by Dannika Dark
As much as I wanted to turn around and make sure I wasn’t imagining things, the last thing I wanted to do was give anyone the impression that I was checking them out. Men often outnumbered women in Shifter communities. That wasn’t the strange part. But guys, especially alphas, loved having their women by their sides. Even Shifters who lived in mansions liked to get out and socialize, including women. Perhaps I’d wandered into the Bermuda Triangle of the South.
Just as I found my location on the map, my burger magically appeared.
“Ketchup?” the bartender asked.
“No, thanks,” I said warily, eyeing my smashed bun. “Can I have some mustard?”
“There’s a gas station five miles up the road. Ketchup is all we’ve got.” He patted the bar twice. “I’m Red. If you need anything, just holler.”
My uncle Denver worked as a bartender, and if I knew one thing, it was how long it took to properly grill a burger. This wasn’t fresh. It was a precooked patty he’d tossed in the microwave. The bun had that distinct freezer burn smell bread gets when it’s been in cryosleep for too long and is then revived in a toaster oven.
“Is the city girl too good for our food?”
I swung my eyes to the man sitting three stools over—the one with a grizzly bear tattooed on his forearm and a camouflage cowboy hat atop his head. “Is the country boy too good for manners?”
The two men on either side of him heckled him. “She got you there, Jimmy.”
When the jukebox switched over to Patsy Cline, I resumed squinting at the map. Shikoba, the dealer I was meeting with, had provided directions that began with street names and ended with landmarks. “Turn right when you see a big rock” and “turn left at the white tree.” The rain needed to let up so I could see the big rock and the white tree.
“Something wrong with your burger?” Red asked.
When I heard the disappointment in his voice, I took a bite. No sense in insulting the staff. It required all the strength I could summon to swallow that bite, and I struggled not to gag when I realized it wasn’t beef. Probably deer meat, or maybe something else was added as filler. I quickly shoved a handful of fries into my mouth and washed it down with root beer. “Do you know where I can find a man named Shikoba?”
He rested his forearms on the bar, and I spied a grease stain on his button-up denim shirt. “Are you law?”
“No. Just a friend.”
Jimmy leaned over the bar to grab a stack of napkins. “You’re friends with an injun?”
“Quiet down,” Red snapped.
Oh, what redneck hell did I just walk into?
I’d visited Oklahoma several times, and usually the locals were amiable people. Then again, I’d never been around these parts. Regardless of the flagrant use of offensive words, I had a job to do, and someone in here might be able to point me in the right direction so I could be on my merry way.
Red leaned in and said quietly, “Don’t mind him. He recently lost his mate and ain’t been himself.”
“Do you know anyone by that name?” I asked Red.
Jimmy leaned forward and pushed up his camo hat with his index finger. “They all sound the same to me. Like someone hacking up a lung.”
My blood boiled. Thank the fates Hope hadn’t come with me, or else I would have gotten my arrows out of the car and taught Jimmy some manners.
The thought was still playing out in my head while I methodically folded my map, making sure each crease was precise. “I just assumed you guys were local and knew everyone around here. My mistake.”
Someone circled around to my right, slowly, so I would feel his presence as he appraised me. When the black-haired man spoke, it was edged with humor. “Twenty dollars says she’s a bobcat.”
I smiled up at him. “I’ve got thirty riding on you being an asshole.”
His eyebrows arched high. “Yep. She’s lippy. Definitely a predator. Grizzly?”
Jimmy spoke gruffly. “She’s not a grizzly.”
The bartender laughed. “And how do you know that, Jimmy? She bathes?”
Then the power flickered, followed by a crash of thunder. Several men in the back hollered, clearly enjoying the light show outside.
I ate more fries, amused by the banter among the men. It wasn’t uncommon for Shifters to have a little fun with the tourists by guessing their animal. It had become a recreational pastime, and my old pack had engaged in the same behavior numerous times back at Howlers on a slow night.
I whipped my head around when I heard a baaaa.
The bartender peered over the bar. “Will one of y’all get Freddy the hell out of here? Damn drunk. Hurry up before he shits on my floor.”
Jimmy slid off his barstool and picked up the goat. “Come on, Freddy. You ain’t supposed to be in here on the weekdays, anyhow.”
And just when I thought things couldn’t get any stranger…
A formidable man entered the bar. His brown hair, just past his shoulders, blew forward and tangled when a gust of wind carried in the strong smell of rain. Lightning flashed behind him, and he didn’t so much as flinch at the thunderclap. He stood at the entrance as if he were guarding it, his blue eyes arresting.
Chills swept over my arms, and for the first time, I felt butterflies in my stomach. Not the kind you got when danger was imminent but something else entirely, something that made me suck in a breath and hold it.
Lakota Cross, Hope’s older brother, had matured into a handsome man whose very presence commanded attention. It was as if he’d shed every last boyish feature he’d carried into his twenties. Now thirty, he possessed a magnetic aura—one that could easily be mistaken for an alpha wolf, even though he wasn’t.
The white T-shirt beneath his leather jacket hugged his body. Not an ounce of fat was visible. I was so used to seeing him in sweatshirts or long shorts that it took me a second to soak it all in. He tucked his hands in his jeans pockets and fell into a staring contest with Jimmy, whose lip curled at the sight of him. Just as Jimmy exited the building, two Natives entered the bar and flanked Lakota.
They garnered stares from a few men sitting at the bar. It was in that moment that it occurred to me that all the men sitting in the booths on the other side of the divider wall were Native American, and none of the men on my side were. It was as if I’d stepped into a time machine and transported myself to 1952, and not in a good way.
I patted my hand against the bar to summon the bartender. “Exactly what are the rules in here?”
He popped open a bottle of beer before answering. “No fighting, no shifting, and no skipping out on the tab.”
“That’s it?”
When he pointed behind me, I glanced up at the wall over the jukebox to a sign I’d failed to notice. It was wooden, and the red paint had faded. An arrow pointed to the right, and the lettering read TRIBES.
Which meant the place segregated patrons. Two black men were doing shots at a booth behind me, so it had nothing to do with skin color and everything to do with the local tribes. I’d never seen anything like it in Austin. Some Shifters resented Natives because they owned good land passed down from their ancestors—land that neither the white settlers nor the higher authority had gotten their hands on. Usually I’d seen the animosity in the form of a few grumbles between packs, but nothing like this.
I swung my gaze to Lakota as he swaggered toward me, his eyes slicing across the room. As he closed the distance between us, my heart quickened. Will he recognize me? What is he doing here?
The moment his eyes slanted in my direction, my stomach tightened into a knot.
“Better keep those eyes in your head,” a man at the bar spat. “Don’t look at our women.”
Now these rednecks are coming to my defense?
I could almost hear my heart beating with each step he took. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Recognition flickered in his eyes, and they widened just a fraction. When he averted his gaze and moved past me without a word, I realized I wasn’t supposed to know
him, and he wasn’t supposed to know me. I sized up his two friends, each wearing a single braid down their back. They kept their eyes trained on the wall, uninterested in the dripping-wet woman who was gaping at them. I could smell rainwater on their clothes as they walked by and disappeared around the divider wall.
I faced forward and frowned at the bartender. “If you don’t like them, why not ban them?”
The bartender laughed and shook his head. “I got nothing against the tribes. They’re half my income. We got a bunch of old-timers living around here, though. The wall keeps everyone happy, and I don’t have to break up as many fights. Ain’t one of them complained about it.”
I lifted my root beer and gave him a mirthless smile. “That’s really progressive of you.”
The black-haired man on my right turned toward me and drummed his fingers on the bar. “Where you from?” he asked, his voice threaded with suspicion. He didn’t have the same twang as everyone else. His accent was a slow Southern drawl that told me he wasn’t local.
“Texas.”
He narrowed his eyes and smiled. “And your pack?”
“It’s rude to ask what my animal is.”
He scratched his five o’clock shadow. “I wasn’t asking. I was… making an assumption. Bitches are so easy to spot.”
Bitch wasn’t a word in my former pack’s vocabulary, but it was a common, innocuous term among Shifters. Despite his friendly banter, my head was still reeling from seeing Lakota. What are the odds?
It made sense that he was taking jobs where there were more tribes. He could easily blend into the fold. Having been raised in both cultures, Lakota would have no trouble relating to the nontribal outlaws as well.
But here, in the middle of nowhere? What kind of insidious crimes are happening at the corner of the white tree and the big rock?
Staring back at that sign was making my stomach roil. I’d always considered Hope’s family an extension of mine. Their culture was steeped in tradition, and it had never been an “us and them” situation. Racism existed among Breed, but it was between different animals or Breed types, not because of color or heritage. No one trusted Vampires, Mages and Chitahs were mortal enemies, Shifters were looked down upon because of our past as slaves, and Sensors weren’t taken seriously since their business practices were seen as perverse.
It made me ashamed to be sitting on the side I was, but something told me the resentment flowed both ways. The place had a history all its own that my brief visit and a few enlightening speeches weren’t going to change.
Jimmy returned to his seat and tossed his camo hat on the bar. “Someone tell them to keep it down,” he complained to the bartender. “A man can’t think with all that hootin’ and a-hollerin’.”
The noise on the opposite side of the wall amplified—boisterous laughter overlapping the chatter. The bartender left his station and disappeared around the corner. Moments later, the volume dropped just as fast as turning a dial down on a radio. He returned, filled two pitchers of beer, and disappeared again.
Rubbing my finger against the condensation on my glass, I asked the dark-haired man beside me, “Where are all the women?”
He shrugged. “Not many single girls in these parts.”
I chuckled. “So you keep them home, barefoot and pregnant?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe a lady has no business being in a rowdy place like this.”
I glanced at the décor and sipped my drink. “I can’t say I blame them.”
“Sometimes a mated one comes in for a drink… without her mate. That usually stirs the pot. Are you tied to anyone?”
Since I really wasn’t in the mood for a personal interrogation about my love life, I kept stuffing cold fries into my mouth.
When he touched my hair, I drew back. “Hands off,” I said. “This isn’t a petting zoo.”
“Sorry. I mistook you for a peacock with that color.”
“Maybe you should buy a bottle for your mate.”
“Maybe.”
“A Shifter who’s truly in love wouldn’t be caught dead hitting on a stranger in a bar.”
“She doesn’t care what I do,” he said matter-of-factly. “We have an open relationship, and I’m always open to taking in another mate.”
While he rambled on, I couldn’t shake the image of Lakota out of my mind. My thoughts drifted back to many years ago when I’d lost my way in a snowstorm. I’d walked in circles on our property, unable to see in the darkness. I was cold and frightened—my pride and confidence stripped away. Then I remembered how Lakota appeared out of nowhere, like a knight on horseback. It was the first time I’d ever felt my heart quicken. The fates had always put him in the right place when I needed him, so it made me apprehensive as to why we were having yet another chance meeting.
“So what do you think?” the man asked.
I blinked at him. “What?”
A humored grin stretched across his face. His aquiline nose and large nostrils made his features appear narrower than most. He tucked his fist against his chin. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? What could be going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
“Maybe I was just coming up with solutions for the world’s energy crisis.”
A shadow appeared in the corner of my eye, and I peered over my shoulder. Lakota was facing the jukebox, his palms resting on the top as he leaned forward, shifting most of his weight to one leg. My gaze swung down to his ass, and normally I didn’t notice such a thing on men, but Lakota had a noteworthy frame. He wasn’t overly tall—just a few inches over me. I liked that. I’d always liked it when a man was closer to my level. It meant my face would fit perfectly in the crook of his neck.
Not that my face had spent much time in the crook of any man’s neck recently.
I couldn’t strip my eyes away from him. He was my best friend’s brother, and I had absolutely no business memorizing his ass.
Lakota slowly pushed a button, and the energy in the room fired up to the beat of “Cradle of Love” by Billy Idol.
He casually glanced over his left shoulder and locked eyes with mine. In that moment, something transpired between us. My entire body flushed with embarrassment, as if he could somehow sense I’d been admiring him. He drank me in, down to my shoes and back up to my eyes. I couldn’t see his mouth to tell if he was smiling, but his provocative gaze made my throat dry.
I jerked my head toward the mirror in front of me and took a swig of root beer. My hair was damp and tousled, my eyeliner smudged, and my tank top still wet. I casually swiped my finger beneath my eyes to fix my makeup, ignoring the fact that I could still feel him staring at me while Billy Idol screamed about teasing and pleasing.
It made me aware that I was straddling my stool more than sitting ladylike. He had to have recognized me, but I wondered what his impression was. The last time he’d seen me, I had blue hair. Or was it pink?
“You got a problem?” Jimmy growled. He was addressing Lakota.
My eyes fixed on the mirror when Lakota sauntered up. He eased between us and extended his arm, signaling the bartender for a beer with one finger. He smelled like leather and musk. It became incredibly difficult to remain nonchalant, especially with a guy who had always been playful with unrestrained physical affection.
The bartender popped the lid to a bottle and set it in front of him. When Lakota slowly turned toward me, he drew in a deep breath as if taking in my scent. His lips pressed tight like those of a man who wanted to say something. But he played it cool and strode off with his beer.
Jimmy lowered his voice. “You stay far away from them if you know what’s good for you. Those redskins ain’t nothing but murdering savages.”
I clenched my jaw. So help me, if someone uses a derogatory word one more time, I am going to set this place on fire. The last thing I needed to do was lose my temper and accidentally shift, so I pulled out my phone as a form of distraction.
“I’m dead serious,” he continued. “Som
e of the women around here look at them like forbidden fruit. Well, you know what happens to people who eat forbidden fruit.”
I looked at him with disdain. “They gain knowledge?”
“They get thrown out of the garden.”
“Go back to your beer, Jimmy,” the man to my right said, a smile playing on his lips. He propped his elbow on the bar so he was facing me all the way, his body language open. “I’m Crow.”
“Is that your animal or what you like to eat?” I gave him a sardonic smile and gulped down my drink.
Crow wasn’t my type. Imperious attitudes were common among Shifter men, especially when they were flirting, so that wasn’t a deal breaker.
But the way he kept inviting himself to touch me was.
I brushed his hand away from my arm. “Maybe you should go check on your goat in the parking lot so I don’t hit him with my car when I leave.”
“Anything I can do to make you stick around for another drink?”
I swiveled to face him. Because my wet tank top had stretched lower than usual, his eyes took an unapologetic detour down to my cleavage. He looked slightly disappointed at my shortcomings. My breasts were large enough to identify me as a woman but did not hold a man’s rapt attention for long. My legs, on the other hand, did.
But Crow never got that far. His gaze fixed on the turquoise pendant around my neck—one Hope had urged me to wear as a means to impress the dealer. “What was the name of the person you’re looking for?”
“Shikoba. Do you know where he lives? I just want to make sure I’m heading in the right direction. And before you ask, my business is none of your business.”
He lit up a cigarette and took a drag. “Look, normally I don’t get mixed up in their affairs, and you shouldn’t either, if you were smart. This isn’t the big city, and naive little girls like you get hurt. But I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.”
When laughter broke out on the other side of the room, I recognized Lakota’s laugh. Somehow, my brain filtered it from all the others. What is he doing here?
Crow released a smoky breath and gestured to my folded map. “Let me have a look at that.”
