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SADIE
Kensington Cove
Michelle De La Garza
SADIE (Book 1)
Kensington Cove
Copyright©2020
Michelle L. De La Garza
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Design by Wren Taylor
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published in the United States of America by
DLG Publishing Partners
www.DLGPUBLISHINGPARTNERS.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Acknowledgments
This book wouldn’t have been possible without the support and encouragement of the many people who saw me through this wondrous and emerging process. I would like to thank my family for their unwavering support and dedication, and my editor and partner in crime, who always has a word list or two for me.
For my daughter, Kristin,
Who inspires me to be more than I am;
My husband, Valdemar,
Who is my guiding light and soulmate;
Sons, Patrick and Joshua,
Who offer a ray of light in the darkness.
Blurb
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Sadie Reed never knew her real family, but a series of chaotic events sends her running to Kensington Cove. The day she arrives, a driving mishap lands her in the arms of one hot, sexy, leather-clad biker, Ethan Cotter.
Lupine shifter Ethan Cotter, a member of the Shoshone clan, has a problem. And that curvaceous problem, with long, tantalizing legs has a name, Sadie Reed.
The wolf in him stirred the moment they met. But Ethan’s worried his secret will scare her off. But Sadie has secrets of her own, secrets that will turn Kensington Cove into a battle zone for supremacy.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Sneak Peek
Excerpt of Ava (Book 2)
About the Author
Chapter One
Sadie Reed
“TURN RIGHT.” The cell phone’s navigation system pierces the interior silence of the Infinity that’s coasting in the dark, over an unfamiliar rural Texas road.
Fingers wrapped tightly around the wheel, I take a sharp right.
“Would it kill ya to give an advance notice next time?”
The car’s bald, smooth tires screech over the pitted two-lane road, then skid off the shoulder for a few seconds.
My backpack purse topples over and lands on the floorboard, spilling the contents.
“Oh, great. That’s just great!”
A quick glance in the rearview mirror reveals an undisturbed pile of clothes on the backseat.
My cell rings. Dana Moore, brown hair and freckles, flashes across the screen.
“Hey, Freckles. What’s up?”
“Where the hell are you?” Dana’s bubbly voice oozes through the phone. “We’re at the Sonic on Main and 4th Street.”
“Yeah. Don’t wait on me.” Dana, Lynn, Megan, and the rest of the gang’s voices merge together in the background to form one loud, unintelligible crackling of speech.
“Why not?” The whine in Dana’s voice brings to mind pouty lips—most likely tinted with blue, purple, or green—well, anything bright and up in your face.
“Moving.”
“Damn. That’s today? Man, that sucks. I have tickets to South by South West tonight. Now what am I supposed to do?”
“Jeez, didn’t mean to ruin your day. It’s not as if people forced you to move to a shit hole.”
“Sorry, girl.” The noise in the background fades. “I guess I didn’t put the right moving day on the agenda.” She sniffles.
It hadn’t been on my agenda either. Hell, I still had things to do, places to go, and people to visit in San Antonio, Texas, or at least, who I wanted to see—Dana, namely.
“It’s not you. They changed the moving date—had to leave three weeks early.”
A deer leaps out of the tall grass and sprints in front of the car.
“What the fuck?” I grab the wheel and swerve off the road and on to the edge of the shoulder.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” My heart hammers in my chest, battering ribs like a snare drum. “I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
“Bambi ran across the fucking road.”
“Oh, my God. That’s so cool.”
“Yeah, no.” That’s so like her to say. “It really wasn’t.”
“Hey, so what happened? Why’d the date get changed?”
“Dr. Gus called me into the office this morning.”
“The counselor or principle?”
“Counselor.” An image of Dr. Gus, the principle, in her business suit next to her counselor husband, fill my thoughts. “Anyway, he said, ‘There’s been a development,’ then gushed about how sorry he was, and how things always happen for a reason.”
“That’s bullshit?”
“I know, right? It’s not as if his life has gone from semi-crap to, well, a healthy heaping of shit running downhill.”
“What an ass. So, what was the development? Did he say?”
“He mumbled something about the Greene household and their dealings.”
“Isn’t that your foster family?”
“Was. They were illegally using government funds—for drugs mainly, I think.”
“It’s not as if their dealings were a secret or anything. Everyone on the block knows that. Hell, I knew. Those who didn’t, chose not to know.”
“Yep. Drones.” Plowed pastures fan out as far as the eye can see on both sides of the car. “Sticking their heads in the sand and living in a make-believe world.”
“So, where are you moving now?”
“A ranch, in Kensington Cove. But it’s different.”
“Different how?” Dana squeals into the phone. A male voice filters into the background.
“Is that you, Matt?”
“Yep, and Dana is indisposed of for the next hour or two.” Matt’s voice booms over the cell. “She’ll have to call you back.” The line goes dead.
“Well, that’s great. Just fuckin’ great.”
Growing up in the foster care system teaches one to never count on staying in one place for too long, which suits
me fine, but now, things are different.
Where I’m heading this time leads to home—to a family ranch, roots unknown to me, which is cool but scary as hell. Something I’m not sure how to feel about yet.
If the Greene family hadn’t walked into incarceration, I could’ve eased into a new life at the end of the school year, but no, they had to deal some homegrown shit to a police officer, and I’m the one punished, forced to move away from my school, my friends.
The cell rings again. This time, Attorney flashes across the screen.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Sadie. This is Mr. Lambert.”
I glance at my phone but can’t see the GPS location screen to see how far away the town is now.
“I’m still on I-10, but I don’t think I’m far. When I get to the burger joint, where do I go? Front? Back?”
“There’s been a change of plans.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m tied up in court and can’t leave right now. I’ve phoned ahead, and someone will meet you at the ranch house later tonight. Just use the keys to get in.”
“Where’s that?” Blood rushed to my ears, making it hard to concentrate, let alone hear.
“Don’t panic.” Static crackles over the line.
“Hello? Are you there? Can you hear me?”
“Yeah. I’m here. Don’t stress. You’ve got the address in the paperwork I sent over.” He pauses. “Hey, they just called my case.”
“Wait. I need—”
“I’ll call later. Gotta go.”
The line drops, and the GPS directions open on the screen.
Sixteen years in the system without a card, a call, or a simple ‘Hi, how are you?’ from any family member, and now, there’s a lead on my ancestral line. A long-lost relative—unfucking believable.
Well, at least this time, I’m moving to my place instead of leaving someone else’s, and like he said, I got the paperwork to prove it.
The cell, perched inside the cracked phone holder, shows the next turn is nine-tenths of a mile away.
My stomach gurgles and butterflies bounce around. At this point, I can’t tell if it’s from hunger or the stress of the unknown.
A farmhouse, barn, and corral sit on the property in good condition, at least from the aerial photos. Some quick internet searches before I left, brought up indigenous wildlife: turkeys, armadillos—which carry bacteria causing leprosy, or so an article had said—deer, snapping turtles, wild pigs, raccoons, rabbits, and bobcats, as well as mountain lions, coyotes, and gray wolves that all inhabit the area.
The thought of running into hunting pack-animals, carnivores, does nothing for me.
Hell, I’d rather find a group of leprosy-dillos than entertain a pack of large cats or wolves.
The road ahead twists and turns.
Nothing but brush and moonlight surrounds me.
A few fireflies, or what I hope are fireflies and not eyes, glow in the thicket close to the shoulder.
The headlights of my car illuminate a green reflective sign.
“Kensington Cove city limits.” Population stats, nine hundred and ninety-one, flash before my eyes. “You really are a shit hole, aren’t you?”
Chapter Two
Ethan Cotter
THE METALLIC SCENT of blood lingers, and the coppery taste coats my tongue and mouth, which only serves to wake my inner beast. On edge, I scan the area. But it’s not the blood that holds my attention. No. It’s the residual stench of an unknown lycan that sets my predatory instincts on heightened alert.
Kneeling, I inspect the slash marks carved into the abdomens and necks of the two mutilated calves.
A familiar scent lingers in the air. It belongs to a human rancher.
“Howdy, Jeb.” Head down, I continue examining the specimens.
Two sets of legs, eight in all, protrude from a single birthing sack. The outer shell of the tiny hooves, still soft, feel like rubber bands.
“Did you know she was carrying twins?”
“Yeah.” Jeb Snyder spits a wad of snuff-infused saliva. “I suspected as much a little over a month ago.”
“They’re small, even for newborns.”
“Betty here wasn’t due to give birth for another couple of weeks.” Jeb pats the cow’s neck, then loops a rope around her head. “Isn’t that right, ‘ol girl?”
“How’d you find them?”
“When Betty didn’t come home, I went looking for her.” Jeb coils the rope around his calloused hand, taking out the slack. “This is the second attack on my property in as many weeks. Plus, the Taylors had a colt taken down just five days ago.”
“I heard about that.”
“Well, a few of us landowners are thinking of getting together and hunting the animal who did this. You and your brother are welcome to join us.” He pauses. “It sure is a shame.” Jeb shakes his head. “As a rancher, you expect a loss now and then when food is scarce but that ain’t the case here. No. This animal isn’t hunting for food. Nope. It’s killing for the sport.”
The phone in my pocket vibrates against my leg. Rising, I fish the device free, and then check the call log.
Cole’s number sprawls across the screen. He’s my older brother—or parental shadow, as I like to refer to him.
“What?” Fourteen months separates us, but you’d think it was more with the way he rides my ass.
Ever since Dad’s death a few months ago, Ma says he’s seventeen going on forty—he sure as hell has the grumpy old man part down.
“What’d you find out?” Cole’s voice booms in my ear. “Was it a coyote?”
“Nope. Afraid not.” I walk away from Jeb.
No sense in a human overhearing the conversation. The content isn’t meant for his kind’s ears.
“Lycan?” asks Cole in his, I’m-in-charge-voice.
“Yep.” I duck under the barbed-wire fence.
“You leaving?” Jeb leads Betty to the edge of his property. He leans against a post.
“Yeah. Ma expects me home for supper.” I head to my motorcycle parked on the shoulder of the road.
“Say hello to your mother.”
“I will. Let me know when you rally the other ranchers,” I shout over a shoulder at Jeb. “You have my number.”
“I’ll give you a call.”
The sun is setting, and soon, it’ll be dark.
I mount my bike, then heads off down the road.
Drawing in a deep breath, I catch traces of the lycan.
Fucking rogue asshole, the words rolls around in my head.
Kensington Cove has always had visiting lupines and lycans. But here lately, the town has had more than its fair share of both, especially lycans without a clan. And the Kweo are always more than willing to add another stray to their cause, which is what makes that clan unpredictable, unlike my brethren, the Shoshone.
Hell. If it were up to the Alpha of the Kweo, the masquerade would’ve ended long ago.
Shadows of darkness dance around.
I flip on the headlight and zip my leather jacket.
A single beam cuts through the night.
In the distance, the lights of a car peek over the hill. It swerves, and its headlights flicker.
“Fucking kids,” I breathe under my breath.
For the last several months, a group of human teens have made the trip down the road to park at The Point—a bluff overlooking the town. A situation Cole and I will have to remedy much sooner than later because of the rogue stray.
I slow at the private entrance to my property, then stop.
The twin headlights continue to blink on the winding road.
“Fuck.”
Cole will bitch if I don’t do something about them.
In the twilight of the early evening, I pull out and set a course to intercept the teens.
Chapter Three
Sadie Reed
“SIGNAL LOST.” The electronic voice grates on my last nerve. Well, along with the fact the asshat-of-an-
attorney bailed on me.
“What the hell?”
I rip the phone free of the docking station.
“Are you freakin’ kidding me? How the hell are there no bars?”
A quick push of the button on the side of the device starts a reboot.
Come on. Come on. You piece of shit.”
The phone vibrates, and the logo flashes across the screen.
A horn blares in my ears.
Looking up, a single headlight shines in my eyes. The phone slips out of my grasp and tumbles to the floorboard under my feet.
“Fuck.” I swerve to miss the oncoming light and end up in a ditch.
I slam the car in park, leaving the engine running.
Eyes closed, I press the back of my head against the seat and will the pounding of my heart to recede.
A rap on the window makes me jump.
My eyes fly open.
“Hey.” A guy stoops next to the car. “You in there.” He motions for me to roll down the window.
I shake my head. “Uhm . . . I’m okay.” Alone, on a deserted road in the dark, with a stranger isn't exactly the place I want to be.
Flashes of a news headline roll through my head; tonight, at ten, a teen slain on a country road.
The thought makes my stomach churn, and an uneasiness washes over me.
Moonlight catches the contours of the leather-clad guy’s face. Light stubble lines his jaw, and his sun-tanned face has a natural glow.
He taps the window, again. “Roll it down.”
My hand hovers over the control panel. Fucking attorney.