by Michelle Fox
He had work to do.
The bulge in his pants experienced a profound moment of disappointment about that.
A thin, reedy voice warbled behind him. "Kane."
He spun on his heel to find Georgia Harris staring at him, her rheumatic hazel eyes gleaming with interest. She wore a comfortable navy track-suit paired with orthopedic shoes and a thick wool coat. Her steel gray hair had been styled in careful, deliberate curls all over her head and a garish red lipstick graced her mouth.
"Morning, Mrs. Harris," he said. The woman looked frail, but he knew better.
She wagged a finger at him. "I saw you with that fine looking girl. Saw your hands traveling all over her. Wait until I tell your mother."
Kane gaped at her. What did Georgia Harris, town gossip and tourist t-shirt shop owner think she’d seen exactly? He distinctly remembered keeping his hands in the ‘friend zone.’ "We’re just friends."
Her eyebrows went up and her mouth thinned into a red line. "Uh-huh. We’ll see."
"Don’t make this bigger than it needs to be." Kane tried to sound authoritative, but couldn’t keep a pleading note from his voice. The last thing his mom needed was false hope.
"So you haven’t told your momma, then?" Georgia glared at him.
He narrowed his eyes at the elderly woman, trying to puzzle out her game. "No. Why would I?"
She ignored his question. "Your poor momma. The one thing she wants most in this world and you won’t give it to her." She wagged a finger at him again. "You’ve been tomcatting up and down this side of Michigan, refusing to be a man and settle down for far too long."
"That is none of your business," Kane said, his voice firm. Although, he admitted to himself that what she said was true. Kind of. He hadn’t been that bad, and anyway, those days were behind him.
She crossed her arms. "You tell me. How many girls have you met and never called again? A hundred?"
At his shocked expression, she upped the number. "Two hundred?"
"Mrs. Harris, that’s ridiculous." He didn’t think he had more than fifty numbers in his phone and he always meant to call, but it just never worked out. His job was kind of crazy and the really hot girls had a tendency to move on after a while. No one had time to wait on him, so he’d never gone much past a one-night-stand. "I don’t know why you think so poorly of me, but—"
"You never called back my Jenny." Mrs. Harris glared at Kane through narrowed eyes.
Ah. So that was it. "Jenny's married now, right?" Jenny Harris had been nice and all, but a little too much like her mother for Kane to want a long-term relationship. Both women had a penchant for verbal evisceration.
"Don’t talk down to me, young man. I don’t have Alzheimer’s. Yes, Jenny’s married and quite happily, too. She’s had three kids and still looks as good as she did at nineteen." She gave him a pointed look, as if wanting to be sure he understood what he was missing. "And here you are this morning, right in front of my shop, making out with your latest love’em and leave’em conquest."
"That’s not what you saw."
She arched a gray eyebrow. "What are you saying, Kane? If she’s not a quickie, then what is she?" Her face brightened then, and a smile split her blood red lips. "Oh. I see."
"What? You see what?" he asked, wary.
"You finally found the one." Mrs. Harris clapped her hands together. "Congratulations, Kane."
"The one?" He blinked at her, confused.
"Don’t be shy. I changed your diapers when you were a baby. You had the tiniest little wee-wee." She chuckled, the sound unpleasant. "Your momma and I have been friends since before you were born. She’ll be thrilled, just thrilled to hear you’re getting married."
"Married?" he echoed, flummoxed. How had this conversation gotten away from him? "No, she’s a friend, Mrs. Harris," he said, his voice edged with a growl. His wolf stirred, prowling under his skin, wondering if he should jump through.
The old lady winked at him. "You haven’t announced it yet, I understand. When are you going to tell your momma?"
Kane opened his mouth and then shut it with a snap. What the hell? "Mrs Harris, we're friends. That's it, nothing more." He allowed a growl to edge his voice, hoping to get the old gossip to give up her game, but she'd already made up her mind, and she'd never been one to let something so trivial as facts get in her way.
Georgia shook her head as she unlocked the door of her shop. Just before she stepped inside, she looked back at him. "Your momma is going to be so happy. This is going to help her more than anything those doctors did for her. You know that, right?"
Kane stood, rooted in place, as the old gossip disappeared into her shop. He tried to wrap his mind around how his day had gone sideways so fast. All he’d been doing when the universe decided to shit all over him was making his usual rounds of the business district. Crime was almost non-existent, especially when the tourist season was over, but he liked to keep an eye on things.
For some inexplicable reason the whole werewolf thing had bit him in the ass. Again. When he’d become a werewolf, he’d thought it would be like a super power he could use for the greater good. Instead, it just got him into trouble.
As for his mom…well, Georgia Harris was dealing low blows this morning. Kane wanted nothing more than to make his mother happy, especially after everything she’d gone through, but he wasn’t a liar or a cheat.
And he did not have a little wee-wee. Mrs. Harris was just being downright mean with that comment.
Straightening his spine, he walked down the street, giving all the storefronts a once-over. The main drag of Glen Vine was quiet now that Charlotte had moved on. Even the birds had fallen silent, subdued by the rain from the night before. Everything but Mrs. Harris' shop and the bookstore were closed. Once winter settled in, nothing would be open. No one came to Glen Vine once snow blanketed the area.
Kane walked the perimeter of each property, noting whether or not it was the same as the last time he'd been through. He liked to keep an eye on things, knowing crime didn't start with a bang, but a whimper. Little things mattered. Such as, were the locks secure or showing signs of tampering? Were there footprints in the muddy ground under the windows? If folks got away with little things, they became brave and would skip the lock to break the window. Just having law enforcement walk the area on a regular basis was a good deterrent.
Christine, the bookstore owner, must've caught wind of his scent, because she stepped out on the porch of the log cabin that housed her business and gave him a slow nod as he passed. Like Charlotte and him, she'd been bitten, too. Even a handful of werewolves in a small town like Glen Vine was a lot. He bumped into his pack mates constantly.
"Everything okay, Sheriff?" She glanced in the direction of Mrs. Harris' place.
Kane waved a dismissive hand wondering how much she'd heard or seen. He tried not to be embarrassed. "Yeah. Just one of those days."
"It's always one of those days lately."
"Hopefully it'll be a nice, quiet winter and things will calm down." It had been a hell of a summer, starting with wolf attacks that turned out to be werewolf attacks. Nine had been bitten, filling Glen Vine with folks who couldn't keep from sprouting fur and fangs. The attacks had formed them all into a loose pack of survivors who hadn't quite figured out how to thrive. That and how to stop thwapping things with their tails. Even with werewolf super healing, Kane still felt twinges in his tail bone from last night's run. He'd walloped a tree trunk so hard he'd actually yelped.
"From your lips to God's ears," Christine said, moving a hand from her mouth to the sky. She paused then, thinking. "Or should I say moon?"
Kane just shrugged. Hell if he knew. The werewolves who'd stuck around to help them with the aftermath of the attacks always talked about the moon as if it was a deity in its own right. Maybe it was, but Kane didn't feel any spiritual pull. Not unless you counted the way the moon seemed to yank his wolf right out of him.
The radio at his belt chirped, pushing him to
move and get on with the day. There were things to do, people to see, crimes to solve. Werewolf problems would have to wait. He tipped his hat in farewell to Christine and, pulling out his radio, said, "This is Sheriff Martin. Go ahead."
"Sheriff, we’ve had reports of gun shots," came Danielle’s smooth, cultured voice. She was the star singer of her church choir, and everything she said came out like a melody. Danielle not only worked dispatch at the police station, but she was also a werewolf, another member of his pack.
Kane shrugged. "Send out a patrol and see what’s up, same as always. You didn’t need to call me." Normal protocol would be to dispatch a few officers. It only escalated to the sheriff level if someone had been hit.
She lowered her voice. "Sorry, Sheriff, but there are wolves involved. I thought you’d want to know."
He headed toward his cruiser, walking with long, strong strides. "How do we know there were wolves?"
"They reported hearing bullets and howling."
"Who made the call?"
"Rose Clark," Danielle said, naming the town’s librarian. A petite woman with round, wire-frame glasses that made her eyes look big as an owl’s, Rose had a serious fixation on putting books back in the exact right spot. Kane knew her to be an honest and upstanding citizen. She wouldn’t pull anyone’s leg. If she said there were gun shots, then something had made a big noise for sure. And there was no mistaking a wolf howl, although he could only hope it was an actual wolf and not one of his pack mates. If they were lucky, it would be nothing. If not, Kane might be calling in the coroner.
Great. Now his day included the possibility of dead bodies. Fantastic.
"Where?" He shook his head. First, Charlotte, and now this. People were really gunning for wolves in Glen Vine.
"Out by Route Nine."
Kane frowned. Didn’t Charlotte live out that way? She’d been about to shift when she ran into him, but she’d seemed more stable after they'd talked. He’d even felt her wolf calm down with whatever new werewolf sense that allowed him to know those kinds of things. Had something else happened to throw off her wolf again?
Remembering the guys she’d claimed wanted to shoot her, he became even more concerned.
"I’ll take the call," he said, his voice terse. Reaching his cruiser, he slid into the driver’s seat.
"Should I send back-up?"
Starting his car, he put it in gear and eased onto the road. "Not yet. I’ll call in if I need help." Better to verify the wolf’s status before he brought in more officers.
"Yes, sir. Be careful out there," Danielle said, her voice somber.
Kane zoomed off, opting not to turn on his sirens or lights. That was like an open invitation for rubberneckers, and the last thing he needed. The people who made a hobby of listening in on the police radio were bad enough, but he usually had a head start on them, which was a good thing just then. Had someone been shooting at wolves or werewolves? Until he made the distinction, the fewer witnesses, the better.
Chapter Three
Just to be thorough, he passed Java Jump on his way out to Route Nine. Slowing his cruiser, he scanned the parking lot, checking for any sign of Charlotte or the men who'd had her in such a panic. To his surprise, the little green hatchback he knew she drove was still parked out front. Kane frowned. Charlotte said she was going home, which meant she should've been long gone by now.
Concerned, he stopped his cruiser and took a closer look. Her car sat, silent and empty, and peering through the café’s big windows, he didn’t see her inside, either. Aside from a bored cashier, the café was empty, too.
Where had Charlotte gone? Kane pulled into a parking spot and stepped out of his cruiser, discreetly sniffing the air, hoping to catch her scent. He recalled well the way she’d smelled like caramel and flowers. Thinking he caught a whiff of her, he walked to the side of the parking lot, where a line of bushes separated Java Jump from its neighbor, a high end art gallery.
"Damn," he swore under his breath as he picked a strip of pink fabric out of the bushes. A piece of Charlotte's shirt. He found her purse tucked well under a bush, visible only because of the way the sunlight caused the metal clasp to gleam. Her clothes must have been a lost cause, but she’d tried to save her purse. Taking it with him, he returned to the cruiser and headed for Route Nine at full speed.
Something had made her shift, and he feared that whatever it was put her life at risk.
***
On a desolate, empty stretch of road, he spotted a battered Ford pickup on the side of the road, its hazards blinking. The two men emerging from the brush that ran along the side of the road, guns in hand, caused Kane to slam on the brakes.
The men holstered their guns the second they saw him. Parking his cruiser behind their truck, Kane stepped out of his car, keeping the door between his body and the men just to be on the safe side.
"Morning, officer," said a man with blond hair. He didn’t raise his hands, but he did hold them palm up and away from his body, the gesture showing he was unarmed.
Kane tipped his hat in greeting. "You boys been firing your guns?"
The two men exchanged looks before shrugging in unison.
"Care to tell me what you were shooting at?" Taking in their construction crew gear, he added, "You should be at work by now, right? What made you stop and go hunting?"
The dark-haired guy looked sheepish. "We saw a wolf."
Kane gave them a blank look intended to prompt them to explain further. He’d perfected it over the years, and it never failed to keep a suspect talking.
"Fuckers are keeping us up at night with all their damned howling." The blond man spat on the ground. "It’s time to thin out the pack."
"Did you hit it?" Kane asked, his stomach clenching at the idea of a bullet tearing into Charlotte. A booming growl from his wolf filled his mind, throbbing like a bass drum.
The blond shrugged. "Maybe. It yelped."
Kane worked to contain his anger. His wolf continued to growl deep in his chest. Thankfully, the sound was mostly in his own head.
Through a clenched jaw, he said, "Hunting season is for deer, not wolves, boys, and you’re discharging weapons in Glen Vine’s city limits. For future reference, that’s against the law." Kane gestured to the men. "Take out your weapons and put them on the ground, nice and slow. I’m going to have to take you both in."
The dark haired one groaned at that, but followed Kane’s orders and set his gun on the ground. The blond stared at Kane, his expression hostile. When his gaze darted over to the trees, Kane said, "You could cut and run, but I would find you, and you’d be in even more trouble than you already are." He softened his voice, wanting to sound friendly, even though the wolf inside him would happily tear both men apart. "Look, just come in with me, we’ll get all the paperwork done and you’ll be on your way in no time."
After thinking it over for a few seconds, the blond grudgingly put his gun down on the berm.
Kane smiled at them. "Thank you. Now kindly walk over here and put your hands on the cruiser’s hood."
They shuffled over, walking slower and slower as they neared Kane’s vehicle. Eventually, they reached the cruiser and bent over, hands on the hood. Kane zip-tied their hands behind them and escorted them, one by one, to the back seat of the cruiser.
Removing the keys from the ignition and making sure the car was locked up tight, Kane said, "I’m going to go look for that wolf you saw. Sit tight."
He didn’t wait for a response and made for the woods, feeling an increasing sense of urgency to find Charlotte and make sure she was okay.
Chapter Four
Charlotte hunkered down under a bush, trembling with fear and adrenaline. Pain screamed in her leg, shooting up into her spine and raising her hackles. She’d reached her car just as the two construction workers came out of Java Jump, still talking about killing wolves. Feeling more stable after her run-in with Kane, she had tried to breathe through her emotions and not listen to what the men were saying. Her wo
lf had been there, but pacing quietly through her blood, not riled to the point of jumping through. At least, not yet.
Then they caught sight of her, and everything went horribly wrong.
"Hey, sweet cheeks," the blond said. "I’m Dylan, and you look lonely."
"Dylan," said his friend, with an expression of disapproval. "We got to get to work, man."
"Shut it, Stan." Dylan held up a hand. "We live in a small town, and there aren't that many pretty girls around. If I pass her up now, who knows when I’ll see her again? Maybe never." Dylan shook his head. "No, I need to get her number now."
And then he’d sidled up to her, his tar scent fuming in the air. Charlotte had taken a step back, but he'd just followed, eyes fixed on her chest. "Give me your number, baby, and I’ll make you a happy woman."
"Never going to happen," Charlotte said through clenched teeth. Revulsion crawled up and down her spine.
Dylan crowded her, cornering her against her car, boxing her in with his arms. "Come on, darlin'. I'm the kind of man who appreciates a big woman like you. I bet you don't meet too many guys like me." He bit his lip as his eyes practically fell out of his head to land in her cleavage.
"Oh, spare me," Charlotte snapped, disgusted. Guys who thought she was desperate because of her weight made her skin crawl. She might be big, she wasn't ugly. Finding a date wasn't the problem; finding the one was.
She moved to turn away from him, but he grabbed her arm and held her in place. "Hey, now. I’m a good person to know here in Glen Vine. How is it we haven’t met?"
"Just lucky, I guess." Charlotte licked her lips as her eyes locked on the pulse jumping in his throat. Her teeth lengthened in her mouth. Her wolf was dying to rip the guy’s throat out. It wanted to shred its way through her flesh and then feast on this asshole until he was just a smear of blood on the concrete.
