Missing Lynx: Soldiers of the Legends

By JA Lafrance

When Étienne "DoRight" LaChance thought life couldn't throw him anymore curveballs, she walks across his path. Her scent captured not only his attention but the grumpy Lynx inside. Both knew this woman was their mate, yet Étienne fought to keep her at arms length. He couldn't watch another female he loved be hurt.

Viktoria Mason wanted out of the town her and her son Rhys lived in. When it wasn't the kids at school bullying her son, it was the creepy town mayor who thought that nothing or no one could touch him. 

What happens when DoRight's biggest fear becomes a reality? Will the men he calls brother's have his back, or is deception in the air?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JA Lafrance
• Release date: Oct 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215880623

JA Lafrance

JA resides in Northern Ontario Canada but is originally from the Capital of Ontario.She is married to her loving husband and has three beautiful children.When she is not locked in her writing cave she works with the board of education as a supply Educational Assistant.She loves watching hockey and Soccer and enjoys talking to the many people she has made friends with.She enjoys a good joke and can usually be seen with a smile on her face and a joke on her lips.

Book preview

Chapter One

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Étienne

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"Yo, Pres, I'll be in my room. I finally got the package from my grand-mémère," I shout, hightailing it through the main room and up the backstairs to the bunkers that are hidden in the back.

DORIGHT! We have church in an hour. If that's what I think it is, make sure I get a fuckin cuppa. Pres yells, I start to chuckle as I head to my room.

I had been missing home for about a year, as that was the last time I went and saw my parents and Grand-mémère.

I bust through the door to my room and smile. It's set up like a typical teenage boys’ room, only I'm twenty-eight years old, and I don't give a shit what people think. So many people have told me to grow up, but why grow up when you can be happy?

Placing the box on my bed, I head to the bathroom before seeing what Grand-mémère sent me. The last time I spoke to her, she told me that grand-père had hurt his back while trying a new move. I had to stop her because that woman tends to indulge in too much information about her sexual exploitations.

Washing my hands, I smile at myself in the mirror and dry them before unsheathing the knife from my pocket and starting for the box.

The tape on the box is insane. I love that woman; she always knows how to make me smile. Finally, getting through the tape, I see a letter.

Etienne,

Bonjour mon petit-fills préféré. Je sais que vous êtes heureux, dans le Michigan, avec ce groupe de jeunes hommes adorables, mais je sais aussi que certaines friandises canadiennes vous manquent.

Nous vous aimons mon petit bijou, soyez en sécurité et venez bientôt nous rendre visite.

amour

grand- mère

I tear up at her scribbled writing and take a note to phone her after church to say thank you and chat a bit.

I place the letter to the side and smile wide. Inside are four huge containers of Tim Hortons’ coffee grounds, coffee whitener, sugar cubes, five cans of poutine gravy, and ten bags of flash-frozen cheese curds.

I look at my watch and realize I have about thirty minutes before church starts. Quickly I turn the hot water on and prep the coffee pot by placing a brown paper filter on the top and filling it with one tablespoon of coffee per cup of water.

I fill the pot with boiling water and put it in the opening, then place a filter in and scoop six heaping scoops of the coffee, add a pinch of salt, and press the start button on the machine.

Then I searched for the paper cups I had found at the local grocery store and set them to the side. I know I have a ten-minute wait, so I sit on the bed, light up a cigar, and turn on Michael Bublé. I get lost in the rum taste of the cigar as Michael sings Haven't met you yet, so the beep from the machine catches me off guard.

This is where the science of making the perfect Canadian cup of coffee comes in. Two spoonfuls of coffee whitener, four cubes of sugar, and percolated coffee go into the cups, one for me and one for my Prez.

Tabernac, c'est chaud. Fuck, that’s hot. I jump back and shake my hand before searching for the two leather cup holders my cousin made for me. I trust Prez will put it back in my room when he is done. The leather holders are a true work of art. One has my cousin's logo. She is an author, and the other is oak leaves.

My thighs start to itch, and I know that I need to shift within the next few days, or my mental health will start to deteriorate, and I'll slowly lose the hair on my legs. Do you know what a Lynx with no hair on his legs looks like? Yeah, neither do I.

The last time I shifted, I almost got caught by a woman and her son. I frolicked in the mud that had accumulated after the rainstorms and almost rolled right into their path. If it weren’t for the tinkle of her giggle and the full-belly laugh of the boy, I probably would have exposed my Lynx in the Michigan forest.

I have to admit that she intrigued me. Her scent was sweet and reminded me of being home and sitting at Grand-mémère 's breakfast table while she served pancakes with warm syrup.

My stomach starts to growl, and I decide that I’ll hit the local grocery store for pancakes and real maple syrup for dinner. I love having breakfast for dinner.

I pick up the two coffees and head to church.

Prez, here it is, the only way to have a coffee. I hand him the cup and smirk as he smiles and breathes in deep.

Black? The prospect at the door states causing everyone to moan and me to turn my head.

"Tabernac prospect, who the fuck told you to open your mouth? Double, double is the proper Canadian way to drink a Tim Hortons coffee. Next, you'll tell me that maple syrup gets served cold and in plastic containers." I shake my head and sit to the left of my Prez about two spots down.

The prez bangs the gavel and brings the meeting to order.

Mayor Burns is up to his old tricks again. He called me this morning and told me a developer had asked about our land at the far end of the lot. You know, the one where the hills collect the most snow during the winter and turn into a mudslide after the rain. He told me the bid came to nearly a whopping thirty million dollars. I told him to fuck off, that the land has been in the hands of the Lions MC for centuries, and money would never change that. We all bang the table and chant fuck the mayor.

We discussed our next plan of action and our next mission before the Prez called the meeting because his stomach was begging for food.

I head out of the clubhouse and straight for the grocery store. Time for blueberry pancakes and syrup or maybe blueberry bannock with maple syrup dip. I will decide when I get to the store and see what they have in stock.

Chapter Two

Viktoria

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"Good afternoon Mrs. Jenkins. I hope you found everything today." I smile at the eighty-year-old woman in front of me as the door chimes go off.

I always find everything and then some. She starts to giggle and turns her head to look at the door.

I start to scan her groceries as I wonder if I found a better job, would me and Rhys be better off? Oh hell, who am I kidding? Any job not at this place would be a better damn job.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that when Mrs. Jenkins put her hand on mine, it made me jump

I am sorry, dear, you were starting to mumble and cry. She leans in and uses her hand to wipe the tear on my cheek before she continues, no matter how hard a battle you're fighting in your head, never let them see you cry.

I smile at her and place my hand against hers. She doesn't know how important those words are.

Thank you, I really needed to hear that. I smile at her and finish off her order.

Some people shop in this store that I truly adore, that go out of their way to make you smile, and then there are the ones that bully you inside and outside of work.

Well, well, well, if it isn't Viktoria Malone. Even in the god-awful grocery store smock, you look like you belong at my feet. I look into the face of Mayor Burns. Not only has this vile excuse of a man made my life a living hell with the constant ignorance, the belligerent taunts, and the vile suggestions that I belong begging him for an orgasm, but his daughter has taken to bullying my son at school and on the playground.

Mr. Mayor, a pleasure to serve you today. Did you find everything that you were looking for? I plaster on the fake smile and grit my teeth. I remember that I have to stay professional at work.

I can see the line building behind him as everyone stands in awe of this man, a man who repeatedly makes passes at me that I politely decline. I don't know how much worse he will get until he opens his mouth.

The best place for you would be between my legs, under my desk. He smirks and blows on his fingers like he just made the best announcement ever.

I stared at him and felt my face heating up, and the tears were stinging my eyes. Why does this man have to be so ignorant?

Tabernac. I hear growling as this gorgeous man pushes his way through the line.

Burns, do you always have the tact of a gnat when dealing with people, more specifically females? he growls as he leans down into the mayor's face.

This tall man has long black hair, a sharp jawline, and full, kissable lips. He has dark aviator glasses covering his eyes, but his hands are what capture my attention. He has a tree on his left hand, with the roots wrapped around his fingers and thumb.

Doright, you always seem to stick your nose in my business. Maybe it's time I stick mine in yours. He starts to laugh, dramatically tossing his head back and throwing his arms out to the side.

Mais Mayor dickface, vous forget Lions Growl MC est votre plus grande threat, he growls, but it sounds more like he is screaming.

Gentlemen, I will have to ask you to leave before I get into trouble. Please, you are in a public place, I hiss, watching my manager storming up from the back of the store.

I'm sorry, Miss, the tall drink of water states and steps back in line.

How much do I owe you, bitch? The Mayor growls as the manager puts his hand on my shoulder.

Your order is on her, Mr. Mayor. I am sorry that she caused such an uproar. My mouth hangs open as I watch the Mayor walk away with fifty dollars worth of steak that I now have to pay for out of my salary, a salary that barely covers my damned rent... The two hundred dollars I get this week will now be short fifty from something that had nothing to do with me.

The tears start to fall from my eyes as I vigorously wipe my face. I can't be in this store anymore. I step back from the machine and inform the cock that is my manager, I'm taking a break.

Then I walk out of the store and directly to my car.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I scream as I pound my fists on the dashboard. I knew not to engage in him, and I didn't. Why am I being punished? I screech at the top of my lungs as a tap comes at my window just before the door is pulled open. The same hand I admired in the store grips my arm and pulls me out of my car.

What the heck! Asking would have been nice, or even better, leaving me the hell alone would have been better. That comes out a bit louder than I intended, but it gets my point across because he removes his hands and holds them up as if to surrender.

I'm sorry about what happened in there, ma Chérie. Mayor Burns is not a nice man, and when he called you those vile words, I had to step in. Mrs. Jenkins is on the phone with corporate, informing them of how your co-manager acted. She is also on the phone with one of da council members, informing them of how inappropriate the Mayor was to one of his constituents. He hands me five one-hundred-dollar bills.

What is this for? I ask, staring at the money.

He makes a low groan and steps back.

Take it, please, I need to go, but I will find you again. He jams the money into my hand before he spins, runs towards a beautiful royal