CHAPTER 1

 

BROOKE

 

I had the worst instincts. 

I could swear to God, red flags could be waving in front of my eyes, but I always missed them until it was too late.

Which was how I ended up at the Denver Four Seasons in a business meeting that felt sketchier by the minute.

It was with an important client for our accounting firm. My boss had called me from the hospital, sounding nearly frantic–not because a delivery van had taken him out in a crosswalk and shattered his leg, but because he couldn’t make this meeting. He said he needed me to take his place.

Happy for the opportunity to step up the corporate ladder–even for a few hours–and show what a team player I was, I jumped in my car and rushed to the office to pick up my boss’s laptop and paperwork from his office, then drove downtown for the meeting.

But now, I was in a penthouse suite with my company’s client, the twitchy, sweating Mr. Burke, the owner of Burke’s Bowling, a small chain of bowling alleys in Denver, and a guy in a thousand-dollar suit. Since he was flanked by two “associates” who looked like they knocked out teeth for a living, I had a gnawing suspicion something was off. 

Like, if this was a movie, he’d be the mafia boss.

“You’re new,” Expensive Suit said, watching me too closely.

What were the odds my boss got hit today of all days? 

I never usually took part in client meetings. It wasn’t my job to come out of my cubicle to do more than go to the copier, supply closet, or the mailroom. Even though I had a degree in accounting, I’d recently taken the exam to become a certified public accountant and was waiting for my results. Until I passed, I couldn’t legally review and approve tax paperwork or get my license. If I passed because that exam was hard. My job, the one I’d only had for a few months, was contingent on it. If I failed, I got fired.

No pressure, right?

But my boss had said this was a sensitive client meeting that involved the closing of an important business deal. Now, I had a feeling he’d thrown me to the wolves. 

The hotel suite was huge. The main room alone was larger than my entire house. I was sitting in an armchair, trying to get the laptop hooked up to the hotel wifi.

“H-here’s the wire transfer information.” Mr. Burke leaned over and handed me a piece of paper. I didn’t miss the way it trembled in his fingers.

I looked down at it, then met his eyes.

I read fear in them. He was scared. Why did it seem like he was transferring funds to his business partner under duress? 

I looked at the wire transfer information. Cayman Islands. Account Name – Tigerfish. That…was weird. I quickly glanced through the paperwork I’d picked up from my boss’s desk. Three bowling alleys brought in five million dollars in revenue last month? That seemed hard to believe, especially when they only earned just over a million for all of last year. I knew, because I worked on their bookkeeping.

Also, these numbers were way too round. The deposits were too frequent and even. Which meant…

I stilled. Dear God. This wasn’t accounting. This was laundering! 

I thought going the extra mile for my boss meant the opportunity toward bigger clients that I could manage directly once I got my license, but instead, it looked like I could end up in a prison cell.

I shuffled the papers needlessly. “Um…okay.” I tried to swallow around the tight band squeezing my throat.

The red flags that should’ve been waving the moment I heard I needed to meet a client in a downtown penthouse at six in the evening were now going up left and right as I continued to leaf through the paperwork.

“So, um, I just need to see your IDs and get signatures on transfer authorization,” I said, finally producing the correct form.

“Eugene doesn’t ask for ID,” Expensive Suit snapped in a voice that sent chills down my spine. He meant my boss. The one currently in the hospital. Had this guy put him there? “Just transfer the money.”

My heart pounded against my chest. I glanced up at his two super-sized assistants who flanked him on the other side of the sofa. Did they have guns?

Don’t look! I shouldn’t look. But, did they? God, did they?

If I fucked this up, I’d probably get fired… or worse. But if I’d learned anything in my accounting studies, it was how important a paper trail was.

If I got tangled up in anything untoward, I could lose the opportunity to practice as an accountant, which I’d studied and busted my butt working two jobs to pay for. I could lose everything I worked so hard to accomplish.

Worse, I could go to prison. Or harmed by the looming thugs.

“I-I don’t know how Eugene usually does it, but I have to follow procedure.” I tried to keep my voice level, but it sounded thin and strained to my ears. I swallowed. “So, signatures, and then I can transfer the funds.”

Nobody moved.

“Please.”

Mr. Burke thrust his license at me and signed the form I set before him with trembling fingers. 

“Thank you,” I said, overly brightly, then looked at Expensive Suit. “And yours?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“It’s my account,” Mr. Burke blurted, his eyes bouncing between us like in a tennis match. “They’re all my accounts. Mr. Lazano’s signature isn’t necessary.”

Riiiiiiight. Fuck.

Well, there wasn’t much else I could do.

“Got it.” I nodded and recorded the information in my log, then added my signature.

Okay, I had a paper trail. It might cover my ass. 

Good job, me.

Except now I had evidence against them. Which…

Shit!

They probably weren’t going to just let me walk away with this, were they? The only proof of the interaction was in my log. My log. I was involved in this now because it wasn’t only proof of what they were doing, but that I was here when they did it. Which meant I might not be leaving this penthouse.

I just royally shot myself in the foot.

“Okay, let’s get this transfer going.” I used my most chipper voice as cold sweat dripped down my sides beneath my blouse.

“Please.” Expensive Suit sounded anything but mollified.

I logged into the client’s banking portal—already bookmarked, already saved—and pulled up the transfer batch waiting in drafts.

All I had to do was approve it, which I did.

Now, with that done, I needed to get the fuck out of here.

I set the laptop on the coffee table and smiled brightly. “Okay, while that’s going through, I’m just going to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” I jumped to my feet. 

Nobody said anything. No man cared about a woman and what she did in the bathroom.

“Be right back!” I sing-songed, grabbing my purse and making a beeline for the door.

I left the laptop, the paperwork, my notary stamp, and log–all the evidence. They had what they wanted.

Hopefully, they’d let me walk out of here.

My heart pounded, and sweat trickled down my back. I opened the door and stepped out, then broke into a run.

The elevator was halfway down the long hall. I pulled up my tight skirt to sprint to it, trying my best in my stilettos. I pushed the call button. Then again.

“Come on,” I muttered, then glanced back toward the penthouse.

Maybe I was being foolish. It was true that I couldn’t trust my own instincts–they always led me astray.

Well, if I’d just abandoned the company laptop and paperwork for nothing, Eugene could patch up the mess later when he got released from the hospital. I could say I had diarrhea or something and had to run.

But the door to the penthouse pushed open.

Shit. Were they coming after me? I wasn’t sticking around to find out. I glanced up at the up and down arrows above the elevator. Nothing.

My only option was to take the stairs. I ran down the hall away from the penthouse, turned the corner and–

A big guy wearing a flannel and jeans came through the doorway from the emergency stairwell. 

Fuck!

Was he one of theirs? Blocking the exit?

“You take the stairs. I’ll take the elevator.” A gruff voice carried around the corner.

Oh God. They were chasing me! Fortunately, this wasn’t their guy coming up from the stairwell because the man swiped his keycard over the electronic lock of a room halfway between me and the stairwell.

I sprinted toward him.

He paused in his open doorway and stared at me, brows slamming down.

Could I make it to the stairwell before the goon rounded the corner? 

No. No, I didn’t think I could.

I ran right for the guy, shoving past him into his hotel room.

In perfect choreography, he looped an arm around my back, spun into the room with me, and kicked the door shut with a booted foot.

 

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PACK RULE #11: NEVER RUN FROM FATE

I waited my whole life to find my mate, then she ran straight into my arms with danger chasing.

I put down the threat and kept her safe.

Now she’s seen what I can do—and she’s terrified. Of them. Of me. Of the body count I left behind to protect what’s mine.

She doesn’t trust her own instincts, doesn’t know if I’m her salvation or her next mistake.

She’s not wrong to wonder. I’m a wolf who can’t survive inside four walls without losing his mind. Claiming her as my fated mate means making a life with her away from the mountains, which might just break me.

But she’s mine. My wolf knew it from the first second I caught her scent.

I’ll burn the city down to make her mine.

Even if the city ends up burning me first.

This steamy cowboy shifter romance features an Asian-American city-girl and the rough, possessive alpha wolf who decides she’s his. Fated mates, forced proximity, and a hero who’d bury anyone who looked at her wrong. HEA guaranteed. No cheating or cliffhangers.