Chasing The Night: Big Easy Shifters: Book Three

by Knox, Abby

  Gavin tried not to feel offended. “You’re like a tick on a dog’s ass today. Who has time to shower when I got people to find?”

  “I can’t have you showing up to my future mother-in-law’s house for brunch smelling like sex and freshly killed woodland creatures. Let’s go back to your place so you can shower,” Ash insisted, revving the car’s engine.

  Gavin shook his head and sipped his coffee as Ash drove the GTO down to Gavin’s place. “I was gonna go back to my apartment as soon as I woke up, but you had to show up acting like a hero I never asked for, trying to round us all up like a damn German shepherd. And I’ll tell you another thing. I ain’t showering until I find my girl.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Ash’s car screeched to a stop in the middle of an intersection. Cars honked. People yelled.

  Gavin took another sip and kept his eyes straight ahead. Dogs don’t need to make eye contact when another dog is acting like a fool. “I suppose you have forgotten, Ash, how we use scents to help us locate people. Do you know anybody in the wedding party by the name of ‘C’?”

  Ash snorted. “Brother, I can’t keep all of Rosemary’s friends and cousins straight. And if you think I’m going to bother her with this, you’ve got another think coming. Rosemary can sniff out messy male canine shenanigans from a mile away, and for all I know she’ll withhold wedding night sex for allowing one of the wolves to get involved in a one-night stand with one of her people.” Damn, Gavin thought. Ash was turning into a real groomzilla. What had happened to him?

  “Fine, let’s go now. Maybe C will be there, but I’m guessing she’s still hungover somewhere. If she’s not there, I’ll just stay at the brunch long enough to ask Rosemary myself, then I’ll be out of your hair,” Gavin said.

  “Are you for real? You’re gonna just show up at the DuChamp mansion smelling like some easy bachelor party pussy?”

  This, of course, was the last straw. “Fuck you and your brunch, man.” Gavin got out of the car and slammed the door, almost forgetting to grab both coffees.

  “Get back here, Gav,” Ash said.

  “Fuck you, Ash.”

  He turned and stomped back up the street toward his apartment.

  He texted C again. If you’re at the apartment, stay there! I’m coming.

  Chapter Five

  Chastity, 9:30 a.m.

  Where to go next?

  She stood at the same unfamiliar busy intersection as she’d stood earlier, without any sense of direction except G’s scent on her. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, are you okay?” She popped open her eyes, and a woman walking seven dogs and carrying an electronic reading tablet in one hand was looking at her with concern.

  She did her best to act polite, as was her upbringing, but inside she was ready to push the lady right over, because she suddenly knew exactly where to go next.

  “I’m good, thank you. Excuse me!” Chastity sprinted in her heels around the corner and stood under the street signs. The scent became more powerful. She looked up at the words on the overhanging canopy. “Howlin’ G’s Tattoos & Junk.” The name of it gave her the shivers. Was this the place where they’d gotten their matching tattoos? It had to be.

  Damn, but she was going to enjoy bringing home a long-haired tattoo artist to meet her mama and daddy. Provided her boy was interested in more than a one-night stand.

  She paused with her hand on the door handle and thought for a second. What if she did find the guy? What then? What, was he supposed to propose marriage or something? Even if he did admit to participating in a one-night stand with her, was he under some obligation to be in a relationship?

  Protection, Chas. What you need to know from him was did the two of you use protection last night? Or this morning?

  Keep your head, Chas. When you find him, he might not be your Prince Charming.

  Inside the tattoo shop, there were photos all over the walls of ink art, and on many of them, calligraphy letters that looked like the same style of the G on her ass right now.

  On top of that, his scent was everywhere. And not just the kind of scent that lingers after someone leaves. The kind of scent that is embedded in everything. The walls, the rugs, the chairs. Could this be his? She thought back to the name. Howlin’ G’s. Oh my God. Unbelievable. This place belonged to him.

  She was so close.

  All she needed to do now was stay right here, and he’d show up eventually, right?

  Chastity looked around in the futile hopes of finding a female tattoo artist to help her identify the work on her ass, but she already knew the answer she was seeking. Unfortunately, there did not seem to be a single employee of the female persuasion anywhere. She would have to have a talk with G about that as soon as she met him. Again. As soon as you meet him again.

  Swallowing her pride and flicking her hair out of her face, She clip-clopped over to the nearest artist who looked the least busy. It was a tall guy with a Fu Manchu mustache and a motorcycle vest. He had two full sleeves of tattoos with ferocious-looking creatures, all canine, morphing into humans.

  “Interesting tattoos,” she said, pointing to his arm that was nearest to her.

  “Thanks,” the man said gruffly.

  She waited for the guy to ask if she needed help with something, but that bit of politeness never came. She cleared her throat and tried to turn on the charm, which was getting increasingly difficult the longer she went without coffee, water, or a hangover remedy. “I’m looking for someone. But can I ask you about those dogs all over your arms?”

  He stared at her. “You can ask. I probably won’t answer.”

  Wow. Nice place, she thought. “Are those shapeshifters or werewolves on your arms?”

  The man squinted at her. “What do you know about any of those things?”

  “Uh, research,” she replied.

  “You a journalist?”

  She shook her head.

  “Cop? Wildlife Service? Forest Service? Game warden?”

  She cocked her head and gestured down at her sequined dress. “That also depends. Do you see a badge and khakis anywhere?”

  Mustache Man’s question would be seriously bizarre…to someone who was not a shapeshifter or familiar with shapeshifters.

  “I do not. I still don’t know you.”

  She sighed. “Fine.” And then she narrowed her eyes and let the panther inside her growl, deeply, from the back of her throat, just loud enough for the man to hear it. Calling up her magic when she hadn’t been feeling it, when she was already sapped of energy, drained her all the more. But it worked. The man backed down.

  His eyes grew wide, and he put up his hands. “Are you nuts? You can’t do that shit in here. What are you, a witch or something?”

  “I’m whatever scares you the most,” she said, hoping this cryptic answer was spooky enough for him to let her chill out here for a while.

  He sniffed the air. “The DuChamp clan, I gather.”

  Her eyes widened. “Holy shit, how did you know that?”

  “My business. I make it my business to know all of the enemies of our kind in this city. I also know your kitty-cat kin is marrying into the wolf clan. It’s kind of a big deal.”

  Her stomach dropped. “You know about us? About Rosemary? That she’s…that we are…”

  He rolled his eyes and tried not to raise his voice, even though he was clearly growing frustrated with the hungover party girl in front of him. “Yes, yes, that y’all are a bunch of fuckin’ panthers, creeping in and destroying our wolf bloodline. But that’s what your people do, isn’t it? Take what you think is yours?”

  Chastity batted her eyes, not out of flirtation or an attempt to get her way, but to take a moment to clear her head. She told herself she did not need to respond to these strange and frankly kind of racist ideas about bloodlines. Instead, she focused on all this new information. Strangers know about us, she thought, and more importantly…

  “First of all,” s
he said, a little too loudly, pointing a finger in Fu Manchu’s face, “I am from Baton Rouge, and we Baton Rouge DuChamps are not interested in messing with your precious bloodline. And second of all, I am severely hungover, dying for some coffee, and I’m looking for someone named G.”

  “You looking for Gavin?”

  “Is that his name?”

  “That’s the owner’s name. You know him?”

  She drew G’s—or possibly Gavin’s—scent into her nostrils again. It was comforting in this exhausting and stressful moment, and it was coming at her from all over this place.

  “I might,” she said. “But first I need to confirm something. Do you have a towel or a cape I can use to cover myself while I show you my ass?”

  Mustache Man got up and grabbed a large bath sheet for her to wrap around herself and cover up her goodies while she lifted her dress.

  Mustache Man took one look at her ass and started to laugh. “That right there is the handiwork of our owner. And you lied to me. You are mixed up with the wolf.”

  Now she was really confused. “Gavin’s a wolf?”

  He crossed his arms. “Lady, if you don’t even know, then why do you, prissy little kitty cat that you are, have his first initial, in his style, on your ass?”

  She huffed in frustration and dropped her dress back down over her goodies and folded the bath sheet. “I’m guessing he’s not here. Would you mind if I hung around so I could talk to him when he comes back?”

  “He was here just a little bit ago.”

  “Really? Oh my God! Which way did he go?”

  “Fuck if I know. Probably home to sleep it off. Looked like he had a rough night.”

  She gulped. “I was just there, he’s not home. I don’t suppose you have a phone charger I could use for a minute?”

  He apologized. “Unless you’re a paying customer, I can’t let you use the place like your own personal internet café.”

  “Come on, man.”

  “Sorry, I ain’t the boss.”

  “Not even for a girl having a rough morning? Who has your boss’s first initial tattooed on her ass?”

  “Listen,” he said. “I know you’re used to getting your way, judging by who you are and who your family is. But I can’t just bend the rules because you’re a pretty party girl who can’t remember what happened last night.”

  She nodded sadly and pulled herself together. She was not going to cry in front of this tough guy.

  “I am throwing myself on your mercy. I know what this looks like: a walk of shame. But let me tell you something. I woke up hungover, in a strange apartment, not knowing where I was, unable to call an Uber, with only this tattoo and a corner of his face in a photo. My credit card isn’t working, I have no way to get where I need to go, and I am desperate to find this Gavin person. Can you please call him, or may I please use somebody’s firewire for just a minute?”

  Mustache Man stared at her for a second. Then shook his head and said, “Okay, lady. Listen. You can plug in over here in the corner. But as soon as a paying customer comes in and needs that chair, I need you to vamoose. In the meantime, I’ll call him on his cell.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  “Please stop,” he muttered.

  Moments later, her phone was beginning to juice up, and she had a mental glimmer of hope. As she waited for it to have enough of a charge to call for a car, she closed her eyes. She was desperate for coffee and food and some nice warm slippers. But when she closed her eyes, something in the back of her mind was giving her a different kind of comfort. A memory from last night.

  She hated the way that memories from wild nights sort of fell into place in dribs and drabs throughout the day, either making her laugh or giving her near-panic attacks. This was none of that. When she closed her eyes, there was only warm skin, deep, intense brown eyes, his soft hair threaded through her fingers. Pillowy full lips claiming her mouth, her neck, her nipples, her…oh my. That happened. This time, she got the good kind of gooseflesh rising all along her arms and chest. The rough beard might explain some of the sensations she felt down between her legs. The fact that he might be a wolf? Not what she wanted to hear. But as with most forbidden things, that just made it all the more tempting. Her body lit up with a yearning for more of…whatever it was that happened last night. Judging by the way the muscles of her sex tensed up on their own, she could guess he’d made a meal of her.

  She could almost feel Gavin’s breath against her thighs. Social constructs, like felines and canines not being made for each other, fell away. There were no embarrassing, regrettable drunk moments about it. She could tell, in her hazy brain and muscle memory, that he had been kind and gentle with her…but then there was no resolution. Maybe they were so drunk they had both passed out. Or maybe she had shapeshifted in front of him and chased him off…

  “Time to go, ma’am.” It was the Mustache Man interrupting her thoughts. She opened her eyes and looked down at her phone. There was about a five percent charge on it. Yay! Just enough juice to call a car and check her text messages.

  She looked up. “Did you call him? What did he say?”

  “Didn’t answer.”

  Before she headed out the door, crestfallen, Mustache Man called, “Listen, if he’s not at home, then you might check the coffee shop or Wolfpack Tavern on the next block. That’s all I can tell you. And hey, be careful. If you don’t understand what he is yet, then it’s not too late for you to walk away. For your safety and his.”

  Chapter Six

  Gavin, 9:15 a.m.

  There was no sign of her at his apartment except her lingering scent from moments ago.

  He texted her again at 9:20 a.m.:

  Where are you right now? I need to see you.

  Gavin put on a fresh shirt and his least beat-up pair of motorcycle boots. He could at least do Ash that much of a favor before he showed up at the fancy brunch at the mansion. He still wasn’t going to shower, as he needed this woman’s scent on him to help find her.

  Besides, he liked knowing she was all over him. He’d taken a moment to smell his shirt from last night, after noticing that she’d left it on his doormat for him, folded. She was there too. In the bed, in the blankets, in his lungs and his skin.

  As far as he was concerned, his wolf had imprinted on whoever she was. So it was just a matter of time before they found each other, and he would make her his. He couldn’t remember all of it, but his body and soul remembered enough.

  His only option now before swallowing his pride and heading to the DuChamp mansion was to check the tattoo shop for clues.

  Manny was there just finishing up with a customer. She had not been there this morning, that much Gavin could tell.

  “Hey man, did I come in late last night or early this morning? And did you let me get a tattoo on my hip?”

  Manny crossed his arms and then rubbed his mustache. “Dude, did you get a fuckin’ tattoo on your stupid ass?”

  Gavin swallowed back the desire to punch his number one employee in the face, turned around, and dropped his pants. “No. My hip.”

  Manny laughed maniacally. “You sure did, you big dumb ox! Holy shit, it’s a heart, even! Who the fuck is ‘C’? She must be a hot piece of—“

  Gavin fastened his jeans again and pointed in Manny’s face. “Manny, you better shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about her. Has she been in here this morning?”

  “Naw, man. And I sure as fuck didn’t give you that art. That’s your calligraphy right there, and you know it.”

  Gavin sighed. “I know. I gotta go. Listen, if she comes in here, will you please text me and tell her to stay put? Take care of her? She’s probably hungover as shit.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  And now C’s coffee was getting cold. He decided to hit the Wolfpack Tavern and get some fresh beignets to add to the coffee.

  Up the street at Bobby’s bar, there was no sign of his other wolf buddy. No surprise there. Th
ey all had to be as hungover as shit. And of course, this would have been the first place Ash had checked. Maybe Bobby was already at the mansion for the brunch. The brunch that Gavin wanted to go to less and less as the morning wore on.

  The barmaid, also of the wolf clan, knew Gavin personally and let him go behind the bar to help himself to a pour from the tap. “That shit is stale, it’s from last night still.”

  Gavin walked around the bar with the mug of stale ale and shook his head. “I don’t care, I just want to hang for a minute to wait for Bobby. I need information.”

  “I haven’t seen him since the party ended last night. I’ve been cleaning, and I’m getting ready to leave,” she said.

  “Have you seen any women in here? Young, I think? Cute? Smells good?”

  The barmaid looked at him like he’d grown a second skull. “Dude, go home and sleep it off. There was a crowd of tight-ass bitches in here last night after that bachelorette party merged with the bachelor party at about 1 a.m., and I have no idea what happened after that.”

  Gavin nodded and pulled out his wallet, digging for a stack of twenties, about to ask her a favor. “Shit. No worries, just a shot in the dark. Hey, do you think you could fire up the fryer and make some beignets real fast? I know Bobby’s got some dough back there in the freezer. I need to suck up to a girl. I just have this feeling she likes those.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I just cleaned. You wanna make a mess? Be my guest. But clean up after yourself. Also, it’ll mean more if you make them yourself.”

  As he was about to fold up his wallet again, he saw a glint in it. He moved around some receipts. He needed to clean out his wallet. There it was. A key. He reached in and picked it up. It was a brass house key. Had he scored a key to this girl’s house or apartment, with no clue where it was? He gripped the key in his hand, closed his eyes, and concentrated. She was still all over him, but now he could see something.

  A memory from last night surfaced into his mind. He could not see her face, but he saw hair, a curvy little body. Smooth, flawless skin that responded with heat to his touch. And breasts as beckoning as her scent. She had dark rosy nipples that pebbled at the touch of his hands, his lips. Everything about her was soft and inviting and intoxicating. He felt a woman’s fingers in his hair. Legs wrapped around him. And her sex was unbelievably hot and wet for him, his lips diving in for a taste. He’d kissed and tasted her everywhere, and everywhere was softness and velvety perfection.