Run Fur Love (BBW Tiger Shifter Romance)

by Catherine Vale

  Run Fur Love

  A BBW Paranormal Tiger Shifter MC Romance

  Website: http://www.CatherineVale.com

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  Copyright © 2016, Catherine Vale. All rights reserved.

  Published by Wildfire Press

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, brands, incidents, and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Run Fur Love

  Harley Myers could smell a shifter a mile away. And she could smell trouble, just as easily. And now, both were wrapped up in the drifter that sat at the end of her bar. He wasn’t one of her tigers, and she didn’t know what he wanted, but he was sending out enough signals that he was interested in getting her attention.

  Was he worth getting involved with? Hell, yeah. No guy like him had come her way in a long time. She’d just have to be careful. Being the leader of a motorcycle club had taught her that.

  Jericho Steele was an assassin, with time to kill. He’d found himself in this hole-in-the-wall pub, and thought there was no better way to kill time, than with the sexy girl behind the bar. She had more curves than a switchback highway, and he thought she would be just the thing to keep him occupied, until he found his target. He just needed to keep his shifter status a secret. The clubs here were close knit, and even though he was a tiger, his stripes would stick out like that proverbial sore thumb.

  But when the leader of a rival club thinks Jericho double-crossed him, and one of Harley’s brother is accused of a drug deal gone bad, both of them end up with targets on their backs. The only thing they can do now is stick together. And run like hell, until the smoke clears.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About The Author

  Other Books By Catherine Vale

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  Chapter One

  Harley Myers wiped a hand across her forehead. Her bar—her home—the Red Arrow, was hot: Montana was hot, and she was hot, even with the doors open and fans running in the windows. Maybe that made it hotter, but at least it let in the night air, the night sounds of crickets and big trucks way out on the highway. She smiled at the sounds of motorcycles outside. Her club members, coming in ones and twos, for a beer and some pool, bringing their wives or girlfriends. Or for some, the next in a string of one-night-stands.

  The place was getting crowded, and someone at the end of the bar slammed down their empty bottle, signaling the need for a refill. Her older brother, Duke Stanton, was supposed to have been here two hours ago for his shift, but he was a no-show. When she had the time—and when she’d calmed down—she’d have a talk with him. He was getting flakey around the edges lately, missing work, missing rides with the club, and generally just being a no-show for everything. She didn’t know what was going on, didn’t want to get involved in the guy’s private life. But...when it affected her life, she needed to step up, and say something. She hadn’t gotten to be the leader of this club by letting things slide, or being taken advantage of.

  Even if he was her brother, or maybe because he was her brother.

  But right now, she had thirsty customers, and a job to do. Someone called her name, a deep baritone that she thought she recognized. Van Sutherland stood at the end of the bar, waving his hand. She held up a bottle of beer and Van nodded, holding up two fingers. She grabbed another bottle, then walked down to the end of the bar. With a long-practiced movement, she opened the bottles, setting them in front of her friend.

  “You holding down the fort by yourself, Boss? Where’s Duke?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” The bottles were already sweating condensation, making rings on the bar. Van grabbed them, a frown pulling his brows down. “When did you see him last?”

  “We were supposed to go for a ride this afternoon, but he wasn’t home when I went by his place. I thought he might be here working.”

  “Well, he’s not. I haven’t seen him in days.”

  Van hesitated, big hands around the beer bottles, but not moving away. Harley waited; Van took a long time to come to what he had to say, but when he said it, it was usually worth hearing. So she ignored the calls for beer, and gave him her full attention. Finally, he looked up at her. His blue eyes were shadowed with concern, and it caught her off guard.

  “Have you seen Ember?”

  It wasn’t like him to be worried about her best friend. It was Harley’s turn to frown.

  “Not today, no.” She wanted to ask why, what business was it of his to know where Ember was? “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh. I just wanted to make sure she...wanted to know if she had any questions about that bike she bought from me.” He shook his head, a careful smile showing on his tanned face. “It’s too big for her, you know. But she had her heart set on it.” With a final shake of his head, he turned away.

  Something like relief knocked down the protective Mama Bear in Harley. She watched him, as he made his way back to the pool table, to his latest squeeze, a petite blonde; his usual type, and handed her a beer. Then they went back to their pool game, but she saw him look back at her, and catch her eye. It was clear, even across a smoky bar, that the conversation about Duke bothered him, or else the part about Ember bothered him. She’d always thought of Van as a sort of unofficial social director crossed with a hall monitor. He might be a player when it came to the ladies, but he had a heart of gold behind that big, burly chest when it came to the club, and to Harley. But to be honest, how Ember fit into all of this, bothered Harley, and she couldn’t stop wondering what was going on.

  Stepping back from the bar, she glanced at Bear, the huge bouncer, sitting on his stool by the door. Even though his expression was impassive, she knew he’d overheard the conversation about Duke and Ember. She gave him a raised eyebrow, that silently asked him what the hell was going on, but he only shook his head.

  “Harley...”

  She looked past Bear, her frown already easing. Ember was coming through the door, and right now a best friend was just what she needed.

  “Ember. Get your skinny ass behind the bar. I’m losing ground here. Duke bailed on me. Help a girlfriend out, will ya?”

  With a smile, Ember came around the end of the bar, grabbed an apron, and tied it around her waist. Harley reached out, and gave her a hug.

  “Sorry to pull you away from...” Harley nodded toward the crowd. “Who are you here with?”

  Ember was already looking past Harley, to the pool tables, picking out Van from the crowd. And it broke Harley’s heart to watch Ember’s brow crease, as Van pulled the blonde into his arms, and gave her a kiss.

  “I’m not here with anyone.”


  “Sorry, Em. Really.”

  Ember lifted her chin. “Whatever. His loss.” She gave Harley’s arm a brief squeeze. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Just jump in anywhere. They’re pretty thirsty tonight.”

  The girls worked side by side for the next hour, taking empties, passing back full bottles of cheap beer, and shots of whiskey, across the scarred wooden bar, bumping into each other and laughing. Harley thought maybe, just maybe, this night wasn’t such a loss after all.

  Then she caught a scent so strong, so outright masculine – so foreign to every other scent she knew - that stopped her dead in her tracks. That scent spun her around, nose in the air, looking for the source. And then she saw him.

  The guy was standing in the doorway, a battered leather pack slung over his shoulder. He was wearing a battered leather jacket, and the most devilishly handsome grin, on his face. She took a good look at him, as he stood in the doorway, her quick bartender’s eyes telling her that he was over six feet tall, and muscular in a way that said he came by it naturally, that he lived and breathed whatever that way as. More telling was the look on his face, that confident, sexy smirk that told her, he lived and breathed danger. One look, and you could tell that he was comfortable in his skin, and in his clothes. Those clothes were a t-shirt that was just as tight as hers, and faded jeans, that fit him well enough to show off all the good parts, but still easy enough to ride in. The rest of him looked slightly out of place, in a bar full of men with ponytails and beards. He wore a day’s worth of stubble, and his dark hair was clipped short enough to show his ears, and the round shape of his head.

  He was looking over the crowd, quickly scanning the groups of people that sat at the bar, or stood around the pool tables. It didn’t seem as though he were looking for someone in particular, but rather, looking at everyone to get a feel for the place. The look was casual, but there was an intensity beneath his laid back attitude, that said there was more to this guy, than just someone looking to wash the dust of the road out of his mouth.

  Bear-the-bouncer stood up, arms folded over his chest. Even from here, she could see him scenting the air, getting a sense of the guy. And obviously checking for weapons. She had to smile; shifters could smell guns, and knives a mile away. Since this new guy wasn’t a club member, Bear had been told to confiscate any weapons. But the two exchanged glances, Bear’s from beneath thick brows. Even though the rest of his face was almost swallowed by his beard, Harley knew he wasn’t smiling. Then Bear nodded, and so did the stranger, in that way guys do, after they sized each other up, and decided they were cool with one another.

  The stranger walked in, then eased onto the only empty seat at the bar, dropping his pack and jacket on the floor at his feet. Ember was at the other end of the bar, dealing with a biker yelling about something, or other. She wasn’t having any of his nonsense, giving him back as good as he was giving.

  With her heart revving a little in her chest, Harley walked toward the stranger, but she got stopped by one of the older guys, who practically lived at the bar. The guy liked to flirt with her, and even though he was old enough to be her grandfather, and even though they both knew this was going nowhere, they both enjoyed it. But tonight she was way too distracted, her eyes drifting to the gorgeous stranger, at the end of the bar

  “Harley, you’re looking mighty good tonight. You get those jeans painted on you? If they were any tighter I’d be able to see...”

  “Yeah, I know. You’d be able to see heaven.” She reached out, and patted the man’s hand. “Like they say, heaven’s just a sin away. Keep that in mind.”

  She gave him a smile, and walked down to where the new guy sat. His scent was stronger, the smell of shifter—tiger, same as her club—mixing with dust and fresh air, and something deep, dark, and masculine. He was clearly the sexiest thing she’d smelled in a very long time.

  “What can I get for you, stranger?”

  His eyes rested on hers for a moment, then moved lower, like a caress, finally coming slowly back to her face. It was a frank look of admiration, that sent a shiver down her spine. Suddenly, she was conscious of how she looked, that her t-shirt was just a little on the tight side, her jeans—well, her jeans were just as tight, always had been. And even though guys had looked at her before, this look was different. This guy looked at her like he knew what was beneath those jeans and that shirt…that he knew all her secrets. The look was trouble. But she’d never been one to walk away from trouble. Trouble she could handle. But this guy? Well, she’d have to wait and see.

  “Shot of whiskey, and a beer. Bottle’s fine.”

  His voice was road-dust rough, but underneath the edge, she heard the low purr of him. Yeah, tiger. Definitely.

  “Coming up.”

  She pulled a bottle out of the cooler, opened it, and set it in front of him. The whiskey, and the shot glasses, were right there behind her, but she walked down to the other end of the bar to get that glass. She knew damned well his eyes were on her, on the sway of her hips, the curve of her ass, as she bent down for no good reason, other than to give him a good long look. Two shot glasses later, she walked back toward the guy. He was toying with the beer bottle, slowly picking off the label. She grabbed the bottle of whiskey, poured a shot in both glasses, and pushed one across to him.

  “On the house. Seeing as you’re just coming in off the road.” She raised her glass. The man did the same, touched the glass to hers. In unison, they tossed back the shots. The liquid burned in her throat, in that good way, then lit her stomach on fire. As a rule, she didn’t drink on the job, but there was something in the air tonight, that told her to break that rule. And if she had a chance, to break some of her other rules, as well.

  “You’re not from around here.”

  “No, ma’am. I’m just passing through.”

  After the whiskey, his voice smoothed out, the gravel covered with a layer of velvet. Damn, he sounded sexy. And he looked just as good, as he sounded. Those clear dark gray eyes, like the deepest water at Lincoln’s Quarry, in the shade where the sun didn’t shine.

  “I’d say, based on the accent, you’re a long way from home.”

  “And what does my accent tell you?” He took a long pull of his beer, eyes never leaving hers. “How many miles am I away from home.”

  “East. Kentucky, maybe. Tennessee. Not much further south than that, though. Can’t tell you the miles, because I’m not a Rand McNally atlas.”

  Ember brushed past her, with a tray of empties, bumping her ass against Harley’s so she banged her hip against the bar. “Scuse me, Harley. Coming through. Some of us are trying to work here, you know.” She rolled her eyes at Harley, winked, moving on to whatever she was going to do.

  Harley held back an eye roll of her own, but guilt made her grab a bar rag, and at least pretend to work, wiping down the non-existent water rings on the bar.

  The guy took another swallow of beer and gave her a smile. It lit up those eyes, moonlight on quarry water, deep, fathomless. “What gave me away?”

  “Well, no one calls me ma’am, more than once. And you have a...” The unfamiliar feeling of a flush of heat rising in her face, made her stop. “You just don’t sound like one of us.”

  “Well, you’re right. Kentucky, eastern. Ashland, to be precise.”

  “You grew up with horses?”

  “I did. But Kentucky’s known for those.”

  “So what brings you all the way to Jenner’s Falls, Montana? It’s not exactly a mecca for tourism. Although we do have horses.” Jenner’s Falls was not in the middle of nowhere; it was where you went, after the middle. It was way out toward the edge, but she wouldn’t live anywhere else. The land was hard, giving its treasures up slowly. Between the horses and motorcycles, her friends, the bar—she thought she lived in the middle of paradise.

  “Guess you could say, I’m on the Great American road trip. I’ve been meandering my way to the Pacific Ocean, mostly through the northern stat
es. And this is one mighty big state. Seems I’ve been riding across Montana for days.”

  She held his gaze, trying to see past the words. Something was off with his story, but she couldn’t place it. Was he lying? She couldn’t get a handle on why his story didn’t sound right to her, only that it didn’t. There were too many signals coming from him, that casual exterior, a pretty good cover, for a whole lot of tension. But everybody had baggage, including her…especially her. Beyond all of that, overpowered by everything else, he radiated pure, unadulterated animal sexuality. It was starting to mess with her mind, and her body, but in a good way. A way she hadn’t been messed with, in a very long time, and she had to admit; she was enjoying his company.

  “Well, happy to have you here, at the Red Arrow. You ready for another?”

  “Only if you’re drinking with me.”

  Harley shook her head. “As much as I’d like that, I have work to do.” Ember had been back and forth a couple of times, hip bumps and eye rolls, and a smirk that hadn’t left her face.

  “I’ll take another shot then. And while I’d love to keep you all to myself, I’ll let you get back to work.”

  His words, and that sexy smile of his, sent a current of rippling heat through her body, tingling up her spine, till it reached her nipples, causing them to harden. She had to laugh at herself; a guy hadn’t had such an impact on her in so long, she couldn’t remember the last time. Smiling, she poured out a shot, and then on impulse, filled her glass as well. “What the hell. One more won’t hurt. Here’s to you, stranger.”

  That earned her another smile, another chance to watch those eyes, change from sunlit to moonlit. For a moment, the heat of the whiskey competed with the heat that rose up lower down somewhere between her belly button, and her hips. God, what she wouldn’t do for a little time with this guy. Time alone. But he was a drifter. Figures. The best men were only there for a minute, and then gone the next.