Isaiah’s Haven
Legacy -2
by
N.J. Walters
Dedication
This book is for all the readers who loved the Striker family as much as I do and asked for more. Thank you for embracing the Legacy series.
To my husband, who is my inspiration, I can’t begin to tell you how much your love and support mean to me.
And thank you to my amazing editor for all your hard work and enthusiasm. You’re one of a kind, Heidi.
Prologue
Meredith Cross closed her eyes and let the slow, sultry music swirl around her. It enveloped her like a lover, making her feel warm and safe. She opened her eyes and looked around Haven, the bar she owned and operated with her family. She’d done something good here. They’d done something good here.
She glanced toward the crowded bar area and smiled as her two sons—Michael and Benjamin—charmed the female patrons and kept the male ones under control as they doled out drinks. They both were big and strong and loyal. Sons any mother would be proud to call her own.
“Everything okay?”
Meredith turned and smiled at Hank. He was one of her four adopted children. They were her family, not by blood, but by choice. She loved them as fiercely as she did her biological children. Hank was built like a tank and kept his blond hair in a buzz cut. He’d been a soldier and looked the part. He was one tough sonofabitch, which made him an excellent bouncer and bartender. He was also her youngest son and, in many ways, a sensitive soul. “I’m fine.”
He stared at her with his pale blue eyes. Most people would have been intimidated by his laser gaze. But not her. Reaching out, she patted his arm in a familiar caress. “Really.”
He nodded, not looking convinced, but taking her at her word. He returned to his post at the door, his large body moving gracefully for such a big man.
Meredith studied the room with its dark oak bar and cozy seating arrangement. The minuscule stage at the far end currently held a jazz quartet. Haven was known for its jazz, blues and folk music. They were an eclectic club and they liked it that way.
A door next to the bar area swung open and Neema strode out carrying a large tray filled with onion rings, fries, nachos and other pub snacks. The food wasn’t fancy at Haven, but it was exceptionally good. A group of young men flirted with her adopted daughter as she served up their order. With her café au lait skin, short, curly black hair and expressive brown eyes, Neema attracted more than her share of male attention. Not that she noticed.
This was Meredith’s home. She lived in an apartment upstairs. In fact, all of them lived in apartments above the bar. It was why she’d bought the building about twenty-five years ago when real estate prices had been cheap. She’d wanted a home for her family. It might have taken another dozen years or so of running before they’d settled here, but she’d always known the building and the city was waiting for them.
She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to dispel the restless feeling that had been haunting her these past few days. A sense of dread had been creeping up on her at odd moments. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t rid herself of the sense that something was coming. And soon.
Shaking herself, she made her way over to the band just as they were finishing up a song. She knew them well and occasionally sang with them. Tonight was one of those nights. She wanted to sing, to lose herself in the music.
Whatever was coming, she could do nothing to change it. All she could do was wait and protect her family as she’d always done.
The band began to play one of her favorite songs without her even having to ask. She let the familiar notes surround her and then she opened her mouth to sing.
Isaiah strode through the woods just beyond the family compound in Wolf Creek, North Carolina. This far out there were no artificial lights to be seen. The sky was awash with stars, the moon a silver sliver in the indigo sky.
He liked being alone. Disliked feeling hemmed in, whether it was physically or emotionally. So why had he agreed to travel to Chicago?
He paused by a large oak and calmly began to strip off his clothing. As he removed each piece, he folded it and tucked it safely beneath the tree. Not that there was much. He was only wearing a T-shirt, jeans, socks and sneakers. With each garment he removed, a layer of civilization was stripped away. Not that he was very civilized on the best of days.
Naked, he raised his arms above his head and let the cool night air surround him, caress his skin. With his metabolism, he was barely aware of the cold. It felt good. Refreshing.
This was what he loved more than anything. Being alone in the woods, unfettered. Why then was he headed to the city as a favor to his brother and sister-in-law?
“Because family comes first,” he muttered. That was his Achilles heel. He might have abdicated his responsibilities to the pack, but he would never relinquish them with regards to his family. His four younger brothers and his new sister-in-law, Alexandra, were all that were important to him.
Shoving away all his misgivings about his upcoming trip, he threw himself into the change, embracing the other side of himself. His bones cracked as he fell forward on his hands. Bones lengthened. Fur grew thick, covering his skin in a soft, rich pelt in various shades of brown with patches of black.
When it was over, he stood on all fours, an enormous wolf, king of the forest. He tilted back his head and howled. A warning to all others in the area. This was his time and his swath of woods. He wanted no company.
His keen sense of smell scented only small game and the pungent smell of half-rotting leaves mixed with fresh pine. A fox scurried away off to his left. An owl hooted in the distance. The familiar feeling of joy filled him and he trotted off into the underbrush, gaining speed as he went.
Here he could let the human side of himself slip away, be buried under the instincts of the wolf. It was never truly gone, but in these moments he could simply be.
He jumped over a downed log and went under another, his lean, muscled body moving easily through the darkness. A lethal shadow. Running. Always running.
From who or what, he was never quite sure.
The restlessness that had plagued him most of his life had gotten worse since his brother had taken a mate. Life in the pack had changed. There had been death and betrayal and bloodshed. When the dust had settled a new pack alpha had emerged and his brother had claimed his mate.
Thoughts of Alex and his brother together made him smile when little else did these days. She was more than a match for Joshua. He was glad his brother was happy, but it had simply made the cavern of dissatisfaction growing within him even larger.
The wolf grew restless, so he suppressed all thoughts of the future and threw himself into the run. He was here at the moment, free and wild, and that was all that mattered.
Yet even here he couldn’t quite shake the feeling something was coming. There was change on the wind. Whether it was good or bad, only time would tell.
Chapter One
Isaiah Striker prowled restlessly down the busy street. Cars and trucks drove by and the “L” rumbled off in the distance. People talked or yelled, depending on their purpose. The city was never quiet. That’s what he hated the most. All the noise. It was enough to drive a man, or in this case a werewolf, mad.
His thoughts wandered as his long legs ate up the sidewalk. He noted the way women watched him with a combination of lust and fear in their eyes or the way men stared warily as he walked by. He was a big man, more feral than civilized. Humans might be far removed from the wilds of their ancestors, but their survival instincts were still there. When they sensed a predator in their midst they had brains enough to get out of the way.