Red Wolf

RED WOLF

  The Red Wolf Chronicles

  Volume 1

  By

  REBEKAH SHELTON

  ****

  Published By:

  Revised July 2016

  Other Books by Rebekah Shelton

  The Legend of the Snow Wolves Series:

  Emerald Eyes (FREE)

  Emerald Knoll

  Emerald Cove

  Emerald Garden

  Emerald Aura

  Emerald Haven

  Emerald City - The Return

  Emerald Nation - Divided

  Emerald Reign (coming soon)

  Emerald Anarchy (planned)

  Book 11 (planned)

  Book 12 (planned)

  The Red Wolf Chronicles:

  Red Wolf (FREE)

  Red Palace

  Red Widow

  The Battle for Zarcon Saga:

  Raising Avon (FREE)

  Shielding Avon

  Battling Avon

  Operation De-ICE

  Cover Design: SelfPubBookCovers.com/joeydurocher

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please visit your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales are purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Although portions of this book are derived from real events, the events surrounding historical characters are entirely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. They are not to be perceived as factual.

  No part of this publication may be copied, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy or otherwise without the express written permission of the author or author's agent.

  This book contains violence and mild sexual situations

  Recommended for ages 14 and older.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 - Boone

  Chapter 2 - Delilah

  Chapter 3 - Walters

  Chapter 4 - Daddy

  Chapter 5 – First Assignment

  Chapter 6 – Let’s Dance

  Chapter 7 – Meet the Militia

  Chapter 8 – Trapped

  Chapter 9 – Decisions

  Chapter 10 – Street Talk

  Chapter 11 - Katia

  Chapter 12 – Prince Charming

  Chapter 13 – Logan

  Chapter 14 – Red Palace

  How to Contact the Author

  Chapter 1 - Boone

  Boone hated the rain. He hated the way he smelled when wet; the smell of wet dog, the smell of wolf. Of course, no one else could smell the scent but Boone could. More than the rain Boone hated running after his bounty. Why did they always have to run? Of course, they did not know Boone could easily outrun any human. But it was still an inconvenience. Boone just wanted to detain the latest of his prey, collect the reward and be home before the full moon.

  Jesse Hopper was just another criminal in a long string of miscreants who thought he could outrun the law. But he did not know he was being hunted by a wolf. Hunted by a wolf who could smell him before he could see him. Hunted by a wolf who could see in the dark. Hunted by a wolf who could run seven times faster than a human. Jesse looked back at Boone and could see Boone narrowing the distance quickly and without any effort. Hopper was amazed such a large man could run so fast and not break a sweat. Hopper was about out of breath and was fighting the urge to double over and vomit. But the six foot three monster of a man chasing him was breathing as if it was a leisurely Sunday afternoon stroll. Hopper saw the smirk on Boone’s face just seconds before Boone decided he had played this game of cat and mouse long enough.

  Boone knew he could not reveal his non-human abilities but enough was enough, and the rain was turning colder by the minute. He could feel the electricity building in the air getting ready to fill the sky with lightning. It made the hackles on the back of his neck stand up on end. And Boone hated lightning more than he hated rain.

  Boone lunged forward almost effortlessly and grabbed Hopper by the back of his collar, pushing him to the ground. Hopper was not a small man by human standards. He carried two hundred pounds on his stocky five foot eleven frame. Placing his knee firmly on Hopper’s back and pushing his thirty-something face into the gravel Boone reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a pair of standard issue flex cuffs and bound Hopper’s arms securely behind his back.

  “Why do you murderers and rapists always run? When are you going to learn?” Boone snarled, leaning into Hopper with his knee in Hopper’s back and growling into his ear.

  “One of these days I am going to kill your motherfuckin' ass!” Hopper sneered into the damp ground and laughed. He was just young enough to think of himself as being immortal and indestructible. Hopper thought he was the master of the universe. And he was, in his own small and depraved mind.

  “Stand in line, asshole. But I have a big check and a cold brew with my name written on it. So let's get you to the nearest jail for three hots and a cot. Sounds like a win-win for both of us,” Boone snarled again as he stood and prepared himself to drag Hopper off the wet ground. “Up, asshole,” Boone commanded as he picked up Hopper with one hand on his collar and one on the plastic flex cuffs. With his superhuman strength, it was like picking a small dog off the ground.

  Hopper, of course, cursed in pain. “Now you know how that poor woman felt,” Boone seethed in anger.

  “She was sweet,” Hopper sneered lustfully, remembering how he had raped and tortured his victim over a four-day period before he killed her.

  “Pervert,” Boone growled while causing Hopper to trip. Hopper landed back on the gravel with more cuts and blood covering his face and lips.

  “Police brutality!” Hopper yelled out for anyone to hear. Naturally the small group of onlookers merely ignored him.

  “Not the police,” Boone reminded his captured felon with a chuckle. “I am just your average run-of-the-mill bounty hunter.”

  Boone snagged Hopper off the ground for the second time and frog-marched him back towards his black SUV. “I should have you back in state custody just in time for happy hour,” Boone laughed, pushing Hopper forward.

  With Boone’s height compared to Hopper’s, Hopper was practically running again. “Slow down, asshole,” Hopper seethed, afraid he was going to do another face plant onto the gravel road.

  “Like you took it easy on Dana Holland?” Boone asked rhetorically. “You are one sick bastard. She was barely twenty-four, and now her three-year-old daughter has to grow up without her mother. You are damn lucky I am not dragging you to the nearest tree and stringing you up myself. But you are not worth the effort of losing the bounty on your sick worthless head.”

  Boone pushed Hopper into the back seat of his black SUV. After ensuring the seat belt was secure, with no genuine concern for any subsequent injury to his catch, Boone jumped into the driver’s seat and headed back to the interstate and to the nearest Montana State Police lockup.

  Forty-five minutes later Jesse Hopper was in state custody and Boone was ready for a cold beer. “Where is the closest bar?” Boone asked the two state policemen at the counter after collecting the hefty bounty.

  “There is a hole in the wall about three miles down the road,” one of the officers replied.

  “The name?” Boone asked impatiently.

  “Hole in the Wall
,” the other officer laughed.

  “Figures,” Boone quipped at the two uniformed officers. He was not amused by the small town mentality. His patience was already worn thin.

  “Just watch out for Carla,” the first officer laughed, glancing at his partner.

  “Heck Joe, I think our boy here can take her.”

  “Just watch out for the claws. She is a feisty one,” Joe said sarcastically as a warning.

  Boone walked away from the two and left the building. He climbed back into his well-used SUV and drove away, headed to the nearest bar for a cold brew or three. He stopped only to check into a cheap motel, take a shower and quickly change into clean, dry clothes. Dressed in a faded pair of blue jeans, scuffed tan leather cowboy boots, and a long-sleeved chambray shirt, Boone was ready to spend a quiet evening in a dark and hopefully mostly deserted bar.

  Boone was a loner, a rogue wolf. His creature comforts were minimal as he spent most of his time on the road recapturing convicts from Colorado to Idaho. Boone knew the back roads and the wilderness of the northern middle American states better than the law enforcement agencies which resided in and patrolled them. Plus he had skills, mad crazy wolf skills. He brought in four times the number of escapees and fugitives than any other bounty hunter. He was a legend. Well, one of two. Only one other bounty hunter truly gave him any competition.

  Boone spotted the large red neon sign of the Hole in the Wall. The dimly lit, partially paved parking lot was nearly empty. Boone smiled as he parked near the road on the gravel. He just wanted a few ice cold beers. Boone wasn’t looking for companionship or a fight. He just wanted some greasy bar food and a few tall, cold ones. He took a long look at the building. It was old and wooden with cracked and peeling gray paint. The gray shingled roof was nearly blackened by mold. The red neon sign across the top of the building displayed the name of the local watering hole. One of the ballasts was defective, showing the name as Ho in the Wall. Boone humorously thought about the warning the two officers had given him about Carla but quickly dismissed it. For all intents and purposes, this place was a dive, and it was exactly what Boone was looking for.

  Boone entered the unpretentious building and quickly looked around. He walked to a booth in the corner where he could still see the front door. Boone liked to sit away from everyone but still wanted to see who was coming and going. It was an occupational hazard he had learned as a bounty hunter. It was a habit he had picked up before his current career choice. Being a wolf had its drawbacks. Being alert was a skill well needed in both his personal and professional life.

  Before Boone had a chance to thoroughly survey the groggery, the only waitress on duty was at his table. “What’ll it be?” the thirty-something woman standing before him asked.

  Of course, Boone had smelled Carla as he walked in. The smell of grease, alcohol, and cheap perfume was enough to make him gag. As he looked up, Boone could see she had been working long hours for too many years as a barmaid and waitress. Her face showed the wear and tear of a few too many one night stands and too few hours of sleep. Boone sniggered inwardly at Carla’s long fake nails painted in harlot-red polish.

  Boone knew the type. He spent too many hours in dreary, dark bars himself. Boone refrained from chuckling at the irony and asked for a pitcher of beer. He quickly ordered two large burgers with the works, extra onions and two orders of fries. He had not eaten since breakfast. His focus had been on capturing Jesse Hopper and being home the next day.

  Minutes later, a cold pitcher of beer was placed on the table in front of him, and before his dinner had arrived, Boone was on his second pitcher. He was finally starting to relax for the first time all day. Boone sighed with relief. He knew he would recapture Hopper. He was pleased he had a check in his pocket which would last him for another month before having to go on the road again. Of course, as soon as the full moon was over, he would head out on his next assignment. Boone lived for the money and the chase. It was all he had. It was his life.

  Boone chuckled to himself about the money. His home was small and modestly but comfortably furnished. It was a log home which sat on several acres at the end of a long dirt road. The house consisted of a large kitchen, a living room, and a good size bedroom. The back of the house overlooked an expansive valley with mountains all around. Boone spent very little of his income. Most went into the bank for a rainy day. But Boone hated the rain. And he had no idea what he was going to do with the money he had already accumulated. As if on cue, dinner arrived, and Boone stopped thinking about his future. As always, he lived full moon to full moon and paycheck to paycheck. But it worked for him.

  Carla looked intensely at Boone before asking if he needed anything else. She was mesmerized by his bright green eyes and sandy blonde hair which showed a hint of red hues when touched by the sun. Even under the dim fluorescent lighting, Boone was handsome. Then she looked again at the way his shirt hugged his muscular arms and chest. She had watched him cross the bar to the booth and had covertly grinned watching him saunter across the floor in jeans which proudly displayed more of his assets. But looking at his face, he looked tired. And his eyes looked lonely.

  Carla knew there was more. She knew Boone was hiding something. She was trying to decide if the gorgeous man in front of her would be another one of her countless conquests. Of course, Boone could sense her sexual attraction, her heightened pheromones. He glanced up at her sideways and glared his disapproval. She merely shrugged and walked away. Had she been a wolf, she would have heard him softly growl his rejection.

  At times, Boone hated the way he looked. Women found him attractive, but he was not ready for a relationship. Amative was not a word he would use to describe himself. Being a wolf was hard enough without bringing a woman into the equation. He wasn’t ready to trust anyone with his secret. He had once belonged to a pack many years before, but he was not happy having to bow to an Alpha. They were evil and controlling. Boone only wanted to be left alone and to have free will. He knew of other rogue wolves but stayed clear of them as much as possible. Boone did not want trouble. He had a place to live, a vehicle, and a job. It was enough for now. He was still young. He had plenty of time to find a mate and settle down. He was in no rush.

  Boone had just finished his dinner and was about to order his third pitcher of cheap watered down beer when he heard the only thing he despised more than rain and lightening; motorcycles. Motorcycles meant only one thing. They meant trouble. Boone was not the type who went looking for trouble unless it was attached to the business end of a bounty check. But due to his size, men always seemed to want to start a fight with him. Boone's genetics had predisposed his stature and muscular frame.

  Of course, Boone could take care of himself. He could easily dispense with several men simultaneously, but he just wanted a quiet, relaxing evening before retiring for the night. Tomorrow he would drive several hundred miles to his next destination, home.

  Boone listened intently to discern how many motorcycles were pulling into the parking lot. He hoped there would only be a few. It was a Monday night which should have given him the solitude he had so desired.

  Hearing a fifth distinct engine sound, Boone had to make a decision and quickly. Stay and hope for the best or find a backdoor to stealthily escape through. After chasing Hopper across three states over a week’s time, he had earned the third pitcher of beer. And he was damned if a quintet of leather clad gladiator wannabes were going to stop him from his well-deserved indulgence. Boone motioned for another pitcher and eased into the corner of a dark booth, sliding down just enough to reduce his towering stature.

  Just as expected, five burly bearded and bandana wearing bikers swaggered in. Boone peered out the window to look at the one-eyed human suicide machines the group had ridden up on. Boone did not really dislike motorcycles. He just did not like leather wearing, rowdy tattooed rabble-rousers who rode them. They reminded Boone of a
group he had lived with nearly a decade ago. He did not like them much either. But that was a nightmare to remember some other time. Boone pulled his sloshy and slightly buzzed brain cells back to the present and to the Neanderthals who were quick to make their presence known to everyone.

  Boone glanced at Carla whose smile had all but disappeared from her face. She was not at all delighted to see the five who had just darkened the doorway. It was quite apparent they had been there before. And it had not been a quiet or pleasant experience. Carla glanced back at Boone, squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. It only took moments for Boone to smell her fear and to sense her quickened heartbeat.

  Boone was not looking to score points with Carla by coming to her rescue, but he could not and would not allow her, or any woman to be abused, to be manhandled. He had seen it happen too many times with the wolf packs in Colorado and Wyoming. He had seen too many girls just looking for a night of drinking and dancing turn into victims of assault and rape by men like him; by wolves. Boone had seen far too much violence and unneeded death at the hands of men too eager for instant gratification. Boone closed his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the memories of the carnage he had seen. Boone shook his head with a quick shudder and took another deep breath to steady himself. As he opened his eyes, he knew trouble was only a nanosecond away.

  Boone reached down into his boot and slowly pulled a ten-inch long black handled hunting knife with a partially serrated black titanium nickel blade out of its sheath. He laid the knife on the vinyl upholstered bench near his thigh out of sight and poured himself another glass of beer.

  Peering over the top of his beer, Boone could see Carla adjusting her clothing. She was closing a button on her white button down blouse to minimize her cleavage and pulling down her tight black knit skirt to show less of her pale shapely legs. She was trying to hide from the onslaught of comments and abuse she was about to endure.

  Boone could not help but feel sorry for Carla. Leaving the bar at the end of her shift willingly for a one night stand was one thing, but having to endure unwanted abuse from a bunch of miscreants was another. It reminded him of a young female he had met years ago who spent most of her time as far away from the pack as possible. She would hide from the comments and the abuse. She was a beautiful and innocent girl who just wanted to find a way to escape the horrors of her everyday life and some day the pack. She hated who she was or rather what she was going to become. For a moment, Boone wondered what happened to the girl. She was only about ten or eleven when he had met her, but he knew even then she would grow into a beautiful woman and a wolf which would be coveted by many males wolves. Her beauty would be an affliction and would cause her hardship and suffering.

  Boone was pulled back into reality by the noise already emanating from the bar. Why couldn’t they just come in, have a cold beer and leave everyone alone, Boone thought. After another sigh, he poured himself another beer and tried to remain inconspicuous.

  Sitting at the end of the bar were two attractive women in their early thirties trying to unwind after a long day at the office. It was evident they just wanted to relax before going home and enjoy their fruity drinks adorned with slices of pineapple and small paper umbrellas. Boone was a bit amused a dive such as this would have a blender and paper umbrellas. But these days, not much surprised him. Apparently the local dive catered to a wide variety of clientele.

  The ladies were starting to look uncomfortable. Boone could see them trying to finish their drinks quickly so they could leave before trouble ensued. Boone could smell their fear as their adrenaline levels rose. Both ladies looked around watching for their opportunity to flee. Neither of the ladies wanted to stay any longer. Their “happy hour” was quickly coming to an end.

  Both looked to Boone as if begging for help. Boone tried his best to divert his eyes, to remain anonymous and hidden. Suddenly he felt trapped. His freedom abated. He knew if he ignored their peril he would hate himself later. He looked at the ladies and nodded. Then he looked back towards the bikers. As soon as he saw them busy accosting Carla, Boone motioned for the women to leave.

  Both ladies grabbed their purses and raced hand-in-hand toward the door. But they were not quick enough. One the bikers called out, “Where y’all going? The party is just gettin’ started.”

  Both ladies froze as their hearts stopped beating. Boone could almost taste their fear on his tongue as the biker closed the distance between him and the women. Boone knew he did not have a choice. Boone knew he would have to intervene. He slid his knife back into his boot and then slid out of the booth and stood, placing himself between the biker and the ladies. There were three empty beer pitchers sitting on the table, so he pretended to stumble, drunkenly, giving the women a chance to run out of the bar and to safety.

  “Hey, asshole!” the biker sneered trying to push Boone out of the way. “You are letting those yummy cupcakes get away.”

  I got your cupcake, Boone thought to himself, holding onto the man as if trying to keep himself from falling to the ground. But actually he was keeping the man at bay so the ladies could leave. When Boone heard two cars in the parking lot start-up, he released his grip on the biker.

  “Sorry dude,” Boone slurred. “Guess I should have stopped at two. Guess I better go see a man about a horse.”

  The biker pushed Boone further away. Boone again pretended to stumble. “Gotta take a piss,” Boone reiterated and stumbled towards the men’s room in the rear of the bar.

  The hallway to the men’s room was dimly lit, and Boone knew he would soon be followed by the five drunken bikers. Boone made the decision to slip out the back door of the bar instead of entering the restroom. Boone knew the five cavemen would follow him outside. He knew they would try to beat him to a bloody pulp. But Boone did not care. He would have a surprise waiting for them when they exited. Boone would be ready.

  Boone stood about fifteen feet away from the door and waited in the light of the waxing three-quarters moon. There was no artificial lighting behind the bar. It was dark, very dark. Boone would miche until they came after him. Then he would attack. It took only seconds for the five burly obnoxious bikers to find him. It took only a second for Boone to change into a giant tan wolf with glowing green eyes.

  “Holy shit on a shingle!” one of the men screamed, trying to back away from the giant wolf standing just feet in front of him. But instead, he bumped into the front of one of his buddies. Boone growled loudly and snarled showing his abnormally long canines. Then Boone reared back to pounce. As he did, all five of the bikers took off running to the front of the building, screaming about a giant wolf about to kill and eat them. Boone swore he detected the smell of fresh urine filling the cool night air. Seconds later Boone heard the sound of five motorcycles leaving the parking lot. Boone turned human and laughed as if he had just performed the best party trick ever. It was a tactic he rarely used, but being outnumbered five to one, he thought it would be fun.

  Boone snuck back into the bar through the rear exit and after a quick stop in the men’s room returned to his booth. Finishing the last of his beer, he rendered payment for the food and beer, leaving Carla a big tip. Smiling, he walked away. “Thanks for a fun evening,” Boone smirked at Carla in appreciation.

  Turning wolf, even for a few minutes, had a sobering effect on Boone. He was happy he would be clear headed for the drive home the next morning. A few minutes later Boone was crossing the threshold of his rented room. The accommodations were not luxurious, but it was clean, and it had a bed. And Boone preferred sleeping in a bed than to sleeping on the floor or the ground as a wolf. It only took Boone a few minutes to strip to his black boxer briefs. Crawling into bed, he fell asleep seconds later. Tomorrow he would be home. Then he would hunt on the full moon, take a couple of days off and be ready to collect his next paycheck.