Quinn Security

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Inside the Mercedes and leaning across the console to better meet Dean’s gaze was a doll-faced blonde.

  The second he caught sight of the woman, one word sprang instantly to mind—princess.

  “How do I get to West Evergreen Street?” she demanded with a remarkably entitled tone.

  Dean bristled. He didn’t like rich out-of-towners and their curt demands.

  “There’s no such street as West Evergreen,” he informed her. “Shut your engine off. You’ve been filling the street with exhaust fumes.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said easily. “I have plenty of gas.”

  Was she smirking at him? Did she think this was funny or that she was being cute? To hell with the environment, if she could afford to burn through gas then she would?

  Dean had half a mind to reach through the open window, yank her out of her luxury automobile, and let her spill across the dirty sidewalk, but he tempered his bristling emotions and repeated, “You want directions, turn your damn engine off.”

  The smile she shot him with her pretty, pink mouth and rosy cheeks was overtly sarcastic, and as she obeyed, pulling the key from the ignition and stepping out of the Mercedes, she demanded, “Help a lady out of her car, please! Or were you raised in a barn?”

  He’d been raised in the wilderness, and by wolves no less, but if he threw that in her face, it would only make her right, so he just glared at her over the sleek hood of the car.

  It definitely bothered him that he noticed her slender height. She stood at about 5’5” and her blonde hair was longer and wavier than he’d initially assumed. Silky.

  She snapped her fingers and complained, “A hand? My feet are killing me!”

  Was this broad serious?

  Fine. He rounded the car, coming to the street and trying not to drink in the sight of her plush, pink skirt suit that looked like it belonged in a fashion magazine and not on anyone who had dared set foot in Devil’s Fist.

  Taking her arm, he frowned at her when she didn’t start towards the sidewalk so that this would be over. Instead, she examined her small feet, which were wedged into a pair of very uncomfortable-looking high heels.

  She wriggled one heel off as she held his muscular arm firmly and whined, “They’re gorgeous, but they kill.”

  “Why wear shoes that kill?” he asked, hoping his tone would imply that he thought she was an idiot.

  “Didn’t I just say they’re gorgeous?” she hotly returned as she flexed and pointed her bare foot. “The air is dry and dusty,” she complained. “Hold my arm!”

  Dean screwed his face up and wished he knew why he was obliging this woman.

  “You’re probably looking for Evergreen,” he told her. “Not West Evergreen. There’s no such thing. Where are you really trying to get to?”

  As she slipped her massaged foot back into her high heel and proceed to flex and stretch the other, holding Dean’s arm firmly all the while as he kept her steady, she said, “It’s not an address, per se. That’s why I’m having one hell of a time trying to find it, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Are you kidding me, lady?” he shot back. “You want my help, but it’s none of my business where you’re going? That’s rich,” he snorted.

  Having returned her other foot to its high heel, she shoved him off, smoothed her hands down the front of her expensive-looking skirt suit and said, “Why don’t you show me into that bar? I have to use the ladies’ room.”

  Aghast, he just stared at her and when she blinked her big, green eyes up at him and offered what he could only assume was a compromising smile, he sarcastically pointed to Libations and said, “There. That’s the bar. Now I’ve shown you.”

  “Chop, chop,” she asserted, taking hold of his bicep and holding her head high.

  She couldn’t be serious, but she was.

  Dean had no idea what kind of silver spoon this girl had stuck in her mouth the day she was born, but he hoped she choked on it. Fine. He would show her into the bar and then join his brothers, he decided, as he walked her to the entrance door of Libations.

  She cleared her throat, prompting him to open the door for her, and Dean felt a roiling swell of irritation burn through his chest. But he did as she expected, opening the door and following her into the bar.

  She immediately screwed her face up and cut those big, green eyes of hers up to him.

  “What in God’s name is that smell?”

  He rolled his eyes, and pulled—more than escorted her—towards the ladies’ room at the back of the bar, hoping none of his brothers would see him with the entitled monster-woman who had somehow managed to get him to wait on her, hand and foot.

  “Bye,” he told her as he shoved her towards the bathroom door.

  She let out a yelp, shouldering into the ladies’ room against her will, and when she was fully deposited inside, Dean returned to the table in the rear where his brothers were laughing and enjoying the celebratory night.

  Troy was the only one not laughing. Instead, he was looking at Dean, a curious expression on his face.

  Crap, he probably saw Dean coddling the out-of-towner.

  As Troy stood from the table and edged out from in-between Reece and Lucy, Dean mentally prepared the brush-off excuse he would use to nip whatever conversation he had coming to him in the bud.

  “Who was that?” Troy asked him.

  Dean couldn’t read his oldest brother’s expression. Troy had never looked quite like this before.

  “I have no idea,” he said honestly. It was true. He hadn’t gotten the woman’s name and it definitely irked him that her flowery perfume had clung to his arm. He could smell it now even though he had safely escaped the entitled woman. “Some chick from out of town.”

  Troy looked as though he had been caught in a puzzling energy that wouldn’t release him.

  “Why?” asked Dean when Troy fell into a furrowed, mesmerized state as if trying to ascertain whether or not the energy he was currently trapped in was accurate.

  “That’s her,” he finally said.

  “Who?” asked Dean.

  Troy locked eyes with him and said, “Your one true mate.”

  ***

  Dante lurked. A crisp breeze seeped across his slick skin, but he could barely feel it. He was hot, feverish, and felt mentally strained. His powers were vast, but it was still exhausting keeping an aspect of his energy radiating out in all directions to keep the Quinns’ crystals cool. It had been his strategy and an effective one. So long as he focused part of his mind intently on this task, none of the Quinns would be able to trust the purple amethyst crystals that Sasha Quinn had provided to them. They wouldn’t be able to use those crystals, feeling them heat up whenever Dante or one of his damned was nearby. But it also drained him.

  He could feel their collective energy pouring out from Libations bar, even through the brick wall he was standing next to at the rear of the building. All five Quinn brothers were inside. But no matter how powerful Dante was, he still wasn’t able to tap into their minds and hear their thoughts. He had no way of predicting their next move, but he knew they were in there, plotting and planning. They would strike again, if he didn’t strike first.

  The only thing he needed, the only thing he was waiting for, was the dark energy of the full moon. It was two weeks away. But even the full moon would have its downside. If it filled Dante with power and energy, so too would the Quinns be imbued with the same advantage, and none of them were in the feverish throes of expending part of their power to keep crystals cool.

  Dante felt his jaw clench and the urge to shift, but he held off, willing himself to remain in his human form. He had failed time and again to successfully mate with a worthy woman. He knew that birthing offspring to promote his bloodline was imperative, but he’d had stroke after stroke of bad luck in that department. How many female residents had he turned? Countless, and yet none of them had lived up to their potential in this way. Ordinarily, being feared was more valuable th
an being loved, but it had certainly complicated his hope to bear children.

  He envisioned his plan as he eased away from the brick siding and climbed into his parked Lexus that was tucked between a dumpster and Jack Quagmire’s pickup truck. In just two weeks, his army would strike, taking over the entire town. Dante would take Quinn’s life and either preside over the Quinn clan pack as he’d always been meant to do, or—if the pack was disobedient—he would kill each and every one of them himself. Of course, it would be far more satisfying to have Kaleb, Shane, Conor, and Dean serve him for the rest of their enslaved lives after their brother and king, Troy, was killed. But Dante wasn’t going to make any determinations about which way the wind might blow when they all crossed that bridge.

  For now, the best course of action would be to organize his troops, solidify the mission, tailor the battle to win the war, and hopefully, in the interim as his army waited for the full moon to strike, Dante would connect with a worthy woman, turn her and impregnate her, and sit back as his masterful plan fell gracefully into place.

  It might not be easy, but it was certainly inevitable, and one thing was fantastically clear. Now that Sheriff Rick Abernathy was serving him, he would be able to roam free throughout the Fist and do as he damn well pleased.

  Dante felt his mouth tug into a wicked grin just thinking about it as he drove through the quiet streets of Devil’s Fist. He couldn’t wait to see the look on all of the Quinns’ faces tomorrow when he would show up at Angel’s Food, walk the sidewalks as he pleased, order cocktails at Libations, and be devilishly brazen.

  This was going to be one hell of a ride.

  ***

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Dean said as the information washed over him. The spoiled little rich girl who was taking her sweet time in the ladies’ room was destined to become his one true mate? There had to be some kind of mistake. The woman had no business being in the Fist, much less any business being in Dean’s heart. There was just no way. He hadn’t been rubbed the wrong way like this by anyone, ever, and it made zero sense that the one person who had managed to get under his skin in less than two seconds flat was going to irritate him for the rest of his life. “Maybe you’ve had one too many.”

  “I’m telling you,” Troy maintained as he clapped his large hand over Dean’s shoulder. “My foresight is crystal clear. I wouldn’t guess my way through something like this. She’s the one.”

  Dean glanced desperately around the crowded bar and hoped, “Maybe you got your signals crossed and the girl for me was nearby?”

  “Destiny doesn’t lie, my friend.”

  It was, hands down, the worst news he’d ever received in his life, and what bothered him most was that, as offensive as the girl had been, he knew that he’d also felt slightly drawn to her.

  But it had only been slightly, and it was reasonable to chalk the emotion up to the fact that she wasn’t ugly and Dean wasn’t just a man, he was a werewolf, with all the urges that came with it.

  “We’ll see about that,” he countered, unwilling to bend to the will of fate.

  Troy turned for their table just as the door of the ladies’ restroom swung open and Dean grabbed his brother’s arm and begged, “Don’t go.”

  “Huh?”

  “Just…” Dean tried not to slide his dark eyes towards the woman who had snapped her fingers at him out on the sidewalk, but he couldn’t help it. When she touched eyes with him, he turned towards Troy and said, “Just hang on a second. Talk to me. About anything. Just until she leaves.”

  Even though his back was to the woman, he could feel that she wasn’t making her way through the crowded bar to return to her parked Mercedes. And the humored expression on Troy’s face confirmed it.

  “Not sure that’s going to work, bro,” said Troy. “She’s definitely heading this way.”

  “Hello?” she demanded in a disgruntled, yet softly feminine tone. It both grated on Dean’s ears and—to his horror—aroused him. “A real gentleman waits for a lady.”

  Facing her and glaring down into her undeniably pretty face, he brutishly informed her, “I’m no gentleman and if that’s what you’re looking for, you’re in the wrong town.”

  “Cute,” she sneered up at him as if it would take a hell of a lot more than that for him to get off her hook. Taking hold of his muscular bicep again in a ladylike, and also wildly aggressive, fashion, she said, “Walk me to my car. My feet still hurt.”

  Troy, who couldn’t stop grinning—it was as though Dean’s misery tickled him—asked her, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  She narrowed her big green eyes into slits as she looked him up and down, perhaps sizing up whether or not he was of the right pedigree to even begin addressing her. After a beat, she allowed, “Elizabeth, if you really must know.”

  “Elizabeth,” Troy echoed. “This is my brother, Dean, and I’m Troy.”

  “And I’m exhausted and frustrated,” she hotly informed him. “So, if you don’t mind, I’ll excuse myself from this…” she glanced around, turning her nose up at her rustic, Wyoming surroundings, “dive bar.”

  “You’re a real peach,” Troy complimented and Dean had to chuckle at his brother’s implied sarcasm.

  But Elizabeth hadn’t caught his tone one bit. “Thank you, Troy,” she said earnestly, fully inflated by the compliment before she snapped at Dean, “Shall we?”

  As he escorted her through the crowded bar, Elizabeth at times angling her soft physique against him when the passage way became especially narrow, he couldn’t help but notice the warm grip she had on his muscular arm. It felt like she was testing his strength, exploring his hard muscles with her slender fingers, and savoring the delight of a strong-bodied man seeing to it that she made it to her car safely.

  Women like Elizabeth so weren’t Dean’s type. He might not have been in a relationship, well, ever, but he still knew what he looked for in a girl. He didn’t have to have a serious relationship under his belt to know that girls who walked around with their noses in the air and expected everything handed to them in life didn’t do it for him. Dean liked strong, self-sufficient woman who took charge and stood on their own two feet.

  Not only could Elizabeth not stand on her own two feet, she was the sole person who had sabotaged any chance of accomplishing that much. Who the hell wore high heels that crippled them? Women who expected someone else to carry them through life, that was who!

  When they reached the door, he pulled it open for her and helped Elizabeth out onto the sidewalk.

  Aww, goddamn it! he mentally cursed. Did she have him trained already?

  “There’s your car,” he curtly informed her. “Good luck finding Evergreen and have a nice life.”

  He turned for the bar, but her smile sucked him right back in.

  “What?” he asked as she stared up at him with her big, green eyes. “I think you can handle opening your own car door, honey, and if you can’t then maybe you should’ve thought twice before buying the thing.

  She let out a breathy, little laugh and told him, “I didn’t buy this car.”

  “Of course, you didn’t,” he scoffed in agreement. She probably hadn’t bought a damn thing in her life. “Goodnight.”

  As he started back towards Libations, her voice stopped him. “It’s late and I can’t very well get to where I’m going in the dark.”

  “Ever heard of headlights?”

  She smiled demurely—oh, was she trying to play nice now that she needed something from him?—and sank a touch into the curve of her hip, trying to accentuate her delicate femininity as if that was all it would take to get him to cater to her whims further.

  “That’s not exactly where I was going with that,” she coyly mentioned.

  “What do you want?” he groaned.

  “Might you be able to recommend a quaint little bed and breakfast around here?”

  “There’s a motel out on the plains,” he said, hoping to get rid of her. The sooner the better. “Take M
ain all the way out,” he explained, pointing east up Main Street. “You’ll see a flashing neon sign that says Adult Video. Can’t miss it.”

  Horrified, she frowned at him, her greens eyes round as appalled saucers, and snapped, “I’m not going to stay in some fleabag motel that’s primary advertising boasts pornography!”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. There aren’t any bed and breakfasts in the Fist.”

  She pressed her mouth into a frustrated line and groveled, “Are you sure you don’t know of any place I can rest my head that won’t have bedbugs?” When he didn’t immediately respond, she threw a little flattery his way. “You look like a man who knows this town like the back of his hand. I’d peg you as someone who maybe… has a nice place?” she guessed, flashing him a sultry smile.

  He had to laugh. Was she out of her mind? She thought he would just roll out the red carpet and let her sleep at his place? Was she crazy?

  “Good luck, lady,” he said and didn’t look back as he disappeared inside the bar, leaving Elizabeth to stomp her sore foot on the ground in a huff.

  Chapter Two

  ELIZABETH

  Elizabeth felt like her skin was crawling as she woke up to the feel of scratchy sheets. Her motel room smelled of stale cigarettes and poverty. Was that a bug bite? Had something bit her in the night? Her arm felt itchy and she pushed her satin sleeping mask up her forehead, gasping to discover a red, itchy dot on her forearm.

  She’d never in her life prayed that she’d been bitten by a mosquito or spider, but those insects would be infinity preferable over having been eaten alive throughout the night by bedbugs…

  …or fleas. This motel seemed like a real fleabag establishment and it didn’t help that her neighbors had made loud sex noises. The disturbing sounds had pounded through the walls, as well as whatever horrible movie they’d been blasting on their room TV.

  She couldn’t wait to get out of here, and not just the motel room.

  Places like Devil’s Fist, Wyoming, were not her cup of tea.

  She crawled out of bed, making a conscious effort not to look at the sheets. The last thing she needed was to discover that she had, in fact, slept in a nest of creepy-crawlies. She smoothed her hands down her white, silk nightgown and neared her Louis Vuitton suitcase. Once she showered and dolled herself up, she would feel more like herself, so that’s what she proceeded to do.