by Dannika Dark
“Count the money and let me know if that’s enough. If the extra work will cost more, then I’ll have to dig into my savings.”
He peered inside the white envelope. “That’s plenty.”
“I want to go with you to see her cousin, so give me a call when you plan to make the trip.”
“Hold up,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “That’s not the deal.”
I scooted my chair closer to him and softened my voice. “If you don’t let me tag along, I’ll find out the address myself and go alone. I’d rather you do the questioning since you know the right things to ask. I just want to make sure her baby is okay.”
Reno’s face relaxed and he gave a reluctant sigh. “Fine. I’m not about to grill a woman, so don’t expect me to pull out my gun and demand answers. She might remember Skye talking about strange calls or someone hanging around her too much. Look, are you going to eat that sausage or not?”
I gracefully stood up and patted his shoulder. “I love a man who can’t say no to a nice piece of meat,” I said suggestively. “Call me when you get the address.”
Reno was already polishing off my plate when I left the table. One of the new girls strutted by and I seized her wrist. “Do you see the caveman sitting at the table behind me?”
She peered over my shoulder. “Mmm. Sure do.”
“Bring him another plate, and pronto. But don’t waste your time hitting on him; he’s mated.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Coming up.”
I adjusted my purse strap and sat at the bar, staring at the blue clock on the right wall. Three more hours until noon.
So I waited.
After Reno ordered two more breakfast plates, he lingered awhile longer. I watched him from my spot at the bar. Wolves fascinated me. Especially how loyal they were to their mates. Not once did he look up at the stage with lust in his eyes. Reno was obviously a sexual man, but April must fulfill all his needs and then some. He only noticed the male customers, and he watched them closely. When Dean waltzed in and barked out a few orders, Reno sat back and clocked every move he made. I realized how exceptional Reno was at his job and why he made a good living as a private investigator. He wasn’t just on a case when he felt like it but seized every opportunity to collect information. He talked with a few girls and then the bartender before finally leaving.
Fifteen minutes after twelve, I slipped off the barstool and headed out. If Austin was a man of his word, then I now had a bodyguard keeping a respectful distance.
The bright sunshine pierced my eyes when I pushed open the door. The heat settled on me like a heavy blanket, and I slipped on a pair of designer sunglasses.
What I really needed to do was go shopping. The club didn’t pay for costumes or accessories—that came out of our own pockets. But if it helped garner more tips, then it was money well spent.
I located a novelty store, and after snooping around for a half hour, found a long plastic chain and a leather collar. Ideas for my next performance were bubbling, but I hadn’t quite figured out how to tie it all together. When I discovered costumes in a back room, I practically threw my money at the store clerk.
Bags in hand, I happily stepped onto the cracked sidewalk and caught a cool breeze that ruffled my hair. As I approached my car, which was parked off the main street, my pace slowed to a stop.
Someone had slashed my tires. I walked to the other side of my car and realized they had slashed all four of them. Annoyed, I looked up and down the street, wondering why no one had seen it and called the police. I pondered calling them myself, just so I could flirt with a man in uniform. We didn’t involve humans in our business, but I sure loved any opportunity to interact with the men in blue.
A loud engine roared in my direction and a gunmetal-grey Camaro screeched to a stop. “Get in, kitty cat.” Wheeler draped his tatted arm across the car door.
Was this a joke? If Austin had sent Wheeler to act as my bodyguard, then I was just going to have to—
“Whoever sliced up your tires still has a big knife, and now you don’t have a ride. I suggest you get in before I change my mind.”
I narrowed my eyes and walked toward him like a woman who had just caught her lover cheating with another woman. How was a man like him going to protect me? Wheeler came from Planet Asshole and didn’t even like women! I pulled open the heavy door, tossed my bags in the back, and got in. Before I had a chance to buckle up, his foot dropped onto the gas pedal like a stone and we took off.
“Is this how you normally pick up women?” I said, struggling to buckle my seatbelt.
“Look, I’m not about cloak and daggers,” he began. “Austin told me to watch you like a Peeping Tom, but that ain’t how this is going down. I chased the asshole who slashed your tires, but halfway up the street, I realized that might have been a diversion to get me away from you. And then I return to find your dumb ass hanging out in the street by the car, practically saying Take me! I’m all yours!” he said in a feminine voice, wiggling his fingers.
I removed a small clock that was adhered to his dash and tossed it out the window.
The car lurched. “What the hell did you do that for?” he snarled.
Cool air swirled through my hair and I leisurely straightened the wrinkles on my dress. “Each time you speak to me in that manner, I’m going to punish you, be it destroying something personal or striking you with my hand. But I won’t allow any man to berate me in such a patronizing tone. If Austin chose you, then I trust his judgment. But keep in mind your Packmaster wouldn’t approve if he found out you were harassing his mate’s best friend.”
He slanted his eyes my way. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise. Perhaps you should direct all that hostility toward the men who are slashing my tires with a sharp instrument.”
I jerked forward when he slammed the brakes at the red light and leaned over, getting right in my face. “And mayhap your impassive tone is what’s setting me off. So why don’t you drop some of that self-righteous attitude you carry around like you’re better than everyone else and just sit quiet for the rest of the ride? ’Preciate ya.”
His words cut me more than I allowed him to see. I feigned indifference and looked out the window while inside my heart constricted. I felt more devotion toward those I loved than he could ever fathom. Maybe I was too tough for some men to handle, but it was the only way to gain control in a world of dominant men. Wheeler had never proven himself to be anything but a man who held contempt for women, and he must have assumed because I was a dancer that I didn’t have a brain cell in my head.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked.
He slid on a pair of black shades. “Your place. I’ll have someone fix your tires and drive your car over.”
“Don’t you need my keys for that?”
He eased down in his seat, widening his legs a little. “Sweetheart, I’ve got friends with skilled hands.”
“That I don’t doubt.”
“Why is everything an innuendo with you?”
I chuckled softly. “I can’t help it. When someone is so uptight about sex, it just opens a door. Yours just happens to have a welcome mat in front of it.”
Wheeler’s cheeks flamed and I looked away in surprise. He really was uptight about sex. Sometimes I just liked to rile men up because they secretly enjoyed it, but now I was beginning to see the truth: Wheeler was sexually repressed. How curious coming from a wolf. I let my curiosity slide when we eased up to my apartment building.
“Stay here and keep the doors locked,” he said, tossing his sunglasses onto the dash. “Give me your keys, and I’ll make sure the slasher isn’t up there making himself a bologna sandwich.”
“All yours,” I said, dangling them in front of his face. One of the key rings caught his eye—a silver figure of a couple in a sexual position. He snatched them from me and stalked toward the apartment.
“Hmm. All that pent-up frustration,” I murmured, watching him climb the stairs.
“This should be interesting indeed.”
Chapter 6
Wheeler scoped out the apartment and stepped back when a fluffy cat slinked around his legs. “Jesus. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
He glanced inside her bedroom, which was bereft of color. White curtains, white carpet, and a white bedspread. Naya must have thought she was Snow-Fucking-White. The red chair in the living room stood out like a wound, as if someone had tried to stab this room with judgment. Some people you could figure out by taking a glance around their house—seeing how tidy they kept it, the shitty art they hung on their walls, and how many mirrors they owned. Naya designed her apartment as if royal sheiks would be stopping in for coffee and a hookah. Lexi had mentioned the wild parties Naya threw, but he wondered how it was possible she didn’t have stains on her furniture. Perhaps she didn’t have the kind of parties he was used to.
A deep chuckle rolled out of his chest when he imagined what she’d do to a man who spilled merlot on her sofa. For some reason, the mental image of her putting that man in his place brought him great amusement.
His phone rang and he pulled it out of his back pocket. “Speaking.”
“Wheeler? It’s Lexi.”
Shit.
“Where are you?” she asked in a slow, accusatory manner that told him she knew exactly where he was, or at the very least, who he was with.
“In bed with my cock buried deep inside—”
“All right, that’s enough. I know you’re at Naya’s, and if you’re with her, then I know for a fact nothing is buried anywhere.”
He nudged the furry cat away with his foot. “What makes you say that?”
“Because Naya goes for fat wallets, not fatheads. Look, I overheard Austin talking to you this morning. What’s going on?”
“Can’t say.”
Lexi was known for pressing her ear against doors. Shifters respected pack rules, but she was raised by humans and often let her curious nature run away with her, even if it wasn’t in her best interest to do so.
She gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m just going to assume that you’re there to help, but if Naya’s in trouble, I want to know. She won’t tell me, and I can’t make her. Just… just take care of her and make sure nothing happens. She mentioned a girl at work went missing, and now I’m worried that has something to do with why you’re there.”
Wheeler twisted the rod on the blinds and peered down at Naya in the car. She was holding a silver compact in front of her face and touching up her burgundy lips. He wandered to the open doorway and leaned against the doorjamb. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I’m trusting you. If it’s serious, see if you can talk her into staying with us.”
“Austin won’t go for it.” Wheeler tapped the toe of his foot against the frame to block the cat from getting out. “He’s not going to open his door for an outsider who might bring trouble to the pack. That’s the way things work in our world.”
“Well, I’ll just have a talk with him if that’s the case,” she replied in a defiant voice. “Is Naya in the room with you?”
“No.”
“Don’t keep me in the dark if something happens. Okay? And whatever you do, don’t drink her coffee.”
He shut the door and ambled down two flights of stairs. “Why’s that?”
“Trust me,” she said with a haughty laugh. “If she offers, just tell her you don’t drink coffee or that you’re on a caffeine-restricted diet.”
“Gotta run.” Wheeler hung up and tucked the phone in his pocket.
Naya’s dress blew up when she got out of the car and something shifted inside him when he saw her bronze legs. Naya’s body had a feminine curve that would make any Breed male with a heartbeat stop and look.
All the women Wheeler had bedded were skinny with light tresses, so the fact that a woman like Naya made him as hard as granite confused him. Arousal wasn’t even the right word, because that implied some level of restraint and control.
Wheeler repressed those thoughts and stopped in the middle of the grassy area. “All clear,” he said loudly, tossing the keys in her direction. They arced through the air, and instead of catching them, she put her hands on her hips and watched them slap against the concrete in front of her. With demure grace, she crouched down and lifted them with two fingers. Women in service jobs knew the rules about bending over in front of Shifter wolves. Gestures like that were an invitation, so most had mastered the art of the dip.
But for just a fleeting moment, he wished she had ignored the rules.
***
I didn’t break stride when I breezed past Wheeler. We had similar personalities, and so as long as he didn’t insult me directly, I could tolerate his condescending attitude.
Once I reached my apartment at the top of the stairs, I unzipped my boots and held them between my fingers. “Take off your shoes, although I can already see I’m going to need to steam clean again,” I said, glaring at a few dirty spots by the door.
I loved an immaculate house. It felt like every filthy thing going on in my life was erased when I walked through the door. Little Maizy was the only one who appreciated my pretty furniture, and I always told her that a woman should treat herself like a princess and not expect anyone else to do it for her. While I hoped to find a good man someday who could give me a better life, I wasn’t holding my breath. So I pampered myself with little luxuries. There’s something so pure about the color white, and I surrounded myself with it. Anything that wasn’t upholstered was made of glass—such as tables—and the chairs surrounding my dining table were all white. The only colors in my apartment were a few jade plants and my red chair.
Lexi called it my throne, but I’d fallen in love the moment I laid eyes on it at a garage sale. Everything in my home had been purchased new except for that chair. Lexi used to love going on weekend excursions to thrift shops and garage sales. Never had I imagined I’d be buying used furniture with imperfections, but something about its antique regality appealed to me—even with all its imperfections. I felt more at home in that chair than anywhere else, as if something inanimate could possibly love me back.
So when Wheeler plopped down in it, my insides roiled.
“I’ll put on some coffee,” I offered.
“No,” he said tersely. “I uh… I don’t drink coffee.”
“That’s because you haven’t had my coffee.”
Only Lexi turned down my coffee, and that’s because she was always on a caffeine-restricted diet. I put the pot on and drew up the blinds in the living room to bring in the light.
“Would you like to sit in the dining room?”
“No.”
I pressed my lips together and pulled the barstools out. “Here. We’ll have coffee at the bar.”
“Not feelin’ it.”
I whirled around and clenched my fists. Suddenly, Wheeler’s brooding expression ebbed away, replaced with a look of satisfaction.
I had yet to see Wheeler in anything but sleeveless shirts that showed off his ink. Occasionally he’d put on a tight T-shirt, but I didn’t think he owned a single garment with buttons or cuffs. Aside from the tattoos, the one thing that swiftly caught my attention was his sparkling brown eyes. They were the color of caramel or sweet tea—just as pale and beautiful as you could imagine the color brown to be. They seemed out of place against the dark contours of his serious expression. Wheeler’s hair was brown, disheveled, and longer on top than on the sides. While he was a genetic copy of his brother, Ben, everything about Wheeler stood out.
Especially sitting in my apartment.
His eyes danced with amusement. “You don’t like people sitting in your chair, do you?”
“What makes you say that?”
Wheeler was about six feet tall, and he stretched out his long legs until his feet reached the edge of my coffee table. Then he put one heel on it, crossed his ankles, wiggled his toes beneath his white socks, and watched me for a reaction.
I tried
to smother it, I really did. But seeing my glass table teeter under the weight of his legs sent me flying into the room. “Let’s be adults about this, shall we? You can either sit in your car for the next twelve hours, listening to repeats of Lady Gaga on the radio, or you can show some civility and I’ll let you stay inside and watch television.”
His eyes flicked over to the TV and back to mine.
“I’ll get your coffee, Wheeler. Please try not to spill it.”
“You shouldn’t talk to a man like he’s a child,” he said in a smoky voice.
I peered over the bar while filling our mugs. “And you shouldn’t speak to a woman like she’s a servant,” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that?” he yelled.
I strolled into the living room and knocked his feet off my table with a nudge of my leg. I set the cup on a coaster and then took a seat on the couch.
Wheeler leaned forward on his elbows, glaring at the cup. “So why do you strip for money?”
I wasn’t offended by his candor. I preferred a man who spoke his mind. My mama had once told me that a woman should measure a man’s worth by how well he could carry a conversation, and the best kind of foreplay was verbal.
“Your packs can pool money together, but I’m a loner. It’s not as if I can simply go to college and get a great job at an insurance company; that’s the human world. If I were a Vampire, I’d have no problem getting a job as a bodyguard. But as it stands, I’m a Shifter. A female Shifter. That means that unlike you, no one is going to hire me as a bounty hunter. Tell me what I’m left with as a single woman to make a substantial income?”
“So mate,” he suggested, lifting his cup. “Isn’t that what your kind does?”
I sipped my coffee and set it on the table, my eyes fixed on the ink pattern on his bicep of a justice scale and dagger. “Do you think I’m not looking for a good man?”
He blew the steam from his mug and when he took his first sip, he began choking.
I furrowed my brow. “Something wrong with your coffee?”