Renee's Mates Read online

  RENEE’S MATES

  Shelley Munro

  Churchill Polar Bears #3

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  1 – Misty Asks For A Favor

  2 – Renee’s Quest For A Man Fails

  3 – Breakfast Flirtation With Renee

  4 – Haunted By The Taktuq Brothers

  5 – Sexy Times With Matto

  6 – The Truth Comes Out

  7 – An Outing With The Taktuq Brothers

  8 – More Brothers. More Sex

  9 – The Big Fall

  10 – Where Is Renee?

  11 – It Starts To Make Sense

  12 – The Taktuqs Take To The Tundra

  13 – On The Trial Of Renee

  14 – Found: Bumps And Bruises

  15 – Misty And A Future

  Excerpt – My Second Chance

  About Shelley

  Other Books By Shelley

  Copyright Page

  Introduction

  Four brothers seek one woman. Mission: revenge.

  Soldier Renee Paulson and her best friend witnessed a murder. When her friend dies in suspicious circumstances, Renee flees to a secluded town. A helicopter pilot, she flies tourists over the tundra and delivers supplies while keeping a low profile.

  Like most werewolves, the Taktuq brothers are family oriented. Their younger sister is adamant Renee had an affair with her soldier husband, and they promise to investigate. Exhaustive research leads them to the Arctic town of Churchill. Renee Paulson or Renee James, the name she goes by now, is a sexy surprise. She’s solitary and wary, and it seems she is their mate. Perturbed, the brothers push on with wooing and romance while conflicted by their obligation to their sister. Peeling away Renee’s protective layers reveals a desirable, intelligent woman—one they wish to keep in their lives.

  When an assassin catches up with Renee, the Taktuq brothers embrace their wolves to save her. They’ll do anything to guard their mate, even protect her from their sister.

  Contains a strong, plain-Jane heroine, four werewolf heroes with attitude, lots of secret sexy times, a pissed younger sister and an assassin with a big gun.

  1 – Misty Asks For A Favor

  “What’s up, Misty?” Calian Taktuq entered their sister’s beach-side house in a suburb of Los Angeles. He was the oldest of the Taktuq siblings. His three younger brothers Matto, Kansas, and Dakota tromped after him sounding like a herd of bison rather than werewolves. City living had made them soft and complacent. Now that they controlled their full moon shifts with medication, transforming to wolf had become a luxury rather than imperative.

  “Quiet,” Misty ordered in a loud whisper. “You’ll wake the baby. I’ve just put him down. Come to the kitchen and I’ll put on the coffee.”

  Once they settled at the breakfast bar, Misty bustled about making a pot of coffee. Waves rolled into shore, visible through the large windows above the kitchen sink. The muted swish as the waves reached the seafront added an audible accompaniment, as did the two mothers and their brood of children building sandcastles on the beach.

  Calian glanced at his brothers. Not one of them had any idea why their sister had summoned them. He turned back to Misty. Fatigue shadowed her eyes, but a new baby was a disruption. Hunter’s death had also shaken her. It couldn’t be easy going through the last months of pregnancy and having a baby after the death of her husband. They’d tried to be there for her—the reason they were all in California. That didn’t happen often because they ran a hotel conglomerate.

  “Do you want us to hire help for the baby?” Matto asked.

  “Already taken care of.” Misty tucked a strand of long black hair behind her ear. “I have nanny interviews scheduled for next week. The hospital called me yesterday. Hunter’s belongings—the things he had on his person at the time of the shooting—they located them. Evidently, a temp worker put them in the wrong place.”

  “How did they know they belonged to Hunter?” Kansas, one of the twins, asked.

  “The temp worker labeled the things correctly. They had Hunter’s name on them. His phone and billfold, cash and his watch.”

  Calian exchanged a glance with Dakota, Kansas’s twin and shrugged. Misty would spit out whatever troubled her when she was ready. “Have the police any leads on who shot Hunter?”

  “Nothing new,” Misty said.

  “Is it something to do with the murder he witnessed?” Matto asked. “The one he couldn’t discuss?”

  “They don’t think so, but the cop I spoke with admitted they couldn’t be certain. He said we’ll probably never know.”

  Instead of the tortured pain Calian had seen since the funeral and the birth of their nephew, he saw something else. Anger. No, fury glittered in her brown eyes. Determination.

  “I charged Hunter’s phone and guessed his password. It was our wedding anniversary date. His army buddy Chopper is a woman. There were photos on the phone. Selfies of Hunter and this woman. They were having an affair. I want you to find her so I can see her expression when she realizes their affair is no longer a secret. Bring her to me and I’ll spit in her face. The trips he took to meet his army buddies—the visits I encouraged—were to meet her,” Misty spat. Temper painted her olive cheeks with red and her eyes glittered with venom.

  “Are you sure?” Dakota asked, the peacemaker in their family.

  “You want proof? I’ll give you proof,” Misty snarled and stomped from the kitchen. She returned a short time later with a cell phone clutched in her hand. She reclaimed her seat and powered up the phone. After a few finger taps, she handed it to Matto, who was sitting next to her.

  Matto thumbed through the photos and wordlessly gave the phone to Kansas. Dakota received the phone next and, finally, it reached Calian. He looked at the first photo of a woman in a helicopter. It was difficult to see her face with the helmet and sunglasses. The next photo was someplace in the desert. Afghanistan, he presumed since Hunter spent time stationed there before his deployment ended. Once he and Misty planned to start a family, Hunter hadn’t re-upped, instead taking a job with a local landscape gardener. A job he’d loved, according to Misty.

  The third photo showed both Hunter and the woman in civvies, their faces pressed together as they hammed it up for the camera.

  “There were more photos tucked in his billfold. I have no idea what he saw in her. She’s not even pretty.”

  She wasn’t—not in the traditional manner. The woman didn’t smile much, but when she did, it lit up her face. Her brown eyes shone and two dimples dug into her cheeks, highlighting her plump lips and slightly too big mouth. In most of the photos she appeared somber, but it was obvious she and Hunter were relaxed with each other.

  “Do you know her name?”

  “No, Hunter only ever called her Chopper and let me assume she was a man.”

  Part of Calian understood Hunter’s reticence. Misty was a jealous woman and had never shared well, but from what he’d seen of Hunter and his sister together… No, Hunter had adored Misty and his excitement on learning of his child had charmed their parents. He—hell, all of them had liked and trusted Hunter Kincade.

  “Do you know where she lives?”

  “All I know is that Chopper flies helicopters and was working north of here, helping with the fires,” Misty said. “I don’t know who she works for. I tried to call the number on Hunter’s phone but it doesn’t exist.”

  Calian nosed around the rest of the phone. Hunter had heaps of photos of Misty, and in each photo that included both Hunter and Misty, he gave the appearance of an infatuated man. Calian skimmed past one of Hunter and his sister because of the Peeping Tom sensation that swirled through his belly. Although both wore clothes, Hunter held his sister tenderly, his
hand pressed to her belly. It was the shared intimacy, the clear love and an intensely private moment that had Calian uneasy. This wasn’t a man who intended to cheat on his wife. Hunter appeared besotted and crazy in love.

  “Can we take the phone?” Calian asked.

  “Keep it. I have copies of the stuff I want.” Misty gripped her coffee mug so hard Calian wondered if the crockery would stand the pressure.

  Calian sipped his coffee and set it aside. Cold. He detested cold coffee. “Is there anything in his billfold that might help us find the woman?”

  Each of his brothers scowled. Their reluctance to put aside their work didn’t surprise Calian, but they had competent staff. They’d slogged to make their company run with or without their presence. It wouldn’t hurt for them to step away for a month. Besides, they all owned phones and could work remotely if necessary. It was the age of the digital nomad. Why not embrace the fact?

  “I couldn’t find anything helpful, but take it if you want. There were business cards and phone numbers I don’t recognize in his billfold,” Misty said.

  “Do you have the number for the cop in charge of Hunter’s case?” Calian decided the cop might give him something. Hunter and another army buddy had been in Miami with several of their friends. A reunion of sorts. Hunter and his friend had witnessed a murder. Both had been remote witnesses, questioned from afar by the lawyers for their safety.

  Calian and his brothers had always thought Hunter’s murder linked with the drug lord’s son who had died in prison shortly after incarceration. Hunter’s death smacked of revenge, and Calian wondered if investigating Hunter’s friend might stir more trouble along with secrets. Yeah, speaking with the cop and laying out the truth might net answers. It was worth a try.

  “Can we have a peek at our nephew?” Dakota asked.

  Misty eyed them with a stern parental glare. “If you wake my son, you will stay to settle him again.”

  “Misty, why don’t you grab a nap or take a relaxing bath?” Matto suggested. “We’ll stay for a few hours and keep an eye on Rufus.”

  “You’d do that?” Tears formed in Misty’s big brown eyes.

  “We’re your big brothers. Of course we’d let you rest,” Dakota said.

  “And you’ll find this woman for me? I’d do it myself but it’s difficult with the baby.”

  “We will,” Kansas promised.

  “Thank you. I knew I could count on my brothers.” Her mouth opened in a huge and loud yawn. “I am tired. I haven’t slept through a night since I brought Rufus home from the hospital.”

  Once Misty left the room, Calian stood and walked outside onto the terrace overlooking the beach. His brothers followed.

  “Are we sure about this?” Dakota asked. “Hunter and Misty were mates. She’d bitten him. Hunter wore a mark.”

  “He wasn’t a wolf,” Matto said. “While Misty bonded to him, it wouldn’t necessarily be reciprocal. She told me he didn’t know she was a werewolf. It’s easy enough to hide these days.”

  “Look at this.” Calian pulled up the photo on the phone. “It’s a snap of Hunter and Misty. The intimacy between them makes me uncomfortable. That is not a cheater.”

  “It’s a recent photo,” Kansas said.

  “What are you saying?” Dakota asked. “That these other photos are innocent?”

  “I’ve no idea.” Calian turned off the phone and shoved it in his jeans pocket.

  Matto stepped off the deck and kicked at the sand. “We’ve promised Misty we’ll check it out.”

  “And we will,” Calian said. “But we should do it with an open mind. I liked Hunter, and from what I saw, he loved Misty. We should tread carefully and build a case rather than jumping to conclusions.”

  “Ooh! Big brother is reading mysteries again,” Kansas teased.

  “They help me relax,” Calian retorted.

  “You should try sex.” Kansas waggled his eyebrows. “Works for me.”

  “It works for me too. But I like to have a little variety.”

  The cries of an unhappy baby drifted to them, and Dakota and Kansas hustled off to tend to their nephew. They both possessed healing powers, their touchy-feely gift aiding those who experienced trouble sleeping. The twins also helped people with injuries. They’d send Rufus back to sleep in no time.

  While Calian didn’t enjoy digging into Hunter’s past, it occurred to him it might present an opportunity for them to get back to their wolves. It was seldom they were in the same place together. A month spent bonding with each other and their wolves wouldn’t go amiss.

  Yeah, he’d set plans in motion. They shouldn’t set aside their wolf heritage even if humans weren’t ready to accept myths and legends held more than a smidgeon of truth.

  2 – Renee’s Quest For A Man Fails

  Three months later

  Renee James stalked down the broad Kelsey Avenue in Churchill, Canada. She’d worked all day, flying tourists over the tundra. The object—polar bears. With the growing number of visitors in town for the beginning of the polar bear season, she’d flown full loads, getting as much pleasure from seeing the big predators as her passengers. Now, she was off work and not due to fly her next trip until tomorrow morning, weather permitting.

  Most people drank to forget. Or they did drugs. Renee loved her helicopters, rejoiced in her job and refused to do anything to jeopardize her flying. Each time she zipped through the sky—whether it was taking a load of tourists or running freight or fighting forest fires, she reveled in the sense of freedom. Flying offered her control and happiness—the joy she no longer experienced while earthbound.

  No drinking to forget. No drugs to zone out, which left sex.

  She excelled at sex, enjoyed it immensely, and while she was no stunner in the looks department, she did all right with the tourists who flocked to Churchill during the summer to see the beluga whales or during the fall to view the polar bears in their natural territory. She satisfied the men with a vacation hook-up. In return, she received uncomplicated company and pleasure to drive away the memories that stalked her during the hours of darkness.

  Her boots struck with precise steps on the icy gravel edges of the road while her gaze swiveled back and forth, taking in the scenery. A remnant from her army days, and not a bad habit to have in Churchill. Although the polar bear patrol took care of most of the bears before they entered town—either scaring them off or trapping and placing them in polar bear jail—it never hurt to keep alert. Polar bears were powerful animals, and at this time of the year, they were hungry. Most hadn’t eaten for eight months, and Renee didn’t intend to become any creature’s next dinner.

  A cool breeze tugged her hair, nipped at her nose and she wrapped her padded navy-blue jacket around her chest. She walked past the charred and blackened remains of Gypsy’s and thought longingly of their donuts. The fire had happened so fast not even the volunteer firefighters had arrived in time to save the Churchill landmark.

  Instead of heading for the bar favored by the locals, Renee stomped the faint coating of ice from her boots and opened the door to a restaurant that catered to tour groups. The savory tang of roasting meat floated to her, and her stomach offered a sharp protest. It was early still, but she’d forgotten to pack lunch and her midday meal had comprised one muesli bar. She’d grab a steak—or maybe that was roast chicken she could smell. Her grumbling belly would appreciate anything she fed it.

  Renee accepted a menu from the waitress. A new but bubbly stranger to Churchill, she bore the Australian accent common to many of the workers. Renee scanned the woman and the tension that had slipped into her muscles, eased.

  “I’ll take the corner table. Is that okay?” Renee asked.

  “No problem. We’ve put reserved signs on the tables for the tour parties. Any table without a reserved sign is fair game. Can I bring you something to drink?”

  Renee started to say she’d have a soda, but at the last moment, changed her mind. She had to remember to change things up and not
revert to old habits all the time. “A glass of house white wine is fine.”

  “All righty then,” the waitress chirped. “I’ll be with you in a minute to take your order.”

  Renee watched the woman sashay off. She couldn’t be much younger than her, yet Renee felt immeasurably older. Death and danger did that to a girl.

  By the time Renee scanned the menu and the special’s board, the waitress had arrived with her drink and a basket of bread rolls and butter.

  “What are you having tonight?”

  “I’ll take the roast chicken dinner,” Renee said.

  Cheerful chatter from the entrance announced the first tour group. Renee’s gaze ran over the different faces, both male and female. Her pulse bumped up a notch, and she forced herself to take a slow breath and reach for calm. She’d taken every precaution. Once she’d closed her social media accounts and left California, the constant stream of threats and abuse had ceased.

  Hunter had helped her make a plan. Tears blurred her eyes for an instant, and she blinked hard, annoyed for letting emotion get to her. Emotion wouldn’t keep her alive. No, emotion would more likely get her killed.

  Aware she rode a narrow precipice—a balance between safety and danger—in her search for a bed partner to drive away the memories, she studied faces. Mentally, she rejected men who wore wedding rings or accompanied another woman. No one in this group then.

  The waitress arrived with Renee’s meal, and her stomach growled.

  “Someone is hungry,” the waitress chirped.

  Renee forced a smile of the sheepish variety. “I missed lunch.” It was hard not to like the bubbly redhead with her down under twang. With Hunter gone, loneliness filled her days. Another reason to find a man to share her bed. A warm body to chase away the pain of loss.

  “Well, enjoy!” The waitress swished off to chat with the new arrivals.

  Renee cut a piece of chicken and shoved it in her mouth. She moaned with pleasure on eating the first bite, and while her stomach still rumbled, it sounded marginally happier. Renee applied herself to her meal, appreciating the hot food. Although she mostly ate at home to save money in case she needed to disappear in a hurry, she wasn’t much of a cook.