by Piper Fox
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Or are you just going to leave me to guess?” She purses her full, plump lips before she brings her beer bottle to her mouth.
Fuck, if I keep staring at her like this, I’m going to be harder than steel. I can’t remember the last time I had a reaction this intense, this immediate, to a woman.
“It’s sort of a family reunion.”
She looks around the bar, at all manner of shifters, laughing and joking, swapping stories. I don’t blame the incredulous chuckle she gives me. “Family, huh?”
“A found family, of sorts.” I lean back, trying to focus on the crowd, on the people who are most likely to cause trouble tonight.
As a member of the Supernatural Enforcement Agency assigned to this region, I can’t let the meeting get out of hand. Meeting in St. Cloud is far safer than trying to do it in the heart of the twin cities. It wouldn’t be safe for the unsuspecting mortals. Which means I can’t let Ryanne distract me from my duty.
But Gods, do I want her to.
I wait until she’s distracted again by her beer and the crowd before I lean over and surreptitiously smell her. It’s like her perfume, whatever she’s wearing, is made of pure, unadulterated arousal, and it’s going straight to my head while all my blood heads south.
How none of the other shifters seem to have picked up on it yet is beyond me.
She crosses her legs as she turns to look back at me again. “It’s like a club or something?”
“Something like that.”
“And everyone in here except me was invited, is that it?” She smirks as her eyes glance around the room again.
I’m beginning to wonder if she’s in some sort of law enforcement as well, with the way she’s positioned herself at the table, the way she keeps looking around, watching. Like she’s always vigilant.
“Not everyone,” I lie.
As far as I know, everyone in the room, from the bartenders and bouncers, to the infants back near the pool tables with their leopard mother, are shifters.
Molly’s not, but she’s got a supernatural streak of her own, which is why we know we’re safe here. The witch stocks the best booze for shifters, and usually spikes things with a little extra, which makes it a hot spot for any of us to want to be in.
I stick to club soda with lime though. I don’t need a fuzzy brain or distractions.
Not that Ryanne’s any help in that arena.
Every time she drinks from that beer bottle of hers, my brain goes haywire, and images of those dark lips wrapped around my cock fill my head.
“I think you should head home. It’s not a safe place to be here tonight.”
“I can hold my own, Gage. Don’t worry about me.” She smiles, a flirty, sensual grin. “No chance you’re going to tell me what kind of club this is?”
“Not likely.” I return her smile, reaching over to touch her hand. “If you insist on sticking around, then I insist you stay close to me.”
“Oh, yeah? And why should I do that? Don’t think I have any other friends in this crowd? I’ll have you know—these are my people. I’m in here all the time.” She tosses her dark brown hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck.
The simple movement has my panther purring. Even if she has no idea of the power of an exposed neck, my brain, or what little use I still have from it, doesn’t seem to comprehend anything other than a submissive mate putting her trust in me.
Gods, did I really just think the word mate? I can’t be this twisted up, not when more and more drinks are flowing, and different types of shifters are getting more worked up.
On a good night, one of these gatherings ends in only a few people getting into fights, only a few people walking away with wounds that will heal.
On a bad night…claws and teeth fly with little regard for anyone else who’s wandered into the bar.
If Ryanne insists on staying, I pray it’s a good night.
“Okay, if you’re not going to tell me what sort of club you are, will you at least tell me why you’re here? You don’t seem as rough and tumble as some of these people.” She hasn’t pulled her hand away, which I find both comforting and infuriating. Why is she so trusting of me? Of a wild animal who isn’t afraid to get my claws dirty or blood in my mouth?
With my free hand, I take another sip of my soda. “You’d be surprised, Killer.” I smirk with the same self-assuredness she used earlier. “Just because I choose to dress nicely when the occasion calls for it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to get dirty.” The last word comes out sounding more like an innuendo than I intend it to, but I don’t try to take it back or hide the hunger in my eyes.
If Ryanne wanted to take me into the bathroom and do any number of depraved acts with me, I don’t think I could stop her. My panther certainly wouldn’t either.
Fuck, if I’m to be mated to this curvy goddess of a woman, I need to let my superiors know at the S.E.A. Fated mates aren’t something we take lightly in the supernatural community. But more than that, I know that if I give in, if I were to claim her as my own, I’m sure that the mating heat to follow would knock us both out of commission for weeks.
There’s a reason one of the benefits to my job includes mating leave.
“Gage? Everything okay?” Her brows are furrowed slightly inward, and her big, whiskey-colored eyes are focused solely on my face.
I blink a couple times, trying to chase away the image in my head of fucking her every way imaginable. “Yeah. Why?”
“You were…growling.” She bites her dark-painted lip as she slips her hand from mine and leans back in her chair.
Shit. I don’t want to alienate her. “Just a busy head, I guess. Why don’t I go get us another round, and you man the table, make sure none of these miscreants steal it?”
She shakes her head. “I…I only wanted the one.” Shifting slightly, I watch her eyes scan the bar again. “I should probably call it a night anyway.”
“No. Don’t go. One more beer.”
She smiles as she stands, bending over to press a soft kiss to my cheek. “Thanks for sharing your table, Gage. I’ll see you around.”
The way her hips sashay out of the bar makes me think she has no intention of ever seeing me again.
No matter. My panther doesn’t give up easily, and neither do I.
I down the rest of my soda and head to the bar, deciding one mortal strength Seven and Seven won’t kill me or detract from my ability to do my job.
“Excuse me, you’re Gage, right? The enforcer for the S.E.A.?” A wolf walks up to me, looking almost nervous to be in my presence.
Good. I like it when the other supernaturals have a bit of fear for the S.E.A. Makes my job easier.
“That’s me. What can I do for you?” He seems like a younger shifter, probably not much older than twenty-five. Although it’s damn hard sometimes to tell, with how long we can live for.
He pulls money out for my drink and passes it to the bartender before I can argue. “I’m Tyler Jackson. I work with a bounty hunter here in town, and I think…” He pauses and points back at my table, which is still vacant. “Can we talk somewhere a little less busy?”
“Kid, you’re surrounded by shifters. Only place we’re going to get some privacy in here is the john. If we’re lucky.” I smirk. “And you’re just not my type.”
Then it hits me. Tyler Jackson. He’s the wolf shifter who got found in the mortal foster care system, hiding his abilities, cowering every full moon, as if he were afraid he’d turn into a monster and kill everyone he knew.
Of course, he doesn’t know much about our kind.
Downing the full glass in one long swig, I drop it back on the bar surface and sigh. “Let’s go outside.”
I don’t wait to see if he’ll follow. Instead, I just make my way to the back alley and find a spot near the giant air conditioning units. They won’t kill all the sound from our conversation, if someone really wants to listen in, but it’s enough to keep the casual observe
r at bay.
Tyler looks around nervously before he leans against the wall.
“Well?” I have a few more questions for the kid, like why a shifter’s wearing glasses, but I don’t know him well enough to pry into his business. Whatever his reasons, they can stay his own.
“I work with a bounty hunter. A man named Eranear Mathis popped up on the wire this morning, and I don’t think he’s human.”
“Fuck.” I growl, a sound echoed by my panther. “Someone put you up to this? If this is a trick, Kid, I’m not biting.”
He pulls out his phone, and a second later Eranear’s face fills the screen. “You don’t have to believe me, but my very mortal partner has him in her sights like she’s just found her white whale and a unicorn all rolled into one. He was here last night, at Molly’s, and something about him didn’t smell right.”
I laugh. “Of course, it didn’t. That demon’s an incubus. Smelled like brimstone, am I right? Mixed with something that made your wolf want to go rub up against him?”
Tyler’s brow furrows. “How did you know?”
How did I know? Fuck, this kid’s greener than green. “Whatever you do, keep your partner off his trail. He’ll blow through town, leave a trail of exhausted, oversexed people behind, and be on his way. No reason to let someone you work with get hurt. Not for the likes of him.” I read over the report a little closer and scowl. “If anyone’s going to take him down, it won’t be the mortal police. I’ll report it to the S.E.A., see what they have to say about it.”
“Ryanne won’t back down easy from this. Any tips on keeping her off his trail?” He sighs. “She always jokes she never misses, and honestly, she really doesn’t. I need her to, this time.”
Ryanne’s a bounty hunter? Well, fuck me. I could sense she had some law in her, but that’s about the most rogue law she could manage. And the most dangerous, if all she’s got watching her back is a wolf pup too scared of his own beast to really let loose. “Talk to Molly, she might have a spell or two to confound a mortal. If that doesn’t work, get her out of town. Send her on a hunt anywhere but here. Tell her you got wind of him in Chicago, New York. Ibiza for all I care. Just keep her away from Eranear.”
“Molly? Why?”
“Do you know anything, wolf? She’s a witch. How do you think this crowd manages to get drunk once a month on the premises?” I shake my head. “You got a card, Kid? You need a crash course if you’re going to live in St. Cloud.” Clueless shifters are as dangerous as Eranear.
“I’ve had one.” Tyler snarls, and his eyes start to glow, even though they maintain their mismatched color. “Just because I don’t keep up with every supernatural thing that comes into my life with the same rigor you do doesn’t mean I’m a kid, or that I’m ignorant about my own kind.”
The fire and rage he spits at me is refreshing, proof that at least in times of crisis, he’s not afraid to let his wolf out to play. The way he refuses to back down, to show submission, even though I’m older, stronger, and more of an alpha than I’d bet he could ever be, is more amusing than it is rage inducing.
Which is good for Tyler.
“Watch who you snarl at, Kid. Not every shifter in this bar would take so kindly to being challenged. You’re lucky I don’t wrap my position in this world around how dominant I am.” I cross my arms over my chest, holding his gaze in mine. “I’m not going to get into a pissing contest with you. You want to challenge someone, I’m sure there are plenty of takers in the bar who would be more than happy to send you home in a body bag.”
Tyler’s wolf backs down as his eyes lose their glow and his teeth and claws retract. “Okay, so maybe I still have a thing or two to learn about being a shifter.” He leans against the wall again and kicks at a spot on the ground. “Tell me, if Ryanne sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong, if I can’t get her off Eranear’s trail, what happens?”
“If she’s lucky, she gets enthralled by the incubus. He feasts on her pleasure, and when her body can’t take any more, he leaves her somewhere to be found and rehydrated and nourished.” I sigh. “If not, if she gets in the way of the S.E.A., she gets taken down. No matter how hard we have to hit.”
It’s one of the hardest parts of my job. I don’t accept human or supernatural casualties easily.
I don’t know that I could pull the metaphorical trigger on Ryanne. Not with the way her scent still lingers in my nose, the way just thinking about her makes my panther purr.
“Get her out of here. Do whatever you have to.” I reach into my pocket and pull a card out of my wallet. “If you need help faking a trail, call me.”
Leaving Tyler in the alley, I head back into Molly’s Place, trying to figure out how I’m going to manage to hunt an incubus with Ryanne’s spell holding onto my panther in a tight grip.
Stalkers and Scavengers
RYANNE
I know I should go home, get some sleep, and start on a fresh plan in the morning.
Hell, seeing Tyler at the bar was almost enough to send me running home before I even got a chance to survey the place.
But if I’d done that, I wouldn’t have gotten to meet Gage.
There’s something up with that man, I just know it. He had too many secrets in his hazel eyes, too much seriousness in his body to keep a keen bounty hunter’s interest from moving on to another.
And what’s with the group? The “family reunion” as he’d called it.
Last I checked, the only families that come with that much diversity are foster families or made families that didn’t follow the norm of society.
I pull open my computer’s web browser and search for Molly’s Place first, hoping her website keeps a calendar of events, something to clue me in on what sort of clientele filled the bar tonight.
When that comes up empty, I pull up my law enforcement database, hoping to get a hit on Gage.
He’s not a criminal. I’d be able to smell it on him.
But with the dark, almost black button up, tucked in, and the dark wash jeans without any tears or rips in them, I wouldn’t put him past being law.
If only I’d thought to get a last name. But asking for more information only leads to having to share information about myself, and if he does work for law enforcement, I don’t want to know what sort of stuff he’d try to dig up.
Gage is handsome though. Older than I usually go for. Not that I usually go for anyone.
As I type everything I know about the man into the system, trying to get a lock on him, I think about the strange variety of clientele in Molly’s tonight. It’s lucky too that Tyler didn’t notice me. He’s my best friend, or the closest thing I’ve ever had to one, and even if Eranear had been there, and I did collect the bounty on him, I’m not sure Tyler would’ve seen it as a boon. For the business or our friendship.
My search engines come up dry, and with a sigh I lean back in my chair and stare up at the drop panel ceiling.
I feel too on edge to go home and sleep, and the one beer I got at Molly’s isn’t nearly enough to put the noise in my head to bed. I could go back, have another couple of drinks, and hope that the family reunion cleared out.
Or I could grab the bottle of bourbon I keep in the filing cabinet and have a little party all alone.
Justifying the solo drinking, I tell myself it’s just because Tyler might still be there. Or that Gage might be.
If it’s Tyler, I know all I’d do is make a terrible wing woman for him.
If it’s Gage…I’d probably end up doing something I regret. Or something that leaves me less than satisfied.
Carrying the bourbon over to the couch against the wall, the one Tyler insisted we get, I slump down and think about my sorry state of affairs.
Sometimes I think I should just load my car up with everything that fits in the trunk, rent a trailer to pull my bike, and find somewhere new, someplace that doesn’t feel like the last stop on the world’s worst home tour. It wouldn’t be such a bad idea if it weren’t for Tyler.
; The boy’s too good with computers for his own good. I’m no slouch, and usually I can track credit cards and find the paper trail that leads to a skip almost as fast as he does. But he finds patterns, sees information, in a way that I can’t, and when our bounty is someone with more than two brain cells to rub together, there’s no one better.
It’s why we make such a good team.
And why I can never fully be free of him.
I tried, once. Ran to Chicago, used only cash, stayed off the radar.
And still, he found me using a grainy photo captured on a self-checkout machine.
Hell, even if I could physically get away, he still wouldn’t leave me alone. Sometimes, I swear he’s set up a little camp for himself in my heart, a place that no amount of bourbon, no amount of surly snark or snappy attitude could chase him from.
With a swig straight from the bottle, I flop back and stare up at the ceiling again.
Tyler’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family. Or a boyfriend. I don’t know what my life would be without him.
Sighing, I get up and check the locks on the door and windows before I turn off the light and try to settle in for sleep on the seldom used couch. I doubt it’ll be anywhere as comfortable as Tyler’s bed was last night, but with as busy as my head is, and as strong as the bourbon is, I wouldn’t anticipate good sleep even if I had the most comfortable bed in the world.
I wake to a pain in my neck from sleeping at an incredibly awkward angle all night. Whoever designed couches that aren’t meant to be slept on should suffer this pain.
Glancing up at the decorative clock hanging on the wall, I realize it’s still early, but now that I’m awake, there won’t be any going back to sleep.
Instead, I write a note for Tyler and stick it to his monitor before heading out to find breakfast and as much cheap coffee as I can get my hands on.
Even though it’s Sunday, I have no doubt Tyler will show up at the office at some point today. And when he does, we can get started on this Eranear Mathis case in earnest.