“Are you clothed?” he asked, trying, and probably failing, to make his voice sound cheeky.
“Come see for yourself!”
Phair trudged up the final steps, sniffing the air to brace himself for the terrifying potential of finding himself alone with a far-too-horny woman who didn’t possess a single ounce of shame.
Fortunately, his nose quickly picked up the scent of a couple of shifters: Roth, his partner Laird…and someone else.
A someone else who halted him in his tracks.
Damnation, he thought. Of all the shifters I could have to deal with today…
Immediately, Phair recognized the distinct, musky scent of the Trekilling Pack member named Cadman. Friends and foes alike called him Cad. It was a nickname that could have been custom-designed for a bloke who made an almost nightly game of hitting on women in London’s abundant pubs. Phair had heard the rumours about his lothario-like behaviour, and he’d seen Cad in action on more than one occasion.
The young man was a handsome bugger, and human women were drawn to him, as they were to most shifters.
Phair couldn’t exactly hold that against him, though. It was more the eagerness with which he encouraged them, stroked their flesh, led them on with seeming promises of relationships that never came to pass, that annoyed the living piss out of the newly-minted Béorn shifter. Cad was not a fellow who oozed respect for the opposite sex, and he’d always struck Phair as little more than an irresponsible player.
Taking in a deep breath, Phair told himself to suck it up and proceed into the meeting. Don’t worry about him, he told himself. Besides, it was probably hypocritical of him to dislike any man for being a horny bastard, given how much he’d begun to crave the company of females.
Maybe—just maybe—what bothered him about watching Cad in action was that the wanker reminded him of his own desperation.
And his own loneliness.
Chapter 2
For a second, Cad considered letting out a wolf whistle as he watched Phair stride into Bertie’s office, his broad chest leading the way. The guy really had turned into a beast, all muscle and brawn. It was no wonder he’d become the talk of the town.
Yep, he was definitely deserving of a whistle.
But the moment the Dire Wolf shifter puckered his lips, Phair levelled him with a hard stare that said, Don’t even think about it, douche-nozzle, or I’ll push your skull into your esophagus.
All righty then.
The Béorn shifter looked like he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed, taken a handful of grumpy pills, then downed a jug of crabby juice. Not exactly the blissful sort, was he?
Then again, he’d never exactly been friendly, not even before his enhancement. The guy had always seemed to have a stick up his arse the size of a smallish oak tree.
“There you are,” Roth said when he set eyes on Phair, seeming to ignore the tacitly hostile exchange between his two subordinates. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Sorry I’m late. I’d have been here sooner, but I thought I’d take the stairs to work off some energy,” said Phair. “I suppose there were a few more of them than I expected.”
“Come, come. All that matters is that you’re here now.” Bertie, rising from her seat, made her way over and threw her arms around the huge man’s waist. Cad could see that they fell quite a bit short of making it all the way around. Holy crap, the bastard really had gotten huge since the enhancement.
“I don’t care if you’re late,” Bert said, squeezing hard enough that she looked like she was trying just a little too rigorously to feel Phair’s pecs with her face, “I’m just bloody glad you’re here, you sexy giant beast of a Frankenstein’s monster.”
“Gosh, thanks, Bert,” Phair grumbled in return, which only made her squeeze him harder. Cad wanted to laugh at the Béorn’s predicament, but he wasn’t sure it would be the best idea to chuckle at a guy whose hands looked like they could crush his ribcage handily.
“You delicious piece of scrummy beef,” Bertie moaned. “Mmm, monster bear.”
“Okay, now, that’s enough of that,” Roth said, stepping forward to grab the Syndicate’s leader from behind and drag her away. “No groping the Béorn shifter just now. This is meant to be a serious meeting. We’ve got things to do.”
“But he’s so…big…” she moaned, submissively allowing herself to be led back to her chair. She plopped down in a sulk, shoving her elbows onto the desk, her chin into her hands so that she looked like a sullen, middle-aged child.
“Yes, we know,” said Laird. “He’s the biggest there is. But I’m afraid you’re just going to have to admire him from afar.”
Cad glanced over at Bert, wondering if drool might start pouring out of both sides of her mouth. She was right about Phair’s size. He was bigger than any of the Dire Wolves in their human forms—bigger, even, than most Dragon shifters. His shoulders were as large as like those of an American football player in full padding, his legs roped with thick muscle visible even through his dark jeans. Hard to imagine how such a godlike man could ever be grumpy about anything.
“Come, have a seat,” Roth said, gesturing to an empty chair by the side of Bertie’s desk. Phair obliged, perching himself carefully on the smallish piece of furniture for fear that it might break under his substantial weight.
“So, what’s this all about?” he asked, looking at the Alpha. “I was surprised to get Bert’s call, but now that I’m here, I’m even more confused.”
You and me both, thought Cad. The truth was that he wanted to be here just as little as Phair did, though he didn’t want his leader to know it. No one had explained to him what this little get-together was all about, or why his presence was necessary.
“Yes, well, to be honest, we debated having her make the call at all, but we wanted to speak to you two about a matter of some importance.” Roth turned and glanced at Cad, who tried to relax his face into complacency.
“We have an assignment for you,” said the Alpha.
“For the bear?” asked Cad. “Really?” Normally the Pack’s duties were performed exclusively by Dire Wolves, not by outsiders. At best, Phair was only a sort of informal honorary member, hardly one of the Brotherhood. Whatever they’d done to make him larger, he was no Dire Wolf shifter—even if he did have their blood in his veins.
Roth turned to Laird, who was watching the other two men silently. “Do you want to tell them about it?”
“Sure.” Laird issued both men a quick smile. “The thing is, we’ve located the bastard who was responsible for the task force that we took down a little over a month ago.”
“You mean the task force that was rounding up and imprisoning shifters?” asked Cad. “That task force?”
Laird nodded. “One and the same. Anyhow, this man, Barton, was the mastermind behind the whole sodding thing. The one who’s been sending his minions out to hunt shifters and incarcerate them without due process. We have reason to believe he’s still got men out there, combing the streets of London and other parts of the country. A former employee of the Syndicate—a hired assassin—informed Bertie that Barton’s also got bounty hunters of various sorts working for him.”
“Okay, well, that has to be illegal, doesn’t it?” asked Phair. “I thought we had law enforcement on our side now.”
Cad let out a chuckle and shot the Béorn shifter a dumbfounded glare. “Are you joking, mate? You know perfectly well that shifters have no sodding rights. There are no laws protecting us. If Barton’s people want to put us into torture chambers and have a field day, the cops are all too happy to look the other way.”
“All right, mate,” growled Phair. “What do you propose, then?”
Cad shrugged his shoulders and leaned back. “I propose that we listen to our Alpha.”
“The thing is, we need someone to investigate,” said Roth, throwing Cad a quick look of irritation. “The only way we can possibly get the authorities to help us is to provide concrete evidence of Barton’s wro
ngdoing. So the plan is to gather incriminating information and present it to the police. If we help make their jobs easier, maybe they’ll agree to work with us. Our hope is to prompt them to grant us the same rights as humans already have.”
Cad looked over at Bertie. “Bert, your Syndicate is made up of Hunters. Wouldn’t they be the right people for this job? Humans would probably do a better job of getting the police on board than shifters, given that the cops don’t respect us much.”
Bertie shook her head. “We need someone male for this particular venture, love,” she said. “Most of my Hunters are women; they wouldn’t do at all.”
“Male?” asked Phair. “That seems awfully sexist. Why the gender bias?”
“Ah, see, there’s the rub,” sighed Roth. “Barton runs a Gentlemen’s Establishment called Club Bacchus. He spends most of his time there. We have reason to suspect that he keeps his records on site. So we reckon that if we can get someone on the inside—someone who can earn his trust a little—perhaps they can find out where he keeps his files and his data. It’s a long shot, but it’s really our only hope.”
“My interest is piqued, I’ll admit,” Phair said. “But this whole thing sounds a little like a suicide mission. It’s pretty obvious that Barton wants shifters wiped off the face of the earth. What makes you think he wouldn’t shoot me the moment I walked into the club?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Roth replied, smiling. “Let’s just say I’ve made him an offer he can’t refuse. The one thing Barton loves more than he hates shifters is money, and we have lots of it.”
“You’re saying you bribed our enemy,” said Cad.
“I prefer to think of it as purchasing his hospitality. Now we just need for someone to walk into his club and charm him into thinking they’re friend rather than foe.”
“Right,” replied Cad, who was finally beginning to understand why he’d been summoned to this meeting. “So I suppose you’re going to tell us which one of us you’re sending in. I assume that’s why you asked us both here—to choose between Phair and me.”
“Choose?” said Roth, letting out a laugh as he turned to Laird, who was sporting an equally amused grin. “There’s no choosing. You’re both going to the club tonight.”
“Wait—excuse me?” shot Phair, spitting the words out as though they tasted absolutely foul on his tongue. “Did you just say us…two? I thought you wanted one of us on this job. You want us to work together? Really?”
“Is that a problem?” asked Roth in a tone that said Your answer had better be no, you insubordinate wanker.
“Not if you want us to tear each other limb from limb,” Cad replied. He leaned forward and whisper-yelled, “See, I don’t think Phair likes me very much. And I don’t particularly like him, either. We’re not exactly cut from the same cloth.”
“No, we’re not,” Phair replied. “For one thing, Cad doesn’t seem to respect me much.”
“That shouldn’t come as a surprise,” Roth replied. “Quite a few of our men are less than fond of bears in general. There’s still a fair bit of rage out there for what your kind did.”
“My kind?” asked Phair.
“Need I remind you,” began Roth, turning his way, “that it was Grizzlies killing off humans that set off the entire anti-shifter sentiment in this country?”
“I was never involved in any of that, Alpha. I’ve only ever defended humans and shifters alike—at least the good ones. Besides, I’m not a fucking Grizzly shifter, not anymore.”
“Which brings us back to the reason I asked you here. I know you’ll do the right thing.” Roth turned around to face Cad. “And you understand your duty to the Pack, and that I don’t give a toss if you have a problem with Phair. Don’t you, Cadman?”
Cad nodded sullenly. Hearing his full name always told him that he’d do well to shut up and submit, because Roth meant business. “Yes,” he said. “Of course I will. I always do.”
“Yeah, you always do, don’t you?” snarled Phair. “Unless following through involves difficult tasks like, say, treating women properly.”
Ah, so that’s his problem, thought Cad. He doesn’t like that I enjoy my quality time with the ladies.
“Rich words, coming from Sir Shags-a-Lot,” Cad hissed back. “As if you’re any sort of noble gentleman. Deny it if you’d like, but I’ve seen you heading home from the pub with more than one drunken lass hanging off your arm. Are you trying to tell me you were simply accompanying them so that you could tuck them into bed and read them a story before you gallantly made your way home?”
“I don’t take advantage of women,” Phair snarled. “I don’t lead them on like you do. Besides…” He paused for a moment and cleared his throat before proceeding. “I’ve avoided women lately, for their good as well as for mine. Maybe you should consider doing the same. You could act like a responsible adult instead of a horny fucking teenager, for once.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, give it a rest, you two,” Roth growled. “I don’t want to hear about which one of you is worse at keeping his dick in his sodding pants. I’ve given you a task; I expect you both to do as you’re bloody told.”
“Fine. I accept,” growled Phair. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’d prefer another partner.”
“Duly noted,” Roth said in a voice that told reiterated that the decision was final. “But irrelevant. Cad is your partner. The end.”
“Fine,” the Béorn shifter huffed.
“Fine,” echoed Cad.
“Good. That’s settled. Here’s Barton’s club’s location.” Roth pulled two pieces of paper out of his back pocket and handed one to each man. “Be there at seven.”
Cad unfolded his and read it. 79 Firth Street.
“The club is rather high-end,” Laird interjected. “Wealthy clientele, a snooty bunch. You’ll need some appropriate clothing. The place is old school. Black tie, the whole works.”
“Oh, for shite’s sake,” huffed Phair.
“You do have a dark suit that fits that ridiculous frame of yours, I hope?” said Cad, looking the Béorn shifter up and down. Whoever his tailor was, he must have had a hell of a time fitting the bloke.
“I have exactly one,” Phair said, before mumbling, “but…I’ll need to get a bow tie.”
“Well, you have about six hours to pick out the perfect one.” Cad said, issuing Phair an amused smile as he made his way towards the stairwell. “I’ll see you at seven.”
Phair rose to his feet. “Fine, you bastard.”
“Oh, and there’s one last thing,” Roth said, stopping both men before either of them could actually find his way to the top of the stairs.
“What is it?” asked Cad. “Are you going to ask me to have my hair and makeup professionally styled before our big night out? Because I’m thinking about a nice sort of pompadour…”
“Hardly.” Roth’s stern face told him he’d do well to stop joking about. “I am, however, going to warn you not to get close to any humans while you’re in the club. I’ve heard that Barton has some very beautiful women on his staff, but the last thing we want is for either of you to find yourselves emotionally involved with one of them. You don’t know who you can trust. By all means, speak to them. Gather intelligence. See if you can find a way to access the club’s computers. But don’t let yourself get attached.”
“Attached?” chuckled Cad. “I never get attached to anyone. Just ask our friend here.” With that, he gestured towards Phair. “Apparently my heart is ice and I treat women like rubbish.”
“I’m serious,” Roth replied. “Don’t forget that humans are our number one enemy these days.”
“Enemy? Doesn’t that seem a little extreme?”
“At this point, after everything that’s happened, I wouldn’t say so,” Roth said with finality.
Cad sealed his mouth, resisting the desire to push back. But this was strange talk, coming from the Alpha. Roth and Laird had a human mate, after all. It seemed unreasonable to think that h
e now considered her a part of a hostile species.
However, on one front he did have a point: humans had become the scourge of London, a royal pain in the arse in every way imaginable. Much as he enjoyed the pleasure of their company in bed, it would probably serve him well to avoid getting intimate with any of their kind.
“I’m not a huge fan of people these days,” Phair grunted. “So you don’t need to worry about me.”
“I’d like to believe that,” said Roth. “But I know what an attractive woman can do to a man. She can be a distraction. A weapon, even, used against him. Be careful.”
Cad stared at his Alpha for a moment. He’d seen this strange glint in Roth’s eye before. The man had an uncanny ability to feel trouble before it came to pass.
If he was warning the men off women, there had to be a reason for it.
And that reason was probably very beautiful.
Chapter 3
Club Bacchus
Thursday, 6:55 p.m.
“Mir.”
Knock.
“Mir.”
Knock, knock, knock.
“Miranda! Open up, would you?”
When the full brunt of her name hit her ears, Mir snapped out of the fog she’d been in and pulled herself up to a sitting position on her bed.
“Come in,” she said.
The door creaked open and a moment later her sister, Bry, stood staring at her, framed in the doorway of the small bedroom on the second floor of Club Bacchus. She was dressed in an old flannel shirt and a pair of jeans, waves of long, light hair hanging over the left side of her face as usual.
“What’s going on with you?” Bry asked. “You look a thousand miles away, and apparently you can no longer hear a fist hitting wood.”
“Right about now, I wish I were a thousand miles from here,” Mir replied, her tone expressionless. “And you with me. I wish we could find a way…”
“Are you all right?” Bry asked, stepping into the room. She strode over to crouch in front of her older sibling, who pulled her gaze away to avoid eye contact. “What’s going on?”
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