Wild About You (3 page)

Her heart lurched. The old gate house! Just the other night, she and Roman had discussed the possibility of making the old house their new home. Only a few miles from the school, it was part of the estate, so they already owned it. Unfortunately, it was in sad shape. A money pit, her mother called it.

But that made it the perfect project for the International Home Wreckers! It was exactly the sort of historic gem that they specialized in renovating.

She shoved the box back under the bed and jumped to her feet. Did she dare do this? Play matchmaker to a were-bear? Her heart raced, and for the first time in three months, she realized she was grinning.

She grabbed the games off Howard’s bookcase and rushed back to the family room. In a few seconds, she had Angus’s number ringing on her cell phone.

“Hi, Angus. Can you bring Howard back right away?”

“Is there something wrong, lass?” he asked.

“I’m worried about my children’s safety during the day, especially Tino. I’m afraid he’ll try something dangerous, and Howard is the only one who can keep him safe for me. I need him back.”

There was a moment of silence before Angus replied. “His vacation time ran out over a week ago. There was a mission I wanted to send him on, but he refused to go.”

“What?” Her nerves tensed. “He’s not quitting, is he?”

“He dinna say he was, but the bugger stopped answering my calls. I sent Dougal and Phil to hunt him down.”

Shanna winced. “He’s not in any danger, is he?”

“We doona know,” Angus said. “That’s why we’re looking for him. I would have sent more lads, but we have three missions going on right now. We’re short on manpower.”

“I see.” She took a deep breath. Finding a babysitter for her children probably seemed trivial compared to the other issues Angus had to deal with. But that didn’t make her worry any less. “If you find Howard, can you tell him that we need him? Tino is asking for him.”

“Aye, we’ll tell him.”

“Thank you.” Shanna dropped her cell phone back into her handbag.

It wasn’t like Howard to take more vacation days than he was allotted. Or to ignore phone calls from his boss. Angus had sounded annoyed that he’d been forced to track him down.

What on earth was Howard up to?

Chapter Two

H
oward peered over the edge of the cliff. Even in the dim light of a cloud-covered moon, his sharp eyesight could make out the jagged rocks where Carly had been discovered all those years ago, her body broken, her long brown hair matted with blood. His first love, the girl he’d hoped to marry. Murdered on the night of their senior prom.

His gaze drifted to the small collection of lights that marked the nearby town of Port Mishenka on the eastern coast of the Alaska Peninsula. Twenty years had passed since he’d last been here, but not much had changed. The most noticeable lights were still those that illuminated the high school football field. He’d been a hero there at one time, but none of the residents would welcome him back now. Not when they believed him guilty of Carly’s murder. Her family still claimed he had thrown her off the cliff along with a few guys.

It was impossible to deny all the charges. He had tossed three guys off the cliff. Werewolves. He’d believed them all dead until two months ago. Now he knew the truth. The worst of the three had survived.

He didn’t blame Carly’s family for turning against him. They were heartbroken over her death. He’d felt the same way for years. Heartbroken and guilty, for there was a kernel of truth to the family’s claim. Their daughter had died because of him. She’d become an unwitting pawn in Rhett Bleddyn’s game of revenge.

He had found little solace in believing he’d killed Rhett. The bastard had found the perfect way to torture him by making him feel responsible for Carly’s death.

But now the truth was out. Rhett Bleddyn was still alive.

And the game was back on. Unfortunately Rhett had the hometown advantage. Recently acknowledged as the Pack Master of all of Alaska, he had hundreds of werewolves on his team. Howard could only call on a few were-bears from their dwindling island community. What he lacked in manpower, he had to make up for with superior timing and strategy.

Speaking of timing, it was about time for the two men climbing up the mountainside to finally reach him. The scent of werewolf wafted toward him, and Howard instinctively squeezed his fist around the carved wooden hiking stick he’d borrowed from his grandfather. The staff was thick enough to use as a weapon and about six foot four inches long, ending right at his eye level.

He relaxed his grip. This werewolf was one of the few Lycans he called friend. Werewolves always assumed they had the most advanced sense of smell, but that was one area where a were-bear had them beat. He could distinguish Phil’s scent over two miles away. Not that Phil normally smelled differently from other werewolves. It was the influence of his wife, Vanda, that made him unique. She had him using some kind of fancy shampoo and conditioner.

Phil had obviously caught Howard’s scent and was tracking him down. What the werewolf might not realize was that Howard wanted to be found tonight. It was all part of the strategy.

Phil’s companion was a little harder to figure out. The lack of any strong scent indicated a vampire. The smell of damp sheep suggested a kilt-wearing Scotsman who’d been caught in a light rain. But which Scottish vampire? Was Angus so pissed that he’d come in person?

They were moving quietly up the mountain path, as if they could sneak up on a were-bear. The thought made Howard smile. There was no mistaking the soft swish of a kilt or the grinding of Phil’s boots.

Not Angus, he decided. Phil was taking the lead, and he wouldn’t do that if the boss was with him. Ian or Robby? Or maybe it was Connor, resuming his work after a long honeymoon.

Howard’s smile faded. All of the guys were getting married, having children. That sort of domestic bliss was unlikely to happen for him. There were a few female were-bears on the island, but they were either taken or related to him.

His gaze drifted back to the rocks where Carly had died twenty years ago. She had trusted him completely, even after he’d confessed to her that he was a were-bear. Since her, he hadn’t met another mortal female he had felt he could trust with his secret.

There had been a time when the pain and guilt of Carly’s death had nearly crippled him. All through college and his football career he’d allowed himself to suffer as a way to punish himself. But as the years went by, his burden of guilt slowly changed. Instead of feeling guilty for wanting to forget, he now felt guilty that he could barely recall her face. How cruel life was that she had paid the price for Rhett Bleddyn’s rage.

Death was too good for Rhett. Howard wanted to watch the sick bastard squirm. He’d have to go about it secretly and stealthily in order to keep his people safe, but with the proper strategy, he felt confident about pulling it off. And if he avenged Carly, then maybe he could finally lay his guilt to rest. He’d been banished for long enough.

A cool breeze swept up from Mishenka Bay, and he closed his eyes to focus fully on the scent—a glorious mixture of salty sea and lush forest.
Home
. He took a deep breath to let the comforting fragrance seep into his soul, and a new face formed in his mind. Elsa. Beautiful Elsa. She was invading his thoughts more and more each day. Unfortunately that only proved that no matter how clever a strategist he tried to be, he was still a fool.

Elsa Bjornberg was a celebrity, a breathtaking, gut-wrenching beauty, who traveled the world for her successful career. Why would she want to meet some guy from an obscure island in Mishenka Bay, Alaska? Especially a guy who was oversized and turned into a real bear on occasion. The cold reality was that they would never meet. He’d known months ago that his obsession with her was ridiculous. Pathetic. Juvenile. It was embarrassing, so he kept it secret.

And yet, whenever he saw her on television, he felt drawn to her. Not just mildly attracted but somehow irrevocably attached to her. It didn’t make sense, but knowing that didn’t make the strange feeling go away.

The soft scuffle of a footstep behind him made him stiffen. Holy crap, he’d allowed himself to get distracted. He masked his reaction by swinging the staff up and across his shoulders, gripping each end with his hands.

With his back to them, he listened carefully as he gazed up at the moon, a dull silver disc shrouded in clouds. It would be full tomorrow night. If everything went according to plan, he’d score a touchdown. “Hello, Phil.”

There was a moment of silence, then a whoosh of air as Phil Jones exhaled. “How did you know it was me? Alaska is overrun with werewolves.”

“They don’t use that fancy, girly shampoo.” Howard smiled when he heard a low growl in response.

A slight mechanical click emanated from the vampire behind him. Could it be Dougal Kincaid? The Vamp had lost his right hand in combat a few years ago, and Roman had recently fitted him with a mechanical one.

“Dougal?” Howard turned, widening his smile when he saw he’d been correct. “It’s good to see you again. You arrived last night?”

The Scotsman tilted his head, studying him. “Someone told you?”

“No. It rained last night, and your kilt smells like wet sheep.”

Dougal’s mouth curled with amusement. “Ye’re in trouble with Angus, ye ken.”

“Not enough trouble, if he only sent two of you.”

“Believe me, he’s pissed,” Phil grumbled, then shoved his long, shaggy hair back over his shoulders. “It’s cheaper to use the same shampoo that my wife buys.”

“I understand.” Howard gave him a sympathetic smile. “I won’t mention it again since you’re so . . . sensitive about it.”

Phil’s eyes narrowed.

Dougal chuckled. “We have orders to take you back to Romatech immediately.”

Howard nodded, still smiling. “Good luck with that.”

Phil snorted. “What the hell are you up to, Howard?”

“I thought you’d never ask. I need more players on my team.”

“Team?” Dougal asked. “Ye’re playing a game?”

“Yes. It’s called Payback. It’ll be easier to score if I have a few more hands.” Howard slanted a wry look at the Vamp’s fake right hand. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Dougal wiggled the fingers on his mechanical hand. “Ye’d be surprised what I can do.”

“Tell it to the ladies.” Howard motioned to Phil. “Are you in?”

“If you’re getting back at Rhett Bleddyn, then yeah, I’m in. Angus can wait.”

Dougal scoffed. “Now there are two of you no’ following orders. Angus will be royally pissed.”

“Maybe not,” Phil argued. “He knows what an asshole Rhett is. The guy tried to force my sister into marriage. He was going to kill off my entire family and steal all our land and followers. He’s a power-hungry, ruthless bastard.”

Dougal nodded, then turned to Howard. “I can see why Phil wants revenge, but what do ye have against him?”

Howard remained silent, then swung his staff off his shoulders and planted one end in the gravelly dirt next to his feet. “I have my reasons. Are you in?”

Dougal’s hand produced a series of clicks as he curled the fingers into a fist, then stretched them back out. “What is the purpose of yer game? Are ye wanting to kill Bleddyn?”

“Do I look like a murderer?” Howard frowned when the two guys exchanged glances. “Okay. You’ve seen me kill, but only in battle.”

“You’re ferocious,” Phil muttered. “You rip heads off with a single swipe.”

“So I’m efficient,” Howard grumbled, then smiled. “No one has ever complained about my efficiency before.”

Phil snorted. “We’re just relieved you’re on our side.”

Howard’s mouth twitched. “Are you sure about that?”

Phil stiffened. “You big lummox, why don’t you—”

“Enough.” Dougal lifted a hand, then shot an annoyed look at Howard. “I need to know more before I decide. Do ye plan to lure Rhett into battle?”

“No.” Howard pointed his staff toward a few lights twinkling far out in Mishenka Bay. “You see that group of islands out there? They’re called the Bear Claw Islands ’cause there’s a big round one and four narrow ones extending north.”

Dougal moved closer to the cliff edge. “That’s where ye grew up?”

“Yes. On the big round one called The Paw.”

“We saw on your bio that you went to high school down there.” Phil motioned at the town below and snickered. “A were-bear playing football for the Port Mishenka Marmots? That had to be embarrassing.”

Howard arched a brow at him. “I kicked ass on that field. Would you care for a demonstration?”

“Enough, you two.” Dougal gestured to the Bear Claw Islands. “Does yer family still live there?”

“Yes. That group of islands and Kodiak Island to the north are where most were-bears live. We’re down to about a hundred now.”

“Shit.” Phil frowned at the islands. “You’re in danger of extinction.”

Howard sighed. “There was a time, a few hundred years ago, when were-bears flourished and covered the mainland. There were over a thousand of us. But then settlers began moving in, searching for gold, and werewolves moved in, wanting the land. The Alpha wolves tended to bite any guy who found gold, so he would become their minion.”

“And then they would have his gold,” Phil muttered.

Howard nodded. “The werewolves quickly amassed land and wealth. If someone had something they wanted, they simply bit him to bring him in line.”

“The were-bears dinna bite people?” Dougal asked.

“Not usually. It’s not in our nature to live in packs. Especially the male bears. We’re loners. Unfortunately, that always worked against us. We were spread out thin, each male bear taking a huge territory, and it made us vulnerable. A single were-bear might be able to defeat a small group of wolves, but they started attacking us in packs of thirty and forty.”

Dougal muttered a curse. “Ye wouldna stand a chance.”

“No. Eventually, in order to keep the cubs safe, most of the were-bears moved to these islands. To make a living, many of the men turned to fishing, but whenever a storm capsized a boat, we would lose five or six of them. With our numbers depleted, a loss like that was devastating.”