Page 7 of Brock’s Mate

“There aren’t supposed to be, but a few farms around here have been hit lately. Some animals were even killed. The vet who looked at the bites said wolf, or wolf dog.”

The gong rang, but Brock barely noticed his partner leaving.

She was here. The wolf from the alert was here, in the Farville area.

Not again, his wolf said. You promised.

Chapter 3

Desi Phillips drove her car into the parking lot of the Lynx’s Den Bar and Roadhouse. It was full of cars, which was exactly what she wanted.

A place where she wouldn’t be noticed.

Aside from trips to the grocery store by the highway, it was the first time she’d been out in public since she’d found this miniscule town just after New Year’s, and rented the tiny, isolated cabin she’d been hiding out in.

All that time, there had been no sign of her ex, Jered, or his fucked-up friends. No one following her, no one snooping around the house, no calls, no messages.

It had taken her two moves and three different identities, but it seemed like she’d finally shaken him off.

Now it was time to get a job. She was low on cash, and she was down to the minimum in her escape fund. She couldn’t ever afford to be flat broke; she always had to keep enough back to start over somewhere else.

Bartending or cocktail waitress were usually her top choices. The shifts were flexible, you could make a decent amount in tips, and drunk people gossiped, so it was easy to keep track of any strange happenings or unusual people showing up around town.

Plus, it was a high-turnover job segment. No one paid much attention as people came and went, and they were usually casual about references and background checks.

So this solo night out had several purposes—a good burger with a whiskey chaser, getting used to being around people again, and checking out job prospects.

She parked near the exit, like she always did, making sure no one could block her in. Then she crunched across the gravel to the front door, repeating to herself, Desi. My name’s Desi. From Oklahoma.

The downside of being in hiding all these weeks was that she wasn’t used to this name yet. She had to burn it into her brain; there couldn’t be any slipups.

Because of that, it wasn’t until she was almost to the door that she bothered to read the glittering sign above it. Speed Dating? Desi started to grin. A bunch of horny drunk people all trying to hook up in time for Valentine’s Day? No way that could go wrong.

Should be pretty entertaining, though. It would also give her a chance to see how the bar management handled drunks, fights, and people having sex in the bathroom.

When she stepped into the vestibule, she felt like all her senses were being assaulted. Too crowded, too loud, too many overpowering scents—sweat, perfume, lust, anger, anxiety.

Run away! said something inside her.

No. She took a deep breath. Desi Phillips—or whatever her name happened to be on any given day—did not run away. She made strategic escapes when necessary, but she didn’t back down from what needed to be done, either.

One more deep breath, and she made herself step inside, only to find her way blocked by a sign-up table manned by three of the hottest guys she had ever encountered.

She looked at the two seated at the table, and for a minute she thought she was seeing double. They looked exactly alike—blond and gray-eyed with identical cocky grins, wearing identical blue button-down shirts filled up with muscles that said they spent half their lives working out. And judging from the way they checked her out when they saw her, they spent the other half chasing women.

Their dark and sexy Latino friend standing nearby seemed to have already caught one—a woman with tawny hair who looked like she could kick your ass in a heartbeat.

Blond Guy #1 greeted her. “Welcome to the Lynx’s Den. You need a date for Valentine’s Day?”

His patented Cocky Asshole grin suggested she could skip the speed dating portion of the evening and just move on to him.

“Not with you,” she said. “I hate being… what is it? Tenth choice? Twentieth?”

His grin widened. “Sorry, babe. I know you want me—who doesn’t? Unfortunately I’m already taken, so I’d have to break your heart. But I’d do it gently.”

She snorted. “If you need gentle, babe, you couldn’t handle me.”

His double turned to him and said, “I like her.”