Page 7 of His Brazen Mate

With that, she turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Drake watched her go, his mind racing. Her reluctance to speak only confirmed his suspicions. There were secrets here, buried deep, and he was determined to uncover them all. His father's death, the coded ledgers, Victoria's evasiveness—it all pointed to something much larger, much darker than he had ever imagined.

As he returned to the desk, Drake's resolve hardened. He would not rest until he had uncovered the truth, no matter how deep he had to dig or what dangers he might face along the way. His father's legacy demanded nothing less.

Drake took a deep breath, closing the ledger and straightening the papers on his father’s desk. As he prepared to leave the study and rejoin the tasting event, his mind buzzed with fragments of information. His father’s coded ledgers, Aunt Victoria's evasive responses, and his growing sense of danger all pointed to one conclusion: he needed help. Someone with law enforcement connections could guide him through the murky waters ahead.

As he left the office which had once been his father’s, and made his way to the tasting room, he gathered his thoughts and tried to make sense of them. The atmosphere grew warmer, and the sounds of clinking glasses and cheerful chatter grew louder with each step. He mentally sifted through his contacts, considering who might have the connections and discretion necessary for such a delicate investigation.

Entering the room, Drake was once again assailed by a wave of nausea and dizziness. The sensory overload hit him hard, and he steadied himself against the door frame, taking slow, deep breaths. He knew these feelings were more than just nerves, more than just his enhanced dragon senses warning him of the danger lurking nearby. Unless he was mistaken—and he didn’t believe he was—his fated mate was near, and as he’d felt nothing within the clan, it stood to reason that she was amongst the guests.

Determined to push through, he scanned the room, his eyes landing on the attractive but aloof woman he had noticed earlier at the tasting event. Her elegant posture and the way she observed everything around her with keen interest stood out to him. He had intended to avoid her, assuming she was just another guest, but now he realized he had no choice. There was something about her that suggested she might be more than she appeared.

Reluctantly, Drake made his way over to her, weaving through the crowd of guests. As he approached, he caught snippets of the conversation but kept his focus on the woman. She was standing near a display of the distillery’s finest bottles, her back straight and eyes sharp.

"Excuse me," Drake said, offering a beguiling smile. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Drake McAllister."

She turned to face him, her expression cool and assessing. "Megan Reynolds," she replied, her tone neutral and her eyes revealing nothing as she extended her hand to him.

"Nice to meet you, Megan," Drake said, recognizing her as a shifter and trying to gauge her reaction. The instant their hands touched, it was as if an electrical charge arced between them. He knew she felt it, too, when she jerked her hand back. Drake smiled, trying to reassure her. "I couldn't help but notice you seem to be observing more than participating in the activities. Mind if I ask what brings you to our little event tonight?"

Megan's eyes narrowed slightly, and she studied him for a moment before answering. "I have both a personal and a professional interest in the distillery. Let's leave it at that."

Her evasive answer piqued his curiosity even further. Drake took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Might your personal interest have to do with seeking your fated mate?” Her eyes flashed, but she quickly reverted them to neutral.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about Commander McAllister.”

“It’s mister now, but I would prefer Drake. The fact is Megan, I could use some help with a... delicate matter. Someone with your observational skills might be able to assist."

Megan raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Why trust me, and what kind of help are you looking for, exactly?"

Drake hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Because I sensed earlier that you are not just some random guest at our annual tasting event. So, I asked a friend to run a background check on you.”

From the moment he’d thought something was off with the books, he’d had Jasmine run a background check on any guests who had not attended the annual tasting before. Megan Reynolds had passed the preliminary check, but Drake had asked Jasmine to dig deeper. What she’d found led them both to conclude that Megan Reynolds was a cover identity.

He held up his hand to ward off her denial. “But I’m willing to let that matter slide at the moment. I need someone I can trust. I’ve been gone a long time. I'm trying to uncover some information about my father's business dealings. There are things that don't add up, and I believe someone with the right experience could be invaluable."

For a moment, Megan’s mask slipped, revealing a flicker of surprise. She quickly regained her composure, but Drake had seen enough to know he was on the right track.

"I might be able to help," she said slowly. "What kind of experience do you think I have? And whatever it is, you'll need to be more specific about what you're dealing with."

Drake nodded and grinned, relief washing over him. "I appreciate your discretion. Given some of the information I’ve uncovered, I'm wondering if you might be with some kind of law enforcement agency.” No reaction. His mate was undercover and good at her job. “I’m thinking either the FBI or perhaps even the ATF? Perhaps we can find somewhere quieter to talk."

Megan glanced around the room, then back at Drake. "This is your distillery, Alpha. Lead the way."

As they moved toward a quieter corner of the distillery, Drake was beginning to feel that with her help, he might be able to unravel the mysteries surrounding his father's death and the hidden dangers that threatened the distillery and the clan.

Not certain of her true identity, he felt a cautious optimism. And there was the potential of a fated mate bond. Despite what might lie ahead, Drake sensed he had an ally in Megan Reynolds.

CHAPTER 5

MEGAN

Grabbing her parka from the wooden peg on which it had been hung, Megan followed Drake as he led her through the winding corridors of the Northern Lights Distillery’s main building. Once they were outside, they made their way through a series of winding paths that eventually led back to the main house, which was off-limits to event guests.

The murmur of the crowd faded behind her, replaced by the soft echo of their footsteps against the aged wooden floors. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and caution. This was the moment she had been waiting for—a chance to get closer to Drake and gather more intel on the smuggling operation she was investigating. She’d been wondering how to do so, but as the opportunity had presented itself, Megan had seized it.

She knew she would need to disabuse him of his notion that they were fated mates. They might very well be, but she was not in the market for one. As he’d recognized her as a shifter as well, she meant to find out what type of shifter he was and what she would be dealing with.

As they emerged into the crisp Alaskan air, Megan pulled her parka tighter around her, her breath coming out in white clouds, visible before evaporating. Drake led the way back through one of the distillery's older buildings, where the craft of creating their renowned bourbon took place, and up toward the main house. Next to the gathering room, the house was enormous, its silhouette stark against the imposing mountains that dominated the horizon.

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