SHADOWS OF A WOLF MOON Book 5: RISE OF THE ARKANSAS WEREWOLVES

by Jodi Vaughn

  In the beginning, she’d liked the way men looked at her with lust and adoration when she stepped on stage. In the beginning, it had filled a void in her chest that hadn’t been filled in a very long time. In the beginning, stripping had been fun.

  When Big Mike, the owner of the Triple X, had taken an interest in her, she’d been flattered and had thought he truly cared about her. He’d showered her with pretty words and pretty flowers. They’d quickly developed a sexual relationship, and she’d thought it was the real deal. But as time passed and she witnessed how he couldn’t stay faithful, she’d realized she didn’t mean anything to him.

  So she’d broken it off but continued to work in the club because she couldn’t find another job. His attention had quickly turned to the newest stripper who came into the club looking for a job.

  She learned the lust and adoration men felt toward her never turned to love. The men wanted her body and what she could give them. She was a fantasy.

  She’d contemplated returning home to Jonesboro, Arkansas to her parents’ house, but she never followed through. She’d listened to Big Mike when he told her she was worthless and that her own parents would disown her after she’d shamed the family by taking her clothes off.

  She’d believed him.

  And in the end, she stayed.

  Her fingers brushed the cool metal of the cross.

  Jill. Before she’d left the club, Jill had given her one last hug and whispered in her ear.

  “Don’t be ashamed of your story, Catty. Your mistakes will inspire others. Sometimes you have to just let go and take that first leap of faith.”

  A thick heaviness settled over her heart.

  Jill would go on, reach her dreams, and make a difference with her life. She’d probably find a mate, settle down, and have a family.

  Unlike Catty.

  Peeling off her clothes, she walked toward the bathroom. The tea would have to wait.

  She needed to get the stench of the strip club off her body and out of her soul.

  ***

  “I accept this mission. What do you need me to do?” Lucien had made it to Barrett’s office before the sun was even up.

  “This is completely under the radar. If the other Guardians ask where you are, I’m telling them you’re on a road trip on the Pig Trail.” Barrett took a sip of his coffee and met Lucien’s gaze.

  “But we’re already short-staffed. They’re not going to believe you.” Lucien had heard chatter among the Guardians about having to pull overtime. They weren’t going to like it if he was suddenly gone on vacation.

  “They won’t dare question me.” Barrett reached in the desk drawer and pulled out a cheap throw-away cell phone. He tossed it to Lucien, who caught it. “Use this if you need to report in. Leave your personal cell phone behind.”

  Adrenaline spiked his veins. He studied the floor as something stirred in his gut.

  “I know it’s always bothered you, Lucien. That the ink wouldn’t take over your…”

  “Charred flesh?” His lips stretched into a sarcastic smirk while his eyes hardened.

  “I was going to say ‘scar.’” Barrett narrowed his eyes and sat back in his chair. “As I mentioned yesterday, the fact that you don’t carry the Guardian tattoo is one of the reasons I’m sending you. You’ll discover that what you consider a weakness is your biggest strength on this mission. You don’t need anything that will identify you as a Guardian.”

  His heart gave an angry squeeze and pumped hot blood through his veins.

  Every time the Guardians were initiated, it was Barrett who took them to Jonesboro to get their Guardian ink. When it had been his turn, Barrett had made the show of taking Lucien to the Moon Goddess despite knowing the tattoo wouldn’t take.

  His first thought had been that Barrett was doing this to embarrass him, to shame him because of his deformity.

  Barrett had told the tattoo artist, Matt, he was going to do Lucien’s tatt himself.

  Once they were alone in the tattoo shop, Barrett turned to him. He said he knew Lucien’s back wouldn’t take the ink. He told him his heart and dedication to being a Guardian meant more than just some fucking ink.

  He’d locked the door and turned on the TV in the corner. They’d spent hours playing video games, neither saying anything other than the occasional curse word when they managed to get killed in the game. Hours later, they headed back home to Little Rock.

  “Remember this, Lucien.” Barrett’s voice broke his train of thought. “You watch your ass like never before. If someone in New Orleans even thinks for one second you’re a Guardian, you make damn fucking sure you change their mind. Do whatever it takes. You’re going to be alone on this trip, and I need you to make sure you get your ass back here in one piece. We clear?”

  “Crystal.” He wouldn’t get caught. He had a lot of work to do, including finding his brother.

  Barrett narrowed his eyes and then looked away. “There’s more.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t tell you everything yesterday.” Barrett put his elbows on the desk and leaned in. “There was a list in that package. With the names of all the Arkansas Guardians. They’d crossed off Heimy’s name. And they put a star by Mitchell’s name.”

  “So they are hunting us.”

  “So it would seem.” Barrett’s eyes hardened. “Your name was missing from the list.”

  A mixture of emotions— part relief, part offense— rumbled around his chest.

  “That’s why you’re sending me. I’m invisible.” Hatred for his brother grew.

  Silence stretched between them.

  “This isn’t an easy assignment, Lucien,” Barret said.

  “That’s why you gave it to me. To make sure it’s handled correctly.” He stood and stuck out his hand. Barrett gave him a tight shake. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I never thought you would.”

  ***

  Jaxon watched from the shadows as Lucien entered Barrett’s office. Usually when there was a meeting, they were all included.

  Not today.

  Lucien had joined the Guardians not soon after he had. He felt like Lucien had held himself back, kept himself from really being part of the Pack. He suspected it had to do with whatever fucked-up past the werewolf continued to drag along with him.

  Jaxon knew what it was like to watch someone haunted by their past until it swallowed them up like a giant crater.

  Shit was cancerous. Ate away at your soul until you were a walking zombie.

  He didn’t want that for Lucien.

  He glanced at his watch, then bent his neck from side to side to side, stretching out the stiffness in his muscles.

  He contemplated, for a brief second, knocking on Barrett’s door. But he knew better than to bother his Pack Master when he had a meeting behind closed doors. Barrett would rip Jaxon a new one and make him enjoy the trip to the ER.

  If Lucien needed to talk, then he knew where to find him.

  ***

  “Home sweet home,” Lucien mumbled as he pulled into the busy city of New Orleans a little after four.

  The heat from the engine of his Harley rose up and mingled with the heat from the asphalt. Sweat beaded and rolled down his head to his T-shirt, where it was quickly soaked up in the cotton material. The streets were lined with motorcycles, and he knew the dangerous pull of New Orleans had made them gravitate to the city.

  The light switched to green and he revved his engine, heading in the direction of Bourbon Street. The plan was to scour the city before heading over to his hotel. Barrett had made arrangements for a low-rent room because he’d look out of place in a high-end hotel.

  He needed to keep a low profile and gather information, then find his brother and take his revenge.

  The smells of Cajun food and Hurricanes saturated the thick air as he passed by rows and rows of restaurants.

  He knew the aroma wouldn’t last. The second he got near Bourbon Street, he would be faced with the fami
liar scent of vomit and urine from last night’s partiers.

  He turned the corner onto the notorious street. The stench hit him and he grimaced. With his heightened sense of smell, it was overpowering as the odor baked in the summer heat. He wondered how humans could even stomach walking down the street.

  New Orleans. Home to the all-night bender and never-ending street-pissing contest.

  “And they think animals are nasty,” he grumbled and pulled into a parking lot. Killing the engine, he set the kickstand and eased off the Harley.

  He slid his assessing gaze across his surroundings. People moved at a slow pace, wandering, drinking, and laughing. They seemed immune to the heat.

  The temperature bore down on him, like a demon from the sky, as it tried its best to bake him alive.

  His lips curled into a slight smile as he imagined Jaxon standing beside him bitching about him wearing his leather jacket in this Southern heat. Jaxon wouldn’t hesitate to rip off his T-shirt and walk around bare-chested in the city for all the females to admire.

  The sounds of car horns, the heartbeat of jazz, and the rumble of laughter reminded him of an old familiar friend. It’d been a while since he last visited New Orleans, but suddenly he found himself back in the flow of things.

  New Orleans. Attractive and inviting, and once it got you liquored up and addicted to the sounds of the street, you had to make a choice. Stay or leave.

  Unfortunately, he’d never had a choice. It was taken from him, along with his destiny.

  Now he had a chance to make things right.

  Now he had the chance to settle a score.

  Chapter Five

  “Finally. Food.” Barrett eased into the chair at the head of the dining room table. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten all day. Between attempting to gather intel on why his Guardians were being targeted and getting a positive DNA for Heimy on the tattoo, he hadn’t had the time or the appetite for food.

  “Where’s Lucien? I made a coconut cake for him, his favorite.” Granny frowned as she looked around the room while the Arkansas werewolves took their seats around her table.

  “Said he was taking off for a while.” Jaxon’s sharp tone had Barrett cutting his eyes at him. “Said that he was heading to the Pig Trail.”

  “Pig Tail? I haven’t heard of it.” Granny pursed her lips and looked at her grandson, Jayden. “What’s the Pig Tail? Is it a strip club for large women? I don’t think Lucien needs to be at some strip club.”

  “Jesus, Granny. It’s called the Pig Trail. Not Pig Tail.” Jayden scrubbed his hand across his face.

  Damon snorted.

  “Jayden, watch your language.” Granny’s eyes almost disappeared behind the wrinkles in her frown.

  Barrett sat back in in his seat at the head of the dining room table and watched the interaction with slight interest. He knew his Guardians wouldn’t have the balls to ask him where Lucien was. But there was one werewolf who wouldn’t hesitate.

  “Barrett.” Granny turned her hawk-eyed gaze on him. “Where’s Lucien?”

  And she never disappointed.

  “Where he said he was. Riding the Pig Trail.” He forked a large piece of roast beef onto his plate. Eating Sunday dinner at Granny’s house had become a tradition for their group. Since Granny had moved to Arkansas from Louisiana, the Guardians had kind of adopted her as their matron figure. Or mascot. He couldn’t decide which.

  “Why are you making Lucien a cake? Why does he get a cake?” Jayden mumbled as he spooned a healthy helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

  Haley, his mate, slapped Jayden’s hand when he dug in his spoon for another helping. “Save some for someone else, Jayden,”

  “Yeah, Jayden. Quit being a pig.” Damon’s tone smacked of sarcasm.

  “No, really, Granny. Why did you make Lucien a cake and not me? I’m your grandson.” Jayden’s brows drew together and he stabbed a piece of meat onto his fork.

  “It’s not your birthday. When it’s your birthday, I’ll make your favorite cake too. Or trifle. You do love my chocolate trifle.” Granny patted his hand before passing a large bowl of green beans to him.

  Damon snorted and whispered something to Jayden that sounded like “pussy.”

  Barrett shoveled a forkful of buttery mashed potatoes into his mouth, grateful he was left out of this conversation. The less he said, the better.

  “It’s Lucien’s birthday?” Jaxon’s head jerked up. He looked around the table. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I don’t think he wanted anyone to know. I had to drag it out of him while I was in line at the grocery store. That boy is more tight-lipped than you, Barrett.” She pointed her fork at him.

  “Lucky bastard,” Barrett mumbled and then shoved more potatoes in his mouth.

  Guilt ached in his stomach. Maybe he shouldn’t have sent Lucien on such a dangerous mission since it was his birthday. Who was he kidding? If he hadn't sent Lucien, then a lot of them might not see their next birthday.

  He’d had no choice. It had to be done.

  “That’s probably why he wanted to go ride the Pig Trail. To celebrate his birthday.” Damon shrugged.

  “Hey, we should go.” Ava, Damon’s mate and all-around troublemaker, brightened and elbowed Damon in the side. “We should ride the Pig Trail.”

  Damon gave a lustful look at Ava. “How about I ride you instead?”

  “Damon! No sex talk at the table.” Granny pursed her lips and then held up a finger. “Unless it involves my new line of vibrating panties.”

  Just like that, his appetite was gone. Barrett threw his fork down and pushed away from the table.

  ***

  Catty woke to the rhythmic, hypnotic strains of jazz drifting up from under her window, played by a lone saxophonist.

  While tourists and some New Orleans residents might find this a lovely way to wake up, she did not. Every time she heard the sounds of saxophone music, it made her stomach twist into knots. For her, it meant another night of working in the club.

  The light outside had faded to a light purple, soon to slip into inky darkness of night. Soon the energy of the city would change, become something darker, something stronger.

  Turning over, she grabbed her phone.

  Eight fifteen.

  She blinked, remembering what day it was. Tonight was her night off.

  She lay back and stared up at the ceiling. Her mind wandered to her friend.

  Jill was leaving, getting out, starting over.

  It was something Catty had longed to do but hadn’t dared voice, too afraid if she spoke it out loud it would disappear like wisp of smoke. Like a wish on a birthday cake, those hopes had to be kept silent until they grew into reality.

  Her phone shrilled to life.

  She grabbed it off the night stand composed of a stack of secondhand books.

  “Hello?”

  “We had one of the girls not make her shift, and we’re going to need you to come in and work.” Celine’s raspy voice made her heart sink.

  “It’s my night off. I haven’t had a night off for two weeks now.” Her stomach twisted. She’d planned on treating herself to dinner at Muriel’s Jackson Square, her favorite restaurant.

  “The club needs you.” Celine’s brusque tone was sharp and unrelenting.

  She caught the meaning behind Celine’s words. If Big Mike found out she didn’t show up for work, he might take it out on her with his fists.

  He’d never laid a hand on her, but she’d seen some of the girls after they’d refused to come in for a shift. They’d been short one night and Mary had had the night off. She’d made plans with some friends who were in town. When she said she couldn’t cover the shift, Big Mike had done a number on her. It had taken her two weeks to heal from the bruises on her face.

  She shuddered and cleared her throat. “I just woke up, so it will be a while before I’m ready.”

  “Good girl. Make sure you look extra nice tonight. There’s an urology co
nference in town tonight, so we are expecting a big crowd.”

  She flung the phone across the bed and stared at the piece of plastic. She contemplated tossing it against the wall and breaking it into a million pieces so she couldn't be reached. But it wouldn’t matter if she had a phone or not. Big Mike would find her.

  She kicked off the thin sheet wrapped around her legs and climbed out of bed. The weathered hardwood floors were cool to the bottom of her feet as she padded to the tiny bathroom. She turned the water on. Quickly shedding her T-shirt and panties, she stepped into the shower under the spray of tepid water.

  She longed for a day when she could have a steaming hot shower. Her studio was old and the water only got warm. But at least she had running water. If tepid water was all she had, she would take it. Hell, she’d take a freezing cold bath in the middle of an Alaskan river if she needed to.

  One day, maybe one day she wouldn’t have to have water to wash away the sins on her soul.

  Maybe one day she’d be white as snow.

  ***

  “Another one?” The pretty blonde bartender nodded at his empty beer bottle and gave him a sultry grin.

  “Sure,” Lucien said.

  She went about the business of popping the top off another bottle and sliding it toward him. He didn’t miss the invitation in her eyes, but he wasn’t interested. He was here on business. Not to get laid.

  “You new in town?” She rested her arms on the counter of the bar and leaned forward, pressing her large breasts up over the top of her skintight shirt.

  “Passing through.” He took a drink of his beer. The icy liquid cooled his dry throat but did little to cool the rest of his body.

  “Passing through alone?” Her eyebrow shot up as she ran her tongue across her lips.

  “Yes.” He kept his tone cool and averted his gaze, hoping she would get the hint.

  “Well, if you need anything, come see me. I’m working all week.” She grinned and straightened as a waitress approached and gave her a drink order to fill.

  “Know of any adult entertainment that might pique my interests?” Barrett didn’t know the name of the strip club where Catty worked, so he hoped the bartender could give him a place to start.