Wicked Cowboy Wolf

by Kait Ballenger

  Mae was biting into one of the protein bars as Boone dealt out another hand of blackjack when Rogue made his appearance. He tore into the campsite, wearing little more than a pair of jeans, which hung so low on his hips that the bones and sinew muscle were visible leading down to…

  She tore her gaze away.

  Even after everything they’d done last night, she still wanted him, and she’d meant what she said.

  She wanted all of him, heart and soul.

  The prospect of that terrified her. She turned her attention back to the game. Rogue lingered nearby, leaning against a towering tree. Boone finished dealing the round. She watched as Sterling beckoned for another card.

  “Hit me.”

  Boone dealt the next card, a king of hearts on top of a four of diamonds. It was Yuri’s turn.

  “Stay,” he said.

  The card facing up in front of him was a ten of spades. Mae watched as the other players stayed or passed, taking note of their cards as she ran calculations in her head. When it reached her turn, she accepted two more cards before stopping at exactly twenty-one.

  A collective round of groans sounded.

  “That’s the fifth damn time in a row,” Sterling howled.

  Boone slammed the deck down on top of the rock. “You’re cheating,” he grumbled, pointing at Mae.

  “So what if she is? You cheat all the time,” Daisy shot back.

  Mae cast Boone a coy grin. “I wasn’t aware cheating was frowned upon by criminals.”

  “We may be criminals, lass, but even a lot like us has morals,” Murtagh said as he gathered the cards. “Gamblin’ is sacred among our kind, y’ken?” he teased.

  “How are you doing it?” Yuri asked.

  Boone growled at him. The young wolf was high-spirited and kind but a sore loser. “How do you think she’s doing it? She’s counting the cards!”

  “Where’d you learn that trick?” Daisy asked.

  “It’s not a trick.” Mae shrugged a shoulder. “It’s math.”

  The response led Boone into another round of curses while Mae and Daisy exchanged grins.

  As Murtagh finished gathering the cards, he noticed Rogue watching them from the edge of the clearing. “’Bout damn time yeh joined us.”

  Rogue grumbled something unintelligible in response.

  Whatever it was, Murtagh didn’t seem to care for it. “While you were out gallivanting ’bout the woods, we were discussin’ a plan.”

  Rogue quirked a brow, but from the scowl on his lips and the quick dart of his eyes toward Mae, he didn’t seem pleased that she’d been part of the discussion.

  But if she hadn’t been intimidated by him before, last night had made any prospect of that out of the question.

  “We need to face Walker Solomon,” she said, inserting herself into the conversation.

  “No.” Rogue said the word with such cold finality that it caused Mae to stiffen.

  “It’s the only way,” she said. “We have no other leads, and you said yourself that now that the vampires know where we are, any progress we make will be extremely difficult.”

  “The lass is right,” Murtagh added.

  Rogue was shaking his head.

  “You made a promise. You swore to me that if I came with you, you’d find the antidote, save me, my pack, the rogues—everyone.”

  “And I will,” he shot back, “but that doesn’t mean Walker Solomon is the way to do it.”

  “We’re running out of time.” Mae felt that in her bones. After all the events of last night, everything felt more urgent. She needed to save her pack, herself, before the vampires struck again and destroyed them all.

  Rogue shook his head. “No, I won’t get mixed up with Walker Solomon.” He shoved off the tree he was leaning against and made his way over to the campfire.

  “What other choice do we have?”

  “Anything that doesn’t involve getting fucked by the likes of that crazy bastard,” Rogue growled. He moved to follow after Bee, who carried his saddlebag and its contents. She wasn’t foolish. He was brushing her aside.

  Mae knew Solomon’s reputation and knew it well. The rogue wolf was bloodthirsty, brutal, and he answered to no one. Not even Rogue. He was as close to a villainous rival as Rogue would likely ever get.

  But this was the right choice, and she knew it.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a coward,” she said.

  Rogue froze in his tracks.

  “Oh shit,” Sterling mumbled.

  “Is she trying to get us all killed?” Yuri whispered to Boone.

  Boone nodded. “I think so,” he whispered back.

  Slowly, Rogue turned. The heels of his cowboy boots dug into the ground as he prowled toward her. He didn’t stop until they were practically nose to nose.

  The gold of his wolf eyes blazed. “If you want to sacrifice yourself, then so be it, Princess, but I won’t give my blessing for it. I won’t ask my men to go on a death mission.”

  “You don’t have to,” Mae challenged. “Solomon’s a casino owner. Murtagh says he makes all his deals over games of cards. I can play him. Count the cards. Beat him. Only you and I would have to be—”

  Rogue’s eyes narrowed as he looked toward Murtagh, and that one look alone was enough to cut Mae short.

  “This was your idea?” he asked Murtagh.

  If looks could kill…

  “Actually, it was mine.” The brave voice came from Will, who had been using a spare deck of cards to teach his sister how to play blackjack while Noah attempted—and repeatedly failed—to build a house of cards. The children had been listening throughout the conversation.

  Rogue let out a short staccato laugh underscoring that he didn’t find this situation amusing at all. “Wonderful,” he said. “Now we’re taking battle advice from an eight-year-old.”

  “I’m almost nine,” Will corrected, as if that made it any better. “And by the way, Murtagh, learning long division sounds good if I can count cards like Mae.”

  Mae almost laughed. She had to admit, she admired his bravery.

  “Whatever plan you all made, forget it,” Rogue said. He turned back toward her, gripping her hand and pulling her in close enough so only she could hear him. “If you think that after last night I’m going to let you come within a hundred miles of Walker Solomon, think again.” His eyes held hers with a feral intensity. “I won’t put you in that kind of danger. Not now. Not ever. You can challenge me on a lot things, Mae, but the question of your safety isn’t one of them.”

  With that last word, he stormed off into the forest again, leaving Mae standing in his wake.

  “Well, that didn’t go according to plan,” Daisy commented.

  After a few comments from the rogue peanut gallery, the other wolves continued with their various activities, but Murtagh continued to watch Mae.

  She released a long sigh. “He’s wrong on this.”

  “Aye.” The Scot shuffled the deck of cards in his hand. “But at least he’s wrong for the right reasons.”

  Mae’s brow furrowed.

  “He’s tryin’ to protect ye, lass.”

  “Says the man who helped him plot to kidnap me.”

  Murtagh chuckled. “I dinna say he didn’t have a right daft way of showin’ it.” The giant Scot rose from where he was seated. He crossed the clearing toward Mae and passed her the deck. “I’ll speak to him. Make him see this is the only way.”

  Mae clutched the deck of cards in her hand. “I don’t know what has him so worried about me.”

  “I think ye ken that ye do.” Murtagh cast her a knowing smile, which caused Mae to blush. Of course, they would realize what had passed between her and Rogue.

  The Scot made to step after Rogue, but he paused before he twisted back toward her. “He’s had a hard life, y
’know. Cast from his pack as a boy, maimed by the packmaster himself. That’s how he earned the scars on his face.” Murtagh gestured to his own features, mirroring where Rogue’s scarring lay. “The only way the three of us survived was by fighting in the pits of the Midnight Coyote, winning bets, money, favors.”

  “The Midnight Coyote?” The bar he’d taken her to for information. Mae’s breath grew short. What dark memories had it cost him to have to go back there? Yet he’d done it, to save her and those he cared for.

  “Aye, the same,” Murtagh acknowledged. “It’s how he started to amass power. But it was in Billings then.”

  Billings? Just outside Wolf Pack Run? Rogue had never mentioned he’d lived anywhere near there. Though she supposed she still wasn’t exactly certain where he lived now. She’d long since guessed Black Hollow was located somewhere in Idaho, based on the flora and fauna, but she couldn’t be certain.

  But still, Rogue residing in Billings seemed…significant.

  “Almost recruited us to the Wild Eight in those days,” Murtagh continued, being unusually chatty, “but Rogue had different ideas, ye ken? He’s always been righteous about the treatment of rogues. Even in the beginning. I wager it was difficult for him to fall so hard from grace like that.”

  Murtagh raised a brow. He seemed to be trying to tell her something he wasn’t saying aloud, but Mae wasn’t catching his meaning. When she didn’t respond, he smiled and gave a shake of his head. “I’ll speak with him. Make him see.”

  “Thank you, Murtagh,” Mae said softly.

  The Scot moved to step away and then paused. “Mae,” he said, “it’d be a favor to me if ye remember that everything he does is for the love of ye.”

  Mae wasn’t certain what he meant by that. But before she could ask, the Scot shifted into his wolf—a giant grey beast with tufts of reddish fur on his paws—and then he was gone.

  Chapter 20

  Dry desert dust coated Rogue’s boots as he and Mae approached the Gold Tooth’s entrance. Flashing neon signage illuminated the hard Texas ground, and the loud sounds of country music mixed with dinging slot machines filtered through the front doors. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed Murtagh to talk him into this. When the Scottish wolf had tracked him down in the middle of the Salmon Challis National Forest, he’d gone on a rant so long, Rogue had nearly fallen asleep halfway through—something about feminism and bodily autonomy and how he needed to allow Mae to make her own choices, even if those choices involved putting herself in a dangerous situation beside Walker Solomon. It had all sounded very reasonable at the time.

  Rogue gripped Mae’s shoulder, stopping her short. “Are you sure you want do this?”

  “You have a reputation to uphold. Ask me that once more, and I might think you care about me.” She smiled as she reached for the door handle. Beating him to the punch, she stepped inside.

  Rogue adjusted his Stetson and blazed after her. He didn’t like this plan one bit, but even he had to admit that if there was any she-wolf tenacious and smart enough to hold her own against an alpha like Walker Solomon, it was Maeve Grey. She held her own against him after all. She wasn’t faint of heart.

  It was whether Solomon would be a graceful loser that unsettled Rogue.

  His only reassurance was that if things got sticky—which he anticipated—he would bleed Solomon so fast, the bastard wouldn’t have time to so much as glance sideways at Mae.

  He didn’t want to consider the implications of killing a wolf like Walker Solomon. A man with followers, loyalists who might not see the error of their ways. But it’d be worth it.

  Rogue joined Mae inside, hooking his arm through hers and leading her across the casino toward the bar in the private high-rollers room—supernatural clientele only. She leaned in toward him, the sweet smell of berries in her hair mixing with the acrid cigar smoke lingering throughout the casino.

  “Where will we find him?” she whispered.

  “You should know from dealing with me, that isn’t how it works.” They reached the bar top. “You don’t go looking for a wolf like Walker Solomon, Mae.” Rogue pegged her with a hard stare. “He finds you.” Rogue turned toward the bartender. “Jack Daniel’s neat.” He glanced toward Mae.

  “The same,” she said.

  The bartender set two rocks glasses on the bar top and poured the amber drink into each. Rogue brought the fiery liquid to his lips, watching as Mae did the same. She looked stunning in a slinky little black dress they’d bought on a supply stop along the way. They’d regrouped at a safe house as they’d laid their plans, gathering equipment and additional weapons as needed. Slender curves and dark heels made Mae appear long and lean despite her petite height. A small sparkling earring dangled from each ear, highlighting the smooth angles of her pretty face. She was dressed for the part. She would draw attention.

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a whiskey drinker,” he commented.

  “Back at Wolf Pack Run, I wasn’t.”

  His brow furrowed.

  She smiled at him before she sipped from her glass. “I’ve developed a taste for it lately.” Her large green eyes darted to his lips and lingered momentarily.

  Rogue fought down a hungry growl. Had they been in any other place, he would have found the nearest dark room and made certain the hem of that dress never fell past her hips.

  He pushed the thought aside as he drew a sip from his own drink. “For a Grey Wolf about to meet a monstrous rogue like Walker Solomon, you’re calm.”

  “I’m focused,” she replied. “And you underestimate how far I’d go to save my pack.”

  “I don’t underestimate you, Mae. Not a chance.”

  He’d done so the very first time they’d met, when he’d thought he could scare her away in the woods. He’d never make that mistake again.

  “It’s just math. I’ll be fine.”

  “Good.” Rogue threw back his drink before he clapped it on the bar top. He glanced over Mae’s shoulder as he pushed the glass toward the bartender. “Because here comes trouble now.”

  Mae followed Rogue’s gaze to the casino’s proprietor, who was headed toward them. Mae’s eyes widened, and Rogue knew in an instant Solomon wasn’t what she’d expected.

  For starters, the bastard may have been as crazy a motherfucker as they came, but he was handsome nonetheless—the kind of man women looked twice at, the kind of man Rogue would be if half his face hadn’t been mauled and maimed beyond recognition by her father.

  Tall and lean-muscled with light-brown hair slicked back to his head, a thin blade of a nose, and a trimmed, sandy blond beard two shades lighter than his hair, only Solomon’s dark grin ruined his image. The ol’ Brit had never bothered to have his teeth fixed, and a nasty chewing habit he’d taken up as a teen had left his teeth yellowed around the edges.

  Hideous or not, it was a grin Rogue knew from experience a man didn’t want to see.

  Not unless he had a death wish…

  Solomon opened his arms toward Rogue, pulling him into a stiff hug. “Well, old boy,” the wolf grumbled in his heavy Brummie accent. He still sounded as if he’d been plucked straight from the streets of jolly old Birmingham. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you darkening my barstool again.”

  Mae glanced back and forth between them, her eyes wide with horror. “You know each other?”

  “Know ’im?” Solomon’s brow crinkled. “I saved this bastard’s life on several occasions.” Solomon raked his gaze over Mae, lingering a little too long for Rogue’s liking. “Who the ’ell are you?”

  Rogue’s jaw clenched. “It was once. We were seventeen. That was a long time ago.”

  Solomon grinned at him, dark teeth flashing before he glanced toward Mae again. “Don’ let ’im fool you. Long time ago that, but he’s not daft enough to forget it.”

  “How exactly did you save him?” Mae asked. Her eyes re
fused to leave Rogue’s. From the tight draw of her mouth, she was hurt he hadn’t told her.

  She might have wanted him, thought there was something between them, but she’d think him enough of a monster when all was said and done. He hadn’t wanted to add to that by putting himself in league with a known sociopath.

  “It was a long time ago,” Rogue reiterated.

  He didn’t want Mae to believe there was any loyalty between him and Solomon, because there wasn’t. There never would be. Even an outlaw like him had to draw a line in the sand somewhere, and Walker Solomon was his line. They might both be rogues, their power born from the same shitty gambling fights that’d allowed them enough of a platform to make a name for themselves, to amass power and loyalty from the other rogues among them, followed by wealth. But they were never, would never be anything but rivals.

  Rogue fought to convey that to Mae in a single look.

  Solomon signaled to the bartender, who poured him a full glass of whiskey. Solomon chugged it down in several gulps as if it were water.

  Mae’s eyes grew wide as she shot Rogue an uneasy glare.

  He understood immediately.

  The only thing more terrifying than an unhinged killer like Walker Solomon was the prospect of that same wolf angry and slightly inebriated.

  Rogue cut Mae a look. There was no backing out now. He’d warned her.

  Solomon banged his glass back on the bar top, so hard the glass cracked. But the wolf didn’t seem to notice, or at least he didn’t care. “Dragged ’im off the street half-frozen and naked, and got ’im a job at the Midnight Coyote, I did.”

  Mae quirked a brow.

  “Murtagh was the bloke who nursed his pansy arse back to health, he did. Gave ’im a place to stay and a warm bed. All them niceties and all that. I was the one who got ’im a job. Made ’im what he is.”