Ready to Run: Werewolves in Love, Book 3

by Kinsey W. Holley

  Sara blinked in surprise. Then she gasped.

  TJ grinned. “This is Nick Wargman’s black Amex. Ever heard of a place called the Galleria?”

  She nodded, dumbstruck.

  “Good. Saleswomen will treat you like dirt because you’re in jeans and tennis shoes and a scratchy T-shirt and pretty as a fairy princess. I’ll wave this card like a magic wand and watch them start kissing your ass. This is gonna be fun. I’m warning you, though, some of them will assume you’re fucking Nick. Get your purse. Oh, do you drink?”

  “Um, yes.”

  “Thank God. I need a margarita.”

  Chapter Six

  The Pack had several acres on the other side of Katy, about an hour and a half from Houston. Nick Wargman’s late and unlamented father, the previous Alpha, had purchased it back in the sixties. It had a big house where the Pack held formal meetings and family gatherings throughout the year, and several smaller bunkhouses with beds and bathrooms.

  After an exhausting, exhilarating four-hour run, Bryan felt better than he had in two months. He even felt a little less stressed about Sara. She wasn’t the clingy type—she didn’t seem to be measuring for drapes or anything. He still wanted to see her—and touch her, and taste her—and after the kiss this morning, he thought she felt the same way. Maybe they could reset the relationship to something more than casual but less than committed and see what happened from there.

  Once he’d showered and changed, he called her. Her phone went straight to voicemail. He left a message, feeling slightly silly—there was no reason for him to keep tabs on her.

  He called her again when he hit Houston, and then a third time as he was running around town. The fourth time he failed to reach her, he hit end before voicemail kicked in.

  Where the hell was she? TJ Turner could easily shop for six hours, but Sara didn’t seem the type.

  He got home to find that a shopping mall had thrown up in his living room. Judging by the names on the bags and boxes spilling off the sofa, he guessed it was the Galleria. Still no sign of Sara, though.

  “Holy shit, angel,” he muttered. “Did you leave anything in the Tupperware?”

  On cue, his cell rang.

  “TJ?”

  “No, it’s me!” Sara sounded very happy. So did a lot of people in the background.

  “Are you at Cowgirls?”

  “Yes! How’d you know?”

  “Because I hang out there a lot. I guess TJ’s with you?”

  “Yeah! We dropped off the loot at your place and then came here. This place is unbelievable! One of the managers said they’re hiring, and he thinks I’d fit in great!”

  All the bartenders at Cowgirls and Werewolves were hot young werewolves, and all the waitresses were hot young females. They brought in the guys, both wolves and men, while the werewolves brought in the females. Bryan was oddly unenthusiastic about the idea of Sara getting hit on all the time.

  “I’ve been trying to call you all day. Don’t you have your phone with you?”

  “Yeah, but it’s out of juice. Piece of crap can’t hold a charge.” She was quiet for a minute. “So…you wanna join us?”

  “Sure. I have to stop somewhere first. See you in a few.”

  “He says he has to make one stop and then he’ll be up here.”

  “Of course he will,” said TJ. “He’s not gonna leave you alone in a bar crawling with men and werewolves. What? What’s the matter?”

  Sara shrugged, embarrassed to be so transparent. “I don’t think Bryan’s gonna be jealous of guys hanging around me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, it’s not like we’re really dating.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. I mean—you know why he asked me out in the first place, don’t you?”

  TJ nodded, completely serious now. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have real feelings for you. He brought you back here and you’re staying at his house.”

  Sara waved a hand. “Yeah, but—that’s because he’s a good guy.”

  TJ nodded. “Yeah, he is. He’s a very good guy.” She leaned forward to stare intently at Sara. “You know, those assholes almost got my best friend. They did get a friend of hers. What B did was important. I know it shocked you to find out who he really is, but if they end up busting this gang, he’ll deserve a lot of the credit. And he didn’t have to bring you home with him. He could’ve just turned you over to the cops up in Dallas.”

  She had no answer for that. Feeling vaguely ashamed, but not sure why, she covered her discomfort by taking a big slurp of margarita and looking around Cowgirls.

  It looked like a honky-tonk on steroids, with a huge wooden porch on the first floor and a covered wrap-around wooden deck on the second. She and TJ were on the second floor deck. Two sides of the first floor had rolling metal doors instead of walls. There were two bars downstairs, one up. A staircase in the middle of the first floor ran up to the middle of the second floor. Overhead TVs blared from every corner, and on the second floor were pool tables, pinball machines and a tiny dance floor. Sparkling Christmas lights were strung throughout the place, twinkling in the dusky glow of the early October sun.

  “So how’d you like your first time at church?” TJ asked.

  “Church?” Sara responded, startled.

  “Yeah. Nordstrom’s my spiritual home. See, Burberry and Juicy Couture and Betsey Johnson—those are like the Vatican, or Westminster Abbey. Overwhelming, and way too expensive to visit very often. But Nordstrom is like regular church. You can attend weekly if you want.”

  “Seriously? You think those prices are normal?”

  TJ cocked her head. “Yeah.”

  “I paid a hundred and fifty-eight dollars for a dress! I’ve never paid anywhere near that for clothes in my life!”

  “This is Houston, girlfriend. You’ve got opportunities you didn’t have in Luxor. And besides, Nick paid for it all. And I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed shoving that Amex in those peoples’ faces after they got a look at you. God, that was fun.” She stretched and yawned. “I’ll take you back there soon and we can hit Ann Taylor and the Gap. They’re not expensive. We just didn’t spend enough time there today.”

  “We shopped for four solid hours! My feet feel like I pulled a double!”

  TJ waved a hand. “You’re an amateur. I’m a pro—four hours in that place is nothing. Trust me. We’ll turn you into a real Houstonian, and real Houstonians like to shop.” She paused. “And drive. And drink margaritas and eat Mexican food and bitch about the weather. I love this city.”

  “So you’re a native?”

  TJ grinned and rolled her eyes. “Hell no. Didn’t come here ’til college—I went to the U of H. I’m from Silsbee. Ever heard of it?”

  Sara nodded. “It’s a lot bigger than Luxor.”

  “You could still fit the population inside Reliant Stadium eight or nine times.” She looked up from slurping her margarita, a question on her face. “You been out of Luxor before?”

  Sara shrugged, feeling very country mouse. “Well, yeah, but only to other small towns. I never even got to Dallas. I mean, I wanted to, but it wasn’t something people did.”

  TJ chewed on her straw thoughtfully. “Huh. Weird. See, I grew up Silsbee, and when I was a teenager, all any of us ever wanted was out. First thing you did, soon as you had your license, was drive to Houston.”

  “Yeah, but is Silsbee full of Apocalyptics?”

  “Ah. No, thank God. That’s the difference. I guess it’s like living in a bubble, isn’t it?”

  “I always thought of it as a snowglobe. When we ran into the glass wall we had to turn around and go back.”

  TJ cocked her head with a little smile. “I like that. Very poetic.” She broke into a smile at something over Sara’s shoulders. “Hey, guys!” she called. “What’s up? Y’all play a game today?”

  A big knot of big guys had emerged from the staircase. They headed for the table as soon as they saw TJ. One hulking g
uy carrying three pitchers of beer in each hand banged them down on the table while the other guys grabbed chairs. Within seconds they were surrounded by more men her age than lived within a hundred miles of Luxor.

  Cowgirls was hopping, which was normal for a pretty Sunday afternoon. The bar attracted werewolves, of course, and human males as well. Not many cowgirls, since it was in the middle of a huge city, but women of every other description. The vehicles in the parking lot ranged from custom motorcycles to pickup trucks to luxury sports cars and everything in between. Bryan’s only complaint about the place was the way it plugged up his nose—between the scents of Memorial Park, two blocks to the west, and the exhaust fumes wafting from I-10, to the north, and the alcohol and cigarettes and sweat, he couldn’t smell a damned thing. It didn’t do much for his hearing, either.

  When he got to the downstairs bar, he saw Taran Lloyd, a detective with HPD’s Shifter Investigations Unit.

  “Hey, good to see you, wolf,” Taran said with a slap on Bryan’s back. “And great job in Luxor. What are you drinking?”

  “Shiner would be nice. Thanks a lot.”

  Taran placed the order and propped an elbow on the bar. “So you caught two bad guys and rescued the maiden.”

  “Yep.”

  “Congratulations on bringing them down alive.” Taran had killed two of Kuba’s assholes last winter when they tried to attack his mate. He was also on an interagency task force investigating the gang.

  “Thanks. Listen. Have the Feds said anything about Sara? Is she even on their radar?” He assumed Nick had filled Taran in on everything.

  Taran shrugged. “Of course she is. They want to talk to you, and they wonder why you left before they showed up.”

  “Shit.”

  “It would’ve been better if you’d ditched her car before y’all left, but I guess there wasn’t time.”

  “No, there wasn’t.”

  The bartender slid their beers over.

  “You know,” Taran said after he took a swig, “they’d be real interested in her memory. I’m sure they’d be willing to ignore any involvement she had in the family business if she had information to offer.”

  “I don’t know if she does, but I’ll ask her. I’m meeting her here.”

  Taran nodded. “I know. TJ called Lark to come up.” He took another swig of beer and gave Bryan a long, shrewd look. “I hear she’s hot.”

  “Who’s hot?” said a female voice. Bryan turned to see Taran’s mate—and fiancée—Lark Manning.

  “Bryan’s new girlfriend. Hi, sweetheart.” As Lark hugged him, Taran gave her a smile the likes of which Bryan had never seen, or imagined he’d ever see, on the normally dour wolf’s face.

  “Sara’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled into his beer.

  Lark quirked her mouth and said, “Well, let’s go meet her. TJ said they’re upstairs.”

  When they emerged into the middle of the second floor, Bryan scanned the crowd, looking for Sara. Lark elbowed him in the ribs and pointed at a table on the outside deck.

  “Good thing she’s not your girlfriend. ’Cause that’s a lot of guys over there.”

  A guy with shaggy black hair and a knowing grin dragged his chair up next to TJ’s.

  “Hi, James.” The redhead sounded both bored and amused.

  “TJ, have you thought any more about what I said?”

  “No, James.”

  With a heavy sigh, he picked up his chair and walked around to Sara’s side of the table, wedging it in between her and the hulk who’d carried the pitchers.

  “Hi. I’m James. You’re pretty. What’s your name?”

  She couldn’t help returning his grin. “Sara.”

  “Sara, you’re fae, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, partly.” It felt so weird to say it out loud like that. “Why?” She gave TJ a what’s with this guy look, but her new friend just rolled her eyes and kept talking to a big guy with a shaved head.

  “You know, Sara, I’m more open-minded than a lot of wolves.”

  She started in surprise. “You’re a werewolf?”

  His goofy leer made her laugh. “I am. Are you afraid of werewolves, little girl?”

  “No, but I’ve only met one so far.”

  “Well, you need to meet more.”

  “Back off,” TJ said. “She’s new in town.”

  James leaned on the table, blocking her view of TJ. “Anyway,” he said loudly, “as I was saying, I’m more open-minded than a lot of wolves. Lots of wolves are afraid to date fae women.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “’Cause y’all are crazy.” He leered at her again. “But, see, I like crazy. I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. If there’s a hundred females in a bar, and only one of ’em’s ever keyed her boyfriend’s car and held his dog hostage because she thought he was cheating on her, that’s the one I’ll end up with.”

  “But I’m not crazy.”

  He raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Huh?”

  “No, really. I’m part fae, but I’m not crazy.”

  “Damn. I might love you. You got a talent?”

  She caught her breath and blinked. This was even weirder than having someone ask if she was fae. After a lifetime spent hiding her talent, now she was talking about it like it was normal.

  “Well, do you?”

  “Um, yeah. It’s—it’s my memory.”

  “Your memory.”

  “Yes. I have eidetic memory—total recall.”

  He winced. “Ooh. Sara, that’s not a great feature in a girlfriend.”

  “She’s not a car, jackass,” TJ interjected.

  James ignored her. “How come fae chicks never have the ability to bend like Gumby, or suck a tennis ball through a straw? Something useful, you know?”

  She nearly sucked a margarita up her nose when she started laughing.

  “No, really,” he went on, all wide-eyed sincerity. “I mean, if evolution had been more on the ball, it would’ve been—”

  “All right, you’re done here.” A big hand grabbed James by the back of his T-shirt and hauled him to his feet.

  She looked up—the hand belonged to Bryan, and he wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked a little scary. James apparently thought so too, because he put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Oh—hey, Bryan. Didn’t see you there, bro.”

  “Move along, bro. The rest of you too.” All the other guys stood and started collecting their pitchers and glasses.

  “He wasn’t bothering me,” Sara protested. “They were just talking to us!”

  “Well, they’re done now. Buh-bye.” He backhanded a couple of guys on their heads as they shuffled off.

  TJ was laughing. James was too. He bowed and blew her a kiss. “It’s okay, Sara. The big jarhead can’t help it.” He danced out of Bryan’s reach and joined his buddies on the other side of the room.

  “Why’d you do that?”

  He set a small bag on the table, pulled the chair up close to her, and flopped down. “Because they’re lunatics.”

  A guy and a girl had shown up with him. It had to be TJ’s best friend, Lark, and her fiancé, Taran. He was tall and beautiful, with golden hair and a scar on his face. She had chestnut hair and legs Sara would’ve killed for. Lark smiled at Sara while the guy said, “They’re not lunatics. They’re rugby players.”

  “Same thing,” Bryan groused. “Too many headbutts. And James is a smart-assed beta. Smart-assed betas bug the shit out of me.”

  “So all those guys are werewolves?”

  “Not all of them,” Lark said. “The big guy with the shaved head is human. So’s another one.”

  “And they play rugby with werewolves?”

  “Yes,” said Bryan, “because they’re lunatics.”

  “I like rugby players,” TJ said with a sigh. “They have great bodies and they love to get naked.”

  “They do? Like, in the game?” Sara asked.

  “Oh yeah. In the game, in t
he huddle—”

  “The scrum,” Lark corrected. “In rugby, the huddle is called the scrum.”

  “What do you know about rugby?” Taran asked, but Lark only smiled and took a ladylike sip of beer.

  “We’re over the rugby players now, people.” Bryan smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hi, angel. How are you?”

  “I’m good. All the shopping wore me out.”

  “I’m not surprised. You got any money left?”

  “It wasn’t my money!” He loved how her eyes got so big and round when something surprised or impressed her. “Nick Wargman paid for everything!”

  “What?”

  “I told TJ I didn’t feel right letting him do it, but she said—”

  “I said shut up and shop.”

  “That’s what she always says,” said Lark.

  “Excuse me.” The new guy had a lovely, deep voice. “Sara, I don’t think they’re going to introduce us, so hi. I’m Taran, and this is Lark.”

  “Hi. TJ was telling me all about y’all.” She looked at Lark. “And she told me about your run-in with those wolves.”

  Lark nodded. “You and I are real lucky.”

  The three of them shook hands.

  “Nick financed a shopping trip for you and TJ?” Taran asked.

  TJ made a phfft sound. “For me? No. For her, yes. A welcome to Houston, sorry you got attacked by evil werewolves, maybe you can help the FBI with this whole thing gift. It’s not like he can’t afford it, and besides—she didn’t spend much.”

  “There’s dozens of bags at my place!”

  “Well, yeah, she got a lot of clothes, but she didn’t buy the really good stuff.”

  Sara made a face. “I can’t pay three hundred dollars for a cardigan. Just can’t do it.”

  “She looks great in Burberry,” TJ said sadly to Lark.

  “Ooh,” Lark murmured.

  Bryan rolled his eyes. “Enough with the chick stuff. Here, I got you something you actually need.”

  “What is it?”

  “Open it and find out.”

  So she did. “Oh my God! This is awesome!”

  “It’s a smartphone.”