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Walking over to him, I took in his weight and height—trim, not lean, toned forearms and biceps—he was no stranger to keeping in shape. I couldn’t for the life of me remember his name, although he often worked the same days as me.
With his dark, chin-length blond hair, short and trimmed blond beard, and cornflower blue eyes, he was pretty in a kind of shady dick way.
“You have something you want to say to me?” I asked him boldly.
“I lost two hundred last night,” he said simply, putting the cloth he was holding on the tray. He folded his arms across his chest, and I saw the biceps bulge. His loose T-shirt hid his physique well.
“You shouldn’t have bet against me,” I replied with a smirk. He was pissed he lost. Well, he’d seen me fight before, so how was it my fault he bet wrong? Turning away from him, I headed back to the door.
“Didn’t know Vance was rigging the bets.”
The accusation stopped me dead. Slowly, I turned back around to face him, my eyebrow raised. “What did you say?”
“You took a beating. Bullet got you good. Yet you’re walking around here like you hardly stubbed your toe. I call bullshit.”
“I won the fight,” I hissed at him, stepping into his space. “Or did you forget?”
“You won? Or Vance staged it?” His tone and his look told me he thought it was the latter.
Running my eyes over him again, I quickly glanced at the others in the bar—some were openly watching while some were trying to be more subtle. I was confident that they couldn’t hear us over the low-playing jukebox.
“Look, I can’t remember your name”—I told him honestly, noticing his surprise at my admission—“but I won, fair and square. Next time, bet smarter.”
“How are you walking?” he demanded. “How are you even standing?”
“Natural ability.” I spat at him. “Bullet hits like a girl.”
“You are a girl.” He scoffed, unimpressed.
Shit. I was a girl, but shifting into my wolf had healed me. I should have played it smarter.
Fuck. I needed to think fast.
“So…you worried about me?” I tried for coy. My rapid shift in attitude caused the opposite effect I was hoping for. Instead of being flirtatious, his eyes narrowed, and he looked me over once more.
“No. You deserved to lose, but you didn’t. You took a beating, or you looked like you did. But looking at you now, seeing you work all day without a complaint, tells me one thing.”
“That you have staring issues?”
“That it was staged. Vance rigged it. I was cheated, and I don’t like being cheated.”
I gaped at him. He held my stare steadfastly. Angrily. He was sure he was right, and I did not know how to persuade him otherwise. So, I played the only hand I had.
“You’re a sore loser. You have a problem with your bet? Go tell Vance.” I saw him flinch. “He’s very open to talking about money. I’m sure he’d love to hear your theory that he cheated you.”
Finally, making it to the door, I pushed it open and stepped out into the night. My anger fueled my feet to walk quickly, but two or three times, I slowed as I caught the unknown scent from earlier.
Was it a wolf? No. I knew wolf.
Didn’t I?
Halfway back to the small attic apartment I rented over a garage, I heard the sound of engines, guttural and loud. I hastily looked behind me as I jogged home. The lights in the distance were getting closer.
Motorbikes?
My walk home was along a dark track that no one else used. It suited me. Tonight, it may be another reckless mistake on my part.
The bikes were getting closer. Quickly, I left the track and ran to the trees. Entering the woods, I took cover as the bikes raced along the track. When I heard them coming through the trees, I spun in alarm.
