Monday, April 24, 2017

Ravaged - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“I’m so sorry for making you wait, Miss Tribideaux.”

Alyson turned at the friendly greeting. Looking at Frederick Rogers Haight, several things struck her. Medium height, average build, common brown hair with a smattering of grey threaded through, and mediocre brown eyes framed by non-descript steel wire-rims. They all added up to someone who would normally blend in with the crowd if it weren’t for his bright smile and jovial attitude.

“That’s quite all right, Reverend Haight. Sharon has been taking good care of us.” She took a deep breath as she shook his proffered hand. The crisp scent of a red delicious. Well, that killed any theory about him being a super.

The assistant froze for a moment, but Haight’s chuckle seemed to relax her. “I’m not sure what I’d do without her. Honestly, she’s the one who keeps this place running.”

Sharon blushed, and the lightest hint of roses came from her direction. Alyson had to clamp down on her own emotions to keep from revealing the assistant’s secret. Sharon had a crush on her boss. No wonder she worried excessively over the reverend’s possible displeasure.

Haight scratched the back of his head. “This place will be filling up pretty soon, and I believe we need to hammer out the final details. If you don’t mind retiring to my office for lunch, Sharon will make sure your intern is fed.” Alyson relaxed slightly. Maybe this would be easier than she thought.

Until Logan inserted himself between her and the sect leader. “Where Miss Tribideaux goes, I go.”

Haight frowned. “Just what are you insinuating, young man?”

“Logan! I’m so sorry, Reverend—”

“I think you know exactly what I’m stating,” Logan growled. “Starting with Hollywood and leading to Peru.”

Sharon clapped her hand over her mouth.

Instead of the fury Alyson half-expected, Haight shook his head sadly. “Our mission is to find lost souls and show them the light. Those men you refer to in California weren’t doing our Lord’s work, son. They did terrible things. They were caught. They were punished.”

“What about the ones who escaped to Peru?”

Alyson blinked. She’d only discovered the incident with the actress. There were others?

“We certainly don’t condone the brutal murders of those other two women in Los Angeles. It is my understanding the United States government asked to extradite our former members who allegedly committed the crimes. However, Peruvian law enforcement has yet to apprehend them.” Haight exhaled noisily. “And before you ask your next question, I’ll give you the same answer I gave the FBI. No, I have not been in contact with them. I would most definitely turn them into the proper authorities. However, I sincerely doubt they would dare show their faces here.”

“Because you’d punish them?”

Haight’s heated gaze could have melted steel. “Because one of the women they are accused of murdering was our order’s prophet.”

* * *

Alyson retrieved the bags for her laptop and printer out of the coat closet before Haight led her to his private office. Logan obviously wasn’t happy about the arrangement, but he kept his mouth shut as she walked away. Once Haight closed the office door, she held up her hand.

“Before we go any further, I want to apologize for Logan’s behavior.”

“My dear, if I got upset at every accusation thrown our way, I would have given myself a brain aneurysm years ago.” He held out a chair for her at a tiny table on the other side of the room from his desk. The wide window showed a panoramic view of the valley with the town of Tuttle Creek nestled by its namesake. She took the proffered seat and studied his private space.

The museum metaphor carried over into his office. Another prehistoric fossil embedded in basalt adorned the wall behind his desk chair. It was a smaller version of the dinosaur on the mantel in the receiving area, but with the appropriate four limbs. A bookcase overflowed with tomes on Paleozoic archeology. Framed fossilized footprints from millions of years ago hung on the opposite wall.

When he took the seat across from her, she continued, “I want you to know I have no intentions of dredging up dirt. You’re one of several groups I’m filming—”

Haight held up his hands. “Stop right there.” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “A documentary should give an unflinching portrayal, shouldn’t it?”

His candor threw her off the speech she’d mentally rehearsed. “Yes, it should.”

“Then you need to include our problems as well.” His expression turned grim. “I’m not happy about the terrible acts performed by some of our former members, but they happened. If you ignore it, you’re integrity will be called into question, Miss Tribideaux. If I ignore it, the odds are something similar could occur again.”

He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes before he laid his spectacles on the table and returned his attention to her. “All I ask is that you don’t sensationalize those terrible things the way the tabloids have. Please stick to the facts.” His earnest look was so endearing. He reminded her of the parish priest back home.

“You mentioned one of your own was a victim,” she said softly.

He nodded. “Jane Chevrette. Before we go forward with this project…” He stared out the window for a moment. “She was…very important to me. I won’t ask you to remove any mention of her, but please don’t mention her gift. People already don’t think much of us. I don’t want her name disparaged.”

She hesitated. “May I ask a few questions off the record?”

“Testing me?” One graying eyebrow rose above the rim of his glasses.

Alyson inhaled. Grief spiced his scent, but there was no hint of deception. “No. I want us both to be comfortable about this project, but it sounds like Ms. Chevrette was more than a colleague.”

He slowly removed his frames before he stared out the window overlooking the valley. “Yes, she was much more to me than just a fellow in faith.” When he turned back to Alyson, she could describe the glint in his eyes as murderous. “If I could wreak vengeance on the people who killed her, I would,” he said.

Logan’s earlier words chilled her. “Did you go to Peru?”

He blinked and sighed before he replaced his glasses. “No, but I did make some enquiries through non-government channels. The people responsible for my Jane’s death are no longer in that country, and I cannot…reach them at the moment.”

“If you know where they are, why don’t you call the FBI?”

The slightest smiles curved his lips. “May I ask you a question in turn, Ms. Tribideaux?”

“Of course.”

“When a werewolf is killed in a dominance fight, do you report the death to the Normal authorities?”

Her lungs refused to work. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He waved a hand. “This is off the record, isn’t it?”

She nodded slowly. The old fear of discovery continued to punch her in the gut, making it difficult to breathe. “Did you really think I’d let a stranger onto this property without learning everything about her?”

What should she do? Laugh it off? Run? And how the hell had he discovered her secret?

What Haight had said about his lover, girlfriend or whatever she was to him being the group’s prophet finally registered in Alyson’s brain. “Ms. Chevrette wasn’t Normal.”

The reverend’s smile was sad. He leaned his elbows on the table as he regarded Alyson. “No. She wasn’t. And yes, I do know about your world. You have nothing to fear from me. Part of conventional seminary training is learning to keep your parishioners secrets as long as they are not a danger to themselves or to someone else. I have no problem extending the same courtesy to a business partner.”

“Let get this straight. You’re asking me to not out Jane as a supernatural and in return, you won’t out me as one?”

Haight chuckled. “When you put it that way, it sounds more like blackmail than a negotiation.”

If her father were here, he’d kill Haight outright because he knew the truth about. While the reverend’s offer did sound like blackmail, she could understand him wanting to protect someone he cared about. Alyson nodded. “Your terms are acceptable, Reverend.”

“As long as that particular term isn’t in the contract.”

Alyson rested her own elbows on the table. “And how do you propose to enforce that particular clause if it’s not in the contract?”

“I guess we’ll just have to trust one another,” he said.

She considered his statement for a moment. The clause really couldn’t be in a contract that another Normal might see. But the thought of following pack protocol made her stomach rebel. And if she did follow protocol, exactly how would she get out of the ranch alive? Not to mention, who had Haight already told her secret to?

“I guess so, too.” She reached down and pulled her laptop out of its bag. “I have my standard contract. If you want any additional changes—”

“Let’s get some food before we start. No sense continuing our negotiations on an empty stomach.”

As if she were waiting for a cue, Sharon entered with a tray. She set the two salads and bowls of strawberries before them, along with glasses and a pitcher of ice tea.

“Ring me if you need anything else.” She bounced out the door, obviously in a much better mood. Alyson wondered how much her improved demeanor was due to Logan.

And immediately squished the thought faster than a summer mosquito.

“I’ll need releases from the Sunshine Believers members I film.”

“That won’t be a problem. Most of our folks have agreed, but there’s a few that have said they don’t want to be a part of your project. I know you’ll respect their wishes.” Haight reached over and patted her hand, a fatherly gesture. “I trust you to do the right thing.”

She relaxed a bit and brought up the contract form on her laptop screen. Maybe her anxiety had nothing to do with this project and everything to do with the werewolf on the other side of the door.

* * *

Logan watched the rest of the diners as he poked at the rabbit food before him. Occasionally, one of the group would look his way before muttering to the person next to him or her.

“Lunch isn’t to your liking?” Sharon’s expression no longer had the fretfulness it had when he and Alyson first arrived.

He smiled. Or tried to. The motion felt unnatural and stiff after the last four years.

It didn’t earlier when you were talking to the pretty were, the voice in the back of his mind reminded. The voice that was beginning to sound more and more like his therapist.

“I’m more of a meat and potatoes kind of guy,” he murmured politely.

Sharon frowned. “I can have the kitchen fry a soy burger for you.”

“No, thanks. I appreciate the thought though.” He laid his fork aside. “You said you recently joined the Sunshine Believers. When was that?”

“It will be two years next month.” She took a sip of her tea. “I can honestly say Fred Haight saved my life.”

“How so?” He didn’t have to feign curiosity. The attitudes here reminded him of pack mentality. A tight-knit group with a healthy suspicion of an outsider.

She blushed, a hard one compared to earlier. The woman obviously adored her boss. Even a Normal could get that without detecting the rose undertone to her scent. “I became addicted to painkillers after a car accident. My sister dragged me to rehab twice. It didn’t help.”

Sharon stared at the dead garden outside of their window. “He found me in Cheyenne, homeless, trading sex for oxycontin. I’m not proud of myself. If it weren’t for Reverend Haight, I’d be dead or worse. I can’t really explain how he did it. He used mainly talk therapy, which never worked before when I was in rehab, but he cured me.” She face Logan again. “I’m clean. He gave me a decent job. A purpose.”

He inclined his head toward the rest of the dining room. “What about everyone else?”

She smiled. “Everybody has their own story. None are the same. Some were adrift spiritually. Some lost their homes in the last economic downturn and had nowhere else they could go. Some were addicts like me or had other problems with the law.”

“He sounds like saint.”

Sharon’s expression sharpened. “He’s a good man, but he’s just a man. I know what the people in Tuttle Creek say about him, but they don’t bother to get to know any of us either.”

“Actually, all I’ve heard and seen are good things.”

Her eyes widened and she blinked. “Oh. Like what?”

Suspicion ran deep in this woman. But then, it had taken the folks in Tuttle Creek a little time to accept the Goldsteins and him as well.

“I work with Avery at the feed mill. He’s the hardest worker there. Always on time for his shift. Always polite. You don’t see that much in kids these days.” Logan reached for a roll from the nearby bread basket. “Carol at the general store says the same thing about Maddy. And she’s quite pleased that Haight insists Maddy, Avery, and the other kids get their high school diplomas.”

Pink spread across Sharon’s cheeks again. This time, the scent of yeast and flour spilled from her, as if she were as fresh-baked as the roll in his hand. “I didn’t realize you—”

“Knew a couple of y’all?” He grinned. “Now who’s makin’ assumptions?”

Her laugh was self-deprecating. “I apologize for my attitude. I guess I’m so used to being looked down on or my decisions questioned. It didn’t occur to me I was doing the same thing.”

He shrugged. “It happens to all of us at times.”

Sharon leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “You’re not really her intern, are you?”

* * *

“The man who came with you isn’t really your intern, is he?” Haight stared at Alyson with an unblinking gaze.

She hesitated for a moment. She didn’t want to damage her relationship with the reverend. Not after they’d hammered out the contract and he’d signed it. “I’m afraid half the town insisted someone escort me to your compound.”

He shook his head. “After this time, they’re still afraid.”

“I don’t think it’s you so much as me, sir.” She took a nervous sip of her tea. “I’m the stranger. Worse, I’m a tenderfoot. They’re afraid I’ll get myself eaten.”

“Eaten?” His eyes widened.

“Mayor Newlin and the sheriff think there’s a large wild predator a little too close to town.”

“A wild predator?” Concern flashed across Haight’s mien. “This is the first I heard of any incident.”

She shrugged and waved an airy hand. “Some hunters found a dead elk torn up in a mountain meadow. If Logan hadn’t driven me here, the mayor or Doctor Goldstein were going to.” She smiled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say my father hired them all to keep an eye on me. Honestly, I think the town officials were trying to scare me.”

Her statement only increased the furrows of worry on the reverend’s forehead. “Because you were meeting with me?”

“More like trying to scare the big city girl.” Alyson laughed. “Which is ridiculous considering New Orleans is surrounded by gators.”

Haight chuckled as well. “So your father protects you from these gators?”

“No, he tries to keep away far more dangerous predators.” She leaned closer and mock whispered, “Men.”

* * *

Logan smiled at Sharon. “You found me out.”

“A lie’s not a way to make a good impression.” Despite her admonition, she returned his smile.

“You know what it’s like with the tourists. They come up here, unprepared, and they think it’s a zoo or amusement park.” He rolled his eyes and leaned back. “Remember those hikers that got caught in the snowstorm last spring and died of hypothermia?”

She nodded.

He jabbed a thumb in the direction Haight had escorted Alyson. “It’s the beginning of winter, and she’s up here with a designer coat, six hundred-dollar boots, and no chains for her tires.” He shrugged. “She’s staying in Old Roy Cole’s rental cabin, so he asked me to keep an eye on her. Last thing we need is for some rich bitch to drive her pansy-assed rental off the side of the mountain.”

“So why the lie?”

“Probably to preserve her dignity by pretending she’s in charge.” He shrugged again. “I don’t really give a shit what she says.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “I prefer a real woman to some city slicker any day.”

Red flooded Sharon’s face. “I-I’m flattered, but…” She took a large drink of her water.

“That’s okay.” He smiled. “I didn’t realize you and the reverend—”
“No!” Her outburst drew the attention of the remaining diners. “I mean, um, there isn’t anything between him and me.”

Logan straightened. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re a very attractive woman. I had to ask.”

Her blush deepened. “Well, that’s, um, very flattering, Mr. Polk—”

“It’s Logan,” he corrected gently.

“Logan.” She cleared her throat, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Like I said it’s flattering, but I’m still working on my sobriety. It’s best if I don’t get involved with any one.” Her gaze flicked to him and back down to her hands. “I hope you understand.”

“I do.” The problem was he really did. In his case, it wasn’t drugs, but his damn anxiety attacks. “Again, I apologize fore making you uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

She scooted back her chair and stood. “If you’re finished eating, why don’t we go find the reverend and Ms. Tribideaux?”

Logan rose as well and laid his napkin on his chair. “That’s a good idea.”

* * *

Amusement filled Reverend Haight’s face. “If I had a daughter as beautiful as you, protecting her would be a full time job.”

Alyson laughed to cover her discomfort. Why the hell was she bringing up such a personal subject with this man? But talking to him felt so comfortable, like she had known him all her life.

“Well, the other side is he wants to see me married, so he’s been parading a ton of associates’ sons through our h
ouse. But I’m not ready to settle down. My career is just starting to take off.”
Haight poured more ice tea into her glass. “And you want to establish your reputation before having a family.”

“Yes.” She took another drink. “It’s not that I don’t want family…”

“I agree with you.” He lifted his own glass. “Sow your wild oats before you have children to worry about. Here’s to finding yourself before finding a mate.”

She raised her own glass and clinked it against his. “To finding ourselves.” She took a sip before she waved her hand to indicate the compound. “Is this sanctuary about finding yourself?”

He chuckled. “No, I’m well past my…oats stage.” His expression turned somber. “This about protecting my family, and the Sunshine Believers are my family.” He took another sip of his tea. “There’s a dynamic that some family units have and others don’t. It makes the difference of whether the unit can remain together after a family tragedy.

“I know most of the public doesn’t believe this, but the things that happened, the terrible crimes some of our membership committed, had the same effect on our organization as it does when a member of a nuclear family unit does those same types of acts. And the same questions go through our heads. Why didn’t we see it? What could we have done differently?”

He took a deep breath and blew it out. “The best I can do is give my people some space to deal with those questions, even as I still struggle with them.”

“Would you mind if I ask about Jane and what kind of role she played?”

A sad smile appeared on Haight’s face. “Jane had the gift of foresight. I know most people would think she was a scam artist, but…too many things she saw came true for me not to believe her.”

Alyson pushed condensation down the side of her glass as she considered her next question. “If Jane was precognitive—”

“Why didn’t she foresee the problems?” His smile turned wry. “In the case of the actress, she did. She warned the men not to do something stupid, and they assured her they wouldn’t. Unfortunately, she believed she carried more influence over them than she did. By the time, we learned they had gone through with their plans, well…”

He shrugged. “The authorities arrived at our property before Jane and I did. They rescued the woman, and I was questioned about the matter.”

Alyson frowned. “Why wasn’t Jane questioned?”

“I told her to take our car and leave. There was no sense both of us ending up in jail.” Haight shrugged again. “She was the real leader of the Sunshine Believers after the disaster of that actress’s kidnapping. Or she was until she was murdered.”

“Was her gift the reason for her murder?”

“I believe it was. The extremists knew Jane would go to the police if she learned they planned additional crimes.” A tentative smile crossed his lips. “I’m sure you find the whole story ridiculous.”

“Reverend,” she said as she reached over and covered his hand with hers. “Like I said, I’m from New Orleans, the American voodoo capital. I’ve enough strange things in life to know there’s more to the universe than we poor mortals understand.”

He smiled widened. “I know that as well, Alyson.”

A shiver ran up her spine, and she tried to release as quickly as she could with obviously jerking it away. The echo of Roy’s warning yesterday morning ran through her mind. Her inner wolf said there was something off about Fred Haight. Something neither her human side nor her canine side could lay a paw on.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Ravaged - Chapter 5

Oops! I got so totally caught up in writing Sacrificed over the weekend (which is actually a good thing, right?), I forgot to post the next chapter for yesterday.

So to my wonderful readers, sorry about that!

* * *

Chapter 5

Logan blinked in surprise as he pulled into the drive of Cole’s rental at ten-fifty-eight a.m. The pack princess promptly walked out of her cabin with a couple of bags full of equipment slung over her shoulders.

Or maybe it shouldn’t be surprising. She didn’t want to give him an excuse to see where she slept, which fit more with her prickly disposition.

Not that he wanted to see it.

Liar, said the wolf inside him.

“You want this in the back?” she called the second he braked.

“Yeah.” By the time he turned off the ignition and jumped out of his Jeep, she had the rear door open and had wrestled the larger canvas bag inside.

“I could have helped,” he grumbled. So much for his effort to mend fences between their packs. A surly cub caught in the throes of puberty had a better disposition.

“I’m used to it.” A tentative smile crossed her face. “I can’t afford an assistant yet.”

He slammed the back door shut. “Not even a college intern desperate to work for free in the movie business?”

“I’m on the road a lot. There’s still travel expenses, room and board to deal with. It’s not fair to drag some kid around the country and make her pay her own way.” She turned and headed for the passenger door.

Something didn’t make sense. He climbed into the Jeep. “Not that it’s my business, but didn’t your parents set up a trust fund for you?”

One slim dark eyebrow rose. “You’re right. It is none of your business.” She turned and faced the windshield and sighed. “So many people lost everything in Katrina, not just the pack. I asked Papa to dissolve the trust and use the funds.”

“You couldn’t have been more than knee-high.” He flipped on the ignition.

“Old enough to understand what happens when the levees fail, Mr. Polk.”

He almost leaned over to brush his shoulder against hers in comfort. Probably not the best idea considering their conversation yesterday. Instead, he reached for the gearshift. “Were you able to get out?”

“Yes.” Her voice carried so much sorrow. “My Aunt Francine led a caravan of the pregnant women and pups to Houston. Papa and the rest of the pack tried to secure our boats and equipment. We still lost three quarters of what the pack owned.”

He did a J-turn and headed back down the drive. “I can’t imagine rebuilding from that.” Sweat trickled down his spine. He hadn’t lost anything in his life except his self-respect, and he couldn’t even get that back.

“Papa is the heart and soul of the pack. If he believed, then everyone believed.”

What he wouldn’t give to have someone believe in him like that. He blinked stinging drops out of his eyes. “You okay?” she asked.

He glanced at her before he turned and checked for oncoming traffic on the main road. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Why?” She pointedly looked at his hands on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white.

Great. Nothing like an anxiety attack in front of her.

Logan forced a smile. “Sorry. Thinking of how our dads would react if they knew we were in the same vehicle.” Yeah, that was an excellent excuse. Not that he really believed there would be trouble at the Sunshine Believers compound.

She laughed, but it sounded just as forced as his smile. “Yeah, I heard about what happened between them. How about we vow never to tell them we met?”

He pressed the accelerator and turned left. “Sounds like a smart plan. Even Dad’s version about what happened makes them both sound like douchebags.”

“You don’t think it’s romantic fighting for your true love?”

“Romantic? Are you shitting me? It’s one thing to fight to protect your lady. It’s another to fight over a woman like she’s a damn prize.”

Alyson said nothing for the longest time. Had he royally pissed her off with his statement?

He glanced at her, but she didn’t look angry. “Really? Is that how you want to be treated? Like an object to be fucked and brought out to impress other wolves when you’re not popping out pups?”

Still nothing. Her silence wasn’t helping to nerves prickling his skin.

The need to fill the void in the Jeep overwhelmed him. “Bet you haven’t heard my mom’s version of the story.”

“And what’s that? She resents being an object to fuck.” Sharpness tainted her voice. So she was angry after all.

He grinned. “You obviously have not met my mother. She’s nobody’s object. You do know she’s really the San Antonio pack alpha, don’t you?”

“You’re kidding?”

Another glance. Alyson stared at him with rapt attention.

“Hell, no. She left the Dallas pack for the same reason I left San Antonio. Didn’t like the idea of battling the parent to be top wolf.”

She laughed. “In other words, you were afraid your mama would whip your ass.”

“Damn straight, I am. She bluntly told both Dad and René they had a choice. They could each fight her to retain alpha position of their packs. Or they could fight each other for her hand and retain some semblance of dignity. Personally, I think your dad lost on purpose.”

Now, Alyson was laughing so hard tears ran down her cheeks. “Kn-knowing Papa, you’re probably right.” That sent her into another spasm of hilarity.

They rode in companionable quiet for a few minutes before he asked, “So why does a nice wolf like you buy into the Normal myth of Prince Charming?”

And the tension between them slammed back into place.

“Why does a wolf like you resort to pathetic Normal behavior such as stalking?”

“I beg your pardon?”
“I not only saw you, I smelled you. First you ran in front of my Jeep the night I arrived. I nearly hit you on the drive up to the cabin. Then you were standing out by the cabin windbreak this morning around three a.m.”

He frowned. “I admit I watched you when you picked up groceries at Carol’s two days ago. It’s a little surprising to scent another were this late in the season, but I wasn’t anywhere near your cabin until I picked you up—” He looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

“Are there any other weres in the area besides you?”

“No,” he ground out.
“So you want me to believe you weren’t spying on me?”

Her incredulous tone and her accusations irritated him. “Why would I bother? You were the one yesterday who said I had plenty of women after me.”

“I was only repeating what Roy had told me.” She crossed her arms.

“So you’re a gossip, too?” he shot back.

“Shut up. Just shut up,” she snapped.

“Happy to oblige,” he growled.

Only a tomb would have been quieter than the rest of their forty-minute drive.

* * *

Alyson was never more glad to arrive at her destination in her life. The nerve of that man! Maybe she was too human, but her nose worked just fine. She could tell the difference between a were and a regular wolf. And she damn well knew a were smelled the same regardless of which form he wore.

She rolled down the window of Logan’s Jeep, letting in the damp, moldy odor of decaying leaves. The gate to the ranch stood open. Brown remnants of high meadow grass rustled between tiny mounds of snow, but no guards could be heard, much less seen or smelled. Wire fencing was strung between chest-high wooden posts along the drive with occasional bright orange ten-foot poles.

Breaking her oath to never talk to Logan Polk again, she asked, “What are the orange poles for?”

“They’re guides for the plow so the driver doesn’t accidently run into the fence posts,” he said, guiding his Jeep through the open gate. “Last thing you want is cattle and horses escaping in the middle of a blizzard.”

She looked at the orange poles again as the Jeep drove past them. She couldn’t imagine drifts that deep. Snow in New Orleans was a truly rare event. Something to be celebrated as the city shuts down to enjoy the moment. Another pang of homesickness went through her.

They rolled up to a massive one-story log cabin at the end of the driveway. Similar, slightly smaller buildings spread out from the main one. It resembled a rustic ski lodge.

Or a dude ranch. She wasn’t quite sure which effect the Sunshine Believers were going for. According to the information she’s dug up, only the main building had been on the property when Haight’s organization bought the ranch. “Do we just go inside?” Logan said as he cut the engine.

“It’s polite to knock,” she said.
He gave her an odd look as he cut the ignition, and she realized her words had come out sharper than she intended. Except she’d meant them to be cutting, hadn’t she? The bastard had lied about spying on her, hadn’t he?

An attractive brunette burst out of the front door of the lodge, waving. “Ms. Tribideaux?”

Alyson leaned out the window. “Yes?” She took a surreptitious sniff of the woman. Golden delicious. Normal. But something seemed off and she couldn’t figure out what.

The woman smiled. “I’m Sharon Tyson, Reverend Haight’s assistant. You’re a bit early. I can show you around while he finishes his current meeting.” She shifted to peer at Logan. “Will you be back in two hours, or would you prefer I call you when Ms. Tribideaux is ready to leave?”

Before Alyson could stop him, he’d jumped out of the Jeep. He rounded the vehicle and, well, he didn’t push Reverend Haight’s assistant out of the way, but she scurried back at the scowl on his face when he opened the passenger door. “Where would like your camera equipment set up, Ms. Tribideaux?” he said.

She slid out as well. Logan seemed determined to repay this favor by proxy that he owed her. The silence of the ranch bothered her. There wouldn’t be many insects above ground with the current temperature, but there should have been birdsong. For the first time, she was glad of his company.

She waved at the grouchy were. “Sharon, this is my college intern, Logan Polk.” Alyson smiled sweetly at his frowning visage. No question about it. He didn’t like being treated as unpaid help he’d suggested she get. “Just take the equipment bags in with us. I still have to get Reverend Haight’s signature before we start filming.”

She slug her backpack over her shoulder before she turned back to Sharon. “I hope you don’t mind. If our meeting goes as well as I expect, I want to get a jumpstart on my work today.”

“Oh, um…” Sharon’s flummoxed expression would be funny under normal circumstances.

Alyson struggled to keep her own expression nonchalant. It wouldn’t do to piss off the woman. She knew how much power the so-called secretaries and personal assistants really wielded in most organizations.

“I think just carrying it in will be fine.” Sharon shot Logan a worried look. “I’m not sure how the reverend will feel about having an extra guest.”

“As I told him in our letter exchange, I have no intention of painting the Sunshine Believers in a bad light.” Alyson swept her hand in the air to indicate the ranch. “I find what he’s done here quite admirable. I think people need to see what good leadership can do for any organization, not just a religious sect.”

Sharon brightened at the compliment. “That would be so great. I wasn’t a member when things went bad all those years ago.” She lowered her voice. “I heard the stories though. The members of the church at the time were so relieved when those men were caught before they hurt the woman they’d kidnapped in L.A. Human sacrifice is not what we’re about.” A shudder ran through her.

Alyson went for the gracious, socialite smile she’d practiced for years. “Why don’t you show us where we can stow our gear? I’d love to see what all you’ve built here.”

It must have worked. Sharon beamed and said, “Right this way.”

Alyson swallowed her irritation when Logan made a point of carrying the equipment bags. She couldn’t afford to replace anything if he broke something. But it wasn’t worth the pissing contest in front of Sharon after the rocky beginning with Reverend Haight’s assistant.

The interior of the main cabin wasn’t anything like Alyson expected. Humidity weighed down the air. Instead of the blue-collar American, wild west, or native tribal designs she’d seen all over town, the lodge’s great room resembled a Paleozoic museum.

Petrified wood had been carved into various pieces of furniture. Huge potted palms hugged alcoves and corners. Rather than the head of a large hooved, local herbivore hanging over the fireplace, the outline of an eight-point sun had been carved into the stones. Hammered gold filled in the grooves.

Underneath the sun, what appeared to be a skeleton of a tiny dinosaur perched on the mantel, some carnivorous variety from its jagged teeth and the prominent ripping talons on each of its limbs. The relic was posed in such a way it almost appeared alive and ready to pounce on its next victim.

Alyson took a closer look. Instead of the requisite four limbs, the skeleton had eight. She waved to indicate the figure. “Is this a particular species native to Montana?”

Nervous laughter burbled from Sharon. “No. Our symbol used to be an eight-legged lizard over a star. After the problems in L.A. and the negative connotation reptilian species have in America, Reverend Haight decided to simplify the emblem.” She pointed at the gold design. “Now, it’s just the eight-point star.”

“But the skeleton?” Alyson raised an eyebrow.

More nervous laughter. “One of the teens was fooling around with fossils and animal bones. Reverend Haight thought it was cute, so he put it up on the mantel.”

The ashy smell of fear wafted from Sharon. But fear of what? Being judged for having bones in a worship space? Many shamanistic religions as well as the Catholic Church held bones as religious objects.

Or was it fear of bringing Child Protection Services down on the compound? Anything in U.S. society that wasn’t WASP-ish was immediately suspect in a large swath of the country.

Or was it as simple as fearing her boss’s temper? What if Fred Haight’s views weren’t as far removed from his jailed compatriots’ opinions as he wanted the outside world to believe?

Whatever it was, Alyson knew if she pushed, the assistant would clam up. Best to give it time, wait until the members of Sunshine Believers trusted her.

Sharon led them to what she called a coat closet. The space was the size of the cabin Alyson rented from Roy. Once their gear was stowed and coats hung, Sharon led them around the main building. The place was more like a spa than a religious center. Massage rooms, a sauna, and meditation spaces were interconnected by a brook diverted through the building. The water feature even had tadpoles and tiny fish swimming in it.

While Sharon kept her manner upbeat and cheerful, she kept shooting nervous glances in Logan’s direction. Maybe the woman subconsciously picked up on his alpha dominance though he took pains to remain in the background as they toured the facility.

Sharon swept into a large room with a series of tables with white cotton cloths covering them. “This is our communal dining area. We serve a completely vegan diet, and we grow a majority of our food.”

“Vegan?” Disbelief twisted Logan’s brow.

Sharon tilted her chin in a defiant manner at his question. “It’s a healthier lifestyle and much better for the environment.”

Alyson took a deep breath, as much to test Logan’s doubt as to prepare to smooth over Sharon’s ruffled feathers. She caught the faintest odor of Normal blood. Underneath it was a whiff of something else familiar that she often detected in conjunction with the coppery scent. A combination she only smelled when Papa returned from a meeting with the vampire representative of New Orleans. “Is that sandalwood I’m smelling?”

“I’m afraid so. We burn incense during services.” Sharon’s expression became alarmed. “You’re not allergic, are you?”

“Oh, no. It just reminds me of—” Alyson caught herself. “Someone I know back in Louisiana who wears a lot sandalwood cologne.” She forced a chuckle.

A soft chime rang, and Sharon jumped. “That’s Reverend Haight. Wait here please, and I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.” She dart out the door.

“We need to get you out of here,” Logan murmured.

“Why?” Alyson crossed her arms.

“Can’t you smell it?” He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Neither scent is from a tree.”

She rolled her eyes. “Has it occurred to you there’s a simpler explanation? As in one of the women here is having her period? And you can’t be sure it isn’t incense and not—” She glanced around herself. “The other thing.” If he didn’t say “vampire”, she wasn’t about to either.

His jaw muscles clenched so hard they stood out in sharp relief under his skin. “You can’t tell me you think she’s acting in an ordinary manner.”

Sharon’s behavior bothered her more than she wanted admit to Logan, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right either. “Maybe if you’d stop glowering at her like the big, bad wolf, she wouldn’t be so nervous around us.”

“I don’t think I’m the one she’s afraid of.” He glowered more.

“Has it occurred to you that if something is going on here, she’s more likely to open up to me?” Alyson said softly. “Without you being so…intense?”

Slowly, his shoulders relaxed before he inclined his head. “You’re right. I get a little…” Rotten citrus tainted the air. His anxiety had to be incredible.

His admission made her feel a little sympathetic. If even half of what Aunt Francine had insinuated last night were true, Alyson understood Logan’s jumpiness at the sandalwood odor. “Weird about them?” She gave him the slightest of smiles. “I totally understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he growled.

Mother Wolf, she’d really stepped into it, hadn’t she? But there really wasn’t a point in lying. He knew who she was, and that she knew who he was.

Alyson let her arms drop to her sides, and lowered her voice even more. “All I mean is I’d be nervous too if I were the only one of our people who survived Selene Antonius’s little shop of horrors.”

His nostrils flared, and his fists clenched. For a moment, she feared she’d made the wrong choice. If he lost control here in a compound of Normals, they were both in deep shit.

Instead of sprouting fur, he closed his eyes and quietly counted, “Ich, nie, san, shi…” When he reached what she assumed was ten, his shoulders had relaxed and his skin had smoothed.

His eyes slowly opened. “You know.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I’m sorry for questioning you. You’d know before now if there are any of them living in Tuttle Creek, which is why I didn’t want to jump to conclusions when I smelled the sandalwood and blood.”

He shook his head. “You’re right. There isn’t any of them nearby.” He leaned closer to her ear and murmured, “Closest vamps I know of are a couple living in Billings.”

She cocked her head. “Literally two?”

He grinned. “No, literally a couple. Ever hear of Toni Wells?”

“The romance writer?” Alyson stopped short of gushing over her favorite author. “I’ve heard of her,” she said coolly. “Joni and Thomas Wellington.”

She snapped her fingers. “So that’s why their Ancient Nights Convention is held up here in the middle of winter.”

“No, you’re not a fan at all,” he drawled.

For once, she didn’t get angry at his teasing. In fact, she kind of liked it.

* * *

Fury ripped through Marcus Giovanni as he watched the video feed from the Sunshine Believers dining room. If it weren’t the middle of the day, he’d charge up there, rip off the wolf’s head himself, and ship it to Alex Stanton.

Or maybe he should ship Polk’s left hand to Stanton.

He held up his arm and stared at the stump. Not even the V-virus’s vaunted healing power could replace a missing limb when it had been cut off by the weapon of a god. Not when he’d left his hand behind, his blood coating the pebbles and soaking into the desert sand. Not when the choice had been his hand or his life.

Maybe daylight was a good thing. It kept him from doing anything stupid like revealing his continued existence. Augustine and the rest of his minions must have assumed he died in the Nazca desert. Let them continue to believe so until it was too late.

No, he needed to lay aside his personal desires and stick to the plan. He wasn’t going to make the same impatient mistakes his grandmother and the lizard demons had made.

His phone buzzed. He thumbed the “Answer” icon. “Yes.”

“Why is the male werewolf with the filmmaker?” Haight sounded curious.

Not who was he, but why. “Maybe word got out about your little stunt in Seattle.” As much as it burned Marcus to say it, he added, “Leave this one alone.”

Marcus wanted to yell in exasperation, but Haight didn’t think like he did. The idiot was too worried about short-term results. “He’s here to protect the female. She’s a pack princess from Rousseau’s territory, but she’s in Augustine’s now. Something happens to her, and you’re going to have more trouble on top of you than you know what to do with.”

“And why would I be afraid of some vampires?”

“You know what happened in Peru.”

Faint static was the only sound for almost a minute. “You and your people need to stay where you are until she leaves.”

“I wasn’t planning on coming out until after sunset,” Marcus muttered sourly.

“No, stay there until she’s finished filming.”

Haight’s statement confounded him. “You’re really going to allow her access to the entire compound?”

“No, just most of it. When she presents a lovely view of our church, it will attract more lost souls. Fresh human blood will quench your thirst far better than the occasional elk, wouldn’t it?”

Despite himself, his mouth began to water. “Yes, it would.”

“Stay where you are. I will notify you when she leaves.” The signal abruptly cut out.

Marcus leaned back in his chair. Now, why was Haight so damn interested in the Tribideaux bitch?

Monday, April 10, 2017

Ravaged - Chapter 4

Logan glared at Sarah as he jabbed a steak off the platter. “Why didn’t you tell me her name last night?”

“I did!”

“You only told me her first name.”

“I couldn’t pronounce her last name. She said it too fast, and it was in some weird language. Alyson was the only part I caught.” Sarah glared right back.

Normally, he’d be ecstatic seeing the scarred girl stand up for herself, but not this time. Not when it came at his expense with a large political price tag. “First of all, French is not weird. Secondly, her father, René Tribideaux, is the packmaster of New Orleans. Third, do you have any idea have much shit would be stirred up if he knew I was within a hundred miles of his daughter?”

For the first time, Aaron looked worried. “I wasn’t aware there a blood feud between the San Antonio and New Orleans packs.”

Logan was sure the disgust he felt was reflected on his face. “Not per se. Mainly two alphas and their super-huge egos.”

“What did your father and René get into a snit fit about?” Esther prompted.

He didn’t want to go into family history with the Goldsteins, but all three looked at him expectantly. “They fought over my mom.”

“Like, literally, fought over your mom?” Sarah’s eyes widened.

“Yep.” He forked a baked potato onto his plate.

“That’s so romantic.” She sighed dreamily.

“No, it’s not. Especially not with werewolves. One of them should have wound up dead. My dad didn’t want to take on the New Orleans pack as well as his own. That’s the reason he let Tribideaux live. For us, getting your ass beat and being allowed to trot off with your tail tucked between your legs is embarrassing as hell.”

“Logan,” Esther said softly. “Language.”

He slammed down his fork. “She needs to understand how the world works.”

“You think I don’t know.” Sarah yanked up the sleeves of her sweater. Under the dining room chandelier, long white scars glistened along the length of her forearms. Even Aaron and Esther’s skills as healers could only do so much on the months-old damage once Augustine’s team had pulled the survivors out of that hell hole.

Sarah bared her teeth at Logan. “Tell me again how the world works, Mr. Polk.” She shoved back her chair, the pine feet screeching against the oak floor, and she raced from the room. Pounding on the stairs was followed by the slam of her bedroom door.

A lump burned in his throat. It had been a while since he’d screwed up that badly with Sarah. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Esther laid her hand over his fist. Only then did he realize the tension thrumming through his body. The rapid pulse in his ears.

“She pushed. You pushed back. Which is a switch in both of your behaviors.” Esther’s smile was sad, weary even. “Dr. Plinkman said we all needed to be patient with each other. I’ll take this as a positive sign.”

“It’s been almost four years,” he murmured.

“You can’t set a time limit on emotional damage, Logan.” Aaron rested his utensils on the side of his plate. “My daughter makes a good point though. Maybe you’re not using your parents as an excuse with Ms. Tribideaux, though it is a good reason to keep your distance. However, you’ve also avoided any were that’s passed through Tuttle Creek for the last four summers. Sarah’s making plans for school next fall. She’s moving on. As much as we love having you here, it’s time for you to move on with your life, too.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Aaron was right. Hell, even Alyson Tribideaux was right. He was hiding in Tuttle Creek. He had a choice to make. Find a mate and start a new pack.

Or go home to Texas and take a lower-ranked place under his father because he wasn’t about to fight his sire for pack dominance.

But if he was going to be a fucking beta, maybe fixing the old feud between the Polks and Tribideauxs was a good place to start.

* * *

Alyson jerked awake, unsure of what had roused her. She checked her recharging phone. Three a.m. local time. She scanned the small bedroom. Nothing. Not even the proverbial mouse.

Flinging the comforter aside, she slid out of the high mattress and padded over to the door. There wasn’t any sound in the main part of the cabin.

Hinges squeaked when she pulled on the lever and peered through the opening. Moonlight spilled in silver squares along the rugs and hardwood floor. It was still two days before the full moon, but her skin tingled at the sight. She crossed the living space. Embers glowed dully under the grate, but no burning scent indicating one had escaped through the screen guarding the fireplace.

Outside, the few remaining patches of snow gleamed. But there was nothing—

A shadow shifted near the pines that served as a windbreak on the west side of the cabin. The silhouette of a wolf stepped from behind a trunk, as if it knew she was watching. Branches provided enough gloom that she couldn’t make out the coloring.

Was it a wild wolf? Or was it the same were that had darted in front of her Jeep last night? Was it Logan Polk?

Alyson cracked open the front door, and a burst of frigid air blew past her along with the odor of the stranger. From his scent, he was the same wolf who’d nearly caused her accident last night. The same scent of the man who’d sat beside her at breakfast. The shadow wolf darted to the ridge, then looked over his shoulder, daring her to follow him. Francine’s warning blared in her mind. While the urge to shift and run under the moon with him was tempting, something deep inside her said to listen to her aunt. She closed the door and locked it, waiting to see what he would do.

The wolf stood on the ridge for an hour. Or it could have been merely a second. His tail wagged once before he trotted off and disappeared from sight.

She sagged against the door. Was Francine right? Was Logan Polk so damaged he could only be friendly in his animal form? Had he been spying on her the whole time? She hadn’t bothered closing the curtains because she believed she was isolated from everyone up here.

Maybe there was another problem. Maybe the reason she clung to her romantic fantasies was from her own emotional damage. Maybe she was so damaged thanks to her mother and her father’s problems she would never be a suitable mate for anyone.

Maybe she was the one who was far too broken for Logan Polk.

Monday, April 3, 2017

Ravaged - Chapter 3

In case you haven't noticed while reading the sample chapters, the book hasn't been proofed yet. It will be before it's released.

Also, if you see the stats on your right, I blew past the 80K mark last week. That means Ravaged will be closer to 90K by the time editing is done.

* * *


By the time Alyson stalked back to the clinic, she realized she hadn’t confronted Polk about running in front of her Jeep last night. Roy immediately distracted her by insisting on taking her to lunch for making her wait. Or that Doctor Goldstein had made her wait, he’d muttered with a pointed dirty look aimed at the bemused physician, who mouthed, “Thank you,” to Alyson as she left with her landlord.

This time, he took her to a bar called the Next to the Last Buffalo. Once they were seated in a booth and the waiter had taken their orders, she asked him about the naming conventions for the town’s eateries.

He chuckled. “According to the story, Last Buffalo was a cavalryman who’d gone native after the Civil War—”

“You mean the War of Northern Aggression,” she said, reaching for her soda as their waiter set the drinks down.

“My story, my names, Missy.” Roy waggled a finger at her. “Anyway, after the Civil War…” He eyed her.

Alyson smiled and kept her mouth shut.

“Alfred Tuttle hired Last Buffalo to help negotiate the land for his town and keep the peace. Later, Last Buffalo married a Chinese woman. Well, no one in town could pronounce her name, so everyone called her Next to Last Buffalo.”

“And nobody gave them any grief over—” She cleared her throat.

One of his bushy eyebrows rose. “You mean the miscegenation laws at the time?”

She nodded.
“Naw.” Roy leaned back against the booth seat. “Like I said, people here pretty much leave you alone as long as you keep your nose clean.”

“As long as you’re not a favor to be traded,” she said bitterly.


Alyson relayed her conversation with the shirtless Logan to Roy, though she left out any mention of the shirtless part.

The old man shook his head. “Ain’t like him to be rude like that.” He leaned his elbows on the Formica tabletop. “Though honestly, him escorting you over to the Haight ranch would be even better than the doc. He’s a tough one.”

“After he failed to protect Sarah Goldstein?”

“I don’t think Logan was hired until after she’d been kidnapped.” Again, he waggled his index finger. “And you shouldn’t rely on an old man’s gossip.”

The waiter delivered their sandwiches, and Roy turned the conversation to her work. But the image of the shirtless Logan Polk teased her libido all the way home.

* * *

By the time they returned to Alyson’s cabin, most of the snow had melted. After Roy headed back up the mountain to his house, she spent a few hours looking through the books the librarian Marvin had pulled for her. She ended up pulling out a pad of sticky notes and jotted down questions to take with her.

Dinner with the Newlin brothers turned into a pleasant affair with productive interviews despite the odd décor of modern hunter and pink leopard print unnerving her. What little Marvin didn’t know, Mayor Tad filled in. During a lull in the conversation while Marvin served dessert, Tad asked, “Is someone going with you out to the Haight ranch tomorrow?”

Alyson met his concerned gaze with a bold stare of her own. “Why is everyone so concerned about me going to the Haight ranch by myself? What aren’t y’all telling me?”

Tad’s expression turned grave. “It’s not so much him and his people. At least, the sheriff doesn’t think so.”

“Then what?”

“A couple of weeks ago up at Last Buffalo Meadow, some hunters stumbled across an elk carcass ripped to shreds with all the meat left there. It’s between Old Man Cole’s property and the Haight Ranch.”

She shrugged. “The town is pretty close to Yellow Stone. You sure it’s not just a wolf pack or a cougar, and these hunters scared off the predator?”

Tad shook his head. “I’ve seen both types of kills. And I did a stint with the Marines. This looked more like someone took an automatic rifle to the elk and unloaded a full clip on it.”

“I’m telling you someone’s messing with people around here,” Marvin said as he set bowls of blueberry pie a la mode in front of Alyson and his brother. He set his fists on his hips. “Go on, tell her what the tracks looked like.”

Tad’s cheeks and ears turned bright red. “Doctor O’Connell was just offering an observation.”

Marvin turned to her. “Our resident retired paleontologist says the tracks around the carcass were caused by a velociraptor.”

Tad rolled his eyes. “And everyone knows the man grows his own weed.”

Marvin shrugged and marched back into the kitchen.

Tad coughed discretely. “I’ll clear my meetings tomorrow afternoon and take you up there, Miss Alyson.”

“That’s all right.” She gave the mayor a wry smile. “My landlord conned Logan Polk into acting as my escort.”

“Good.” Marvin slid into his chair. “That’s a nice long ride for you two to get to know each other.” He winked at Alyson before taking a bite of his dessert.

“Marvin, we have a guest,” Tad hissed.

“Not my fault that boy needs to get laid before he has a mental breakdown.”

His brother gasped. “Really?” He turned to Alyson. “God, I’m so sorry. Please don’t put that in your film.”

Marvin shook his spoon at his brother. “Well, according to Wade, she’s the first one to flick Logan’s Bic since he moved here.” The librarian leaned closer and laid a hand on her sweater sleeve. “I’ve been telling these idiots for three years and eight months he doesn’t swing my way. Believe me, if he did, I would have snapped him up in a heartbeat. And if you ever see him without a shirt, you’ll understand why.”

Heat flooded her face at the reminder of her second encounter with the mysterious Logan Polk.

“Oh, girlfriend already has!” Marvin laughed. “Tell me, is his ass as delectable without his jeans as it is with jeans?”

“I don’t know,” Alyson mumbled. She shoved a spoonful of blueberries and vanilla ice cream in her mouth. Because part of her really wanted to find out what Logan’s naked ass felt like under her palms.

* * *

When Alyson returned to her cabin, the bright blue clock numbers on the kitchenette’s microwave reminded her about the time difference between Tuttle Creek and New Orleans. And that she’d forgotten to check in with Aunt Francine.

She ditched her coat before she unsnapped the side pocket on her backpack and pulled out her satellite phone. Papa had complained about her extravagance, but the device had been the best investment next to her digital video camera, the laptop and the software she used for editing.

It took a few seconds for the call to ring through. A wave of homesickness hit her at Aunt Francine’s dulcet, “Evening, cherie. What can I do you for?”

“Can you ship me a dozen beignets?” She crossed the rental cabin’s living room to the bedroom.

Laughter chimed through the receiver. “If you want sweets, ma petite, you need to come home. And you need to call your papa."

Alyson groaned as flung herself on the platform bed. “I called him last night as soon as I unloaded everything. I’m not a little girl. Why is he so overprotective of me?”

More laughter. “He’ll be like this until you find a good wolf to settle down with and raise a basket full of pups. Now, tell me what’s wrong.” Leave it to Francine to ferret out Alyson’s real feelings.

“This is an information call because you will tell me the truth and not blow this out of proportion.” Alyson sucked a deep breath and blew it out. “Do you know a wolf by the name of Logan Polk?”

Silence stretched until she thought she lost the signal. “Aunt Francine?”

“You have met this gentleman?”

“Yeah, this morning. My landlord introduced us.” She wasn’t about to add that Logan sat next to her at breakfast. And she saw him shirtless.

“Are you interested in him, cherie?”

Alyson closed her eyes to keep from making a nasty comment. Logan’s naked torso and incredible abs danced in her mind. “Why does every conversation with my family have to revolve around me finding a mate?”

“Forgive me. It’s just that…you know how your father feels about involving you in politics.”

“Yes, I do. He’s willing to sell me to the highest bidder.”

“That’s not true, child, and you know it.” Francine’s breath whistled across the signal. “He could not make your mama happy. He is simply trying to make sure he succeeds with you.”

The sadness in her aunt’s voice tore at Alyson’s heart, and threatened to throw her in the same depression abyss her mother fell into years ago. Somehow, Alyson dug up a bit of courage. “If he wants me to be happy, then he needs to let me live my life. Now will you please tell me what you know about this Logan person?”

Francine sighed. “All right. He’s the son of the San Antonio packmasters.”

That’s why the name sounded familiar, but she’d been doing her best to ignore any eligible males in the eastern half of the country. “So why didn’t Papa throw him at me?”

Her aunt chuckled. “Because your father and George Polk fought for the hand of Emily Shipley, and your father lost.” Alyson couldn’t imagine her father losing at anything. She also couldn’t imagine him with anyone but Mama either. “But that had to have been decades ago! Papa still holds a grudge?”

“You father holds on to a lot of things he shouldn’t. You especially.”

Alyson stared at the caulk and plank ceiling. “So what do you know about this Logan? According to my landlord, he’s been living here with a witch family for the last four years.”

Another sigh filled the receiver. “Oh, ma petite, he may be too broken for you to pursue.”

“Who said anything about pursuing him?”

Francine chuckled. “I am not you father. Don’t think about trying to fool me.”

Alyson swallowed her irritation. Her aunt may be her mother’s twin, but she took the surrogate mother thing too far. Best to change the subject. “What do you mean ‘broken’? Has he gone rogue?”

“Not officially. It…he…the situation was very ugly.”

“He said something about his parents setting him up with Siobhan Lannigan, the Los Angeles pack’s beta. Did she fight him for the right to marry her Normal?”

Francine clicked her tongue against her teeth. “From what I heard, it was dislike from the start on both sides. There was no fight. It was a mutual decision. When Logan and Siobhan didn’t work out, he visited other packs to court but never found a bitch to his liking. He returned to Los Angeles after sufficient time had passed and asked the packmaster permission to court other girls there.”

Silence fell again which meant Francine was getting to the juicy part of the story. And that silence drove Alyson insane. “So what happened? Why is he living with a witch family?”

“A few years ago, Selene Antonius, the beta of the Augustine vampires went rogue and tried to usurp her brother. She failed miserably, but her brother was foolish and did not kill her.”

Francine sighed. “It would have saved so much heartache if he had. In her search for revenge, she sought a way to allow vampires to walk in daylight, no doubt thinking it would give her an edge over others of her kind. She kidnapped many supernaturals of all types, performed obscene experiments on them. Most didn’t live.”

Gorge rose at the back of Alyson’s throat. “Logan was one of them.”

“Yes. When Master Augustine discovered Selene’s actions, he had his people kill his sister and rescue the survivors. I heard rumors that Polk had traveled to the neutral lands and lived there. Few have had contact with him over the years, and most who claim to do so, like to tell tales.”

Alyson’s eyes stung. Mother Wolf help him. An alpha would be ashamed for allowing himself to be captured. It explained his reticence to talk with her. For him to trust the Goldsteins…

“Francine, were there any witches who survived the rogue’s experiments?”

“I heard one did. A child.”

Mother Wolf help her. Sarah.

Bits and pieces of Roy’s story made more sense now. Aaron and Esther Goldstein took Logan in because he was the reason their daughter survived. If he was ignoring the Normal women in town over the last four years, the trauma of his capture and torture had affected him. Sarah probably thought she was helping by setting him up with one of his own kind.

Which, once again, made her wonder about Roy Cole. He was just as guilty of pushing her and Logan together, but she trusted her nose. He was definitely a Normal.

“Anything else you can tell me about him?”

“No, cherie. Just…please be careful around Logan Polk. Avoid him if you can.”

For the first time in the conversation, Alyson laughed. “That may be hard to do. I’ve already been invited to dinner by the witches. And they finagled him into escorting me out to the Sunshine Believers’ ranch tomorrow afternoon.” Francine was silent for a long moment before she said, “Frankie hung out with a witch, too.”

Oh, shit! Alyson wanted to sink into the floor. Papa may have rightly expelled Cousin Frankie from the pack, but that didn’t mean Francine didn’t care about her son. And to not be allowed to bury her only child nearly killed her. “I-I think this is a different situation.”

“Hmmm, may be, Cherie,” Francine said. “Funny how they both include living sacrifices.”