by KH LeMoyne
Table of Contents
Missing
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Preview: Blood Oath
Preview: Traitor
Also by KH LeMoyne
About the Author
Missing
Shifters Unlimited Book 2
KH LeMoyne
Digital Crystal Press
© 2015, KH LeMoyne
Published by Digital Crystal Press
www.khlemoyne.com
All rights reserved.
Ed 12/08/17
GENRE: Paranormal/Fantasy Romance
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any for or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed herein are fictitious and are not based on any real persons living or dead.
ISBN-13: 978-1-937080-16-7
ISBN-10: 1-937080-16-1
Editorial Team: Linda Ingmanson and Toni Lee
Cover design: Clarissa Yeo
Contents
Missing
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Preview: Blood Oath
Chapter 1
Preview: Traitor
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Also by KH LeMoyne
About the Author
MISSING - A Shifters Unlimited Novel
An alpha losing control of his power. A desperate mother and son. The PI determined to save them all.
Alpha wolf Deacon Black has succeeded in saving his clan only to risk the feral madness that threatens every unmated alpha. When one of his protégées disappears, he’s prepared to risk his sanity to bring her home until he unexpectedly finds help from a stubborn, sexy investigator. She may be his salvation, but she’s not sold on becoming an alpha’s mate. Yet convince her he will, even if he has to break his number one shifter rule to do it.
Private investigator Lena Juarez is hours from hightailing it as far as she can from the northwestern forests when a desperate plea drags her into the search for a missing mother and son. Her collaboration with Deacon isn’t a problem as long as she ignores the seductive battle he wages against her body and soul. But to give into the temptation could mean death. His.
This book includes the novel MISSING, a preview of the Shifters Unlimited Prequel novel, BLOOD OATH, and a preview of Book 3, TRAITOR.
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1
Spokane, Washington
Present Day – 4:00 a.m.
The creaking of the building’s old wooden floorboards sent a shiver down Lena’s spine.
One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand. She counted, rolled her shoulders, then gripped her packing tape dispenser tighter. After several noise-free seconds, she shrugged off her edginess.
Just wind rushing up the elevator shaft and teasing at the old framework of the building. Damn, she craved a cold, fresh moonlit night in the mountains more than concrete sprawl any day.
The ghost-white light streaming through the office blinds from the streetlamps didn’t help her mood either. In the post-midnight hours, the halogen bulbs outside battled with the dingy gold circles from her desk lamp, turning corners into shadowed crannies.
All her imagination, of course.
Every creak, click, and snap of the 1940s architecture preyed on Lena’s nerves. Or maybe it was the creepy solitude in the empty building at this ungodly hour.
Only a few more days, and she’d be gone. Free from the temptation her past life posed. Free from the painful guilt her memories of that life carried. The weight of them was reason enough to count the days until she landed in Los Angeles’s sun and smog.
She bent over the box on the desk, angling the dispenser as a flicker of movement caught her eye. Out of habit, she inhaled, prepared for wild scents: pine, fresh earth, musk, fur. Instead, musty wood and a faint hint of industrial floor wax made her want to sneeze. Swallowing regret, she noticed the hallway light flicker on and off. A shadow darkened the frosted glass of her office door.
At a floorboard squeak from the hallway, she dropped the tape gun and lunged for the weapon she’d left on her desk several hours earlier. Old joists worked better than any security alarm, but readiness worked better than any electronic system.
Her door swung inward. With a soft curse, she raised her weapon.
Outlined in the hallway light stood a figure. Six foot two with short-cropped hair, wide shoulders, and a lean frame, the man froze on the threshold, his attention drawn to the gun in her hand. Then he blinked owlish eyes shadowed with purple bruises of fatigue and slowly lifted his palms with a resigned sigh. “Investigator Juarez? My name is Matthew Philmont. I need to hire you.”
“My office hours are from nine to five.” She glanced meaningfully toward the open door, hoping he’d take the hint. “You’re welcome to leave a phone message as well.”
He swallowed hard. “I called. Left several messages, actually. When I saw your light on from the street, I took the chance you’d be here and I could speak with you in person.”
Lena lowered the gun and turned to the cluttered side table. With one hand, she shoved several boxes aside. Uncovered, the answering machine’s red light blinked. A bright digital readout flashed the number twelve. A dozen new messages? With a wince, she realized getting up at three a.m. and packing her office files hadn’t produced clear thinking. While lack of sleep didn’t justify sloppiness, she hadn’t thought to check. Her former partner, Sam, had always handled the client end of the business.
She glanced up. Based on Matthew’s gaunt, sallow complexion and unshaven bristle, early rising hadn’t done him any good either. Unclear about his motives but not detecting any hostility, she relaxed and tucked her weapon at the back of her waistband. Her instincts told her to believe him. She leaned against the nearest desk. “You might as well have a seat and tell me why you’re staking out my office so early in the morning.”
When he hesitated, she waved toward a small stuffed armchair inside the door, the only guest accommodations Redmond Investigations owned. Their business consisted mainly of police referrals, insurance agency claims, and the occasional disgruntled spouse. Visitors rarely stayed long enough to get comfortable.
Philmont folded awkwardly into the chair until he hunched with his elbows braced on his knees and his fingers fidgeting against one another. “My coming by now is unorthodox, but I was out anyway because I couldn’t sleep.” Hands open toward her, he shook his head. “I apologize if I frightened you, Ms. Juarez.”
When she offered no
response, he glanced over his shoulder at the door as if considering leaving. Then, with a deep breath, he turned back to her with apparent new resolve. “The Spokane police told me you were my best option for help.”
Lena bit back a sigh. That meant his case had more holes than Swiss cheese and wasn’t worth wasting police time and resources. She gestured toward the taped and labeled boxes around the room. “To be honest, Mr. Philmont, I’m not in the business any longer.”
He shifted and released a harsh sound, pulling his shoulders back a bit. His Adam’s apple moved with such deliberation, she would swear he was holding back tears. Uncomfortable, she glanced away. She fought against sympathy for him. It hadn’t served her well in the past. No reason to trust it now.
Unfortunately, she caught him taking in the room inch by inch, as if seeking anything that would buy him time. Fine. She’d wait. She didn’t have anywhere to go. He’d figure out fast enough that she wouldn’t help him.
“I’ll make this quick,” he said. “Today, my wife and son will have been missing for seven days. I don’t believe Shanae would willingly leave me—ever. Even so, I need to find them.”
A missing spouse and child? Most domestic disappearance cases didn’t resolve happily. She raised a brow, considering how to proceed, then decided for honesty. A more brutal option, but ultimately more compassionate. “The police would have considered you the first suspect. If they’d found evidence of foul play, you’d be in custody or interrogation or both. In the absence of that situation or any other threatening circumstances, they’d assume she was a runaway spouse. Did they find any evidence that she’d left intentionally?”
He pursed his lips and glanced away for a moment. “Shanae wouldn’t leave me without a word, much less take our son. A coworker at Trevor’s day care remembered Shanae’s offhand comment about her not being in the next day.”
Evidence of premeditation, if not exactly a well-thought-out flight. “Did the coworker find the comment unusual? Was your wife upset?”
“No,” Matthew snapped. Then he winced and sagged backward with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair until it spiked, adding to his rumpled appearance. “The woman failed to mention that comment when I spoke with her. Two days later, she suddenly remembers for the police.”
“Perhaps something upset your wife. A sudden emergency?”
“You don’t know my wife, but she is the sweetest, most responsible and practical person on earth. She makes her living helping people make sense out of their businesses and, to a lesser extent, their lives. She wouldn’t disappear on a whim.”
Maybe he was in denial, but he sounded sincere. Then again, Lena didn’t know him or what he might be capable of, much less his wife’s mental state.
Leaning forward in the chair, he clasped his hands again. “I’ll pay whatever you want. Twenty thousand to start. All expenses. Double that, triple it, if you can find them within the next few days, or…” He hung his head, then lifted it, his eyes glistening.
Physical posture and bearing usually didn’t lie. He’d appeared tough and determined for a few minutes, but now she gauged Matthew Philmont as a paper tiger, ready to fold from his grief—and confusion. “Mr. Philmont, what did the police tell you?”
His chin jerked higher. Sparks of anger flashed in his eyes, outshining the shadows of his fatigue. “Everything you’ve already said. They finally released me as the prime suspect, but only because they couldn’t find any evidence that I’ve hurt my wife or my son. They all but said they weren’t searching for other reasons—due to their suspicion that she fled our home. Which is absurd.” His voice strangled to a halt, and he swallowed again as if all the spit had left his mouth. “Shanae is my life. Trevor too—we want more children. We’re trying for another.”
His words dwindled off. Despite all his words couched in the present tense, he was obviously rattled. The intimate details of their plans added a painful reality Lena didn’t want to share, and she shifted uncomfortably. However, he’d also avoided countering her logic with anything substantial.
He scrubbed his face and hunched his shoulders. “I can’t keep disproving false accusations. The police insisted Redmond Private Investigations has a nearly perfect track record. Please give me the benefit of the doubt and help me.”
“What did they really tell you?” she asked softly. “That Redmond never turned anyone away, and since the owner was deceased, I’d be inclined to do one last favor?”
He remained silent for a second, then added, “I’m sorry about your partner.”
She had to give him credit. She’d posed an awkward question, and he hadn’t lied about knowing Sam was gone. “Thank you, but it’s too late to try the sympathy tactic with me. Although Sam Redmond had the softheartedness of a beloved grandfather, I’m more pragmatic.” A bald-faced lie, since she was actually considering this case.
Philmont rose and stuffed his hands into his pockets, pacing slowly toward the sole window in the room. “Then don’t do it to help me. I don’t care why Shanae left. I need to know that they are both safe.” He glanced at her over his shoulder, rage gone. Deep lines of despair still creased his face, distorting his mouth, dragging his eyes into darker shadows. “Please, Ms. Juarez. I’m begging you. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. All I can think of is what would force her to leave, and the options I come up with are bad versions of Hollywood movie plots.”
Lena released a heavy sigh. She hadn’t even heard the details and already knew this wasn’t going to end well. Hardly the final good-bye she wanted for her run on this job that had at least been successful if not enjoyable.
“Have you considered what happens if we don’t find the resolution you want?” A practical question she didn’t want to ask. He could be correct. His wife and son might have fallen into a bad situation—one they might not survive. His answer would show some inner layers of his character. If he practiced deception as an art form, then she expected a smooth delivery.
“If someone has hurt them, I want justice.” His breath became rapid as he struggled with words, his fists clenching even as he shook his head. “I’m not considering they’re—” Mouth tight, he looked away, then back. “You don’t know me, but you don’t need to in order to find them. You can save them no matter what you think of me.”
The speed with which the anger erupted shocked her. Subtly, she braced herself against the desk, but tears glistened again in his eyes. Devastation at the possible loss of his family permeated his tense expression. He’d clearly considered the worst night after night and was already killing himself, drowning in the possibilities. Lena could leave him alone, wandering down that road with no hope, but no good came out of giving up too soon. Everyone needed closure of some sort.
However, vigilantism was still a crime. Adhering to the legal system’s form of justice was high on her moral code. “Should something have gone wrong and we don’t succeed, I won’t help you get revenge. We’d both be culpable. I can’t do that.”
He nodded slowly. “I realize the consequences. I wouldn’t involve you.”
“That wasn’t the assurance I was looking for,” she said sharply.
For a second, his lips pressed together so hard, they were almost invisible. “I would know if they were…gone. I believe that. So my priority is finding them alive.” He stared at her, evidently done begging.
Again, she believed him. Darn it. She’d been forty minutes from having the boxes finished, the door locked, and another chapter of her life ended.
She could still walk away. She could send him off with a shrug and a platitude.
Not her style. Service, loyalty, honor—everywhere her life turned, those pesky values kept creeping in.
She muttered a Hail Mary beneath her breath. Then, with a shake of her head, she waved him back toward his chair. “First, we agree that I work this case alone. You won’t interfere.”
Posture still rigid, he seemed to mull that over, but finally nodded.
She didn’t believ
e for a minute he’d conceded. His stubbornness had deposited him on her doorstep. Just because she accepted the job didn’t mean he’d sleep at night or stop his search. For her, that classified him as committed, not as an abusive husband and father. But who knew?
She pulled a notepad and pen out of a still-open box and sank into her desk chair. “Start at the beginning. Tell me about your wife and son.”
2
Black Haven Stronghold, Montana
Glacier National Park
Deacon tapped his fingers on the passenger door of the SUV and gritted his teeth. The view of snow-topped glaciers visible through the windshield didn’t reduce the heat swelling inside his body. With an insistent thrum, rising power inflamed his muscles and pushed against his skin until he felt held together by vapor, not flesh. Only a bit farther.
“Your Seattle lieutenant has been calling for the last few days.” Wharton gave him a brief, speculative look. He’d remained uncharacteristically silent since picking Deacon up at the airport. “Marsh will only speak to you.”
“Must have made Trim’s day.”
“After his third call where he refused to leave details, she delegated his inquiries to me. With no more success, I should add.”
“I’ll take care of it when I get in the office,” said Deacon. He closed his eyes as they passed through the last few miles preceding the stronghold’s hidden access. White reflected behind his eyelids, nauseatingly bright. Just a few more minutes.
