by Amy Star
*
As they approached the glass-and-neon entrance of Respectable St. Café, Matthew felt something twitching inside of him; some inner alarm he couldn’t quiet. “I don’t like this,” Matthew told Dylan and Nadine in a low voice.
“I don’t either,” Dylan replied, his voice equally quiet. “But we have to get through it.”
Matthew knew as well as Dylan did that if C knew anything about their current predicament with the lions, there was a lot more at stake than just an attempt at vengeance from some ragtag group. C—short for Christopher—was one of their clients, but not someone that either Matthew or Dylan strictly trusted. Matthew had pegged the man for what he was almost as soon as they’d met up with him the first time, a couple of weeks before. C was a werewolf, a member of a loosely organized pack in the area. They’d done a quick job for him when they’d first arrived, taking care of a guy who’d tried to get out of paying his fair share on a deal. Matthew and Dylan hadn’t asked for details on what kind of deal it was.
“What kind of person is this?”
Nadine looked from Dylan to Matthew, and Matthew wished that there was some safe way to have not included her in the meeting. She’d dressed the part—and part of him was distracted at the effect her pencil skirt and filmy blouse had on her body. Another part of him was worried about how C would react to an obviously gorgeous one-natured human attending a meeting he’d agreed to.
“He’s got ties to a couple of different…underground…industries,” Matthew explained quietly. They were getting close to the entrance; close enough that the man checking IDs had spotted them. “He won’t touch you unless he wants to lose a hand.”
“Both hands,” Dylan said, correcting him. “He’s not cuddly like us, but he knows what’s going on in the scene that we haven’t had time to learn about.”
“You guys? Cuddly?” Nadine’s lips twitched with the start of a wry smile. The mirth evaporated from her face the next moment. “I take your meaning. I’m guessing it’s best if I keep my mouth shut?”
“As much as possible,” Dylan said with a nod.
“IDs, folks,” the man at the door said as they walked up.
Matthew reached into his pocket and took out his wallet; Dylan did the same, and Nadine pulled her purse around to find her own wallet. Matthew glanced up as he found his driver’s license from Portland and handed it over to the bouncer; the guy wasn’t hugely built, but he was easily as tall as Matthew was. Matthew surreptitiously sniffed—he was a normal human, not a shifter. And he had given Nadine a quick once-over. No harm in that, Matthew reminded the animal in his mind. She looks good enough to eat; guys are going to have a look. Especially in the back. The man at the door became all business as the IDs came out, and took each one in turn, looking at the picture, the DOB, and then glancing up to confirm that the person in front of him matched the card in his hands as much as could be expected.
He tore three paper wristbands off of a page and Matthew put his hand out to be tagged, glancing around the busy downtown street. It wasn’t a busy night—that much he could tell—but the clubs and bars lining the other side of Clematis were still doing relatively brisk business. He could hear conversations buzzing at the coffee shop almost directly across the way, more slurred and drunken ones happening at the picnic tables in front of the Irish bar a few buildings down. Matthew turned his attention back to the situation in front of him and saw that all three of them had their wristbands; Dylan was moving to enter the club, and Matthew put his hand on Nadine’s shoulder, silently stepping through the door behind her without a glance at the bouncer as they passed.
The inside of the club was dark—of course, that was to be expected, but it took Matthew’s preternaturally acute eyes a moment to adjust from the bright entry as they stepped through the entryway and onto the dance floor. To the right, he saw a few people had already made their way onto the stage to dance. On the left a few clusters of people were drinking cocktails, smoking cigarettes, and talking in excited whisper-shouts that blurred into the music pumping through the sound system. Matthew wrinkled his nose slightly as he breathed in the myriad of smells in the club, stronger to his supernatural senses than they would be to any of the normal humans hanging around: cigarette smoke layered in the fabric of the couches, long since stale, spilled alcohol and a riot of perfumes and colognes.
“There he is,” Dylan said, and Matthew turned to look.
On the opposite end of the club, there was a door leading out to the patio, and Matthew saw that C was talking to the diminutive, dark-haired woman setting up the outside bar. The werewolf was smiling, yellow-orange light glinting off of the silver insets on his teeth. He was dressed in what Matthew considered almost the werewolf uniform: dark-washed jeans and denim jacket, a well-worn tee shirt underneath. Fortunately for him that blends right in here, Matthew thought, comparing it to the looks some of the other people at the club sported.
“Should we grab a drink first?” Matthew looked at the bar; there was a tall, slim man with long, black hair and glasses, wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, moving back and forth behind the two bartenders—a woman with bleached blonde hair in shorts and a cut-up tee shirt and a bald man with a reddish beard that had grown down to his chest.
“Probably the safest thing we could do,” Dylan agreed.
Matthew kept his hand on Nadine, subtly claiming her for the gazes of any of the men in the club who might want to chat her up, as the three of them strode towards the bar together. Matthew could feel the slight tension in Nadine’s shoulders; the way she carried herself was a mixture of nerves and pure confidence.
She wasn’t sure what to expect from their meeting, but she was acting the part of a woman who’d gone out with two guys—maybe friends, maybe lovers, maybe one of each—to the hilt, letting her hips sway just slightly.
They stopped at the bar and Matthew glanced through the open door onto the patio again, making sure that C hadn’t moved. He’s here for a meeting—but that’s not the only reason he’s here. Get the shit done as quickly as possible and get back to the hotel. The bleach-blonde bartender appeared in front of them, smiling warmly.
“What can I get you?” Dylan glanced at Matthew and then at Nadine.
“Jack and Coke with a lime, please,” Nadine said, pitching her voice to be heard over the sound system.
“Same,” Matthew said when the bartender’s glance fell on him.
“Make it three,” Dylan finished, leaning against the bar.
Matthew took a quick, deep breath to suppress the tension gnawing at his stomach. A drink would help, but he had no intention of having more than maybe two at most in the course of the evening; he wanted to keep his wits about him as much as possible, and if they needed to make a quick getaway for any reason at all, more alcohol would just screw things up.
The bartender mixed their drinks quickly, and Matthew took another opportunity to look around the club; it was still early enough in the night that the dance floor was more than half empty, but he estimated that there were at least twenty, maybe thirty people in different areas. He scented the air and caught the smell of a few werewolves and another bear shifter like himself and Dylan.
No lions—that at least was good news. In a matter of moments, their drinks were on the bar, and Dylan produced two twenty-dollar bills, handing them over to the bartender with a gesture to tell her to keep the change. Matthew watched as Nadine plucked the lime wedge off of the rim of her cup and squeezed it into her drink, stirring with her straw before taking a sip. He followed her movements; he’d never had Jack and Coke with anything other than ice added to it. The lime added something unexpected, and Matthew raised his cup to Nadine, inclining his head to her.
“Let’s get these down, case the place a bit, and then meet with our friend,” Dylan said, pitching his voice so that only Matthew would hear him over the sound of The Strokes playing through the speakers.
Matthew nodded his agreement and looked
around for a good place to position themselves. His gaze lit on the benches attached to the wall and he nodded in that direction for Dylan’s benefit, letting his hand fall to the small of Nadine’s back to steer her there. Matthew considered their situation: the club was a good place to have a meeting—at least one like this, where it wasn’t as likely to be packed with nosy people trying to hear what everyone else was saying. The music was loud enough to drown out a conversation, but not so loud that they wouldn’t be able to hear and speak.
The back patio was probably exactly where C wanted them to be, and Matthew wondered what strategy was behind that choice. He glanced at Dylan a few times as they sipped their drinks, watching the ebb and flow of people on the dance floor. Matthew knew that Dylan had his own strategies up his sleeve—something that he would be able to hold over C’s head if it came down to that, a carrot to offer if it was needed. The two unknown factors in the situation were Nadine and C himself. All you can do is go along with the plan, Matthew reminded himself. Nadine wasn’t stupid; she’d shown she was more than sharp enough, both by the way she’d taken care of herself when Alex had grabbed her, and when she’d made her own arrangements for her part in the evening.
“We should head back,” Dylan said, when all of their drinks were halfway finished.
Matthew nodded, showing up in the back with freshly-made drinks or empty cups would give the impression that they’d either been waiting too long to meet with their contact or that they’d only just arrived. It would also make them more noticeable—to anyone who might be paying attention—and therefore attract anyone who might be feeling nosy to try and find out what the meeting was about. Matthew grabbed Nadine’s hand and pulled her a little closer to him; she had gotten up and started dancing to one of the songs absently, doing her own reconnaissance.
The three of them walked through the club, and Matthew took another quick sip of his cocktail, glancing more than once at Nadine. Whether or not he had confidence in her, Matthew was worried about the woman; she was still injured, and she wasn’t exactly trained—in spite of the sparring they’d done earlier in the day. He smiled slightly to himself, feeling the rush of heat to his groin at the memory of how their sparring had ended. He had known good and well that part of Dylan’s motivation in sending him up to the room while he made phone calls in the lobby was to force some time alone between himself and Nadine. Think about that later. Right now you’re on the job.
Matthew spotted C, still standing by the bar; the werewolf glanced in the direction of the door as he, Dylan, and Nadine stepped through it and gave them a quick nod. He said something to the bartender and turned away.
“Good to see you could make it out,” C called, walking to meet them. A DJ was in the midst of setting up along the wall; a few people had started to congregate in the patio area, chatting and waiting for things to pick up. “Let’s sit here,” he suggested.
Matthew saw C look Nadine over and suppressed the urge to pull her closer to him. This was a business meeting; and C was a werewolf. He’d know right away what Nadine was—and who she was, in relation to Dylan and Matthew.
“Good to see you, C,” Dylan said, climbing over the bench at the picnic table C had pointed to. C sat down on the opposite side of the table, and Matthew moved to take his own spot, with Nadine between him and Dylan. “I understand you can help enlighten us as to some pests we’ve been dealing with.”
C nodded, one shoulder rising in a half-shrug. “I know some things,” he said. Matthew watched the werewolf’s gaze switch from Dylan to Nadine to himself, saw the look of calculation in the other man’s eyes. “So you two bros are sharing a mate?”
“That hasn’t been decided, exactly,” Matthew said, keeping his voice cool and level. “Nadine’s here with us tonight because she wants to learn more about our trade.”
C raised an eyebrow, giving Nadine a longer, more appraising glance. “You’re the girl got cut by that asshole Alex,” C said to Nadine.
“I got cut getting him off of me,” Nadine said.
Matthew resisted the urge to smile at the firm, confident tone of her voice.
“Can we get down to business? I’m glad you’re feeling sociable, C, but we’re not really here to shoot the shit,” Dylan said.
“Right—you got some stalkers giving you grief,” C said, turning his attention off of Nadine. He looked from Dylan to Matthew. “Your boy Alex, you know anything about him?”
“Just what our client had to say, which was nothing good,” Matthew replied. “Tried to take what belonged to another man, killed somebody in the process, killed another bystander in the scuffle to get him.”
“He’s working under a panther I know,” C said. “Not a nice guy. Your boy had an arrangement, it seems. Got some of the others of his tribe involved. Sad business when an asshole like that thinks he can shake up established businessmen.”
“So why are his people after us? Can’t be just revenge or they’d have tried to take us out.”
“Seems his patron might have a notion you know more about Alex than just what he did to wrong your client,” C said, shrugging. “Alex was sitting on some graft money—biting the hand that feeds him. Whoever returns it to its owner—rightful or not—gets the new deal.”
“Shit,” Dylan murmured.
Matthew looked at his longtime friend. He knocked back the last of his drink as the significance of C’s information filtered through his mind.
“How many people are in this little gang?” Matthew met C’s gaze.
The werewolf shrugged. “I call it maybe twenty. Nothing at all for two tough dudes like you guys.” He smiled slightly. “What have you got to offer me in exchange for such primo information?”
Matthew glanced at Dylan again. His friend knocked back his drink and tossed the plastic cup into the trashcan behind him.
“We can give you some details about an operation going on in south Broward,” Dylan said. “Might be the sort of thing you want to put a stop to. Small-time guys, but they’re hustlers.”
“I’m listening,” C said. He glanced at Matthew’s empty cup and at Dylan’s. “But first, let me buy you a round.” C’s gaze fell on Nadine’s cup. “And for the lady, too. It would only be polite.”
Matthew watched their contact rise and move quickly to the bar and reached down, putting his hand on Nadine’s knee and giving it a brief caress. He couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel—even if he knew that their situation was about to become even more complicated. They were going to have to take out the entire group—and they were going to have to do it fast.
CHAPTER NINE
Nadine’s ankle throbbed as they walked towards the car, but the alcohol she’d consumed kept the pain to a dull twinge.
“So I’m guessing, based on what your contact said, we’re in deep shit,” Nadine said quietly, looking around to make sure that they weren’t being followed. Of course, if we were, I’d be the last to know, she thought wryly. Both of them would either smell or hear before I would.
“Yes and no,” Dylan said, reaching down and taking her hand in his. He gave it a little squeeze. Matthew quickly took her other hand and Nadine felt almost foolish—as if she were a child, nestled between two adults, preparing to cross the street. Part of her wanted to drop both men’s hands, but their presence was oddly comforting. She let the implication of their instinctive moves pass out of her mind. “If they’re working to try and be top man—or woman, I guess—for a guy running underground trade, and there’s some money on the line…”
“It’s bad,” Matthew continued. “But it’s not the worst thing that could happen.”
Nadine snorted. “Well the worst thing that could happen would be for them to, like…I don’t know. Think that you guys had the actual money. Or be more organized.”
She felt out of her depth in the sudden criminal turn her life had taken. They’re mercenaries—and you’ve asked them to get you involved in their life too. Of course they’re involved in illegal shit. Nadine
resisted the urge to reclaim one of her hands to check her forehead for signs of fever. What is wrong with me that this is just…okay?
“We’re going to have to find out where they stay,” Dylan explained. “And then we’re going to have to take them out. Not the easiest thing in the world, but not the hardest either.”
Nadine pressed her lips together, thinking about what she had learned that evening. Even a month prior—even two weeks before—she would never have thought she would be involved with not one but two men who were part of a semi-criminal underground, who had enough life experience to consider taking out an entire den of were-lions to be ‘not the easiest thing in the world, but not the hardest either.’ And now, in my life, I know there are people who turn into bears, and people who turn into panthers, and people who turn into lions, and wolves… She shook her head at the realization of just how drastically her life had changed in such a short time. Really, I might as well go ahead and quit my job and see if I’m as much of a potential bad ass as Matthew thinks. How in the world can I possibly go back to a normal life after all this?
“You okay?” The sound of Matthew’s voice pulled Nadine out of her thoughts and she looked at him with a weak smile.
“My ankle is less than happy,” she admitted. “Also I’m kind of…” She glanced at Dylan. “Basically my entire life is turned around by all this. It’s a little weird.”
“Once we get rid of these guys,” Dylan said, giving her hand another squeeze, “things will settle a bit.”
“Yeah,” Nadine said.
The two men stopped as they arrived at the car, and Nadine thought, once again, that the fact they owned a used Honda for the purposes of getting around in verged on the bizarre. She stopped with them and Dylan relinquished her hand to take the keys out of his pocket.
“I just feel like…” she sighed. “I’ve already agreed to kind of see both of you at the same time. I’m aware of what you are. I’m aware of this huge underground world that I didn’t even have the slightest clue existed before. I don’t even know if I can go back to being just a data analyst sitting at a desk for eight hours a day.”
