Capturing Carolina Read online

  Mountain Wolf Pack 2

  Capturing Carolina

  Carolina Tallen spins her car off the side of the road in a torrential rainstorm. Her luck, however, takes a turn for the better when two handsome cowboys give her a ride back to their ranch. With the roads rained out, she has no option except to stay until the storm passes, even if that takes several days and nights. Oh, darn.

  Werewolf brothers, Jesse and Charlie Martin, know their mate when they sniff her. They think they have it made until an unknown attacker begins tormenting her, vowing to make her pay for the sins of the pack.

  Carolina finds out that fitting a city girl into the country lifestyle isn’t as hard as staying away from an unknown attacker. After terrorizing her, her attacker is finally ready to take his final revenge. Can Charlie and Jesse save her? Just as they believe she’s safe, the terror begins again.

  Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves, Western/Cowboys

  Length: 53,885 words

  CAPTURING CAROLINA

  Mountain Wolf Pack 2

  Jane Jamison

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  CAPTURING CAROLINA

  Copyright © 2014 by Jane Jamison

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-289-6

  First E-book Publication: February 2014

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Capturing Carolina by Jane Jamison from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Jane Jamison’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Jamison’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  Dear Readers,

  Nashville Nights, the first book of the Mountain Wolf Pack series, resulted from a trip to Nashville, Tennessee. I fell in love with the city as well as the surrounding hillside. The people are fantastic and the music is amazing. By writing Nashville Nights and then this book, Capturing Carolina, I hope to give you a little taste of the beauty and excitement in one of my favorite towns. Please note, however, that as far as I know, there are no werewolves or other supernatural beings in Nashville. Darn.

  Thanks for reading,

  Jane Jamison

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  CAPTURING CAROLINA

  Mountain Wolf Pack 2

  JANE JAMISON

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  “Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

  Carolina Tallen shoved the car door open and spilled out into the mud. She landed in the muck on her hands and feet, but at least she didn’t end up face-first with a bunch of it in her mouth. Pushing to a standing, albeit wobbly, position, she shook her hands, flinging mud everywhere, including onto the rest of her clothes. The rain pounded against her, which didn’t make her feel any better, but, luckily enough, it was hard enough to wash away almost all of the mud.

  “Damn it!” She slammed the door closed, then swung her purse over her shoulder and glared at her car. Spinning off the road had scared the hell out of her, and although she’d love to blame it on the rain, she knew her inattention put a large part of the blame on her shoulders. Singing along with the radio was a bad habit, especially since she tended to get foot heavy while doing it. She hadn’t realized she’d been speeding until her car was already hydroplaning out of control. At least she’d ended up in the ditch away from the other side of the road. That other edge would’ve sent her plummeting several hundred feet down into the woods below. If she’d survived the fall, it could’ve been days, even weeks before someone spotted her car among the foliage.

  That feat of good luck, however, was quickly forgotten. Glancing up the slope of the narrow two-lane road then down the way she’d come didn’t help her mood much. Somehow she’d gotten turned around in the pouring rain and had lost her way. She was on her way to deliver paperwork to an agency client, but with her car in the ditch, she wasn’t going to make her appointment.

  I guess I shouldn’t have made that last turn.

  She wished she were back in Nashville, even if it meant slaving away at her desk doing menial work as Walter K. Witward’s assistant. Most of the time she didn’t mind the job—after all, it paid a decent wage—but there were other days when she had to wonder if he’d ever let her move up the ranks. Did he suspect her real ambition? To start her own agency? He’d given other assistants their chance, but so far she hadn’t gotten the opportunity to manage a squirrel, much less one of the many singer-songwriters signed with the talent company. At twenty-four, she figured she still had time, but not much. Music was a young person’s business, even on the management side.

  Having Rae Barnes, Wyatt Montgomery, and Stone Garrett as her friends hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped, although they’d put in a good word about her to Witward. As great singer-songwriters who were up and coming in the music industry, she’d thought she would’ve gotten at least s
ome of the credit of having “discovered” them. But Old Man Witward had forgotten all about the fact that she’d sent him to The Dive, the Nashville bar-slash-listening room where he’d heard them perform.

  Muttering a few more curse words, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and checked for reception. Rae was her best friend, but due to Rae’s ever-growing performance schedule, she saw less and less of her. That, however, couldn’t break the close-knit bond they’d formed as roommates.

  Reception in the hills surrounding Nashville could get spotty every so often. During a hard rain like the one that had transformed her from looking like a hot professional into a drenched nobody, getting any bars was like hunting a jackrabbit down his rabbit hole. You could look, but you had zero chance of finding it.

  Then she remembered. Rae and her men were out of town again, taking their country show on the road. It wouldn’t have mattered if she could’ve called them. And phoning the client? That wasn’t going to happen, either. Witward would be ticked off big time.

  “I am so fucked.”

  Water poured down her face and soaked her clothes. The rain made her blouse transparent, and the slacks she’d purchased only a week earlier hung from her curvy body like a soggy towel. To add injury to insult, her favorite suede boots were covered in mud, ruined beyond repair.

  She had no choice. She’d have to hoof it back to civilization.

  Why does anyone like living in the hills anyway?

  Not her. She preferred the city with its myriad of restaurants and bars to swatting bugs and listening to the tree frogs belch out their nasty sounds. And yet, a lot of people, especially around Nashville, loved the mountains and the so-called “easy life.”

  She put her head down and trudged up the hill. Going downhill would make the trek easier, but she knew for certain what lay back that way. That was a whole lot of nothing for at least five miles. Instead, as was her usual way, she chose to go toward the unknown. Not knowing what was up ahead would make the walk bearable and perhaps interesting, if not easy.

  She’d just made it to the rise in the road when it hit her. Hadn’t Rae told her that the ranch she and the men liked to visit was out here somewhere? In fact, Rae had told her that if she kept on going past the turn toward the small town of Shady Creek—a turn she’d apparently missed—she’d end up very close to the ranch.

  What was the name of it again? Something to do with forks. Oh, yeah. Two Forks. That’s it.

  Not that she thought she’d see a sign directing her to the ranch. That would be asking too much with the way her luck was running.

  Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. I’ll end up somewhere. Eventually.

  An hour later, doubt clouded her theory. Her feet hurt, and the wind had picked up, turning a fall rain into piercing cold pellets of torture. The weather was unpredictable in Tennessee and seemed to have gotten even more unpredictable in recent years. Was it Climate Change? Or Mother Nature having some fun?

  She put her head down and kept going. What other choice did she have?

  She trudged on, trying to remember the name of the new country song she’d been listening to when she’d spun off the road. The singer was another one of Witward’s discoveries, which meant more than likely that one of his associates had put him onto the girl.

  The sounds of men’s voices had her jerking her head up. Squinting, she could make out the outline of two men standing next to a red F-150 pickup. The torrential rain was like a blanket that obscured her vision, but the closer she got to them, the better they looked.

  Hell, even Ted Bundy might look passable in this rain as long as he had a ride back to civilization. Be careful. Don’t go hopping into any old pickup.

  The two were so engrossed in their argument that she didn’t think they noticed her. She planned to change that.

  Straightening up even though she had to work to march up the next slope of the hill, she wiped the stringy wet hair away from her face and put on a smile.

  “Damn it, Charlie. You’re fucking out of your ever-loving mind.”

  Charlie, huh? It was the kind of simple, honest-sounding name she liked.

  She took him in, from the curve of his cowboy hat to the heels of his cowboy boots. His yellow rain slicker was pressed against his body by the wind and rain, and even with that shapeless thing on she could tell that his body was nothing short of perfect. Hard, filled with muscles, and packed with power. Just the way she liked her men.

  “The hell I am. I can’t help it if you forgot to do it. What was I supposed to do? Double-check you like you’re some kind of kid?”

  The other man, maybe Charlie’s brother by the similarities in their strong square jaws, chiseled faces, and compact body types, snarled.

  Snarled? Who snarls?

  Still, she wouldn’t turn down an animalistic kind of guy. If he’d snarl, who knew what kind of a wild thing he’d do in bed?

  I’ve gone without a man for far too long. At least that’s what Rae says. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time to put a little pleasure before business.

  She had no clue what their argument was about, and she didn’t care. Why they weren’t sitting in their truck to quarrel was another question. Another one she didn’t care to have answered. They both had slickers on and coverings over their cowboy hats to keep them dry, so they’d obviously been prepared for the downpour. That was more than she could say.

  “Hey, guys.” She lifted her hand as they pivoted toward her. “Could you lend me a hand?”

  If they hadn’t shifted to look straight at her, she might’ve thought they hadn’t heard her. Then, after glancing at each other, they started toward her.

  Mmm, mmm, good. Lord, have mercy.

  They were two specimens of manhood and headed right at her like heat-seeking missiles. Thing was, she was one target that wouldn’t mind getting hit in her bull’s-eye.

  She let her smile grow and tried to look better than she knew she did. Her present condition notwithstanding, she had to work with what she had. She wiped under her eyes and came away with black smudges on her fingers.

  So much for being waterproof mascara. Great. Just great. I want my money back, Max Factor.

  “Can we help you, miss?”

  “Yes, you can. My car skidded off the road about a mile back. Do you think you could get me, um, it out of the mud?” She glanced at their truck and was sure it could handle her little Honda with ease. “Maybe you could give it a push? Or a pull?”

  They strode up to her, then stopped about three feet away. Charlie’s hazel eyes latched onto hers. “Are you talking about down the road where there’s a big rock overlooking the edge?”

  Now that he’d mentioned it, she remembered a huge bolder on the dangerous side. Not that it would’ve stopped her car from sliding over. The way her luck was going, it would’ve come loose and followed her car down to land on the roof and squash her like a bug. “Yeah. That’s the spot.”

  The other man shook his head. “A push won’t do you any good and pulling you out with our pickup won’t work. You’re going to need a tow truck. Or a hell of a lot of strong-ass men.”

  Aw, hell. There went plan A.

  “Are you sure? Maybe you could try it before you give up on the idea.” She tugged on her blouse. When their gazes slid lower, she remembered that the rain had transformed her blouse into a sheer, hide-nothing film of material. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her nipples that had come to life to point straight at them.

  Had the air around them thickened? The rain that had felt so cold minutes before seemed almost steamy now.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” The shorter one—although standing over six feet tall could hardly be called short—stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Jesse Martin, and this is my brother, Charlie.”

  She took his hand, started to speak, then forgot her own name. For a moment, she thought she must’ve gotten struck with lightning when the stinging sizzle danced up her arm. But after quick inspection, she couldn�
��t see anything. No smoke. No burn marks.

  She pushed the silly idea away. “I’m Carolina Tallen. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Jesse held her hand a little longer than was normal for a handshake. Not that she minded. Then, once he’d let go and Charlie took her hand—the strange sizzle zipped through her a second time—he put his other hand on top of theirs and let his handshake linger, too. Again, their gazes found their way to her chest. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand free, then crossed her arms again, aware that she could do nothing about the way her wet clothes clung to the rest of her body. At least her slacks weren’t see-through.

  “We can call someone about your car.” Charlie’s attention finally made it back to her face. “That’s the only way you’re going to get it out.”

  She frowned, having almost forgotten about her car. “Really? Can you get reception out here? I can’t.” She pulled out her phone to check again and found zero bars. “Nope. Still nothing.”

  “No. I don’t mean with a cell phone. We have a landline back at the ranch.”

  “Oh, good. Could I hitch a ride with you there? Do you mind?”

  Charlie shook his head as his gaze took in the length of her. She cringed, again thinking how horrible she must look.

  “I promise I’m not a homicidal maniac escapee from the mental hospital.” Was there a mental facility nearby?

  Jesse laughed, short and oh-so-sexy. “Isn’t that our line?”

  “Hey, don’t be sexist. Homicidal maniac escapees from mental hospitals can be women, too, you know.”