Wolves of Haven: Lone

by Danae Ayusso

  Wolves of Haven: Lone

  Wolves of Haven: Lone

  Midpoint

  Wolves of Haven

  Book One: Lone

  Danae Ayusso

  Copyright © 2014 Danae Ayusso All Rights Reserved

  Published by Geeks on Ink

  This story is copyrighted and property rights of Danae Ayusso. This is for personal entertainment use only, any reselling, redistribution or online publishing is strictly prohibited by law. This story may not be reproduced, distributed, modified or reposted to other websites.

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  Stand License Statement

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ***~~~***

  All characters and situations are fictional. Any similarities to an actual person or persons and situations are purely coincidental and rather impressive.

  Due to the wide variety of genres that I write, and my broad fan base, I categorize each book/series/collection with a rating to prevent my younger audience from accidentally purchasing a book that isn’t appropriate for their age group.

  BOOK RATING:

  SUPERNATURAL MYSTERY/SUSPENSE

  **Adult situations and language, mature and sexual content**

  For more information about the series and the author please check out

  www.danaeayusso.com

  info@danaeayusso.com

  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorDanaeAyusso

  Cover Art By:

  Geeks on Ink

  The banquet hall was filled with local government officials and Boston’s finest. Most would say that the gala was well overdue, but to the ‘man of the hour’ it was an annoying dog and pony show. Sergeant Detective de Wolfe had never been a fan of banquets and office parties, and she would have been a no-show that night if it wouldn’t have been for Police Superintendent Manning and Captain Damian Nikas informing her that attendance wasn’t optional. A rarely seen defiant side of Sergeant Detective Akia de Wolfe reared its head, so the Sergeant Detective opted for a slinky cocktail dress and high heels, makeup, and left her hair down; the complete opposite of how anyone on the force had ever seen her in all the years she had called the Boston PD home.

  “As I live and breathe,” Sergeant Darren Snider mused, joining Akia at the bar in the corner where she was trying to hide. His dark eyes attempted to discretely eye her body from under his bushy gray eyebrows, but the smirk twitching under his mustache made it more than obvious that he liked what he saw.

  Akia gave him a look, trying to keep from gagging in repulsion, then popped a pill in her mouth and swallowed it dry.

  “Damn, I didn’t know you had such a hot-bod under those jeans and shirts you normally wear,” he said before bringing his tenth watered down whiskey of the evening to his lips. “Have you given much thought into moving to Narcotics?” he asked. “The guys would love some eye candy in the unit.”

  She shook her head in resignation; Snider never gave her a second glance or so much as said her name in the past five years that she’s been in C-11, and yet now he was undressing her with his eyes and fighting the urge to lean into her and ask if she wanted to go back to his place tonight.

  Men were disgusting pigs, in her opinion.

  “Homicide, Snider,” Akia reminded him. “Narcotics doesn’t do anything for me. Why don’t you take it easy, sober up some,” she said, taking his drink from him, “and I’ll have Captain call you a cab.”

  He pulled his drink away from her, causing the amber colored contents to fly across the bar and all over the man standing at the other end.

  “Oh shit,” Snider grumbled under his breath. “Sorry, Captain,” he said, breaking eye contact with the narrowed, sapphire eyes glaring at him.

  Captain Damian Nikas fought to keep from growling under his breath in irritation. “As much as I hate to admit it,” he sneered, “de Wolfe is correct; call it a night.” He pulled a handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket and used it to wipe the whiskey from his chin and the front of his pristine black dress shirt.

  Akia fought to keep from rolling her eyes. Captain Nikas’ attitude and smug superiority was something she had been on the receiving end of since the moment she walked through the doors at his precinct fresh off of patrol. The Captain was short with everyone, his reputation was golden because of his no nonsense way of doing things, and in his opinion, rules and the law were not to be broken. As much as Akia hated to admit it, she admired that about him, but she’d never tell him that.

  Snider nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he said then headed towards the exit, not-so-discreetly brushing against Akia as he passed.

  Once the drunken, stumbling Sergeant was out of sight, Akia slid his car keys down the bar towards Captain Nikas. His hand slammed down on them, stopping their progression so they didn’t hit the floor.

  “Pick pocketing is against the law,” he reminded her under his breath before pocketing the keys.

  “So is drinking and driving, but only one is a felony,” she retorted with a smirk. “Could you imagine the newspapers tomorrow if one of Captain Nikas’ Narcotics goons was caught in a DUI?”

  “Indeed,” Captain Nikas sneered.

  Akia tried to keep from laughing at the irritable Captain’s expense. “If there is nothing else, Sir,” she said then started to walk away.

  “Expect my dry cleaning bill,” he informed her.

  She stopped in mid-step and her head dropped; that she should have foreseen. “Of course,” she grumbled under her breath. “Heaven forbid your designer duds get a bit of whiskey on them.”

  “And that is why you should expect the bill,” he retorted, walking past her. “If it wasn’t for that handkerchief you’re wearing, I wouldn’t smell of cheap alcohol.”

  Akia bit her tongue; she didn’t want to earn an award and a black mark in her file for insubordination all on the same night. She watched Captain Nikas walk away, her eyes flickering to his backside once as he went.

  “It’s a shame the hot ones are always gay or gigantic assholes,” Detective Marcia Jones commented, joining Akia. “Seriously,” she said, her head tilting to the side as she admired the muscular backside that was expertly presented in designer slacks, across the banquet hall, “such a bitter sonuvabitch with an ass like that has to be against the law.”

  Akia shook her head, trying to keep from laughing. “Jonesy, men like that are selfish lovers, and the unable to love them but quick to leave them types. Not something your needy, romantic ass could handle at the moment.”

  Marcia sighed. “True, but damn; that is a fine piece of ass. Too bad his personality sucks.”

  Akia eyed the fine piece of ass in question from across the room; his back was to them, but his presence stood out amongst the crowd: six-two, broad shoulders, head full of short black curls that were always restrained by hair product in an attempt to keep them hidden, olive complexion true to his Greek heritage, thick black lashes encased sapphire blue eyes that were cold, and wide lips that never parted to reveal his white smile. He was the youngest Captain in Boston PD history, worked his way up from beat cop to Detective, Sergeant in the SAU, and a stint in I.A. secured him next in line for Captain, his family were cops from around the country, his old man retiring from the Boston PD five years ago just as his progeny escalated to rank of Captain. “You don’t play where you work, Jonesy, you know that,” she reminded her. “Besides, a man with his short hairs in a twist, as that man
obviously has, isn’t worth wasting your time admiring. You and the rest of them heading out for drinks after this?” she asked, changing the subject.

  Marcia made a face. “Yes, you should join us, but I know you won’t,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But just this once can’t you make an attempt to be one of the guys with us? This is the last time we’ll be partners,” she whined then pouted her bottom lip out.

  Everyone knew that Sergeant Detective Akia de Wolfe didn’t drink, didn’t go out with coworkers, and…honestly, they weren’t entirely sure what she did. The woman was complicated, but at the same time she appeared so simplistic that it was insulting. She was never late to work, her paperwork and reports were impeccable, she had a sixth sense when it came to lying, and had a perfect arrest record. The only other person on the force that could boast such was Captain Nikas, and that, what the others assumed, was his problem with the self-contained Sergeant Detective.

  “I’ll think about it, but I make no promises,” Akia said. That was what she always said, and instead of telling her partner yes or no to drinks, she’ll just disappear for the night. “Are you excited to start with the HTU?” she asked, changing the subject.

  Marcia knew what Akia was doing, but she didn’t expect anything less from her soon to be former partner. “I guess. Took me long enough to get there, and my mom is overly excited about it. My old man still thinks I should be answering phones, but whatever. Have they told you who’ll replace me yet? Ooh, how about that sexy blond that transferred from I.A.? He’s hot, and recently divorced from what I heard.”

  “Baggage I don’t do,” Akia reminded her. “And I don’t do cops. I don’t do co-workers. And I don’t do blondes. Next?” she mused with a chuckle.

  Before the annoying Detective that apparently moonlighted as a matchmaker from Hell could say anything, Police Superintendent Manning and Captain Nikas took the stage and asked for the audience’s attention.

  Manning smiled, his aged face was animated and warm, and it was one of the things that Akia liked most about the perpetually optimistic man. “I’m glad to see such a wonderful turnout tonight,” he said, fidgeting with his note cards at the podium. “In my opinion this overlooking of one of Boston’s finest is inexcusable.”

  Captain Nikas’ top lip quivered as he fought keep from snarling, the only sign of any type of loss of composure the man had; his back was ramrod straight, shoulders back, head held high with a sense of pride, face hard and as unreadable as stone, and eyes focused on the Superintendent.

  Manning chuckled, shaking his head. “It wasn’t as if the honoree of the hour was overly excited about the idea either,” he added and everyone shouted their agreement.

  Akia groaned, wishing that she could crawl into a dark hole somewhere and hide: she hated attention.

  “Sergeant Detective de Wolfe, join us,” he said, waving her up there.

  “I’d rather not, Sir,” Akia called out, getting many chuckles from her coworkers in return.

  Captain Nikas leaned into the microphone. “Sergeant Detective, get up here,” he said, his tone left no room for argument.

  “Oooh,” the crowd mocked; they were well aware that the Captain wasn’t overly fond of the attention shy woman.

  Akia huffed then weaved her way through the crowd and up on the stage, purposely standing as far away from the podium and spotlight as possible.

  Manning looked to Captain Nikas. “Is she always this difficult?” he asked with a chuckle; already well aware of the answer.

  “Yes,” was Captain Nikas’ curt response.

  “Very well,” Manning said with a chuckle then opened up the velvet medal box in front of him. “Seven years ago I met the shy woman trying to hide in the shadows. A flip of the coin, a gamble of chance, call it Fate if you will, set into motion nearly a year of pie ala mode that started an impressive career. The instructors at the Academy had nothing but glowing things to say about Akia…and a few melee instructors would have if their jaws weren’t wired shut, I’m sure.”

  The audience laughed; Akia was one of the best at hand to hand combat at the precinct.

  She groaned and blushed; only Superintendent Manning called her Akia on the force, everyone else called her de Wolfe or Detective.

  “As a beat cop, Akia singlehandedly got more drugs off of the street and had more felony arrests than any other traffic cop on record… Even broke your record, Damian,” he mused, giving the Captain a look. “Quickly Akia advanced to the Special Operations Unit, was the lead on SWAT for two years, and did a stint in the Family Justice Division before moving to Homicide. The awards and citations that decorate Akia are very impressive and should have accelerated her through the ranks, and yet she refused and felt most useful in Homicide. As much as I wish I could have argued with her-”

  “That didn’t stop you,” she amusingly added, and the audience laughed.

  Manning smiled. “Yes, I know, I said it daily, but your most recent case only iterated that you were correct and Homicide needed you.” He turned back to the audience. “Akia was able to, as if it was a sixth sense, connect seven cold cases with a recent homicide, securing a guilty verdict without a plea deal off for the serial killer we didn’t even know was prowling our streets. With a perfect arrest record, Akia has gone one for one against the previous record holder, and at this rate she’ll have her own precinct in record time.”

  No thanks, Akia silently grumbled.

  “It gives me great pleasure to present one of Boston’s highest honors it can bestow upon an Officer of the law, the Medal of Valor, to Lieutenant Akia de Wolfe,” he said with a smile, and the audience applauded.

  Stunned, which didn’t happen often, Akia shook the Superintendent’s hand then took the box containing the medal.

  “Congratulations,” Captain Nikas grumbled under his breath, and she absently nodded.

  “Speech! Speech! Speech!” the audience chanted, well aware that Akia wanted to turn and run from the stage.

  Manning pulled her up to the microphone.

  She cleared her throat a few times, her attention on the medal in a bed of velvet in her hands.

  The room quieted down and her colleagues eagerly waited to hear what she had to say, especially since she was a woman of very few words unless in an interrogation or court room.

  Akia leaned into the microphone more. “Thank you,” was all she said before leaning back then headed off stage.

  After many handshakes and congratulations, and those that forced her to come being noticeably absent at the moment, Akia excused herself to use the restroom then ducked out an emergency exit so she could go home before someone tried pulling her out onto the dance floor; she didn’t dance.

  Boston had been home to Akia for the past eight years. After waiting tables for a few months in order to make ends meet, the diner she worked at was held up by a crackhead that was looking to get cash for his next fix. Not so lucky for him, the coroner was the one that came to collect the body once the police were done questioning her. One of those supervisors that came to the scene was the then Captain Manning. He told her that the police academy might be a good fit for her and that he had some pull and could get the tuition waved for her. He even offered to get her the needed equipment for the twenty-week program.

  Suspicious, she turned his offer down. No one in their right mind would just give a complete stranger, a paranoid mess like her, three-grand for tuition then another grand for equipment, not to mention room and board. It didn’t make sense to her in the least. But Captain Manning was relentless, and every night after work for over a year he’d stop by the diner for coffee and pie, and each time he’d tell her about the cases his Detectives were stuck on, and some of the amusing arrests. He talked, and she listened as she wiped down tables and refilled his coffee. Then, one night, she sat down and asked him pointblank why he was doing this to her.

  Captain Manning simply smiled and said it was Fate.

  Fate wasn’t something Akia was interested in. Fate
had done nothing but bring her heartache and pain, so doing something because it was Fate was the very last thing she ever intended to do. But, at the same time, she was curious about each case and arrests that Captain Manning told her about. There was something about a mystery that always piqued her interest—Sherlock Holmes’ books were her favorite when younger—so she offered him a compromise. Since he said it was Fate, she would let Fate decide.

  They flipped a coin.

  Heads she’d take his offer, tails he’d never bother her again.

  It was the best flip of the coin Akia had ever made.

  There was something about law enforcement that she loved, and it gave her life a sense of purpose when she honestly didn’t have one. Boston was only supposed to be a stopping point on her journey to nowhere, but she found herself calling it home before she realized it. Captain Manning leased her a rent controlled apartment in a building designated for senior citizens—it belonged to his mother who passed away, and he inherited it—and she paid him back, to his dismay for everything, but Akia wouldn’t hear of being indebted to anyone, especially a superior. Keeping business and personal life separate was something that she put nearly as much effort into as she did her job. Where most say that it’s a very fine line between business and pleasure, Akia made it a habit to have a canyon between the two in order to prevent complications and misunderstandings. She had worked much too hard, overcoming more than anyone could possibly imagine, to risk it by crossing that line.

  And that was exactly how she liked it.

  Akia slid the front door key into the lock, and it easily disengaged before she pushed the door open. Her attention was on the medal in her hand; the promotion was a complete surprise, and the look on Captain Nikas’ face hadn’t hinted of a promotion being in her future in the least; the stubborn man was very frustrating. Absently she kicked the door shut behind her before locking it, and when she did, the smell of lilacs and cotton became much more potent, and it caused her eyes to snap up.

  The hallway leading from the entryway was adorned with candles that swayed as she walked down the rose petal littered hallway. When Joni Mitchell started singing, she smiled—he knew it was her favorite—and walked into the open loft space. The metal and wood dining room table was set; tall, lit, tapered candles marked the center of the table setting, more rose petals were sprinkled around the surface of the table, a silver bucket of ice housed a bottle of champagne waiting to be opened with two crystal flutes, a bowl of fresh strawberries sat next to a chilled bowl of whipped cream and a plate of peach slices, and laying across the expertly folded napkin marking her seat was a long stem rose with a small jewelry box and folded white cardstock.