Cowboy's Barmaid: A Small Town Military Romance (Lucky Flats Ranchers Book 2)

by Piper Sullivan

  She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and winced at how bad she looked. Reaching up to tentatively touch the sizable cut on her cheekbone, she gasped and nearly dropped the mirror when Roman’s face shimmered in her reflection.

  “Roman?” she asked softly and ran her finger over the flickering surface.

  “Josephine?” their combined reflections demanded. “I can barely see you. How are you doing this?”

  She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, unable to offer a solid explanation.

  “I’m just looking in a mirror,” she explained. “I don’t know how any of this mating business works.”

  Roman’s face lit in a relieved smile.

  “I can hear you perfectly, so that means you’re closer than we thought,” he admitted. “Can you tell me anything about where they’re holding you?”

  So for the next fifteen minutes, Josephine went through the description of the parking garage and the move, then the description of her room.

  “That’s all I know,” she confessed sadly. “Roman, you should take the Scroll and save your father.” She stopped talking when her breath hitched. “You don’t owe me anything and there’s no guarantee that they’ll even let me live if you let them have the Scroll.”

  Roman’s gray eyes narrowed angrily back at her.

  “I’m not giving them the Scroll and I’m not giving you up either,” he replied harshly. “My men and I will find you, just stay alive,” he demanded. “You hear me?”

  Josephine nodded and smiled.

  “Rafe is forcing me to have dinner with him and some guest, what should I do?” she asked.

  “You do what he says,” Roman answered succinctly. “You go along with him, tell him anything he wants to know. We’ll find you soon, I promise.” The mirror surface shimmered once more and she stared at her own reflection. Roman’s was gone.

  “Easier said than done,” Josephine murmured and gently laid the mirror on the bed. After rummaging through all the new clothes, she chose a cream cashmere sweater and chocolate brown pants. Her black heels were scratched up from her kidnapping, but she was sure she could clean them up satisfactorily enough.

  Steeling herself for an unexpected night, she headed into the small bathroom to begin getting ready.

  Once she was pleased enough with her appearance, she tucked the small mirror into her pants’ pocket and paced the floor in front of the door. It wasn’t more than thirty minutes before another knock heralded her escort.

  She frowned when the same volatile waif pushed open her door and stood back for Josephine to exit.

  “Follow me,” the girl barked and then pulled the door closed before setting off down a dimly lit hallway. Once they reached a dead end, Josephine watched as the girl turned left and descended a set of wooden stairs.

  As they moved to a lower floor, across a foyer and into a dining room, Josephine realized they were in an old, abandoned farmhouse. She wondered if that’s what Roman had meant when he’d said she was closer than they’d thought. Could the farmhouse be close to Roman’s country home?

  “What happened to her face?” Rafe demanded harshly and grabbed the girl by the upper arm. “I told you not to harm her,” he growled and backhanded the girl before shoving her into Marty’s arms.

  “Get her out of my sight,” Rafe snarled and then turned back to face Josephine, his face morphing from an angry sneer to a delighted smile. She found herself wondering if all the wolves were as dysfunctional as Rafe and his pack. Were they all just as insane? She remembered Robert telling her that not all wolves fed upon human prey, but in facing the maniacal man/wolf before her, she couldn’t help but believe the entire species was just as bloodthirsty and savage.

  She shrank backwards when Rafe lifted his dirty hand toward her face. He stopped with his hand in midair and chuckled lightly before sweeping the same arm toward a chair behind him.

  “Please,” he invited. “Sit with us.”

  Josephine brushed past him and sat in the offered chair. When Rafe moved around behind her and helped push her chair closer to the table, she looked around at the other guests. She wasn’t surprised when she saw two more werewolves seated when them, but when her eyes lit on the third person, they widened in shock. The fourth guest sat directly across from her and she could tell right away that he wasn’t a wolf or human. His hulking frame and tall statue gave him away as nothing else could.

  He was a bear. One of Roman’s own men had betrayed him.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you Ms. Baxter,” the bear greeted and extended his large hand across the table for hers. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” he bragged.

  “I wish I could say the same,” Josephine snapped and merely stared down at his extended hand with blatant disdain. “But I have no idea who you are.”

  “Apologies,” Rafe said from the head of the table. “Josephine Baxter, meet Christopher Williams. He is Roman’s first cousin and the soon-to-be Williams’ heir. Once Roman is dead, that is.” Then turning to face Christopher, Rafe smiled, revealing his wolf teeth yet again.

  “Am I correct in assuming you two – ” he trailed off and waved his finger between Josephine and Christopher, “share a mutual friend?” he asked conversationally.

  “Oh yes,” Christopher hastened to answer. “I believe we do,” he agreed and turned back to Josephine. “It was Clara Stewart who suggested I contact you to begin with.”

  Josephine’s stomach dropped. Now it all made sense. She’d found it incredibly lucky that Clara’s old high school flame had gotten drunk enough to talk about a secret society she’d researched for years. She had wondered how Clara, who knew nothing of history, had gotten the inside scoop when she had failed to, but she’ dismissed it from her mind in all the excitement of landing a new job.

  Now the only question was whether Josephine had been the target all along or was she just the unlucky historian who’d gotten the job?

  “I thought you said that with Roman’s father dead, he would be forced to form a new treaty with the wolves, why do you need Christopher?” she asked Rafe.

  The werewolf laughed and reached for the tarnished silver cup before him. Raising it high in the air, he waited for the other three men to mimic his action before turning his attention back to Josephine.

  “That was the plan,” he admitted. “But when Christopher came to me with an alternative, it was too good to be true.”

  “And what exactly is the alternative?” she demanded angrily turning flashing eyes back on the man/bear across from her.

  The beast had the audacity to smile and wink before tossing back his cup.

  “Easy darling,” he drawled. “I’ll become the new heir once Roman is dead and the wolves won’t need a treaty, they can have all the territory they desire.”

  “You’re selling out your family for power and position?” she asked.

  Christopher nodded proudly.

  “Of course, I’ll get to marry you once Roman is dead, so I consider that a nice bonus,” he added and Josephine’s blood turned to ice in her veins.

  “I’m not the Princess,” she informed him. “I’m just a lowly employee.”

  “On the contrary,” Christopher argued and motioned at the near healed wound on her neck. “I beg to disagree with you. He’s bitten you and the bond has begun to form. For all intents and purposes Ms. Baxter, you and Roman are mated.”

  Chapter 11

  Josephine didn’t say anything else throughout the mockery of a dinner Rafe hosted. She didn’t touch the food they placed in front of her from fear that it was human. She’d learned that the other two wolf/men were leaders of packs from neighboring states.

  Apparently, they weren’t really happy with Roman’s father either. The mere fact that the Bear Clan dictated all the other supernatural beings’ hunting grounds enraged them on a frightening level.

  She’d recalled Roman mentioning other shifters and such, but she’d never imagined that their existence went back eons. While
she studied the dishes placed before her, she listened as the other men devised plans to put Christopher in control once Roman and his father were dead.

  Then they began drawing out territories for hunting grounds. She found the way they talked about humans, as though they were nothing more than cattle, sickening.

  She’d also remembered Roman telling her that there were rituals that needed to take place before the succession could be transferred from leader to heir-apparent. If these renegades managed to kill both Roman and his father, how could Christopher take over without completing these rituals?

  Would Roman even inherit the leadership if his father died before the rituals were complete?

  “And that’s where our lovely little historian comes in,” Rafe drawled and all eyes zeroed in on Josephine.

  “Excuse me?” she asked. Considering she hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation at the time, she had no idea what she was expected to do. Rafe chuckled, prompting the other men to laugh as well.

  “It’s easy,” Christopher drawled and pulled a roll of parchment from his inner jacket pocket. He gently placed it on the table between himself and Josephine and motioned for her to take it.

  She reached forward and scooped the ancient document into her hand. As an afterthought, she unrolled her napkin and used it to handle the vellum. Oils from her hands could potentially damage such a delicate material. Using the napkin corners, she managed to unroll the document on the table and quickly scanned the contents.

  Her eyes widened once she’d successfully translated the text, which appeared to be in Akkadian, an ancient cuneiform language was used between 2800 BCE and 500 CE.

  “No,” she murmured. “It can’t be.”

  “Oh, but it is,” Christopher bragged triumphantly.

  “Do share with the class,” Rafe commanded and brought his glass to his lips for another sip. Josephine knew that after this, she would be in need of a stiff drink herself. No matter how many times her eyes roamed over the text, she still couldn’t force her mind to comprehend or accept what was written.

  “Why does this even exist?” she demanded and shoved her chair back to stand before the men. She drew herself up as high as possible and tried to look down her nose at Christopher as he smirked at her.

  “Why doesn’t Roman know about this?” she added.

  Rafe tilted his head back and laughed at her antics. If she intimidated him, he didn’t let it show. She knew she wouldn’t decipher the ritual for them, not in good conscience. She refused to be used as some tool to destroy the man who had become dear to her.

  “What is she talking about?” one of the other wolf leaders asked.

  Rafe narrowed his eyes at her and nodded once. Pressing her lips firmly shut, Josephine reclaimed her seat and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Very well,” Rafe acquiesced and turned to lock eyes with Christopher. “Why don’t you give us a brief run-down of what the sweet, little lady will do for us?”

  Christopher smirked at Josephine but reached across the table and snagged the parchment from her. She tried to grab for it, but he’d rolled it up and put it back in his jacket pocket before she could move.

  “My fellow Supes, what I have in my pocket is an ancient scroll containing a spell to sever the ties between a bear Patriarch and his clan. It successfully allows the heir to take his place without the required rituals,” he explained.

  “You tried to kill Roman’s father without making sure he had time to pass the throne to Roman,” Josephine murmured. “You had no idea a ritual was needed in order for the heir to inherit control.” Her eyes shot to Christopher’s and she shivered under the pure evil that stared back at her. “What would have happened to Roman if his father had died without the ritual?”

  “The clan’s magic would have died with the old man,” Christopher explained. “The leadership would have passed to another branch of the family and the Williams’ would have become human.”

  “Wouldn’t that have put a kink in your plans?” Josephine challenged Rafe.

  “Which is why I’m so thankful that the new heir-apparent saw the need to inform me of my slight mistake,” Rafe answered and slammed his glass down onto the table. “I think that it’s time for Ms. Baxter to be escorted back to her room,” he added and waved for someone standing just outside the dining room.

  Josephine allowed herself to be led back to the dingy room and then paced the floor as worry gnawed in the pit of her stomach. It soon became clear to her that even though Christopher knew the Scroll detailed the steps to the certain ritual, he couldn’t read the text himself and nor could anyone else.

  They needed her to translate it for them and that was something she refused to do. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled the little mirror out and stared deeply into it, willing Roman’s face to re-emerge so she could relay what she’d learned.

  After several minutes of simply staring at her own frustrated expression, she tossed it on the bed in annoyance. Time was quickly running out for Roman’s father and if Mr. Williams died without the needed rituals, Roman’s entire family would turn human and eventually die.

  She couldn’t understand why Christopher was the only one who knew of an ancient ritual that would allow Roman to sever the ties between himself and his dying father; which prompted her to wonder just who Christopher truly was.

  “Oh, I would kill to have my cell phone right now,” she huffed in exasperation.

  After pacing for another hour or so, Josephine’s body finally began to tire. She grabbed the mirror, tucking it safely back into her pocket and crawled into the middle of the bed, tucking a blanket around her. As she drifted off the sleep, she thought she heard Roman’s voice in her head.

  She knew she had to be dreaming because he was telling her that he was almost there.

  ***

  A massive explosion woke her from a deep slumber. Jolting straight up in the bed, Josephine sat still a few moments and nursed her racing heart. Not sure she’d heard anything at all; she jumped when another loud boom echoed just outside her window. Her adrenaline jumped into overdrive and she scrambled to free herself from the blanket.

  Luckily, she managed to get off the bed before a large portion of the cracked ceiling rained down on her.

  She heard shouts, both from inside the house and out. Hearing footsteps in the hallway, she moved toward the door. Suddenly it exploded in on her and the blast sent her sprawling to the floor.

  Squinting through the dust, she saw a massive, hulking frame silhouetted in the doorway and relief flooded her, but that welcome emotion only lasted a brief second.

  “Get up,” a deep guttural voice barked and she recognized Christopher Williams beneath the fur partially masking his humanesque features.

  “What’s happening?” she asked and got unsteadily to her feet. But instead of moving toward the beast, she took a few steps deeper into the room. She had no idea why he was only partially shifted, but memories of how Roman had lost control when he’d touched his mother’s statue rushed back to her. Fear reached up and grabbed her in a chokehold. She sure as hell didn’t want Christopher attacking her.

  “I’ll tell you what’s happening,” he growled and strode into the room, grabbing her roughly by the arm. “Your mate has found us.”

  Even though pain sliced through her arm where he’d grabbed her, Josephine felt a measure of relief. He’d sprouted a thick beard, complete with sideburns, and small fangs peeked from between his lips, but Christopher still appeared mostly in his human form. His formerly pristine suit was covered in some sort of white dust and the material on his right-side pants leg was severed from the knee down and her eyes widened in shock when she saw a very hairy leg leading down to a paw as big as her head. She just hoped his control lasted long enough for Roman to find her.

  Swallowing her fear, she allowed Christopher to drag her into the hallway. She worried that by struggling he would grow angrier and possibly hurt her more than she cared. With her feet par
tially dragging, she followed him down the dingy hall and then to the stairs leading down.

  However, the moment they came off the stairwell onto the first floor, the front door and part of the wall surrounding it, flew inward after another explosion rent the night air.

  Josephine found herself thrown to the floor yet again. The back of her head hit something firmly unyielding and a sharp twinge erupted at the nape of her neck, sending pain shooting up into her skull.

  Her vision wavered slightly, just enough for her to scream when an unconscious – and possibly dead – Christopher fell atop her, successfully pinning her body completely to the hardwood floor.

  Loud bangs and brief flares of light continued to erupt around her, the commotion causing dust and other debris to rain down everywhere. She tried to free herself of the bear’s dead weight, but couldn’t so much as move a toe.

  Suddenly a small group of men converged through the gaping maw, rifles retrofitted with red beams of laser light, spreading out into the dark room around them.

  A fully shifted werewolf burst in from the dining room, his huge furry body sailing through the air, his gaping snout grabbing one of the new arrivals on the arm. The soldier snarled and when the sound emerged like a bear’s roar, Josephine frowned in confusion. Suddenly she didn’t know if she was being rescued or kidnapped from her kidnappers.

  Since Rafe had a bear in his back pocket, it was kind of difficult to decipher whether she was safe or not.

  One of the men converged on her and it didn’t take her long to realize it wasn’t just armed possible bear shifters attacking, but soldiers, clad head-to-toe in black tactical gear. When the man offered her his outstretched hand, Josephine frowned up at him. Was he friend, or foe?

  “Ms. Baxter?” the soldier asked from behind the black visor of his helmet. “We’re Colonel Williams’ platoon, we’re here to get you out,” he gently informed her. “Take my hand,” he ordered more forcefully. “The roof can come down any moment.”