by T. S. Joyce
“Are you kidding me right now?” Cheyenne asked.
“I’ll have one,” Quickdraw muttered as Dead began pouring shots of whiskey. Right there. In front of the cameras and all the interviewers.
Bright side, the interviewers seemed entertained. And especially so when Quickdraw offered a shot to the next reporter who asked Cheyenne if she would like to sit with the bulls she represented and answer questions.
As Cheyenne marched behind the table and stood behind them, Annabelle decided to make this a little fun.
“My question is for Quickdraw. If you were a bug, what kind of bug would you be?”
The interviewers were murmuring around her, but Quickdraw actually answered. “Probably a dung beetle because they roll around in shit all day and smell bad so everyone leaves them alone.”
A few of the reporters laughed.
“Wait! I like that question! I want to answer that one next!” Dead exclaimed around a mouth full of…what was that? Was he cracking peanuts and leaving the shells on the table by the whiskey bottle? Good God, Annabelle could never do Cheyenne’s job of managing the three of them.
As Dead went off about the benefits of being a beautiful butterfly, movement by the exit door captured her wolf’s attention.
“Look,” her animal whispered through her mind. “See.”
So the monster in her middle was done with her silent treatment. Thank God. It had been weird feeling alone in her head.
But look at what? There was nothing by the door. Nothing but a lone cameraman paying attention to the bulls at the front of the room, doing his job. Annabelle shifted her gaze back to Quickdraw. He looked so handsome. Black sweater hugging the curves of his shoulders, black cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes. He kept his gaze down at the now-empty shot glass that he spun slowly between his fingers. He looked up, locked his dark eyes on hers, and gave a small smile before his features darkened again at an interviewer’s question about where he lived when he wasn’t on the road.
“Look.”
Annabelle slid a sideways glance at the cameraman by the door again. He was tall with a fit build and a sandy brown crop of hair on his head. He wore glasses, but when he looked at an interviewer near Annabelle who was asking a question, she caught a glimpse of the color of his eyes—bright green. Too bright green.
Shifters didn’t need to wear glasses, so why was he?
And his camera was pointed at the back of another cameraman’s head. There was no way he could be recording the bulls at the front. It was too crowded in front of him. And the look on his face… His teeth were clenched and his eyes were trained on the boys as they answered questions, but he was tense, glaring.
He looked down only to jot something onto a notepad, and then nonchalant-as-you-like, he shoved that notepad into his back pocket, turned, and walked out of the room. The door clicked closed behind him.
A soft snarl vibrated through her throat. “See.”
She made her way toward the exit, too, but stopped to look at his camera. It wasn’t recording, and he hadn’t turned it off before he left, so that meant he hadn’t been recording at all. This was a prop.
She didn’t have time to wait on Quickdraw and Train Wreck. They were mid-interview and would draw too much attention anyway. But her? She was a good little hunter. Had been since the day Rork had turned her. He’d taught her everything he’d learned as a rogue. Hunting in packs was the norm for her kind, but hunting as a lone wolf? It was a talent that took fostering.
In case he was still outside the door, she stepped out into the hallway and leaned her back on the wall, fiddled with her cell phone like she was just taking a break from the chaos of the room.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him talking to a security guard, Rob, and she strained her ears to hear what he was saying.
“Just looking for the bathroom,” the shifter said. “I drank too much coffee before the interviews.”
“Let me see your ID badge again,” Rob demanded. He’d been one of the security guards introduced to the bulls and their teams before the interviews. The venues were doing better to try to keep the shifters protected from the poisonings.
“Oh, of course.” The shifter pulled up the media ID that was hanging from his neck by a lanyard.
The security guard studied it for a few seconds, then nodded his head and spoke into a radio at his shoulder. “We have one headed to the bathrooms. Name is Dante Miller.” Static sounded, and then he said, “Yep, media.” He twitched his head down the hallway. “Make it quick.”
The security missed the lethal expression on Dante’s face as he walked away, but Annabelle didn’t. That shifter wanted to kill that guard. For what? For making him mind the venue’s rules?
Dante, Dante, Dante…you don’t belong here.
“How’s Quickdraw doing?” Rob asked her as he approached.
Dammit, Dante had disappeared down the hallway.
“About the same as every other interview he’s done,” she said with a laugh.
Rob chuckled. “I swear he chose the wrong career to remain invisible.”
“Agree. He likes the bucking part and the competition, but the attention isn’t his favorite.”
“Well, we all love him and Two Shots and Dead here. They always keep the venue on its toes when they roll through.”
“Oh, God,” she said with a laugh. “I can’t even imagine what your team has had to put up with.”
“Yeah, well, last year when they had semi-finals here, Quickdraw heard about one of the guards having to pay his wife’s medical expenses out of pocket. We had a GoFundMe page running, and the next day after he bucked, a huge donation came in. There was no note on the donation, and the signature only said Q. It was the for the exact amount he’d won that night. We’ve all watched him this year and cheered him on. He’s something special, whether he wants the attention for it or not. We’ll be cheering for him this weekend, too. Back to work, I’ll see you at the event.” He turned to leave. “Oh,” he said, turning around. “If you get a chance to bring it up, can you tell Quickdraw that Don’s wife is okay now? His donation saved them from bankruptcy. He made all the difference. Don wasn’t as stressed out with finances while he was taking care of his wife. He changed that family’s life.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.
“Because I saw you standing by him. Quickdraw kept looking to you, checking if you were okay, kept putting his hand on your back. He walked you to your spot to watch the interviews.” Rob smiled. “He’s yours. Anyone with eyes in their heads can see that.” He tipped an invisible hat and strode off the other direction, disappeared down a hall.
Three seconds was all she allowed herself to stand there and absorb those words. He’s yours.
Such a feeling of safety, joy, and relief flooded her.
Okay. Okay. As tough as she tried to be, the reality was she wanted him to be hers. And she wanted to be his.
But someone was here with bad intentions, and she needed to find out what they were. Quickdraw and his herd’s safety depended on it, and she wasn’t on the outside anymore. She needed him to be safe, too.
She padded casually toward where Dante had disappeared down the hallway at the end of this one, and when she rounded the corner, she made sure she was staring at her phone, just in case he was still there. The hallway was empty, but that was okay. The scent of predator shifter was strong to her heightened sense of smell. She got this feeling that he was a shifter with sharp teeth. Something very dangerous. A wolf, perhaps, or a big cat. Those shifters weren’t out to the public yet and weren’t common, but they existed. Rork had taught her that no matter how rare an event, as long as it existed, it wasn’t to be ruled out.
There was the soft murmur of talking somewhere close, and she stopped and listened. She could just, juuuuust barely hear some of the words.
“The rankings are still the same… Got the map of their rooms… All of them this time?”
“You should k
ill him.”
The idea whispered right through her mind, but Annabelle hadn’t missed it. The wolf had said “you” not “we.” She didn’t have access to the animal.
And besides, what good would it do to snuff out the arm of the problem? Someone was behind Dante, giving him orders, and whoever that was, whatever organization, it was much more dangerous than Dante himself.
Dante was the bullet. She needed to dismantle the gun.
Annabelle jogged to the end of that hallway and slipped through a gate that separated the conference room from the arena. To the side were alleyways enclosed behind metal gates that created a maze that the cowboys could use to move the bulls into position into their chutes when it was their turn to buck for the finals. The first round was tomorrow, so the dirt was already raked and pristine. There was a set of boot tracks that led to a metal gate and then disappeared. He must’ve gone up and over, then onto the raised walkway to the right because the tracks didn’t appear again in the dirt on the other side.
“Clever shifter.”
Anabelle sniffed the air, and it was thick with Dante’s scent.
“Look.”
There was movement a few holding pens down. Dante was up on the last barrier of gates on the other side.
Fast as she could manage, she pulled her phone up and zoomed in, snapped a picture of him.
Dante froze, then turned right toward her.
She gasped softly and jerked back, pressed her shoulders against the wall out of the line of sight of the shifter.
Such bright green eyes. Not a lion shifter, that was for sure. Those big cats always wore gold in their irises.
“Maybe a wolf. Maybe a wolf. Maybe a wolf like us.”
A gate closer to her groaned under his weight, and she cursed to herself. He was coming back.
She fought the urge to run. Running only dredged up the kill instinct in predator shifters, so she hit the video record button on her phone and shoved it in her back pocket, camera facing out. And then she walked a steady pace back in the direction she’d come from.
She could feel him behind her, and chills rippled up the back of her neck. He didn’t feel right. He didn’t feel good.
“Are you hunting me?” a gritty voice asked.
Annabelle turned toward him but kept her face calm. He was only three feet from her, leaning against the wall. So close, and she hadn’t even heard his bootsteps.
She swallowed the snarl that threatened to claw its way up the back of her throat. “I’m hunting a bathroom.”
The lights weren’t turned on here, and his eyes looked even greener in the shadows, as if they were glowing. “You walked right past it.”
She allowed an empty smile. “So did you.”
“Hmmmm,” he rumbled. No growl in his throat to hint at what he was. “Go on, little wolf. Go back to where it’s safe.”
“Is anywhere really safe for people like us?” she asked.
He canted his head like a wild, curious animal. “I suppose not.”
“Then you should go back with me,” she said. “Safety in numbers and all.”
“Oh, little wolf. You aren’t safe with me.”
Annabelle leaned forward and whispered, “Neither are you.”
And then she turned and did something her wolf hated. Hated. She gave her back to a predator.
Her hands were shaking because she could feel him watching her leave. Feel his attention on her. Something was wrong with him. He was dark. He was bad. He’d done bad things.
She could sense the evil on people now, and that man…that thing…was evil.
And the back of her neck was completely exposed.
Chills, chills, chills.
If she could change, she wouldn’t be as scared. If she could call on her wolf, her hands wouldn’t be shaking right now.
“Stay calm.”
Annabelle rounded the corner and ran into a wall. At least that’s what it felt like. She took a breath to scream as a pair of impossibly strong hands gripped her shoulders.
“Annabelle.” The deep tenor of Quickdraw’s voice slowed time, and she looked up into his dark eyes.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, turning in his grasp to see if Dante was still there. The hallway behind her was empty.
“What’s wrong? Did someone fuck with you?” He searched the hallway, fire in his eyes.
“I…I have to get back into the conference room.” She scrambled to pull her phone out of her pocket and stopped the recording. “I have to take pictures of one of the cameras in there before he comes back for it.”
“Okay.” Quickdraw’s voice was full of confusion, but he grabbed her hand and led her back toward the interview room where people were filing out of. “You found something.”
“Y-yes.”
“What can I do?”
“You can give me Hunter Kaid’s number. We need his help.”
Chapter Nine
Quickdraw gripped the phone tighter.
Nothing had ever made him want to kill a man more than what he saw on that tiny glowing screen.
Annabelle was a clever wolf. A clever, intelligent, quick-thinking wolf. She’d shoved her phone in her back pocket while it was recording video.
The soft lurch of the camera was a lulling thing at first, but then a shadow appeared at the end of the hallway. There was light behind the shifter, so Quickdraw couldn’t make out his features at first, but he knew he was a shifter. The glowing eyes gave him away. And if that hadn’t, his creepy agility would’ve as he zigzagged silently back and forth behind her, quietly stalking her, his cold, unblinking eyes trained on Annabelle. Monster.
His hungry gaze made Quickdraw want to wrap his hands around his throat and choke the life slowly from him.
The man stopped a few feet from the camera and leaned against the wall, head cocked, eyes unblinking on Annabelle. “Are you hunting me?”
Annabelle spun around, and all Quickdraw could see now was the dark hallway behind her. “I’m hunting a bathroom.” Annabelle’s voice rang steady and clear. Brave wolf.
“You walked right past it,” the man, Dante, Annabelle had called him, said.
“So did you.”
“Hmmmm,” Dante murmured. “Go on, little wolf. Go back to where it’s safe.”
“Is anywhere really safe for people like us?” she asked.
“I suppose not.”
“Then you should go back with me,” she said. “Safety in numbers and all.”
There was an empty smile in the man’s voice as he said, “Oh, little wolf, you aren’t safe with me.”
The angle shifted as Annabelle leaned forward and whispered, “Neither are you.”
God, Quickdraw loved that she could handle herself in a scary situation, but what happened next again dredged up his murderous instincts that would not be satisfied until he could see the life fading from Dante’s eyes.
Annabelle turned, and the camera settled on Dante as she walked away. The shifter then did something Quickdraw would never forgive, nor forget. He rushed silently forward, hands up in a choking motion, but then froze. He seemed confused by something and slid to the other side of the hallway, watching her through glowing, narrowed eyes. Then he rushed forward again, his fists clenched. He raised one…but hesitated. He approached her again but stopped himself inches from her back. He squatted silently down and watched her walk away with a calculating expression on his face.
The snarl that twisted that shifter’s lips lifted the fine hairs on the back of Quickdraw’s neck. Not because Quickdraw was scared of him, but because he’d been too close to Annabelle while Quickdraw hadn’t been there to protect her.
The video continued, and the man locked eyes on the camera. His smile turned into a snarl, but then he unclenched his fist and waved.
Quickdraw set the phone down on the kitchen counter and sat in the recliner and leaned his elbows on his knees. He looked over at Annabelle who sat on his couch, a blanket over her legs, hands cupped around the hot c
ocoa he’d made her. She looked haunted.
“Why can’t I kill him now?” Quickdraw growled.
“Because he isn’t the main problem. He’s just the hit man. Who is hiring the hit man?” she asked softly.
Her red hair hung in waves down her face, and her skin was as pale as a sheet. For all her bravado, that asshole had shaken her. Hell, he’d shaken Quickdraw, too.
“Annabelle, this isn’t me. I’m not some patient hunter. That asshole isn’t allowed to act like that toward you. No one is.”
“I should’ve been quieter. Maybe he wouldn’t have made me. My maker would be upset if he knew how careless I was.”
“Rork?”
She nodded. “How’d you know his name?”
“I’m a good stalker, remember? He can’t say anything. He has no right to be hard on you.”
“He has every right.” She dragged her vibrant blue eyes from the mug of cocoa she’d been staring at and repeated, “Every right.”
“Okay, can you explain? I don’t like you getting upset over someone else’s reaction. Fuck everyone outside of this RV, Annabelle. I only care if you’re all right, but you have this need to please your maker. Why?”
“Because he made me, but he didn’t leave me, Quickdraw. He taught me how to stay safe. Taught me how to be a lone wolf. Taught me how to hunt the people who hunt me, and there have been many. And every single time, he’s shown up and backed me. He’s fucking crazy. That’s what you’ll think when you meet him, but to me? He’s taught me everything I know in order to survive. So for me, if I feel like I disappoint him? That’s okay. That’s part of my process. Being hard on myself is okay because I’m doing it so I’ll never make the same mistake again. So I can keep myself safe. So I can keep…”
“So you can keep what?”
“So I can keep the people I love safe. Rork teaches me how to do that.”
Quickdraw growled. “Annabelle, you aren’t alone anymore. You aren’t just some lone wolf out there in the world trying to get through to the next week. You’re safe. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” Quickdraw stood suddenly and made his way to her, sat down, and hooked a finger under her chin. She’d ducked her gaze away from him, and he hated it. “Annabelle… You. Are. Safe.”