Wolves of Haven: Lone

Wolves of Haven

Book One: Lone

Danae Ayusso

Copyright © 2014 Danae Ayusso All
Rights Reserved

Published by Geeks on Ink

This story is copyrighted and
property rights of Danae Ayusso. This is for personal entertainment
use only, any reselling, redistribution or online publishing is
strictly prohibited by law. This story may not be reproduced,
distributed, modified or reposted to other websites.

***~~~***

Stand License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook
may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like
to share this book with another person, please purchase an
additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and
did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only,
purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of
this author.

***~~~***

All characters and situations are
fictional. Any similarities to an actual person or persons and
situations are purely coincidental and rather
impressive.

Due to the wide variety of genres
that I write, and my broad fan base, I categorize each
book/series/collection with a rating to prevent my younger audience
from accidentally purchasing a book that isn’t appropriate for
their age group.

BOOK RATING:

SUPERNATURAL
MYSTERY/SUSPENSE

**Adult situations and language,
mature and sexual content**

For more information about the
series and the author please check out

www.danaeayusso.com

[email protected]

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorDanaeAyusso

Cover Art By:

Geeks on Ink

The banquet hall was filled with
local government officials and Boston’s finest. Most would say that
the gala was well overdue, but to the ‘man of the hour’ it was an
annoying dog and pony show. Sergeant Detective de Wolfe had never
been a fan of banquets and office parties, and she would have been
a no-show that night if it wouldn’t have been for Police
Superintendent Manning and Captain Damian Nikas informing her that
attendance wasn’t optional. A rarely seen defiant side of Sergeant
Detective Akia de Wolfe reared its head, so the Sergeant Detective
opted for a slinky cocktail dress and high heels, makeup, and left
her hair down; the complete opposite of how anyone on the force had
ever seen her in all the years she had called the Boston PD
home.

“As I live and breathe,” Sergeant
Darren Snider mused, joining Akia at the bar in the corner where
she was trying to hide. His dark eyes attempted to discretely eye
her body from under his bushy gray eyebrows, but the smirk
twitching under his mustache made it more than obvious that he
liked what he saw.

Akia gave him a look, trying to
keep from gagging in repulsion, then popped a pill in her mouth and
swallowed it dry.

“Damn, I didn’t know you had such a
hot-bod under those jeans and shirts you normally wear,” he said
before bringing his tenth watered down whiskey of the evening to
his lips. “Have you given much thought into moving to Narcotics?”
he asked. “The guys would love some eye candy in the
unit.”

She shook her head in resignation;
Snider never gave her a second glance or so much as said her name
in the past five years that she’s been in C-11, and yet now he was
undressing her with his eyes and fighting the urge to lean into her
and ask if she wanted to go back to his place tonight.

Men were disgusting pigs, in her
opinion.

“Homicide, Snider,” Akia reminded
him. “Narcotics doesn’t do anything for me. Why don’t you take it
easy, sober up some,” she said, taking his drink from him, “and
I’ll have Captain call you a cab.”

He pulled his drink away from her,
causing the amber colored contents to fly across the bar and all
over the man standing at the other end.

“Oh shit,” Snider grumbled under
his breath. “Sorry, Captain,” he said, breaking eye contact with
the narrowed, sapphire eyes glaring at him.

Captain Damian Nikas fought to keep
from growling under his breath in irritation. “As much as I hate to
admit it,” he sneered, “de Wolfe is correct; call it a night.” He
pulled a handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket and used it to
wipe the whiskey from his chin and the front of his pristine black
dress shirt.

Akia fought to keep from rolling
her eyes. Captain Nikas’ attitude and smug superiority was
something she had been on the receiving end of since the moment she
walked through the doors at his precinct fresh off of patrol. The
Captain was short with everyone, his reputation was golden because
of his no nonsense way of doing things, and in his opinion, rules
and the law were not to be broken. As much as Akia hated to admit
it, she admired that about him, but she’d never tell him
that.

Snider nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he said
then headed towards the exit, not-so-discreetly brushing against
Akia as he passed.

Once the drunken, stumbling
Sergeant was out of sight, Akia slid his car keys down the bar
towards Captain Nikas. His hand slammed down on them, stopping
their progression so they didn’t hit the floor.

“Pick pocketing is against the
law,” he reminded her under his breath before pocketing the
keys.

“So is drinking and driving, but
only one is a felony,” she retorted with a smirk. “Could you
imagine the newspapers tomorrow if one of Captain Nikas’ Narcotics
goons was caught in a DUI?”

“Indeed,” Captain Nikas
sneered.

Akia tried to keep from laughing at
the irritable Captain’s expense. “If there is nothing else, Sir,”
she said then started to walk away.

“Expect my dry cleaning bill,” he
informed her.

She stopped in mid-step and her
head dropped; that she should have foreseen. “Of course,” she
grumbled under her breath. “Heaven forbid your designer duds get a
bit of whiskey on them.”

“And that is why you should expect
the bill,” he retorted, walking past her. “If it wasn’t for that
handkerchief you’re wearing, I wouldn’t smell of cheap
alcohol.”

Akia bit her tongue; she didn’t
want to earn an award and a black mark in her file for
insubordination all on the same night. She watched Captain Nikas
walk away, her eyes flickering to his backside once as he
went.

“It’s a shame the hot ones are
always gay or gigantic assholes,” Detective Marcia Jones commented,
joining Akia. “Seriously,” she said, her head tilting to the side
as she admired the muscular backside that was expertly presented in
designer slacks, across the banquet hall, “such a bitter
sonuvabitch with an ass like that has to be against the
law.”

Akia shook her head, trying to keep
from laughing. “Jonesy, men like that are selfish lovers, and the
unable to love them but quick to leave them types. Not something
your needy, romantic ass could handle at the moment.”

Marcia sighed. “True, but damn;
that is a fine piece of ass. Too bad his personality
sucks.”

Akia eyed the fine piece of ass in
question from across the room; his back was to them, but his
presence stood out amongst the crowd: six-two, broad shoulders,
head full of short black curls that were always restrained by hair
product in an attempt to keep them hidden, olive complexion true to
his Greek heritage, thick black lashes encased sapphire blue eyes
that were cold, and wide lips that never parted to reveal his white
smile. He was the youngest Captain in Boston PD history, worked his
way up from beat cop to Detective, Sergeant in the SAU, and a stint
in I.A. secured him next in line for Captain, his family were cops
from around the country, his old man retiring from the Boston PD
five years ago just as his progeny escalated to rank of Captain.
“You don’t play where you work, Jonesy, you know that,” she
reminded her. “Besides, a man with his short hairs in a twist, as
that man obviously has, isn’t worth wasting your time admiring. You
and the rest of them heading out for drinks after this?” she asked,
changing the subject.

Marcia made a face. “Yes, you
should join us, but I know you won’t,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“But just this once can’t you make an attempt to be one of the guys
with us? This is the last time we’ll be partners,” she whined then
pouted her bottom lip out.