Fated Mate
Fated Mate
Fated Mountain Wolf Pack, Volume 1
Jessica Aspen
Published by Abracadabra Publishing, 2020.
Also by Jessica Aspen
Fated Mountain Wolf Pack
Fated Mate
Claimed Mate (Coming Soon)
Haunted Holidays
Ghosts of Christmas Past
Magic, New Mexico
Touch of Beauty
Watch for more at Jessica Aspen’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Also By Jessica Aspen
Dedication
Fated Mate (Fated Mountain Wolf Pack, #1)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Afterward
CLAIMED MATE
Copyright Information
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person living or dead, or any events and occurrences is purely coincidental. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. Please purchase only authorized editions.
Copyright June 2020 Jessica Aspen
Published as FATED MATE, JUNE 2020 by Abracadabra Publishing
(Orig title: Rogue Enforcer)
All rights reserved
Cover design: Emcat Designs
All rights reserved, June 2020
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Chapter One
As soon as the wheels of the ancient Honda stopped, Gwynn was outside, feet on the ground and the door slammed shut. She teetered between the filthy side of the car and the edge of the scenic overlook, inhaling fresh Colorado mountain air and smothering her brief spurt of guilt.
She shouldn’t be exhilarated at her freedom. Freedom from the smothering smell of old alcohol and cigarettes. Freedom from the stilted attempts at conversation. Freedom from trying to guess what her jerk of a dad was up to now, and why he’d turned up in her life out of the blue.
Because Herb was always up to something.
He got out of the driver’s side and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Gwynn slid along the side of the car until she could stand without fear of the sudden drop. “Is this it? Is this what you wanted me to see?” A freezing blast of wind rushed up the steep side of the mountain. She shivered, and moved back another step. This whole thing had been a colossal mistake.
When her dad had turned up at her apartment this morning and pleaded to spend the day with her, she should have known something was wrong. She never should have gotten in the car. But somehow she’d gotten sucked in by the excited voice of her inner child. Please, oh, please let me go! Daddy’s here. He loves me. He wants to spend time with me.
At twenty-two she should know better.
She pulled her hoodie on over her T-shirt and stuffed her hands deep into her pockets, wishing she’d worn jeans instead of her flimsy white capris. “Hey, it’s getting a little cold. Do you think we can find a place to get some coffee and warm up?”
He ignored her, his back to the wind as he attempted to light his cigarette in the stiff breeze.
“I see why you didn’t want to stop anywhere else, Dad. It’s great, really great.” Maybe she was the one who was wrong. At least he’d tried. He’d shown up. She could try too. She just wasn’t going to try too hard.
Cigarette finally lit, he gave the view of steep mountains covered with spring snow a cursory look. “Oh, yeah, great.” But he still didn’t look at her.
He’d hardly looked at her the entire two-hour trip up here. Instead, he’d been bent over the wheel, drumming his fingers as he drove and only responding to her attempts at conversation with the occasional grunt.
She guessed after all that driving they weren’t staying long because he’d left the Honda running, black exhaust spewing out into the clear air of the Rockies. It was beautiful up here, even with the wind and the cold and that bank of clouds that seemed to be moving at a speed she’d never seen clouds move. Gwynn frowned up at the sky. “Hey, is that a storm coming in?” She was a city girl and all she knew was that clouds never looked like that down on the plains of Denver.
But Herb ignored her, like he’d been ignoring her since he’d picked her up this morning. He walked along the edge of the dirt road, hand in his pocket jingling the change in a way that sent a frisson of apprehension along her nerves, his head moving from side-to-side like a pigeon’s as he checked up and down the narrow stretch of pavement balanced between the steep peak of the mountain above, and the drop off below.
Gwynn peered over the protective barrier at the hundred-yard plunge and her legs weakened. She stepped back.
“You must like the view.” The tension of the last few hours had stretched her voice thin. “Otherwise why drive up here?” She turned away from the scenery and snuck a peek at her dad.
His classic good looks, which had snared her mom and maybe hundreds of other women, had blurred under the weight of alcohol and drugs. His dark hair had receded to nowhere. And the lines in his face had deepened nearly to crevices. He was thin, but with that pot-belly that spoke of too much drink and not enough real nutrition. When had he changed? Had he always been like this? Did it take her getting older to finally see past his charm and notice he looked like the kind of guy a smart woman stayed away from? Even if he was her dad?
“I’m sorry, Gwynnny Baby, really sorry.” His shoulders hunched under his ancient blue windbreaker. His eyes, once a bright blue, now a faded gray, flicked away, looking anywhere but at her. She’d moved down the road, away from the beater and the exhaust, but now she was overwhelmed by isolation.
A quiver of something not right fluttered in her belly.
“Dad?”
She knew this feeling, this horrible hollow feeling was exactly how she used to feel, right before he said something that dropped the bottom out of her world.
Something like: I’m sorry, baby, I can’t make it to your birthday party. I’m sorry, baby, I know that necklace was yours, but another little girl needed it. Or, I’m sorry, baby, maybe we can get your dog back next year.
“What’s going on, Herb?” She couldn’t call him Dad, not when she knew he was about to jerk the rug right out from under her feet. “I should have known you didn’t want to take me for a drive in the mountains. I should have known not to trust you.” Her voice had that hated hard tone, so familiar from her mother. Blue eyes like her dad. Blond hair and too many curves from her mom. And apparently the bitch voice too.
 
; He didn’t answer. Just twitched some ash from his cigarette as he looked right past her. As if she wasn’t even there.
A metallic taste filled her mouth.
The artificial sound of electronic music broke the moment.
Automatically, Gwynn felt her pockets for her phone, but they were all empty. It must have fallen out on the drive up. The cheesy music didn’t stop. “Hey, aren’t you going to answer it?”
But Herb ignored her. Instead of looking through his own pockets, he crossed the road to a sign that warned of falling rocks. There in the dried grass and scrubby plants clinging to life on the side of the road, he dug around until he finally unearthed the ringing cell phone.
“Hello? Yeah, it’s me.” He glanced at Gwynn, then turned away, hunching his shoulders as he moved closer to the car. He huddled out of the wind by the side of the rusted-out Honda and shot her a sidelong glance. “No, I don’t have it. I brought something else. It’s worth more...way more than I owe.”
His change jingled an alarm in his pocket, and his cigarette ash lengthened as he argued with whoever was on the phone. He turned his back to her and began to pace up and down the road.
“You don’t understand!” Herb unzipped his jacket and ran a finger around his collar. Bits of his conversation carried on the freezing wind, and the last of Gwynn’s childlike excitement at her dad spending time with her twisted in her belly.
“No! She’s worth way more than that! She lives like a frigging nun, and at her age that’s rare.” Her dad yelled his desperation into the phone. “If she’s anything like her mother, they’ll pay you double. You’ll end up owing me!”
He looked directly at her, his thinning hair sticky with sweat, his expression hard and unfamiliar. She fought the rise of vomit as the realization struck home—her father was selling her to a stranger.
AARON HAD ARRIVED AT the location an hour ago. He’d shifted from wolf to human and dressed in the clothes he’d hauled in a pack designed for humans. He had a dog pack back at the cabin, but it was tough to put it on himself. This was easier. He just put it on before he shifted. It was a pain, but traveling as a wolf got him here much faster.
After he’d planted the cell phone by the falling rock sign up on the road, he’d hidden in the trees. And waited. It was windy and there was a storm coming in. And of course, the mark was late. Aaron cursed for the millionth time the jerk-wad who’d tricked his senile grandfather out of their land and left him no choice but to fetch and carry for Mike Leon.
Crap jobs. This is what it had come to. He’d lost his position as a pack enforcer for the Fated Mountain Pack and now, none of the guys would even speak to him. It burned.
It burned even more on days like today when he knew what he should be doing was arresting this creep, driving him out of pack territory. Or, since the asshole wasn’t a shifter, turning him in to the local cops to arrest. Instead, here he was, standing here while the temp dropped, waiting for some loser to pay off his gambling debts.
He was far enough back from the road and hidden well enough that the mark would never see him. Not him. Even being in this form he was quieter and more patient than any human, despite his current inner turmoil. He’d wait until the prey showed. And then he’d strike.
The rattling sound of an engine warned him. He got his earpiece ready.
He couldn’t believe the ancient Honda had even managed to climb up this far. The road up here was steep, with a treacherous, narrow band of pavement crumbling at the edge. This was the only cell tower reception for miles, a fluke of the terrain. Drive a half-mile down the road, and your phone wouldn’t work. It was one of the beauties of using this spot for drops. That, and the complete isolation.
Two of them got out of the car, the mark and some chick. The man reeked of nerves, like they all smelled when doing a drop—all the compulsive gamblers who deluded themselves into thinking they were better than this. That they could beat the system. That they were winners. No, the man was a loser. The curvy blonde though, she caught his attention.
She was a hot young thing, with long honey-blond hair that tangled in the wind, and huge tits she’d zipped up in her jacket. Just over jailbait, though. Early twenties was too young for him and way too young for the middle-aged, balding man. No accounting for choices, though. The poser must have picked her up when he was on a winning streak. Likely he was lying to her now about his financial situation. Stringing her along. Sucker.
She was a looker though, and he’d been a long time without a woman. He smothered the surprising twinge of regret that he wouldn’t get to know her. He was only here to pick up the money for Leon. He lifted his head and sniffed the wind. His sensitive nose picked up her scent of soft flowers. And layered under that, the musky scent of female. His cock twitched.
The phone he’d hidden on the side of the road rang, jerking him back from the teasing distraction of the woman’s scent. The mark jumped, the odor of his sweat output increasing ten-fold. Aaron turned on his earpiece and listened in to the mark’s conversation with the boss.
If he’d been a less controlled person, his jaw would have dropped. He’d seen some desperate people in his short time with Leon’s crew. Gamblers, alcoholics, drug addicts. Everyone needed extra money for some reason, and Mike Leon would loan it. For a price, always a price. Everyone paid in the end, but here was this weasel trying to substitute his own flesh and blood for his debt.
Human men treated their women worse than dirt. This would never happen in the pack. All of Leon’s business left Aaron feeling slightly dirty, but this? This left him feeling unclean.
He shifted his weight from foot-to-foot, listening to the conversation, wishing he could simply shift and run through the fresh air of the coming storm. But he had a job to do. Just a few minutes more and he’d be out of here. No money. No pick-up. Nothing for him to do here but watch and wait, and then he’d be gone.
Leon turned the man down, his normally cold and implacable voice rising over the man’s arguments. Leon was pissed, and that was never a good thing. “Screw you. I’m not interested in acquiring something I have to sell. You said you would bring the full amount today, and that’s what’s due.”
The man’s voice grew shrill and he began to move back and forth, hands waving wildly, as he tried to talk Leon into taking the girl and turn her into cash. Leon wouldn’t budge. Aaron knew where this was heading.
Fuck.
He didn’t do the heavy work. He was only out here today because this dick-wad said he’d have the money. This was supposed to be an easy pickup. Now he had to rough the guy up, and in front of the daughter. It was way past time to get out of the game.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with her? This won’t pay your debt.” Mike Leon was not a patient man when you jerked him around.
“Sell her.” The dick-wad was really sweating now. “With your connections, you should be able to sell her overseas with no trouble, maybe even in this country. I hear there’s a good market for women, and she’s a beauty.”
The blonde’s pink lipsticked mouth dropped open into a wide, full O. Her eyes widened into dinner plates and full comprehension filled her face. It was obvious she wasn’t in on it. The dad was a complete asshole.
Aaron’s muscles tightened. It would be a pleasure to teach this man something. Yeah, he was sure the woman would be worth enough to pay off the man’s debt. But to sell his own daughter?
Leon’s voice crackled over the earpiece, his meaning clear. “Pay up in cash. That’s the only currency I accept. You knew it when you made the deal.”
The man’s shoulders drew in, and he seemed to shrink at the instructions.
Aaron snorted. What had he expected when he borrowed money from a piranha?
“But I don’t have it. I don’t have any way of getting it. Gwynn should make us even.”
Aaron’s hackles rose and a low rumbling growl erupted from his throat. He stifled it quickly, reminding himself this wasn’t his fight, no matter how seeing a female
in trouble brought out his protective instincts. This girl wasn’t his. Wasn’t pack. Wasn’t a shifter.
Besides, he had his own problems.
This was his last job. He was sick of this shit. If he didn’t have the pack’s land back by now, it wasn’t happening. He had the money, but Mike Leon wasn’t the kind to loosen his fist when he had his grip on your balls. No more. He’d put it off, hoped he could make it work, but he was done. He wouldn’t go back to the pack without the deed. And without the sanction of the pack, he’d be a lone wolf. Rogue.
It left him hollow.
The busty blonde let out a small, choked sound and his attention ricocheted back to the family drama.
She looked at her father with round, hurt eyes. “Daddy?” Something about a grown woman using such a little-girl word tugged at Aaron.
“Sorry, baby, but these people will kill me if I don’t pay up.” Her father’s sad expression and self-pity ground on Aaron’s last nerve.
“Fine. We’ll hold her,” Leon’s voice crackled over the earpiece. “But if you don’t pay up by next week, she’s dead, and so are you. Get in your car and drive while you still can.”
Aaron took an involuntary step back. What the hell was the boss doing?
The mark dropped the phone like a hot rock, spread his hands out wide, and backed away from his daughter. “Sorry, baby.”
She stood stunned as the loser turned and ran for the car, jumped inside, and locked the doors. “Wait! Where are you going?” The blonde shook herself out of her stupor and started for the car, but it was already rolling down the hill. She reached the passenger side door, scratching at the handle. She got a grip on it, walking next to the car as it rolled down the hill, but the handle didn’t budge.
“Dad, what are you doing? Stop the car!” Her voice was high and thin, stretched tight by fear.
The window dropped down a scant inch. “Don’t worry, baby. They’ll come get you and take good care of you! Daddy loves you, baby!” He waved like a parent dropping his kid off at school for the first time, and put the pedal to the metal, whipping the old Honda around in a tight, ear-splitting u-turn.