“Why?” she asked Bree.
“Is that a serious question?” Bree gave her an incredulous look. “Because they’re hawt, that’s why. I wanted to know everything about Shifters—wanted to sit next to them, watch them, be with them. It’s not necessarily only about sex. It’s about the experience. Remy, my brother, used to make himself up sometimes and go with me so he could ogle the lady Shifters.”
A hard-bodied man with buzzed blond hair who was in the living room with Seamus called to them. “We can hear you.” Remy’s accent was soft Southern with a touch of Cajun. The Fayettes had come here from southern Louisiana barely a year ago.
Bree winked at Addie. “But now that I caught me a Shifter of my own, I don’t have to dress up and go out. Well, not go out anyway.”
“Goddess,” came Seamus’s voice, sounding embarrassed.
Bree gave Addie a last mark with her pencil. “You look great. Shifters will eat you up.”
“That’s what I’m supposed to prevent.” Seamus moved to the bathroom door with his lithe ease. “No Shifters eating you. Not even touching. Kendrick will take my head off if they do.”
“I won’t let them anywhere near her,” Remy said. He looked Addie up and down as she moved around Seamus and out of the bathroom. His blue eyes, mirrors of his sister’s, warmed with appreciation. “Nice.”
Bree had dressed Addie in a brief, tight skirt, a tank top with spaghetti straps and a lacy bra beneath, and gold, glittery sneakers with red hearts on them. Addie had expected mile-high heels but Bree said that since they were going to a fight club, Addie didn’t want heels, trust her.
Addie had been given Feline makeup—the tip of her nose was black, her cheeks had drawn-on whiskers, her eyes were made up to look tip-tilted, and she wore a headband with fake ears on it. Bree also wore Feline makeup, and she’d complemented her costume with a short, lion-tufted tail.
Bree’s mother, Nadine, came out of the kitchen, muumuu floating, cigarette in hand, and gave them a once-over. “You look like a trashy pair of tramps. Good work, Bree.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Bree said dryly.
“No sex with anyone but Seamus,” Nadine said, turning away, cigarette smoke drifting behind her. “And even then, not where I can hear you.”
“Mom,” Bree growled under her breath.
“I like her,” Ben said from where he waited in the living room.
Remy grinned at Addie. “She’s winding you up. I’m proud to escort my trampy sister and her girlfriend. I have friends who’d shit themselves with envy.” He frowned. “Then I’d have to punch them for looking at my sister and her friend like that.”
“I’d be right there with you,” Ben said. “Let’s do this on the porch, Addie.”
Ben led her outside, where he’d already laid out bowls and measuring cups he’d borrowed from Bree’s mother. He lit a sage stick that he happened to have with him, and spent a lot of time wafting the smoke over Addie’s body.
The scent-removing spell consisted of lots of chanting and Ben throwing different powders—some were kitchen spices—over Addie and her clothes. She wondered if there was truly magic in this or simply a matter of confusing animal noses with peppers, cinnamon, cardamom, and nutmeg, not to mention the sage smoke.
When Ben was finished, he returned to the living room, already deep into a discussion of cooking with Bree’s mom.
Remy held out his arms to Bree and Addie, grinning hugely. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Bree drove Remy and Addie in the purring pickup to the fight club, which was in a grove fifty miles away, near the Colorado River that flowed through Austin on its way to the Gulf. At the end of back roads Addie never knew existed, they found a Shifter fight club.
This one was controlled by the East Texas Shifters, Bree explained. This was not technically Morrissey territory, though Dylan came here to fight as did his son Sean and many other Shifters from Austin.
Remy eyed his sister. “It’s uncanny how you know all this, Bree.”
Bree shrugged. “When I first moved here, I checked out everything Shifter, hoping to get lucky. I got so lucky, I found Seamus. I’ve come here a few times with him. He’s a good fighter, and did I mention hot?”
“Just don’t mention it to me,” Remy growled.
Bree ignored him. “When we go in, stick close to me, Addie. I’ll tell you which Shifters are all right to talk to—who will actually talk to you and not go all mating frenzy when you simply say hello to them.”
“And I really don’t want to know how you know that,” Remy said. He exited the truck and helped Addie descend.
Remy had a quiet strength, fine blue eyes, and a body that a woman wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Not only that, he had a sexy accent, and he was a gentleman. Addie should fall for him, not a huge white tiger with three cubs and abandonment issues.
But Addie knew it was too late. While she could admire Remy, like him, and knew she’d probably have fun with him, as soon as she thought about Kendrick—his green eyes, his white and black hair, his quiet watchfulness—all others faded before him.
Addison had been caught in Kendrick’s gravity, like a wandering star pulled into the glory of a supernova. Potentially lethal, but her end would be spectacular.
Remy seemed to understand this. His look was resigned as he went arm-in-arm with her and Bree toward the arena.
Shifter fight clubs favored abandoned barns or hay shelters, Bree said—they liked places with roofs to keep the light from being obvious to passing aircraft. They liked places hard to get to, to keep the police away or nosy neighbors from reporting them.
This fight club was in an old riding arena with a giant metal awning covering it. The place had been part of a ranch that had raised show horses, gone broke, and been abandoned years before.
One-on-one battles were already in full swing when they arrived, the arena lighted by braziers in metal barrels and every kind of battery-powered lamp a person could carry.
Plenty of humans were here, Addie saw. Mostly men, but a good scattering of women, dressed similarly to Addie and Bree.
Addie looked around with interest that wasn’t feigned. Many of the Shifters were unclothed, men walking upright and arrogant, wearing nothing but the Collars around their necks. No one seemed to think this weird, so Addie pretended not to be embarrassed by it. She’d take their bareness in her stride, as everyone else did.
Female Shifters didn’t fight in the fight clubs, so Bree had told her. At least, not in the Collared Shifter fight clubs. Seamus had expressed surprised at this, saying Kendrick’s Shifter females fought just as hard as the males, for fun or otherwise. Having met Jaycee, Addie believed it.
Speaking of Jaycee, she was there. She’d let her hair hang long and wore a shirt with a mandarin collar to hide the fact that she didn’t have a Shifter Collar. She paid absolutely no attention to Addie, nor to Dimitri on the other side of the arena, or Tiger, who’d walked in alone.
Addie saw that all Shifters, and humans too for that matter, gave Tiger a wide berth. They didn’t always do it consciously—whenever he walked by, humans and Shifters alike drew back and did not engage his attention.
Tiger didn’t seem to notice this, or care. His golden eyes in his hard face took in everything, including Addie, as though he memorized all in his path.
Shifters were crowded around a fight going on at the far end of the arena, and Bree led them there. In a ring marked out by a single layer of concrete blocks was a giant of a man with very short black hair and brown eyes. He fought, in human form, against a man who was part wolf, part human.
The beast had a wolf’s face, glaring gray eyes, a human-shaped body, and clawed hands. He and the man struck out, fought, punched, and wrestled, seemingly without rules. Five Shifter men hovered around the inside of the ring, watching the fight. The refs, Addie concluded.
The man-wolf furiously attacked his opponent—at the same time the larger man shifted to an enormous bear.
A Kodiak, Addie saw in stunned amazement. Holy shit, he was big.
The Kodiak roared. The wolf-man changed into a full wolf and leapt at the bear’s throat. The wolf was much smaller than the bear in this form, but very fast. The bear swatted at the wolf, the Collar around the bear’s neck emitting a shower of sparks.
The wolf’s Collar sparked too, but neither seemed to be bothered. The bear shook off the wolf, who landed hard on his back, but he was up again almost immediately. Dust exploded upward as the two came together again and hit the ground, grappling, rolling, grappling again.
They both gained their feet once more, the wolf snarling, the bear shaking himself.
Then the bear let out a roar and went for the wolf. The wolf sprang at him, jaws opening, going for the kill.
The bear swatted one great paw into the wolf, catching him square in the chest and sending him flying. The wolf tumbled through the air and landed with a sickening crunch on the cement blocks.
The refs ran to him quickly, making sure he was still alive. The wolf breathed, but heavily, his limbs askew, his Collar arcing. The look in his eyes, however, was not pain, but pure savage rage.
The bear flowed back down into the huge man, breathing just as hard. Everything about him was big—everything.
The bear wiped his sweating face with a towel a scrap of a woman tossed to him, and strode to the wolf, ignoring the cheers of victory around him.
“You all right, Broderick?” the bear asked, peering down at the wolf.
The wolf shifted, slowly, groaning with it, until he was a dark-haired man, his gray eyes holding the same fury.
“I’ll get you next time, Ronan. You fight like a girl.”
A large woman at the edge of the arena laughed. She bent at the hips to look down at Broderick. “If you mean he fights like me, you’re right.”
“One day, Becks,” Broderick said pointing at her. “You and me. One-on-one.”
“For fighting,” the woman called Becks said. “Or my soldier boy mate will shoot you.”
Broderick tried to climb painfully to his feet, groaned, and slid back down. “Of course for fighting. I have a beautiful mate. What would I want with you? Damn it, Ronan, I think you broke something.”
“I broke something?” Ronan rumbled. “You did, Brod. It wasn’t my punch, it was your landing.”
“Ha, ha, the bear is funny.” Broderick groaned and closed his hands around a brawny ankle. “I need a medic.”
“No, you need a healer.” Zander’s booming voice broke through, preceding Zander himself, braids and duster swinging. “Move your damn hands. You’ll make it worse.”
Broderick looked up at Zander, recognizing him. “Oh, great. Just what I need to make my night perfect—an insane polar bear with delusions of grandeur. What are you doing here?”
Zander, ignoring the refs who were trying to clear the ring, sank down on his heels and put his broad fingers on Broderick’s ankle.
“What am I doing here?” Zander asked, dark eyes wide. “Do you know what there is to do in the Arctic Circle on a Saturday night? Not a fucking thing.”
As he spoke, Zander skimmed his fingers along Broderick’s ankle, his mouth moving as he whispered words drowned out by the crowd.
Broderick clenched his fists, uttering one heartfelt groan. “Careful—that hurts.”
“I told you to hold still,” Zander said. He lifted his hand. “There you go.”
Broderick blinked and flexed his foot. “Shit. That was fast.”
“What can I say? I’m that good.” Zander took one step away, then he yelped and collapsed to the ground, grimacing. “Be with you in a minute.”
Addie couldn’t go to Zander as she’d have liked to, not wanting to let on she knew him. She knew, though, that now his own ankle bore the pain and weakness of the break. She hated to leave him hurting but she forced herself not to make eye contact. Zander, for his part, pretended not to notice her at all.
Broderick, on the other hand, came right for them. “Bree!” he bellowed. “And my favorite ass-kicker, Remy.” Broderick stopped in front of them. Addie sensed he wanted to embrace them, Shifter-style, then realized he was naked and sweaty. Shifters wouldn’t mind but humans might. He pinned his gray stare on Addie. “Who’s this?”
“Her name’s Addie,” Bree said quickly. “She’s a friend of mine. She’s new.”
“Great. You bring her in just in time to see me get my ass handed to me.” For a defeated Shifter, he was full of energy and fire. “Did you see that crazy polar bear heal me? Gives me the creeps, but hell, I can walk five minutes after I break my ankle. Hey, we should pit him against Tiger, see what happens.”
“Tiger doesn’t fight in the fight clubs,” Bree said. “Everyone knows that.”
“Yeah, well, maybe he could make an exception. I could win a pile of cash knowing Tiger could wipe the floor with him.”
Zander got to his feet and limped away, at the moment not looking as though he could wipe the floor with anyone.
Broderick let him go. “Where’s Seamus?”
Bree shrugged. “Around. I wanted to show my friend some fun. My brother decided to tag along and keep us safe.”
Broderick gave Remy a sympathetic look. “Good luck with that. Shifters here are wild tonight. Some vibe in the air I can’t place. But that’s East Texas Shifters for you.”
Broderick didn’t stay to exchange more pleasantries. He clapped Remy on the shoulder, then walked away, calling a challenge to another Shifter. His body was tight, and most female heads turned as he went by.
“Who exactly are we looking for?” Bree whispered to Addie. “And how are we supposed to find them?”
Addie wasn’t certain. Ben had described the Shifters he’d spied on, but the description could apply to any number here. Shifters fit a certain body type, and tatts and buzz-cut hair seemed to be popular.
Addie had never tried spying before, but being a waitress had been good training. People didn’t pay attention to a server—they’d natter on about family secrets, real estate deals, bank deposits, their own extramarital affairs, their struggles to get a brother out of prison, without ever noticing that Addie heard every word as she refilled their glasses. The listeners of the world, she’d realized, could amass an amazing amount of knowledge.
Bree and Addie, with Remy, moved through the crowd, Addie trying not to obviously watch anyone specific. Another match started between the tatt-covered Shifter Addie had seen in the San Antonio parking lot and another, more rangy Shifter.
The crowd loved it, their frenzied screams heightening every time one of the Shifters landed a blow.
“Spike,” Bree said into Addie’s ear over the noise. “The one with the tatts. He’s a favorite—a champion.”
Addie couldn’t see much of the fight through the mass of bodies around the ring, but the surge and ebb of the crowd’s roar told her when Spike got in a good hit and when he took one.
She also knew when Kendrick arrived.
Addie didn’t see him, not even a glimpse, but she knew with her whole being that Kendrick was there. Her body flushed, her need to turn around and search for him strong.
She knew that if she looked, she’d betray herself and him, but not looking was tough. She had no idea what the hell Kendrick was doing there when they were supposed to be practicing stealth, but she suddenly felt much better.
With the focus of the crowds on the fight, any covert activity would happen around the edges, where no one was looking, Addie reasoned. She slipped through the mass of Shifters and humans, walking nonchalantly toward the end of the arena as though doing nothing more covert than looking for the bathroom.
So it was that she saw a shadow detach itself from the scrub just outside the arena, m
ove to Kendrick, and Kendrick turn and walk away with the man the shadow belonged to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kendrick could barely breathe, could barely think as he followed the man in the hoodie away from the noise of the fights. When Ben had described seeing this person talking to the Feline Shifter he’d eavesdropped on in the bar, Kendrick hadn’t had any idea who it could be.
He did now.
Kendrick followed him through the brush until they came to more open ground. Stars sprawled, thick and white, above them, across the moonless sky.
“Kendrick Shaughnessy,” the man said. “You’re still alive.”
“And I thought you dead long ago,” Kendrick said, making his tone not betray the rage that filled him. “I remember killing you.”
“I survived.” The man shrugged. “Barely.”
He pushed back the hood of his jacket. The entire left side of his face was a scarred mess, left over from when Kendrick had raked it with his giant tiger claws.
“And now you hunt me?” Kendrick asked him, keeping his voice mild.
“Not necessarily,” the man said. “I came here at the behest of Shifters who needed me. Shifters who were tired of you.”
Only Lachlan McGregor, a half-human, half-Lupine Shifter would use a word like behest. He’d always been full of himself. And seriously evil.
What he was doing alive, Kendrick had no idea. The man had died—Kendrick had sworn that. Nearly twenty years ago, Kendrick and his group had killed Lachlan and breathed a sigh of relief to be rid of him.
Kendrick would simply have to kill him again.
“You ordered Shifters to fire bullets at me,” Kendrick said, maintaining the conversational tone. “Me and my cubs.”
“No, I didn’t. You know me better than that,” Lachlan answered, derisive. “The shooting was Ivan’s choice.” He scowled, his gray eyes filled with hatred. “Why did you kill Ivan? He was one of yours.”
“Because he was bent on hurting my cubs.” Kendrick moved carefully to a fighting stance, readying himself to shift if he had to.
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