McQuade: The Lone Wolf Takes a Mate

by Lynn Richards

  Rose ventured another look at the man as he grabbed his leather jacket from his abandoned chair. McQuade. It was a sexy sounding name, but a lonely sounding one as well. Unbidden, a rush of arousal hardened her nipples until they poked painfully against the still damp fabric of her shirt and bra. Heck, she’d been turned on since the first time she’d seen him. The wetness between her thighs was not a result of the rain.

  The stools around the bar were full; however, as they approached, two men got up to leave. McQuade made a quick grab for the stools but somehow she didn’t think anybody was going to fight him over them.

  Fight? Dear Lord, was she putting this man’s life in danger? She wasn’t brave enough to tell him she didn’t need his help. Well, she wasn’t stupid enough either. Putting one hand on the bar, she attempted to gain enough leverage to seat herself. The stool was tall and Rose was short. A regular occurrence she faced every day in a world that catered to tall, skinny people. There was no way to gracefully take a seat. She’d once ridden in a friend’s pickup truck and had to climb into the seat like a monkey. At least then she’d had hand holds to help. Before she could put a foot on the rail beneath the stool to haul her fat ass up, McQuade lifted her onto the seat.

  “How’d you–”

  “How’d I what?” His eyes were quizzical as he took the stool beside her. Again she caught his unique scent. Hell, had he turned her into a wolf? Her hand went to her neck again.

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. Of course a shifter could lift her. They were stronger than humans. Maybe having a shifter for a boyfriend wouldn’t be a bad idea. At least he could sweep her off her feet and carry her to the bedroom and then rip the clothes–

  “Rose.” The sharp sound of his voice brought her out of her fantasy.

  “Mmm.” She was having trouble stringing two words together and for a moment she was afraid again. Did his bite contain some kind of drug? Wouldn’t that make more sense if he’d been a vamp? She put a hand to her head, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. She was hungry and cold. That was all that was wrong with her.

  “Drink. What do you want to drink?” She realized the bartender was waiting for their order.

  “I tried to tell you in the hallway, I don’t have any money.”

  McQuade’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you came out all alone on a rainy, God-awful night with no money?”

  She bowed her head. “I get paid tomorrow.”

  Meaning she had no money tonight.

  McQuade felt like a fool. His life was a simple one, but he never had to worry about money. He earned a decent salary and he’d made some good investments early in life when the stock market was a reliable money maker. He wasn’t frugal, but he wasn’t wasteful either. He remembered a time or two when his parents had scrambled to pay the bills. When the world hadn’t been quite so accepting of shifters and making a decent living had been difficult, if not impossible.

  Shit. “Bring her a coffee,” he ordered the bartender.

  “This ain’t Starbucks, dude. And there’s a two drink minimum.”

  McQuade growled. “Then make it an Irish coffee.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Now tell me why you’re here, Rose.” Was she meeting a human? A shifter? His body tightened at the thought. If so, where the hell was he? She’d been within minutes of being taken and ravaged by a pack of lions and hyenas.

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. As her hair dried, small tendrils were escaping from her ponytail and falling around her face. “My sister said she needed a ride.”

  “So you just got in your car and drove over a lonely stretch of road to a place you’ve never been before to collect your sister?”

  “Yes.”

  It sounded awful when he said it that way. But he didn’t know…

  “She should never have asked you to come out on a night like this. She should have called a cab.”

  “It would have been fine if I hadn’t had a flat.” Rose reached for the cup of hot coffee the bartender placed in front of her and frowned. She’d always thought Irish coffee was a poor man’s latte served with whipped cream right out of a can. This didn’t even look like the bartender had added any cream.

  She reached for the sugar. She excused her desire for excess sugar as medicinal. She could be going into shock. First a flat, then an averted attack, and finally the most sexually intense experience of her life. And it hadn’t even involved mouths or tongues or… Her hands shook a little as she tore open the four white packets.

  After stirring in the sugar, she blew on the surface of her drink before taking a tentative sip. Her face screwed into a scowl. “Is it supposed to taste like that?”

  “Have you ever had Irish coffee?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s supposed to taste that way.”

  Rose arched her eyebrow. She was pretty sure the coffee had liquor in it. She blew on it again. She knew what his next question was going to be and she didn’t think he would react very well to the answer.

  “Have you called your sister?”

  “No.” No use trying to lie.

  “Give me your phone, Rose.”

  With great reluctance, she retrieved it from the pocket of her sweater and slid it across the bar. His eyebrows rose when he picked it up and discovered it was turned off. He flipped it open, turning it back on. Right away the low battery warning sounded.

  “No money, no damn phone. Do you have any sense, woman?”

  She took another fortifying sip of the liquored coffee. The taste was definitely growing on her. “Obviously not since I’m still sitting here surrounded by shifters.”

  “I’m the only shifter you need to focus on, baby.” He fished in his pocket. “Use my phone to text your sister. The faster you get out of here, the better.”

  Of course. He couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Rose took the cell he handed her. His phone was the latest and fastest, which made telling him she didn’t know how to text even more embarrassing. “I’ll just call her, if you don’t mind.”

  He looked at her with those dark eyes and heat swelled inside her. The man was way, way out of her league and she didn’t know what kind of game he was playing. He’d rescued her from the other men, but she didn’t know why. He certainly didn’t look like any white knight she’d ever imagined.

  He was the bad boy who banged you so good you begged him not to leave.

  Rose squeezed her thighs together.

  “It would be better to text. If she’s at a party, she’s not going to answer her phone, but she might look at a text and realize what time it is. Tell her if she wants a ride home, she needs to answer you pronto.”

  “How do you know she’s at a party?” Rose certainly didn’t know where her sister was, but a party would have been her first guess.

  “Any woman who asked you to meet her in a shifter bar is bound to be partying. Pretty heavily.” He pointed at the phone in her hand. “Do it.”

  Rose fingered the black rubber cover protecting the back and edges of the phone and kept her head lowered. “I…don’t know how.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know how to text.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud.” He jerked the phone from her hands. “Can your sister even get a text?” At her short nod, he demanded her sister’s phone number and with a few quick movements of his fingers, the message was sent.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “No, not really.” She knew she was trying his patience, but she prayed it would last long enough for him to get her home.

  “Rose.” He said her name with the same exasperation her father had used when she’d avoided the truth. Her falsehoods had usually been in defense of her sister when they were in their teens. Oh, how she missed her parents.

  “I can’t afford a data plan on my phone and my sister’s.” It didn’t matter that of the two, Rose really could use it for her work. More than once her supervisor had been angry she had to cal
l Rose about a change in schedule or an unexpected meeting instead of texting her along with all the other nurses.

  “How old is your sister?”

  The deep timbre of his voice made her insides clench. She put her cup down with a thump. Alice was two years older than Rose. Somehow she didn’t think that would sit well with this man, so she kept her mouth shut.

  He pulled her ponytail, forcing her head back. Someone moved behind him. The lions were either getting ready to leave or they were getting ready to attack. What if they didn’t care that she wore McQuade’s scent? What if they still thought she was up for grabs? “I think you should kiss me now.”

  Her soft eyes pleaded with him. She didn’t want to get hurt and she didn’t want him to get hurt either. She had a feeling he would protect her from anything, even at his own peril.

  His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue dipping inside. His touch was firm and forceful but not rough or hurting. Their tastes mingled together, coffee, liquor, and the faintest hint of beer. He was so dominating, so male, it made her dizzy. Rose’s limited experience had not prepared her for the electrifying touch of this man’s lips. The stimulating feeling spread from her lips to her breasts to her pussy. She pressed her legs together again and moaned into his mouth.

  It had been a thigh-clenching kind of night.

  *****

  McQuade ended the kiss before he gave into his baser instincts and lifted Rose to the counter and licked the cream he could smell weeping from her pussy. The scent of her arousal filled the air and he knew every shifter in the bar smelled it. There was no doubt about his claim now and some of the shifters immediately backed off. Others, like the jerk-wad lion, continued to try and intimidate him by posturing and grumbling behind him. His shifter ears heard the muttered threats, thankful that the woman sitting next to him could not.

  He basically had two choices. He could call her a cab and stay here at least thirty more minutes while they waited for it to arrive, surrounded by shifters who’d like nothing more than to rip his throat out, or he could take her home on the back of his bike. His wolf paced inside him, anxious to get the woman away from the potential threat. The man was inclined to agree with the animal this time even though it was still raining and the roads would be wet. The backsplash would only add to the discomfort she’d experience. She’d be miserable.

  At least she’d be alive. While he had no doubt he could take out each and every lion shifter present, his odds diminished greatly if they came at him as a unified pack. Which was very likely. Some of the other shifters and even a few humans might step in to help him, but he couldn’t depend on it. Rose’s safety was too important. His wolf wholeheartedly agreed even though the man wanted nothing more than a good fight to relieve whatever it was that had been eating away at him since he’d bitten her in the hallway.

  He’d intended to take nothing more than a brief taste, only enough to warn the other shifters away. Then she’d sighed and melted into him and he hadn’t been able to resist a deeper, longer drink.

  What disconcerted him most was the way his body had reacted when he’d held her close. Not the flaming arousal that had his cock rock hard, not even the overwhelming drive to come as he tasted her creamy shoulder. No, what had his wolf tugging at its restraints was the urge–no, the overwhelming need–that had welled up inside him to protect this woman. Suddenly he was aware of his fucking wolf as he’d never been before. Sure, it was a part of him. But that was just it, now it felt distinctly separate—and incredibly defensive where this woman’s safety was concerned.

  He threw some bills on the counter, frowning when he realized the bartender had given Rose another coffee. The first cup was empty and the second had only a small amount of liquid remaining in the bottom. When the hell had that happened? Damn it, he needed to get control of himself and fast.

  “Come on, it’s time to leave.”

  “But I need to wait for Alice.”

  “No, you need to stand up, and walk out of this bar while you still can.” The threat was now coming from him, but he didn’t know if the woman recognized the shift. He cursed his wolf’s reaction, her shyness, and the whole situation. As soon as she’d stepped through the bar’s door, she’d known she was in over her head. But had she left? No, she’d barreled right in determined to find her wayward sister.

  When she slid from the barstool, her skirt hiked up as she moved. The top of her thigh was bare. Sweet heaven, did she have on stockings? He jerked her down, taking her elbow and pulling her from the bar.

  Outside, the rain had stopped and the night had cooled even more. The chill managed to center him, taking his focus off his rock hard cock. His bike was parked at the edge of the lot, a black and chrome machine that carried him almost as swiftly as his wolf. The two lone wolves followed him out. He didn’t know if they were there to support him if the lions decided to attack or try and take Rose for themselves.

  Mine. His wolf growled, a low warning sound in the back of McQuade’s throat. “Where do you live?”

  “On Willow Street. By the all night diner.” Oh great, Rose thought, he’d probably think she was trying to weasel a meal out of him.

  “I know where it is.” He zipped up his jacket and looked at her as if he was attempting to solve a particularly difficult puzzle.

  “What?”

  “You’re going to get wet.”

  “Like I’m not already.” She didn’t know what was causing it, but she suddenly felt a little saucy. Maybe she shouldn’t have indulged in that second cup of coffee while McQuade had been texting her sister. The first one had tasted so good she hadn’t been able to resist. Besides, she’d been cold and the drink had warmed her up nicely.

  “Yeah, but you’ll be traveling at seventy miles an hour.” McQuade shook his head. “Shit, you’re going to freeze to death.”

  She stepped closer. How could she possible be cold if she got to press her front against his back? All that yummy, warm muscle to snuggle against.

  She was so busy imagining the possibilities of having her arms around him she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.

  “Here, friend, use this. It might help a little.”

  From the corner of her eye she saw a blur as one of the men from the bar threw a large black package at McQuade.

  “Thanks. I appreciate the help.”

  The man chuckled. “I think you’re going to need all the help you can get with this one.”

  Rose was vaguely aware of the other men standing back even though her thought process was screwed up by the Irish coffees she’d consumed and the magnetism of the man beside her. “Do you think we’re okay now?”

  McQuade didn’t answer. He snapped the string around the bundle the man had tossed him. A piece of plastic unfolded.

  “Here. This might manage to keep you fairly dry.” His tone more than suggested he was tired of taking care of her. It was almost angry. She knew she’d screwed up walking into the bar. As soon as she’d determined Alice was nowhere to be seen, the smart thing would have been to turn around and run as fast as she could back to her car.

  Even though both humans and shifters had been inside, Rose knew she could never have counted on any help from the human males. It had been her experience that males, whether shifter or human, had all been cut from the same cloth–self-centered and unwilling to step out of their comfort zone unless it benefited them.

  Barely managing to catch the large square of plastic, she shook it out and slipped it over her head. Somehow she didn’t think this was exactly what Dr. Brothers had in mind when she’d encouraged women to wrap themselves in Saran Wrap and greet their husbands after a long, hard day.

  “I look like a—well, I don’t really know what I look like.” She held her arms up, the long sleeves hanging off the ends of her hands. The hemline was no better. What would have been a short rain cover-up for a man, brushed the asphalt on her.

  McQuade smiled at the picture she made. The first true smile she’d seen from him tonigh
t. He pulled the plastic hood over her head and wedged the helmet over it. “There, all set.”

  He swung his leg over the seat of the bike and ordered her on behind him. “Come on Rose, let’s go.”

  “And how exactly do you propose I get on that thing?”

  His lips curved up. “Haven’t you ever straddled anything, darling?”

  “Um, no.”

  Do not think about straddling him. Do not think about it.

  But his tone was so…suggestive.

  Okay, it was dark and he couldn’t see her blush. Could he?

  Her rescuer sighed.

  Rose knew that male sound so well–exasperation at what they considered the weaker sex.

  “Put your hand on my shoulder, then swing your right leg over the seat.”

  “Right, I’ll just swing my short, chubby leg higher than my waist while I’m wearing a skirt and enough plastic to cover a swimming pool.” She gritted her teeth and prayed her knees would stop knocking together as she contemplated her predicament. This was so embarrassing. She opened her mouth, ready to tell him just to forget about taking her home, when the man who had provided the plastic poncho walked over, lifted her as though she weighed next to nothing, and plopped her behind McQuade.

  “All set, sweetheart.”

  The deep voice rumbled in Rose’s ear. If she wasn’t already so taken with McQuade’s extremely handsome, though rough-around-the-edges, appearance, this man could have made her pant. Blonde and blue-eyed, with just enough mischievousness in his smile to make a woman forget her first name. And her last.

  “Hang on, babe,” McQuade shouted over his shoulder as he saluted the other man and started the bike.

  “As if I have a choice,” she yelled, grabbing him around the waist and holding on for all she was worth.

  Rose’s fingers and toes were numb by the time they pulled onto her street. She thought she’d been cold when she’d walked to the bar, but now she was just a shivering ball of misery. Her small apartment had never looked so good. When their parents died, Alice had already been living away from home, supporting herself with a string of temporary jobs. Rose had just started college. There’d been no savings or life insurance and the sale of the family home had barely covered the mortgage and funeral expenses. Rose had been left homeless with little more than the clothes on her back.