I pulled into the parking lot and noted the familiar vehicles—black SUV, a bike similar to mine, and Harkins’s beat-up, blue truck. Everyone but Lance had arrived. Being the only one that lived outside of town, I’d expected to be the last one there. I knew he wouldn’t be far behind, though, even after the three a.m. wakeup call. Lance always came through for me.
I parked next to my step-brother’s Harley and went in the already unlocked side door. The scent of freshly roasted coffee hit me as I entered the bar. Probably the better choice in drink to start what would surely be a long day. My mother stood behind the bar pouring herself a fresh cup. She wore tight-fitting black jeans, knee-high gray boots, her favorite black leather jacket, and a large, white t-shirt that likely belonged to Garret. Her black hair was up in a ponytail, and no makeup hid the dark, puffy circles under her eyes. From crying or lack of sleep, the hard confidence she usually wore like armor was missing. The only other time I remembered seeing Zaria so unlike herself was when my father died. Though she wasn’t a particularly good parent, I hated that tonight would be hardest on her.
“Can I get a cup of that?” I asked.
My mother gave me a small smile that didn’t match her sad eyes. “Of course,” she answered.
While I poured my coffee, she went to sit between Harkins and Axel at the only table in the room without chairs on top of it. Axel looked like he always did—just-rolled-out-of-bed dirty blond hair, leather jacket, and torn jeans. I couldn’t tell if Harkins had woken him with his phone call or if Axel had been up like I had. It was hard to tell anything about Axel except for his distaste for me and his short fuse.
I joined the group with my black coffee, finding Axel and Harkins sipping on tall glasses of beer.
“Let’s get this over with,” Axel said as I sat down at the meeting table.
“We’re waiting for Lance,” I said.
Axel scowled at me in reply, then took a swig of his beer. I preferred the silent hate to the yelling. Heavy tension hung in the air as we waited in silence for Lance. Watching my mug, the minutes felt like an eternity. I hoped Hailey was sleeping well without me, and that she wouldn’t worry when she woke.
The silence broke as the familiar purr of Lance’s new pickup arrived. All eyes shifted to the door. A few moments later my brother strolled in, looking like we were meeting here for a nice dinner. His short, silver hair was combed into place, blue eyes alert. He had left his button-down, black shirt open at the top to show a touch of his chest as he sauntered in, hands in his jacket pockets.
“Good evening, all,” Lance said as he walked over to the table.
“You’re late. No consideration for the rest of us,” my mother sneered.
Axel sipped his beer, and Harkins gave Lance a nod.
I stood and greeted my brother with a hug. “Glad you’re here,” I said. This talk would be rough on everyone, and I was glad to have Lance’s support. “Let’s get started. Harkins, go ahead.”
Harkins walked back to my office and returned with the cardboard box in his arms. Everyone watched as he set it on the table. “Found Crazy Eyes held up in Ellistown. Turns out Garret made it there fine. Not sure what all happened, but nothin’ good. Town’s gone to shit. Crazy Eyes sent this,” Harkins said.
He gently pulled back the cardboard flaps, opening the box. Everyone stood and leaned forward to look inside. Blonde hair was crusted with blood. Sunken cheeks and facial hair didn’t change that the head in the box was undeniably Garret’s.
Axel let out a terrible howl and threw the table, knocking the box to the floor. The flimsy cardboard tumbled to its side, exposing the bloody, blonde hair within. Zaria collapsed beside the box, falling to her knees. Tears streamed down her usually stoic face. Cracking sounds filled the room, crisp against the quiet sobs pouring from my mother. Axel’s face stretched forward as he started to change. He shoved open the side door as he shifted into wolf form. Leaving his clothes scattered on the floor by the door, Axel took off into the dark night at full pace as a white wolf.
Harkins started after him, brows furrowed. I grabbed his wrist and he turned to me, eyes searching my face.
“Let him go,” I said, and released the stout enforcer’s arm. “The man deserves the chance to deal with this in his own way. If he kills Dashiell, then I won’t have to.”
“Dashiell?” Lance asked, looking calm and unaffected by the situation.
“Crazy Eyes,” Harkins answered.
I looked down at my mother, who sat staring at the box beside her containing her mate’s head. Tears streamed down her face and soft sounds of pain escaped her. I knelt beside her and looked into her lost, golden eyes.
“Mother?” I asked in little more than a whisper.
Zaria didn’t seem to hear me, she just stared at the box and cried.
“He will pay for his crimes. I promise.” I stood, and looked to Harkins and Lance.
“Now what?” Lance asked.
“Now Harkins takes my mother home,” I answered. “And we figure out how the hell we get close enough to stop Dashiell.”
Chapter Six
Hailey
Sunlight peeked through the trees and in through the window. The pillow I hugged to my chest still smelled like Cole. I loved waking up here in the bed he had bought to share with me, to the natural light rising over the mountains. The silk sheets were pleasant against my skin as I stretched my arms across the mattress. It was always better when Cole was still in bed with me, but most days he woke before me. He was probably already dressed and making breakfast. I sat up and let the sheets fall from my chest. The fire in the hearth had burned out so the room was a little colder than usual, and the candles over the mantle were no longer lit.
I had to get ready for work, but I hesitated to leave the fluffy rug for the hardwood floor. One toe on the wood, and goosebumps spread up my body. I ran across the room to the warmth of the carpet in Cole’s walk-in closet. I hadn’t been in the closet before, but I knew Cole had put my bag in there. I flipped on the light switch and looked around. It was the biggest closet I’d ever seen. White, built-in shelving spanned the walls of the long room, plus there were a bunch of rods for hangers. Most of the closet was empty. Why he would build such an amazing place for clothes, but keep such a small wardrobe for himself, I couldn’t understand. Maybe he was making space for me in his life before either of us knew I would be here. I liked the thought.
At the back of the room a red velvet chair sat at an angle facing the rest of the space. The fabric was worn like something that had been well-used, the only piece of furniture with vibrant color, and the only piece that looked like it had history. I’d have to ask Cole about it later. Behind the colorful piece, the wall was covered in a floor-to-ceiling mirror.
I looked at my reflection. Living without fear of Frank Wilson and eating huge portions of Cole’s cooking had added a few pounds. I used to feel self-conscious about my wide hips and soft tummy, but with the way Cole worshipped my body, I couldn’t help but feel feminine and beautiful.
Scanning the closet for my bag, I found Cole’s suit jackets hung on a bar on the left side of the room. Dress shirts and pants were folded neatly on different shelves. Jeans and t-shirts each had their own place, all perfectly straight and separated. He’d lined up his shoes on a low shelf next to their match. There was even a little drawer with neatly folded ties, organized by color. Everything was tidy and in its place. I wondered if looking in my dresser would give him a heart attack. Everything I had was thrown in to the drawers. It started folded, but when I dug through, I mixed it all up.
I turned around to see if my bag was on the other side of the room. The shelf design mirrored the wall where Cole stored his clothes. There was empty space to hang jackets and empty shelves to store pants, shirts, and shoes. My black duffle bag sat on an otherwise empty shelf, but before I could find work clothes for the day, my eyes caught the one piece of clothing hanging on that side of the room. Orange and gold flowers covered the soft
, thin fabric. It was a square-necked sundress, much like the one I had worn for our first time three years ago. Then I had worn the same dress again when we made love at the same stream and I had learned that Cole was a wolf shifter. The dress that was torn when I was attacked by the gray wolf in the forest. The dress before me was silky, and a little shorter than mine. It looked like my size. Cole was so thoughtful, and sentimental. I felt so lucky, and a bit guilty that I hadn’t unpacked my clothes. It seemed silly to hold back when I had already promised to be his forever.
I dug through my bag and decided on a black button-down shirt, a knee-length denim skirt, and dark brown boots that covered my calves to keep me warm. After getting dressed, I dropped my dirty clothes in the hamper. It felt like the first step to keeping my clothes here—washing the dirty ones in Cole’s house instead of Liv’s.
“Cole?” I yelled as I walked down the stairs. The house was strangely quiet. There were no sounds of cooking, no smells of bacon or coffee. I checked the great room and peeked out at the porch. I looked in the bathroom, and finally the kitchen. Cole wasn’t anywhere. Where could he be? He wouldn’t leave for work without talking to me, feeding me breakfast, giving me a goodbye kiss. He wouldn’t make me go to work alone, he would drive me on the Harley as I held onto his back. Something was wrong.
“Cole!” I yelled. When I heard no reply, I sat on the bar stool. A ring of keys sat next to a piece of paper bearing my name, right in front of me on the counter. How had I not seen that, I wondered. I read the careful script.
My Hailey,
Something has come up that I have to deal with. I’m sorry, I hate to leave while you still sleep. I likely won’t be back until Saturday. I’ll call you when I can. Take the truck to work. There’s food in the freezer. I love you.
Cole
What the hell kind of explanation is that? He leaves and doesn’t tell me why, and he doesn't even plan to come back before night. I couldn’t believe it. What happened to the thoughtful man who had bought the orange dress, who had made a bedroom and an art studio just for me? I stomped over to the freezer, furious and hurt. Inside were individually wrapped meals labeled with their contents—chicken marsala, vegetable omelet, beef and broccoli. I had seen enough. Cole had taken the time to make meals for me, delicious meals, but planned ahead without my knowledge. So how long was he planning on being gone? And how long had he known this was coming? I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t tell me about all of this. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t at least woken me to tell me what was going on. Hurt and frustrated, I slammed the freezer door and grabbed the keys.
Chapter Seven
Cole
Cook Brothers’ Bar read the painted wooden sign. Looking up at that sign reminded me of the only other time I had visited this bar. Dad had brought Lance and me along to meet the brothers who owned and ran the business. We were around twelve years old, and our father had taken us all along the boundaries of our pack’s territory. Camping on the ground in the open woods as we went, we had spent an entire week learning all the landmarks. Cook Brothers’ Bar stood on the corner of three territories: Greenville, Sawtooth Valley, and our territory. The brothers who owned it were wolf shifters and belonged to none of the three packs. It was a place for our kind to meet on neutral ground, for packs to come together, and for humans and wolves to grab a beer when they were passing through. Being at the familiar cabin once again made me nostalgic for the week we had spent camping. I missed my dad.
Though feeling sentimental, I stayed alert as I entered the long, wooden building. The man I’d talked to on the phone had been hiding something, so I didn’t quite know what I was walking into. The quiet room looked exactly the way I remembered—dark wooden walls, heavy wooden booths, and a bar that took up half of the space. The little tube TV that had sat on the corner of the counter had been replaced sometime between my visits with two large flatscreens in the corners of the room. They were situated so the whole room could watch the current show about human hunters searching for deer in the woods. Well, they could have watched it if anyone had actually been in the bar.
Framed pictures decorated the wall by the door. One was of the Cook brothers, Lowell and Dominic, arms over each other’s broad shoulders in front of the bar. Both brothers had thick heads of blond hair, trim but muscular builds, and huge smiles. The picture looked like it was about fifteen years old, maybe from when they had opened their business. It may have even been there when I had come as a child, but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t recognize the men in most of the photographs. The picture closest to the bar was of my father and Stratton Walker, sitting in one of these booths with tall mugs of beer. It was a shame that both alphas were dead now. None of this would have happened if my father was still alive, or if Stratton had seen Dashiell coming.
“Hello,” I said in the empty room. The lights were on and the doors were unlocked, so someone had to be around.
“Just a minute. I’m on my…” A thin man with dark hair and colorful tattoo sleeves down his arms walked out of the stockroom carrying a box of liquor bottles.
One look at me and his eyes went wide.
“Oh shit,” he said, then dropped the box and ran for the door.
He was too slow to be a wolf, though he smelled like he spent a lot of time around my kind. I easily beat him to the door, and he slammed into my chest. His scent was overwhelmingly stained with human fear as he fell to the ground and backed away from me.
“Sit,” I said, pointing to a booth.
He obeyed without a word, climbing up onto the seat. He stared at me, eyes wide and never blinking.
“Zane, I’m guessing.”
He nodded.
“You know who I am?” I asked, sitting across the table from him.
He nodded again.
“How do you know me, Zane?” I asked.
“You’ve been calling every day,” he answered, voice shaking.
“I have. But that doesn’t answer my question,” I replied.
“I, uh,” he stammered.
“Choose your words carefully. I know when you lie, Zane,” I growled. “I can detect the subtle changes in your voice’s pitch, see the increase in perspiration beading along your hairline. I can hear your heart race in your chest, and smell the stench of your fear.”
He reached his hand down to his back pocket, keeping his wide, green eyes on mine. “May I?” he asked.
I nodded, and he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and onto his lap. He dug through, looking down and back up at me as he searched for whatever he wanted to show me. When he found it, he set the small rectangle on the table for me to see. I studied the photograph. It was a picture of me outside of Sawtooth Den, likely taken with a long-range lens from somewhere in the woods based on the angle. Too close. Whoever took this photo could have seen me with Hailey. With any real surveillance, anyone watching would know that she was mine. The thought of Hailey in danger made my blood boil. I couldn’t let her be targeted because of me. I had to keep her safe.
“Who gave you this?” I growled.
Zane’s whole body trembled as he stood and slowly walked over to the wall of pictures. He pulled one off of the wall and set it before me. It was a close-up shot of a man with a square face. He had shoulder-length blond hair and a full, thick, yellow beard. A slice across the bridge of his wide nose almost split it in two, and he wore a patch over his left eye. His right eye was dilated like he was on some sort of drugs. Crooked teeth showed through his partially open mouth in what looked more like a sneer than a smile.
“Where are the Cook brothers, Zane?” I knew the answer before I asked, like I knew the answer to the only other question I needed to ask. But I needed to hear the words from his mouth.
His voice was little more than a whisper when he answered, “Dead.”
Despite knowing what he would say, I asked, “What’s his name?”
I pointed to the man in the picture as I leaned forward, and lowered my brow, staring into Zane’s wide, gre
en eyes.
He answered in one word, “Dashiell.”
Chapter Eight
Hailey
My phone vibrated again in my pocket. I didn’t need to check to know it was Cole. He had called three times, and I was set that I was not going to answer. I was busy working, just like he was supposed to be. If he wanted to talk to me, he should have done it before he ran off to god knows where. He should have talked to me when he was planning out the days of meals for me to eat alone, not after. Liv was going to visit Pierce over the weekend, so I had the options of being alone at Liv’s house or alone at Cole’s. I hadn’t decided which was worse yet.
I thought about the note again, for the millionth time. It read like a list of commands. Take the truck. Eat this particular food. Wait on my call. I pushed another flower stem down into the vase.
“Whatever that lily did to you, he had better watch out.” Eric raised his brow at me then looked down at the arrangement I was ruining. The lily’s stem had snapped from my rough handling.
“I’m sorry. Cole had to leave for some work thing. I’m an emotional mess,” I admitted.
“Been all hot and heavy and now you’re feeling lost without him?” Eric asked.
“Yeah, but I hadn’t really thought of it like that. I’m hurt that he didn’t tell me what’s going on with him. I thought we could share everything,” I said.
“Honey, girls are better at sharing feelings. I used to have the same problem with Victor. Now he shares more than he used to, and I’ve learned to accept that holding some things in is part of the whole macho thing,” Eric said.
Werewolves & Whiskers: Sawtooth Peaks Wolf Shifter Romance Box Set Page 16