Page 5 of Brock’s Mate

Customers saw it as a sentimental and possibly slightly creepy memorial to friends who had passed away.

What Brock saw was their ghost crew members sitting in two of the roped-off chairs, drinking spirit drinks and no doubt preparing to laugh their asses off while he tried to avoid getting a date for Valentine’s Day. Callie and Colt had given them their own private table so they could hang out at the bar with everyone else, and not have patrons constantly sitting on them. Nick waved, and Brittany blew Brock a kiss.

He surreptitiously shot them a middle finger.

“What are you drinking?” Mari asked.

“I’m thinking hemlock. Or possibly arsenic.”

Jaeda said to Mari, “I think he needs a Dirty Dominatrix.”

Visions of black leather and boobs filled Brock’s mind. Shit. He thrust the thoughts away.

Mari nodded. “Definitely.”

As they started to move off, Brock’s eyes slid toward the hallway that led to the bathrooms, and also to a back exit. “Forget it,” Mari said over her shoulder. “Titan is watching the back door.”

Sure enough, Titan was sitting on a barstool right next to the hallway entrance, with Brandon Fierro, their alpha. Titan waved to Brock. Brandon looked like he was trying hard not to laugh.

“Fuck,” Brock muttered.

The girls went off towards the bar, leaving Brock sitting conspicuously at his table with a bar full of women checking him out. Awesome.

He pulled out his phone to have something to do, but before he could wake up the screen it pinged with a special alert tone. Frowning, Brock swiped his thumb over it.

It was an urgent ‘Be on the Lookout’ from the Shifter Council to all regional Enforcers and members of the Department of Special Projects, where Brock used to work. He hadn’t even realized he was still on the alert list.

Brock tapped it to get the full message. It was a red banner alert—a rogue shifter. Brock almost dismissed it—no longer his problem—and then he caught the word ‘Kentucky.’

A rogue wolf had been making its way east across the plains, leaving dead and mutilated farm animals in its wake, and was now in his area.

The first thing Brock felt was a surge of relief that he wasn’t dealing with that anymore. Few shifters went rogue, thank the gods, but most of them couldn’t be saved. As a healer with special psychic talents, it used to be Brock’s job to try. A frustrating, painful, depressing job that he was glad to be done with—although he was officially only on extended leave. Once the Department of Special Projects got hold of a shifter with his abilities, it didn’t want to let them go.

He started to delete the message, but his thumb accidentally hit the link to a news story instead. It included a photo of the wolf—dark and blurry, but somehow arresting.

She—and he somehow knew it was a she—was staring straight into the camera, her head held up defiantly, lip lifted in a silent snarl. She might as well have had ‘trouble’ tattooed on her forehead.

And yet he somehow couldn’t look away. Something in her eyes held him there. She’d been on the rampage for over two months. She had to be smart and brave, not to get caught.

Which meant her human had to be smart and brave, too.

Stop fantasizing, he told himself. She’s got to be a hot mess.

There was no way he was going looking for this wolf, because if he found her, he wouldn’t be able to walk away without trying to help her.

His wolf growled. No more broken ones. They are not good for us. They mess us up. They make us angry.They make you sad.

I know.

You promised.

I know.

Jaeda returned with two dark-brown drinks just as Colt jumped up on the raised platform they used for bands and banged on a gong. “Okay, dirty guys and girls! You ready?”

There was a drunken roar of approval.

“Here’s how it works. You have five minutes and five dirty Valentine questions. Guys, keep them face down on the table. The question cards, I mean, not your partners.” Laughter from the crowd, and some disappointed groans from both genders.