Wild Horses in Love

by Terri A. Wilson

  Gerri patted her knee. “That’s when you find the best ones. So, tell me, do you like rough sex, maybe a little bondage, a couple of tickles, rope?” She winked.

  Opie choked on a drink of coffee, and Ronnie laughed.

  “Tell me you’re not thinking of who I think you are thinking of,” he said to Gerri.

  Gerri grinned. “Maybe. Is he still around?”

  Ronnie put his feet on the floor and rested his arms on his legs. “No, he left last night. Needed to get back to San Francisco.” He studied her. “Hate to say it, Gerri, but I don’t see it. He can be a douche.”

  Gerri uncrossed her legs and walked to his desk. She tore off the top sheet of a notepad, wrote on it, and handed it to Opie. Then she glared at Ronnie. “That is why you do what you do, and I do what I do.”

  Opie noticed the phone numbers and a name on the paper.

  “The top number is my number,” Gerri started. “Call me when you get back into the country. The second is the phone number of my friend from The National Landscape. She is on her way to Zimbabwe to write a story on an all-female, anti-poaching unit. These amazing women are changing law enforcement for this country. Her photographer just quit, and she needs to find a new one.”

  She had never been to Africa. What an exciting opportunity.

  She called after leaving Ronnie’s office, and the writer offered a contract for her and Zari. Zari couldn’t go.

  She spent a week following and talking with the women. It had been the most incredible week of her life. Their camaraderie wasn’t like anything she’d seen before. There wasn’t any of the typical catty relations women are known for. They lived by their mission. Though none of them were shifters, they functioned better than most packs.

  The women knew of shifters, but many of them never saw one. It was fun to see their expressions when Opie let her horse consume her human side. They wanted her to stay and work with them, but as hard as it was to leave, her heart would always belong in Rio City.

  Chapter Two

  Dominic

  Present Day

  If this guy didn’t shut the hell up, Dominic Kingston would hit him. Not a sucker punch to the gut, but an in-your-face-you’ll-see-it-coming punch. Worse than any kind of pain he could inflict would be the withdrawal of Dominic’s money. And, as much as he didn’t mix business with personal, sometimes the way a person acted outside of the office was a massive indicator of how they ran that business.

  The waitress set down their drinks.

  Christopher Stevens, Dominic’s guest, grabbed her by the waist and attempted to pull her to his lap. “What’s a beautiful girl like you doing running drinks in a shithole like this?”

  Dominic scoffed. First, it wasn’t a shit hole club. It was a number-one hotspot in San Francisco, according to the reviews. Second, the cover charge was higher than any club around. Third, it was Dominic’s club, and that alone assured it wasn’t a shithole.

  The waitress feigned a smile and shimmied free.

  “Christopher, Chris, you realize the women are not on the menu here?” Dominic asked.

  Chris rested against the back of the white leather sofa. The smirk on his face was childish and reminded Dominic of the many bullies he battled as a kid. “Well, they should be.” He let his head drop to the side, then pushed his body upright a little more.

  Dominic followed Chris’s line of sight to see him eyeing another waitress serving drinks. Her top was a bit too small for her chest. Chris licked his lips, and Dominic clenched his fist.

  “As I was saying,” Dominic started, “with a five percent interest and no penalty for paying it off early, you’re looking at a much better deal than the bank would offer.”

  Chris turned up his glass, finishing the tequila in one gulp. “I know you think you’re offering me a good deal. What I know is that you want to buy my diner so you can own the entire building.”

  “That’s been established. It’s not a secret.”

  Chris held up his glass to their server.

  “Wouldn’t you like to finish our business before partying?” Dominic rubbed the purlicue on his right hand. It was a coping method he’d learned in therapy. He let his gaze wander until it fell on the set of framed posters hanging behind the bar. They were a series of three black and whites featuring a distinct part of the female body and a bottle of Dalmore, his favorite scotch.

  A good friend invited him to the photoshoot from last year. He didn’t meet the photographer but saw her from a distance. She was in a heated argument with the client, and his friend worked to settle the dispute. In the end, the photographer flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder, packed up her equipment, and walked out with her assistant. Her confident walk and determined spirit made him hot.

  Several days after the shoot, he saw the pictures she took. It amazed him that a photographer could make an inanimate object come to life in such vivid detail. He bought them, framed them, and designed the bar around those photos.

  He dated a therapist once who told him he needed anger management. He told her to get dressed and go home, so that was the end of that. But years later, when he was arrested for assault after a bar fight, the court demanded he finish six group sessions. Rubbing the sensitive spot on his hand while studying those photos was the best idea he’d gleaned from his sessions, which proved to be more beneficial in the long run than the two-week affair with the group leader.

  “Hey, you were the one who suggested we meet here. Surround a man with beautiful women and free booze, what did you think would happen?”

  Dominic inhaled, held his breath for a count of three, then let it out. “Unlike every other developer who’s approached you, I’ve made you a decent offer to move. You’ll have a bigger place, be able to do more business and bring in more money. Your current diner serves as the down payment.”

  “See, that sounds good, but slick people like you always get the better end of the deal.” Chris crossed his foot over the other knee.

  Dominic’s head throbbed. The single-beat, bass-heavy music annoyed the shit out of him. Night clubs were easy money with inflated cover charges and over-priced drinks, but he hated them. The only reason he met with Chris here tonight is that he found the music and booze made people happy, and happy people made it easy to close deals.

  He leaned forward, moving his arms to rest on his knees. “I understand your hesitation. Your family diner has been an institution in this town. Correct me if I’m wrong, but your grandfather opened it with your father.”

  The female server bent over at the waist to set down Chris’s drink. He moved up and leered down her shirt.

  “They’re not for sale, sir.” Lainey, the server, met his gaze.

  Chris scoffed. “Where’s the blonde from earlier?”

  Dominic scanned the floor for Nat, the first server. She stood at the bar biting her bottom lip staring at them. Tex, the bartender, stood next to her on the opposite side, glaring at them. Tex served as a bouncer when necessary, and he was very protective of the servers. His natural lion-shifter instincts made him the perfect person for that job.

  “She’s busy.” Lainey shifted her gaze to Dominic. “I’ll help you the rest of the night, Mr. Kingston.”

  “I don’t think that will be much longer. Thank you.” Dominic pulled out the contract from his jacket. This guy needed to sign now before he caused a scene.

  Chris finished the drink like it was water. When he moved to set the glass on the low table in front of them, he missed, and the glass fell on the floor. He looked at it, waved his hand, and left it where it fell.

  Ass.

  Dominic unfolded the contract and set it on the table. “I worked with your grandfather and your father. They were good men. I’m sure they would have approved of the diner’s new direction.”

  Chris’s head jerked as he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t mention my father. The bastard is dead and gone. I’m sure hell already kicked his ass to the curb.”

  Dominic stiffened. Frank
and Roger Stevens were honest businessmen who went over and beyond to run a successful business.

  Chris yanked the contract from the table and scanned it. His entire body jerked when he burped. He threw it on the table. “I’m not signing. We aren’t moving. As you said, the diner is an institution. We’ve applied for historical status.”

  Dominic noticed Tex stopped wiping the bar. With a simple expression, he asked Dominic if everything was okay. Dominic gave a slight nod. If Chris weren’t bombed yet, one more drink would do it. He left the contract on the table.

  “That request will take over a year to substantiate. You and I both know you’re six months behind on your rent, and the last I heard owed about ten-thousand to your bookie.”

  Chris popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “Have you been prying into my personal life, fucker?”

  Dominic sighed again. He opened his shifter senses and observed the club. Hot, pheromone-reeking bodies moved on all three dance floors. There were only three open tables. Small parties occupied the other two VIP lounges. This may be the busiest night since opening. A brawl with this idiot would not fare well.

  “Chris, sit down.”

  Chris wiped a hand across his mouth. “I think I’ll dance instead.” He staggered to the main dance floor.

  Dominic stood and rested his weight on the railing in front of him. He jutted his chin to Tex and pointed to Chris. Both men watched the other man squeeze into the crowd. He moved behind one woman, lowering his pelvis to her hips and thrusting his hips against her. He stopped when the woman’s dance partner pushed him away.

  Chris shuffled over to a trio of dancing women. The women opened their tight circle and let him dance with them. They wore short dresses that rode up their thighs as they bent and moved. He made his rounds grinding his pelvis against each of them. His confidence swelled. Dominic could smell his pheromones.

  What Chris ignored were the smirks and eye rolls the women exchanged behind his back. It embarrassed Dominic.

  The women must have decided they wanted a break as they made their way to the bar.

  Chris wasn’t happy about that. He grabbed an arm as the last woman walked away. “I’m not ready to stop dancing.”

  Dominic locked eyes with Tex, who was already walking from behind the bar.

  The woman pulled her arm away. “I don’t care.”

  A man dancing next to them held out a hand, separating Chris from the woman. “Hey man, I think she just wants to get a drink. She’ll be back.”

  Chris turned his head. “Why don’t you stay the fuck out of things that don’t pertain to you.” He reached for her again, but she had already moved out of his grasp.

  Chris puffed out his chest and pushed the guy.

  Tex made it to them before Dominic could. He slipped his arms up Chris’ back and over his shoulders, pinning his arms.

  Chris squirmed in Tex’s grip. “Hey, man. What are you doing?”

  Tex pushed him to the bar. “Sit.”

  Chris started to say something but changed his mind when Tex growled. Chris gulped and sat. Tex stood on the other side with his chest puffed out and arms crossed. Only Dominic would notice the lion’s eyes glaring at Chris. Everyone else probably thought it was an effect of the lights.

  Dominic walked around the bar, stood in front of Chris, and laid the contract with a pen on the bar. “This is the last chance I will give you to sign this. You are out of profitable options, and I will not tolerate your kind of behavior in my club.”

  “Your club? This is your club? No wonder it’s a trash heap.”

  Tex pressed forward, but Dominic put out his hand to stop the shifter.

  “Mr. Stevens, I’ve had enough of you for this evening. Please sign and leave. My lawyer can handle the rest of this transaction.”

  Chris reached for the pen to sign, when Nat, the blonde waitress, stepped up to the bar close to him. She set down her tray and placed an order.

  Chris swiveled the bar stool. “Well, well, there you are, my queen.” He slid off his seat.

  Nat’s eyes found Dominic’s. Her fear was enough to make him react. He hopped over the bar, took Chris’s arm, spun him around, and slammed the guy’s face against the woodgrain. “You are done here. I wanted to give you a fair chance. As of right now, the diner is closed, and our deal is finished.”

  It was hard to understand since his face was smashed under Dominic’s hand, but it sounded like, “Youba can’t do dat, mother fudger.”

  “Actually, I can. Your bank is waiting for me to call and let them know this transaction is finished. They want to sell me your diner because you are a liability for them. Your application for historical status was a good idea. I’m keeping it open, but renovating it, bringing it back it what it once was.”

  Dominic nodded to Tex, who signaled two other guys.

  “I’m going to let go. Don’t start anything else,” Dominic said.

  Chris held out his hands. Dominic slowly let the man stand.

  He turned to check on Nat. She’d lost all color from her face. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, then her eyes doubled in size.

  A heavy weight fell against Dominic’s back. He remained upright and shook his head. Chris was a foot shorter than him. What made him think he could win a fight?

  “There’s no way you’re taking my diner. You piece of shit.”

  Dominic rolled his shoulders back, and Chris fell on his ass. “Family Memories hasn’t been your diner for years. You’ve run it into the ground and pissed on your family’s legacy. Now pick yourself off my floor and get out before you do something you regret.” Dominic turned around.

  Chris lowered his shoulder and charged, hitting Dominic in the midsection. Dominic returned his attack with an uppercut that sent Chris flying across the room.

  Two men pushed their way through the crowd of people surrounding them. They flashed some kind of law-enforcement badge.

  Chris pushed himself to his knees, but when he noticed he’d gained an audience, he crumbled to the floor, screaming in pain. “Arrest him. Did you see what he did? Arrest him.”

  “Looks to me that Dominic exercised his right to refuse service.” One of the men put his badge away then glanced over his shoulder to Dominic. “You okay?”

  Dominic nodded. “Get this ass out of here, Gary.”

  Gary and Dominic went back a long time. Gary’s partner, however, didn’t know Dominic. He walked behind him and tried to pin Dominic’s arms behind his back.

  “What are you doing?” Gary asked.

  “This guy used way more force than he needed.” He motioned to Chris, who still laid on the floor. “Looks like an assault to me.”

  Gary protested, but Dominic noticed the many phones recording the complete scene. Bad publicity was not what the club needed right now.

  He held up his hand. “Do what you must. I understand. We can sort this out at the station.” He locked eyes with Gary and then nodded to the crowd. Gary must have noticed the cameras, too, because his friendly demeanor changed.

  “Fine. We’ll call this in and wait for backup.”

  Gary told the other officer to deal with Chris while he suggested they go to Dominic’s office.

  Nat stopped Dominic as he passed. The young girl hugged him, and he felt small left-over adrenaline tremors. “I’m sorry you got in trouble.”

  He pulled back. “Hey, don’t worry about it. The safety of my employees is always important.”

  She gave him a shy smile, a pink blush rising to her cheeks. “Thank you. No one has ever stood up for me like that.”

  Tex joined them. “Nat, I made you a drink. You can have the rest of the night off.”

  She started to protest, but Dominic interrupted her. “With pay, and we’ll add twenty percent to cover tips.”

  Her eyes glistened as tears threatened to spill. He had to walk away. He hated to see women cry. It wasn’t the tears so much as he just couldn’t stand to see any of them sad or in pain.

&
nbsp; It stemmed from watching his mother struggle with her slow and painful death. Her cancer advanced to where even her shifter healing couldn’t fight.

  “Dom,” Gary said, “let’s get out of the limelight.” He nodded to a man taking pictures with a professional camera. Those pictures were not for an Instagram account.

  He pointed to the man, and Tex agreed to take care of it. The club never allowed paparazzi, but the confusion must have made it easy for one to slip through.

  Inside his office, he offered Gary a drink.

  “I shouldn’t. I’m not on duty, but…”

  Dominic handed him a beer from the fridge. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  Gary chuckled and accepted the bottle. After the first drink, he held out the bottle and checked out the label. “I’ve never heard of Wild Horses brewery. This isn’t bad.”

  “Thanks. It’s mine.”

  “Your brewing beer now?”

  “I’m part owner of an upcoming brewery in New Mexico. Right now, they’re just selling local until they perfect the process. Three brothers own it. Had a stupid name, Three Feathers, before I came along. The only thing I made them change was the name.”

  “That’s not a bad name.”

  “No, but it’s Wild Horses’ money that’s funding it.”

  Gary chuckled.

  “So, what do we need to do to clear this up? I want to call my lawyer if we’re going to the station.”

  “Nah, that’s unnecessary. The other guy was the one with the issue.”

  “True, but what about your partner?”

  Gary finished his beer. “He’s not my partner. He’s new, and I drew the short straw. Couldn’t think of anything to do with him so brought him here.”

  “Babysitting?”

  Gary nodded. “Babysitting.”

  Dominic took out his phone, scrolling through his contacts.

  “Don’t call your lawyer. I only brought you in here because there’s someone who wanted to see you. Says you’ll run away if I’m not here.” Gary opened the office door and let in a short firecracker with white bobbed hair.