The Patient Wolf (Wicked Urban Fantasy #1) by Karen Hodges Miller Page B
Authors: Karen Hodges Miller
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less negative connotations, he explained to the old-timers who hadn’t seen the need for the change. If the pack was going to survive in the new world of cameras in every pocket, being careful not to be seen wasn’t good enough.
Someone, somewhere, would slip up and be caught on film. When that happened, his pack would be ready. Pack members were quietly in place throughout the three-county area he commanded. They were mayors, bank officials, lawyers, and police officers.
Hank Bertrand was the head of the family, and the head of the pack. He was in charge, and if he was right, Alexander had violated several pack laws—and there would be a price to pay for breaking the law.
They drove through Graceton, where the Strawberry Moon was located, just as it was getting dark. The quaint, Victorian-era tourist town offered covered bridges, artsy boutiques, and a variety of festivals throughout the year designed to attract tourists. A banner across Main Street announced the Pumpkin Festival, which took place every year in mid-October, would be held the following weekend.
As they walked into the restaurant Ana was greeted by Marianne Fletcher, a tiny woman of about sixty.
“Ana, I’m so happy to see you. I didn’t know this reservation was for you or I would have put you over by the windows.” She turned and snagged a waitress who was walking by. “Ashley, get a table for two ready in section four.”
“But all those tables are full, Mrs. Fletcher.”
“Bring another table. Set it up by the window. There is always a special place for Hank Bertrand’s granddaughter.”
Ana rolled her eyes and considered falling through the floor in embarrassment. She had taken great pains to distance herself from her family, just for reasons like this. She never wanted to stand out, but when your grandfather was Hank Bertrand…and apparently, from what Alexander had said earlier, he had also already noticed the inconvenience of dating Hank Bertrand’s granddaughter.
Jonathan had always enjoyed the attention. Until he realized the price he paid for getting those special seats at a restaurant, or that loan at the bank. It meant that everything he said and did was reported back to her grandfather. If he picked a fight, if he criticized her dress or the way she wore her hair, or—god forbid—if he criticized anything about Sophie, if he acted in any way that was considered against pack etiquette, Hank Bertrand heard about it. The problem was, not only didn’t Jonathan know pack etiquette, he didn’t know there was a pack. The one secret Ana had always kept from him was the most important part of her life.
Yes, Jonathan could be a bully, and he was a definitely a braggart and he had wanted to use her family connections to further his career. Eventually Ana probably would have seen that for herself. Maybe she would have accepted his faults and continued to go on loving Jonathan anyway, but under the watchful eyes of her grandfather’s myriad friends and connections, and with a secret so essential to her very being, their marriage had had no chance at all.
Alexander, however, didn’t seem to mind the extra fuss as two busboys busily brought in another table and squeezed it into position in front of the center window, where the view of the river was best. Ana was sure he was used to people arranging the best table for him because of his own identity as a public figure, but he didn’t seem to be bothered that this time she was the reason for the special attention.
“I had no idea I was taking such a celebrity to dinner,” he said with a smile as a few minutes later the waitress escorted them to a table next to the windows.
The view was beautiful. The back of the restaurant was all glass and they could see not only of the river in the distance, but the surrounding woods, the trees just beginning to be touched by autumn color.
“I mentioned the Fletchers are old friends of the family. Watch out, here comes Miss Marianne
Someone, somewhere, would slip up and be caught on film. When that happened, his pack would be ready. Pack members were quietly in place throughout the three-county area he commanded. They were mayors, bank officials, lawyers, and police officers.
Hank Bertrand was the head of the family, and the head of the pack. He was in charge, and if he was right, Alexander had violated several pack laws—and there would be a price to pay for breaking the law.
They drove through Graceton, where the Strawberry Moon was located, just as it was getting dark. The quaint, Victorian-era tourist town offered covered bridges, artsy boutiques, and a variety of festivals throughout the year designed to attract tourists. A banner across Main Street announced the Pumpkin Festival, which took place every year in mid-October, would be held the following weekend.
As they walked into the restaurant Ana was greeted by Marianne Fletcher, a tiny woman of about sixty.
“Ana, I’m so happy to see you. I didn’t know this reservation was for you or I would have put you over by the windows.” She turned and snagged a waitress who was walking by. “Ashley, get a table for two ready in section four.”
“But all those tables are full, Mrs. Fletcher.”
“Bring another table. Set it up by the window. There is always a special place for Hank Bertrand’s granddaughter.”
Ana rolled her eyes and considered falling through the floor in embarrassment. She had taken great pains to distance herself from her family, just for reasons like this. She never wanted to stand out, but when your grandfather was Hank Bertrand…and apparently, from what Alexander had said earlier, he had also already noticed the inconvenience of dating Hank Bertrand’s granddaughter.
Jonathan had always enjoyed the attention. Until he realized the price he paid for getting those special seats at a restaurant, or that loan at the bank. It meant that everything he said and did was reported back to her grandfather. If he picked a fight, if he criticized her dress or the way she wore her hair, or—god forbid—if he criticized anything about Sophie, if he acted in any way that was considered against pack etiquette, Hank Bertrand heard about it. The problem was, not only didn’t Jonathan know pack etiquette, he didn’t know there was a pack. The one secret Ana had always kept from him was the most important part of her life.
Yes, Jonathan could be a bully, and he was a definitely a braggart and he had wanted to use her family connections to further his career. Eventually Ana probably would have seen that for herself. Maybe she would have accepted his faults and continued to go on loving Jonathan anyway, but under the watchful eyes of her grandfather’s myriad friends and connections, and with a secret so essential to her very being, their marriage had had no chance at all.
Alexander, however, didn’t seem to mind the extra fuss as two busboys busily brought in another table and squeezed it into position in front of the center window, where the view of the river was best. Ana was sure he was used to people arranging the best table for him because of his own identity as a public figure, but he didn’t seem to be bothered that this time she was the reason for the special attention.
“I had no idea I was taking such a celebrity to dinner,” he said with a smile as a few minutes later the waitress escorted them to a table next to the windows.
The view was beautiful. The back of the restaurant was all glass and they could see not only of the river in the distance, but the surrounding woods, the trees just beginning to be touched by autumn color.
“I mentioned the Fletchers are old friends of the family. Watch out, here comes Miss Marianne
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