by Ava Benton
Table of Contents
Shifters Elite: Roan
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Excerpt
One
Two
Three
Four
Afterword
Roan
Shifters Elite
Ava Benton
Contents
Shifters Elite: Roan
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Excerpt
One
Two
Three
Four
Afterword
Shifters Elite: Roan
A former Special Forces wolf shifter.
Roan takes assignments. Hey, former Special Ops guys have to pay bills, too. Except their targets shouldn’t look like she does, should they?
A desperate hottie on the run.
Hope had the best of lives. Haute couture, mansions, the coolest parties. That went to hell in a handbasket when she witnessed a murder.
Now she’s on the run, and the guy that’s hunting her is out of control sexy. Hopefully, he’s changing sides. Sooner, rather than later.
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1
Roan
“You looked pretty slow out there today.” My cousin Carter ran his hands through his dark, wet hair as he padded barefoot into the common room and smirked at the scowl on my face.
“Faster than you,” I reminded him. “You’d have come back hungry if I didn’t help you catch that fox.”
“I didn’t need your help,” he said.
“No, you needed mine.” Carter’s brother Drew came in and smacked Carter alongside the back of his head. “So maybe you should shut up before you get all cocky.”
I laughed as I leaned over the pool table to judge my shot. “Yeah, you let that tricky little thing outfox you. Pun intended.”
“Pun intended,” Carter snorted. “You’ve been reading again.”
My cousins always gave me shit about the number of books I read, sometimes two or three at a time. Like it was wrong to be well-read.
My brother usually gave me shit, too, but was on my side. He laughed at his end of the pool table. “Maybe you shouldn’t have finished off that twelve-pack last night. You wouldn’t have been so slow today.”
“Okay, okay. When Slate sticks up for Roan, I know I’m beat.” Carter held up his hands in defeat before dropping onto the sofa, putting his feet up on the coffee table and picking up a game controller.
Drew joined him.
I never had much patience for video games, even the really good ones. They didn’t accomplish anything. Even if I won, what had I really won?
I banked the cue ball off the back wall and sank the last solid ball into the left corner pocket.
Slate shook his head mournfully. “I hate playing against you.”
“So why do you?” I judged how to attack the eight ball, bending over to scan the position in relation to the cue ball.
“Because I’m a stupid jerk who keeps thinking I just might win this time.”
I pointed the cue to the right middle pocket, then struck the cue ball with a solid crack and watched as it collided with the black eight ball.
Slate groaned when it disappeared inside the pocket. At least he was a good loser. Our cousins never were—I couldn’t count the number of times Slate and I had to step in to keep them from pounding each other to a pulp.
It was a good hunt, and all four of us were relaxed and in a good mood the way only a hunt could make us. No matter how delicious a meal we had at the dinner table, eating normal food like normal people, there was nothing like the thrill of chasing down prey and tasting the blood that pumped freely thanks to a racing heart. Sex was maybe a close second, but only maybe.
Not like there was much of that to be had out where we were. The occasional trip to the closest town, where it never took long for all four of us to find a woman. We tended to have an effect on them, especially when we were out in a pack. We hunted just as well as men as we did when we were in our dire wolf forms.
Still, we couldn’t even make those trips too frequently. There was a reason the four of us were holed up in the cabin. Cabin being an understatement. It was more like a mansion. Just one made of logs, with exposed wooden beams and time-worn floors that felt smooth as stone under my feet. It had everything we needed. All the room we could want, to the point where we could retreat to our own corners of the place when we started getting on each other’s nerves. We had every convenience, right down to a chef’s kitchen and a top-of-the-line security system.
And a hell of a view.
Slate practiced his geometry on a few pool balls while I walked over to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching up two stories. The deep blue sky and emerald green foliage were breathtaking.
Montana was home, always would be. It was in our blood. Still, I couldn’t help but miss being able to go where I wanted and do as I pleased. I knew my brother and cousins felt the same way. The memory of our betrayal made me clench my fists until they ached.
The sound of a bell peals cut through my vicious thoughts and made me turn to the TV. All four of us watched as Mary’s face appeared there, larger than life thanks to the wide flat-screen mounted on the wall.
She smiled like she always did—dryly, like something amused her. “Hello, boys. I tell you, sometimes it’s still a shock how much alike you all look.” It came from having fathers who were twins, or so our dads used to tell us when we were kids and it was clear we’d all inherited the same tall, dark, strong builds.
“Hey, Mary,” Carter called out.
“Did you get the grocery delivery this morning?” she asked.
“Yeah, thanks for remembering to add those cookies I like,” Slate replied.
“Keep eating those cookies the way you do, and you won’t be fitting into those jeans much longer. I’ll end up having to order bigger ones for you instead.”
We laughed while Slate blushed a little. No woman in the world could turn us into obedient little boys the way she could. Mary was not our mother—not even a blood relation—she was the closest thing we had to a maternal figure and had been ever since the four of us got discharged and were forced into pretty much hiding from the rest of humanity. I remembered it all again, the bullshit, trumped-up charges leveled against us by our commanding officer. The way they used us and threw us away like garbage.
“Roan?” Mary’s keen eyes peered at me fro
m the screen.
She reminded me of a disapproving librarian with her high-buttoned blouse and the glasses on a chain looped around her neck. And that stern gaze.
“Huh?”
“I asked if you boys were ready for a new job. Everybody answered except for you.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. Whatever you want.” It was payment for sheltering us, after all. I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to—though I didn’t want to and couldn’t imagine wanting to. The work she gave us kept me from going crazy with boredom. I knew the rest of the guys shared the sentiment.
“Where are we going?” Drew asked.
“The Big Apple,” she said with a smile. “Or, rather, the Hamptons. Our client is a former district attorney now seeking mayorship. He has an apartment in the city so he can legally declare it his home, but his family home is in the suburbs. That’s where he wants to meet. His daughter’s been missing for nearly a week, and he’s pretty frantic.”
“And he wants us to help?” Slate frowned. “I mean, if he’s a big shot, why aren’t the cops all over it?”
“You’ll have to ask him yourself, though I think the story is much deeper than a simple runaway case. A powerful man is likely to have powerful enemies. That’s the way it sounded to me when I accepted the job.” She looked at me in particular. “I think this is an exceptional fit for you, Roan. My best tracker.”
The other three bristled a little at the way she favored me. I pointedly ignored them. “You know I love it.”
“I know you do. I want you and Slate to meet with the father, Jack Fremont, while Drew and Carter stay behind to dig into the girl’s movements. Any bank or cell activity. You know the drill.” She looked at the four of us one at a time. “The jet will be waiting for you at the hangar. Wheels up in an hour.”
There was a reason why the four of us always kept our bags packed.
2
Roan
Hours later, Slate and I followed a slow walking, elderly old maid into Mr. Fremont’s study. “He’ll be right with you,” she murmured before closing the door.
I took the opportunity to look around. The study was something out of an old-time movie, all wood, marble, and leather. I smelled whiskey and wood polish and cigars. And something else.
Blood?
I inhaled the air discreetly and told myself I had to be imagining things. In a house like this, with servants and assistants all over the place? Rich people didn’t bleed on their fine furniture or priceless antiques.
How the guy got any work done in a room like this was beyond me—I would never feel comfortable enough to concentrate. Hell, I could practically see my reflection in the high-polished wood floor.
“Mr. McNamara?” My brother and I turned in unison at the sound of a deep, gravelly voice. The man who entered looked like the textbook definition of a politician—straight, even teeth in a blinding shade of white hair, swept back and able to withstand a stiff breeze, a well-tailored suit hanging perfectly from his tall, healthy frame.
“I’m Jack Fremont. Thanks for meeting with me.” His grip was strong, powerful.
Mine was more so. You’re not going to out-alpha me, I thought as I smiled.
His smile, meanwhile, faltered a little.
“Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the long sofa facing the fireplace.
Slate and I perched on opposite ends.
“Can I get you a drink?”
We shook our heads.
I wasn’t there to socialize. The sooner we got started, the sooner we could get home.
He sat to our right in an old-fashioned wing chair and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. “I suppose you’ve already learned the generalities.”
“We have—we’re here to get the specifics,” I replied.
Slate cleared his throat, and I stood down in one of my rare moments of humility. Slate was the diplomat, not me. “We’re sure you must be frantic to have your daughter back. That’s what we’re here for. I’m sure you’ve heard of our reputation.”
“Indeed, which is why I’m glad to pay a quarter of a million dollars for my daughter’s safe return.”
My breath caught. Not much impressed me, but that went a long way. I realized I shouldn’t have been surprised—just looking around the house was enough to confirm the man’s wealth.
Still, two-hundred-fifty thousand?
Unheard of.
Mary would piss herself.
“Can you tell us about Hope?” Slate asked, smooth as silk.
He nodded. “She’s a willful girl. Brilliant—and that’s not just a father’s pride speaking, either. Her IQ is well within the range of genius. That intelligence mixed with her natural desire to have her way has left me feeling overwhelmed, to say the least.”
“And her mother?”
His face fell slightly. “She passed away shortly after Hope’s birth. Brain hemorrhage.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I murmured.
He nodded again. “I’ve done the best I could as a single father, but when she pulls stunts like this, I wonder if there isn’t more I should’ve done. The best schools, travel, solid connections. I’ve been a bit strict at times, but she needs that. I believe all children do.”
He sounded like my father. I glanced at Slate, who must’ve had the same though I did because he was clearly trying to hide a smirk as he looked at me.
“And has she ever run away before?” Slate asked.
“No, this is the first time. I can at least say she’s never been the type to run away. I don’t know what could’ve gotten into her, but she ought to know better.” Fremont stood, then went over to the cold hearth and leaned one arm on the mantelpiece. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was posing. The concerned parent. He stared off into the ashes. “With the election coming up and my nerves strained the way they are, she should know better.”
“Did you have a fight?”
He shook his head. “Nothing outside the usual.”
“Meaning?” I prodded.
“Meaning she refuses to take precautions for her safety. There are plenty of people out there who consider me an enemy.” He gave us a sheepish smile. “It’s a necessary evil in the life of a politician. People who I put behind bars when I was the DA, people who don’t agree with my policies. Corporations who I refuse to play ball with.”
“You mean, you refuse to accept bribes?” An honest politician? Somehow, I doubted it.
If he heard the disbelief in my voice, he chose to ignore it. “That’s why I’m afraid this is more than her running away.”
“You’re afraid she’s been kidnapped?”
He rubbed his hands together fretfully. “Yes. We can’t afford to waste any time in bringing her home. I want my little girl home with me. I mean, first I lose Dan, now my daughter? Don’t tell me this isn’t a conspiracy.”
“Dan?” I asked.
He seemed surprised we didn’t immediately understand him. “My aide. My closest advisor for years, and my best friend. He’s been missing for a week, since around the time of Hope’s disappearance. It’s been all over the news.”
“We aren’t from the area,” Slate reminded him. “We live in a fairly remote spot. I’m sorry to hear about your friend—and I understand how his disappearance makes your daughter’s return seem that much more critical.”
“Why haven’t you gone to the police?” I blurted out.
Slate’s critical eye bored a hole in the side of my head, but that wasn’t enough to keep me from staring at Jack Fremont.
He scowled. “I have, of course. While they were eager to help at first, their interest has faded as the week went on. I feel like I’m all alone in this.” His voice trembled just enough to make me believe he meant it.
What was it about him that rubbed me the wrong way? If he was lying, he was a damned good liar. I could always spot lies the way any animal could. Then again, weren’t politicians liars by trade?
We stood. I had a job to do. Slate looked aro
und the room. “I would love the opportunity to explore a little, sir. If you don’t mind. We prefer the chance to get an idea of a missing person’s surroundings before they disappeared.”
He looked confused but went along. “Sure, I can show you around for a bit, before I have to attend a meeting.”
“I won’t take up much of your time,” Slate promised.
I hung back a bit as they left the room, then headed straight for the stairs once I confirmed I wasn’t being watched. A quick jog up the wide staircase left me in the center of a hall that stretched endlessly to my right and left. Who needed a house that big?
“Maybe the kid’s lost somewhere in here,” I muttered to myself as I walked past door after door. I waited until I hit on the scent of a female, and I did once I reached the end of the hall. The door was closed, but unlocked, and I slipped inside before anybody could catch me.
It was dark, the blinds closed, but that was all right. I didn’t need much light to make out the four-poster bed with its ruffled canopy, the gauzy curtains in the windows, the rosebud wallpaper. Perfume and hairspray and lotion all combined to wrap my head in a sort of fog.
Definitely a girl’s room.
One important piece seemed to be missing. There were no pictures around. Didn’t girls usually have pictures with their friends or mementos from school? Maybe she took them with her when she ran. If she ran.
There was a little desk in one corner of the room, one which made the desk in Jack’s study look like something a pixie would use. A sweater hung over the back of the chair. I picked it up and inhaled deeply, eyes closed, intent on capturing her unique scent. What was it that made her who she was? Not just the perfume or the lotion, but the scent she carried on her skin. I could pick it up just under all those fake, manufactured scents.
