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Charlene Cheswick was excited about moving to Oyster Bay, located on the Oregon coast. She couldn t wait to leave Portland, Oregon, and move to where it was quieter, had less crime, and she could listen to the soothing waves crashing on the beach.

Her new home overlooked the bay and the Pacific Ocean.

Yet it was forested too, wilder for a wolf to explore.

After a year filled with so many losses, Charlene was ready for a fresh start.

With the sun peeking through fluffy white clouds on the warm summer day, she drove to the nearest mini-mart service station to fill her tank with gas and grab a slice of pizza so she didn t have to make a mess in the kitchen on the last night she would be there.

As soon as she filled her tank, she headed inside to get her slice when she saw a man in a gray suit and another one in a black suit speaking with a third man backed up against a rack of chips.

Immediately, she figured the suited men were police detectives and the man in the ragged jeans and rumpled shirt was someone in trouble.

The jeans-clad man handed over a package to the gray-suited man and he pocketed whatever it was.

Having been a former homicide detective herself, Charlene thought the whole scenario seemed wrong.

The guy wearing the jeans glanced at her, his eyes widening.

Before she could make herself scarce, both suited men cast a look over their shoulders at her.

She continued on her way to the fast-food restaurant to get her pizza and leave.

If she d had a badge, she would have faced the suited men down, but she didn t want to have any issues with them when she was just a civilian.

The jeans guy hurried out of the store, but the suited men headed into the restaurant.

She suspected they meant to try to intimidate her because of what she had seen, though she wasn t sure what that was.

Taking a bribe? Taking some drugs? Something illegal, she was sure.

She ordered a slice of pepperoni pizza to go and paid for it. While she waited for the guy to cut her a slice and give it to her, the two suited men came up behind her. They stood way too close to her, antagonizing her.

Do I know you? the gray-suited man asked her, his voice dark with threat, his light-brown hair cut short, his eyes a glacial blue.

The other suited man was a little taller and blonder, his eyes green, his build a little heavy. She noticed things like that, having been in the business she d been in.

I m a homicide detective out of Destin, Florida, here on vacation, so I doubt it.

And you are? She lied about still being a homicide detective because she assumed that would keep him from harassing her.

She didn t give her name either. She didn t need to unless he asked for ID.

Her driver s license still listed the Destin address because she had only been renting the home in Portland and Oregon wasn t a permanent residence for her—yet.

I m DEA Special Agent Pete Cohen. Sorry, you just looked like a girl I d dated.

Nope. She knew that was a total fabrication. She got her pizza and said, Have a great night. Then she hurried out of there.

She didn t have to look back to know they were watching her.

She went to her car and was sure that they would make a note of it having a Florida license plate.

Maybe even run her plate to see just who she was.

All she needed was to get caught up in some crooked cops business when she was about to leave for her dream home.

Not that she wouldn t love to take the bastards down.

She was only about ten minutes from there, on the way home, when a police car flashed its lights at her. Now what? She hadn t been speeding, she d turned her signal on whenever she was making a turn, she had stopped at all the signals… Being stopped didn t make any sense.

Anxious and angry, she parked the car on the shoulder, waiting for the officer to speak to her. He took a damn long time before he walked from his car to hers. Ass.

She got a look at his dark-brown hair, dark-brown eyes, and crooked nose that looked like it had been broken at least once. She smelled his cologne, his arrogant scent, and saw his overconfident swagger.

Let me see your ID, the officer said.

She handed it to him. What did I do wrong?

You pulled out at a red light, making a right turn, but didn t fully stop.

I did. I always do. She knew not to argue with a cop, but the DEA agents in the convenience store had set her on edge.

Let me see your badge, he said to Charlene.

Badge? Her lips parted in surprise. How did he know she d had a badge? Did Agent Cohen call the police to hassle her? I m on vacation here. I didn t bring it with me.

Destin, Florida, the officer said.

Where s your badge? Where s your ID? Do you have a business card? How do I know you re a real cop? She figured it was time to rattle him a little, even though he had a patrol car so she knew he was a cop.

He handed her his card with his name—Lawrence Baker. He was a police officer with the Portland Police Bureau. I ll just write you a warning this time but watch yourself the next time you pull up to a red signal or stop sign. He handed her a warning slip.

Thanks. She was furious. The officer had no business stopping her, and she highly suspected, since he knew she d had a badge, that Agent Pete Cohen had been the one to sic the officer on her. She was so glad she was leaving Portland soon.

When she arrived at the house, she was still irritated, but she enjoyed her pizza and a glass of red wine before she got ready for bed. She was excited about settling into her house in Oyster Bay tomorrow and eager to manage the two homes she had turned into rentals on the coast.

She—and her renters—could enjoy the beaches, hiking trails, and forested parks.

Deep down, she had always felt connected to her grandfather, who had shared his love of nature with her while on walks on the Oregon beaches, or through the woods, when she was a young girl.

She had loved his tales of times past when her family had lived in these parts—of her mom getting lost as a wolf pup in the woods, of her grandmother chasing off a black bear, of collecting all kinds of different berries and making jellies with them.

Returning to her family s roots, a place she d left as a child but had never truly left behind, had always been a dream of hers.

Besides, living in a home on the West Coast meant she could run out her wolf door, disappear into the woods, and explore to her heart s content.

Hmm, maybe some of the red wolves who were bachelors would want to rent her places for a stay there.

Maybe she would even fall for one of them. That could be a real boon.

She couldn t wait.

***

Red wolf DEA Special Agent Ethan Masterson spoke with Ferret, his local drug informant.

He was usually reliable, and Ethan liked him.

Ethan figured Ferret could do some good things with his life if he just had the right encouragement and stayed off the drugs.

Ethan had even aided Ferret s mother and sister when they d had health issues while Ethan had been trying to help Ferret get his act together.

Ferret had lived in the Portland area all his life and had been in and out of treatment centers for drug abuse, locked up in jail several times, but he knew most everyone involved in the drug trade.

Ethan had managed to accomplish several drug busts with the information Ferret had fed him.

So he d truly been invaluable to Ethan s missions and Ethan would help him get his life straight however he could.

After tonight though, Ethan was retiring, at least on the books.

He d already put in his thirty years, and he was ready to retire, yet his boss, Barney Grainger, had a solo deep undercover mission for Ethan to take and he was already set up to move into the new home the agency was providing for him in Oyster Bay.

He just had this one last job in Portland tonight, and he was looking forward to making a big bust and taking down two of the men who had been involved in killing his parents a year ago.

Everyone on the team was eager to move into the drug house and take the perps down.

At Ethan s command, they busted through the front door and headed through the two-story house.

Ethan at once smelled the scent of a red wolf—female type—and he was immediately alarmed.

If she was involved in all this, he couldn t arrest her because she was a wolf.

His own wolf pack would have to deal with her.

He smelled other scents: male, female, all human.

What he didn t smell? Any sign of drugs.

Or scents of Kroner, Oakley, Thor, or Benny or any of the other guys that Ethan was after.

His team always kidded him that they didn t need to take drug-sniffing dogs on these cases because he could find the drugs no matter where they were hidden.

With a sinking suspicion they had the wrong house, he moved up the stairs without backup to confront the she-wolf before his men got involved.

He immediately heard water running in a bathroom.

New age music was playing loudly over the sound of the shower, which could be a ruse.

He wasn t sure what he was going to do with the she-wolf, but he had to come up with a plan of action quickly.

Clear! Clear! his team members were calling out as they searched the rooms downstairs.