True Claim

by Marie Johnston

  Just feel like you should go.

  “And do what?” Bennett asked, while his fingers tersely snapped the words off while signing. There was nothing wrong with the kid’s hearing, but it was easier to stay fluent if they signed in return. It was unlike the teenaged male to be pushy. Sullen and withdrawn, absolutely. Not pushy.

  The boy just shrugged, giving Bennett the impression that he really didn’t know. A wave of relief went through Bennett. He wasn’t so far gone that even Parrish wanted him to go bang females until he felt better. Not that he wouldn’t like to release himself into a willing female’s body. However, there was just one female on his mind and he wouldn’t be tangling with that filly any time soon.

  For now, a little virtual battle and maybe a Die Hard marathon would have to do.

  ***

  Bass reverberated through Bennett’s skull. He let it wash through him, hoping it would take some of his aggression with it on its way out. He’d spent the last few weeks getting nagged by a mute teenager to go to the damn club.

  Getting more and more wound up each day wasn’t helping. He stayed far away from Spencer’s land and hadn’t ventured to town for a little sexual healing. He didn’t dwell too long about the reason why, but it certainly wasn’t because he would feel like a gigantic jackass to be with other women while his alleged mate was only miles away. That absolutely wasn’t the reason. He gave everything to his first mate and almost lost more. Fool me once, Bennett thought bitterly.

  Unfortunately, Halo, Call of Duty, action flicks, and extreme training only went so far. Working off his hostility in the training center helped, especially since Kaitlyn and Jace were now fully trained Guardians. He could take on both of them and sometimes get his ass handed to him so well that he spent a blissful afternoon recovering without feeling like he was going to implode.

  But here he was at Pale Moonlight. Two women, regulars, had already asked him if he was heading to The Den. Shit, had he taken them more than once? That showed how clouded his thinking had been in the past year if he violated rule number one—sex with the same woman more than once in the same night was okay, but never, ever again after that. Otherwise they started getting ideas. The word “relationship” began to taint their thinking.

  At least rule number two was safe. Always from behind. No touching, no kissing, and definitely no embracing. Bennett didn’t want arms twined around his neck or legs wrapped around his waist, just needed to work them from behind and help them get the hell out so he could start again with a new girl.

  The old system he and Mercury and Mason had developed worked really well. The late Guardian warmed up the ladies with the touchy-feely stuff and after he released himself he handed them over to Bennett and Mercury. Then Dani came into Mercury’s life and he dropped down like a two-hundred and thirty-pound ball of whipped male for the woman. Bennett suspected his odd friend would’ve been toast even if Dani hadn’t shown up pregnant with his child from a Sigma insemination meant to deliver Madame G her very own shifter baby. In fact, Mercury even said he was enthralled with the human before he caught the scent of his young within her.

  Why the evil Madame G needed her taint on a baby, they hadn’t figured out yet. While the Guardians were working on that, they investigated why Mason betrayed his own pack, and to figure out if the betrayal went as deep at the Lycan Council, the ruling body of shifter kind.

  The twins, Malcolm and Harrison, went north to investigate the council, while the others stayed in West Creek to focus on taking down Madame G and her chapter of Sigma. Shifters would never win the battle over the Sigma menace if their own governing body was causing festering wounds within the packs themselves.

  It sucked the twins had to go. They weren’t pillars of personality; Harrison barely talked and was extremely touchy, but he worked well with Malcolm’s magnetism and charm. Which attracted the females both he and his brother enjoyed, often together.

  Bennett hung his head down staring into the amber depths of his Belgian ale, remembering how he’d been successfully dealing with his emotional baggage by getting his head examined by Jace’s human mate, Cassie. The woman was a psychologist, and after mating with Jace, her natural talent blossomed into something more powerful. Yet, she wasn’t strong enough to heal Bennett’s damage. So one night, when he stumbled into the club’s back bathroom and found Malcolm thrusting into a girl from behind, while his brother was sitting on the counter getting head from her, well…Bennett found a new system that worked for him. Even better, Malcolm did the footwork, finding willing bodies, freeing Bennett from practicing his false charm.

  But the twins had been gone for months and now Bennett had ninety-nine problems and a woman was definitely number one.

  “’Bout time you came in.” Christian Williams slid onto the bar stool next to Bennett and faced him.

  The tall, dark shifter was not only the owner of Pale Moonlight, but pack leader of the shifters employed at the club. Most of the shifters were rejects from other packs, lost souls who found their way to Christian and into his motley crew. The club served to provide not only employment, but catered to the increased sexual needs of the unmated in their species. Bonus, the increased shifter traffic sometimes brought mates together.

  Scowling at the thought of mates, Bennett redirected his attention to the intimidating male next to him and lifted an eyebrow. “Been looking for me? I know, I’m a stud, but you’re taken.”

  Christian snorted. “Mabel wouldn’t care if you were a guy, she’d kick my ass, and then yours if I even thought of checking you out.”

  True. Mabel was tiny, but Bennett wouldn’t cross her. Christian might rule the club, but she ruled him, and Bennett suspected Christian was just fine with that. In the years they’d been in West Creek, he’d seen enough women and men, both shifter and human, drawn to the muscular male with smooth, dark skin and mesmerizing black eyes. The austere owner blew them off, always, and if they kept bothering him, then he cut his mate loose on their sorry ass. After that, it was end of story.

  “What’s up?” Bennett was curious now. If Christian had pertinent intel to pass on, he usually notified the commander.

  Christian leaned back against the bar, resting his elbows on the surface, facing the crowd. Tilting his head, he aimed his voice toward Bennett, speaking low. The male had the handy ability of throwing his voice so only those who he intended could hear. Speaking quietly in a loud club to a shifter with heightened hearing didn’t work because all shifters in the club had heightened senses.

  “One of my pack that works here caught on to a Sigma spy who keeps coming in. A guy, a young and preppy human, keeps asking weird questions to the girls he hits on.”

  “Like what?”

  Christian scanned the crowd again, his black eyes almost shimmering. “You sit there and look all pretty and let me talk.”

  Bennett set his mouth in a hard line and resisted rolling his eyes. Pack leaders were major assholes.

  “First, he’ll ask questions to determine if the girl is a shifter or not. That always sends up warning flags and I turn the guy over to Rhys.” Christian and the commander had formed a tight working relationship. The Guardians would use the information to negate any threats to their kind and do it in a way that didn’t lead back to the club so Sigma spies kept coming in.

  “If the girl’s human, he moves on. But if she’s a shifter, he keeps on with the questions, all suave-like, trying to find out their parent’s names, where they’re from, if they have any siblings.”

  Bennett flashed Christian a droll look. The questions were odd only in that the club was a place to hook up and this guy seemed to be looking for lasting love.

  Christian pinned Bennett with a dark stare. “Check the attitude, Guardian. I’m getting to the good stuff.” Casting his gaze around the room he continued. “All the women have the same look—petite and fair. Dude never takes them to the back, only wants to talk. We’ve kept an eye on him and noticed the women jerk their arm back at least once af
ter he touches them. That’s when my guy noticed the ring.”

  Okay, now the story was picking up.

  “After each girl, the ring changes, sometimes color, sometimes design, like he switches it, but we haven’t actually seen confirmation. Then he whips out his phone like he’s texting, but one of our servers got a peek and saw he was making notes of all the information he’d gathered.”

  Bennett was about to ask one of the twenty questions he had, when he got silenced by glittering black eyes.

  “I know you’re bursting with questions, and I’m getting to it.” Christian shook his head. “Man, why couldn’t Rhys have come in first. Dude lets me finish. Here it is. He’s definitely looking for a particular woman. No, we don’t know if he’s Sigma, but my guess is yes. Yes, he still comes in, but hasn’t in several days. Of course I’ll give you his description.”

  You need to find her. The words echoed in Bennett’s head as surely as he heard them spoken again by the supposedly deranged young man hiding in a psych ward. The Guardians had tried to gather information from him a few months ago. The guy claimed Sigma was after his sister. He had stared directly at Bennett when informing them they need to find the mystery woman before Sigma killed her.

  “Word is, he’s not the only one hunting a woman.” Christian was full of information tonight. “One of the bouncers at one of the other clubs in Freemont heard some women chatting about getting hit on by a hot guy who did nothing but ask questions.”

  Bennett let the information sink in as he gazed across the bar counter, using the mirror behind the bottles to scan the club behind him. So, they were trolling the whole area and if they’ve deployed that many spies, then they knew she was here, but didn’t know who she was either. Regardless, Sigma knew more than Bennett.

  Well, it was time to hit the town.

  Chapter Five

  I don’t want to go in. Spencer sat in her truck outside of the country western bar her acquaintance arranged to meet her at.

  The young woman Spencer had gotten to know owns a small store with her husband that sells homemade goods in West Creek. They were looking to add locally grown seasonal produce and Spencer was working hard to get recruited by them. It would be the perfect set-up. A secure client to sell to, who could mediate between her and the public, without Spencer putting her face out there. She could create a steady income and remain mostly anonymous.

  But first, she had to go into this place. A public place, with loud music that would dull her senses, with all kinds of strangers bumping into her and even worse, noticing her.

  With a resigned sigh, Spencer opened the door of her beat-up farm truck and slid out. Her cowboy boots made minimal noise on the concrete walk leading up to the popular bar and grill in West Creek called Boots Up. There was no debate between boots or heels, or boots with heels. Spencer was not only a country girl, but a smart girl, and heels were beetle dung for running. Paired with her worn jeans and purple plaid top, she would either integrate superbly or be horribly out of place.

  Spencer paused just inside the door to take in the scene and gather her wits. This was so far out of her comfort zone.

  Rustic chic was the theme with wood as far as the eye could see. Wooden beams lined the walls and ceiling, lacquered logs for tables and wooden booths sat on top of a polished cherry wood floor.

  As for the social scene, Spencer noted everything from her own style of dress, some with cowboy hats, to slinky dresses and tight leggings. Perfect. Blending in was pertinent and this would do. The crowd seemed to lean toward couples and groups. Even better.

  “Hey Spencer, you made it!” Her friend Constance bounded up to meet her, calling Spencer by her real name. Her parents had said that under different circumstances, they would’ve named her Sarah. Since a girl named Spencer attracted more attention and unwanted questions, she usually just went by Sarah for casual acquaintances. Since she didn’t have anything more than casual relationships, almost no one knew her real name.

  Except for Bennett, the frustrating Guardian. And now Constance and her husband. She worried her desperation for a connection to society was making her careless.

  Constance Smythe and her husband, Mark, were five or so years older than Spencer, she’d guess thirtyish. The couple had embraced the locally grown, organic, no-GMO, no additives, all natural lifestyle, and were currently spurring enthusiasm from the community to make their living providing the qualified products.

  Spencer wove through the bar, following Constance to a booth where her husband waited. They spent the next couple of hours chatting about the produce Spencer could grow, the timeline of her stock, and prices. Spencer nailed it thanks to the ’shrooms. Not recreational, not therapeutic, but to put on salad and in spaghetti sauce—button and cremini mushrooms. They weren’t hard to grow, just a little tedious.

  The mushrooms would kick-start her growing season, with her herbs, until the bigger produce started coming in. Constance and Mark were impressed with Spencer’s knowledge and confidence in her products and the growing season. Spencer easily played it up like it had always been her family’s way of life, something she’d grown up doing. It was…sort of true. Natural talent filled in the rest. A natural talent with nature not many humans could claim. Spencer used it carefully, but shamelessly.

  “I can’t wait until your first delivery!” Constance exclaimed. “We’ll come up with a contract and call you so we can meet up and you can go over it.”

  Mark extended his hand. “Looking forward to working with you.”

  Spencer shook his hand. She could see herself getting to know these people. Actually be friends or something.

  “We’d better get going. The sitter texted me. She forgot she has a test tomorrow, so we should call it a night.” Constance slid out of the booth and leaned in to give Spencer a quick hug before they left.

  Spencer rested back in the booth and watched them walk out, hand-in-hand, content to see a happy couple, even though that ideal wasn’t in the cards for her. But maybe dessert was. Everyone here had already seen her, so she was one of the crowd, and it had been ages since she had lava cake. She signaled the server, put in her order, and relaxed back to wait, trying not think about her friendly neighbor. Why couldn’t she get him off her mind?

  A shadow fell over her booth.

  Aww, heck.

  Ideas of a peaceful dessert faded into obscurity when her heart rate picked up for the grim, blond, mountain of man standing by her booth, dressed much like the first time he showed up at her place.

  “What brings you here, Bennett?” Was he meeting friends? Or worse, a date? Anger spiked harshly within her. It was obvious he was ignoring the fact she was supposed to be his mate. What if he did more than ignore it?

  That…teed her off. And that feeling was irritating. She was ignoring the mating call as much as he was, having no room in her life for further complications.

  “Just hanging out.” Bennett took the seat across from her, resting his arms on the table, hands folded, regarding her quietly. “You?”

  Just hanging out. He was full of dookie Whatever, it wasn’t her business and for once she didn’t have to lie.

  “I was meeting some future clients and decided to stay and have some dessert.”

  “Clients for what?” he asked bluntly. Gone was the charming neighbor, tonight Bennett was somber, tampering down his fierce energy, keeping it coiled tightly while he scanned the crowd. His eyes would land on any couple sitting and chatting, wait a heartbeat, and then move on to the next couple.

  “I plan to grow fruits and vegetables and sell them at local markets. Maybe even have some internet orders.”

  Those navy blues landed on Spencer and her breath hitched. He was an intense male, and he was completely focused on her.

  “You really think you can make a living doing that?” The sardonic tone grated on her.

  She wore her most coy expression. “Why, Mr. Young, do you doubt my ability?”

  “I’m sure you can grow
whatever you want, but enough to make money? Through our winters, and with your land surrounded by trees?” His look intensified. “You don’t plan on cutting down the trees do you?”

  Horrified, Spencer shuddered. The trees were her shelter, keeping her hidden and safe. “Of course not. There are more ways to make a living off the land than razing it for mass production.”

  “Fill me in then.” Bossiness was second nature to this male.

  “First of all, there’s my little babies, the mushrooms. Then the berry and grape plants I’ll start. Wine’s big nowadays, so maybe I’ll dabble in that. Herbs grow fast, and drying them and selling seasoning packets will be good winter income. Then there’s the standard tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, cucumbers, pumpkins. Lots of options.”

  The lava cake was slid in front of her by the college-aged male server. He grinned at her delight and received a heavy scowl from Bennett.

  Unintimidated, the server turned to Bennett. “Can I get you anything, man?”

  “Whatever pale ale you have on tap.” A quirked eyebrow at Spencer had her shaking her head.

  “Just water, please,” she said.

  The server left to fill their order and Bennett resumed his scrutiny of her.

  “Hitting the hard stuff tonight?”

  “I had Diet Coke earlier, so I’ll be jittery all night as it is.”

  Spencer continued to dig into her cake, sliding the second fork the server was thoughtful enough to provide, toward Bennett. He glared at the fork like she poisoned it, before picking it up and swiping a bite.

  “Shit’s good,” he said around his mouthful.

  Spencer glowered at him.

  “What’s your thing with swearing?” He kept swiping bites from her cake, his scrutiny on her lips wrapping around the fork. It should’ve made her uncomfortable. Instead it made her feel…powerful.