Elena Kincaid

 

Copyright © 2017

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

Logan sat with his feet propped up on his desk in his office. His chair squeaked as he swiveled in it. “I need a new fucking chair!”

“I’ve been telling you that for months,” Hannah called out from the front office.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he grumbled. “Damn nosy shifter hearing.”

“I heard that!”

He hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud, but couldn’t bring it upon himself to give a crap at the moment. He was bored. Very fucking bored. The last few cases he took on were way too easy and now he just wanted to get his hands a bit dirty and meet a challenge. He flung the copy of Men’s Magazine he had been holding onto his messy, mahogany desk and smiled wickedly at the small photo on the lower right hand side of the front page. “Asshole thought he could hide from me, did he?” Then again, perhaps the asshole in question was just messing with him and wanted to be found. There was his next challenge, he thought. It had, after all been three years since he had lain eyes on the rat bastard.

He heard the front door open. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, detecting a human male. He smelled faintly of expensive cigar smoke and peppermint, mixed in with a bergamot-scented aftershave. The man introduced himself to Hannah, Logan’s annoying but indispensable secretary, and though he would never admit this to her, she was someone he considered a friend.

He heard Hannah lift the receiver. “Your two o’clock is here, Mr. Munro,” she said into the phone, though it was only for show. The intercom went nowhere considering the fact that he had smashed his landline several years ago. He hadn’t bothered to replace it yet and wondered if the human would notice the absence of a phone on his desk.

Logan had actually forgotten he had an appointment today, and humans tended to be boring clients, however, he had nothing better to do. “Send him in,” he said quietly, knowing that only Hannah’s ears could hear.

“Go on in, Mr. Petridis.”

Logan stood after his potential client opened the door to his office and entered. He extended his hand for the man to shake when he reached his desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Petridis, and tell me what I can do for you.”

“Call me Constantine, please,” he replied with a moderately pronounced Greek accent as he sat down. The human, despite being a good six inches shorter than Logan’s six-foot-three, gave the impression of being a formidable man—or he would to other humans, at least. He had a head full of thick salt and pepper hair mixed in with black, he wore a serious expression, his face was sparingly lined with age, and his eyes were a bright bottled green, shrewd, assessing, and the brows above them were now furrowed in confusion as he stared at Logan’s desk.

Yep, he notices there is no phone.

“Ah,” the man said, though he did not elaborate on whatever revelation he had just had. After a beat, he added, “My girls are missing. I need you to find them and bring them home safely.”

“How long have they been missing?” Logan asked. “And wouldn’t this be more of a matter for the police?”

“One has been missing for three days now, and the other went after her yesterday,” Constantine replied. “I do not think it would be a good idea for law enforcement to get involved.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, mentally cursing the annoying squeak it made, and exhaled loudly. This was all he needed right now! It was true he usually got hired by independent contractors rather than bondsmen—wealthier clients who wanted to deal with their wayward family members their way, and most of whom were shifters like him—but he didn’t deal with family drama or love-struck teen runaways, that was for sure. “So let me get this straight, Constantine. Your daughter runs off and then your other one decides to chase after her and you want me to find them and drag their asses back here? With all due respect, sir, do I look like a private dick to you?”

The middle-aged man in front of him arched his brow at him sardonically.

Touché, Mr. Petridis. Logan would be the first to admit that he could definitely be a dick sometimes. Regardless. “I’m a bounty hunter, Constan—”

Before Logan even had time to finish his sentence, Constantine took out a stack of cash from his inner coat pocket and threw it down on the table. The hundred dollar bills were neatly wrapped in a currency strap into what Logan assessed amounted to ten grand.

“There’s your bounty,” Constantine said matter-of-factly. “You’ll get another ten thousand for each of my daughters once you return them safely to me.” He paused for a moment before adding, “She didn’t run off, Mr. Munro. She was taken.”

Taken! Now that sounded more up his alley. “Call me Logan.” Ten k was ten k, Logan thought as he leaned forward and folded his hands on top of his desk. Thirty grand in total would be even sweeter. “Start from the beginning,” Logan prompted. He saw the man visibly relax and that made him feel sorry for the guy. Logan wasn’t a father, but he understood the bonds of family, even when on the outs with one of his. Pack life had become considered antiquated, even cult-like amongst most shifters, and pretty much non-existent as of about a century ago, so it was family, including extended and close friends that were at the forefront for shifters. Someone had messed with Constantine’s family and due to his calmness and assuredness, and his lack of wanting to go to the police, this kidnapping was personal.

“I know what you are,” Constantine suddenly blurted, shocking the hell out of Logan. Wolves may live amongst humans, seamlessly blending in, but for the most part, their existence was kept secret.

“And what am I?” Logan asked.

“Twenty-three years ago,” Constantine began, “when my wife Maria and I still lived in Greece, I came outside to find a wolf cub in my backyard. My heart nearly stopped. That was because the wolf was playing with my then four-year-old daughter Theodora. Just as I was about to approach, prepared to take my daughter to safety, I heard my little Thea giggling as she cuddled the cub, and I saw that the little wolf meant her no harm. It was scared of me though, trembling when I approached. The clouds were looming on top of us, about to let loose a storm, so I decided to offer the cub shelter and food for the night.

“Imagine my surprise when I brought the wolf inside and it transformed into a ten-year-old girl before my very eyes. The child, Teresa, she told us about your world and about the rare True Alphas among them, like you are, born even stronger and faster than even most of your own kind. She told us that her parents were murdered by a teenaged alpha’s family when they refused to give up their daughter to them. The family claimed that since she was the mate of their alpha, then by all rights she belonged with them.”

“Whose rights exactly?” Logan snorted with disgust. These wolves definitely sounded like the cultists he detested, the ones who thought themselves superior with the desire to rule in packs once again and subjugate humans.

“I didn’t presume to know your ways then, nor do I now,” Constantine said. “She was only a scared little girl and we all fell in love with her. We left Greece and claimed Teresa as ours when we came to America, and now they have found us.”

Now Logan understood why this man needed his help. Constantine must have heard about him—his track record after all, was impeccable, whether he was hunting a wolf or a human. He smiled, feeling the blood lust from his inner wolf. This day had definitely gotten more interesting, he thought. “I’ll get both your daughters back. Teresa may be a lone wolf, but her senses are sharp, and I’ll intercept her before she tries to take on the pack on her own. And don’t worry, Theodora will be kept alive since they are more than likely using her as bait…” Constantine suddenly furrowing his brows caused Logan to pause mid-sentence.

“You are mistaken, Logan. It is my Teresa who has been taken. My Thea has gone after her.”

Constantine reached into his pocket and produced a photograph of his daughters. It was a close up, what appeared to be a possible selfie. The sisters were smiling brightly, and though they were not blood related, and bore no resemblance to each other, it was still easy to spot something familial about them. Logan felt his cock jump to immediate attention when closely examining the features of the one Constantine pointed out to be Thea. She very much resembled her father with her bottle-green eyes, heart-shaped face, and long, wavy, jet-black hair. Her nose was small and a little upturned, her lips full, and the dimples in both cheeks only added to her somewhat exotic-looking beauty. He couldn’t recall ever having such an immediate visceral reaction to a woman, let alone from just a photograph.

Definitely a lot more interesting!