Joy to the Wolves Read online

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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2020 by Terry Spear

  Cover and internal design © 2020 by Sourcebooks

  Cover art by Craig White

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Excerpt from The Wolf Wore Plaid

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To Darla Taylor, who shares my love of gardening and birds and butterflies and Carolina anoles! Thanks for loving my stories and helping to catch the errors of my ways.

  Prologue

  Brooke Cerise couldn’t believe it. She swore it was a family conspiracy!

  She’d loved her parents with all her heart, but when they’d died in a head-on collision with a driver who was texting his girlfriend, they’d left a stipulation in the will that Brooke couldn’t sell their antique and gift shop in Phoenix, Arizona, for three whole years. She was required to maintain it like they had, in the hopes that she’d carry on with the business long after that.

  For three years, she’d kept the shop profitable so that when she could sell it, it would go for a decent price. She’d worked in her parents’ shop forever before that, and she had a knack for knowing which items were real antiques and which were shams. Still, during all that time, she couldn’t wait for the three years to end so she could get rid of the shop and do something else. Anything else. She had been too busy to think of what else she might do, but she couldn’t have been happier when the time had come to sell. At least with all her hard work, she had made a good profit off the sale of the shop and its contents.

  Then a couple of weeks after that, her beloved great-aunt, who owned an antique and gift shop in Portland, Oregon, died of a massive heart attack and left a similar stipulation in her will. For three whole years, Brooke had to run the shop herself to truly realize the value of the business. Brooke felt her parents and great-aunt had been in a conspiracy to make sure she would continue to do their bidding and finally realize that their dream to run a shop like this was her dream too.

  She was devastated that she had lost her last living relative, but she couldn’t believe she would have to manage Great-Aunt Ivy’s antique shop now. However, since it had been her great-aunt’s dying wish, Brooke would honor it with the same enthusiasm as she had her parents’ request for their shop.

  Her house sold, Brooke was finally leaving Phoenix for good and settling in Portland, where over the previous years, she had spent her summers helping her great-aunt manage her shop.

  The only thing that made this will different from her parents’ will was a cryptic note that had been attached: Find a list of treasures, and you’ll find your own destiny. Her great-aunt had known how much Brooke loved treasure hunts, and Brooke cherished her beloved great-aunt for doing that for her one last time.

  Before Brooke left Phoenix, she received an invitation to attend the estate sale of Randall Gulliver. She didn’t need to buy anything more to sell in the shop. She knew her great-aunt’s Victorian house-turned-shop was stacked to the gills. But Gulliver had come from money and was said to have collected valuable antiques, jewelry, sculptures, and paintings from around the world, and Brooke was curious why she would get a special invitation.

  She got there before the auction started, and it didn’t take her long to zero in on three bronze garden sculptures she wanted to buy for the courtyard that connected her great-aunt’s Victorian home to the shop. Despite not planning to
buy anything. But this was different. The wolf sculptures would be her keepsakes, and she’d take them with her once she sold the shop and moved somewhere else.

  One was a wolf leaning up against a light pole, and she could picture decorating it for all seasons. Another was of a wolf drinking out of a fountain, a bird perched above it, watching him. The last was a statue of a couple of wolves sitting on a park bench. She knew Gulliver wasn’t a wolf, though she’d heard he was called a ruthless wolf in his business dealings as a land developer. She was truly one, and she wanted the sculptures if the price was right. These were unique and nothing like anything she’d seen before.

  She saw a black-haired woman, about thirty, dressed in high heels that made Brooke’s arches ache just seeing them, skinny black jeans, and a sparkly black-and-silver sweater top that made her look like she was going to a New Year’s Eve party. What had caught Brooke’s attention more than anything was the woman giving an Asian gentleman grief before the auction began. Brooke recognized Mr. Lee from news photos she’d seen of him and Mr. Gulliver. Mr. Lee had been Gulliver’s assistant in all things. He was about sixty, with graying temples, dark eyes, and an almost imperceptible smile as he saw Brooke watching the woman berating him. Then the woman stormed off, and Brooke continued to look over the three wolf sculptures.

  Mr. Lee joined her, and she was surprised to smell that he was also a wolf. A gray wolf. She was a red wolf.

  “Tibetan wolf,” he offered. “I’m Mr. Lee, and you are Brooke Cerise. You’re the daughter of the late Matt and Irene Cerise and the great-niece of the late Ivy Cerise. My heartfelt condolences for your losses. I knew your parents. Your mother located some Chinese porcelain for me to help fill in the pieces my sister owned and had lost. They were special serving dishes our parents had passed on to her, and she used them for all the holidays. You don’t know how much it meant to her to find some in the same pattern. Your parents gave me a more than reasonable price on them. I am pleased to reciprocate. I sent you the invitation, believing you might be interested in the wolf sculptures. I’m sure you have a greater appreciation for them than others who might wish to buy them.”

  “I’d keep them,” she quickly said.

  He inclined his head. “Offer me two fifty apiece, and they’re yours.”

  “But they’re in the brochure.” At nearly ten times the price, but she didn’t want to mention it if he was willing to give them to her for so much less. What if he changed his mind?

  “They should never have been placed in the brochure. They are not part of the estate but mine, so I can sell them for whatever price I see fit.”

  Her smile couldn’t have stretched any bigger as they shook on it. “It’s good seeing one of my kind here. I’ll mark them as sold. You can pay at the register. I also have five boxes of stuff stacked over there. Nothing of real importance to most anyone else, but they’re special to me, and since you still own an antique and gift shop, Ms. Cerise, you could probably easily make a little bit of money off the trinkets. They’re mostly antique, but not considered valuable to the big buyer. They’re yours for free.”

  “Special to you?” She frowned, not getting his meaning. This was Gulliver’s estate sale.

  “Yes. Now that I will no longer be working for Mr. Gulliver, I need to get rid of some of my stuff I’d had at the estate, so I figured I’d do it here at the auction. The money will go to me, rest assured.”

  “Thanks.” She was going to decline. The wolf statues were one thing. More boxes of junk? Brooke knew her aunt had plenty of those stacked in spare rooms in the shop.

  “I would take them if I were you. You might find something that is valuable to you. You never know about these things until you take the time to discover the truth. I met your great-aunt when she visited. Ms. Cerise was a marvel, but she—how do I say this?—was a free spirit. I fear she might have dealt with some criminal element.”

  Brooke frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s purchased things from all over the world for years, and those she dealt with… Well, she hadn’t been as careful as she used to be. I had learned your great-aunt had a Tibetan urn I might be interested in. I was in the vicinity on business and traveled to Portland to see the urn, and it was just the item I was looking for to give my sister. Ms. Cerise also showed me a couple of antique Chinese vases, but they wouldn’t have suited my sister’s decor. Ms. Cerise confided in me at the time that she’d made a mistake in dealing with some people. She wouldn’t say who for fear I could get in trouble. I was never to mention it to anyone, but since you may have inherited the trouble, I feel obligated to tell you. If anyone from Colombia contacts you to sell you pottery, don’t deal with them.”

  “My great-aunt received illegal merchandise from them?”

  “No. But since you’ve taken over the shop, they might try to deal with you next.”

  “Do you know the names of the people involved?”

  “No.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate you telling me so I know what to watch out for.” She couldn’t imagine her great-aunt buying stuff from disreputable people. “What will you do after this?”

  “Retire. My sister lives alone, and now that I’m no longer living at the estate here, I will move in with her and help her out.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be grateful. If you ever need anything from me, you know where I’ll be.” At least for the next three years. She handed him her business card.

  He accepted it and tucked it away.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, who was the woman who was so angry?” Brooke suspected it was one of Gulliver’s disgruntled heirs. There were four of them, and instead of being grateful they had all received huge settlements, they were squabbling about the proceeds.

  “Daisy Gulliver, Mr. Gulliver’s daughter. She believes she is owed more of the estate. You are lucky, in a way, that there were no other heirs, either for your parents’ or your great-aunt’s estates.”

  “Well, I always wished I’d had a brother or sister, or both, but I understand what you mean.” Brooke ran her hand over one of the wolf sculptures. “I will treasure these always.”

  “For us, that means for a very long time.” He handed her his business card, bowed his head to her, and then walked off to speak to a man at the register, who looked back at her and smiled.

  Now it was time to pay for her new purchases, hope Mr. Lee was right about her making some money on the items in the “junk” boxes, and drive to Portland and her new life. Unfortunately, her car was filled to the roof with all the last-minute stuff she had to pack, so the boxes—and the statues—would have to be shipped. Brooke couldn’t wait to have the wolves in her garden. They were the bright spot in all this.

  She just hoped Mr. Lee was wrong about her great-aunt dealing with bad sorts.

  * * *

  Before dawn at the Wilding Reindeer Ranch, located twenty minutes outside Portland, Oregon, Police Detective Josh Wilding was running as a red wolf with his brother, Maverick, who oversaw the reindeer ranch. They were glad to take a moment out of their busy day before they returned to the ranch house, shifted, dressed, and headed off to work.

  Once they were home and dressed, Maverick fixed them cups of coffee. “Our pack leaders say the late Ms. Cerise must have left her estate to her great-niece, Brooke, who might be settling in at her great-aunt’s Victorian house soon. Having another single she-wolf living in the area is always great news.”

  “Or she could be selling the place as soon as she can. She lives in Phoenix and might have no intention of moving here.” No way did Josh want to get involved with a she-wolf who wasn’t planning to stay in the territory.

  “One of us needs to get over there and welcome her as soon as she arrives, even if she plans to sell the place. Maybe one of us can try to change her mind about leaving if she’s of a mind to do so. And do it before the other bachelor males in the pac
k meet her.”

  “Why don’t you go see her?” Josh shook his head. “Antique shops are not my thing. Unless she has a break-in, I don’t see myself dropping in there anytime soon. We don’t even know if she’s coming here. She might just sell the place through a real estate agent.”

  He certainly wasn’t going to run over to the shop to bother the she-wolf. Wouldn’t their pack leaders have known if she was going to settle here?

  Since they hadn’t said anything to anyone, that probably meant it wasn’t happening.

  Chapter 1

  Two weeks later, Portland, Oregon

  “What more could go wrong today?” Brooke Cerise asked herself as “Jingle Bells” started playing on her radio, reminding her that it was time to rise. Except it wasn’t the right time! It was an hour later than she always got up. She’d planned to wake even earlier this morning because she had a Christmas open house at her shop today.

  At least her wolf statues had all arrived yesterday, and she couldn’t be happier with them greeting her in her courtyard every day. She’d decorated them in bows and Christmas lights to help showcase them. The boxes of trinkets from the Gulliver estate still hadn’t arrived. It could have taken some time to get everything boxed securely for shipment, and with the Christmas holiday package deliveries, the boxes must have been delayed. Brooke still hadn’t been able to find the list of treasures her great-aunt had mentioned in the note. She felt like just closing the shop with a sign on the door stating: In search of a treasure list that would fulfill my destiny. Be back when I find it!

  Brooke rushed to pull on her favorite green wool sweater and red-and-green-plaid wool skirt, leggings, and black suede boots. She was wearing a red lace bra and matching panties, making her feel Christmassy all the way to her bare skin—something her mother had always championed. Feel sexy just for yourself. She didn’t need a mate to dress up for.

  She was glad she’d taken a shower last night, or she’d be even later this morning. Hurrying to apply makeup, she wished she could just run as a wolf this morning and forget about the shop. She’d been meaning to check out Forest Park in Portland, which was only a few minutes away and one of the largest forested urban parks in America. After moving here, she’d been so busy getting everything ready for her opening that she really hadn’t had the time.