Richard Norwood tilted his head back and released a stream of fragrant cigar smoke into the mahogany-stained timbers above. The even, controlled action muffled the relentless chatter in his head. His mind never ceased its thinking, analyzing, searching for new ways in which he could challenge himself. Something membership in the Carolina Club demanded on a constant basis.

Made up of wealthy, competitive gentlemen, the club had been in existence for over a hundred years, providing exclusive recreational opportunities for men willing to pay a fortune for the privilege of such rare pleasures. The need to reinvent oneself, over and over and over, was as addicting as sugar or heroin. Taste, crave, repeat. Taste, crave, repeat. Taste, crave, repeat.

"What news do you have for us, Mr. Gaviston?"

The attorney settled into one of the many comfortable leather chairs strewn about the Canid Chamber-so called for the many wolf, wild dog, and fox trophies decorating the room. Gaviston nodded to each of the five men gathered.

"I presented the club's generous offer to Miss Shepherd on Friday. Unfortunately, she was not ready to make a final decision."

Gaviston believed the club's interest in the Shepherd property revolved around its rich gameland. A truth, but not Richard's sole motivation. Only a select few knew the full scope of why he wanted the property. Why they wanted the property. The Marksman League.

Several of his close colleagues and he were within a few kills of making Legend status. The last kill on the list seemed impossible to obtain until club member Neil Watters overheard a conversation between Barbara Shepherd and Britt Steele, revealing the state's rarest mammal-Canis rufus-had settled on Shepherd property, making the land invaluable to the exclusive Marksman League.

"How can this be?" Angus Ferguson, a vascular surgeon from Asheville, snapped the newspaper shut, his ruddy Scottish complexion more pronounced than normal. "We offered the girl a fortune."

"Indeed, sir." Gaviston remained unruffled in the face of Ferguson's outburst. "However, Miss Shepherd is a savvy businesswoman and she's proceeding with caution."

"I share Mr. Ferguson's confusion." Jun Ito advanced his black rook into an offensive position against a ghost player. "By accepting our offer, Miss Shepherd would become a millionaire."

If Jun Ito's designer clothes and polished manners weren't enough to label him as old money, the gold family crest he always wore around his neck would clinch it. Although the real estate tycoon had grown up in the United States, he'd spent each summer in Japan, the country of his birth and the resting place of his ancestors.

"The amount offered far exceeds fair market value, and Miss Shepherd realizes that fact."

"So?" Samuel Taylor drawled in his thick Texan accent. "Money's money. I sure wouldn't balk if any of my overseas shipping accounts tried to give me more, I'll tell you that right now."

"Miss Shepherd indicated the club's offer might be too good to be true." Gaviston held Richard's gaze. "I gave her a couple days to think about the matter."

Richard nodded, not happy with the delay, but he'd learned to trust Gaviston's instincts.

"Thank you for the update, Mr. Gaviston. Contact us once you have Miss Shepherd's answer."

Gaviston rose. "Should I update the president?"

"Not necessary. I'll be meeting with Mr. Bennett later today."

The moment the door closed behind the lawyer, Chicago investment banker Neil Watters said in a quiet, lethal voice, "We need to devise a Plan B. The Shepherd girl is going to be a problem."

"The girl is Plan B," Richard reminded him, giving Ferguson a pointed look. "What we need is a foolproof plan should Miranda Shepherd not accept our offer."

Although Watters neared Legend status, he had more trials to complete before Richard could bring him into the League's confidence. Completing Carolina Club's Kill List proved an effective recruitment tool for more cultivated, select tastes.

A wave of fury burned over his scalp. Their original plan had been a good, solid strategy, though the Shepherd woman had proved to be a strong adversary. One who'd refused to back down.

But the memory of her stubbornness wasn't what put Richard in a rage. It was the damned hotheaded Scot. Angus Ferguson had a tendency toward impetuous, not thought out, or approved, actions. And more importantly, he'd anticipated Richard's next move, something that wouldn't happen again.

"She'd be a bloody fool not to," Angus blustered. "It's the only way to save her business."

"Be careful of absolutes." Richard released another column of smoke. "Operating in black and white always proves disappointing."

"What do you propose?" Jun asked.

"It's quite simple. If she will not sell us what we want, then we'll have to take it."

"By whatever means possible?" Sam asked.

"We didn't allow her self-righteous mother to stand in our way. The grieving, financially ruined Miranda Shepherd will either bend or break to our will."

"Your preference?" Jun asked.

"The latter, of course."

11.

Then you'll lose the Shepherd property.

Grif's words continued to haunt Britt for the next four days. Losing the property meant failing the red wolves. Something he couldn't do.

Although he suspected it would be a long shot, Britt had contacted several national and international conservation agencies to see if they would be interested in purchasing property inhabited by red wolves. Many had been quite intrigued, but none would commit funding until their biologists could verify the wolves' authenticity. Not one of them would accept the tests he'd collected. Once again, time wasn't on his side.

He hadn't bothered notifying the North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission or the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Both were useless to him. The combination of the Commission renouncing the red wolf as a distinct species and an independent report revealing the Service's lack of adequate support for the Red Wolf Reintroduction Program had once again thrown the program into a tailspin of impending failure.

The numerous papers and handwritten notes on his desk blurred in front of him. Between working on the Shepherd property issue, refurbishing Ronnie Smith's kitchen, and checking in on Reid's contractors, Britt had slept less than four hours a night in the past week. He rubbed his tired eyes, wondering how the hell he was going to fix this thing with Randi.

Considering the amount of business flowing through Blues, Brews, and Books, Britt had a hard time believing her company was in financial trouble. But he trusted his brother. The guy had his nose up everyone's business. Grif had only been back in North Carolina for a few months and he knew more about the inner workings of the town than Britt, who'd been here his whole life.

So what had happened? How had a thriving business taken a dive? Lawsuit? Bad investment? Poor bookkeeping? More than once, he'd seen on Gordon Ramsay's show tales of how a bad chef could have a disastrous impact on a restaurant-ordering too much inventory, allowing a decline in the quality of the food, not having control of the kitchen. Britt recalled his recent lunch and couldn't fault the service or the food. But maybe Carlie Beth had something to do with his positive experience.

As closemouthed as Randi was, he'd probably never find out the exact reason behind the bar's imminent collapse. The realization bothered him more than it should.

A knock sounded on his cabin door, jerking him out of his thoughts of Randi's financial crisis. He glanced at his phone-9:20 p.m. He rarely got visitors and never any after sunset.

He moved toward the window and looked out. A red Jeep sat in his drive. Britt's heart slammed against the wall of his chest before sliding into a freefall toward his stomach. He stared at the door for a confused moment, unable to reason out why Randi Shepherd would be at his door at this time of night.

Another knock, this one more forceful, compelled him into motion. Bracing one hand on the doorframe, he eased opened the door. "Randi." He peered behind her. "Can I help you?"

"Am I interrupting anything?"

He shook his head. "I needed a break." He waved her inside, though he didn't move aside.

Wearing a sleeveless floral summer dress and low-heeled tan sandals, she looked as feminine as he'd ever seen her. She wasn't wearing one of those strappy getups that showed her cleavage and two-thirds of her thighs, though Britt wouldn't have complained if she had. Her outfit looked like something Audrey Hepburn would have worn. Feminine, elegant, enticing.

"Going out, or headed home?" He would rather have told her how beautiful she looked, but her expression did not welcome compliments.

"On my way home." She brushed her hand over her skirt. "I attended a fundraiser in Asheville."

"What kind of fundraiser?"

"Political. One of my college friends is running for state office." She scanned his entryway. "Not really my thing, but Natalie begged me to attend."

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"Got any beer?"

"I'm a Steele. We always have beer at the ready."

When he closed the fridge door, he found her circling the edges of the living room, squinting at family pictures and picking up knickknacks. Her inspection of his personal items was unnerving. What did she think when she saw the picture of him and his siblings? Most of his pictures were more than twenty years old, when times were more fun, carefree. He didn't have a single picture of him and his entire family together in the past decade. The realization created a hollow feeling in his heart.

Holding out a bottle, he said, "Here you go."

She accepted the beer and took a long draw before resurfacing.

"Better?"

Nodding, she glanced around as if wanting to sit.

Dammit. Where were his manners? His mother would not be pleased.

"Have a seat." He indicated the soft brown leather sofa. Once she was comfortable, he asked again, "What brings you out here so late?"

"I'm sorry to bother you. Your light was on and I didn't see any other vehicles in the drive, so I decided to give it a shot."

"Give what a shot?"

"See if you'd invite me in."

"Why wouldn't I? I told you earlier this week that I had nothing against you." He lifted his bottle to his mouth and tilted his head back. "As much as I cared for your mother, I blame Barbara, not you, for our predicament."

"Speaking of predicament, have you made any headway in raising the necessary funds?"

And just like that, the air cooled to thirty-two degrees.

"I still have until tomorrow."

"Yes, but the buyer's attorney contacted me today. He's going to stop by tomorrow, and I'd like to give him my answer." She searched his features. "Surely, you know by now whether or not you can get a loan or find a sponsor."

Helpless anger blurred Britt's vision. He pushed it back and concentrated on diluting their conversation down to a cold-blooded business transaction. No emotion, nothing to lose. "If I add my savings, cabin, property, business, and truck to the money the bank is willing to lend me, I'll be close-"

"Your cabin and truck? Your business?" she asked, horrified. "Why would you give up everything of value to save Mom's property? I don't understand."

"Because I made her a promise." And because I am the wolves' last hope.

"No promise is worth the kind of sacrifice you're suggesting."

"Normally, I would agree with you. But, in this case, it is."

"I can't do 'close,' Britt."

He bolted from his chair, startling her. At the moment, he didn't care. She was one comment away from leaving, and he couldn't think of a way to stop her. His mind sparked in a thousand different directions. Staring out the picture window, he saw nothing of the towering cluster of trees or the dilapidated shed. He saw only his reflection, his failure.

If he'd been Grif, he could have charmed her over to his side. Jonah could have waved a wad of cash to win her over. Reid could have...God only knew how, but the devil would have managed the situation. Britt had-nothing. Not a single special quality he could employ.

A light touch on his sleeve brought his attention around to an insanely beautiful pair of green eyes. How many times had he lost himself in their depths? Had wanted her to see him as a man and not just a patron? Had wanted to gather her into his arms and kiss her until they clawed at each other for release?

"There's something more going on here than a mere promise," she said in a tone one reserved for wild animals. "Tell me."

His gaze dipped to her mouth for an aching second before returning to the outdoors. Complete darkness had set in, making their reflection even more pronounced. Impenetrable.

Could he trust her with his most valuable secret?

Could he afford not to at this point?

Barbara hadn't done so. Wouldn't a mother confide in her only daughter?

Probably not, given their estrangement.

Dammit, he didn't want to make an irrevocable mistake. So much rode on the wolves remaining invisible.

He sought her gaze in their reflection. The glass barrier could not disguise her compassion, her strength, her honor. Trust budded through his veins, strengthening with every inch traveled until his spine snapped straight with his resolve.

He took a Mount St. Helens-sized leap of faith.

"An endangered species lives on the property."

"Plant or animal?"

"Isn't it enough to know one exists?"

"No. North Carolina has nearly fifty species of plants and animals listed as endangered. Due to its pristine nature, I don't doubt the property contains one or more on the list."

"If you know this, why consider selling to someone else?"

"Part of the buyer's mission is wildlife conservation. Seems a good fit to me."

"There are many levels of wildlife conservation. Many of which your mother did not approve."

"Then she should have willed the property to you. But she didn't, so it's left to me to figure out the best course of action."