Most Eligible Wolf - Julie Steimle (e novels to read TXT) 📗

Her Wolf

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Audry Bruchenhaus had a great view of the convention center from her corner booth. The convention center was buzzing like a field of dandelions in summer, people going from booth to booth and peeking their heads around searching for something interesting and enticing about the latest eco-saving device or idea. Her booth, which was full of posters and eco-friendly tee shirts for sale, was situated between one hallway entrance and the main display area. NYU Green Club had chosen well.

Currently, Audry was arranging their best-seller on the hanging wall behind them—the Endangered Wolf. Her wolf, really. The image on the tee shirt was from her computer screensaver—a picture of a rust-haired wolf with mesmerizing gray eyes and a number of scars from gun shots and claw marks. Everyone in the Green Club, when they had seen it, had said unanimously that it was the perfect example of their cause.

It was a great money maker too. Nearly everybody liked a wolf shirt. And this wolf had soul.

Pulling up her bushy brown hair into a ponytail to keep the sweat off her neck, Audry heaved a sigh and gazed over the display. She was using this booth as a platform for her own fundraising since she was working on her doctorate and needed money for their rescue efforts in African the countries the intended to visit that summer.

Her cellphone buzzed.

Sighing, Audry picked it up. The picture of her secret roommate, Silvia Lewis popped up. It was a secret Silvia was living with her because Silvia was not on the apartment contract, and Silvia needed a hideaway while the whole mess with her crazy family situation blew over, even after she had gotten a temporary job as a counselor at a private school.

“Hello?” Audry whispered, putting a finger in her other ear to block out convention noise.

<< Hey. Do you want me to pick up dinner for you after your convention thing is over? >>

Audry thought about it. Her group had talked about going to a restaurant that evening. They were going to be at the convention for a week, and she was not sure whether she wanted to hang with all the Masters’ students or the undergrads. It was amazing to how they were actually wearing her out. People were annoying. Audry much more preferred to be among animals.

“Uh, no. That’s ok.” Audry sighed, thinking more on it. “I think I should stick with the group tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

<< Ok. >> Silvia chuckled. But before she was about to hang up, she said, << Hey, if you can, save for me one of those wolf tee shirts. I want to give one to my brother, Danny. He’ll get a kick out of it. >>

“Do you want one too?” Audry asked wryly, knowing how much Silvia got a giggle out of seeing that particular wolf on Audry’s laptop and now put on a tee shirt.

Silvia laughed. << Maybe later. Are you wearing it right now? >>

“Duh,” Audry said, gazing down at the beautiful silk-screened image on her chest. “I’ve gotta display the merchandise.”

Laughing more Silvia said, << Oh, I honestly wish… >> She didn’t finish.

“Wish what?” Audry asked, feeling tired at how Silvia often stopped in the middle of sentences these days, censoring herself. Audry knew why she was doing it, of course. They had agreed that if Silvia was going to live with her, she had to stop talking about creepy things. But Audry was also incredibly curious, and she hated not knowing what was going on.

<< Nothing. I just wish I could be there if Howie ever saw it. >>

Howie.

Audry flushed a little at the mention of that name. She knew Howie as Rick—Rick Deacon. But Silvia had known him as Howie Deacon—or more accurately, Howard Richard Deacon III—most of her life. Silvia had grown up with him in the same town and often talked casually about the guy. He was their mutual acquaintance, and in many ways what had brought them together as friends. Honestly Audry probably never would have been Silva’s friend had it not been for Rick.

Long story.

Silvia had hung up unceremoniously after that. That was her way. She wasn’t exactly a well-mannered person. In fact, Audry and Silvia were nothing alike. Silvia was going to beauty school. She was also a former follower of the occult. Silvia openly called it witchcraft. These days, the only magic Silvia got into was amazing hair styling and really cool fingernail art. But she was still often rude.

Audry went back to her work at the booth.

“Eh,” a man said, gesturing to one of the posters of her wolf. “Those are for sale?”

Turning to meet his gaze, Audry nodded. “Yes, they’re…” She choked on her words for a second as the man in front of her was mostly dressed in leather—not the faux black leather of goths, but brown sturdy cowboy grade leather. His clothes seemed almost steampunk, as he had numerous pockets and a variety of empty holsters, which in normal cases would have been filled with things like guns and—she imagined—wooden stakes. “…for sale. What do you want it for?”

“Target practice.” He laughed.

With a dirty look, Audry said, “We reserve the right to withhold product from those who do not hold with our values.”

“That’s discrimination,” he said, his eyes narrowing mockingly on her.

“This is an animal rights protection booth,” she snapped. “Go somewhere else for your nasty business.”

He laughed more, but he did not quite leave yet. His eyes raked over the wolf on the tee shirts and the posters. He asked, “How did you get that picture?”

Audry huffed. “I took it. I do nature photography on the side.”

Smirking at her, the man looked Audry up and down, taking in her bushy hair, her blue green eyes, her tee shirt and jeans, and her fit physique. He chuckled to himself as if shrugging something off.

“What?” she snapped.

Grinning wider, he said, “You got in close proximity to that wolf?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You know that wolf?”

He smirked.

“You’ve shot at that wolf,” Audry ground out tightly, knowing the kind of person who would.

He just smiled as though proud of it.

Huffing, Audry shook her head. Of course. It made total sense. This wasn’t just any old steampunk LARPer. He was one of those nut-jobs from the Supernatural Regulator’s Association. Those psychos who actually believed in things like werewolves and hunted every full moon for one.

Those schoolmates in the booth with her stared at him, appalled.

“What?” Jandra Washington exclaimed. Her dark face pulled into a long opened-mouthed gape at the hunter. “You have the gall to come here and ask for a poster to shoot a wolf you tried to kill? Get away from here! Get!”

He laughed more. But he backed up. Jandra was more dangerous than Audry could ever be to a LARPing white male hunter. He could make one stupid remark and Jandra could scream racism—never mind what he was doing was totally unrelated.

He strolled off.

One of the booth workers hissed to Audry, “That’s the third weirdo asking about that wolf. Audry, where did you get that picture of that wolf?”

Sighing, Audry closed her eyes. She fingered the chain to the necklace she always wore, then she pulled it out from under her shirt. “See this?”

They nodded. They had seen it before.

“I dug this bullet out of that wolf’s leg. That’s how I got the picture,” she said. Then she shook her head more, thinking about that day. “I was working on my Master’s then. Almost two years ago.”

“But how come they all know that wolf?” they asked.

Rolling her eyes, Audry went to open up another box of merchandise. One of the other workers had already sold three tee shirts in that short time, and her box was getting low. She needed more larges. “Because, for some odd reason that wolf is connected to a really powerful family, and those nut jobs think he is a werewolf.”

They stared. One of them laughed.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Audry said, and she went back to work.

As people came and went, some of their booth workers went off to attend various panels and speakers. Most of them had come to help at the fundraising booth because it was their free ticket into the venue and some famous people were going to show up. They heard that Al Gore, Bill Gates, and Greenpeace were going to be in attendance. Someone from the UN was going to talk about sustainability and agenda 2030. And of course, rumor had it that that Mr. Howard Richard Deacon III would be there in a panel and quite possibly a question/answer session as he had been consistently attending these conferences in place of his father since he was eighteen.

The girls at the booth started talking about him.

“I hear he is superhot,” that gal said as she marked the time he was going to speak on her schedule.

“He might be hot, but man, he is the one percent,” her friend retorted. “I doubt he cares about anything but making money.”

“Well, he needs a lot of bodyguards,” one of them remarked.

“Of course he does. The dude is stinking wealthy. I heard he gets attacked at nearly every conference he has been to.”

“Attacked?”

“Yeah. Like the first time he came, he had acid thrown on him.”

Audry moaned. “That’s not what happened.”

They looked to her, surprised.

“I was there,” Audry said with hanging shoulders. She passed over a poster to a patron, collecting the money for it. “It was when he signed my permission form for me to do my Master’s project on his land.”

They stared more.

“No kidding?”

“What happened?

Sighing, Audry explained, “It was more like an allergy attack. The Deacons have severe allergies. They’re allergic to weird things like honey and some kind of flower. And some jerk put that flower in front of a fan near the stage and he went into anaphylactic shock.”

They stared more.

The patron also stared. Then he asked, “Really? When was that?”

Audry blinked at the patron then counted on her fingers, “Let’s see… about four years ago, maybe? Possibly three.”

“And he still comes to these?” one of her group murmured.

“I don’t think he has a choice,” Audry replied, looking to her. “I think it is all part of him taking up the reins of the company.”

“You know a lot about him,” one of her booth mates murmured.

Moaning, Audry shook her head. “I know people who know him. And I have bumped into him on occasion.” She gestured to the wolf posters. “And he knows all about me rescuing that wolf. He was there at the time.”

“No way,” they murmured.

“I want a tee shirt too,” the patron said, smiling.

“Do you think he’d buy one of our shirts?” one of her booth mates asked.

Audry cringed. She didn’t want to have to deal with Rick Deacon again. Trouble seemed to follow that stoosh ginnygog. Besides, her last encounter with him had been embarrassing.

Closing her eyes, she could still see it.

Dramatic enough for Hollywood, Harlin Nichols (her ex) had stormed into a posh New York party (where she was attending with her cousin Vincent to represent her grandfather’s business) to confront Rick, loudly accusing them of having a torrid affair—which could not have been further from the truth. And though Rick had handled it in stride, Audry could not quite walk through that part of town without feeling sullied. She wasn’t fond of hanging out with the well-to-do crowd anyway. That was a part of her family history she wished to distance herself from at all costs.

“I don’t care if he does,” Audry said.

“He could sell them for us,” one of them remarked off-handedly.

“No.” Audry glared hard at him, heavily shaking her head. “Keep him out of it. This is my project. We don’t need a handout from the One Percent.”

And that was it. No more argument.

But her booth-mates still whispered over who would be