Amanda's Wolves

by Becca Jameson

  Sharon rolled her eyes. “You know who.” She paused a moment and then continued. “You coming with me?”

  “Fuck no.” He hated speaking to his sister like that. It was crude. But his hands shook just thinking about facing this godforsaken destiny of his. He couldn’t keep her from hunting Sawyer down, but he also knew she would race right back to let him know that either she was indeed Sawyer’s mate or not.

  If the answer was no, that would mean with almost certainty Logan was destined to share a woman with Sawyer. All three of Logan’s older brothers were mated in threes with another man. Hell, all of his male cousins in Oregon were also mated in threes with another man and a woman.

  Logan was the last of eight boys on his father’s side of the family.

  Why on Earth his family had merged with the Hamilton-Bartel family was anyone’s guess, but Fate had her reasons.

  “You’re only putting off the inevitable. Doesn’t it drive you crazy?”

  Logan met his sister’s gaze head on. “What makes me crazy is having no choice in the matter. What makes me insane is knowing I’m going to spend my life with one of two men from another family. I don’t even know who the fucking woman is. That’s fucked up.” His voice rose as he spoke.

  Finally, he turned around and busied himself straightening up bags of tents that were already in perfect lines waiting to be rented.

  Sharon blew out an exasperated breath behind him and then fled the lodge.

  Logan stopped what he was doing and sauntered into the backroom. He plopped down on a loveseat behind the scenes, leaned his head back, and crossed his arms behind his neck. “Shit.”

  Whether he liked it or not, all hell was about to break loose, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it. A dam was going to break today. The instigator was Sharon, but the water had been inching toward the top of the levy for months.

  It was time.

  He couldn’t put off the inevitable forever. If he was honest with himself, he would have to admit he hadn’t slept in weeks. He’d been restless for about a month, even before he heard that Sawyer was in town.

  His intuition told him he was next whether he liked it or not. Sharon would not find Sawyer to be her mate. He knew it in his blood.

  Because Sawyer was Logan’s mate. He didn’t need to meet the man to swallow that pill. The pounding in his head, the nausea in his stomach, the shaking of his limbs—all symptoms he’d chosen to ignore and keep to himself for the entire month of October.

  Yeah. It was super obvious to anyone who chose to pay attention. Fate didn’t like Her subordinates to dally. She meant business. And it was time for Logan to get down to it.

  There were no customers in the lodge at this time of day, so when his father wandered in a few minutes later, he took his opportunity to escape, leaving the boring job in his dad’s capable hands.

  Ten minutes later, he was in the woods, clothes safely stowed under a fake rock they all used when the need arose, and shifted into his natural form. He stretched out languidly for several minutes, enjoying the feel of his paws beneath him and the breeze blowing through his fur.

  And then he ran. He took off at a breakneck pace that would hopefully alleviate the majority of the stress he felt. He ran hard and far, distancing himself literally from his problems.

  He didn’t even pay attention to where he was going until he suddenly heard voices and came to a skidded halt. He heaved for breath, glancing around him, and his ears lifted into the air to assimilate the information.

  Not just people, but machinery. He glanced up higher, realizing precisely where he was, miles from the lodge, close to the edge of the reservation.

  Loggers.

  There were always loggers in the area somewhere, but he wasn’t usually careless enough to stumble upon them like this. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, visualizing in his mind precisely where the latest logging company was working.

  To the south, where the national forest overlapped the reservation. But that had been a month ago. They were scheduled to be finished before now.

  He inched forward, cautiously moving so as not to cause anyone to glance his direction. He doubted anyone would care about a wolf roaming the edge of the cleared land. It wasn’t even strange since the humans were encroaching on the natural territory of the wolves anyway.

  Still, he wouldn’t take chances. When he reached the last few trees, he crouched down on his belly and peered at the scene before him. The cleared land was vast. Perhaps too big. This section was secluded from civilization, far enough away from humans that loggers could easily get away with over-logging. It happened. It wasn’t legal, and if they got caught, the fines would be more than any one small company could endure, but the payoff was always salivating to the greedy owner.

  About fifty men were feverishly working the land. Two trees fell while he watched. The rich scent of pine filled the air while the normally hushed sounds in the forest were disturbed by the numerous engines of the logging equipment and semis. Logan blinked, a bad taste filling his mouth as he stared at the hazy cloud forming over the site from exhaust.

  His hackles rose with every breath. Something was off. Something was horribly wrong. And not just the over-logging. He couldn’t bring himself to move. In fact, his gaze focused on something dark and menacing in the center of the action.

  He froze, not blinking. Was it possible? Was he actually seeing one of the Native American spirits coalescing in the center of the logging site?

  No one in or around the dark figure seemed to notice. In fact several men walked right by the gathering smoky substance or even through it. But Logan stared at it, not willing to glance away for a second. He’d heard tales of this very thing from his older brothers and their mates.

  He knew it was unusual for him to spot such a thing himself. For one thing, he wasn’t native. For another thing, he wasn’t mated. When each of his brothers had mated, they’d experienced repeated visits from the spirits, warning them of danger. But the visions usually started with his brother Trace’s mate, Melinda, or her grandmother, Mimi. They had extra abilities he couldn’t even describe, a sense when things were out of whack with the universe. They could read through the lines and predict things.

  Not Logan. He stiffened. He was a regular guy.

  What the fuck?

  He turned on his heels and ran back toward the ski resort. He needed to call his brother or Melinda. Whatever was happening in the woods was eerie and unnerving, and he hoped it wasn’t going to be up to him to solve the mystery.

  »»•««

  The tiny hairs on the back of Sawyer’s neck stood on end even before he heard the car engine. He didn’t have to lift his head or turn around to follow the vehicle’s progress. It was a small car, moving slowly along the gravel path he’d laid last week to make it easier to get to the spot he’d chosen to build his house.

  He remained leaning over the folding table he’d set up outside next to the small trailer he was temporarily living in. Even when the car engine shut off yards behind him and a door opened and shut, he stayed still, fighting the need to whip around and face whoever the unwanted guest was.

  It wasn’t Laurie. She was at home with the baby, and she almost never came to his homestead site. It was in the early stages and extremely boring to her. It wasn’t one of her mates because they all drove trucks.

  His father was at work. His mother was with her volunteer group.

  He inhaled long and slow as the visitor approached, not lifting to his full height and turning around until his guest was a few feet behind him and had stopped.

  A soft voice finally reached him. “Hello?” A woman.

  With a deep breath, intended to give him the strength to face her, he finally spun on his feet. He wasn’t able to force a smile, though. That was asking too much.

  He twirled one of his many plain yellow pencils between his fingers as he met her gaze. “You must be Sharon.”

  “You must be Sawyer.”

&
nbsp; “How did you find me?”

  “Laurie.”

  “Of course.” He didn’t know whether to be elated and relieved or frustrated and angry, but Sharon was not his mate.

  And she realized this at the same moment as he watched her shoulders relax and lower.

  Instead of addressing the obvious, she glanced around and made small talk. “What are you doing?”

  “Building a house.” He’d claimed his share of the family land within days of arriving in the area. The property was located on several acres his grandfather on his mother’s side had left for his grandchildren. When the man had died many years ago, he hadn’t known he had more than two grandchildren, Miles and Melinda, the twins he’d helped raise after their mother—and Sawyer’s for that matter—left town to spare their lives.

  Nevertheless, when Miles and Melinda found out they had three half siblings, they’d eagerly divided their land into five parcels and shared the stretch of rolling hills perfectly located halfway between Cambridge to the north and Sojourn to the south. Prime property between two small towns that often experienced strife, considering one was nearly all Caucasian and the other was nearly all Native American.

  It seemed Sawyer and his siblings were part of a giant conspiracy orchestrated by Fate to unite the two races. All of the three matings so far had included a mixture of residents from both towns. Hell, Sawyer, Laurie, and their younger brother, Cooper, were mixed themselves. Joyce, their mother, was Native American. Gene, their father, was Caucasian.

  Sharon fidgeted, wringing her hands in front of her. “I see. For yourself?”

  “Yes.” He held the flimsy pencil in his right hand too tightly. Suddenly it snapped in half.

  Sharon flinched. She licked her lips. “You work fast.”

  She wasn’t lying. He’d drawn up blueprints and started construction as soon as he’d arrived, telling himself he wouldn’t lose his sanity if he kept busy every second he wasn’t either working or sleeping.

  He changed the subject. “Why did you come here?”

  “I had to know.”

  The unspoken between them was so thick, Logan felt like he was stuck in quicksand. “I wish you hadn’t.”

  “I see that. But putting it off wasn’t doing anyone any good either.”

  She was right. The way he’d spent the last month tossing and turning at night, unable to relax and rest, attested to her accuracy.

  She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then spoke again. “You don’t say much, do you?”

  “Not when someone is forcing my hand, no.”

  She took a step back and then stood taller, seeming to grow thicker skin. “It’s not all about you, Sawyer. Have you ever considered that? How do you think I felt? Day after day. Waiting. Wondering. What is it with you stubborn men?”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s not you. You can relax.” He shuddered. His blood boiled. Finding out Sharon was not his mate left only one viable option. Logan Masters was his mate, one of them anyway.

  It made Sawyer wince to consider Fate had arranged for Sawyer and some guy he’d never met to share a woman most likely neither of them had met.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Three

  Logan lifted his face to the sky and closed his eyes, soaking in the unseasonably warm sun for this late in the year. The weather was perfect, with the exception of the drought. It hadn’t rained in weeks, forcing the Montana Department of Natural Resources and Conservation to extend the fire season indefinitely. Campfires and open burning were strictly prohibited even though they were approaching the end of October.

  Hiking season was still in full swing as a result of the higher temperatures, but camping was at a minimum since the option for visitors was to carry non-perishable food that didn’t require cooking.

  As he continued on his path between the lodge and his truck, he heard another vehicle approaching from behind. He hesitated, considering the option of running full force to close the distance between him and his truck and squealing out of the parking lot before being forced to face his sister.

  He’d only been back at the lodge a few hours. In that time, he’d been with his father most of the time and his mother the rest. He hadn’t called anyone about the apparition yet, deciding not to make a big deal about it in front of his parents.

  The car came to a stop.

  He knew the sound of her little two-door. She’d had it for three years.

  Instead, he grew some balls and leaned against the side of his truck, crossing his feet at the ankles and his arms at his chest.

  Deep breaths.

  She parked next to him, climbed from her car, and trudged around to face him on leaden feet. That couldn’t be good news. At least not for him.

  A woman who’d just met her mate wouldn’t dash back to tell her brother. And she sure as shit wouldn’t do it alone, leaving the guy she was fated to mate at some other location.

  Logan stared at her as she lifted her face, chewing on her lower lip. “It’s not me.”

  “I see that.”

  Seconds ticked by. “Do you want to know about him?”

  “Not really.” He was being stubborn. He knew that. But he couldn’t stop himself.

  “He’s building a house,” she shared.

  “What?” He uncrossed his legs and stood away from the truck, dropping his hands to his sides.

  She nodded. “On his family’s land. That’s where I found him. Laurie told me how to get there. He’s staying most days in a trailer on the property while he tweaks the blueprints and prepares to pour the foundation.”

  “Tell me you’re fucking kidding.” Logan stiffened, his heart rate rising with each passing second as her words sunk in.

  She flinched. “No. What’s your problem? I’m just telling you where I found him and—”

  Logan spun around, not listening to another word she had to say. He jerked the door to his truck open and hauled himself inside so fast, it was a wonder he didn’t yank the door off the frame.

  He slammed the door shut, stuck his key in the ignition, and peeled out of the parking lot in seconds, leaving Sharon standing in her spot staring after him.

  He didn’t give a fuck if he hurt her feelings. All he could think about was getting to Sawyer Hamilton and wringing his neck.

  Logan knew precisely where he would find Sawyer. He’d driven by the parcel of land many times. He’d even seen the spot where the new gravel road had been laid last week. It should have taken him twenty minutes to get there from the lodge, but he did it in less than fifteen.

  Rocks flew up behind his truck as he barreled toward the small trailer where he could see a man standing at a folding table in the bright afternoon sun. Sawyer twisted to glance behind him, holding a stack of oversized paper down with one hand.

  Logan didn’t put a single second into thinking about what he would say to Sawyer when he arrived. All he could see was red. When he slammed on the brakes and stopped the engine, he was fully livid. He jumped down from the truck, leaving the door open behind him, and stomped to within a few yards of Sawyer.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” He breathed heavily as if he’d run from the lodge to Sawyer’s property instead of taking the truck.

  “Nice to meet you too, asshole.” Sawyer set a rock on top of his papers and stood to his full height. The guy was huge. Logan himself was tall, just over six feet, but Sawyer was an inch taller. And built like a machine. Jesus.

  “You didn’t answer me.” Logan heaved for a breath.

  Sawyer glanced around and threw up his hands. “What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”

  “It looks to me like you’re building a fucking house I’m undoubtedly going to have to live in with your sorry ass without even consulting me.”

  Sawyer’s frame jerked. He glared at Logan.

  Logan took the opportunity to verify what he already knew with a long deep breath. Yep. Fuck. There was no denying the two of them were connected. It was unconventional fo
r two men to meet and realize they were fated to be together for life without meeting their intended female, but Fate had been a whacky nut job for several years. Nothing shocked Logan at this point.

  Sawyer inhaled deeply at the same time, his shoulders slumping as he came to the same conclusion. Finally, he narrowed his gaze. “Are you serious? You storm onto my property and fucking scream at me, a man you’ve never met, because I didn’t consult you on the blueprints before I broke ground?”

  “Yep.” Logan spread his legs wider and crossed his arms.

  “This is insane.”

  “I agree. What possessed you to think this was a good idea?”

  Sawyer chuckled sardonically and shook his head. “Listen, asshole, that’s not what I meant. I don’t give a flying fuck about your feelings concerning my building plans. I’m simply commenting on the fact that when I’m finished, I’m gonna have to sleep with your sorry ass inside my home.”

  Logan stepped closer, closing the gap between them. His head was about to explode. “Are you always such a dick?”

  “Only when some mother fucker attacks me on my land. Otherwise, I’m a pretty nice guy. Ask my family. Oh, right. You would know that if you ever bothered to question any of them. You’ve had access to my two sisters, my brother, and my parents for months. I’m pretty sure any one of them would have told you about me if you’d ever asked.”

  “You mean just like you’ve asked about me? I haven’t heard any tales of you sitting down for a beer with any of my brothers to shoot the breeze and learn what makes me tick, either.”

  Sawyer blinked. “Touché.” That was it.

  The steam went out of Logan’s sails. He took a step back and wiped his hands on his jeans. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he strode over to the table and leaned across the paper under the rock. The wind picked up a corner, and Logan smoothed it out to take in the plans.

  The blueprints were fabulous. Logan didn’t know shit about architecture, but he was willing to bet Sawyer had every I dotted and T crossed. After a minute, he lifted the top page and continued perusing the one underneath—the second story. “It’s huge.”