Convict: A Bad Boy Romance

by Roxie Noir

  Shifter Country Wolves

  Roxie Noir

  Author’s Note

  Betting on Wolves is an MMF menage novella about two wolf shifters who fall hard for a human.

  It’s still a romance. But it’s a romance about two men in love who meet a woman and also fall in love with her. Everyone loves everyone. It’s great.

  There are no explicit M/M sex scenes, but if gay romance just doesn’t do it for you, this book might not either.

  1

  Houston

  The gate opened, and the kid on the steer busted out of the corral and onto the sand-covered arena. All the spectators held their breaths at once, a hush falling over the crowd.

  The clock ticked. Houston was so close that he could hear the animal’s hooves pounding against the sand as it bucked and twisted, running and leaping, going hell-for-leather to get his rider off.

  Next to him, his mate Jack let out a long, low whistle.

  “Kid’s good,” he said to Houston. The two of them were standing up against the barrier, as close to the action as they could get these days.

  “He is,” said Houston, his own eyes glued to the action. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty, maybe twenty-one, and now he was starting to slip off the steer, his face a vision of concentration and agony.

  The clock hit eight seconds. The kid tilted more and more. Nine seconds and he was thrown, landing hard but then rolling over all in one motion, getting on his feet and running like hell for the safety of the corral.

  Gracefully, the rodeo clown swooped in to distract the steer, while a couple of cowboys waiting in the wings roped it.

  Jack and Houston both exhaled at the same time, and the buzz of the crowd crescendoed again as people began to stand from their seats, coming down out of the bleachers.

  Jack was grinning, shaking his head, beer in his hand as he leaned against the concrete barrier between himself and the arena.

  “The steers they got these days,” he said. “I wouldn’t last two seconds on one of them.”

  “Well, not now,” said Houston, nodding at the arena. “These guys are nineteen, twenty? You’re old enough to realize you’re gonna die someday.”

  Jack chuckled.

  “Don’t look so worried,” Jack said, a sparkle coming into his bright green eyes as the skin around them crinkled, just slightly. “Every time I think of getting back on one of those things, my ribs start hurting all over again.”

  Houston took a long drink of his own beer, draining the flimsy plastic cup.

  “Good,” he said, and then tossed it in a trash can five feet away, right in front of a blond woman wearing a tight white denim jacket, curls cascading down her back. She wore some of the tightest pants he’d ever seen.

  Houston turned back to his mate, Jack’s eyes still on the blond.

  Glad we’re on the same page, he thought wickedly. They usually were, especially when it came to women.

  “Promise?” Houston asked, grinning.

  “Promise,” Jack said, grinning back.

  Houston kissed him hard, grabbing Jack’s belt and tugging the other man’s hips against his own.

  “Disgusting,” said a fat, older woman as she walked by, giving them a death stare.

  “Right in public like that,” said the man with her, who looked like he’d been muscular at some point maybe twenty years earlier.

  Houston pulled back. The blond woman had walked behind him, and he could see Jack’s eyes tracking her as he thought.

  “Nah,” Jack finally said. “I think she’s got a wedding ring on.”

  Houston turned to take a look at the same time that she peeked back at them, a faint blush on her cheeks. The moment she saw Houston looking at her she turned her head back around quickly, putting one manicured hand on the arm of the guy next to her.

  Houston shrugged at Jack.

  “Her loss,” he said.

  “Let’s go find another drink,” Jack said. “Plenty of women in Vegas, right?”

  They sauntered out of the enormous arena, following the crowd of people out onto the sidewalk, then into the main casino. Even though it was barely 6 p.m., it always felt like midnight in a casino to Houston, with all the flashing lights and loud noises. Casinos never had windows or clocks, after all — part of their strategy to make people gamble more.

  Jack nodded at a bar in the middle of the casino floor, filled with people who’d just been at the rodeo sitting on plush leather chairs and laughing at the tops of their lungs, jeans and cowboy boots everywhere.

  “I got my fill of cowgirls the last couple nights, to be honest,” Houston said.

  Not that he hadn’t enjoyed it. The blond two nights ago, the one with the cute accent and cowboy boots who’d handed Jack her panties, then winked and walked to the women’s bathroom? He’d forgotten her name already, but he’d sure enjoyed their time together.

  The brunette with dark eyes, olive skin, and a definite twang to her speech the night before? Bella, or Beatrice, or something? It turned out she’d always wanted two men at once, and Houston and Jack were more than happy to oblige.

  Jack nodded, his eyes lingering on a girl wearing a plaid shirt tied around her midsection and cutoff shorts. Houston understood every inch of Jack’s look, the unnameable hunger behind his green eyes: despite trying harder than anyone they knew, they still hadn’t found their mate.

  Well, trying was a generous term. Since they’d met in their mid-twenties, they’d always assumed that, sooner or later, one of their conquests would turn out to be their mate, and then they’d settle down with her.

  Only, that hadn’t happened. All the other wolf shifters in their pack were happily mated, getting married, expecting, and Houston and Jack felt stuck in the same pattern they’d been holding for years. They’d briefly tried dating, even internet dating, but it had never gone well. Besides, they had a bit of a reputation back in Rustvale.

  Houston was starting to think that she didn’t exist. Part of him just wished that he could somehow know that she didn’t, so he could go ahead and settle down with Jack on their ranch instead of constantly wondering whether they’d find her.

  They walked back outside into the cool desert air, the neon everywhere making the street nearly as bright as day. Jack nodded at a casino with a replica Eiffel tower standing outside it, then looked at Houston.

  “That looks like a classy place,” he said. “Want to give it a shot?”

  “Why not,” said Houston.

  Inside, they sauntered over to the casino bar, got two Jack Daniels on the rocks, and turned to watch the floor.

  Cocktail waitresses walked around, but Houston and Jack hated to bother someone who was at work. As his eyes roved over the casino floor — maybe a redhead tonight? — Jack elbowed him in the side.

  A gaggle of girls, five strong, was walking across the casino floor, laughing and giggling to each other. One of them spied Houston and Jack, standing there, then said something to her friends. Moments later, all five were whispering and giggling to each other, tottering on their too-high heels, their hips wiggling back and forth in their tight dresses.

  Obviously, they were going somewhere. Dinner and a club, most likely.

  The girls changed course, coming toward the bar. They were all human, which didn’t surprise Houston at all. Human girls were always the curious ones, the ones who felt especially naughty going to bed with two wolf shifters at once. Shifter women didn’t need to get drunk in Las Vegas to find shifter men for their fantasies.

  The leader of the pack was a blond with brown eyes, heavily ringed with eyeliner, and she stepped up to the casino bar, casting a glance in their direction before pretending to look over the bottles of liquor. The bartender patiently placed five cocktail napkins on the glass bar surface, totally bored by the game already.

  “Get you a drink?” the bartender asked.

  “What kind of vodka do you have?” she said, her voice coming out breathy and high-pitched.

&nbs
p; As the bartender rattled off vodka brands, Houston exchanged a glance with Jack, then together, they sauntered toward the girls.

  “Could we buy you ladies a drink?” Houston asked.

  They tittered. Two looked at each other. One was already turning bright pink, and one was pretending to look at her phone and probably didn’t want to be seen talking to shifters.

  Her loss, Houston thought.

  “Sure,” said the leader brightly. Up close, her blond hair had brown roots, and she wasn’t quite as pretty as Houston had thought, but she was wearing a very tight, very short dress, and more than anything, had that look in her eyes. That I’ve always wanted to have sex with two men at once look.

  Houston was very familiar with the look.

  “Could we get five vodka tonics?” she asked the bartender.

  He poured the drinks, and then Houston paid the man, tipping well. He did wish that girls didn’t travel in packs like this. Being around other girls made it a little bit harder to get one alone with him and Jack, since girls seemingly didn’t want their friends knowing they had sex.

  Not that he and Jack got turned down often.

  Houston rejoined the group, raising his glass in a toast along with the rest of them.

  “To Vegas!” the head blond shouted, and Houston wondered how much she’d had to drink already.

  They all drank.

  “All right,” Jack said, addressing the girls. “Let me guess. You guys are here for a bachelorette party?”

  They all laughed.

  “No,” said the girl who’d been looking at her phone. She had her arms crossed in front of her.

  “It’s your birthday,” Jack guessed, looking right at her.

  “It’s mine!” said the head blond, playing with a strand of her hair.

  “You get everything you asked for?” Houston said. He took a sip of his whiskey and let his eyes travel over her body: the tight dress, the long legs, the high heels, and felt himself begin to warm up a little.

  Fact was, they weren’t picky. Both of them just liked women, as long as they were together for the act. As they’d gotten older, they’d liked women more and more, an unscratchable itch that never stopped.

  Not yet, anyway. Houston had a pretty good idea what might stop it.

  He just didn’t know if they’d ever find her.

  “Almost everything,” she said, blinking at them like she was trying to be coy.

  “You wanted a birthday spanking, didn’t you?” asked one of the other girls, wearing a strappy black dress.

  “Ashley!” the head blond squealed, though she didn’t blush.

  “Don’t lie,” the other girl said, glaring at her friend jealously. Houston looked her over, too.

  I’d take her, he thought. I don’t think she’s as interested as the blond, though.

  Behind the girls, someone else came up to the bar. It was another woman, wearing a high-necked, knee-length sparkly silver dress, and she stood casually between two stools, asking the bartender a question.

  Suddenly, Houston couldn’t hear a thing that the girls said to him. He looked straight past them, standing taller for a better view. He felt like he was in a vacuum, all the air and sound sucked out of the enormous, noisy casino floor, and all he could see or hear was the new girl at the bar.

  Houston panicked, just for a moment. He’d been with more women than he could keep track of, but he’d never had a reaction like this to one of them.

  What the hell is happening? he thought. Am I having a stroke or something? Do I smell anything weird?

  He took a deep breath. Nothing but whiskey and cigarette smoke, regular casino smells. He still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the new girl.

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and he watched her perfect curves move beneath the silver dress, her honey-colored hair spill over one shoulder, and he felt lightheaded. The bartender smiled and showed her a tequila bottle, and she smiled back and nodded.

  Deep inside, he felt a tug at him, like something was trying to pull his spine out through his bellybutton, and the feeling left him breathless.

  I’ll kill the bartender if he’s flirting with her, Houston thought. His wolf bared its teeth, and he pushed it down quickly.

  “Hello?” the head blond was asking, starting to look annoyed. Then she looked over her shoulder at the newcomer, then back at Houston and Jack, simply looking confused.

  Houston ignored her, looking over at Jack. His mate’s green eyes had gone wide, an expression of total confusion and bafflement on his handsome face.

  Houston knew exactly how he felt.

  “Guys?” asked the blond, waving her hands in front of her.

  “Excuse me,” Houston said to the gaggle of girls, pushing through them. He heard one of them ask “What the hell?” behind him, but he couldn’t have cared less.

  The bartender was pouring her something from a nice tequila bottle, and he and the girl both looked up at Houston and Jack, the gaggle of girls squawking behind them.

  “Put it on my tab,” Houston told the bartender. Then he winked at her.

  She looked over, and Houston’s heart stopped for a moment. She had wide-set eyes, sharp cheekbones, light brown eyes, winged eyeliner, bright red lips.

  Going out for the night, Houston thought.

  She considered the two men for a moment, her pink tongue running over the very inside of her lip as she did.

  “No, it’s okay,” she said, still standing there. She took a wallet out of her purse. “I’m just grabbing a quick drink before I meet some people. I can’t stay.”

  “I insist,” Houston said.

  “No,” she said, frowning at them, a second of hostility flashing in her eyes. Jack put a hand on Houston’s back, and Houston gritted his teeth, forcing his wolf down. Without breaking her eye contact, she handed the bartender her card.

  The bartender ran her card and she signed for the drink, thanking him. The bartender pretended to file the receipt, but Houston could tell that he was paying attention to the drama instead.

  “Can we get your next drink?” Jack asked.

  “I’m only getting the one,” she answered, placing the strap of her purse back on her shoulder.

  Then she put her drink to her lips and considered the two of them. As she did, the gaggle of girls from before walked past, laughing and giggling again, a little drunker from the free booze.

  Houston felt completely out of his element, and next to him, he could tell that his mate was floundering, too. This just wasn’t how it went with women for them: he insisted on paying for a drink, and they smiled and blushed and said thanks. Sure, they didn’t end up having sex with every single one, but turning down a free drink? That was new to him.

  “Who’re you meeting that you need a drink beforehand?” Jack asked.

  “Just friends,” she said quickly. She didn’t seem thrilled to be talking to them, but she didn’t move away, either.

  “Must be some friends if you need a drink beforehand,” offered Houston. “They always inviting you to Tupperware parties or something?”

  “My mom used to have a friend who wanted to sell her makeup every time they got lunch,” Jack offered.

  The girl just shook her head, sipping her drink.

  “Bad breath?” asked Houston. “Pick their toenails at the table?”

  “Steal the silverware at every restaurant, and you’re always afraid they’ll get caught?” asked Jack.

  The girl cracked a smile, and Houston’s pulse quickened.

  “This friend wants to be on Broadway and insists on doing vocal exercises at the table,” Houston guessed.

  She finally laughed, and Houston felt warmth pool in his middle, an inexplicable joy coming over him.

  “No,” she said, her shoulders relaxing a little as she laughed. “Nothing that bad. I got talked into coming to Vegas for a divorce party, and it’s all a little... weird.”

  Jack whistled low and leaned against a bar stool, his
long legs out in front of him.

  “I guess they’ve got parties for everything these days,” he said.

  “Some divorces are worth celebrating,” the girl said, looking into her glass. Then she took a long drink, the tequila half-gone.

  “Is it like a bachelorette party, then?” asked Houston.

  He and Jack were familiar with bachelorette parties. Never the bachelorette herself, but there was invariably a hot, single bridesmaid along for the weekend.

  “Right, but worse,” the girl said. “Tonight we’re going to an overpriced restaurant and then a nightclub. We went to see a male strip show last night, and I think it was one of the strangest things I’ve ever done.”

  She sipped the tequila again, the clear liquid almost gone. Houston felt the germ of panic start in his gut.

  “Too much baby oil?” Jack asked.

  She nodded, half-rolling her light brown eyes.

  “Here’s the thing,” she said, narrowing her eyes and looking from one to the other. “All the guys doing the strip show come off as pretty gay, you know? Which is fine, but as a straight lady, I don’t really get anything out of that.”

  She’d started to turn pink, a shade that Houston found deeply appealing.

  “And they’re just so... flex-y, and muscle-y, and hairless, and I just got the feeling that they’d be way more into each other than into me.”

  “What if you got to watch?” Jack asked.

  Houston straightened in alarm, his heart clenching.

  Damn it, don’t ask her that, Houston thought, even though it was a pretty standard for them to ask. Come on, Jack. She’s a lady.

  The girl raised her eyebrows, looked into her glass, finished her drink, and looked back at the two of them.

  “That would be a pretty different show,” she finally said, the pink on her cheeks deepening. “I bet you could make good money from it, though.”

  “I’ll start talking to investors,” Houston said drily.

  The girl stepped forward and set her empty glass on the bar.

  “You sure we can’t buy you one more?” Jack asked.