Like Chocolate for Shifters: Truckee Wolves, #1

By Belinda McBride

There are three things that Dr. Briony Theale loves. Her job as a veterinarian, a good bar of rich, dark chocolate, and Rico, the ranger in charge of the Wildlife Rescue Center. When a casual dinner with Rico turns surprisingly intimate, Briony realizes that she might just have a chance with him after all, if only she could lose a few pounds. It's the ultimate sacrifice, but Briony goes cold turkey, and swears off chocolate forever.

Rico Montgomery fell hard for Briony the first time he set eyes on the curvy little doctor. Her rich brown hair and cocoa skin trigger cravings that he can barely control, and her fragrance is like the sweetest, richest chocolate he's ever scented in his life. That's a bad thing for Rico, because to a werewolf like him, chocolate is literally a toxin. After his pack warns him off the very human doctor, Rico finds himself even more drawn to Briony.

Rico can't live with it, and Briony can't live without it. And when a certain wandering wolf finds a bag of chocolate in the trash near Briony's clinic, these two will find out just how toxic love can be.

If you enjoy hot forest rangers, chocolate enrobed anything, and fierce, ex-military mothers, you'll love this book! 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Belinda McBride
• Release date: Jan 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224135257

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Dionne Theale was smoking the final cigarette she would ever enjoy when a plain white envelope was slipped under the door.

She curled up in her worn recliner, studying the large, heavy envelope on the floor across the room. She wondered if this was a job or perhaps the end of the road for her. Technically she’d retired from the military. Given the changes she’d gone through since her separation from Uncle Sam, it surprised her that they still reached out with their covert missions and Eyes Only communications. It was some scary shit sometimes and didn’t leave her feeling so good about life in general. But those odd jobs were allegedly for the greater good of mankind— and the major contributor to her savings account.

She tilted her head in the direction of the bedroom. Her date was out of bed and showering. She felt a surge of that old familiar paranoia come over her, causing her heart to beat faster, her hands to grow slightly sweaty. After all, did you ever really know the people around you? Particularly when you’d known them only hours?

She got up and briefly considered getting gloves and a mask, because God only knew what might be on—or in—that envelope. But her kit was in the bedroom, and she didn’t want to scare the crap out of some innocent man.

If he was innocent.

She slid open a desk drawer and pulled out her Ruger, then fingered off the safety.

Just in case.

Dionne picked up the envelope by the edge, using just the tips of her glossy red nails, and carried it to the cheap wooden desk. She carefully set it squarely in the center of the workspace. The water shut off in the shower, and she left the envelope, hugging the wall as she peered out the living room windows.

It was late, the streets were empty, and a light fog danced slowly under the streetlights. She pulled her silk robe tightly around her body, shivering a little though the heat was still on.

Babe? You see where my socks ended up?

Dionne slipped the gun down into the pocket of her robe and then took it back out. Brian was just some lucky stiff she’d decided to make happy for the night. He came complete with pale, silky hair, a cheap black suit, and a wedding ring, though he’d slipped that off in the bar.

The name’s Dionne, not babe. She slipped the gun back into the desk and loosened her shoulders, rolling them back and forth. From the doorway, Brian gave her a loopy, infatuated smile.

Maybe not so dangerous. He almost made her smile back. He’d found the missing socks and was hopping on one foot, shoving on a black wing tip.

So, I’m really glad I met up with you. I was wondering—he stood and switched sides— if you’d like to meet up again. I mean, you’re gorgeous. Hot.

And you’re married.

He grimaced. Yeah, and I love my wife, but she’s not… He stood again, his tie askew. The he stood still, his gaze intense and serious. You know… She’s not like you.

Yeah, not many women were like Dionne. Men who liked women like her were few and far apart. So hell, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She liked his fair skin, and he really wasn’t bad in bed. He’d examined every bit of her body with rapt fascination, even that part between her legs that probably shouldn’t still be there. She just didn’t yet trust the surgeons who promised flawless results and orgasms to boot. Still, Brian had made love to every part of her. He’d told her his name and was bashful when he undressed. And though he hadn’t remembered her name afterward, she remembered his, because she’d screamed it out there at the end, and that was a point in his favor.

When he came and took her in his arms, she didn’t resist even though she was acutely aware of the fact that a stranger had sneaked up to her door, just feet from where she sat in the darkness, and slipped an envelope into her house.

Shit.

They’d known she was there; the scent of her cigarette would have been a clear signal to someone with that kind of training.

She turned her attention back to Brian. His hands roamed her body, cupping her ass, cradling her breast. They were equal in height, and she kissed him, pulling firmly at his lower lip. He gasped, and she felt his erection against her thigh.

Give me your phone, she murmured, and he fumbled for it before pressing it into her hand. She took the bulky mobile, opened his contacts, and saw entries like auditing and Marie’s desk. All the numbers had local area codes. Dionne didn’t carry a mobile phone—too big, too clunky. Too insecure. The British royals had found that out the hard way.

Quickly she entered a name: David Saunders. She showed it to him before saving. He nodded, and she saw the bright spark in his eyes that showed his excitement at entering an illicit affair with a very taboo lover. He started to speak, and she pressed a finger over his lips.

If you love her… If you can’t afford to lose her, delete that number. Otherwise, know that by doing this, you’re risking everything. Because I don’t love you. I won’t be the shoulder for you to cry on when things go south. I just want someone to fuck who wants me back.

More than that, she wanted someone to love her, to accept her unconditionally, to hug her when she needed it and to laugh at her wry jokes. But given the life she led, there were no picket fences in Dionne’s future. No Prince Charmings and certainly no dogs and 2.5 kids in a station wagon.

Brian looked at her steadily and nodded, glancing at the phone in his hand. He kissed her lightly and headed for the front door, retrieving his raincoat from the back of the sofa. He paused, pulling it on. Oddly, she felt as though she were looking at someone else completely. Someone more serious. Someone…dangerous. Then he was again the decent-looking tax accountant who’d gathered his courage to stop at a certain sort of bar.

Someday, someone is going to love you, Dionne. You deserve it.

He smiled at her, and she walked him to the door, then watched as he walked down the street to his silver sedan, unlocked it, and started the car. When his taillights faded, she watched the darkness, searching the shadows for someone who’d been bold enough to walk onto her porch this late at night. She then stepped back into the house and locked the door.

The envelope waited. She sighed as she slit it open, and a thick packet slid out onto the desk. A folded sheet of paper accompanied it.

Dear Deon,

It’s been a long time since we’ve talked. After that last mission in Iran, I meant to look you up, but circumstances got in the way. I want you to know I miss you and there’s no one I’d ever trust with my life like I trusted you.

That is why I’m putting my faith in you with the most precious secret in my entire life.

You see, if you’ve received this letter, I have been killed, and my wife is gone as well. And I need a favor…the biggest favor someone can ask of another person.

I want you to raise my children. I want you to protect them and make sure they grow up healthy, happy, and free.

Do you remember that mission in Cambodia, where we broke into those labs and found all those pitiful people imprisoned there? I went back and found a couple of the kids and brought them home. Don’t ask how. I cannot tell you. But those labs, they are still in business. They are still hunting and doing heinous things to innocent people. Take my word for it, D, you were one of the lucky ones. Some of the guys…they just up and vanished.

Abraxas is back. They’ve found me, and they want my children. You are the only person I know who can keep them safe. You are the only one I can trust.

Inside the envelope you will find adoption papers and new identities for yourself and the children, and yes, I made sure you are their mother. Everything will stand up to the strictest investigation. You will find sufficient funds to relocate and also to finish the transition you are undergoing. You might not make the most traditional mother, but you are the best person I know of to protect them, and maybe, someday, you will love them. I promise, if you let them, they will love you.

Time is short, my friend.

Please.

CY

After sorting through the papers, Dionne crushed out the smoldering cigarette and hurried to the bedroom to pull down a single suitcase. Once she was dressed, she retrieved a stack of preaddressed envelopes from a lockbox and stuffed them into her purse to drop into a mailbox. A fat roll of cash followed. When she finished packing, she rushed to the front door, keys in hand.

Her car was no longer in the driveway. Instead, a newer, very innocuous sedan idled with its lights off.

She hadn’t heard the sound of cars outside. Damn. Was she slipping? If so, now was the time to get it all back together.

She pulled the gun from her coat pocket and opened the rear door of the car, stepped back, and aimed.

A little girl with dark, loopy curls lay sleeping in the backseat. She wore pink footie pajamas. Next to her a small boy slept in a large car seat. Dionne stared in fascination edged with fear. According to her papers, these were her kids. She was their mother.

Oh my fucking God, she whispered. She carefully shut the door and checked the front seat for unexpected passengers. She then lifted her suitcase into the trunk next to two smaller suitcases.

When Dionne got into the driver’s seat and put the car in reverse, she spotted a sheet of paper on the dash.

She looked at the address and memorized it, then crumpled the paper.

Dionne reached into her purse to retrieve a cigarette and brought it to her mouth. She glanced into the rearview mirror and spotted the mop of dark curls.

Damn. She sniffed the tobacco, shook her head, and rolled down her window a fraction to throw it out. As she drove away, Dionne tossed the pack of cigarettes out the window too and never looked back.

She didn’t see the pale-haired man watching from the shadows.

He walked into the street, picked up the discarded cigarettes and shook one out of the pack. He lit the it, inhaled deeply then flicked it away, exhaling a silvery cloud of smoke.

Then just like the smoke, he was gone. A breeze kicked up, rolling the lit cigarette into a puddle, and the glowing tip went dark.

CHAPTER 1

I really can’t believe you want to muzzle Chaucer. He’s such a sweet boy!

Dr. Briony Theale deftly placed the makeshift muzzle over the little schnauzer’s head. Sweet boy or not, he was showing teeth just a little too readily. Oh, it’s just a precaution, Miss Wilson. My tech has just quit, and I haven’t hired a new one yet. This just makes it a little easier handling him by myself.

Are you sure that other vet isn’t available? That nice man?

Briony barely kept from rolling her eyes at the question. Like she hadn’t heard that a million times over the past two years? She smiled patiently at the elderly woman. Dr. Sewell retired a couple years back. He’s busy deep-sea fishing off the coast of San Diego now. She focused on the dog, giving it a brief physical examination. Now, what brings Chaucer in today?

He’s sick.

Okay, the day was getting better and better.

Can you tell me his symptoms? Or maybe what caused him to be sick? She palpated the dog’s belly, and he grunted. Quickly she inserted the thermometer. While holding the instrument in place, she hummed slightly.

Chocolate?

What? Briony blinked, wondering if her chocolate-heavy lunch was still on her breath. Not that she indulged herself that way every day, but still, she had to stifle the urge to check her breath against a cupped hand.

Considering where her gloved hand had just been… Her face grew warm with embarrassment. Eww…

Well, he was acting hungry, so I shared some of my chocolate with him. There was plenty left over from Easter, and you know, chocolate is so fattening… She broke off, eyeing Briony’s abundant figure critically.

That could be it. Chocolate is very toxic to dogs.

Oh no! I didn’t know! Oh my precious… She nuzzled the nose of the muzzled dog. Considering the muffled growls, the woman would have probably lost the tip of her nose if Briony hadn’t taken precautions to muzzle the little beast.

So is he vomiting? Acting particularly agitated or nervous?

Miss Wilson bobbed her graying head. Yes…yes, he is. That’s why I brought him in, dear.

How much did you give him? Briony straightened and looked at the woman. The dog’s owner was now pale with worry. Most likely the little dog was all she had in her life.

Well, not much… She held out her wrinkled hand, which had a slight tremor. Just a palmful.

Dark or milk?

Why does that matter? Miss Wilson was sounding decidedly irritated. Fear would do that.

Well, for a dog the size of Chaucer, eight ounces of milk chocolate could prove to be toxic, but only one ounce of dark chocolate would have the same effect.

Tears welled up in the elderly woman’s eyes. "Oh no! I’m so sorry, Chaucer. She stroked the dog’s grizzled head. I gave him bittersweet. I don’t care for that type so much."

The little dog was trembling, and Briony knew she needed to act fast. She left the woman comforting her pet and stepped away, stripping off her gloves.

"I’ll need to keep him over