by Beverly Rae
She’d had a lot of men compliment her and tell her how sexy she was. But she’d never had any man say anything more beautiful. “I’d like to get to know you better, too.”
His blue eyes deepened as she scooted a few inches away from him. “Good idea. If I touch you again, I may not be able to stop myself.”
She smiled, turning her to head to stare into the water. A fish swam by, its body a shiny streak. She loved that he wanted to get to know her better. But how much would she tell him? That she’d sent the dreams? She was almost certain he knew, but once she admitted to sending the dreams, she’d have to tell him about her pack. A pack moving into another’s territory was always a touchy situation at best. “So what do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with the silly stuff. Like what’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite food? Do you vote Democrat or Republican?”
“Hey, don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask about religion or politics? Do you want to start a fight?” She held her fists up and pretended to punch him.
He dodged away from her jab. “Okay, then stick with the food and color.”
“Good move. My favorite color is pink.” She made face at him. “Yeah, I know. Girly. But what can I say? I like pink. Hot pink.”
“At least the hot part makes it a little better.”
“My favorite food is a thick steak. Rare and oozing with blood.”
He nodded. “Mine, too. The bloodier the better.”
“And as for the other? I’m not religious, and I’m a GDI.”
“What’s a GDI?”
“That’s a God Damn Independent. I don’t vote party lines. I vote for the person running.” She ached to touch the wolf tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. “I like your tattoo.”
“I like yours, too.” He slid his gaze downward to her waist then back up. “And I like the wolf logo on your helmet.”
She pulled her hair back. His gaze followed her movement and she sensed his growing need for her. A need that matched her own. She hoped he wouldn’t ask why she had the wolf logo. If he did, she’d have to lie.
“Okay, on to more info. Like where you were born. Do you have any siblings? What are your parents like? You know. The general personal information.”
The panic she’d felt a moment earlier faded. “Okay. I was born in Oklahoma and I don’t have any siblings. My parents died when I was two so I really don’t remember them much. My auntie raised me until I took off on my own at sixteen. Then I lived on the streets for a few years and did a lot of growing up.”
“Damn. Sounds like you had a rough start. But that explains why you can handle yourself.”
She wanted to tell him how Miss Louise had found her and given her the choice to join the Walker Pack, but now wasn’t the time. “It was hard, but I’m fine. I’ve been on my own since then. Until I hooked up with my best friend, Lauren. We, uh, live with each other.”
“She was part of the group at the bar, right?”
She darted her gaze away from his intense one. “Yeah. We’re more like sisters than friends. I’m close to the others, too. We’re all friends.”
“Shit. With friends like that Linda girl…” He let her fill in the rest of the phrase.
She laughed. “Yeah, she can go a little crazy at times.” Time to divert him away from her.
“So how about you? We’ve covered your food and love of tattoos, but what about family?” Would he tell her about his pack?
“Not much to tell. I never knew my dad. He left my mother when he found out she was pregnant with me.”
“Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t resist touching him then, had to comfort him. The electric sexual surge whipped into her hand and, in seconds, raced through the rest of her body. He felt it, too, leaning closer a moment before jerking back.
“Yeah, he was a jerk. But it’s all good now. I live on the Matheson Ranch.” He paused as though waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he moved on. “I live with a bunch of my friends. We’re kind of a pseudo family. We stick together, help each other. They’re more like my brothers and sisters.”
She’d heard about the Night Runner Werewolves, of course. Jackson had told the entire pack about them before coming here. “Sounds great.”
“It is. We all have our thing. Mine’s working as a bartender. Do you work?”
“Off and on. When I can get work. I’m a photographer.”
His smile sent shivers of a good kind down her spine. “Ah, so you’re a creative type. I’m lousy at anything creative, so I envy you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t envy me too much. At least as a bartender you get a regular paycheck. Now everyone’s got a digital camera or a cell phone. Which means I’m not finding much work.”
“Don’t worry about it. Once people see how good you are, business will pick up.”
She laughed, surprised at how much his praise meant. “You haven’t even seen my work, so how would you know I’m any good?”
He stared straight into her soul, his expression earnest. “I know because you’re you. Someone like you wouldn’t do something if you weren’t good at it.”
Screw getting to know him. She wanted him so much her pussy throbbed in despair. “Nick.”
She leaned toward him, her gaze locked on his lips. He did the same and the air charged with sexual energy. She needed his kiss, hungered for his kiss.
A screeching sound startled them, breaking the spell. Tamara jumped to her feet and searched around her. Had Jackson found them?
Chapter Five
Nick took her hand and squeezed it. “Hey, calm down. It’s only a cat.”
“A cat?”
He tilted his head to a tree behind them. A calico cat perched on a high branch, its body hunkered close to the limb, its ears laid back.
“Tamara, meet Sugar.”
“Sugar?”
Nick strode over to the tree and looked up, his hands fisted on his hips. “Sugar is Candace’s cat. For some reason, she likes climbing trees.”
“Then what’s her problem?” The cat let out another screech, loud and high-pitched.
“Here’s the thing. She likes to climb trees, but she stinks at getting out of them.”
“Should we call the fire department?” She stepped back when the cat let out another wail.
“We only have a volunteer fire department, and I doubt the guys would like being called away from their regular jobs to get a cat out of a tree.” Nick stood back and studied the tree.
“But isn’t that what fire departments do?”
“Naw. Besides, Sugar and I are old friends. Sometimes I’m not so sure she doesn’t do this as joke on me. Just give me a second.” Nick bent down and leapt, grabbing hold of a lower limb.
No one other than a werewolf could have jumped that high. She watched, spellbound, as he climbed up to the branch Sugar clung to. The cat spat at Nick, then took a swipe at him and almost fell off.
“Be careful, Nick.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve done this a lot.” Nick edged out over the limb, inching closer to Sugar. Suddenly the cat leapt in the air.
“Shit!” Nick lunged for the cat, caught her in midair, and lost his grip on the tree. He fell, flipping over once and landing on his back. Sugar screeched, twisted out of Nick’s grasp and scampered away.
“Nick!” Tamara fell to his side. “Are you all right?”
Nick opened his eyes and blew out a breath. He glanced around him and moved, wincing in pain. “Damn that cat. Next time I’ll just leave her to starve in the tree.”
Tamara rolled her lips under to keep from laughing. “But are you hurt?”
He sat up, clutching his lower back. “I’ll live.”
Relieved, she went to kiss him, but the ring of her cell phone interrupted. “Hello?”
“You need to get home right now.”
Her heart sunk to her feet as she stood. “What’s up?”
“Jackson’s looking for you.”
&n
bsp; “Okay. I’ll get there as fast as I can.” She let Nick get to his feet on his own. If she touched him, she might not be able to leave. “I’ve got to go.”
His eyes flashed with irritation. “Why are you always telling me that?”
“I’m sorry.” She turned to go, but he stopped her with one word.
“Don’t.”
Facing him, she saw the need, the ache she felt reflected in his eyes. “I have to.”
“At least give me your number.”
She shook her head, fearful to have him call her. What if Jackson overheard them?
“Then meet me again. Track me down here. Or we can meet in Lost Hills. Wherever. Call the bar. Candace will know how to reach me.”
She nodded then hurried away. Why did Jackson always get in her way?
* * * *
Nick checked his mirror again. But again, he saw nothing. He increased the speed of his motorcycle and tried to shake his disappointment. He’d hoped that Tamara would meet him on the road, maybe even challenge him to another race. But he was almost home from his quick trip into the small town of Lost Hills. He’d filled his gas tank faster than usual, even though the few townspeople he’d seen had given him a wide berth.
Would he ever be able to walk into Lost Hills without sensing every set of eyes on him? Would he ever have a chance of working at the town’s one and only bar instead of driving out to Gully Gap where fewer people knew about the Night Runners? Surely the pack had been around long enough to earn the people’s trust by now. But if they had, he sure hadn’t sensed it.
It didn’t matter. What mattered now was getting Tamara into the pack. After spending more time with her, just talking and watching her, he was more convinced than ever. She was his.
His mind drifted, remembering the highlights glistening in her hair, the red streak showing her wild side. Even now his cock twitched as he imagined her blue eyes clouded in lust. He shifted in the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position for the growing hardness between his legs.
The roar of several motorcycles yanked him out of his reverie. Twisting around to get a look, Nick’s stomach dropped as he took in the six motorcycles riding in a straight line behind him. He tried to identify them, but they didn’t have any gang name on their jackets and each of them was dressed only in black. Hell’s Angels they weren’t, but he had a bad feeling that they were a whole lot worse.
He took a turn faster than he should have, wanting to put distance between him and the riders. They matched his speed, staying directly behind, never trying to get to his side or pass him.
A nervous tingle tore up his spine, every werewolf sense coming to life. He was in danger. No doubt about it.
They traveled on the lonely road for another mile. He was still too far from the ranch or any other place where he could seek refuge. Taking a gamble, he swerved to the right and headed down a dirt path leading through thickets and brush.
Even with the sound of the bikes, he could hear their curses and shouts as some missed the exit. But they wouldn’t take long before they’d find the path again and come after him.
He reached into his pocket and dug out his cell phone. One glance tightened his neck. Dead. “Damn it.” When would he learn to keep his cell phone charged?
The noise of a rider revving his motor made him lean forward, pushing his speed as hard as he dared to go. He looked back and snarled at the gang hot on his heels.
Breaking into a clearing, he gave the gas all he could. He bumped over the ground, the impact jarring him. But worse would happen if he stopped.
Without warning, a motorcycle broke through the brush on the other side and almost ran into him. He cursed, jerked to the left and tried to stay upright, but speed and gravity weren’t his friends. He hit the ground on his shoulder, the air bursting from his lungs as his bike slid out from under him. Seconds later, two riders grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Nick tore off his helmet, dropped it to his feet and struggled to keep the fangs from erupting.
The biggest one of the group sauntered over to him. He took off his black helmet and handed it to one of the other men who had gathered around Nick. “That’s what I want to know.”
Nick glared at the large man. If he wasn’t a linebacker, the Dallas Cowboys were missing out. A scar ran along his right cheek, and hatred burned in the dark eyes.
“Do I know you?” Nick could almost hear William telling him to keep his cool, to try and talk his way out of a bad situation. He doubted reason would work with the snarling man in front of him, but he’d give it a try.
“Nope. But we have a friend in common.”
Nick pushed down the beast inside him that was urging him to rip the man’s throat out. “Is that so? Like who?” If a friend of his had anything to do with Mr. Snarly, he’d eat his helmet.
“Tamara Westland.” The big guy’s eyes twinkled in evil glee at Nick’s surprise.
“You have got to be kidding.” Nick glanced at the others, hoping to see the lie on their faces that he couldn’t see on their leader’s. “How do you know Tamara?”
“Name’s Jackson Walker.”
Jackson acted like the name should mean something to Nick. Nick shrugged. “And my name’s Nick Rogers. But that doesn’t answer my question. How do you know her?”
“She’s my mate.”
The punch to Nick’s stomach couldn’t have felt any worse if it had been an actual fist in his gut. “She’s your what?”
“My mate.”
“You’re telling me that she’s your mate? As in pack mate?” Things had just gone from bad to terrible. The beast inside him hunched, ready to strike at the opposing pack.
“Maybe not yet. But she will be. She’s already part of our pack.”
Tamara was a werewolf? Female werewolves could change packs if their intended mate wanted them to. But did Tamara want to leave her pack for him? “I’m guessing you want her. Am I right?”
“She’s mine. We just haven’t made it official yet.” Jackson stepped closer, putting his face an inch from Nick’s. The stench of alcohol and cigarettes almost choked Nick.
“Then she’s not taken.” Nick waved a hand in front of his face. “Damn, dude, take a breath mint or gargle, will ya?”
He landed flat on his back before he even saw the fist coming. A kick to his side was followed by another, then another, until all he could do was curl up and protect his head. The werewolf side of him roared to life, clawing his insides, ready to fight. But he knew if he gave in and shifted, the pack would do the same. He was no match for six werewolves. Instead he’d live to fight another day.
Jackson grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head up. He snarled into his face, his fangs showing. “Listen up, pussy. Leave Tamara alone. I know you were with her earlier, and if I hear about you sniffing around her again, I’m going to stomp you so far into the ground that they’ll find your body in China.”
“Don’t you think that’s her choice?”
“No. It’s not. I say what happens.”
Jackson backhanded him. Blood filled his mouth. He turned onto his back and spit it out. But he wasn’t about to say nothing. “She’s my destined mate, man. You can’t change that.”
“Just watch me.”
“You’re full of shit, Jackson.” He rolled over, struggling to get on his feet. He’d fight for Tamara even if it meant losing his teeth. Or his life.
The heart-wrenching sounds of metal bending ripped through him. He looked up and rage tore into him as one of the pack swung a baseball bat at his bike, time and time again.
Nick tried to dodge the fist coming toward his head, but he couldn’t move fast enough. Pain seared through his head, and darkness threatened to take over.
One of the other men chuckled then landed a hard blow to his left side. Nick gritted his teeth and swallowed back a groan. No way would he give them the satisfaction of hearing his agony. “What pack are you?”
/> Pride showed on Jackson’s face. “This is my pack. The Walker Pack. We were here once when my father ruled things. Now we’re coming back and taking over. Tell that to the pups in your sorry pack.”
Taking over? Like hell they would. But Nick had to make it home and let the others know first. No use in arguing the point now. As much as he wanted to beat the pulp out of Jackson, he had to play it smart. He’d get his revenge later.
“Go fuck yourself.” Nick tried to sit up, but a swift kick to his ribs doubled him over.
“Pass the message along, asshole. And remember. Tamara’s mine.”
Laughter and snarls followed Jackson’s declaration as his pack mounted their bikes. Sending dirt flying around Nick, the pack drove back the way they’d come.
“Aw, hell.” Nick lay on his back, his arms outstretched. The sun blinded him and he closed his eyes, needing the time to regroup. He stayed there, spitting blood and dirt from his mouth until, at last, strength returned to his body.
He got to his knees, then his feet and stumbled toward his bike. “Shit.”
His bike was wrecked. What hadn’t gotten torn up in his tumble had gotten beaten up by the pack. “Now that’s just plain cold.”
* * * *
Sara held a hand over face to shield her eyes and squinted at the figure hobbling toward their home. “Who’s that?”
Cally and Mandy dropped their pruning shears and wiped the dirt from their knees, leaving the flowers they were planting. They, too, squinted at the figure.
“It’s Nick and he’s hurt.” Instead of running toward him, Cally whirled around and dashed up the steps. She slammed the front door open and ran inside. “Max! Michael! Everyone get out here. Nick’s hurt!”
Sara made it to Nick before Mandy and skidded to a stop. She bit her lower lip and tears stung her eyes. Blood soaked his shirt and dried on his face. “Oh, Nick. What happened?”
She took his arm, letting him lean on her. Mandy took his other arm as they headed toward the pack stumbling out of the house.
Michael and the others took over and half carried him to the porch bench. “What the hell happened to you?” Nick winced when Michael pulled up his torn shirt to look at his injuries. “Did you crash? Where’s your Harley?”