by Carmen Fox
MOON PROMISE
The Wild Pack
Carmen Fox
Moon Promise © Copyright 2018 Carmen Fox
Published by Smart Heart Publishing
Edited by Dylan Quinn
Proofread by Sharon Gibson and Kallysten
Cover Design: Ana Grigoriu
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons—living or dead, werewolf or human—or organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
MOON PROMISE
Private eye by day. Alpha by nature.
All her life, Kensi has dreamed of being an alpha werewolf. The trouble is, she can’t shift. And she’s tried everything: meditation, mind-expanding drugs, even squeezing real hard. Despite her lack of success, she’s not giving up. Her plan B? Offering her talents as a private eye to the Wild Pack. If she can locate their missing werewolf, they’re bound to support her claim to lead.
Dominant, stubborn and searing hot Drake is assigned to be her guide, and he’s just too damn good at his job. His hard chest bumps into her as he stalks her every move, while his mercury eyes watch her all the time, tearing down her defenses bit by bit. Maybe she got it wrong and being an alpha isn’t the only thing she wants.
But when the missing girl turns up dead, Drake’s story unravels. Putting her ambitions on the line, Kensi sets out to prove whether the man she loves is as innocent as she hopes—or as guilty as she fears.
One
Singing at a volume that might pierce most human eardrums, I tapped my fingers to the track on the radio. My white Ford Fusion Saloon, a recent purchase, smoothly ascended State Highway 119. At the apex of the hill, the sun exploded into my vision and blinded me for a second.
The long bed truck came out of nowhere.
My fingers clenched around the steering wheel as I flashed through my options. A pickup to my left. Shoulder to my right.
No way out.
I slammed on the brakes until my teeth fused together. The tires screeched. My Ford came to a halt two feet from the truck some idiot had abandoned in the middle of the lane.
Damn, that was close. If my car and its brake system hadn’t been brand-new, or if I’d traveled another ten inches, I’d have been a footnote in history. I took a deep breath of eau de singed rubber and rolled my shoulders to shake off the stiffness that had seized my body. If my reactions hadn’t been lightning fast—
A violent jerk propelled me forward, knocking my head and spine out of alignment. The seat belt cut painfully into my chest. Then, a loud bang.
Maybe I’d blacked out, maybe not. My neck felt like it had been snapped in half, yet it wasn’t the pain that had woken me to my predicament, but a siren that blared without mercy. That, and the smoke billowing around me.
I rattled the door, swung it open, and clambered, almost fell, out of my vehicle, coughing, gasping for air.
A hand helped me up.
“Are you all right?” A guy, maybe in his early twenties, led me toward the shoulder.
I ran my hand across the base of my skull. The area was tight and sore, as if I’d been craning my neck for hours watching a one-sided tennis match.
“Can you hear me?” the guy asked. His baseball cap largely obscured his face, but his voice rang with concern.
Through my dark sunglasses, permanent shadows bathed the road and cars. Even though my car wasn’t on fire, both airbags had deployed and its nose had accordioned into the rear of the truck. My trunk hadn’t fared any better, seeing how a big-ass SUV had smacked the hell out of it.
The siren continued droning.
Not a siren. The noise came from my car’s horn and ran roughshod over my nerves. Why hadn’t anyone taken a sledgehammer to it yet?
“Hey, lady.” The guy scratched his arm, which had a warm brown tone that made his white T-shirt seem luminescent.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I rubbed my neck again. “Is anyone hurt?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so. The jeep’s driver and her sister are on the phone, and I have no idea where the owner of the truck is. What a great place to break down, right?” He shaded his face with a hand against his forehead. “Can I call anyone for you?”
I lifted my sunglasses onto my head. “What’s your name?”
“Mark. That’s my car.” He pointed at a banged-up saloon that stood some distance behind the SUV. At least, he’d managed to brake in time. “Well, my dad’s.”
“I’m Kensi.” I withdrew my phone from my jacket pocket.
“You want me to do anything for you?”
“If you don’t mind, you could call the police and maybe take some pictures for my insurance.” I found the number I was looking for and pressed dial. “Thanks.”
Mark nodded and headed away with his cell in his hand.
“Hello.” Jonah and I had never met in person, only conversed by email in the past, but his voice was as I’d imagined: smooth and authoritative.
When I explained my situation, he went into alpha mode. To me, he was all comfort and warmth, while he barked orders in the background. His no-nonsense efficiency earned him some brownie points. I could almost forgive the methods he’d used to lure me from a breezy Chicago to his hometown in Colorado in the middle of an unprecedented heat wave.
Once Jonah had assured me help was on the way, I hung up, rearranged my beige culottes, then made sure my white blouse was tucked in and inspected my jacket. Its three-quarter sleeves were creased from my drive, even though the shop where I’d bought it had promised a crinkle-free design.
Given the temperatures, I was overdressed, but I wanted Jonah’s first impression of me to be a positive one. Yet no one else out here seemed concerned with their appearance. The woman leaning against the SUV proudly showed off her wild straw-like hair and sunburned chest. She sipped water from a bottle, while another woman, maybe her sister or her mother, whispered to her.
Then the second woman marched over to me.
“Look at my sister’s car.” She gesticulated wildly around her, but her movements were too fast for my still dazed brain. “You crazy?”
“Why? What did I do?” I sent a pointed glance at the truck. Where was its driver anyway?
In the other lanes, cars crept past our conjoined vehicles, while their drivers threw us curious glances.
“Instead of arguing, we should be exchanging insurance details.” I gave her a soothing smile. “I know it looks bad, but at least no one’s hurt, right?”
“My sister is. The cops are on their way, and we’ll see what they have to say.” The woman’s shoulders heaved. “You’re going to pay for this.”
Her ire didn’t match the extent of the damage to her car. Its bumper had come loose and the front was dented, but otherwise her vehicle was in an okay state. More likely, she or her sister were looking for a payday.
“It wasn’t her fault.” Mark pushed himself between us, even though he was shorter and younger than me. “Kensi managed to brake in time. The tire marks on the road prove that.” He wiggled his phone, which hopefully contained the corresponding proof. “It’s you who drove into her.”
“Shut up.” The woman stalked back toward her sister, but not without shooting me another nasty glance.
“Don’t worry.” Mark patted my arm. “I know exactly what happened.”
That made one of us, because my memory was still playing still frames rather than one cohesive movie. Maybe the woman was right, and there was something I could have done. Damn. Thinking was tough today. The heat pressed down on me, the area now heavy with fumes and light on oxygen. Suddenly, the world went blurry and swayed before my eyes.
“Whoa, hang on.” Mark grabbed my arm.
I inhaled ultra-hot air through my mouth and exhaled through my nostrils, surprised—and slightly disappointed—I wasn’t spewing flames.
“I’m okay. Come on, give me a hand.” With Mark’s help, I ripped open the back door of my car.
I reached inside and caught sight of myself in the side-view mirror. Normally my skin held olive overtones, not sun-tanned but not Hispanic or Indian either. Yet right now, no one was going to mistake me for anything but Caucasian. My cheeks and forehead, basically my entire face, had paled to a sickly gray.
I retrieved my tote and my laptop bag, and shut the door just as the police and two ambulance crews arrived on the scene. At long last, someone killed the sound of the car’s horn.
Luckily, the cops didn’t seem too impressed with the SUV-driver’s account. Mark and I explained what happened, and then I showed the officers my papers. The paramedic insisted I go to the hospital, but I was hardier than she assumed and declined. I hadn’t even sustained any cuts—just a few bruises on my chest that were nobody’s business.
Once the paramedics were done with me, I dragged my suitcase and laptop bag to the shoulder and sat in the dry grass. Mark sent his pictures of the accident to my email account, then joined me. I was glad for his company. The stiffness in my neck had gotten worse. To straighten my back, I leaned back onto my hands, while he told me about his little brother, who had to be the funniest five-year-old on the planet, if the tales were true.
Maybe the sun dulled my thoughts or the effects of the crash still lingered, but either way, the world slowed and became quiet. I’d never before been involved in an accident, and the bureaucracy that was bound to follow made my stomach heavy. Worse, sooner or later, I’d have to tell my dad what happened. Would he be pissed that I hadn’t called him the minute it happened, or proud because I was handling the situation without running to him? Damn. This adulting malarkey was tough.
Mark nudged me. “Are they here for you?”
Two guys, broad-shouldered and with determined expressions, came unerringly toward us.
“I think so.” I pushed off the ground and straightened without letting the pain show on my face.
The shorter of the two had a moustache and oversized sunglasses, and his gait looked as if the other one had kicked him in the balls.
The second dude seemed to be the one in charge. He towered over me by a couple of inches, yet his neck didn’t have the “kink of humility” that tall men frequently acquired; that constant bow of their heads that tried to convince the rest of us their size was merely an illusion. No, this guy made excuses for nothing.
“Christ. What happened?” He stood in front of me and viewed the damage with an appreciative whistle.
Intricate tattoos spilled from his short sleeves and ran across his curving biceps. The long summer days had washed his skin a dark bronze. Between his fine ass, a pool and a cocktail, my dream vacation could become a reality. Maybe my stay in Marlontown wouldn’t be as dreary as I’d feared.
“It’s kind of self-explanatory.” Mark pointed at the truck in front. “That guy seems to have broken down. Kensi stopped, and the jeep behind her didn’t.” He swiveled his gaze to the SUV, which was being raised onto the tow truck.
“Ouch.” The tall guy shook my hand. “Anyway, nice to meet you, Princess Kensington. I’m Drake.”
A tingle ran across my skin, sharp and painful, and the tiny hairs on my arms stood up. I tamped down my unease. If Jonah was the Wild Pack’s alpha, Drake had to be his protector. He certainly possessed the alpha gene. His display of power was a natural reaction to meeting a rival werewolf for the first time. Nothing for me to do than ride it out.
“Princess?” Mark’s mouth goldfished. As a human, he’d be unaware of Drake’s show of dominance or the complicated hierarchies of the werewolf world.
The prickle stopped as abruptly as it had flared, and I furtively rubbed the taut skin on my arms.
“Don’t pay any attention to that princess stuff.” I pointed my chin at his jeans pocket. “You have my details?”
He slowly closed his lips and nodded.
“And I have yours.” I took his hand and squeezed it. “Expect the largest gift basket this side of the Atlantic coming your way.”
He glanced at the ground and gave the road a tap with the toes of his sneaker. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I do. You’ve been fantastic.” I stiffly hugged him.
“Okay then. If you no longer need me, I’d better go.” He raised a hand in a salute and headed back toward his car.
The papers were full of kids his age joining gangs and making trouble. Why did they never write about guys like him?
“Are you ready to leave?” Drake asked.
“I guess. What about my car? I probably need a police report for the insurance, and—”
“Buck’s going to take care of everything.” He pointed his chin at his friend. “Just give him the details.”
Buck eyed Drake and then shook my hand. “Such an honor to meet you, Princess Kensington. Honest.”
“You too.”
The next days would bring more declarations like this. Even though America’s free packs had cast off royal rule decades ago, nobility and titles still carried a certain fascination.
I searched my bag for the necessary documents and handed them over.
“Come on. Let’s get you to Jonah’s.” Drake reached for my suitcase.
“I got it.” I gripped the handle before he could, and then slipped the laptop bag’s strap around my shoulder. “Just point the way.”
Male werewolves had a tendency to get overly “helpful” around women. Better to nip the sexism in the bud before it had a chance to flourish.
Drake frowned, and the tingle across my sun-beaten skin returned, more intense than before. It had been a while since I’d been in the presence of a powerful werewolf—at least one I didn’t call ‘daddy’—yet I couldn’t shake the idea that Drake’s dominance at this moment was calculated rather than instinctive.
“As you wish.” Drake turned on his heels and headed to a dirty brown pickup that harked back to the era of the dinosaurs.
The coquettish looks the SUV sisters shot at his fine figure bounced off him like he was Teflon Man.
Weathering the assault of his dominating pheromones without any outward sign of discomfort, I deposited my suitcase in the open bed, flung my laptop bag on the back seat, and then climbed in through the passenger door. The heat inside hit me with the force of a frying pan, and the truck’s trim didn’t half singe off my skin when my shin bumped against it.
Drake started the engine, which came to life with a glug and a stutter before settling into a steady hum. The scent of peppermint clung to his skin and his clothes, a splash of freshness amid the relentless heat. He set off at a steady speed and threaded his truck into the flow of traffic without difficulty. His pheromones had faded fast once again, without giving me any indication either way as to whether the whole thing had been a test for dominance.
If so, he had to wonder why I hadn’t displayed my own power.
Even driving, he held his head with the knowledge that he had the alpha gene, and everyone had better watch out. His close haircut masked a high forehead, rumored to be a sign of intelligence—or of a receding hairline. Still, all in all, Drake was at most a seven or an eight, because his gruff expression had shaved off a couple of points.
“Certainly not.” Drake’s regular voice was without bumps or edges, and not as deep as his physical size suggested.
All things considered, I was in no particular hurry to meet the Wild Pack’s alpha. Not by accident had it been a long time since I’d come face to face with other werewolves. Six years ago, the power plays within my father’s Boroughs Pack had sent me fleeing to Chicago, Illinois, home of The Bean, the Sears Tower and the jibarito sandwich. Would Marlontown wolves be different, or was I headed into more of the same drama?
Since I wasn’t the one driving, I filled up on my first proper view of the Rocky Mountains in the distance. “Majestic” was one word for them. “Freakin’ awesome” two better ones. The Rockies weren’t triangular like the Matterhorn my father and I had once visited, but consisted of a huge mountain range complete with craggy, flat and pointy peaks. If I had the time, I’d look at them all day long.
“Your first name is Kensington?” Drake angled his left elbow against his windowsill and placed his other hand in his lap.
“Yes.”
“It’s an unusual name.”
“Maybe. Like the Wild Pack chooses names pertaining to animals, my father’s Boroughs Pack picks districts from across the world. Kensington is a borough in London, England.”
“But you’re German?”
“Yes. I came over to the US to study and work, and now live in Chicago.”
“Your English is very good.”
Aww. As if it wasn’t hot enough already in the truck.
“Thanks.” I grinned. “So’s yours.”
Drake acknowledged my joke with a nod, but didn’t look at me. “And you’re a private eye?”
“Yup. You lose it, I find it. I’m a true where-wolf. With a ‘h.’ Geddit?” I checked his face.
Finally, a hint of a grin.
“I got it.” He flung a short-lived glance at me. “Very clever.”
I finally relaxed into my seat. Humor was an international ice breaker, but just because something cracked me up didn’t always mean others shared my opinion.
