He whistled a catcall as he stood, folding the paper neatly under his arm. “Hold on a minute. We’re only trying to dismay this sot so he gives us information, not render him useless with desire.” Danny grinned.
“Give me a break.” I laughed. “I’m not trying to render anyone useless. If he’s as tough as everyone says, I hardly think he’ll be swayed to the point of silly by a black pantsuit.”
I’d actually chosen my outfit with care, knowing I’d be able to hide the weapons I might need with relative ease. The pantsuit was a tailored number. The bodice was tight across the middle, but cut loose enough in the sleeves to hide the two Bo-Kri throwing knives I had strapped to each arm.
The accompanying pants were snug at the waistline, but the flared legs concealed a small holster for my Glock, and a particularly evil-looking dirk. This time I was arming myself with as much as I could. I wasn’t going up against a known killer without adequate protection. I pinned my hair up in a chignon instead of a ponytail, the outfit carried an air of don’t-mess-with-me professionalism.
“Then you don’t know men,” Danny answered. “If you wore that pantsuit any better, I’d have to have you bloody arrested myself.” He came closer, leaning his head toward me. “Is that a wee bit of white lace I see peeking out of your very ample cleavage?”
“It’s called a camisole.” I snorted. “And for your information, it’s completely necessary with this outfit.”
“I’m certain it is, luv.” Danny chuckled. “Pairing that suit with anything less would be a complete travesty.”
“It only has a dusting of lace,” I said as I walked over to my purse. “Now get your pretty mind out of the gutter, Danny Walker, and let’s get out of here. I want to do some reconnaissance at the bar to get a better feel for the area before the meet.”
“Whatever you say. I’d follow that outfit anywhere.”
The bar was a relatively new hot spot, fairly close to my apartment building. Every Tuesday night, it seemed, they hosted an extended happy hour, so it was already hopping by the time we arrived. Minnesotans were notoriously after-work-happy-hour kind of people. For the most part, we liked to be home and tucked in by ten, and there was nothing like cheap drinks to lure out the masses.
Tyler met us across the street, handing me a button vibrator immediately. “We have every entry point covered within a two-block radius, and Nick is parked behind the bar. He’s got the other piece.” He nodded at the button. “But remember, now we have this”—he tapped his temple—“so you can let me know what’s happening immediately. I’ll be in close range, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Whatever you do, Jess, don’t leave the bar with him. Understand? He’s dangerous as hell, and completely unpredictable.”
“Got it.” I slid the panic button into my suit jacket pocket. “I’m not interested in finding any more trouble, Tyler. No need to worry about me, I’m all over the plan. Have you decided to stake the inside?” It’d been discussed but not determined.
“Nope, I decided it was too risky. If Rourke gets one whiff of wolf on the inside he may decide to cut and run,” Tyler said. “The plan is to track him when he leaves. But he’s a quick bastard, so I’m only giving us one-in-three odds of keeping a tail on him at all. You have to pump as much information as you can while you’re with him.”
I nodded. “My sole purpose is to gain information. I want to know where this threat is coming from. I’m not expecting him to divulge much, but anything we can get will be more than we have right now.”
“It’s not his style to snatch you here anyway, but keep your head up. You have to stay alert at all times.” Tyler ran a hand along the back of his neck. He was agitated. “Man, I don’t like it. I want to know what this guy is up to.”
“I don’t like it either.” Danny frowned. “This man is a known killer.”
“I know we can handle it,” I said. “And remember, if I don’t meet him, he comes to me. I don’t want a highly trained killer sneaking through my broken sliding glass door. My quota this month for nasty break-ins is passed its full mark.”
“I still don’t like it,” Tyler grumbled. “Something feels off.”
“Have either of you ever seen Rourke in person?” I asked curiously.
“Nope, he was around before my time,” Tyler said.
“No,” Danny added. “But I’ve heard my fill about the wanker.”
“Do you actually believe all the rumors?” I asked. “Some of the stories about Connor Dade are so outlandish. Tying people up by their entrails? Severed body parts spelling out words? Some of that has to be fiction. It’s just too creepy to be true.” It was common for mercs to inflate their profiles—plant stories to make them seem worse than they were. Fear went a long way in keeping yourself on top, and it sounded like Rourke had plenty of years behind him to do just that. If nobody ever saw him, it would be easy to fabricate stories of grandeur.
Tyler grunted. “I don’t need to believe any of the stories. I’ve seen pictures.”
“What pictures?” I asked.
“Of some of his kills.”
“Where did you get a hold of pictures?” I made a face. “How do you know they were his?”
“Doesn’t matter. The man’s a brutal-ass bastard.” Tyler folded his arms.
“Hmm,” I said. “Sounds a little unsubstantiated to me. I could hand you any photo I wanted and give you a good story. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“I’ve seen glimpses of the pictures too,” Danny said, ignoring me. “In one, the dead bloke was missing all his fingers. Every one of them had been cut down to the nubbin, each to a different knuckle. And on the middle stump he left a finger puppet behind.”
“What kind of finger puppet?” I asked out of grotesque curiosity.
“The bloke’s own nose with a smiley face drawn on it.”
Jesus.
The restaurant was covered in sleek, hard lines, and the walls were coated with dark paint. The lighting was minimal, giving it a calming ambiance, and it was packed to the brim.
I pushed my way through people waiting for tables and veered left toward the bar. We hadn’t specified dining options, but I figured the bar would be the best place to check first.
Is he there? Tyler asked in my mind. He was on edge. None of the wolves had scented a fresh supe trail anywhere around the building. If he was here, the cat had snuck in without the wolves knowing. And no one was happy about it.
Gimme a minute. I just got in here. My wolf was on high alert. As I worked my way through the crowd, I scanned the room for possibilities.
Then I spotted a lone shape at the end of the bar. He was huge, so it was a likely pick. He was clad in a black leather jacket, his forearms splayed casually on the bar, a tall draft beer sitting between them. The well-worn leather he wore was in stark contrast to the yuppie dress clothes around us.
I wove my way toward him slowly. I think I have him.
Be careful. If it’s him, ask him how the fuck he got there without us knowing, Tyler griped.
First things first, little brother.
His guy’s head was angled down, but as I eased closer, it swiveled without hesitation in my direction.
His eyes lit on me.
Then he smiled.
My stride hitched momentarily. Holy Christ. That can’t be Rourke. I recovered myself by the next step, thankfully.
What? What do you mean? Tyler asked.
Um. Nothing, it’s just … he’s not what I was expecting a killer to look like. This man oozed power, it was true, but he was beautiful. Honey-colored hair brushed his collar in the back, and he had a set of the clearest eyes I’d ever seen. Even from a distance, I could see they were ringed in a sliver of deep green. They were completely breathtaking, and most definitely not on any normal color chart.
Snort. Who cares if he doesn’t look like a killer, just be sure—
Tyler, I have to go. I’ll get back to you. I cut him off with a single thought.
Rourke’s gaze inte
nsified as I came closer. I blinked a few times, but refused to look away. I slid onto the empty barstool next to him and sat down without being asked.
He appraised me with open curiosity. More than a hint of humor flashed behind those ridiculously gorgeous eyes. Up close his skin was flawless, tanned deeply from the sun. He had a short blanket of blond stubble running over a defined chin.
So not what I was expecting.
His power vibrated around me, sending little pinpricks of energy into my skin. It came from somewhere deep inside him, I could sense that much. He was old, there was no question. Power like that took a long time to accumulate.
“Hello, Rourke,” I said, taking in my first full breath of him. I almost choked as my nails shot into the underside of the bar to steady myself. Hoooooly shit. My wolf started barking incessantly. Quiet, I can’t think. Be quiet!
He smelled like the woods, like I’d originally guessed, but there was no fresh-cut grass about him. What emanated from him was thick, dark, and rich, like some kind of molasses mixed with cloves. Its deliciousness made it hard for me to concentrate. My wolf was still yipping excitedly. You have to calm down. We look completely unprofessional and he’s not going to take me seriously if we keep this up. Get a grip. She quieted begrudgingly so I could get down to business.
Rourke shifted in his seat slightly, turning his body to face mine. He gave me an unabashed once-over without uttering a word. By the amused expression on his face—a lazy grin highlighting two faint dimples—he recognized my distress, indicating that this kind of reaction to him was par for the course.
“Pompous ass” came to mind.
He caught me off guard by extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Hannon. Your reputation for being the best in the business precedes you.” His voice held the same deep bravado I remembered and a tingle wound its way up my spine. The accent was more discernible in person, but I still couldn’t place it. Possibly South African?
I contemplated shaking his outstretched hand. Or not shaking it. I’d already lost valuable street cred by acting like a babbling teenager, so I grabbed on to his hand and was rewarded with a jolt of power up my arm. Dammit. I clenched my teeth and tried to ignore it. I couldn’t risk any more foolishness. “If my reputation precedes me, then let’s cut the shit, Rourke. There’s no need to keep the act going. I know you know who I am.” I was going with bad cop. It usually worked in my favor. Nick was good cop. “I’m just not exactly sure why you’re here and what you’re looking for, which is why I decided to keep our meeting tonight.” I lowered my voice. “Why exactly are you here, Rourke?”
Mild surprise shot through his expression. “No beating around the bush for you, huh, sweetheart?” He took a swig of his drink and placed it in front of him. Then he settled his full, clear gaze on me again.
Holy balls.
He had to quit doing that. All the hairs on my arms rose to attention and my wolf had taken to constant whining. Before he looked away, I saw an almost imperceptible tiny green spark in the depth of one of his irises. Interesting. I cleared my throat. “Why would I want to beat around the bush? It’s a waste of time. And you haven’t answered my question yet, so I’ll ask it again. Why are you here?”
“You already know why I’m here.”
“Do you honestly think I’d be sitting here if I knew?” I cocked my head, making my own show of giving him a once-over. “I’m assuming you’re not going to break my neck in front of the after-work crowd at dinnertime, but other than that, your sudden appearance in this city is unclear. No more circles, Rourke. I want to know exactly why you’re here.” I tapped my index finger on top of the bar to emphasize my point. “Right here, right now. With me.”
He waited before answering. Then he leaned forward, his huge leather-clad arms brushing my fingertips. “I’m here, beautiful, because I was hired by an extremely interested party to retrieve all the information possible, and by whatever means necessary”—his voice lowered to a soft, gravelly purr—“about the only female werewolf in town.”
I sucked in a breath.
Motherfucker. “Are you implying I’m a werewolf?” I gave a caustic laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You may have me a bit confused with being the daughter of a werewolf, which I am, as you well know.” I wasn’t worried about being overheard. The noise level in the bar was enough to cover the conversation. The fact that Rourke knew I was a wolf was more than a bit staggering. “Your employer must have their facts wrong.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
I folded my arms across my chest and slapped on a pissy expression.
When he was done with his fit of mirth, he motioned for the bartender. “Bring us a round.” He held up two fingers. He turned back to me, his eyes still crinkled at the corners. “Listen, even if I hadn’t heard it with my own two ears, on good authority, I’d still have known you were a wolf from the moment you walked through those doors. Your power climbed up my skin like a bad rash, and your scent is so powerful, I’m surprised these humans around us”—he jerked his thumb absentmindedly—“aren’t coming up to congratulate you on your recent change.”
Harrumph. “Very funny.” I narrowed my eyes. “Now you get to tell me how you got your hands on this very secret and extremely unsubstantiated information in such a short amount of time.”
“A pro never divulges his sources.” He winked. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
I leaned forward in my seat. “You’re kidding me, right? Then why meet me here at all? Why tell me your real name? If you’re so notorious, why didn’t you just take what you wanted by force? Isn’t that your usual mode of operation: snatch and grab and ask questions later? Instead, we’re sitting here—at your request—so we can … what? Chat about the fucking score of a ball game? You came to me, remember?”
I might have glimpsed some grudging respect, but it could’ve just as easily been annoyance. A low growl issued from his chest as his features dropped their playfulness. The predator was lurking just below the surface. I would do well to remember it. “I knew your father long ago.”
I waited for more, but nothing came.
“So I heard. So what? You’re supposed to be a ruthless badass, why would you respect an ancient connection to my father now?”
“Because your father is deserving of great respect.”
“Respect enough to kidnap his daughter?”
“My job is not to kidnap you.”
“Then why the hell—”
Two things happened very quickly.
One, Rourke pushed back his barstool and jumped to his feet. Two, Tyler came screaming into my brain. Jess, you have to get out! Now! This is a setup of some kind. Goddamn—he was breaking up—Southern … all fighting … get the fuck … out …
Tyler! What’s going on? I don’t understand? Answer me! I sprang from my seat, but I had no room to move. I was stuck in the small space between my stool and Rourke, who was now emitting a very lethal snarl over the top of my head.
No answer from Tyler. Goddammit, answer me!
I twisted by body around to see what Rourke focused on.
Five werewolves I’d never seen before were weaving menacingly through the crowded bar. Their combined scent of aggression hit me as my wolf howled in rage. Adrenaline shot through me lickety-split. I knew what was coming next. Wait, wait! I told her. We can’t change in here, and we can’t take all those wolves alone! I had no time to reason with her. My fingertips pulsed close to the tip, my muscles starting their telltale dance under my skin. Just wait a min—
Something grabbed me from behind and I landed hard.
I glanced up and found Rourke glaring down at me, his features twisted furiously, his hands gripping my wrists like steel cuffs. His eyes shone like two diamonds, veins of green blazing across his irises like an electric storm. “I gave you that one”—he jerked his head behind him, snarling savagely—“but trying to get a jump on me was the wrong choice, sweeth
eart. It seems you haven’t done your homework on me after all. I don’t play nice. Now you’re going to have to say goodbye to all your buddies.”
“What are you talking about? What one?” I stood on my tiptoes and peered around his massive shoulder to see what he was talking about, and surprisingly saw James closing the gap behind us quickly. I hadn’t even known he was here. “Rourke, we’re not jumping you. I’ve—”
Rourke’s hot breath cut me off as it landed firmly in my ear. It wasn’t above a whisper, but I could hear it perfectly. “This deal is changing. I tried to play fair with you, but now your options are officially up. I don’t give out second chances.”
My anger, fueled by a hardy dose of my wolf, surged inside me. “Get your hands off me,” I spat. “Deal with this, asshole. I have no idea who those wolves are coming at us. And if you knew anything about my father and the way he operates, then you already know putting a jump on you isn’t his style. Now, if you’re interested in continuing our little chat where we left off, as planned, then stop this posturing bullshit and help me take out this threat.” Before he could respond, I finished bitterly, “And if that’s not enough of an incentive”—I pressed my fingernail into his chest—“I’m certain your employer would like it if I remained alive so you can continue to extract your much-needed information.”
Rourke’s eyes widened. Not from my harsh words but most likely from my eyes, which I could feel were sparking violet. It didn’t matter. Aligning myself so quickly with Rourke might be a mistake, but my gut, which was almost entirely made up of a grouchy she-wolf, was telling me the greater threat to us was the wolves who were almost on us.
I’d made my choice, now I had to live with it.
Instead of responding, Rourke whipped his torso around and took James by the throat in the time it took me to blink. “What the hell is going on, Irish?” Rourke growled. “Trying to take me here was the wrong choice, and you know it. I let you in here out of respect for Callum, but it ends right here, right now.”
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