The sheriff’s name was Hank Merrow.
The same name as the man she’d come to marry.
After a long day of providing escort for the US Marshals Service, Hank pulled his duty car into the driveway to find another vehicle already there.
The Mercedes belonged to his parents, but they hadn’t said anything about coming to visit. A sense of foreboding settled deep in his gut as he parked. His time with the Army Rangers had honed his already sharp shifter senses, so he knew when something bad was about to go down. He steeled himself for whatever that might be and went inside.
His parents had used the key he’d given them and were sitting in his kitchen, having coffee.
His dad sat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. He gave Hank a nod and lifted his cup in greeting. “Son.”
Hank nodded back. His father looked well. “Dad.”
“Hank!” His mom smiled and gave him a big hug. “How are you, honey?”
“Good.” His mother wasn’t giving off any stressed vibes either. Maybe his gut had been wrong. That would be a first. “I didn’t know you were coming. Have you been here long?”
“No, just a little bit,” his mother answered. “Are you hungry? Did you just get off work? You don’t have a thing to eat in this house. Did you have dinner at Howler’s?”
“Belinda, leave the man be. He just got home.” Griffin Merrow shook his head. “You’re as bad as your sister, woman.”
Hank kissed his mother’s cheek. “Yes, I just got off work, and yes, I ate at Howler’s. That’s why I’m home so late.” He glanced at his father. “Since you mentioned Aunt Birdie, are you staying with her?”
His mother raised her brows. “Is that your way of saying you don’t want us?”
“It’s my way of asking if you need the guest room.”
“We do,” his father answered. “But we’ll be out of your hair first thing.”
Hank retrieved a beer from the fridge, popped the top and leaned against the counter. “Quick trip. What’s going on? Has to be important if you drove down.”
“It is.” Griff twisted the bar stool away from the counter to face his son. “You want to talk in the living room?”
Hank shook his head. His gut hadn’t been wrong. It was reassuring. To a degree. Depended on what the news was. “I’m good here.”
“All right.” Griff sighed. “You know that our pack owes a debt to Tennessee.”
“Yes.” Hank already didn’t like the direction this was going. A decade ago, through a strange twist of events, Hank’s younger brother, Titus, had been in a car accident in the Smoky Mountains. Through another strange twist, the alpha of the Tennessee pack had been on the scene and saved Titus’s life. And so the debt had been created.
Griff crossed his arms. “That debt has been called. With conditions.”
“You’ve been in talks with Clemens Kincaid?” The man might have saved Titus’s life, but he was a criminal. Hell, his whole family was nothing but thugs. Moonshiners, gun runners, gamblers, they made their money skirting the law. They gave decent shifters a bad name.
“Yes. Talks he initiated. He wants a truce.”
“I’m sure that’s not all he wants.”
“It’s not. He wants me to allow their bourbon to be sold in Georgia.”
“It already is.”
“Technically. He wants me to lift the ban.”
“That’s not such a big deal.” Bourbon and auto parts stores were the Kincaids’ two legit businesses. Griffin Merrow had declared Kincaid bourbon off limits to all weres in the state of Georgia, which meant not only did shifter-owned stores and bars like Bridget’s not carry it, but with Griffin’s influence neither did a lot of human-owned places. “Bridget won’t like it. You want me to talk to her?”
Griff nodded. “Sure. But that’s not why we’re here.”
Hank sipped his beer. “What do you need me to do?”
Griff hesitated, an uncharacteristic move for the man who had been alpha of the Georgia Pack for the last thirty-two years. Hank braced himself for the thing his gut had been warning him about. “Clemens is insisting on a marriage to seal the deal. His daughter. My son.”
From the concern in his mother’s eyes and the reluctant tone of his father’s voice, Hank got the picture. A pack leader’s sons often had to marry for the sake of power or place. Being firstborn meant Hank would be the likely choice but Griff had said “My son” not “You” so Hank assumed Titus was the sacrificial lamb. “You know I’d do anything for you and the pack, but there’s no way I can talk Titus into this. He’s in love with Zoe. He wants to marry that girl. It doesn’t matter who talks to him, he’s not going to give her up.”
Griff cleared his throat. “This isn’t about Titus.”
Hank set his beer down and crossed his arms. There it was. “Clemens wants me to marry his daughter.”
Griff’s slow nod answered Hank.
Belinda clucked her tongue and looked skyward. “A Kincaid married to the next-in-line alpha. It’s a power play.”
“Clearly.” Hank shook his head but kept his eyes on his father. “We’re the bigger, more powerful pack. It’s ours to refuse. You could still lift the ban on Kincaid bourbon.”
“Clemens has promised a war if we refuse and he’d have some grounds, since we’d essentially be refusing to repay a debt we owe.”