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Normally, she would have accepted that he was probably right. But damn, everything about the bar felt threatening on an instinctive level. This place was bad news, all in front-page headlines. Even the smell of the place… it was earthy and wild. Every instinct was screaming to get back in her car and gun it.
Dave went on ahead, reaching the door several steps behind Roxie.
She forced her legs to speed up and caught the door as it was swinging closed, bumping it just enough to shimmy inside. “Dave…”
And froze like she’d been turned into stone.
There were bad choices and then there were ones on a completely different level. World-ending. Last-breath kind of choices. What she was facing was the latter of those kinds. Because this wasn’t just a little dive full of thug bikers…
It was full of werewolves.
They all wore human bodies, but the way they moved, and smelled and the hungry violence in their eyes gave it away as clear as a bell ringing over her grave. She tried to calm down enough to shake free of the way her muscles were locked in place. She needed to be in motion, not trembling and helpless.
Dave and Roxie were already climbing onto stools at the bar.
She sucked in a slow breath, trying to overcome the panic. Obviously, she had to run. But she couldn’t just leave them behind. Somehow, she had to save them, get them out of danger. But how? It wasn’t as if they’d believe her if she screamed “werewolf”. Yeah, that never worked. Should she just grab them? Should she pretend to be sick? Maybe fake a call from the hospital?
Then it was too late.
A big Latino with long greasy hair sidled up to Roxie’s free side, dropping his thick hairy arm over her shoulder. The next few moments flashed by almost too quickly to register. Roxie had objected. Dave tried to be heroic.
And the wolf did what his kind did. He killed them both. Though of course, it didn’t happen quickly at all. It was just that after the first few motions she stopped registering the details of what was happening right in front of her.
She stumbled a step backward while stifling the scream that desperately wanted to escape.
And then the other werewolves turned her way.
Chapter Two
Zeven Ochoa kept his face bland in spite of the human’s insulting behavior. The dumb fuck should have better sense than to act dominant even if he was the employer in this deal. How did Donnelly even survive while living among the Coyote Clan?
The animal hating prick tried to stare him down, but failed, turning back to the papers stacked on his desk after only a couple seconds. “Will it be a problem, hunting outside the Rattlesnake Clan’s territory?”
He’d been trapped in the human’s stale, antique filled office for barely ten minutes, and he was already willing to kill the bastard without a second’s regret. The acrid scent of the human’s hair dye and perfumed body made him yearn for sunshine and bare sand.
But this was business.
“It’s never been a problem before.” Why would crossing territory borders bother him, when none of the nearby clans gave a shit what or who he did. Why would he even bother to ask such a stupid question? Alone, he wasn’t much of a threat to any of the clans. Unless someone wanted them dead enough to pay his exorbitant assassination fees. As a client, Donnelly would know that, so why was he dicking around, wasting time? “If that’s all…I have people to kill.”
The tap-tap-tap of approaching heels was paired with the scent of an angry wolf bitch. That would be Sheila Donnelly. The double doors of the office slammed open making Jack Donnelly jump and then shrink just slightly in his seat. The female marched into the room. Her hands slammed down on the desk, and she growled. “Did you hire that killer yet, Jack? Think about the timeline. We can’t miss this opportunity. There is too much at risk for you to wimp out or delay this particular job.” Her angry voice fell lower with every word.
Clearly, she hadn’t even noticed his presence. He had done pretty good erasing his scent and pheromones. Then again, maybe living with a human was just dulling the bitch’s senses.
Meanwhile, Donnelly’s body language screamed submissive, which was wise for a human facing an angry wolf, even if he was married to her. He stayed seated when being challenged and avoided her eye contact completely. When he spoke, it was quiet and without looking up from the folder he was organizing. “I have already handled it.”
She made an angry snorting sound and spun about on her heels, no doubt intending to storm dramatically out of the room, to do the job she thought her husband had failed to handle correctly. But the motion that turned her away from her husband, brought her face to face with Zeven. She lurched to a stop, gasping and clutching at the collar of her elegant blouse.
Some people reacted to him that way, almost as if they could see the darkness inside him, or maybe guess at how little value he placed on their lives. He twisted his mouth slightly into a mockery of a smile.
She stumbled backward bumping into the desk. “Oh!”
Donnelly calmly shuffled his papers. “I told you that I would handle the details. Do you approve, darling?”
“I didn’t notice…” She took a breath, drawing it into her lungs, savoring it like only a wolf could do. Her gaze hardened, turning calculating. “Indeed, you have done perfectly. It seems our plans can stay on schedule now. I’m sure our clan’s little problem will be eliminated in no time.” Her back straightened. One hand fluttered toward where her long hair was styled, pinned and sprayed in place on the top of her head before she reined in the impulse.
What was the point of a style like that? It would be undone as soon as she transformed. And the stink had to piss off her own wolf spirit. Why bother?
Strange as she was, her reaction to him was completely typical. Just like her, most wolves reacted strongly to his alpha nature. He might still be young compared to most, but he’d proven his strength over and over. He was an alpha even if it was only of his clan of one.
