Rebel Wolf (Shifter Falls Book 1)

by Amy Green

  After Heath had backed off, everyone left Ian alone.

  Now Ian walked down Howell Street with the Tucker brothers behind him and Anna at his shoulder. He could smell nervousness coming from her, and tension, and her relentless curiosity, but he couldn’t smell fear. That was good. He was glad he’d given her the knife.

  They wound their way past the aftermath of the grizzlies’ fight: the overturned car, the smashed shop windows, the broken street lamps. Ian gave the brothers a glare back over his shoulder, and they both looked sheepish, even Quinn. The mess led to the doorway of a bar called the Black Wolf, where workmen were picking up glass from the sidewalk and trying to repair the splintered doorframe.

  This was the right place. He could smell Heath here. He led the others inside, where more workmen were carting away broken furniture and cleaning up splintered dishes. In the middle of the room stood a man in a police uniform, his thumbs hooked in his belt. Will Oliver, Shifter Falls’ human chief of police.

  Chief Oliver caught sight of them and frowned. He was a tall, powerful man, thick and heavy with both muscle and fat, his uniform pulling at his shoulders. He was about fifty, his gray hair thinning, and Ian had never known him to do a damn thing to actually keep order in Shifter Falls. “What are you doing here, Donovan?” the chief asked.

  “Where’s Heath?” Ian asked, ignoring his question.

  “Haven’t seen him. Who’s the woman?”

  Ian opened his mouth to answer, but Anna beat him to it. “Hi,” she said politely, holding out her hand to Chief Oliver. “I’m Anna Gold.”

  Of course. Anna was human. She saw a police officer, and she saw law and order, justice done. She was still thinking like a human.

  Chief Oliver ate it up, shaking her hand and smiling into her pretty eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Gold. Are you visiting the Falls?”

  “Yes, for a research project. I wonder if I could interview you—”

  “Don’t talk to him, sweetheart.” The voice came from across the room. “Talk to me.”

  Heath came out of the stairwell that led to the apartment upstairs and walked toward them. His honey-brown hair was worn longer than Ian remembered, though his face was still the same—high cheekbones, a manicured scruff of light brown beard, gray eyes with dark lashes. He was tall and long-legged and muscled, wearing a brown suede jacket that came to his hips, a white button-down shirt, and a pair of worn jeans. He looked like a rock star, down to the earring in one ear and the leather bracelets on his wrists. He gave Anna a blinding smile. Ian rolled his eyes.

  “Hi there, Anna Gold,” Heath said, taking the hand Chief Oliver had given up and shaking it warmly, holding it a little too long. “Welcome to my bar. You’re gorgeous, but you smell like my brother, which is unfortunate. Ian, stop growling at me. Chief Oliver, go away.”

  Ian watched Anna, who was staring up at Heath in that amazed way that women usually stared at Heath. It pissed him off, which of course Heath would know. Because of the smell Ian had put on her, Heath wouldn’t actually touch Anna. But he would use all of his charm on her, partly because it would make Ian angry, and partly because that was simply what Heath Donovan did.

  Chief Oliver didn’t like being dismissed. “You want me to arrest them?” he asked, pointing to the Tucker brothers.

  “That would be a first,” Ian said.

  “Hey,” Chief Oliver protested, but it didn’t have much to it. He’d worked for Charlie Donovan, and he had bluster, but he wasn’t really prepared to take on Charlie Donovan’s bastard son.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Heath said, all of his charm turned off. “We’re done, Chief. I need to talk to my brother.”

  This was news to Ian, but he didn’t say anything. Chief Oliver looked from one brother to the other, and then he shrugged, the gesture tight and angry. “Suit yourself,” he said, turning and walking out through the open door into the cold sunlight.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” Ian said to Heath when Oliver was gone. He jerked a thumb at the two bear shifters. “I brought the Tucker brothers here to make amends. They’re sorry, and they’re going to help you clean up. Now I’m leaving.”

  “Wait a minute,” Anna broke in. “You don’t get the police involved in property damage like this? Or an insurance company?”

  Heath gave her a look that was completely blank with confusion, but Ian filled her in. “We sort through things like this our own way,” he explained. “We decide for ourselves.”

  Heath looked at the Tucker brothers, who were standing waiting, looking contrite. Then he looked back at Ian. “I heard you broke it up last night,” he said.

  Ian shrugged.

  “Nice work,” Heath said. He looked at the Tuckers again and sighed. “At least bears are hard workers. You two, go see Martin, the crew foreman.” He pointed out the leader of the cleanup crew, and Edgerton and Quinn left to get to work. “Let’s go to the back room and talk,” Heath said to Ian and Anna. “It’s cold out here while they fix the door.”

  He turned toward the back of the bar.

  “Did you miss the part where I said I don’t want to talk to you?” Ian said.

  Heath turned back and gave him a hard stare. “Look,” he said, “I don’t want to talk to you either. But you’re going to have to talk to one of us sooner or later. Look around,” he said, gesturing to the street outside. “You’ve been gone a year, Ian, and a lot has been going on. The Falls is in trouble, and we’re Donovans. Are you coming?”

  Ian glanced at Anna, who shrugged at him. “Why not?” she said.

  Sure, Ian thought. Why not? And he followed Heath from the room.

  11

  Heath led them to a back room, probably used for private parties, closed off from the main bar. It was dim and cozy, with a pool table, a small secondary bar along one wall, and a central table and chairs. Anna could smell wood polish, sawdust from the work being done outside, and old beer—and another smell, heady and rich, that she was starting to identify as wolf.

  She kept close to Ian. Heath didn’t frighten her; he was as tall as Ian and obviously could be lethal in a fight, but he gave off easy arrogance instead of aggression. There was no doubt he was easy on the eyes, something he knew perfectly well, but she found that Ian’s dark looks, his scruff of black beard and his green eyes, his feral, muscular grace, were more attractive to her. She reminded herself never to admit that. In fact, she should really stop comparing the brothers by their looks at all. She was supposed to be working.

  Heath pulled out a chair and swung his long legs up, propping his calves on the corner of the table and crossing his ankles. “Have a seat,” he said to them. “In fact, pour yourself a drink if you want one.”

  “It’s ten o’clock in the morning,” Ian pointed out, pulling back a chair. When Anna sat, Ian pulled his chair closer to her, so when he leaned back his elbow almost brushed hers. She felt reassured at the contact, as if he was sending her a message.

  Heath shrugged. He directed his hazel-eyed gaze at Anna. “What did I hear about a research project?”

  “I’m studying shifters,” Anna said.

  “My brother in particular,” Heath observed.

  Anna gave him a smile. “He’s very interesting.”

  “Is he?” Heath looked at her for a long moment, assessing. He was different from Ian in almost every way, but in that moment Anna could see the Donovan resemblance. He was assessing her trustworthiness, the possibility of a potential threat. Donovans, Anna had started to understand, didn’t trust easily.

  Finally, Heath shrugged, as if satisfied. “Fine,” he said. “It could be interesting, having you here. I never object to the presence of a woman. Did he tell you about the last time he and I met?”

  Anna searched her memory. She could feel Ian beside her, quiet. He wasn’t the kind of man who felt the need to take over every conversation. “He said you two got in a fistfight, and that he won.”

  Heath winced, flexing his fingers. “I could have w
on. I was off my game.”

  Ian snorted. “Hardly.”

  “Well.” Heath touched his lip, as if remembering the pain of Ian hitting it. “I’m a lover, not a fighter. Listen, big brother, maybe you’ve noticed. The Falls is in trouble since our father died.”

  “Sure, I noticed,” Ian said. “The streets are dangerous, and the bears are out of control. And what the hell was Chief Oliver even doing here? I haven’t seen him out of his office in years.”

  “I know. It took a forklift to get him out of his chair before, and now he’s suddenly everywhere. He’s worried we’re going to kick his fat ass out and get ourselves a new chief of police.”

  “We?” Ian asked.

  “You, me, whoever. We Donovans. He doesn’t know which one of us to bet on and which one of us is going to end up dead.”

  “Nice to know he has loyalty,” Ian said.

  “He isn’t the biggest problem,” Heath said. “The biggest problem is John Marcus.”

  Anna had heard that name last night. Wes, the long-haired pack member, had mentioned it to Ian. “Who is John Marcus?” she asked.

  “He was Charlie’s second in command,” Ian explained. “He’s a mean bastard. He was loyal only to Charlie, and then only because Charlie was alpha.”

  “Will he try to take over as alpha?” Anna asked.

  Heath shook his head. “Even John Marcus wouldn’t do that. Only the alpha’s blood can be the next alpha. I don’t know what he’s up to, but everything tells me he’s up to something. He’s brought his murdering son Crazy Ronnie back to the Falls, and both of them have gone underground.”

  The door behind them opened, and a woman poked her head in. She was gorgeous, with a thick mane of light blonde hair, perfect skin, and dark-lashed eyes. “Hey,” she said, glaring at the back of Heath’s head. “Are we opening tonight, or what?”

  Heath gave an annoyed glance back over his shoulder. “Considering it’s still morning, Tessa, and the workers are still doing repairs, I don’t fucking know.”

  “Well, were you going to tell me?” she shot back. “Like, let me know whether to come to work or not? Because I need to know.”

  Heath rolled his eyes. “Obviously you aren’t that busy, because you’re here when you’re not even supposed to be on shift. You’ll notice that none of the other staff is here, because they all have a life.”

  “I’m the manager, dickwad,” the woman said. Anna could feel her eyes widening. “I’m supposed to know this shit. You’re supposed to tell me what’s going on.”

  “You know,” Heath said coldly, “just because you came with this bar when I bought it, doesn’t mean I can’t fire you.”

  “You are such an asshole,” the girl said, and slammed the door.

  There was a moment of quiet. Heath ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize when I bought a business that employees would be a pain in my ass.”

  “It’s fine,” Ian said. “Look, I—”

  The door opened again and the gorgeous girl stuck her head in. She glared at Heath again. “Hey,” she said. “One of your wolf brothers is here.”

  Anna watched Heath and Ian exchange a look. “Which one?” Heath asked.

  “How do I know?” the girl said. “A big fucking wolf.”

  “Tell him to go away.”

  “What am I, the concierge?” She swung the door all the way open and spoke to someone behind her. “He’s in here.”

  There must have been a scent that the wolves picked up, because Anna felt Ian tense next to her. She was as attuned to it as if he had been touching her. She glanced at him to see his green eyes as hard as chips of ice, his body braced and ready. Heath didn’t look much better.

  Into the doorway walked a huge man. He had dark hair, a full brown beard, and broad shoulders. He wore a black sweater that showed his powerful muscles through the thick wool and a pair of jeans. Anna could clearly see the black ink of a tattoo snaking up the side of his neck from the collar of his sweater, and another emerging from his sleeve and covering the back of one hand. He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans and leaned on the doorframe. “Well fucking well,” he said in low growl.

  Heath swung his legs off the table and ran a hand through his hair. “Devon,” he said without looking at the man in the doorway. “I don’t know about you, Ian, but I’m getting a goddamn drink.”

  12

  “Make it a shot,” Ian said.

  His gaze tracked Devon as he came into the room. Devon circled the table, pulled out a chair, and sat in it. “Did I miss the meeting?” he asked.

  This was not good, Ian thought. The last time he’d seen Devon, Devon had been telling him—like everyone else, it seemed—to get the hell out of town. You’re either with the pack or you’re against us, Devon had said. We rule here. If you’re against us, get out.

  This was typical Devon reasoning. Heath may claim to have been Charlie’s favorite bastard son, but Devon was by far the most loyal. His mother had never left Charlie the way Ian’s mother had; she’d stuck around Shifter Falls until she’d died young. That left Devon in Charlie’s hands, so it was believable he’d grown up warped. Charlie had used him as muscle, a low-level henchman sent out to growl threats and break heads when needed, but he hadn’t promoted Devon within the pack.

  In fact, Devon was so loyal to their father the alpha that Ian had wondered more than once whether Devon’s attempt to kill him years ago had been his own idea—or whether it had been ordered.

  Today was not the day he felt like finding out.

  “Are you going to play nice?” Heath asked from behind the bar, his eyes on Devon as he poured two shots. “We’re just talking. And drinking, of course. There’s no need for violence. Plus, we have a guest.”

  Ian watched as Devon’s gaze flicked to Anna. No doubt he already scented Ian’s shirt on her. To his amazement, Anna broke the thick tension in the room by smiling at Devon and holding out her hand across the table. “Hi,” she said warmly. “My name is Anna Gold.”

  Heath choked in surprise from behind the bar as Devon reached his big hand across the table and shook with Anna. “Devon Donovan,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Okay, then. Devon was going to be civilized. Ian and Heath shared a look.

  “I’ll play nice,” Devon said as he dropped Anna’s hand. He grinned at Heath, who was circling the table to bring Ian his shot. “I’m in a good mood. I heard your bar got demolished by a couple of bears last night.”

  “Laugh it up,” Heath said dryly. “I know I am.”

  “Come on, Heath,” Devon said. “What the hell made you think you could run a bar?”

  “One of us has to do something,” Heath said. “You should think about it, Devon. You need a new job now that the old man is dead.”

  “You want to hire me as a bouncer?” Devon asked.

  Heath rolled his eyes. “The idea of a bar is to have customers actually come inside,” he said, “not get chased off by your shitty personality. Did you just come here to gloat?”

  Devon shrugged. “That, and I heard that Ian got out of prison. I wanted to find out what you knew about it.” He turned his gaze on Ian, assessing. “Are we going to have a problem?”

  Ian picked up his shot and tossed it back. It didn’t hit him; wolves were almost impervious to alcohol, and it would take a tank full to get him drunk. “I want nothing to do with you, Devon,” he said, “the same as always. I know you find that hard to believe.”

  “If you don’t want anything to do with us,” Devon said, staring Ian down, “then you should just go live somewhere else.”

  “Make me,” Ian growled, staring back.

  “Can I ask a question?” Anna asked.

  They all looked at her.

  She didn’t even look ruffled. She had a real backbone, this woman, and she seemed immune to the testosterone levels in the room. “No one has explained to me how Charlie Donovan died,” she said.

  It was H
eath who answered. He smiled at her. “He died in his bed, if you can believe it,” he said. “After a life like his, with all of the people who hated his guts—he just went to bed one night and never woke up. No one got the chance to kill him.”

  “Life isn’t fair,” Ian couldn’t help but add.

  “He was our father,” Devon protested, “and our alpha. Show respect.”

  “Oh, please,” Heath said. “You’re just as happy he’s dead as we are, Devon. You just don’t want to admit it.”

  The scent hit Ian’s nose just before the door swung open, and he looked up to see another wolf come in the room. Of course. This would make his morning complete, wouldn’t it? Might as well get it over with.

  Brody Donovan wore a baseball cap, a blue plaid flannel shirt over a white t-shirt, and worn jeans. He was the only one of them who didn’t wear a beard—he was clean-shaven, his dark brown hair grown just long enough to curl beneath the rim of the hat, his dark brown eyes looking out at all of them with their usual closed-off expression.

  “What the fuck, you guys?” he said, annoyed. He walked into the room and went straight behind the bar. “I’ve been trying to talk to you boneheads forever, and everyone told me to fuck off. Now I find you all sitting in Heath’s bar, having tea.” He pulled a beer from the fridge beneath the bar. “Heath, I’m drinking your fucking beer.”

  “Morning, Brody,” Heath said. “Help yourself. Which you’re already doing.”

  “Hi there,” Brody said politely to Anna. He was probably the most human of all of them, Ian had to admit. “I’m Brody. Would you like a beer?”

  “No thanks,” Anna said, as if werewolves offered her beer at ten o’clock in the morning every day. “It’s nice of you to offer. I’m Anna.”

  “I heard. From the Tucker brothers out front. They’ve almost got the door fixed.” He shook his head. “Bears shouldn’t drink.”