* * * *
Sierra called Dax Williams the second she hopped out of bed at sunrise. Apparently he wasn’t a morning person. After setting a time to meet and texting Jeremiah, she chugged her first two cups of coffee, annihilating the rest of her creamer in the process, and tossed on a heather-gray tank top and a pair of jeans with fewer rips than normal. Lastly, she strapped on her ass-kicker boots. A knock pounded on her door, prompt as she’d expected.
“Come on in,” she shouted, not bothering to head in and greet the arrival at the pack house. She set her coffee cup in the overflowing sink and walked through the cabin she spent most of her time in, ten minutes away from her tangled ivy cottage down the road, one she loved to pieces. The wooden floorboards creaked under her heavy boots as she made her way into the living room. The door flung open, and Jeremiah sauntered in, a loose bag slung over one shoulder and wearing a canvas vest with bulging pockets, more than a couple of Swiss Army knife handles peeking out.
“Remind me why we’re helping this asshole again?” Jeremiah whined. She shot him a glare, eliciting a charming grin from the pretty man. As one of the taller pack members, he towered over her, his lanky frame hiding a deceptive amount of muscle. Based on his glossy chestnut waves and lashes long enough to make a model jealous, most dismissed him as a handsome face—their loss, because Streaky knew how to pack a punch.
“Because your darling alpha is a sucker for a sob story,” she muttered, grabbing her own canvas bag from the floor. “And because we’ve gotten big enough to draw attention, but we don’t have any alliances formed. As much as I’d like to say we could take ‘em all on our own, protection of this pack comes first. If we gain a strong ally from this favor, the time will have been well spent.”
Jeremiah snorted. “Still don’t think our best allies would be a bunch of cat shifters.”
Sierra fixed him with a look that had his hands rising in defense as together they strode out the door. “Hence why I’m the alpha and you’re not.”
She’d made unpopular decisions before and would again, but she always followed her gut. If she fucked up, she’d own her mistakes. Her gut instinct said Dax Williams and his merry band of kitty shifters told the truth. And as a fellow alpha, she could understand the agony at having your fight for leadership interrupted, the rage at the pack being split unfairly, and the shame at having to slink to another pack for help.
Sierra locked up behind her while Jeremiah hopped in the driver’s side of his jeep. He revved the engine as she joined him in the other seat, and with a rumble, they took off. Even though the early morning rays trickled down, the day already promised to be a sweltering one, and sweat pricked along her arms, making her wish she’d worn a looser tank top. Summers in Pennsylvania meant ample humidity, thickness she could suck through a straw.
Jeremiah pulled out onto the highway, and they set to flying, her hair streaming behind her and the sunshine pulsing a steady beat into her dark hair. The scent of motor oil tangled with the buttercups on the side of the road waving in the breeze, an intoxicating combination that enlivened her as much as the morning sun.
“We’re not stomping into enemy territory, are we?” Jeremiah asked, his gaze slipping to hers.
“Stomping isn’t what I had in mind—skating around it maybe.” Sierra leaned back in her seat, basking in the glow. “You’re being dragged along for your other skills.”
Jeremiah began fanning himself with one hand, the other firm on the wheel. “Don’t tell me you’re here to drag me in front of a slew of lovely ladies?”
Sierra shot him a glare. “Get your head out of your ass. Like I need more of you proud peacocks strutting around.”
Jeremiah snorted. “Aww, boss, I’m hurt. I’m guessing you need my lawyer expertise?”
“Bingo. You’ll be looking over a will. Leave the sleuthing to those who can handle it,” she teased. Hormones tended to rule among the Red Rock pack, whether hotheaded squabbles erupted over where someone parked their goddamn jeep, or someone slept with someone else’s boyfriend. Either way, most of the time she felt more like the pack babysitter than any sort of alpha.
Up ahead, the rendezvous point came into view, a roadside diner with a paste-white sign so bright it glared amid the fringe of surrounding forest. Jeremiah screeched to a halt first, popping on his blinker a second before he turned into the lot of Zip’s Diner. Red-and-white canopy decorated the length of the building to hover over the windows situated around the joint. The entire place stood no taller than one of the bigger cabins in Rickett’s Glen State Park, with a sign that spanned half the length of the building.
“Our shifter friend has impeccable taste,” Jeremiah said, his words coming out half-sneer. Not like Sierra blamed him—this place looked as inviting as a sewage plant. Yet the steady trickle of walker- and cane-accompanied folks coming in and out through the main doors was heartening, as was the packed parking lot. People were either satisfied or desperate.
“We’re not going here for him to wine and dine us,” Sierra responded, hopping out of the jeep before Jeremiah finished putting it into Park. Her boots thudded on the pavement, and the sun winked at her, glancing off all the bumpers and chrome in the parking lot. She tugged her glossy hair into a ponytail while waiting for Jer to join her. A familiar figure leaned against the whitewashed wall of the building. Sierra didn’t need to hone in to tell who waited; she noticed his presence as she would one of her own pack.
Dax Williams sauntered toward her with feline grace, his eyes simmering with amusement the second they locked gazes. His jeans hung low on his hips, and his white tee might as well have been plastic-wrapped on, providing a clear reminder of the chiseled six-pack she’d seen last night.
“They’ve got some great kibble on the menu here,” he drawled, eliciting a growl from Jeremiah. Her blood ignited. The man might be as pretty as a picture, but his smart-ass mouth ruined the package. Sierra contained her annoyance, offering a sweet smile while hiding her fangs.
“How considerate,” she murmured.
His brows furrowed in confusion. If he wanted to play power games, now that her temper had cooled and she tapped into a clear perspective, he didn’t stand a chance. She clapped a hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder. He had bared his teeth, two steps away from wolfing out around more than a couple of humans in front of this quaint diner. Perfect recipe for freaking out the norms. Their eyes met, and she stared him down with her patented alpha look. Sure, her wolf paced restlessly inside her, desperate to establish dominance with the newcomer, but Sierra steered this ship for a reason.
“Lest you think I came for witty banter,” Dax said as he made his way to the door and held it open for Jeremiah with a flourish. Jer folded his arms over his chest, refusing to budge. Save me from fragile male egos. Dax’s eyes glittered with unspent amusement, clarifying that the gesture was meant as a taunt.
“Streaky, he’s not asking you to marry him, just holding the door,” Sierra said, giving Jer a shove hard enough to send him stumbling. She followed through, shooting a glare at Dax as she passed. “And you’re no better. Taunting people you want help from is poor form. Shape up.”
Dax’s gaze darkened, and for a moment she wasn’t sure if they headed for a brawl right in the parking lot. Not uncommon with her kind. His breath hitched for a half second, but as sudden as a swerving car, he flashed her a hot-as-hell smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, following them into the diner. Jer had already claimed a booth right in the corner—best vantage point in the place—and he sat with his back to the outdated striped wallpaper. Sierra slid in beside him, and Dax sprawled out on the opposite bench. A waitress came bustling over, as hunched and withered as Sierra would expect from a place like this. Gray-stained teeth poked out with the woman’s smile as she took drink orders. After ordering her third cup of coffee for the morning, Sierra followed the waitress back to the swinging doors to whisper an extra order.
Dax’s gaze heated her the entire time. In fact, he’
d watched her from the second they arrived. Her pack had more than a couple of attractive, eligible males, but apart from the infrequent hookup, they viewed her as off-limits. Most considered her one of the guys, and everyone else found her status intimidating—she’d learned that the hard way. The brazen way Dax looked her over was new, as if he undressed her with his eyes.
Sierra slipped back onto the cracked vinyl of the booth as the waitress disappeared past the chrome swinging doors. “So whip out the goods,” she said, eliciting a smirk from him. Before he could respond with a guaranteed annoying comment, she continued. “You brought the will?”
He passed the stack of papers to the center of the table. “Human lawyers wouldn’t be the faintest lick of help in this situation, and no one in our pack practices law. So I’m not sure if this spells out why the elders of the pack interfered in our match or not.”
“I’ll be able to gauge that quick,” Jer murmured as he grabbed the documents. He’d already pulled his reading glasses out, thick black frames that hooked on his nose. The second the papers came into the picture, her packmate’s lazy, domineering behavior vanished, all signs of his temper forgotten. With the will on the table, Jer’s stare grew more focused, and his mouth pressed into a fine line as he scanned the hefty document. Even if he had broken so many pool sticks at Beaver Tavern over the years they added the expense to his tab, Sierra respected his professionalism. He was one of the best shifter lawyers in the region, and he’d chosen to run with the Red Rock pack.
“While he’s going over the papers, I figured you and I could sleuth around my old territory so you can see firsthand what we’re dealing with.” Dax fiddled with the spoon on the table. He must not be comfortable asking for favors, but the man was willing to bury his pride for the sake of his pack.
“Good,” she agreed, respect warming her chest. “We can scout out any areas the scent isn’t heavy, see if we can sneak in and find why these elders interfered in the first place.”
The waitress came out from the swinging doors carrying a tray laden with the drinks and an opened can. “Going to place some orders?”
“Stuffed french toast for me,” Sierra volunteered first, since her sweet tooth refused to be denied. Jer placed an order for a bacon-and-cheese omelet, while Dax went straight for the classic creamed chipped beef on toast with a side of scrapple.
The waitress placed the coffee in front of Sierra, two Cokes in front of the boys, and the can in front of Dax. “Courtesy of your friend,” the waitress said, directing a thumb at Sierra before darting away.
“Eat up, kitty cat,” Sierra said sweetly, unable to help the smirk claiming her lips. This revenge tasted much sweeter than a simple retort or spark of temper. Dax’s jaw dropped for a second as he stared at the opened can in front of him. “From what I hear,” she continued, “this place is well known for their tuna.”
He shook his head in disbelief, and his eyes sparked when they met hers. Until his shoulders started quaking, and a sharp laugh burst from him, surprising both Sierra and Jer. “See, smarts. That’s why we came to you, Kanoska.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she muttered, even though a flush rose to her cheeks. The concession didn’t satisfy as much as torment him, and she didn’t quite trust the prickle of heat spreading from her cheeks to her nape in response. Dax winked before he tugged his fork out and began shoveling the contents of the tuna can into his mouth.
Jer’s forehead creased when he glanced up from the papers. “You’re actually eating that?”
Dax shrugged. “Why not? Still decent food, and I worked up an appetite after my morning run. Beside we’ll need fuel before Sierra and I get physical later,” he said, the heat behind his voice making the suggestion quite clear. The sensuality of his statement traveled straight between her legs, a thrum begging for attention. Not as if she’d indulge.
Jer didn’t hold back the growl as he bared his teeth. “Don’t you dare talk about my alpha that way.”
Sierra squeezed Jer’s shoulder. “Thanks for being all worried over my honor, but the mean ole kitty cat will have to try a lot harder if he wants to get a rise out of me.” She fixed her gaze on Dax, challenge burning in her chest. “You worry about keeping up when we’re out in the woods. Don’t think I missed the way you had to catch your breath yesterday.”
He smirked, pushing the empty can of tuna toward her. “Depends on what sort of exertion we’re talking about.”
She shot him a glare in response.
In a matter of minutes, the waitress stepped in, bringing a tray full of food. Not like Sierra didn’t enjoy verbally sparring with Dax, but the man had a way of getting under her skin, and she didn’t trust the way her body reacted to him. The scents of syrup and cinnamon drifted her way, combined with the salty tang of meat, the crisp char of toast, and strong coffee.
The table lapsed into silence as they scarfed down food. With all the energy she burned while running in wolf form, she better get her calories in now. Dax and Jer dug in with equal gusto, and in minutes the plates had been emptied apart from a couple of crumbs. Once the waitress cleared the plates, Dax broke the silence.
“Since the niceties are now over, let’s get down to business,” he said, tossing a couple of crisp bills onto the table. “We’ve got territory to scout.”
“If our exchange until now is what you’d call niceties, no wonder your pack’s in trouble,” Sierra muttered, eliciting a razor grin from him. She added her crumpled cash to the table and squeezed Jer’s shoulder. “I’ll keep you informed. Thank you for helping me with this.”
He glanced over to Dax and then back at her, distrust clear in his eyes. “Call me if you need anything.”
Sierra nodded and then took the lead toward the exit. “Let’s go for a run.”
Chapter Four
Dax surged past Sierra in the parking lot, leading the way to his truck. He came to a stop in front of his truck, a sleek black beauty that had gotten him out of more scrapes than he could count. Wind rattled the tarp over the bed of the truck, which covered bags of cement leftover from his last contractor job.
“Hop on in,” he said, unlocking the car and slipping into the driver’s seat. The second he turned the ignition, the powerful engine thrummed under him, a wisp of control amid all this family bullshit he now dragged the Red Rock pack into. He rolled down the windows before gliding out of the parking lot and entering the highway.
Sierra leaned out the window, her forearm pressed against the frame as the breeze tangled strands of her long ponytail. Already the sun promised a scorching day, and blossoming sweat glued his tee to his chest. He tugged at the neck, gripping the steering wheel with the other hand as he zoomed across the asphalt, making his way to the place he’d grown up, the home and people he thought he’d known until they’d exiled him.
“How many folks stayed?” Sierra’s voice cut through the darker thoughts beginning to crop up.
“About a dozen,” he responded, brushing away the couple of strands of hair plastered to his forehead. “Most of the elders, the toughest, weathered members of the pack. The whole thing tore families apart, since the other half came with me. They’re waiting for me to make a move on Drew and the others, but if this is our pack’s civil war, I’d rather settle this between Drew and me than let the rest of the pack get bloody in the process. Our best chance might be making enough noise to draw the Tribe to the region.”
Sierra’s lips formed a thin line as she nodded. Any alpha knew what complications could arise by grabbing the attention of the governing group of shifters who ruled over the entire East Coast. Drag them into this dispute, and the entire Silver Springs pack was liable to be punished for their inability to self-govern. His father had left a legacy of trouble, of a disregard for the honor his people were supposed to uphold.
“Jer’s the best at what he does,” Sierra said. “If your father’s will holds any weight among the pack, he’ll be able to figure it out.”
He pressed on
the gas pedal, hurtling ahead. As prickly as she’d been on their first meeting, he warmed up to Sierra Kanoska faster than he liked. She strode into a room with command, yet had the wry humor to tease back, to indulge in the games his feline side loved, and her heart was big enough to offer reassurance at the right time. He understood at once why her wolf pack followed her with such a fierce devotion.
Shame flushed through him at his own splintered front. Sure, the cats who’d separated would back him with their last breath, but he couldn’t help but wonder if a stronger leader could’ve kept the pack together. Somehow.
Familiar highway markers flashed into view, green-and-white exit signs he’d seen a thousand and one times, yet now he entered the area as an intruder, a stranger in his own home. Even if his brother’s splitting of the pack hadn’t made the area dangerous territory, the betrayal of pack members Dax had grown up with and considered aunts and uncles sliced him too deeply to move past.
The silent brooding he’d slipped into came to a close with the way Sierra kept glancing his way. His pride wouldn’t allow her to witness him sulking around like some kid. “You seem to keep finding excuses to get me alone,” Dax purred, slipping into avoidance mode.
Sierra’s gaze hardened and her jaw jutted forward. “Anyone ever mention you’ve got a one-track mind? No wonder you need my help figuring out a solution to your problem.”
The jab sank home, piercing his tough-as-shit shell and driving straight into the meat of his current insecurities. His gaze flared, and his grip on the wheel tightened. “I’m not the one who’s buzzing with pent-up sexual frustration. What’s the matter? Scare too many men out of your bed?”
She didn’t respond, but judging by how her lips pressed tightly and the claws pricked from her nails, he’d crossed a line. He’d encountered a great many who sparked his temper before, but rarely did anyone challenge him like she did. “What’s the matter?” he added, unable to resist himself. “Cat got your tongue?”
Tribal Spirit: Forged Alliances Page 3