Nashville Nights [Mountain Wolf Pack 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Mountain Wolf Pack 1

  Nashville Nights

  Rae Barnes’s plans don’t include finding love. Instead, she’s breaking into the country business one song at a time. Once she wins Nashville’s New Talent contest and snags a recording contract, she’ll be set.

  Werewolves, Wyatt Montgomery and Stone Garrett, are a duo both on- and offstage, ready to make it big like no werewolves ever have, as country music stars. But when the luscious Rae first strums on her guitar, she sings her way into their hearts.

  Trying to save his sister, Wyatt borrows money from the local werewolf mob, but now he can’t pay it back. When the wolf mob finally demands repayment in either cash or his hide, Rae gives up her only memento from her beloved deceased grandmother. Will it be enough to save him? And if so, will she stay with Wyatt and Garrett once she sees them shift?

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

  Length: 59,751 words

  NASHVILLE NIGHTS

  Mountain Wolf Pack 1

  Jane Jamison

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  NASHVILLE NIGHTS

  Copyright © 2013 by Jane Jamison

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-128-8

  First E-book Publication: December 2013

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2013 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,

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

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  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  DEDICATION

  Welcome to Nashville Nights, y’all. After visiting the great city of Nashville, I just had to write a book about it. I’m hoping my readers will love the Mountain Wolf Pack series so much that I’ll have to visit Nashville many more times. For research, of course!

  Enjoy!

  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

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  NASHVILLE NIGHTS

  Mountain Wolf Pack 1

  JANE JAMISON

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  “Hand it over, man.”

  Wyatt Montgomery’s inner wolf followed its instinct, putting his back to the wall to face the three men forming a loose semicircle around him. “I don’t have it. Tell Jac he’s going to have to give me more time.”

  He’d played the fool when he’d allowed the young girl to entice him into the alley, but he’d always been a sucker for a pretty woman in trouble. She’d told him that her girlfriend was sick and hurling in the alley behind The Dive bar, and he’d had no reason not to believe her. God knew it had happened often enough. The real disappointment was that the werewolf part of him hadn’t picked up on the scent that would’ve told him she was lying. Maybe the four shots he’d downed in record time had numbed that part of him. The shit was that it no longer mattered. She’d done her part and was gone, leaving him in trouble and his fangs itching to come out.

  “Tell him yourself.” Charles, one of Jac Ribsom’s right-hand men, nodded toward the shadows on the left, and Jac, leader of the werewolf mob, stepped out of the shadows.

  “Leave it to you to make an entrance.”

  “I’m glad you noticed. So many people have no dramatic flair nowadays.” Jac’s upper lip curved into an attempt at a smile. He’d faded into shadows easily with his black shirt and slacks, thinning coal-black hair, dark skin, and beady black eyes. Many had underestimated Jac because of his frail frame, unaware that the man’s cruelty and evil nature more than made up for his lack of stature. Jac had risen in record time from the bottom of the ranks to the top when he’d killed Roco Guiade. He’d taken over the Nashville werewolf mob and made it his own.

  “Wyatt, buddy, it’s time to pay up.” Jac affected an exaggerated sigh, a man pushed beyond his limits. “I don’t like forcing the issue, but you’re late. I want my money.”

  “And you’ll get it, too.” Wyatt hated that he’d had to borrow anything from the likes of Jac, but he’d known better than to go to his own Sterling Pack. He had no doubt that they’d have given him the money if he’d needed it. But first they would’ve told him to change his sister, Sheila. That way there would’ve been no need to give him any money. Because of that, he hadn’t bothered asking them. She’d never go for it. Not then and not now. That had left him with the only option of getting the cash from Jac.

  If his pack had known that he’d taken money from the unscrupulous Jac and his Ribsom pack to gamble on the horses and raise even more money, they’d have ridden him hard, never letting him have a moment’s peace without one of them sticking their nose in his business.

  Wer
ewolves had a way with horses and could sense which horse was likely to win a race. It was almost a sure bet each time they put money down. But that kind of thing tended to get noticed, and the pack frowned on anything that might shine too bright a light on their existence. They’d had a hard enough time letting him pursue his music career, but forcing him to quit wouldn’t have done any good. He’d have left the pack if he’d had to.

  “I don’t think you understand. I want it now.”

  Jac’s henchmen closed in on him. They were all werewolves and mean as hell. He didn’t have a chance going against them alone. “Come on, man. Think about it. Which do you want more? Your money back with interest? Or a piece of my hide?”

  Jac rolled his eyes, reminding Wyatt of a young preteen girl. But he kept his mouth shut. Goading the goon wouldn’t help any.

  “I wouldn’t mind taking both.”

  “Give me more time and you’ll get your money. Taking it out of my hide will get you nothing but my flesh.”

  “Might still be worth it.” Jac chuckled, pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket, and popped it into his mouth. He let it hang out the side of his mouth without lighting up. “Damn it, Montgomery, you’re causing me stress and making me want to smoke again. I thought you were smarter than this. I know you won at the track. Didn’t you think my sources would let me know the kind of money you raked in? I know you have the dough. In fact, since you won more than you borrowed, you’ll throw in an extra ten grand just for me being such a nice guy.”

  “You’re right. I did win.” Now came the hard part. “But I don’t have a dime of it left.” The last part was a lie, but not by much. Certainly not enough to make a difference to Jac.

  Jac’s black eyes glittered and hardened. “So that’s the way this is going to go, huh?” He stepped to within a foot of him.

  Wyatt did his best not to step away. To show any weakness was just asking for a beat-down.

  “Shit. It’s true what I heard. You used that money on your sister? A damn human? Fuck, I understand about family loyalty and all, but that was a fucking stupid thing to do. She isn’t worth it.”

  Aw, shit. Why’d he have to go and say that?

  “Screw you, Jac.”

  Wyatt shifted, bringing out his claws then wrapping them around the frail man’s neck for only a few moments before the henchmen pulled him away, landing hard punches to his stomach. He doubled over but managed to stay on his feet. If he hadn’t, his inner wolf would’ve jumped to the surface and taken over. Doing that so close to The Dive wouldn’t work. There were too many humans nearby that might see them. The werewolves growled, wanting to do more, but holding back.

  Jac staggered back, then raised his hand, calling his men off. “Turn him loose.”

  The pain in Wyatt’s gut was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. His sister was worth everything he owned and anything he had to do. Even if it meant dealing with the likes of Jac. Charles grabbed his collar, and the other two werewolves pinned his arms behind his back.

  “You’re not using your head much these days, Montgomery. But I tell you what. I know you’ve entered The Dive’s contest, and I think you’ve got a good shot at winning. Once you do, you can hand over every cent of the $100,000 prize.”

  As a struggling country music singer, Wyatt had every intention of entering Nashville’s New Talent Contest. But a lot of other great musicians would do the same. His chance of winning the cash as well as a contract with True Blue Records, one of the biggest record labels in the business, was anything but a done deal.

  “And if I don’t win?” The animal inside him clawed to get out. He wanted to set it free, wanted to go claw-to-claw with them, but the rational side, the human side of him, warned against it. He closed his eyes long enough to regain control and push back his fangs and claws.

  Jac patted his cheek like a father patting his wayward son’s face. “Don’t you worry about that, buddy. I’ll make sure you win. Then, like I said, you hand over the money.” His smirk grew. “Along with a signed contract with me as your manager. Hell, since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll only take fifty percent commission for everything you do. See? It’s a win-win for both of us.”

  Giving Jac all the prize money was one thing. But to get tied to him indefinitely wasn’t going to happen. He might as well sign his life over to the devil himself. “Standard manager fee is fifteen percent.” Maybe twenty, but he wasn’t about to tell Jac that.

  “I’m no ordinary manager.” Jac tossed the unlit cigarette to the ground. “You know what? I’m starting to like this idea a whole lot. It’ll be fun to see you win. We might even get our photo in the paper.” He snickered. “Yeah, that’s the way it should go. Me. A manager for a soon-to-be famous singer.”

  “Leave it alone, Jac. I’ll get you your money one way or another. Don’t screw with the contest.”

  The next pat was more like a slap. “You know I can’t do that. I want my money back with a return on my investment, not to mention more money with every bestselling song you sing. Just sit back and relax, buddy. You’re going to be a big star.” His sneer-smile was back, brighter than ever. “And you’re all mine.”

  Wyatt had a lot of things he wanted to say, but he was smart enough to keep his trap shut. Now wasn’t the time to tell Jac that he had no intention of ever signing on the dotted line, trapping him with an unscrupulous manager. He’d rather bury his career first. Instead, he ground his teeth together and kept the curses from flying.

  “Good. You understand. Let him go, boys.”

  Charles and the other two thugs turned him loose.

  “You just make sure you don’t try something stupid.” Jac pivoted on his heel and strode back into the shadows with his goons right behind him.

  Back to hell, if Wyatt had any say in it. But now was not the time to make any moves.

  “Hey, Wyatt. What’re you doing out here? We’re on next.”

  Wyatt straightened up, ignoring the pain that still lingered in his stomach, and faced his friend. He plastered on a wide grin like he always did, even when he didn’t feel like it. But that was his thing. Grinning and picking.

  Stone Garrett wasn’t a fool. He took in the alley, narrowing his eyes to see into the darkness. Yet even if he’d shifted to bring out his stronger wolf eyesight, Jac and his crew were already gone. “Is something up?”

  “Naw, man. Just getting a little fresh air is all.”

  Stone was Wyatt’s best friend. It hadn’t been that way at the start. They had, in fact, seen each other as rivals, musicians vying for every chance to sing and perform around Nashville. But over time, after spending hours nursing beers while waiting to perform, they’d grown closer. They’d even starting sharing the stage, enjoying their combined sound.

  It was Stone who’d helped Wyatt learn what it was like to be a werewolf. Wyatt didn’t carry a grudge, and had forgiven Stone for his part in his change, even going so far as to share a house to save money. Sometimes he was even thankful for what had happened since it had brought them together.

  Stone was a fine musician, and an even better songwriter, a talent Wyatt wished he possessed. Singing was great, but singing his own songs was even better. That along with a name perfect for a country star had Wyatt a little jealous.

  Stone sniffed and tilted his head. No doubt he’d picked up on the scents of the other werewolves. “Was someone here? Does the pack need us?”

  They both belonged to the large Sterling Pack that lived on a ranch called Two Forks. It was a huge spread located near the small town of Shady Creek, a haven for shifters. The pack liked to keep a low profile and did its best to stay away from human interaction. Although Stone and Wyatt were pack members, their need to break into the music business had meant living closer to the action in Nashville and all the opportunities it gave.

  “Naw. Just meeting up with a few friends is all.”

  Stone wasn’t buying his load of crap. “Uh-huh. Well, whatever the reason, it’s almost time for our set.�
�

  “Right.” Wyatt strode up the steps leading to the rear door of the bar and had almost made it past Stone when he grabbed him, bringing him to a stop.

  “Bro, what’s really going on?”

  They weren’t real brothers, just two men who had a found a kindred spirit in each other, but they were as close as brothers could ever be. Guilt churned Wyatt’s already pain-filled gut. If he could’ve told anyone what he was doing, it would’ve been Stone. But he wasn’t about to get his best friend involved in his troubles.

  His grin widened. “Nothing. Come on. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

  Stone didn’t try to hold on, not that he would’ve allowed him to anyway. Instead, Wyatt pushed past him, then took his time going down the hallway leading to the main room of the bar. He wouldn’t give Stone any more reasons to suspect something was up.

  His guitar was in the holding area the musicians liked to use just off the side of the large stage. There was usually at least one person hanging out there and playing watchdog over their guitars and other instruments. Tonight that guard was Reed Willis, an amazing guitarist who had a lousy voice and an ugly mug, but he didn’t let it stop him from performing. The thing was that, while Reed’s voice sounded like a bulldog getting castrated, the songs he wrote were amazing tearjerkers that women loved.

  “Hey, Wyatt. Stone. You guys about ready?” Reed slugged back a draw from his beer. “Marissa and I killed it. Good luck following us.”

  Wyatt took his guitar and held it close to his ear to lightly strum it. As he’d expected, it was still in tune. “I can see it happening for Marissa. She’s a doll with a great voice. But you? You should get a truck driving license so you’ll have something to keep you in beer money. Give it up, man, and get on the road where you belong.”