by Dana Lyons
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
She twitched her lips, thinking. “Not sure.”
“We could have sex.” He grabbed her hand, grinning with a good-natured toothy display.
Laughter burst free from her chest. He was so handsome with his bright eyes and smile, she wanted to say yes. But she had a different stop to make. “When I get stuck on a case, I like to work up a diversion.”
He pulled back to give her the eye. “You already went shooting. You don’t want sex. Hmmm. That leaves only one thing I can think of.”
“Yep.” She nodded vigorously.
“I don’t suppose you’d let me take you somewhere nice?”
She wrinkled her nose and waved off his suggestion with her free hand. “That’s not the proper ambiance. I need a certain ‘tude.” She circled her hand. “A certain air to season the brain and get my mind off our killer.”
“Have a place in mind?”
“How about Harley’s, out by the river?”
He pulled a grimace. “Oh, you do need out. Okay. Get dressed.”
She put on her black skinny jeans and a cotton top, short boots, leather jacket, and grabbed her sunglasses.
Rhys eyed her up and down before slipping on his own shades. “Okay, here we go.” On the drive over, he asked, “Why this particular establishment?”
“They’re the only bar in town that serves real mescal.”
At the bar, he got out of the car first. She knew he was scanning the area, for the neighborhood wasn’t the best. As she got out, loud voices erupted in the alley by the bar’s back door. A man was roughing up a woman. Dreya reached for her gun before realizing she didn’t bring it.
Can’t pack a gun while drinking.
She glanced at Rhys. He shook his head. “Just go inside. I’ll call it in.”
Nobility demanded she intervene on the woman’s behalf; reality agreed with Rhys. She studied the man and memorized his face, in case there was a next time.
Inside, they sat at the bar so they could see anyone approaching their backs in the mirrored liquor shelf. She flagged the bartender and said, “Mescal.”
“Water,” Rhys ordered. “I’m on detail.”
She glanced at his coat and saw he’d brought his weapon.
The mescal went down nice, giving her a focus besides their killer. She took another shot, relishing the burn, eschewing the nonsense of lime and salt. Not with real mescal.
Someone put money in the juke box and music started up with a Patsy Cline tune. She grabbed Rhys’ hand. “Dance with me.” She took another shot before he pulled her off to the side where they danced among empty tables.
He was big and warm and strong and she clung to him, enjoying his scent with her cheek on his chest. They shuffled through a close step, reminding her of her first dance at the school gym. Only, unlike that long-ago date, Rhys was tall and smelled good, and that hair kept falling in his eyes.
If he kissed her, she would melt in his arms.
Mescal talking.
That’s okay, she argued.
More mescal came, and more music. Having him hold her in his arms was heaven. They took a break and returned to their seats at the bar. “Order me another shot,” she said. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
He glanced around and eyed the bathroom door; she thought he might escort her. “I’m okay. I think I’m safe enough here. Besides, the mescal’s given me a little kick-ass ‘tude.”
“That’s what worries me.” He glanced at his watch. “Don’t be gone long; you’re on the clock.”
“Oh, great,” she moaned. “Nothing like a time limit to help a girl go pee.” She sipped his water and winked.
In the bathroom, she peed and washed her hands. She splashed water on her face and studied her reflection in the mirror, always conscientious about her freaky eyes. The mescal relaxed her with a nice buzz, and the music and dancing with Rhys was fun. “Not enough fun in your life,” she admonished her reflection.
At the bar, she slid onto her seat, feeling the beat of the next song. “More?” she asked Rhys, and nodded towards their ‘dance floor’.
“My turn to go to the bathroom. Don’t go anywhere. Promise?”
“Promise,” she answered with a sharp salute. “Aye, aye, sir.” She snickered, adding, “And you’re on the clock, too.”
He gave her the fake evil eye and walked off. She chuckled and turned back to her mescal. In the mirror, she noticed the man from the alley incident walk in. He glanced about the room, spotted her, and came straight over.
“Hey, baby, how about some company?” He grabbed her left butt cheek and rubbed his crotch against her leg, letting her know he already had a hard on. “I’m in the mood, baby. How about you?” he whispered against her neck.
His hot breath washed against her face, but she ignored him and sipped her mescal, enjoying the fiery liquid as it slid over her tongue. In her mind, Nobility was nudging her to act. In her heart, a desire was gaining traction to make someone pay for women like Haley, and Tanya, and the woman in the alley.
She set her shot glass down and turned to him. “You’re not very smart, are you?” He pulled back, exactly as she wanted. And he responded exactly as she expected.
“What do you mean?” he challenged.
“I mean you can’t even spot trouble when you’re standing next to it.” She eased both feet off the bar stool and stood facing him.
He gazed down on her with incomprehension until he finally realized she’d called him stupid. When he stepped back and opened his mouth, she jabbed him in both eyes. When his hands came up to his face, she grabbed him by his shoulders.
Fast and hard, she brought his head down onto her raised knee. Double step, slam again, double step and she power slammed him a third time. For good measure, she stepped back and brought his face down once more, even though she knew his nose broke on the second strike. A hip-twist and she dropped him with a chop to the back of the neck. He hit the floor, out cold.
She brushed off her jeans and grabbed a napkin to blot some of the blood from her pants before reclaiming her seat. Another customer came to the bar next to her. He stepped over the man on the floor and leaned his elbows on the bar, casually signaling the bartender. “Nice job,” he said, motioning to the man on the floor.
She turned to him and smiled with a heady rush of victory after a long week of defeat. “He did ask if I was in the mood. Unfortunately for him, I was.”
“Yeah,” the bartender said, giving the customer his drink. “He’s a local bully. I call the cops on him twice a week, but they never show. I’ll drag him into the alley. Maybe he’ll crawl off.”
The customer tipped his drink to her and moved off to a table in the corner.
Dreya accepted a shot of mescal on the house and nursed it as Rhys returned from the bathroom. She jacked an eyebrow. “Took you long enough, Rhys.”
“I was gone all of five minutes.” He eyed her with a frown of suspicion. “What did you do? Where’s the bartender?”
“He had to take out the trash.” She laughed and tossed money on the bar. “Now, you can take me to a nice place to eat.”
“But you’re drunk now,” he complained, his words belied by the light of humor on his face. He slipped an arm around her and helped guide her through the door. She giggled all the way out.
After they left, Martin nursed his drink from his seat in the corner. “She is most definitely exceptional. And that’s why she’s the one.”
He left money on the table and walked out, humming.
7
Voices came, pulling Dreya into consciousness. Dimly, she heard Rhys, Simon, and Quinn having an intense discussion from the front room. Peaks of emotion threatened to break into her mind, but she pushed them away.
Simon’s voice rose. “How did you not see this? There’s blood on the knees of her jeans. Did she fall and get hurt?”
Rhys’ defensive face rose in her mind. She could see him going all serious as he
protested.
“Drunk as a skunk, but she never fell.”
She squelched a snort threatening to burst loose.
I was not drunk as a skunk … well, maybe half a skunk.
Quinn chimed in. “It’s just the knees. Looks to me like she broke someone’s nose.”
That’s my boy. Can’t pull much over his pretty eyes.
She imagined Simon clutching her soiled black jeans. A snicker bubbled up. Yep. The guy with bad manners definitely has a splint on his nose today.
“Five minutes,” Rhys argued. “I went to the bathroom for five minutes.”
Full-blown giggles were building. Rhys would scowl as he wondered what she did in his absence at the bar.
“You left her alone?” Simon asked, blatant disapproval inflating his words. His voice rose but he was shushed.
Ah, she thought. Rhys will puff up his chest, and throw his shoulders back—
“You want me to handcuff her and take her in the men’s room with me?” Rhys proclaimed.
This inspired another snort. She raised a hand to muffle her laughter.
“I see your point,” Simon relented.
“Uh huh,” Rhys grunted.
A stretch of silence followed. Quinn asked, “I wonder who got their ass kicked?”
She loved late weekend mornings and stretched full length in the bed, luxuriating in the freedom of movement. A little mescal, a little dancing, a little ass-kicking; nothing like a bar fight to perk a girl up. She rose and peeked out the bedroom door.
“There’s our princess,” Simon greeted. “How do you feel?”
“Much better,” she admitted as she came out and sat on the couch with her feet tucked under her. She yawned and pushed her hair out of her face. “So, what do you guys want to do today?”
“Hold on, sister,” Simon interrupted. “Is there something you’d like to tell us?”
Enjoying the game, she lifted her shoulders with total false innocence. “About?”
Rhys did his best to rouse appropriate indignation, but there was too much pride in his eye. “About whose ass did you kick? Or rather, whose face did you break yesterday at Harley’s while I was in the bathroom?”
“Oh. The guy, you know, the dick from the ally, came in and was stupid enough to hit on me.” She rolled her eyes. “He rubbed his crotch on me and asked if I was in the mood. I had a mescal buzz, and that’s the story. The bartender said the cops never come when he calls, and even one of the patrons applauded me.”
“You could have gotten hurt,” Simon started.
Quinn nudged him in the ribs. “You haven’t seen her military jacket, have you?”
“I was in no danger,” she said. “Especially not from this fool. So, yeah, I broke a face yesterday, and Nobility never complained. Speaking of yesterday, how did it go with Melissa?”
“You were part right,” Quinn said. “She was happy to ride all the way out there with us for company.”
“Was there a property to see?”
Simon laughed. “Yeah. Only thirty-five thousand a month.”
“But there were some nice woods and space.” Quinn’s voice faded off as his brow crinkled with wistful longing.
“Okay,” she said. “I have to get you guys out of the house, so get dressed; we’re going for a drive. Me first in the shower.” When they didn’t move, she rose and clapped her hands. “Come on, chop, chop. You want out, don’t you?” She lifted her eyebrows with expectation and suspense.
Rhys grabbed the keys to his car. “You heard the lady, Simon. Let’s go. Quinn, you’ve got detail.”
“But, where are we going?” Simon asked. “How do we dress?”
“Dress nice because I don’t ride with slobs. We’re going to eat lunch somewhere on our way to Big Woods. Over two thousand acres.”
“That’s a three-and-a-half-hour drive, at least.”
“One way. So, if you want to run the woods today, get moving.” She shooed them with her hands, but the gesture was unnecessary. Simon and Rhys shot out the door. Quinn ran into the bathroom and turned on the water. He came to collect her, shuffling her along. “Got the shower started for you. Here you go.”
For this excursion, they hit the road in record time, taking her Audi so they wouldn’t look like cops. Rhys drove, with Simon and Quinn in the back. She looked over the seat, admiring how handsome they were all spruced up, even in a hurry. They were exceptionally color coordinated this morning, and she wondered if they did so on purpose.
Today Rhys wore black, accenting his dark hair. With black jeans, a long-sleeve black shirt and black loafers, he was handsome as the devil.
Simon chose camel-colored slacks with a light gold shirt, perfectly accenting his long blond hair. Quinn wore dark grey jeans with a silver toned knit shirt making his eyes appear stormy.
The miles cruised by with music on the radio. Simon surprised them by singing a robust ACDC song. Quinn did a fine job lip syncing to an old 80s tune. Dreya laughed and shook her head, protesting no when they asked her to sing. “If you try and force me, I’ll draw my weapon, I swear.”
They found a nice Italian restaurant outside Richmond. A young woman waited on them, accompanied by another young woman, a bus boy, and a third woman.
“What’s going on,” Simon asked under his breath. “I’ve never seen so much wait staff for one table.”
Dreya had been reading the women. They were all in various states of bliss. The waitress was enthralled with Rhys, hovering over him. The second young woman had attached herself to Quinn, tip-toeing around him as though she floated, pouring his wine every two minutes. Dreya wiped her mouth, conscious of the bus boy flitting from her to Simon, as if he couldn’t make up his mind.
“It’s the Nobility effect,” she answered Simon when the waitress briefly stepped away. “I don’t think we notice it.” She glanced side to side and lowered her voice. “But you three are exceptionally gorgeous.”
“Huh,” Simon chortled. “Glad you think so.” Under the table his fingers crept over to hers and gave a quick squeeze.
The boys carbed-up on pasta and bread while she settled for soup and salad. As nice as the restaurant was, once finished with their meal, they jumped up, ready to go. “I got the bill,” Rhys said as they poured out the door laughing. Within minutes, they were on the highway heading for open space.
Finally, they reached the forest. “Map please,” Dreya asked the gate attendant. “What’s your most remote section?”
The girl in the brown park service uniform glanced in the back seat. “You folks don’t look dressed for remote,” she said as she handed Dreya the map.
“We just had a nice lunch. Hiking clothes are in the trunk,” Dreya answered. She passed the map back to the girl. “Will you please indicate those remote areas for me?”
The girl marked the map with a red pen, her lips clamped in a disapproving vise. “These are the areas I usually tell people not to go.” She thrust the map through the window as she mustered up a stern expression. “I urge you to stay away from those areas, and you go there only at your own risk. The park is not responsible for your reckless behavior.”
“Thank you.” Dreya smiled brightly, happy to get moving. From the backseat, excitement built like a tidal wave. Every turn deeper into the park kicked the anticipation a little higher.
Rhys pulled off the road and into the woods far enough to be out of sight. The Audi back doors flew open as Quinn and Simon jumped out, pulling off their clothes. Rhys placed the keys in her hand and gave her a swift kiss on the nose. “Love you. You’re a good alpha.” He got out and quickly dropped his clothes.
By the time she got out, they were already naked. Three exceptional male bodies were on display. Rhys’ wide shoulders; Simon’s muscular chest; Quinn’s tight buns and lean legs. She wanted to fall to her knees and thank God. Or Lazar—she wasn’t sure which.
They stood on an outcrop of rock overlooking a gorge. Before they took off, she reminded them, “I’m wearing the
watch, so come back when I call.”
Rhys jumped off the rock and dropped from view, making her breath catch in her throat before a draft lifted his bird form and he sailed off into the sky. Quinn transitioned and bounded into the trees with Simon right behind nipping at his heels.
Their impressions came through, swirling in her mind. Rhys’ bird view made her head feel tight; Simon and Quinn romped together, tearing through the trees at a dead run.
Be careful. No human contact.
As they fully expressed their animal DNA, an exhilaration more potent than any drug swept into her mind and brought hot tears rushing from her eyes. She put one hand to her head and the other to her chest, and rocked back on her heels with a sweet joy she hadn’t known existed.
How good life is with the pack.
She wiped her face and pushed their emotions from her mind. Like Nobility, control over the telepathy was a daily adventure. She collected their clothes and put them in the trunk of her car. After exchanging her dress pants and silk blouse for shorts and a tank top, she stepped out onto the rock.
The hillsides were mesmerizing, all washed in green as far as she could see, and the smell of pine in the hot afternoon was intoxicating. She lay back on the stone and enjoyed the gentle breeze filled with the scent of pine as the sun warmed her chest. The heat from the stone and the sun made her feel drowsy; she drifted into a light sleep.
Coming in, came from Rhys and she woke up as he landed next to her. The soft pad of feet followed with Hey princess. Quinn’s tail brushed her leg as he flopped down next to her. That was great.
The relief of getting outside to run and fly was palpable. They lay together on the rock until long shadows began cooling the air. She was thinking about what to have for dinner when, suddenly, a male voice shouted out. “Lady, be still, and don’t panic. I’ll call 911.”
Dreya sat up and glanced around, wondering what lady in the middle of nowhere needed to ‘not panic’. A man at the edge of the trees held his hand out towards her in warning. “Just stay calm. You’re surrounded by a cougar and a wolf. I’ll call for help.”
“Dammit,” she muttered.