by Paige Tyler
Stefan caught a nearby waitress’s eye and lifted his hand. The waitress immediately walked past Zane and over to the trio, a tray with two mixed drinks in her hand.
Zane’s inner werewolf growled as a pungent odor wafted from the glasses to sting his nose. Shit. This was a damn setup, and it was getting worse by the second.
“Something’s going down,” Zane said into his mic as Stefan handed a glass to each girl. “He’s drugging them—and those girls are brand new werewolves.”
“I knew that chucklefuck was up to no good,” Rachel muttered.
“Think he’s grabbing the girls for Curtis?” Diego asked. “Payback against werewolves or something?”
“There’s no way Stefan could know they’re werewolves,” Zane said. “I doubt they even know themselves yet. If he’s getting them for Curtis, it’s because they’re attractive women.”
The thought made Zane want to retch and he was heading for the table before he could take another breath. He couldn’t let Stefan slip those girls roofies—even if it meant blowing his cover.
Unfortunately, his planned rescue went to crap when the twin girls downed the drinks like they were lemonade. Biting back a snarl, he had no choice but to stop where he was and go with plan B—stand back and save the girls at the first opportunity that presented itself.
The twins started showing effects of the drug within minutes, which only made Zane more convinced they were brand-new werewolves. Drugs and alcohol didn’t affect werewolves. He watched their eyes getting glassy as they laughed at something Stefan said. Zane overheard him mention taking them to another party across town, one that’d have a lot of famous Hollywood movie stars and producers.
The twins exchanged looks, as if unsure whether to accept the invitation. But then one whispered in the other’s ear, and after a moment, they both nodded at Stefan. Instead of whisking them out of there, Stefan told them he needed to make a quick stop on the way and that his “personal security” would take them to the party.
The girls giggled and nodded, apparently thinking Stefan must be someone famous if he had bodyguards.
Stefan headed for the exit with one of his crew, leaving the other three guys there.
“Rachel and Diego, you stay with Stefan,” Zane said into his mic. “I’ll stick with the girls.”
“All three of those guys are big and packing heat,” Diego pointed out. “I’ll stay here with you.”
Zane ground his jaw. Before he’d gotten shot in the arm in that drive-by, Diego never would have suggested he needed backup. What Diego was subtly trying to say was that he didn’t think Zane could handle those three muscle heads on his own.
He resisted the urge to tell his pack mate to mind his own fucking business. They didn’t have time to argue. Besides, he knew Diego was only trying to have his back.
“Stefan is the whole damn reason we’re here,” Zane said. “He said he had to make a quick stop. Maybe he’s going to see Curtis. If there’s even a chance of that, we can’t let him out of our sight for a minute. You two go. I’m good here.”
There was a moment of silence over the radio, but then Diego grunted. “We’re on it. Be careful. And call us when you get the chance.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Zane saw his pack mates head for the exit, shadowing Stefan and his bodyguard. Zane breathed a sigh of relief. While everything he’d said about Rachel and Diego keeping an eye on Stefan was true, there was another reason he wanted them to stay together. He hated to even let his mind go there, but he wasn’t sure they could trust Rachel.
She’d shown up in Dallas right before the hunters attacked the SWAT compound. She’d immediately fit right in, but that night, she hadn’t taken a shot at one of the hunters when she’d had the chance, and the man had gotten away. Instead of telling SWAT commander Gage Dixon—their pack alpha—Zane figured he’d talk to her about it, then he, Rachel, and Diego had come out here and he hadn’t found a chance.
Zane knew he needed to find the time soon, because the more he was around Rachel, the more concerned he became. He’d caught her glancing over her shoulder more times than he could count, her heart thumping out of control like she thought someone was about to jump her. Other times, she’d stare off into space like her head was a million miles away. Zane didn’t know what trauma she’d gone through when she’d become a werewolf, but his gut told him she was dealing with some serious post-traumatic stress. He had enough experience with PTSD to know it when he saw it.
He turned his attention back to the two girls. The drug must have fully kicked in because they both looked really out of it.
Even as he focused all of his attention on them, a part of his head casually noted the same pleasant scent he’d picked up when he’d first come into the club. Only it was closer this time. It completely overshadowed the scent of the new werewolves, and Zane couldn’t remember ever smelling anything so delicious. It was almost enough to make him drool. He probably would have, too, if he didn’t have a job to do.
Over by the bar, the twin werewolves swayed a little on their feet. The same waitress who’d given them the drinks immediately rushed over, saying something about helping them to the restroom. The girls nodded, sudden panic in their eyes as they realized something was off.
The shorter and stockier of Stefan’s three bodyguards disappeared into the crowd, no doubt heading for their car, while the other two casually followed the waitress, maintaining their distance as the woman led the girls to the back of the club.
Zane had hoped to help the girls without completely blowing his cover, but he stopped giving a crap about that the moment the waitress led them away like sacrificial offerings. His fangs extended a little as he strode after them. He was going to save those werewolves, to hell with how much of a mess he made.
As he expected, the waitress led the twins past the restroom, steering them down a dark hallway, toward the back door. There was a metal click and a gust of fresh air—well, as fresh as it could be in a city like LA—as the woman opened it and urged the girls outside. The three men followed, closing it behind them.
Zane hit the door at a full run, slamming it open with his right hand and bursting into the alley. He immediately turned right, his nose telling him that was the way they’d gone.
The waitress was nowhere in sight now, but there was a big, black sedan parked fifteen feet away that the three men were stuffing the two girls into. The girls were little more than limp zombies now, neither putting up a fight of any kind.
Growling, Zane raced down the alley. When he reached the car, he grabbed the first jackass by the back of the neck, digging the claws of his right hand into the thick muscles there and yanking the man off his feet, then slinging him toward the building behind them. The thud when the guy slammed into the brick was incredibly satisfying, and Zane had a crazy urge to grab the guy and do it all over again.
Bloody hell. He was losing control of his inner werewolf. He hadn’t done that since he’d first turned into one. But the aggression, not to mention the growling, fangs, and claws, were seriously out of character for him.
Zane was so distracted he didn’t realize the other two wankers had pulled their guns and were pointing them at his chest. He wasn’t worried about getting shot. Nothing less than a bullet through the heart or one in the head would put a werewolf down. But still, getting shot wouldn’t feel good. Not only that, but the men would quickly figure out Zane wasn’t exactly human.
Not something he wanted their boss to know about, especially if Stefan was the one helping Curtis.
But as Zane took a step forward to close the gap between him and the two men with guns, he realized he didn’t have a choice. He could almost certainly take out one of them before the guy pulled the trigger, but he’d never deal with both in time. Not with his bum arm.
He prepared himself for the unpleasant sensation of a large copper-jacketed slug tearing through his body when a beautiful blond appeared from behind the car, quickly moving up behind the men like
a bloody ninja. She wrapped an arm around one man’s neck, flipping him over her hip and slamming him onto the pavement hard.
That was when Zane figured out she was the woman putting off that pleasant scent he’d picked up inside the club. Except now that he was close to her, he decided it was a lot more than pleasant. In fact, it was a yummy combination of cinnamon, chocolate, and roses.
Zane wanted to take a minute to figure out how she could smell like all of those things at once—and what she was doing out here in the alley—but the last asshole standing made up his mind about who to shoot first. Turning his weapon on Zane, he started to squeeze the trigger.
Bloody hell.
Perhaps he should stop drooling over the blond and do something before the guy shot him.
* * *
FBI Agent Alyssa Carson pegged the tall, good-looking, muscular guy with the dark, piercing eyes as a cop the moment she saw him. There was something about the way he carried himself. He had an aura of authority that screamed law enforcement. Then, when she saw him move across the dance floor, all animalistic grace and power, she started thinking maybe he was CIA or some other three-letter agency. Because he slipped through the crowd like a trained killer. Either way, she was stumped as to why someone like him would take a sudden interest in two random girls heading for trouble.
Alyssa doubted the man could be there for the same reason she was. To the best of her knowledge, Christine Howard, her friend in the LA FBI field office, was the only other law enforcement official in the state who knew about the case Alyssa was investigating. In fact, it had been Christine who’d called and told her about the three young women who’d gone missing two weeks ago.
Los Angeles was a city with a population of almost four million people. They disappeared at a terrifying rate there—so many that, after a while, it seemed like nothing more than a blur of pictures appearing and disappearing on a host of websites and the occasional billboard. But when the body of one of those missing women had been found in a landfill with a bizarre cause of death, Christine had called Alyssa. Because, unlike most people in the bureau, Christine knew Alyssa specialized in the strange and bizarre.
In fact, Alyssa was at the club tonight thanks to a rumor Christine had heard. It wasn’t much to go off of, mostly whispers suggesting the missing women might have been there around the time they disappeared. But it was all Alyssa had to go on, so she’d trusted her instincts.
When she’d seen the player in the expensive suit charming the two girls, she knew those instincts had been right. The way the man eyed them was creepy to say the least. Alyssa had no doubt the guy was planning to grab the girls. Considering he had four big Neanderthals with him, Mr. Creepy had all the help he needed to make it happen.
The guy she thought might be a cop seemed to figure that out, too. He didn’t seem too happy about it.
Is Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous also looking for the missing girls?
It seemed unlikely, but then again, those two young women at the club tonight definitely matched the profile—attractive and a little naive. No doubt, they were runaways from Small Town, USA, who’d come to LA to become famous.
Alyssa parked herself in a dark corner, so she could keep an eye on the situation and try to figure out exactly what was going on. She frowned as Mr. Creepy gestured a waitress over, one who already had a tray of drinks ready and waiting. That wasn’t suspicious at all, was it?
Within a few minutes, the twin girls were going glassy eyed, and it was obvious they’d been drugged. Damn, sometimes Alyssa hated that her instincts were so good. On the other hand, this was the break she’d been looking for. If these guys were the ones who’d grabbed the other women, maybe Alyssa could follow them and put an end to this before any more bodies found their way into the landfill with all the blood drained.
When Mr. Creepy left with one of his Neanderthals, Alyssa saw Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous look back and forth between the two girls and the rich guy, a torn expression on his face. Like he was trying to make a decision. Then his lips moved, like he was talking to himself. A moment later, she saw a man and woman on the far side of the club follow Mr. Creepy out the door. The pair moved with the same dangerous grace as Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous as they slipped through the crowd.
That’s when it hit her—Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous wasn’t there for the girls. He and his friends had been following Mr. Creepy. Not shocking, she supposed. If Mr. Creepy was making people disappear, he was probably doing other illegal crap as well.
But if Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous was there for Mr. Creepy, why hadn’t he gone with the rest of his team? Why was he ghosting down the back hallway, one-hundred-percent focused on the girls and the waitress herding them out of the building? Especially since it seemed like he didn’t have any other backup.
She didn’t have any backup, either. But who was keeping score?
Alyssa had to practically run to keep up as she heard the back door open and close. Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous might be big, but he was damn fast. A part of her realized her original plan to let the men grab the girls, then follow them was shot now. Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous was going to put himself right in the middle of everything and wreck any chance of tracking those Neanderthals anywhere.
But it wasn’t like she could stand by and let him do it on his own. The thought of him going up against those three men made her stomach twist up in a knot. Which was a little strange considering he was in the middle of mucking up her case.
Alyssa felt a tingle race up her spine as she quietly slipped out the back door. She had enough experience with weird to know when she saw it, and something weird was definitely about to go down.
She was already moving through the shadows when she saw Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous sling one of the Neanderthals through the air. The crunch as the man hit the brick wall was nearly deafening in the silence behind the club. Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous was big, no doubt about it, but so was the Neanderthal. No one should be able to toss someone around like that, no matter how strong they might be. And normal people didn’t growl, even in the middle of a fight.
Why did everything she got involved in have to turn out to be bizarre?
She put that thought from her mind when the guns came out. That’s when she realized Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous wasn’t carrying a weapon. Instead, he strode toward the other two Neanderthals like he planned to tear them apart with his bare hands.
Alyssa rolled her eyes. Another guy with more testosterone than brains.
She slipped from the shadows and around the back of the sedan, noticing that the twins were completely out of it now and slumped in the backseat in a boneless heap. That made things easier. At least they wouldn’t give away the element of surprise as she grabbed one of the men and flipped him over her hip. The moment he was on the ground, she pulled out the Sig Sauer holstered behind her back and thumped him in the temple with the butt of the weapon. Not hard enough to crack bone, but more than hard enough to put him out.
She spun around, bringing her gun up, knowing the other Neanderthal was probably already pulling the trigger on the big guy she felt a stupid need to protect.
Everything happened so fast. Which was crazy, since she’d been through enough training and real-life situations like this. But one second, the remaining Neanderthal had his weapon pointed straight at the big guy and the next, Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous…moved.
There was another growl, a flash of reflected light off some seriously intense eyes, then Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous knocked the man’s gun hand aside. After that, there were about a half dozen quick strikes she recognized as some kind of martial arts style. Part of her noted Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous barely moved his left arm, instead, doing all the damage with his right. It didn’t seem to matter as bones crunched and the gun went flying into the darkness.
Maybe he wasn’t a cop.
More like a soldier.
Or a trained killer.
Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous bounced the guy’s head off the side of the car door, then p
icked him up and tossed him into the same wall his buddy had crash tested. Yup. Brick was still tougher than human. Alyssa winced.
Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous spun around to look at her, his body taking on an aggressive stance. Alyssa instinctively brought her weapon up, only to have him grab it out of her hands before she even saw him move.
She rolled backward on the pavement, going for the backup piece holstered at her right ankle, dragging it out and jacking the slide back in one smooth motion. She brought it up straight and level, green night-sight dots aligning in the center of the man’s chest.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t shoot me,” he said in a deep voice.
Alyssa wasn’t sure what was more distracting, the way the words rumbled out of that muscular chest or the sinful British accent that made her think of some kind of decadent chocolate commercial.
“It would probably hurt,” he added.
She hesitated, making sure that none of the three Neanderthals were a threat before putting the weapon’s safety on and slipping it back in her ankle holster. She knew it was insane to approach a guy who clearly had danger written all over him without her weapon drawn, but her instincts were saying this was the way to go. Bottom line, she trusted her instincts more than her training.
“The thought of shooting you hadn’t entered my mind until you jerked my gun out of my hand,” she said. “Then I didn’t have a choice.”
“Sorry about that.” He held out his right hand, her Sig sitting casually in the middle of it. “I kind of did it without thinking. Bad habit of mine.”