Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1] (10 page)

She still couldn’t believe she’d had the nerve to pull that old dirt bike out from the side of the cabin Friday night. It had been years, since she was a teenager, since she’d ridden. Her ass and inner thighs had been tingling for hours after getting off of that thing.

Heather had given up all of her tomboy antics when she’d headed off to college. If she wanted to make it as a big-shot reporter, no one could know about her small-town life, or her humble upbringing. She’d left all that behind for the city lights and the glamour, and look where it had her at the moment, too damned tired to even laugh about it.

Things were even more out of hand when Heather and her photographer, Joey, arrived at City Hall. Large drops of rain splattered on Heather’s silk blouse, which had been the first thing she’d grabbed when stumbling through her morning routine so she’d make it to work on time. She hurried through the crowd, following Joey inside.

“Give me a second to get rolling.” Joey had worked with her for over a year now, and had a gift for catching some award-winning photographs.

The two of them made a damn good team usually. They’d been assigned to work together right after he’d been hired on by the paper. At the time, she’d been insulted, being given some young pup fresh out of college as her photographer. But since she was one of the few reporters who actually had her own photographer, she didn’t bitch. Heather blinked hard, her eyes burning with fatigue as she looked down at the notes she’d quickly scribbled to bring her up to date with what was going on.

“Where’s your cheat book on werewolves?” Joey asked, his camera strapped around his neck. Already he was taking off his lens cap.

Tall and skinny, with long, straight brown hair that he always kept in a ponytail, Joey gave her his “let’s go get them” smile. He had way too much energy today.

And she was all thumbs. A major story was breaking here. Damn. Damn. Damn.

“It’s in my bag.” She almost dropped her shoulder bag that she hauled everywhere when working. Finding her black, three-ring binder, she quickly flipped through the pages. “Okay. Here is their pack leader. See him anywhere around?”

With a quick glance at the picture of Johann Rousseau, Joey scanned the crowd.

“There he is,” he said, and then almost dragged her through the large foyer where everyone talking was echoing loudly all around them.

She fumbled for her handheld recorder when she spotted a man matching the picture. “Johann Rousseau, one question, please?” she asked, holding the recorder in front of him.

“I don’t have any comments at this time.”

“How can humans help your werewolves get their own school?”

Joey almost dropped his camera when he looked at her like she was nuts. Johann stopped, giving her a careful once-over. Aware that he could smell out her emotions, she took a slow, deep breath, and hoped she managed a pleasant smile. She’d just gained the pack leader’s undivided attention.

“Have we met before?” he asked, looking distracted.

“Heather Graham with the
Prince George Tribune
. I’d appreciate any comments you might have time to offer.”

A man next to Johann whispered something in his ear, and Heather stood with bated breath, praying Marc’s name wasn’t being mentioned. But no one could confirm what had happened the night before.

“I’ve seen no indication that humans want to help us in this matter, Miss Graham.” Johann was a good-looking man, with an easygoing manner. He smiled pleasantly when Joey snapped his picture.

Dressed casually in a button-down shirt and black jeans, she would never have guessed him a werewolf. He certainly wasn’t as big as Marc. But then she doubted any man or werewolf could come close to being as big as Marc.

“There isn’t funding for another school, and you know it,” someone yelled from off to the side.

“But their kids are destroying our school. They are animals and shouldn’t be allowed in our town.”

Heather scanned the crowd growing around her, while Joey let his camera angle toward whoever had just spoken. His flash went off repeatedly.

“The werewolves are taking over our town,” someone else yelled.

“Why don’t you want your werewolves in our schools?” One of her main competitors stuck his handheld tape recorder in Johann’s face.

Johann glared at the man. His tone remained calm though. “We aren’t asking for city funding, just the right to purchase land to build our own school.”

“Give them the land and get them away from us,” someone chanted.

“Can you tell us how cubs are different from human children?” Heather asked.

“You’re sounding like you’re sympathetic to their cause,” Joey hissed in her ear.

“We don’t want them in our schools anyway,” someone else yelled.

“They shouldn’t even be in City Hall,” someone else yelled.

There was some shoving behind her, and Heather fought to maintain her footing when she about fell into the pack leader.

Joey was snapping his camera furiously, but someone fell into him. Heather hit the stone wall hard, the pain riveting through her shoulder, and dropped her microphone.

“This is ridiculous,” she heard Johann say.

She grabbed his arm. “Grant me an interview,” she said, and then he was pulled away from her by several men surrounding him.

“Do you deny the fact that fighting among the children has increased eighty percent since your werewolves have started going to our schools?” she heard someone ask.

Remembering how Marc’s younger brothers had scrapped in their backyard the night before, she didn’t doubt it. Rubbing her shoulder and willing the pain away, she tried to get her bearings in the ever-growing crowd that was obviously turning mean.

A quick glance at the growing crowd inside City Hall, and she noticed several police officers ordering people to calm down. Immediately she tried to find Marc, but Joey was grabbing her arm.

“Come on, their leader is headed this way.” He grabbed her arm and dragged her through the foyer full of people.

They were just behind Johann when he disappeared into one of the meeting rooms and the doors were closed behind him.

“If they get the city to give them money to build their school, we’ll tie it up in court for years,” a man bellowed loudly behind her.

Heather turned as another person spoke.

“I don’t see why you want their kind with our children anyway. They could change and attack our kids.” The woman who spoke sounded close to tears.

“As long as they don’t get a nicer school than ours,” someone else yelled.

“Next thing you know they’ll be running for office.”

Heather stuck her microphone in the face of one of the men who had been with Johann before he entered the room. “Do you see any of your pack running for city positions?” she asked.

“I think it would help in getting us fairly represented,” he answered.

“After all, there are as many of us as there are of you,” another werewolf spoke up. “In fact, we were here first.”

“Like hell you were,” someone shouted.

Heather wasn’t sure who threw the first punch. She didn’t have time to react when suddenly she found herself in the middle of a brawl. Falling to the ground, doing her best to protect her recorder and microphone, she scrambled out of the way.

Large hands grabbed her, and before she could react, she was being dragged backwards, quickly.

She was outside the building before she had a chance to regain her footing. Marc almost leapt down the front stairs of City Hall with her in his arms.

“Your day is done. Go home. Now.” He looked fierce, every muscle in his body taut, as if he would pounce without a moment’s notice.

Wearing his cop uniform, it looked like his body might explode out of his clothing at any minute. His expression was hard, his lips pursed while deep blue eyes devoured her. She sucked in her breath, unable to pull her gaze from him.

Heather straightened her shirt, half-checking that she wasn’t injured and to make sure she still had her tape recorder and all of her other stuff. Going home sounded damn good to her. But she needed to be here. There was a breaking story going on inside that building. Not only would it help her with her article, but she could make the front page if she could tap this story.

At the moment, protesting to Marc didn’t appear to be in her best interest.

Joey came hurrying down the stairs of the building, looking worried and anxious.

“Thanks, officer,” he said to Marc, barely acknowledging him as he reached for Heather. “I think if we head around the back side of the building, we can catch the werewolves there. I bet they leave that way.”

“Heather.” Marc’s growl wasn’t ignored by either one of them.

Joey looked at him, puzzled. Heather cleared her throat, her heart suddenly pounding too hard in her chest.

“I still have some work to do here.” No man, or werewolf, was going to bully her.

“I just told you to go home.” Marc didn’t look away from her, narrowing her world down to just the two of them.

The rain started falling harder, and she knew her silk blouse clung to her. She hadn’t even thought to grab an umbrella, and she had a feeling her lace bra was easily seen through the material of her shirt.

“What did she do wrong, officer?” Joey asked, stuffing his camera under his shirt while he squinted against the rain. Large drops soaked his clothes, quickly making him appear even skinnier and smaller next to Marc.

The rain didn’t seem to faze Marc a bit.

“The officer here was just concerned I got hurt inside,” Heather said quickly, feeling her makeup begin to run as rain fell harder by the minute.

“The officer?” Marc put his hands on his hips, looking like he might throw her over his shoulder, or across the street, she wasn’t sure which.

Heather wiped rain from her eyes, realizing she’d offended him by implying they didn’t know each other. Well hell!

“Heather. I’m getting soaked. Are we going to nab this story, or what?” Joey gave Marc a sideways glance as he spoke through his teeth. He nodded toward the building, his expression pleading with her to come on.

Marc’s phone buzzed on his waist. Heather looked up into the hardened glare that he had fixed on her. Soaking wet, he still looked damned good.

“Looks like we both have jobs to do,” she said, knowing if he didn’t understand, then he wasn’t meant for her.

What was she thinking? Did she seriously think she could make a go of having a relationship with a werewolf?

* * * * *

Marc accepted the fact that the force used him to handle the work the humans weren’t capable of doing. He was stronger, faster, more capable of tracking than any other man on the force. He also accepted the fact that his pack relied on him for much of the same kind of work.

So when Rousseau called him later that evening, he figured the pack needed assistance with something, and agreed to come out without question. Not to mention he needed to get out of his den. He’d been pacing ever since he got home, outraged with Heather’s denial of knowing him, and had been about ready to do exactly what he told himself he wouldn’t do, and head over to her place.

Instead he decided a run through the backwoods to the pack leader’s den would do him some good. He undid the cloth bag he’d tied around his neck when he resumed his human form in the yard behind Rousseau’s home. Dressing without ceremony, he sniffed the place out, aware of more than several werewolves inside the small home.

Rousseau’s mate answered the door, her cub in her arms. She stood to the side, letting him in with a friendly nod. Several
lunewulfs
sat at the kitchen table, within view of the front door.

“There you are, McAllister. Come on in.” Johann Rousseau gestured with his hand.

Marc nodded to the men at the table. He knew all of them, and sensed the tension in the air. As he suspected, his help was needed for something. He waited to see what it was.

Instead of filling him in, Rousseau began talking about the events at City Hall earlier that day. Somehow Marc didn’t think this was why he’d been called over, but he listened while the werewolves around the table expressed their concerns.

“The humans are right. Our cubs don’t interact with their children. And we’ve never put them in their schools before.”

“We can’t just build a school, or even home-school them, without the proper permits from Prince George. Times aren’t like they used to be.” Johann stated what they all already knew.

“Well, I’ve got the lumber ready to go. I don’t need a damned permit to build a building on my own land.” Terry Roth was an older
lunewulf
, and known to be set in his ways.

Marc knew firsthand the werewolf didn’t think he needed a permit to brew his own wine and sell it on his land, either.

“We’ve home-schooled our pups for years,” the other
lunewulf
at the table said. “The humans are just making our lives hell, and they’re doing it on purpose, you know that, don’t you?”

The phone rang, and Rousseau’s mate picked a cordless up from the counter.

“Johann, there’s a situation going on down at Howley’s.” She adjusted her cub, who was the spitting image of his father, on her hip when the infant reached for the phone. “Apparently some of the human college kids and some of our pack are in a fight.”