When Hell Freezes

by Rebecca Royce

  Drew laughed, and Colt stared at him. His mouth fell open. “This is funny?”

  “Yes.” Drew stopped laughing, but a small grin remained on his face. “You are blunt, so let me be. You don’t want to be Alpha. I can promise you that.”

  “You don’t know what I want. How could you? That would take some kind of understanding about anything past your own point of view. You left here. You abandoned us to him. There was no one to protect us.”

  Drew’s smile disappeared. “I understand better than you might think what happened here in my absence. The only thing I can assure you of, Cousin, is that I couldn’t have helped if I’d been here. I wasn’t strong enough. Neither were you.”

  His cousin’s words stabbed him in the gut, but he ignored the pain. “I waited until I could beat anyone, and then I returned here to fight him.”

  Drew nodded. “But you can’t kill the dead, and challenging me doesn’t bring him back. That pain you felt every day on your own? The one that said you were packless, family-less, and mateless? All the things we were told made us less than nothing and that you and I and so many others learned was absolutely true? I felt the pain, too. Every damn second. And I can assure you no one will fight to see that doesn’t happen again more than me. You want to challenge me? We’ll call Ryker, drag him from his mate’s bed, and make the challenge official. You can handle his bad mood. Or you can let me finish.”

  He didn’t know exactly what part of Drew’s words got to him. Maybe the packless loneliness. Only someone who had suffered as he had would grasp the emptiness. Was it possible they had something in common? An uncomfortable prickling started on the side of his neck. Hell, he hated having to change his mind.

  “Go on.”

  “Do you know how many threats have been made against B since I took over? Ten that we are aware of. Gee and Ryker took eight of them down. The other two got close enough to cause damage to her sense of safety.” Drew stepped toward him. “You might be able to lead better than me. How the fuck would I know? But I believe that the woman you love has been damaged enough because she was trying to protect you. Do you want more?”

  His words froze Colt to the ground. “When did the women go into play?”

  “This is a different world, Cousin. I need dominant males. I’ve got a few. I need you. I asked all of them—starting with Ryker—to swear to me they’d kill me if I became like my father. Do the same. Join me. Keep your woman out of harm’s way, and let’s put an end to this shit together. Let’s make the Black Hills what they maybe never were, but always should have been.”

  ***

  Colt rounded the corner, heading toward Gee’s bar. He’d stood the Bear up that evening when he’d needed to have Tasha. In all likelihood, everyone had gone to bed, but he’d check.

  His nose tickled, and he stopped moving. What was that scent? He sucked in more air, and the scent hit him like a truck smacking into him. There was a human child somewhere on pack land. He hadn’t heard anything about there being non-Wolf kids in the pack although he supposed it possible. Ryker had a human mate, and who would have thought that could happen?

  The sun reddened the sky, and Colt followed the scent of Twizzlers and Coca-Cola to the doorway of Gee’s bar. All the lights were off inside, and he guessed everyone had left the place.

  Everyone except the twelve-year-old boy trying to build a fire against the door.

  For a second, he stood there watching the kid build a rather masterful fire. He wasn’t surprised at the child’s skills. People did what they had to do to survive. He’d learned that the hard way on the streets of Reno. And for some reason, this kid thought he had to burn down Gee’s bar.

  “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again?”

  The kid jumped to his feet at Colt’s words and backed up as if he intended to run. The brown-haired child barely made five feet tall and had brown eyes someone who loved him would call chocolate. Did anyone love him?

  “I wouldn’t try to run. I’ll have to shift into a Wolf to catch you, and when I do—because I will—I’ll chew off part of your ankle taking you down. You won’t enjoy that, not one bit.”

  “Listen,” the boy’s voice cracked, “I don’t want no trouble.”

  Colt nodded. “Unfortunately, you’ve got some. Why the fires? Why burn this place? And you don’t seem the least bit surprised about me shifting into a Wolf.”

  “That’s ‘cause I’ve seen it before. The man who paid me to burn this place, he does that, too.”

  “Uh-huh.” Colt nodded and walked toward the child, invading his space. “The man who did that, was his name Tate?”

  “How’d you know that?” The kid gasped.

  “Good guess.” He wished he could kill the guy twice. “What did he promise you? How much is he paying you?” What was the running cost of hiring a kid to commit arson these days?

  “He’s to pay for my mama’s cancer treatment. We need some money. Doc says there’s no time to waste.”

  “Shit.” He shouldn’t curse in front of the boy, but, damn, he’d bet the child had heard the word before.

  “He’s dead. He’s won’t be paying you.” The kid’s gasp filled the early morning air, and Colt wished he knew how to be tactful. The boy opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words came out. Instead the noise, a cross between a moan and a sob and way too wary to be coming from such a young kid, expelled from his nearly closed lips.

  “Hey, now.” Colt cleared his throat. “Maybe there’s something we can still do.”

  “I tried to burn down your bar.”

  “No, you didn’t. This is not my bar. It belongs to this really huge guy who happens to turn into a bear. He’s scary, but he likes kids.” Which Tate had to have known when he’d perversely set this child up for death. If there was an afterlife, he hoped the man rotted somewhere. “We can talk to him, and maybe come up with some idea for your mom, too.”

  “Why would you help me?”

  Tasha’s scent wafted over him seconds before she spoke. Smart girl had stayed downwind.

  “Because he’s a softie.” She padded toward them on bare feet.

  “Are you nuts? You’re going to tear up your skin.”

  “I’ll live.” Tasha approached the child. “You’re lucky Colt here found you. Someone else might not have taken the time to have figured out why you did this. But now that he has, we have to take you to Drew.” She looked at Colt. “Unless you want to do something else.”

  “I oathed to Drew. He’s my Alpha. We bring him to him.” The kid gasped, and Colt looked down at him. “Don’t be scared. He’s not a softie, but he’s fair. He’ll help you.”

  Because helping the kid was the right thing to do, because Drew wanted to make the Black Hills that kind of place again, and because hell must have frozen over and unthawed Colt’s heart with it. Well, hell and Tasha.

  Tomorrow would be a chance to make things better again. For all of them.

  ~A Note from Rebecca~

  Hello Everyone,

  Thank you so much for purchasing this book. It is my latest installment to the Black Hills Wolves series. When I first came up with the idea for this series, I was seated next to author Heather Long at a convention called The Naughty Sleepover. Two years later I cannot believe how amazing it has all turned out. It is a dream come true. I hope you like Colt and Tasha. They needed each other so much. Please feel free to contact me any time at BeccaGrim79@gmail.com or rebecca@rebeccaroyce.com

  With Hugs

  Rebecca Royce

  Want more Black Hills Wolves?

  Watch for…

  Portrait of a Lone Wolf by Katalina Leon

  Chapter One

  Sela’s back ached from being in the car since dawn. By the time she reached Los Lobos, the hour was late. The ramshackle town appeared deserted of anything she’d call commerce. A quick glance down the main street dimmed all hope of getting dinner in a real restaurant. Apparently, even on a long summer night, the citizens went to
sleep with the sun. The battered storefront slash real estate office where she was supposed to meet someone was dark. An ice-cream stand on the corner was lit, but the sole employee refused to make eye contact and scrubbed the countertops in what appeared to be the process of closing.

  Her stomach growled in noisy protest.

  A barn-like structure at the edge of the so-called business district was the only establishment displaying signs of life. With no other options, she drove her Jeep into the parking lot of “The Den”.

  She slipped into a tight spot on the edge of an alleyway. Eager to get out, she swung the door open with too much enthusiasm. A metallic thunk alerted her to the magnitude of her mistake.

  “Crap.” A deep scratch on the door of a hulking pickup truck was obvious along with bold white lettering, Los Lobos National Park Ranger.

  Less than three minutes after arrival, she’d already damaged the property of the very people she needed to befriend. Her introduction to the National Park community was off to a sour start. The responsible thing to do would be to go inside to report the mishap, but the delicious scent of onion rings fresh from the fryer wafted toward her, hijacking her senses. Food needed to come first. Being an honest citizen, second.

  Following her nose through the front door, she was thrust into a honky-tonk time warp. Bars like this one didn’t exist in Los Angeles. The Den was cozy enough but appeared to have been decorated by a taxidermist in the late seventies and zealously preserved since. The shaggy heads of several unfortunate buffalo dominated the far wall. At the front door, two stuffed raccoons offered a mock greeting with outstretched paws. The chairs, booths, and even a few of the tables were covered in forest green vinyl. No doubt a sticky misery to come in contact with on a hot day.

  Movement caught her eye. A burly man with an inscrutable expression rose from behind a counter as if he was part of a magic act. He was tall with a barrel chest. A nappy brown sweater coupled with hunched posture lent him a distinctly bearlike appearance.

  The dour gentleman focused on Sela with a frown. “Where did you come from?”

  Steppenwolf’s “Born To Be Wild” was cranked to eleven. She had to shout to be heard, “Can I order some food to go?”

  The saggy-faced Papa bear behind the counter appeared perturbed. “Fair warning, miss. The kitchen’s closed. Pretty sure we don’t have what you want.”

  The explosive clack of a pool cue making hard contact with a ball nearly drowned her out. “Except for you, everything’s closed in this town!”

  A few customers cast her a brief glance then looked away. The lucky bastards sat in front of pitchers of cold beer, towering hamburgers, paired with heaps of french fries or onion rings. Her stomach growled embarrassingly loud, but she doubted anyone could hear above the blaring music. “Something smells heavenly. Could I at least order onion rings to go?”

  Bear man shook his head. “Sorry. No can do. Fryer’s turned off.”

  “Really?” Digging through her purse, she wondered if this place would accept a credit card. “I’m willing to pay a little extra for the trouble.”

  With a sullen pout, he rubbed a limp rag across the countertop. “After hours The Den ain’t open to the general public. Guess what? It’s after hours.”

  “Oh, come on!” She sounded desperate.

  A man in a red plaid shirt, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, sat at the counter. He shot her a smoldering look filled with mixed emotions. Perhaps he was angry or lost in thought. She couldn’t tell. The flash of fire in his eyes beneath brooding black brows was impossible to decipher. When he opened his mouth, the tough gravel voice of a drill sergeant rumbled out. “Gee, don’t be a hard ass. Get the lady some onion rings.”

  The lumbering hairy thing behind the counter, presumably named Gee, thrust out his bottom lip and lifted his hands into the air in mock surrender. “Why not? It’s not like my house rules ever get any respect anyway.”

  From the corner of her eye, Sela glimpsed a huge silver-furred canine dart from under a table, push a swinging door open with its muzzle, and disappear.

  “Did I just see a wolf?” Sela gasped.

  A rude sputter surged past Gee lips. “A wolf?”

  She pointed toward the swinging door. “A large animal ran in there.”

  Gee appeared unfazed by her claim. “I hope not. That’s our kitchen.”

  Sela sat at the bar. “I think I’ve got wolves on the brain. May I please order some food? I’ll take anything.” She glanced with suspicion at a cylindrical, vaguely obscene-looking item set on a plate. “I’ll probably be sorry I asked, but what is that?”

  “Fried pickle.” Gee grunted. “House specialty. Not too sure what we’ve got left. If you’re hungry for something else, you’d do better going down the street.”

  “The ice-cream stand? It looked like they were closing for the night.” Sela’s gaze drifted toward Mr. Hard-To-Read. On second glance, she noticed how attractive he was in a rugged, swarthy sort of way. A fringe of thick lashes softened his commanding dark eyes, which might have appeared intimidating to some. The detail added a touch of beauty to an otherwise tough guy face. He was busy tapping his palm against an inverted bottle of ketchup. Crimson sauce dripped over a glistening patty three fingers thick. To add to the torment, he swirled a golden fry into the luscious puddle.

  She turned toward Gee. “Any chance of getting a burger?”

  Gee crossed his heavy arms in front of his chest. “I’m pretty sure the grill’s shut down for the night. Plaid shirt got the last one.” He offered the plate on the countertop. “How about a cold fried pickle instead?”

  Her heart sank. “Is there a grocery store near?”

  “Yes,” Gee answered with a snort. “Won’t do you no good. They don’t open until eight a.m.”

  The dark-eyed man slid his plate toward her. His gaze simmered. “You can have this one.”

  Shocked by his gesture and almost salivating at the same time, she shook her head. “I couldn’t take your meal. What about you?”

  The swinging kitchen doors burst open. A man with a rumpled head of silver hair stormed toward the counter while tying an apron around his waist. “Last call for food!” He sounded breathless. “Who needs something from the grill?” He pointed at Sela. “How about you? What can I get you?”

  Gee looked appalled. “Damn you, Clive. I almost had her talked into the pickle.”

  “Don’t be a grouch,” Clive muttered. “The sooner the lady’s served the sooner she can be on her way.”

  Sela was quick to answer. “I want what he has, but I’ll take onion rings if you have them instead of fries.” She paused. “Wait. The fries look awfully good, too.”

  “They are.” The cook was curt. “Why choose? Have both. I’ll split the order fifty-fifty. I’ll start now. In no time, you’ll be back in your car.”

  Her hopes soared. “Thank you. That would be perfect.”

  The cook’s heavy brows shot upward. “How would you like your patty cooked miss…?”

  “López, my name’s Sela López. I’ll be a resident of Los Lobos County this summer. I’ve rented a cabin on Gray Paw Mountain.” Everyone perked up in a weird way. They looked a bit too interested in what she’d said. The response was unsettling.

  Gee glowered. “You’re the one renting the cabin?”

  She realized this was probably a good time to change the subject. “I would like my patty medium rare.”

  Damn. Why the hell had she announced to a bunch of strange men in a bar she was going to living alone in a remote cabin on the edge of a national park? Not smart.

  “López?” Gee guffawed He appeared amused as if he were privy to the funniest private joke in the world. “López means ‘wolf’! You gotta love the irony.” He gave Plaid Shirt a nudge. “Rio, did you know her name was López?”

  Rio lifted his chin. “I knew.”

  “What’s going on?” Sela’s temper flared. “Am I missing something? What’s so funny about my name? López i
s a common Hispanic surname.”

  Rio offered her his hand. “Miss López, my name is Rio Waya. You rented the cabin on Gray Paw Mountain from me. You’re hours late. I was expecting you to arrive before sunset.”

  She gulped. “I’m sorry. I badly miscalculated the distances out here. I thought I would call when I got to town. I hoped perhaps you could give me directions over the phone and talk me in?”

  Rio shook his head. “You’d never find the cabin by yourself in the dark. This isn’t Los Angeles. There are no street signs. The cabin’s hidden beyond miles of timber, gravel, and unmarked dirt road. You’ll have to follow me. I’ll lead us in.”

  “Wait a moment!” Panic rose in her voice. This guy, attractive as he was, was still a man. She certainly didn’t need one of those, especially during her summer of soul-healing. “I was told I’d have privacy at the cabin. I don’t want a roommate or a landlord crowding me.”

  “I won’t be crowding you.” Rio’s expressive brows sank. Obviously, he’d taken offense. “The only thing we’ll be sharing is a mountain. I’ll be living five miles away at the Los Lobos ranger station. Will that satisfy your need for privacy?”

  “Yes.”

  His lip curled with a hint of sarcasm. “At least the first matter is settled. One thing at a time.”

  “Pardon me. Is there a problem I’m unaware of?”

  “Last night’s e-mail mentioned your desire to do a documentary on Los Lobo’s growing wolf population. Filming here is not a good idea. If I had known this was your intention, I would have refused you use of my cabin.”

  She was stunned. “I drove eleven-hundred miles to get here. The documentary is the entire purpose of my trip. All I’ll do is film and photograph wolves outside the national park. Who will I hurt?”

  Rio’s gaze hardened. “The wolves.”

  “How so? I’ll treat this subject with respect. This isn’t amateur wildlife photography, like you might be thinking. I plan to win the wolves over, gain their trust, and take portraits of each one as an individual. The presentation will be like a family album.”