And I shouldn’t get so fluttery imagining I’m so special because he closed Wolf Ridge Body Shop during store hours to drive me home, but I do.
I get off the bike to give him room to get on and then throw my leg over the seat to sit behind him. He has the nerve to thump my thigh like I’m his horse before he kicks the motorcycle to life and lurches out of the parking lot.
I catch my breath and cling to him, my body a live wire of tension and excitement.
Like this drive is going to end in something far more than me getting off and walking in my house.
Like this drive means anything at all.
Like meeting Bo Fenton isn’t the only bright spot under this cloud of darkness that’s engulfed me ever since my dad went to jail.
Christ, I need to get my head on straight. I have to raise six gold bars worth of money, whatever that is, or my cousin and I will both be sold to sick perverts with bankrolls who make real life torture porn as a hobby. This is no time to fall for the cocky jerk who treats me like dogshit and drives a bike like a dream.
Chapter 4
Three weeks later
Bo
On the day everything goes to shit, you don’t wake up thinking, Today my whole life changes...
Sheriff Gleason’s tires screech as he whips into the school parking lot, gets out, and jogs to meet Coach at the side of the field.
“Fenton!” Coach laces every bit of wolf authority in his voice when he yells my name during practice. He’s standing with the sheriff on the side of the field, and a wave of foreboding flashes through me.
I pull off my helmet and stalk over.
“Get in the car,” the sheriff demands.
“Why?”
Coach is beside me, his big palm on my nape a warning. “It’s Winslow.”
“Fuck.”
You know how they say time stands still in moments of crisis?
Well it was like that, except the opposite. Time speeds up. Or just disappears—I don’t know. The world seems to whirl around me, but I can’t make sense of any of it.
Sheriff Gleason is here. Coach’s hold on me is crushing and should be an anchor, but it’s propelling me to the back of a cop car. I don’t want to get in. I know Winslow is in trouble, but why am I getting hauled in? But I don’t ask any of the million questions blazing through my mind. I climb in the back of the squad car. The door slams. Sheriff Gleason drives me to his office where my mom and Uncle Greg sit waiting, looking like someone died.
“What is it?” I demand. “What happened?”
“Your brother got caught by human police selling a stolen vehicle today, son,” Sheriff Gleason says. “He resisted arrest.”
“And they shot him!” my mother bellows, tears streaming down her face.
My gaze snaps to the sheriff for verification, and he nods. “They thought he was drawing a weapon. He was shot but still escaped. Which means he’s probably fine.”
“How do we know? What if he was shot in the head?” my mother cries.
“Then they would’ve found a body,” Sheriff Gleason reasons. And while his logic is sound, mentioning body to my mother was a mistake because she breaks down in sobs again.
Winslow’s a shifter, like everyone in this room, which means chances are extremely high he’s fine. He probably shifted to push the bullet out and to speed his healing and ran for the mountains. My mom knows that, but she still has PTSD from my dad’s death, and shit like this upsets her.
I walk over to her, and she stands up and throws herself at me.
I wrap her up in my arms and squeeze. She’s a foot shorter than I am and thin from hard work and the pain of living after losing her mate.
I kiss the top of her head. “It will be all right, Mom. Winslow’s fine.”
My mom pushes me away. “Do you know something?” She uses her most fierce mama wolf voice, and I take a step back.
I don’t want to lie.
I definitely don’t want to lie.
But like I said before, I won’t throw Winslow under a bus with pack elders, which means my mom and great uncle and the sheriff.
And the damn alpha.
I almost groan when Alpha Green strides in, eyes narrowed, his aging body radiating power. I stifle the involuntary shiver that runs through my body to be in his presence.
“Alpha Green,” I mutter, keeping my eyes down and my throat exposed.
“Everyone into my office,” Sheriff Gleason commands.
My mom shoots me a look of pure betrayal as we all shuffle in, and my stomach drops to my shoes.
Sheriff Gleason’s office feels too small for all of us—mainly because Alpha Green’s sheer force of will fills the place. Plus, he and the sheriff are big guys, and I’m almost full grown myself.