Shifting Ground: White Fir Bend Cult Series, #2

A new BBW shifter romance in the White Fir Bend Cult series from New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Tabitha Conall...

Army Ranger and bear shifter Tiger Kane got kicked out of the cult he grew up in when he was fifteen. Now he's back to rescue his estranged mom from the clutches of the cult leader.

BBW Dr. Piper Holmes thought she was going to be studying dropping fertility rates in a rural shifter town. If she'd known she'd be trapped in a cult compound where grown men married twelve-year-olds and grown women wore bruises, she never would have agreed.

Thrown together, Kane and Piper work to help two women escape the cult. But other forces are at work, and Kane and Piper don't know who they can trust.

They're not even sure they can trust each other.

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The White Fir Bend Cult Series

A Minor Shift

Shifting Ground

Shift for Her

Graveyard Shift

Shifting Ground © 2015 Tabitha Conall

Shifting Ground

by

Tabitha Conall

Chapter 1

What the hell was she doing here? Piper Holmes had asked herself that many times during the past few days as she’d settled into White Fir Bend and been introduced to some of the inhabitants, but this was different. Today she’d started doing interviews of some of the women as the first step in her research into why the conception rates were so low, and what she’d found disgusted her.

Piper forced herself to concentrate on what the woman—Grace—was saying.

…been married five years and we’ve been trying and trying and I just can’t get pregnant. Grace took a shaky breath. She braced her hand against the worn brown couch they were sitting on in Piper’s office.

The paper Piper had been taking notes on matched what she remembered Grace saying a few minutes ago, even if Piper still couldn’t believe it. Grace was seventeen. She was seventeen now. If she’d been married for five years already that meant she’d gotten married at twelve. Piper swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t throw up.

Grace wasn’t the first young woman like this. Piper had done the math with each woman she’d talked to, and not one of them had gotten married at an age older than thirteen.

What the hell was she doing here? Gerald Calvin had asked her to come help with fertility and had offered her a generous salary to do so. He’d never mentioned that he was running a cult where young girls had to get married when they’d barely passed puberty.

And that’s what this had to be—a cult. Because otherwise, what kind of parents in their right minds would marry off their daughters at such young ages?

That wasn’t all. Another pattern had started to emerge as well—these poor girls were all married to the same cluster of men. The men each had multiple wives. Piper had to wonder if she wasn’t sitting in the middle of some sort of pedophile’s dream town.

But why did the mothers put up with it? Surely they knew what would happen to their daughters if they stayed. Why didn’t they take their little girls and run?

They must be brainwashed, every single one of them. Maybe they didn’t realize that one town over there were police and social services who would protect them and help them get on their feet. If they thought they had nowhere to go, they’d stay.

Piper forced herself to ask the girl some additional questions she didn’t want to know the answers to. How often do you and your husband have sex?

All the time. Grace sniffed.

Piper tried not to react. God. All the time? Can you put a number on that? Like, once a day? Once a week?

Three times a week. I get three nights with my husband.

Three nights with her husband. Because his other wife or wives had to get their nights too. Damn. Should she ask? Before she could help herself, she said, How many wives does your husband have?

I just have one sister-wife, but my husband’s still young. He’ll marry again. The girl straightened in her chair. I need to have children before that happens. I’m his first wife. It’s my duty.

First wife. What century were they living in?

A glance at the plain black and white clock on the stark white wall showed Piper their interview was almost over. And as much as she hated what was going on, she needed to keep going with her job until she could figure out what the hell she should do.

She asked the last few questions and sent Grace on her way. As soon as the door closed behind the girl, Piper sat down in her desk chair and dropped her forehead onto her arms.

Every story she heard reminded her of Jane. Her friend had started dating her sweetheart in junior high. It wasn’t until late in high school that Piper saw bruises on Jane’s arms and started to pay more attention. She talked to Jane, tried to get her to leave her boyfriend, but Jane wouldn’t hear of it.

Prom night, Jane disappeared. They found her body a couple of days later.

Jane’s boyfriend had been convicted, but it wasn’t good enough. Piper felt sure that if she’d just done something more, Jane wouldn’t be dead.

And now these girls. Truth be told, if consenting adults wanted to participate in polygamy, Piper could deal with that. It was those people’s business and they weren’t hurting anyone. But when the wives were kids, that was another thing entirely.

And Piper hadn’t missed the bruises several of the women had on their arms. After the first bruise she saw, Piper paid more attention. More than half the women had bruises and even scars where there shouldn’t have been any—not just their arms, wrists, and hands, but their necks, collarbones, even their faces.

These were shifters, every one of them. Shifters strong enough to protect themselves, to fight back against their attackers. Shifters with immune systems strong enough to heal most wounds and not leave a scar.

But maybe their being shifters was part of what kept them so isolated. The world didn’t know about shifters, but it wouldn’t be hard for Gerald Calvin to convince these people that the world hated shifters and that the only safe place was here, in White Fir Bend.

Not for the first time, Piper wished she could find her cell. She’d lost it her first day here and even though she’d torn her car and suitcases apart, she couldn’t find it. There was a phone in her office, but her cell had all her phone numbers on it. Worse, this godforsaken town didn’t have internet. Not at all. So she was effectively cut off from her friends and family until she could locate her cell.

Piper really wished she could talk this out with someone but she couldn’t. And she didn’t know what she was going to do about what was going on, but she did know one thing. She owed it to Jane to do something.

She just had to figure out what.

***

Tiger Kane—Kane to his friends and to anyone who didn’t want to be beaten to a pulp—never thought he’d see White Fir Bend again. Yet here he was, rolling down Main Street like the town’s elders hadn’t kicked his ass out and dropped him on a corner in Chicago a good decade ago.

At least now he had backup. His three best friends, guys he had served with in the Army, were here to help him out. Even Bowie had come along—Bowie, who had just found his mate and should really be holed up in her bedroom instead of playing Gameboy in the back of their rented SUV.

Stryker sat in the front next to Kane while Ranger had shifted into his wolf and curled up on the floor in the back seat to take a nap. They’d had to push the seat back as far as it would go and even then it was a tight fit.

The first houses they passed as they entered town were new. Kane didn’t recognize them, so he figured they must have been constructed since he was kicked out. Then the SUV moved into more familiar territory where he could name the families who lived in each house. He even saw some of them out in their front yards, confirming they still lived there. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

It wasn’t long before they reached the home he’d grown up in. As Kane pulled into the driveway, his stomach flipped over. He hadn’t seen his mother since that night when she’d watched the men drag him from the house. They hadn’t even been in touch; he’d never called or written and she didn’t know where he was. For all she knew, he was dead by now.

He might have been, if it weren’t for Ranger. He owed that guy his life.

Kane got out of the car and stood by it while his friends unfolded themselves from their seats. Ranger padded over and sat on his haunches next to Kane as they both gazed at the small clapboard house. It looked innocent enough. That just went to show how much a white picket fence could conceal.

Once Bowie and Stryker had joined them, Kane looked down at Ranger. You want to change first?

Ranger shook his head.

We’re going to wait here, Bowie said. We’ll come in if you need us, but we think you should see your mother alone. At least at the beginning.

Kane didn’t want to go in alone. He still couldn’t believe his mother hadn’t said a single word as the men had carted him off. But Bowie was right. So Kane stiffened his back and headed for the door.

It opened before he got there and an older woman stood in the entryway. Yes?

He had to blink a couple of times before he recognized her. His mother had aged and not in a good way. Mom?

She stared at him but didn’t say anything.

It’s me, Kane. Tiger. He corrected himself. Fifteen years he’d had to go by the name ‘Tiger’ and be reminded every day that he wasn’t what his father had wanted him to be. Instead of shifting in the promised tiger, Kane’s animal was a bear. Most parents would be thrilled to have a bear for a son, but not Kane’s. His name was the first thing he changed when he got to Chicago. Who the hell named an infant after an animal anyway?

Tiger? She didn’t move, didn’t come closer nor move away. You’ve changed.

He bit his tongue to hold back the first responses that came to mind—‘no shit’ and ‘you too.’ Instead, he said, It’s been a long time. Long enough for him to change from the growing but still awkward teen he’d been into a 6’4" muscle-bound soldier, complete with crew cut and shitkickers. And a variety of tats, but his mother couldn’t see that, not at the moment.

What are you doing here? she said.

"I