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  AVA

  Kensington Cove

  Michelle L. De La Garza

  AVA (Book 2)

  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.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in print reviews.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is highly appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  DLG Publishing Partners

  San Antonio, TX 78217

  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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  Four months ago, Ava Johansson left Kensington Cove, and now, she’s come home. There’s only one problem—she still harbors a secret crush on Cole, her sister’s high school boyfriend. And now, he’s the deep-seated yearning she intends to ignore at any cost.

  Cole Cotter, a member of the Shoshone clan, isn’t looking for anything permanent. That is until sexy, sassy, and independent Ava Johansson returns to town all grownup.

  Enthralled by Ava’s alluring scent, Cole can’t get her out of his head. The irresistible long-legged blond is under his skin. She’s the itch he needs to scratch and then some. Now, he must convince her to give him a chance, which is easier said than done.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Cole Cotter

  THE BAR & GRILL, generic and off-beat, reeks of lycans.

  Brown carpet, stained with food and drinks, runs the length of the floor below the grooved counter. Sitting on a wooden stool, nursing the soda in hand—the ice now a distant memory, a deep-seated ache bites at my left shoulder.

  The overhead television flickers. Glancing up at the screen, I turn away, uninterested in the basketball game that’s now in overtime.

  On the wall behind the bar, a clock reads eleven-thirty.

  Thirty more minutes to go.

  Down in the pit, the lower section of the bar next to the live band, Tessa Johansson serves drinks for teen night. The table she’s at is full of lycans from the Kweo clan—my inner wolf can smell them.

  Some of the faces are familiar from school, some not so much, but one stands out, Chad Sawyer. And from the looks of things, he was drinking long before stepping foot in the Mesnikoff bar and grill, Alpha Prime.

  Alcohol and Chad are never a good combination in any setting because the guy can’t hold his liquor. But here at the bar, with a group of his brethren, well, he’s just a fight waiting to happen.

  Tessa looks up and locks gazes with me. A smile dances across her lips. She makes her way over to the bar and stands next to the counter.

  “Hey, Ethan”—she shouts over the bar—“Give me a house special for table seven with three sweet teas.”

  Behind the bar, my brother, Ethan, grabs three plastic glasses, scoops ice into them, and then add some freshly brewed tea. On contact, the amber-colored fluid cracks the frozen cubes.

  “What else you need?” He sets the drinks on a tray at the service runner, adds a basket of chips and salsa, then turns to Tessa.

  “That’s it. Unless you have something that’ll take care of stupidity. God. I don’t even know why Chad and his wanna be shadows come here.” She grabs the tray, then nudges me with an elbow. “Hey. You stickin’ around?”

  “Maybe.” I take the last swallow of my drink. “We’ll see. Why?”

  A grin dances across her face, and her brown eyes light up. “Because I have a surprise for you and Ethan.”

  My gaze rakes up and down the length of Tessa’s lean body. She’s poured into skin-tight jeans. An Alpha Prime T-shirt—advertising the bar’s fall specials—hugs the curves of her full breasts.

  “You ever think of wearing something else?” I place a forearm on the counter.

  “Why?” She balances one edge of the tray on her shoulder. “What’d ya have in mind?”

  “With those guys in the pit, and what you’re wearing, you’re just asking for attention. The kind you don’t want.”

  A few months back, during homecoming, me and Tessa dated, but together, we came to a mutual conclusion. Some people, namely me and Tessa, make better friends than a couple.

  “What are you, my father or brother now?” She rolls her eyes. “Besides, I make way more tips with what I have on.”

  “I’m not even touching that comment.” I scratch my head, then adjust the collar of my shirt. “I’m just saying.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I heard you.” She turns around and heads to the pit. “I better go before the natives get restless.”

  The sway of her hips move in contrast with the tray balanced on her palm and shoulder.

  “So, what’s going on with Tessa?” Ethan wipes the surface of the bar. He picks up the empty soft drink can, tosses it in a recycling bin, and then he hands me another.

  “Don’t know.” The sweat on the bottle coats my hand. “She said she had a surprise for us.”

  “Well, with Tessa, that could be almost anything.” Ethan, back to the door, restocks the bar.

  A wave of older humans funnel into the main eat-in area. Most of their scents offer a familiarity about them, but one stands out among them, Jeb Snyder.

  I focus my attention on Jeb and the rest of his group. “Seems like a third of the town came out tonight.”

  Stretching, I work the kinks out in my shoulders from a hard day’s work at the construction grounds where I work after school.

  “Yeah.” Ethan shrugs, refills a beer for a patron midway down the bar, and then restocks glasses. “They’re here either for the band or the game.” He points at the television overhead.

  “Or converging to discuss the recent mutilations.” Cole thumbs over his shoulder, motioning toward the ranchers.

  “Well, that’s just great.” Ethan smacks the counter with a fist. “Last I hea
rd, they had picked a few days next week to canvas the killing grid which will make it harder to track the rogue undetected.”

  “Killing grid?”

  “Yeah. Jeb and some other humans marked the locations of the mutilations on a map, and then connected them, forming a sector to search.”

  “Damn. Guess Jeb and the other ranchers picked today to meet up.”

  “Yeah. That's because they found another mutilated calf.”

  “Where?”

  “About ten miles south of Jeb's property line, next to the Martinez Land & Cattle ranch.”

  “That's close, too close to The Point.” I draw in a deep breath, then sigh. “The shit-for-brain-jocks hanging out there make the perfect targets."

  “Yeah. Especially if the rogue seeks to grow a following.”

  “You know what that means, right?”

  “Yep. No more early morning runs.” Ethan turns to face a couple approaching the bar. “What can I get for you?”

  “Two house draft root beers and an onion loaf.” John Tobin, wearing jeans, a button-down shirt, and boots, leans on the counter. “Hey, Cole. Saw the work on the Morgan place today. Those cabinets, man, they’re looking damn good.” He hands a twenty to Ethan.

  “Ketchup and ranch on the side.” Stacy Ruiz, short and compact in stature, slides onto a barstool. “And some salt.” Her long dress covers the crisscross sandals on her feet.

  “Thanks. Should have the interior ready for electrical hookup in about a week.” Twisting the top of the soda bottle incites a few hisses, then a burp of air. “You still helping your dad with wiring?”

  The aftermath of carnal lust swirls around the happy high school sweethearts.

  At least someone's having sex.

  “Yeah, but not with the Sumy Electric Company.” John takes a seat next to Stacy.

  “Why’s that?” Do I really want to know?

  “The owner, Pete Sumy, he’s a real asshole.” John wraps an arm around Stacy’s shoulder. “Excuse the French, darlin’.”

  “That’s not French.” Stacy swivels the stool from side to side. “He doesn’t pay the workers’ wages and does half-ass work, or so my father says.”

  “Heard the crew talking this morning. They could use another set of hands if you two are looking for something else.”

  “Yeah. That’d be cool.”

  Stacy slides off the stool, knocking John off balance.

  “Jasmine.” Arm overhead, waving, Stacy covers ground at a fast pace. She bounces down the stairs, and then slides into a booth down in the pit.

  Jasmine Martinez, another Alpha Prime waitress, wipes the tabletop. The two girls sit, heads pressed together in gossip.

  “Want a tray?” Ethan sets the food on the counter along with the sauces and drinks, then hands John some change.

  “Nah. I can manage.” John pockets the cash and loose change. “Number still the same?” He directs the question at me.

  “Yeah. Have your dad call tomorrow. He can work out the details with the foreman, Tom Ward.”

  “Is that who took over after your dad—” John casts his gaze to the floor, and a nervous wave of energy changes his scent.

  “Yeah.” It’s been six months since Chandler Cotter, my father passed—he was the first lupine to succumb to a mutated strain of the virus killing lycans. His death still remains a mystery.

  “Thanks.” John offers a hand. “I better go. Stacy’s waiting.” He motions to the pit.

  Out of reflex, I reciprocate with a firm shake, sealing the deal for the impromptu job offer, which I know Tom will honor. Having another skilled set of hands will come in handy and make things move smoother, as well as faster.

  “See ya, Ethan.” Arms full, and a smile from ear to ear, John heads into the pit.

  Off to the left, Tessa pulls a tall, young woman, well, taller than Tessa’s five-foot, three-inch frame, into the hallway next to the entrance to the bathrooms.

  She’s up to something, but then again, that girl’s always in the middle of drama.

  Tessa motions for the woman to stay put, then dashes off into the kitchen.

  My inner wolf smells something's afoot, and I call on the eyes of my inner beast, which sharpens my field of vision.

  Light blond hair, pulled haphazardly into a ponytail, cascades to the middle of the woman’s back. She’s wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt, sweats, and gray sneakers. There’s a logo on the blouse. But with the way she’s standing, I can only see a fraction of it and can’t make out what it says. However, I get an eyeful of her tall and lean body.

  Standing six-foot, five inches, and towering over most of the residents of Kensington Cove at seventeen, spotting a female with height always draws the attention of my inner beast. Well, that and her athletic form coupled with sure, confident movements.

  Shouts, followed by a thunderous boom, reverberates from the middle of the pit.

  “What the fuck?” Ethan heads for the end of the counter, but Isiah Mesnikoff, the owner of the bar & grill—the Alpha of the Black Foot clan—and his son, Eli, intercepts him.

  “Stay there, whelp. And keep a low profile. You and your brother.” Isiah plants a hand against Ethan's chest, slowing his forward momentum. “You too”—he shoots a glance at his son, Eli—“Understand?”

  “Yeah." Ethan's shoulders slump, and he hangs back next to the counter with Eli.

  Spinning around on the stool, I take in the evening’s entertainment.

  Two teen guys, lycans sitting at the table where Chad was earlier, exchange blows.

  Bet it has something to do with Tessa or Jasmine, even though humans are off limits.

  A solid right by one, leads to an elbow in the face by the other.

  In the commotion, the grappling lycans flip headfirst over a table behind them, sending a pitcher of beer flying. The adult lupines, part of the Black Foot clan rise.

  “Well, that’s not good.” Ethan grabs a rag and a bucket.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Hand pressed to the middle of his chest, I shove him back. “Isiah said to stay put, so you will stay put. Got it?”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” He drops the bucket and slides it under the bar.

  Jasmine, tray in hand, tumbles to the floor. A yelp escapes her lips.

  Stacy and John help her up, and the three of them make their way to the bar.

  Isiah, a no-nonsense alpha who doesn't take shit from anyone—and one of his bouncers, Scott Leon—approach the disputing patrons and drag them outside by the scruff of their collars like a pack of rabid dogs.

  Swiveling around, drink in hand, the cool fluid coats my dry mouth. “Well, that was short lived.”

  “Two more Kweo clan members who can’t hold their liquor.” Ethan wipes the counter, scraping dried cheese from the surface. “It seems their numbers are on the rise along with a heaping side of ignorance.”

  “What are Chad and his pack doing here?” My attention zooms in on the table Jeb and the other farmers occupy. “Why are Kweo members drinking at Alpha Prime? I thought they only frequented Lanka’s bar, Howl at the Moon, in the Kweo region of town.”

  “Well, you haven’t been here for a while. A couple of months ago, yeah, that would’ve been the case.” Ethan leans over the bar. “But since Sadie and I got together, the Kweo have become a regular fixture here. Seems they like keeping tabs on me.”

  “Are they keeping tabs, or are they looking for an opportunity to even a score?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s no secret the Kweo didn’t like the way their brethrens’ deaths were handled at the Novak ranch.” Jeb says something about his shotgun and watch cycles, but between the two conversations, and the commotion, the human’s words remain out of reach. “And they damn sure have made it clear they don’t recognize the union between you and Sadie. They think she should be turned over to their clan. Well, all the clans and covens feel that way.”

  “Well, they can think whatever the hell they want
,” says Ethan with a low, throaty growl. “But Sadie’s mine. And I’ll take anyone out who thinks otherwise.”

  “So will I, little brother.” My gaze meets Ethan’s. “Because Sadie is Shoshone. She’s one of us now.”

  A high-pitched voice cuts through the noise of the room. It has a familiar ring to it. The wolf in me scans the area. Down the hall, leading toward the bathrooms, my beast spots Tessa, the blonde, and Chad Sawyer—not a good combination in any scenario.

  Anger stirs. Sliding off the stool, I make my way over to the hall.

  Two teen Kweo members, both lycans, step out in front of me.

  “There’s nothing to see here.” One of the guys twiddles a finger. “Turn around.”

  “Get the fuck out of the way.” A growl rips loose. Looking past the lycans, I keep a watchful eye on Tessa and her friend.

  Protect. My wolf stands at attention, ears alert to sound.

  “Come on, Chad. Stop it.” Tessa’s voice quivers. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

  Pushing past the first guy, I come eye to eye with the second, who smirks.

  “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.” Chad brings a flask to his lips and takes three long swigs. “Now. Which one of you should I fuck first tonight?”

  “Move.” I shove the second lycan, who reeks of alcohol, and he stumbles, staggers into the wall, regains his footing, and then he takes a swing.

  “You can’t be that thick-headed, can you?” Ducking and arms raised, I deflect the oncoming blow, then jab with a right.

  My closed fist makes solid contact with the man’s jaw, producing a cracking sound.

  Behind me, Ethan and Eli grapple with the other lycan.

  “Fuck,” I say, under my breath.

  Isiah told me and Ethan to keep a low profile. And this is anything but. He shakes his head.