading for a special preview

  Tiger in the Hot Zone

  Shifter Agents #4

  Available Now!

  Punk-haired Peri Moreland, of the popular conspiracy blog Tell Me More!, has been a thorn in the side of the Shifter Crimes Bureau for years. In particular, Peri and her tell-all reporting are a headache for tiger shifter Noah Easton, who runs the SCB's PR division ... otherwise known as their cover-up department. It's Noah's job to make sure normal humans don't find out about shifters—especially humans such as Peri Moreland, his beautiful and oh-so-sneaky nemesis.

  But this time, Peri has stumbled upon a story even the SCB doesn't know about. Half-shifted bodies, dead of a mysterious illness, have been turning up around town. Peri connects the clues and before you can say "conspiracy theory", she's on the radar of a bunch of very bad people ... and the SCB.

  Noah hasn't done field work in years; ever since a disastrous assignment years ago, he refuses to go out in the field or even carry a gun. But now he's got Peri to look out for and a secret anti-shifter organization called the Valeria on his tail. They're out to kill anyone who gets in their way before their custom-engineered shifter plague can do its work. As the SCB's agents fall sick one by one, can two pariahs team up to save them all?

  Chapter One

  It was one of those nights when Peri Moreland was glad she'd put her running leg on.

  She hadn't planned on being chased halfway across a closed junkyard by a Rottweiler, but sometimes these things happened. Especially to her.

  "Nice doggie!" she gasped, slaloming wildly between a parked school bus with no windows and a stack of cars smashed into car sandwiches. Weren't there supposed to be procedures for this? In the movies, didn't action heroes tame guard dogs using steaks and kindness?

  Even if she happened to have a steak stuffed in her backpack, which she didn't, this dog would probably consider it a nice appetizer for a Peri entree.

  She skidded around the bus and her heart sank when she saw how far away the fence was. But there was a crane with a giant electromagnet behind the stack of smashed cars. The thing was enormous, a huge tracked base with a rotating cab on it, hopefully out of dog-leaping range. Peri changed direction on the fly and
scrabbled up the crane's tracks on pure adrenaline, bouncing the carbon-fiber polymer "foot" of her running leg off the top of the track and bounding up the ladder into the crane's cab. She fumbled with the latch on the Plexiglass door, found it unsecured, and fell into the cab, slamming the door after her.

  After taking a minute to let her heart stop clawing its way out of her chest, she sat up cautiously and looked down. The dog had its paws up on the crane's track, whining eagerly, but showed no signs of being able to climb after her.

  Peri wondered how long it was going to take it to give up. Not soon, from the look of things.

  At least she could be relatively comfortable while contemplating her poor life choices. She took off her backpack and flopped in the padded driver's seat. For a few minutes, she entertained herself by inspecting the controls and speculating on whether she could start it up, drive over to the fence, and safely deposit herself outside. She gave up on that plan when she realized that the crane needed a key, and hotwiring a crane wasn't in her skill set.

  She put up her feet on the instrument panel—one scuffed Reebok sneaker, one high-tech carbon-fiber running blade—and got a bottle of water and a granola bar out of her backpack. The pack's relative lightness, compared to when she'd snuck into the junkyard half an hour ago, reminded her that she'd dropped a nearly-new EMF meter when the dog startled her. Maybe she could come back by daylight and ... er ... come up with some plausible story for how she'd lost it in the junkyard that didn't involve the words "ghosts" or "trespassing."

  Even if she'd believed in ghosts, which she didn't, she thought it was a reasonable conjecture that the junkyard was not haunted, despite local rumors of ghost lights and weird noises. The noises were probably the dog, and any ghosts would have been long since chased off.