Enforcer: Reckless Desires (Wolf Shifter Romance) (Alpha Protectors Book 4)

by Arran,Olivia

  Grabbing a pillow, I hugged it to my chest, pretty sure I had the sappiest smile plastered all over my face. But who cared? No one was here to judge me. And so what if I was acting like a real girl for once, mooning over a guy I liked.

  I snorted at the thought, but something pinched inside my chest. Regret? A sense of loss? Whatever it was, I shoved it away. After all, it wasn’t like me to jump into bed with a man, I didn’t have the time or the inclination, but that was before him. The second I’d laid eyes on him, I’d wanted him, any which way I could have him.

  Now, most women crossed the street when they saw him, most men too, and I was pretty sure it was because of his aura. Or it could be his size coupled with the scar on his cheek, the one he tried to hide under thick stubble. Unsuccessfully, though. I thought it made him unique, a bit like me. Neither of us fit the mold that society liked to try and shove us into.

  I snorted, wondering how while trying to think sexy thoughts, I managed to edge it toward a political debate as to the state of society today, and how we were both outsiders.

  But was that why I wasn’t scared of him? Because I should be. He was stronger, faster, deadlier, and a whole lot meaner than me. He didn’t give a shit what anyone thought, even me.

  Maybe that’s why I find him irresistible? I mused over the idea, eventually dismissing it. No matter how Abel acted toward me when we first met up, he was a whole other ball game when you got him stripped and naked. Then, he was pure animal.

  Another girly sigh escaped. Dammit, that was my whole allotment for the day.

  Pushing off the bed with the reluctance reminiscent of a sloth, I trudged to the bathroom, flicking on the taps to fill the bath. Dumping one of those little complimentary bottles of bubble bath in the churning water that I liked to collect on my travels, I peeled myself out of my clothes, placing my knives carefully on the side of the sink. Sweet steam clogged the small tiled room, sticking my hair to my face as I lowered myself gingerly into the scalding water.

  Relief washed over me as my muscles untangled, the aches and pains of the last few days drifting away for a few brief moments. I didn’t resent the fact that I was always beat up, black and blue, it served as a constant reminder as to what was really important: buying my way out of the Agency.

  I only needed two more good pay checks and I would be clear. I could have a normal life, with friends and a nine-to-five job. I could even get a dog, if I wanted to. There’d be no one telling me any different.

  And a boyfriend, my subconscious piped up. Lover, I corrected, deciding that, at my age, the term boyfriend was too … sweet. What I wanted was a man who would love me, cherish me, and fuck me until I couldn’t sit down without a wince and a smile.

  I slid under the water, a grin on my face and a fantasy playing in my head, with a tough, hot werewolf taking the lead role, of course.

  Chapter Three

  Abel

  Twenty-four hours later when I walked into the bar, I was more than ready for a drink.

  My target, Trevor Cunningham appeared to have vanished into thin air. He hadn’t returned to the restaurant and I was rapidly running out of leads on how to track this scumbag down. I knew one thing for sure though, he couldn’t run forever.

  I was doing this job for free. Trevor was the kind of guy that I liked to think of as not just disposable, I owed it to humanity and shifters alike to put this man down. A child trafficker, his operation had been blown several months ago and I’d been tracking him ever since, the only thing keeping me sane after discovering those kids locked in the shipping container was the thought of putting a bullet between his eyes.

  It was going to happen, just like the sun rose every morning and the world continued to disappoint me. Not an if—a when.

  I strolled over to the smooth mahogany-wood bar, sliding onto a stool and propping my back against the wall. Snagging the ice-cold beer the bartender slid toward me, I surveyed the room.

  I had just received intel that placed Trevor at this bar five times in the last two weeks, then nothing for days. A place for the locals rather than the tourists passing through, the establishment had seen better days. A little shabby around the edges, the clientele were the kind of people that were more likely to be carrying a snub .38 in their pocket than a photo of their wife and kids.

  Eyes were shifty, hands a little twitchy, laughter a little raucous, and the music very deafening. My kind of place.

  A group of overdressed business men, their jackets abandoned carelessly over the back of chairs, started a little game of push and shove, voices bellowing over the fading track piping from the speakers.

  “Knock it off!” the bartender shouted, scowling at them from his place behind the bar.

  Surprisingly, the men backed off, giving each other that sheepish backslap that drunk human men were so fond of, each nodding at the bartender before returning to their seats.

  I took a sip of my beer, rolling the long neck between my fingers. A popular, upbeat song blared from the speakers, and a couple of people got up to dance.

  Snippets of conversations filtered through to my ears, the low whispers of infidelities being planned and the pitiful bragging of petty crimes that were not my problem. And drugs, of course. I could smell it on them, the sour smell stinking up my nose along with the acrid scent of cigar smoke that wafted from a discreet back room.

  The door swung open, allowing crisp, fresh air to stream into the humid bar.

  I did a double take, managing to maintain my relaxed slump against the wall through sheer strength of will.

  Frankie.

  She strolled through the bar, her hips swaying to the beat as her eyes glinted with mischief. Her jet black hair skimmed dusky bare shoulders, the neckline of her outfit—if you could call it that—dipping deep and showcasing parts of her body that I was pretty sure shouldn’t be out there for the lowlifes in this bar to see.

  In fact, I was damn sure of it.

  A low growl trickled from my mouth, before I clamped it shut. My wolf pawed at my skin, demanding another taste of the woman he couldn’t get enough of.

  “We meet again.” She stopped in front of me, cocking a hip and jamming her hand on it.

  “What the fuck are you wearing?” Not what I meant to say. But it was hard to think straight when holding back a slathering, drooling wolf from his chosen prey.

  “You like it?” She twirled in front of me, giving me a clear view of exactly how tight and formfitting her outfit was. She leaned forward, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s a bitch to get on, and don’t even get me started on the contortions needed to remove it …”

  Mouth dry, I had no problem visualizing it. She was dressed head to toe in leather, from the corset that laced at the back, leaving swathes of golden skin exposed, to the pants which fit her like a glove. And I was pretty sure I couldn’t see an underwear line.…

  Her eyes gleaming with satisfaction, she snagged the beer out of my hand and tipping it back, took a long, slow swallow. Her throat bobbed as she drank, the smooth expanse of her neck taunting me.

  She likes it when I nibble on her neck, always squirming with pleasure. Which is especially fucking hot when she happens to be sitting on my cock.

  “I like where your mind’s going,” she murmured, reading the heat in my eyes and passing the bottle back. Empty.

  Signaling the bartender, I forced myself to lean back against the wall. “You find anything?”

  She snorted, grabbing her drink off the bar and giving the bartender a sweet smile. “And I’d tell you, why?”

  I shrugged, my mouth curving up in a grin. “Worth a try.”

  “You?”

  “Same.”

  She swayed her hips, delight brightening her face. “I love this song!”

  “I can tell.” I couldn’t drag my damn eyes away from her.

  Placing the beer down, she grabbed my hands, giving me a tug. “Come on, dance with me.”

  Yeah … no. “I don’t dan
ce.”

  “Aw, come on. Sure you do! Remember that time in Paris?”

  I remained sat in my seat, but I didn’t let go of her hands. “That was different.”

  “Only difference was we were naked.”

  “And alone.” One tug and she’d be on my lap.…

  “We had fun?” She phrased it as a question, the facade cracking to show a hint of vulnerability.

  It was a side of Frankie I didn’t get to see often, only when her guard was truly down. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen this softer side, and I treasured each moment. I forced a smirk onto my face to cover the surge of need squeezing my chest. “Fuck, yeah, we did.”

  “So, dance with me.”

  The song was halfway over by now. What would it hurt? Standing up, I was rewarded with a dazzling smile, then the next thing I knew I was on the makeshift dance floor, shuffling around with moves reminiscent of a gawky teenager at his first dance.

  I gritted my teeth, drinking in the pure happiness on her face. So what if I felt like an idiot?

  “You need to move your hips,” she said, her hips rocking dangerously close to mine as she closed the distance between us. Throwing her arms around my neck, she stared up at me.

  I glanced down, trying not to panic. I couldn’t see my feet anymore, but I did have a hell of a view of her cleavage.

  “Up here, buddy.” Her gorgeous hazel eyes were laughing at me.

  I pulled her in tight, my hand closing around her ass.

  The laughter faded, pure heat taking its place as our hips rocked together, the soft mounds of her breasts grazing my chest. My cock thickened in anticipation.

  We didn’t speak—I’m not sure we even breathed, I know I didn’t—as we swayed back and forth.

  Around us the crowd gyrated to music I couldn’t hear, their hands waving and heads bobbing to a beat that wasn’t ours.

  “Abel …” she murmured, her voice husky and low. She pressed closer, molding herself to me.

  Tracing her cheek, I cupped her jaw, my fingers threading through her hair and tilting her head back.

  She let out a hiss, her lips parting and eyelids lowering.

  I brushed my lips against hers in a gentle feather light touch. Her breath puffed out, sweet and moist. Sliding my mouth against hers, I tasted her again, unable to do anything but take what she offered. She softened against me, her hands smoothing down my back in a caress that had me shivering.

  We had never before been so sweet.

  We had always come together in a blaze of passion, and walked away with no promises or goodbyes.

  This felt like a promise.

  Pulling back, I stared at her.

  Her cheeks were pinked, her lips soft and kissable. Hazel eyes blinked at me as though coming out of a haze.

  This was more than a kiss. More than the temptation of a good fuck. There were no more denials or sticking my head in the sand.

  I couldn’t even think the words. Couldn’t admit what she was to me.

  Which was why I couldn’t do this.

  Breaking away, I strode back over to my stool, grabbed my beer and downed it in one. Slamming the bottle on the bar, I signaled the bartender for a whiskey. It was hard to get a shifter drunk, but it wasn’t impossible. I had managed it before, though it had taken a lot of determination and a good dose of self pity to get me there.

  “What was all that about?”

  I grunted, hoping she’d take the hint. I knew I was acting like a dick, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Hey!” She smacked me on the shoulder, her foot tapping as she waited for me to look at her.

  Swiping the whiskey off the bar, I swallowed it dry. “Another,” I called out, a quick glance at her face had me asking for the bottle. Why did she have to look so goddamn beautiful?

  “Can I get a glass,” she called out. Not bothering to ask if I minded, she poured herself a measure.

  Stealing the glass out from under her hand, I drained it. “You’ll get drunk.”

  “But it’s okay if you do?”

  “I’ve got a hell of a long way to go before there’s any chance of that.”

  I caught the way her eyes narrowed as she assessed me. I poured myself another drink. “But you can do it?”

  “Yep. Been there, bought the T-shirt.”

  “I thought werewolves—”

  “We prefer shifter. And keep your goddamn voice down.” I drained my fourth shot. Or was it fifth?

  “You’re a grumpy drunk.”

  “Not drunk. Yet.”

  “Do you want to tell me why you nearly kissed me and now you’re drinking like a madman chasing the worm?”

  “Not tequila.” I slammed back another shot.

  “I know.” She said it in a deadpan voice, her way of silently telling me I was acting like an idiot.

  Yeah. Got that.

  We locked eyes. Carefully shielding my turmoil from view, I glared at her. “Are we still having this little challenge?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Good.”

  Giving me one last lingering look, she turned to leave.

  My hand shot out before I could stop it, latching onto her arm.

  She peered over her shoulder, her face a mask. “Yes?”

  “Be careful,” I eventually said, finally getting a grip on myself.

  Her lips curved up into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Careful, someone might think you care.”

  I tried to swallow back the words, but they wouldn’t be silenced, the look in her eyes dragging them out of me with no chance of reprieve. “I do. Too much.”

  Not waiting to see her reaction, I grabbed the bottle and brushed past her, following my nose to find this mysterious back room.

  I didn’t look back.

  Chapter Four

  Frankie

  I stood like a fool for over five minutes now, waiting for him to come back out from the restroom with a sheepish grin on his face. I had it all figured out; he’d stride over to me, admit he was a jackass, and sweep me off my feet with a kiss that would curl my toes.

  Damn him for being such a good kisser.

  I was still waiting five minutes later.

  Perching on his abandoned stool, I ignored the blatant leers and winks from across the bar, leaning back against the wall as I contemplated the enigma that was Abel. Was he playing hard to get? I’d always found him pretty straightforward in the past: he saw, he took, he conquered. And as the one being conquered more times than not, I hadn’t had reason to complain.

  Okay, the flirting had gotten a little heavy. No, not heavy … I swung my foot, searching for the right word. Serious. For a brief second it was like we had connected, or something.

  A very unladylike snort burst out of me. Gee, imagine that? Two people who want each other and like to fuck … connecting. Kinda obvious. I was imagining stuff that wasn’t there, building this whole thing up in my mind. But he certainly hadn’t helped matters, storming off in a huff.

  After admitting he cared.

  A warm feeling settled in my stomach. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I gave myself a mental kick in the butt.

  I was working here, and so far all I’d done was sit around mooning over a guy. I scanned the room, searching for my first mark. If I was going to win the challenge—and complete control over said man for one delicious and decadent night of frolicking and fucking—then I’d better get out there and work the room.

  One foot had barely touched the floor when Abel burst out of the back room, his wide frame plowing a path through the crowd, the sheer fear of being mowed down driving people out of the way. He moved with a powerful grace, his tight black T-shirt stretching across the same muscular chest that I’d been pressed against less than half an hour ago.

  His eyes met mine, but he didn’t slow. Satisfaction glowed in his pale gray eyes, along with a silent promise.

  Son-of-a-bitch! He had a lead.

  And then he was gone.

&nb
sp; I contemplated following him, nixing the idea before it had even grown legs. No way could I follow him without him knowing it.

  I tapped my chin, screwing my face up in thought.

  “Penny for them?”

  “Huh?” I looked up to see the bartender watching me, a look in his eyes I immediately recognized.

  Lust.

  I mentally shrugged, it was as good a plan as any. Spinning around, I leaned over the bar, giving him a bird’s eye view of my cleavage. “Say, I bet you know everyone around here?”

  He blinked, his eyes glazing over alarmingly.

  Hastily, I straightened up a touch, until awareness swam back into his gaze.

  “Sure. Most of them are regulars. I haven’t seen you around here before, though.” His face darkened in a scowl. “Or that boyfriend of yours.”

  “Oh, him? He’s not my boyfriend.” I waved a hand in the air, giving him a big smile. Huh? Maybe people did use the term boyfriend at my age?

  “Glad to hear it.” He braced an elbow on the bar, leaning his chin in his hand and flexing a bicep in my direction. “Take it from me, he’s trouble. I’ve seen his type before.”

  What? He knows about werewolves? I raised an eyebrow at him in question.

  “Drunks. I saw the way he hit that bottle. Not to mention the way he shoved you around.”

  I didn’t point out the multiple flaws in his argument. Or that Abel hadn’t shoved me, he’d grabbed. Lots of lovely, yummy grabbing. I let out a long, drawn out sigh. “Yeah. I always seem to end up with the wrong ones. Something about that bad boy image that attracts me, I suppose.”

  “Bad boy, huh?” Heat flared in his eyes as they traveled from my face back to my breasts.

  “Oh, yes. Turns out I can’t resist them if they’re rough and ready …” I lowered my voice, leaning closer, “…and a little bit mean.” I finished with a flutter of my eyelashes, reading him like a book.

  His groan was almost audible as he stared at me.

  I mean, he wasn’t a bad looking guy, albeit a little on the short side for my taste coming in at, if I had to hazard a guess, around five foot eleven. With thick blond hair, pale blue eyes and a well muscled body, he probably got lucky more times than not.