Read Online Chance Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire 6) by T. S. Joyce - Free Book Online Page A

safe decision for our pack.”
    “Oh, Chance.” Kate’s hand was gentle on his shoulder, and he barely resisted the urge to flinch out from under her. He didn’t deserve the comfort right now. “Love isn’t safe, and it’s never a decision.”
    “She’s Vega’s daughter, Kate,” he croaked out, feeling like the sky was crushing against his shoulders an inch at a time. “He trained her to be like him.”
    Kate stood beside him with Dalton on her other side. “Chance, the woman I met yesterday was nothing like Vega. I would know. I worked with the man for years. Emily was nice. She watched us, was polite, and I could tell from the genuine smile on her face that she was having fun with us. If she is a Hell Hunter, well, I hope they are more like her and less like her father.”
    “She’s denouncing her lineage. After last night, she’s up at Vega’s house burning all his stuff. I heard her tell her trainer she’s done with his mission.”
    “Well, that sounds like hope to me, Chance.”
    “And what if she flips sides again?”
    Kate glared up at him and shoved the side of his head. “Then don’t let her, dumbass. I’m going to go barf and then eat some crackers and pickles. Quit being a chicken shit and pull Emily in close so she doesn’t want to hurt us ever again.”
    “But—”
    “Bye.” Kate gave a half wave over her shoulder.
    Chance rubbed his head where she’d pushed him and yelled at her receding back, “You cuss a lot now.”
    Dalton followed his mate’s escape with his eyes and grinned like she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. “It’s the hormones.” His cousin adjusted his dick.
    “Fantastic. I’m leaving now,” Chance said, pointing to Dalton’s truck. “I’m going to borrow that.”
    “Yep,” Dalton called, jogging inside after his wife. “Don’t get killed!”

Chapter Eight
     
    Emily flipped the page on the ancient werewolf history book and scanned down the family trees of each pack until she reached Jeremiah, Luke, and Gable Dawson at the turn of the century. Chance’s ancestors were in here. Gable had fathered a son named Ukiah, and there was a detailed ink sketch of him on the other side of the page. Ukiah was half Ute and besides his long hair, was the spitting image of Dalton Dawson. Ukiah had gone on to marry a woman named Maya Jones, the daughter of a freedwoman and a white man named Trudy and Elias. Together, Maya and Ukiah had four sons. Clearly, Chance’s cousin had inherited more of the Ute looks than Chance had because the man she adored looked like a fair-haired Viking warrior.
    There was a short description at a failed attempt by the Hell Hunters to kill off the Dawsons. Luke had born a hanging scar, and a woman named Kristina had burns from the fire the Hell Hunters had set to their cabin, but they’d all survived. Apparently, this wasn’t the first time the hatred of the Hell Hunters had hurt the Dawsons.
    The door banged open so hard it banked off the wall and almost hit Chance. Emily startled and froze under the fire of his gaze. Chance opened his mouth, then snapped his teeth shut with a soft clack before striding right back out of the house.
    Okay.
    She made to stand, but his boots echoed across the porch again, and he reappeared in the doorway. “Don’t get up.”
    Hovering her butt above the seat, she murmured, “Right,” then sat back down and folded her hands across the open book.
    Chance’s chest heaved like he’d run a great distance. Rubbing his hands through his hair, he paced in front of the door, then left again, slamming it behind him.
    The word, “Fuck,” echoed through the yard, and then he was back, pushing the door open more gently and looking a little less psychotic.
    “Did you run here?”
    “I drove.” He hooked his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes, scanning the living room and kitchen, then back to the table where she sat. “I expected this place to be different. Darker with, I don’t know, flames