Rebel: Wolfes of Manhattan One

by HELEN HARDT

  Rebel

  Wolfes of Manhattan One

  Helen Hardt

  Contents

  Rebel

  Dedication

  Praise For Helen Hardt

  1. Rock

  2. Lacey

  3. Rock

  4. Lacey

  5. Rock

  6. Lacey

  7. Rock

  8. Lacey

  9. Rock

  10. Lacey

  11. Rock

  12. Lacey

  13. Rock

  14. Lacey

  15. Rock

  16. Lacey

  17. Rock

  18. Lacey

  19. Rock

  20. Lacey

  21. Rock

  22. Lacey

  23. Rock

  24. Lacey

  25. Rock

  26. Lacey

  27. Rock

  28. Lacey

  29. Rock

  30. Lacey

  31. Rock

  32. Lacey

  33. Rock

  34. Lacey

  35. Rock

  36. Lacey

  37. Rock

  38. Lacey

  39. Rock

  40. Lacey

  41. Rock

  42. Lacey

  43. Rock

  44. Lacey

  45. Rock

  46. Lacey

  47. Rock

  48. Lacey

  49. Rock

  50. Lacey

  51. Rock

  52. Lacey

  53. Rock

  54. Lacey

  55. Rock

  Epilogue

  A Note From Helen

  Acknowledgments

  Also By Helen Hardt

  About the Author

  Rebel

  Wolfes of Manhattan One

  by

  Helen Hardt

  * * *

  This book is an original publication of Helen Hardt

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  * * *

  Copyright © 2020 Helen Hardt, LLC dba Hardt & Sons

  Cover Design: Marci Clark, Nerdy Kat Designs

  Editor: Celina Summers

  * * *

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  * * *

  Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9907461-9-5

  * * *

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  Created with Vellum

  For my family

  Praise For Helen Hardt

  STEEL BROTHERS SAGA

  * * *

  “Craving is the jaw-dropping book you need to read!”

  ~ Lisa Renee Jones, New York Times bestselling author

  * * *

  "Completely raw and addictive."

  ~ Meredith Wild, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  * * *

  “Talon has hit my top five list... up there next to Jamie Fraser and Gideon Cross.”

  ~ Angel Payne, USA Today bestselling author

  * * *

  “Talon is a sexy, intriguing leading man and Jade, our lady left at the altar is a sweet and relatable girl you just want to hug. Together they build a steaming hot relationship you really root for from the first chapter!”

  -CD Reiss, New York Times bestselling author

  * * *

  “Talon and Jade’s instant chemistry heats up the pages...”

  ~ RT Book Reviews

  * * *

  “Sorry Christian and Gideon, there’s a new heartthrob for you to contend with. Meet Talon. Talon Steel.”

  ~ Booktopia

  * * *

  “Such a beautiful torment—the waiting, the anticipation, the relief that only comes briefly before more questions arise, and the wait begins again... Check. Mate. Ms. Hardt...”

  ~ Bare Naked Words

  * * *

  “Made my heart stop in my chest. Helen has given us such a heartbreakingly beautiful series.”

  ~Tina, Bookalicious Babes

  * * *

  BLOOD BOND SAGA

  * * *

  “An enthralling and rousing vampire tale that will leave readers waiting for the sequel.”

  ~ Kirkus Reviews

  * * *

  “Helen gives us the dark, tormented vampire hero we all love in a sensual paranormal romance with all the feels. Be warned... the twists and turns will keep you up all night reading. I was hooked from the first sentence until the very end.”

  ~ J.S. Scott, New York Times bestselling author

  * * *

  “A dark, intoxicating tale.”

  ~ Library Journal

  * * *

  “Helen dives into the paranormal world of vampires and makes it her own.”

  ~ Tina, Bookalicious Babes

  * * *

  “Throw out everything you know about vampires--except for that blood thirst we all love and lust after in these stunning heroes--and expect to be swept up in a sensual story that twists and turns in so many wonderfully jaw-dropping ways.”

  ~ Angel Payne, USA Today bestselling author

  1

  Rock

  When I was fourteen years old, I tried to kill my father.

  The stunt had cost me my freedom. I’d have gladly spent the rest of my life imprisoned as the love slave of a Greek battalion had I been successful. But to be put through hell when the bastard was still alive? So not worth it.

  Military school. Not just any military school, but a private academy where millionaires sent their troubled kids to be beaten down, where the rules were that there were no rules. Where survival of the fittest was no longer reserved for the animal kingdom.

  I survived.

  I grew stronger living through the hell that was Buffington Academy. Secluded in the Adirondacks, the school was home to the most spoiled young men in the world…and the most troubled. After two weeks, I knew I didn’t belong there, but I spent four years in that hellhole.

  Those years made me wish for juvie.

  But no, my parents didn’t turn me in. Instead…Buffington.

  I spent those years plotting my father’s demise, but of course by the time I turned eighteen and released myself, I knew better. I’d learned my lesson. My father wasn’t worth it. Trying to take him out had cost me four years of my life.

  Even so, I dreamed of his death. It was no less than he deserved.

  But when it finally happened, I was totally unprepared.

  “Dad’s dead,” my brother Reid said into the phone when I answered.

  I froze, as if ice water had replaced the blood in my veins.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. What happened?”

  “We’re not sure yet. But I have to ask you, bro…”

  “What?”

  “Were you anywhere near Dad’s penthouse last night?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Someone shot him in the head in the penthouse.”

  I couldn’t help a chuckle. Most guys might freak out hearing this kind of news. Not me. The bastard had it coming.

  “They’re going to get in touch with you,” Reid continued.

  “I’m at my cabin, Reid.
And by the way, you don’t sound too broken up.”

  “None of us are. He was a bastard. That’s public knowledge.”

  “So why the interrogation? There’re a thousand people who probably wanted him dead.”

  “True, but Dad sent you away when you were so young. The cops are going to think you might be getting back at him.”

  “Don’t you think I’d have done something before now?”

  “Whatever, man. Still, Riley, Roy, and I need to know. Did this in any way involve you?”

  “I just told you. I’m home.”

  “You could have hired it out.”

  Seriously? I’d been a model citizen since I left Buffington—well, maybe not model in the sense of perfect, since I’d been arrested in a biker brawl once, but I hadn’t started it and the charges were dropped. I’d driven after too many drinks a few times, but I hadn’t gotten caught. I’d made my own money, never stole a dime. And never took one penny from that motherfucker who’d fathered me. Not that he would have given me any. I had a few biker buds who might have been able to handle a contract on a human life, but I’d have never asked.

  The asshole warranted better than a paid hitman who bore him no ill will. He deserved to be taken out by someone he’d wronged, someone who could look into his cold eyes so he knew who was doing the deed.

  There were a ton of us out there.

  “I didn’t,” I told my brother. “Trust me. I had nothing to do with it. But I’m glad the asshole’s dead.”

  “None of us are crying, like I said.” Reid sighed through the phone line. “Thank God.”

  “Relieved, are you?”

  “Of course. You’re my big brother. I don’t want you rotting in prison for the rest of your life.”

  I hadn’t seen my brothers and sister in years. Reid was the only one who kept in touch with me regularly. I heard from Roy and Riley every once in a while. Roy didn’t keep in touch with anyone, and Riley had her own issues.

  “I won’t be. I was out on a ride last night with buddies who can vouch for me. I got in around one a.m.”

  “They think the murder occurred around four this morning. You couldn’t have gotten here by then.”

  “Plus the fact that I’m still in Montana right now.”

  “Yeah. Right. I’m not thinking straight.” Reid cleared his throat. “You need to get on the next flight to New York.”

  “Fuck that. I’m not coming home.”

  “You have to. The cops want to talk to you.”

  “There’s this little thing called a phone.”

  “Damn it, Rock. You need to come home.”

  “Burn him and be done with it. You don’t need me for that.”

  “We haven’t made any funeral arrangements yet.”

  “What do you need me for, then?

  “The attorneys are reading Dad’s will tomorrow morning.”

  “Why the hell should I care? You know he didn’t leave me a damned penny.”

  “It specifies that we all have to be present. They won’t read it without you there.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” The bastard was going to rub my nose in it from the grave. All his billions…and I’d get nothing.

  Not that I cared.

  Much, anyway.

  “Sorry,” Reid said. “But it’ll be good to see you, bro. I’ve…missed you.”

  Truthfully, I’d missed him as well. He was my youngest brother, and he and I had been close once. Roy, who fell between us, was a classic introvert who’d spent most of his childhood in his room painting or reading. That left Reid to be my primary playmate, even though he was five years younger. Riley hadn’t come around until I was eight and Reid was three.

  “All right. I’ll get a flight.”

  “I’m one step ahead of you. I’m emailing you your confirmation. Pack a bag. Your flight leaves out of Helena in three hours.”

  2

  Lacey

  The estate of Derek Paul Wolfe…

  I’d drafted the last updates to his last will and testament just three weeks earlier. He’d made some changes that puzzled me, but I was an attorney. My job was to do what the client wanted as long as the law allowed it.

  And the law allowed a person to bequeath whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted with whatever contingencies he wanted.

  I fiddled with my hair. I was about to meet Derek Wolfe’s ex-wife and children. His longtime live-in lover, ex-supermodel Fonda Burke, would probably show up as well.

  I’d never met any of them, but I’d seen plenty of photos. They were all spectacular, as anyone descended from or associated with Derek Wolfe was bound to be.

  He had a reputation as a wolf—no pun intended—in the boardroom and the bedroom. Not that I’d know, though he’d tried to lure me to his bed more than once. Admittedly, I’d considered it, even though he was thirty years my senior. The man was gorgeous.

  His sons were even more gorgeous. At least the two younger ones were. I’d never seen so much as a photo of his oldest son, Rock. His daughter, Riley, was quickly replacing Fonda Burke as the most successful supermodel of all time—a fact I was sure perturbed the latter more than a lot.

  I needed caffeine. Actually, I needed a shot of tequila, but coffee would have to suffice. I couldn’t meet the children of Derek Wolfe with alcohol on my breath.

  Today I’d deliver some news that none of them could possibly be expecting.

  I sat at the head of the table in the conference room. I’d only been made a partner during the last year, so when my mentor, Robert Mayes, had given me the Derek Wolfe estate file, presumably at the client’s request, I’d been more than a little flabbergasted, but large estates were my specialty, so I’d dived right in.

  To my right sat Constance Larson Wolfe, blond and beautiful and botoxed, perfect “first wife” material. She and Derek had been divorced for the last five years, and she’d been living the high life on her spousal maintenance. She wouldn’t like what was in the document I held before me, but nothing could be done about that.

  Next to her was Riley Wolfe, supermodel extraordinaire, and Derek’s only daughter. Dark hair and eyes, definitely a winter type, though she modeled during all the seasons. She was in demand and was fast accumulating her own fortune.

  To Riley’s right was Roy Wolfe, the middle brother. He was an artist—though not a starving one—by trade, living off his hefty trust fund. He had the most perfect face of all the brothers, a male version of his baby sister. His long hair was as silky and shiny as hers was, though it was pulled back in a low ponytail. He was known as somewhat of a recluse.

  Next to him was Reid Wolfe, the youngest brother, who sported the signature Derek Wolfe dark hair—all of the children did—but instead of brown eyes, his were a searing blue that held a seductive look, even when he was sitting and waiting for his father’s will to be read. Small wonder he was so popular with the ladies. He was a playboy of the first order, always with a new woman on his arm.

  Fonda Burke sat on my left. Still a beautiful woman at forty-two with flaming orange hair and striking green eyes, she had much to look forward to. She wouldn’t be happy with the reading of the will.

  None of them would be.

  We sat quietly, waiting for the missing person.

  Rock Wolfe—the oldest child of Derek and Connie Wolfe.

  The rebel.

  Rock had a troubled past, though no one actually knew the facts other than his family, and I wasn’t sure they even knew. Derek had made no secret of his animosity toward his firstborn son.

  We sat, no one speaking. Until Reid said, “He should be here by now. His flight got in an hour and a half ago, and I told him to come straight here.”

  “Rock has always been on his own time schedule,” Connie Wolfe said. “That’s part of his charm.”

  Then two harsh knocks on my door. “Come in,” I said, expecting my assistant, Charlie.

  Instead, in strolled a man who could only be the elusive Rock Wolf.


  While his brothers’ hair was sleek and combed into place, Rock’s dark tresses were wavy and unruly, falling below his shoulders. His jawline was sculpted and laced with black stubble, and his nose slightly crooked, clearly had been broken at least once. His lips were full and beautiful. And his eyes… A green so clear and powerful a person could get lost in them.

  I had to break my gaze away from his magnificently handsome face to notice his wardrobe. While his brothers were clad in Armani suits and ties, Rock wore Levi’s that accented his ass and thighs to perfection. A black leather motorcycle jacket—over gorgeously broad shoulders—and black boots completed his ensemble.