Sedona Scandal (Sedona Pack Book 3)
Lisa Kessler
Sedona Scandal
BOOK #3 OF THE SEDONA PACK SERIES
BY LISA KESSLER
Sedona Scandal – Copyright © 2020 by Lisa Kessler
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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Edited by Double Vision Editorial, Danielle Poiesz
Cover design by Fiona Jayde Media
Interior Design by – BB eBooks
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition July 2020
Other Novels by Lisa Kessler
The Muse Chronicles
LURE OF OBSESSION
LEGEND OF LOVE
BREATH OF PASSION
LIGHT OF THE SPIRIT
DEVOTED TO DESTINY
DANCE OF THE HEART
SONG OF THE SOUL
The Night Series
NIGHT WALKER
NIGHT DEMON
NIGHT NOVELLAS
NIGHT CHILD
The Moon Series
MOONLIGHT
HUNTER’S MOON
BLOOD MOON
HARVEST MOON
ICE MOON
BLUE MOON
WOLF MOON
NEW MOON
The Sedona Pack
THE LONE WOLF’S WISH
SEDONA SIN
SEDONA SEDUCTION
SEDONA SCANDAL
SEDONA SURRENDER
The Sentinels of Savannah
MAGNOLIA MYSTIC
PIRATE’S PASSION
PIRATE’S PLEASURE
PIRATE’S PERSUASION
Summerland Stories
ACROSS THE VEIL
FORBIDDEN HEARTS
Standalone Works
BEG ME TO SLAY
FORGOTTEN TREASURES
Dedication
This one is for my Dad.
I still don’t want to fly in your Navion.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Other Novels by Lisa Kessler
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Acknowledgments
Other Novels by Lisa Kessler
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
Wendy
I hated the full moon. It didn’t change what was about to happen, though. I glanced up at the Technicolor sky and pushed my legs to move faster. Sweat stung my eyes as I made my way to the top of Lookout Mountain. The view of Phoenix was spectacular, and in the heat of summer it would be deserted.
I had to think about things like that now that I was a werewolf.
Some days I wished the wolf had just killed me.
By the time I crested the mountain, my first canteen was nearly empty. Good thing I had brought a backup. After the shift, I would be famished and parched. I took off my backpack and dropped it onto the rocky ground at my feet. Lookout Mountain was composed of ancient volcanos, making the rocky terrain tricky for hikers. In the dark, the mountain peak became even more treacherous, killing more than a few people over the years.
The danger kept it deserted at night and made it the perfect place for me to shift without being seen. But with any luck, I wouldn’t have to worry about it for much longer. Deidra Harlow promised me a cure was on the horizon.
Growing doubts gnawed at my insides. She’d been making me that same promise for months. Just over three years had passed since the night two massive wolves cornered me and my brother. One attacked us, while the other stayed back. Maybe a lookout. I’d probably never know for sure.
One bite from a rabid wolf had ruined my life, and hundreds of blood samples and tests later, I was still spending full moon nights alone on this mountain.
So damned alone.
How much longer could I keep living like this?
A gust of hot wind pulled at my ponytail. My long blond hair obstructed my view of the sunset as I unzipped my pack. My monthly tradition had evolved over months of trial and error. After being bitten, one of the werewolves shifted back. I remembered looking way up, but somehow, his face…I couldn’t remember. Maybe the shock had stolen that memory, but his instructions were burned into my consciousness. Stay away from humans during the full moon, and never come back to the Sedona.
I discovered the rest on my own.
I took my cell phone out and opened my e-mail.
Let’s talk.
Chandler Williams
CBS Phoenix
Chandler Williams was the co-anchor of the evening news. I’d been watching him for weeks as I weighed my options. If I decided to give him my story, to tell the world werewolves were real, my hope was that the government would take notice and help me find a cure. Chandler was a well-respected journalist. People would listen if he reported my situation.
I stared at the email a second longer. This was my last chance to back away and keep hiding. Was I ready to talk? I lifted my gaze to the painted desert below, surprised to find tears rising in my eyes. If I took this step, there would be no turning back. Once I went to the press, my life would never be the same. I could kiss the Cain Foundation goodbye and the final link to my parents and my brother would be destroyed. Not to mention the world would know werewolves were real, that I was a werewolf.
Did I care? If Deidra and all her researchers at Evolution Defense couldn’t unravel the mystery of the new mutation in my DNA, maybe the scientists at the Pentagon could. This might be my only chance at a cure. And if I went to the press first, the government wouldn’t be able to eliminate me and erase the problem. Too many people would know for them to sweep me under the rug.
But on the other hand, what good would a cure be if my life was ruined?
I swiped a tear from my cheek, tipping my attention back to my phone. My life had been ruined the second a giant wolf bit my brother and me. The wolf took Brock and left me behind. After a year of private investigators coming up empty, I gave up searching for him and began mourning him instead. Grief was something I understood. Intimately.
This new existence, living in the shadows, this wasn’t a life. I had nothing more to lose.
Before I could change my mind, my thumbs flew across the digital keyboard.
Tomorrow night after the evening news. Symphony Hall. A ticket will be waiting under your name at will call.
Wendy
Since Brock’s disappearance, I had taken the reins at the Cain Foundation. My brother and I had started the charity with the trust fund our parents had left behind after an explosion at an oil rig took their lives. I’d been studying music in college at the time. The substantial inheritanc
e did little to ease the pain of losing my folks, but building a foundation to support the arts gave me a new focus and a way to channel my grief. Brock planned investments to keep the foundation financially sound, and I fielded the grant requests. We’d been a good team.
Arizona Opera was my pet project. My mother had raised me on the classics, and my happiest memories were of dressing up to go to the opera with her. Tomorrow was opening night of Romeo and Juliet. Charles Gounod’s twist on Shakespeare’s tragedy never failed to touch my soul.
I stuffed my phone back into my pack, resisting the urge to email Chandler Williams back and cancel. This was going to work as long as I could make Chandler believe me. When he had interviewed Brad Newport, a candidate for the Senate recently, and although Newport had tried to spin the interview toward the military, Chandler had been relentless in his questioning, refusing to be drawn off topic. I admired his tenacity and unwillingness to be bullied. That’s exactly the kind of journalist I needed to help me.
After the last treatment from Evolution Defense had failed, I realized I needed a new tactic, something to get the government’s attention but also protect me from a swift elimination. Going to the press with my story would keep me in the spotlight. People would notice if I suddenly disappeared.
Hopefully, Chandler would be the key.
First, I would need to convince him I was telling the truth. I’d never met him in person, but something about him tugged at me, demanding my attention. Sure he was handsome, but it wasn’t his looks. In fact, from what I’d seen, his blond hair and bright-blue eyes made people underestimate him, assume he was nothing more than a thirtysomething, empty-headed television personality reading a teleprompter. He had leveraged those assumptions to his advantage, catching his guests off guard and digging deep into his interviews and investigative stories.
Maybe it was the fire inside him, the drive and hunger for a story, that called to me, reminding me of the woman I used to be. I barely remembered that kind of passion. I had given up on my dreams when my parents died. It wasn’t a conscious decision on my part, more of a slow drowning.
First, I dropped out of college and engrossed myself in building the philanthropic foundation with Brock. My life filled up with meetings with nonprofits and fundraising galas. The busier my calendar, the better. Then I lost Brock and my own humanity in a one-two sucker punch.
I just wanted another chance at life, at finding new dreams.
The sun began to sink below the horizon, hiding behind the jagged mountains. I unlaced my hiking boots and set them aside. For now, Chandler didn’t know my last name, and he damned sure had no idea I was a werewolf. I had enticed him into meeting with me with the promise of information about Brad Newport’s campaign donors. It wasn’t a lie. Evolution Defense had a substantial financial stake in the ex-military officer’s campaign. And once I was sure I could trust Chandler, I would let him in on the biggest story of the century.
Shifters lived among us.
He would be sitting beside one tomorrow night at the opera.
I stripped off my clothes, stuffing them into my pack before stowing it behind an outcropping of rocks. Pain shot down my spine like an electrical current, dropping me to my hands and knees on the rocky ground. The change was coming. I panted through the agony as my joints popped, breaking and mutating in a painful process that changed me from a twenty-eight-year-old woman into a giant white wolf.
This monthly torture hadn’t gotten any easier since I’d been bitten. The shift from woman to wolf didn’t even remotely resemble the smooth transition they showed in movies, and I knew that for a fact. Over the past three years of full moons, I’d done some of my own experiments with a GoPro clipped to my pack, and I had discovered that the transformation itself took about ten minutes. It felt like ten hours. The video footage was also how I found out my wolf was snow white, and massive, with my same silver eyes. For months, I had resisted thinking of her as mine. She was a monster, not a part of me.
I had spent hours watching the video over and over. Seeing the physical carnage of my body reshaping, hair jutting out from my smooth skin, was like something straight out of a horror movie. Then the monster would stand and shake off the last traces of humanity. There had been an instant, though, a moment I would never forget.
The wolf had come forward, staring directly into the camera, into my soul, and then she tipped her head back and howled. The first time I heard it, I wept. Her cry had seemed as if it had been ripped from the depths of my spirit, full of pure loneliness and the raw ache for…a pack?
That howl haunted me. It was mine. Ours.
I’d lost my family, and this wolf had never had one.
As the animal panted, enduring the painful last moments of the shift, my human consciousness took a back seat. My first couple of full moons had been terrifying and mentally exhausting as I fought for control of the animal. The wolf possessed instincts I still didn’t fully understand, and if a human ever tried to approach us or threaten us, I didn’t think I stood a chance in hell at keeping the wolf from attacking.
The faceless man who had given me quick instructions the night I was bitten had insisted that during a full moon, I needed to stay miles away from any humans. It had been good advice. Because once the wolf came forward, I was only a passenger.
However, he failed to mention that for the rest of the month, the creature within would still be present, like a shadow in my mind. My sense of smell and hearing were so heightened that I no longer made trips to the mall. The onslaught of scents from hairspray, sweat, perfume, candy, and fast food were dizzying. It was more stimulation than I could handle.
It wasn’t all bad, though. As the months passed by, I learned emotions carried scents, too, giving me deeper insight into my interactions with others. My enhanced hearing also allowed me to hear someone’s pulse speed up when they lied.
That’s what had prompted me to entertain the idea of talking to the press in the first place. A couple of weeks ago, Deidra had lied to me. I still didn’t know what she was covering up, but I was determined to find out.
The wolf scrambled to her feet and violently shook off the gravelly dirt. She sniffed the air, our senses reaching out, taking inventory of the terrain. Walking to the edge of the mountaintop, she lifted her head and cried out to the full moon, a lonesome call that reverberated across the valley. I allowed my human consciousness to settle into the background.
It would be over soon.
CHAPTER 2
Chandler
A howl echoed through the night, catching my attention as I reached my car. I glanced up at the mountains. There was a wolf sanctuary in Scottsdale, but that was too far away for me to hear a wolf howling, even with my heightened senses. What the hell was a wolf doing in Phoenix?
I glanced up at the full moon. My pack would be shifting into their wolves tonight in Sedona. I was the newest member of the Sedona Pack, although I wasn’t a werewolf—I was a jaguar shifter. Asher, the Alpha, had welcomed me into the pack with open arms, but some of the pack elders hadn’t been very eager to add jaguar shifters to their wolf pack. I had sold Asher on the idea that I could help protect the pack from being discovered, and it had seemed to be enough for the elders to allow my membership. As a news anchor, I could keep the pack informed if any stories were brewing about large animals on the loose and then maybe even frame the story in a way to protect us all.
In return, the wolf pack watched my back, and I wasn’t so fucking alone in the world.
Ever since Damian Severino, heir to the now defunct Nero Organization, had bitten me, I’d been pushing myself to keep chasing my ambition. I refused to let one bad night define me. But no matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t change my fate during a new moon.
Once a month during the moonless night, opposite of my werewolf packmates, I shifted into a hulking black jungle cat. Tough to keep that a secret in a busy city. Joining the pack not only gave me a circle of friends who knew the truth—and understood wha
t I was going through to some extent—but they also offered me a safe haven to shift on their ranch in Sedona. I no longer needed to worry about running into humans, or worse, the cat hurting someone.
Sirens blared in the distance. I waited. Maybe I imagined it? It was possible. After seeing the email from my anonymous tip about a senate candidate’s financial backers, I’d been preoccupied and thinking about my pack. It could’ve been wolves on my mind.
I popped the locks on my Nissan 370Z and reached for the door, trying to figure out how why my tipster wanted to meet at symphony hall when another howl boomed through the night. My body tensed. Werewolves ran in packs; a lone wolf was rare and often dangerous.
I stared at the dark mountains in the distance. After being bitten, my night vision had improved to an inhuman level, and with this much light from the full moon, I might be able to find the wolf from my plane. It was worth a shot. I could be at my hangar at the Mesa Gateway airport in ten minutes.
My 1950 Navion plane was my oasis when life pulled me in two directions at once. My job made my face a trusted news source across living rooms in Phoenix, but because of my bite, my private life needed to be protected from public view. It was a tricky tightrope I attempted to walk in a world of cell phones and social media. No doubt it would have been easier if I had changed professions after Damian bit me and changed my life forever, but easy had never been in the cards for me.
“Hey, Chandler.”
I opened my car door and turned around to find Jamie Alexander, the assistant producer of my newscast, jogging toward my car. “Wait up!”
“Something wrong?” I glanced toward the mountains and back to her.
She was a petite five-foot, four-inch tempest of energy. We were the highest-rated evening newscast in Phoenix, and Jamie had a big hand in that. We also went on one date when I first joined the news team. She had made it clear she’d wanted another, but I hadn’t been on the same page. There had been—and still were—too many secrets I could never share.
