In Deep Shift: The Protectors Unlimited Book Three

by Blackwood, Keira

  Now it was getting really interesting.

  “What does this weapon have to do with dragons?”

  “That’s the second part,” he said. “We have reason to believe the mercenaries, the Obsidian Claws, intend to sell this device to the dragons.”

  I wanted to squeal in delight, but instead only allowed myself a small grin.

  “Do you have any details on the exchange?” I asked.

  The car stopped. I looked out the window. We were parked in a dark, unremarkable alley between two brick buildings.

  “We’re here,” Drexel said. “The Tipsy Claw bar is the Obsidian Claws’ headquarters. I expect updates on your progress. Remember, I want the dragon and the device. The wolves don’t matter.”

  He reached over to the door and opened it, then returned to his seat. “Do you understand?”

  “Got it,” I said, and climbed out.

  “Good luck, Ms. Blake.”

  Luck? I didn’t need his luck. I made my own damned luck, and it was top-notch. I winked and shut the door, then popped my bubblegum and watched the SUV drive off.

  Here I’d started the day expecting everyone to scold me about how dragons weren’t real, or just to pretend they weren’t. Everyone at the Tribunal usually told me to forget that dragons even existed. Not today. Not Drexel.

  The heat of the day still hung in the early evening air, and the sky was aglow in a shade of rosy violet. The humidity was so heavy that my clothes stuck to my skin and my thick hair poofed.

  Loose stone crunched beneath the soles of my Converses as I walked toward the street. Signs lit up as the sky grew dark. Across the street was a bookstore and a cupcake shop. Weird. It was a wonder either business could survive in this part of town.

  The building to my left didn’t have a sign, but instead a big black illustration of a wolf was painted across the windowless bricks. Through the wall I could hear music, something with heavy bass and booming male voices. Beside the steel door was a big guy, leaning against the wall and smoking. His arms were as thick as my head—not an uncommon trait in the shifter world. He was also leather-clad from head to toe, except for his arms, which were bare. And the mustache—it was one of those long ones that dangled on the sides like little handlebars. I was tempted to reach up and pull on one, but I curbed that particular impulse.

  “Good evening,” I said.

  He looked me over slowly, his eyes lingering on my cleavage.

  “I hear this is a great place for a girl to get a drink and have some fun.”

  He tilted his head up, sniffing the air.

  “You some kind of cat?”

  “You can’t tell?” I teased with a smile. “I’m one-hundred-percent fox.”

  He opened the door. “Have fun. No trouble.”

  “Do you really think I could cause any trouble in a place like this?”

  He answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

  Okay, so he wasn’t as dumb as he looked.

  I gave him a mock-salute and stepped inside.

  The room was smaller than I’d expected, and smoky. There were lots of little nooks and crannies along the walls, and a bunch of tables. I guessed it wasn’t really small, so much as sectioned off more than most of these types of places. The lighting wasn’t a surprise—dark and dodgy.

  Conversations carried over heavy metal. Two women in lingerie danced on the bar, while others draped themselves over leather-clad biker types. The air was filled with the smell of hops, wolves, and sex.

  Gazes washed over me as I entered and made my way to the bar.

  Stilettos clicked across the wooden surface. I went for the side past the dancers.

  The bartender was a round-faced man with a full beard and a shaved head. He was tall and built, like pretty much every other shifter dude ever.

  “Can I get a glass of whatever beer you have on tap?”

  “Half Moon okay?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  He poured a full, frothy glass, and I pulled out some cash to pay.

  “Ladies drink free,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Well, that’s so kind of you,” I said. “Thanks.”

  I took a sip and turned around, glass in hand.

  I wasn’t sure what exactly I was looking for. Someone interesting, maybe the lead wolf.

  But instead, I saw a man who took my breath away.

  Black t-shirt, square jaw, bright yet hard eyes, dirty-blond hair, and clean-shaven. He was fucking gorgeous, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the intensity of his gaze, not on me, but on one of the wolves. That look was what made him interesting.

  Mr. Big and Brooding was sitting in the back of the bar, practically a shadow in the corner.

  I strolled over, set my beer down on his table, and took a seat right in the center of his line of sight.

  He blinked and looked at me. It wasn’t the appraising look I expected, the slow once-over. Instead, his piercing blue eyes settled right on my face.

  His jaw tightened, and a little blood vessel on his forehead ticked.

  He was annoyed—what fun.

  “Not interested,” he said. His voice was deep and cold, and somehow still really fucking hot. He resumed his death stare at one of the wolves, leaning slightly to the side to see around me.

  “Interested in what?” I considered getting in his way again, but decided to try the nice chatty way first.

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Harsh,” I said, before taking another swig of beer.

  Leaning forward, I breathed him in. In a den of wolves, this guy was something else. His scent was woodsy, like the smoke of a bonfire. Strangely, I couldn’t tell if he was a shifter or not.

  “How’d you get in here?” I asked.

  His forehead ticked.

  “You don’t have to tell me, sure,” I said. “But I noticed you after all of about thirty seconds in the bar. How long until one of them does, too? Like that orange bearded dude with the tattoos on his face. As soon as he pulls his tongue out of that chick’s throat, I bet he’s going to have his eyes on you.”

  Mr. Big and Brooding looked at me, his glacial eyes assessing as he scanned my face.

  Finally I’d caught his attention.

  “You’ve been either eye-fucking him or eye-stabbing him for a while now, I’m guessing,” I said. “Really, it can come off as kind of the same look. And either way, he’s bound to notice and bring his buddies over here. And my guess—they won’t be gentle.”

  The tightness in his shoulders eased just a little. It was the opposite of what I’d expected.

  A high-pitched voice came from nowhere. “Ooooooh, sassy.”

  I looked around, but no one else was over here.

  Mr. Big and Brooding mashed his hand in his lap. Was it possible that he was the one who had spoken? If so, the dude was flat-out nuts. Wondering which way that would go made him even more intriguing.

  “You should get out of here while you can.” His icy blue eyes were still cold, but his tone was actually a little sweet. That is if I’d been into the whole letting a dude protect me thing.

  Hmm, was he trying to protect me? Or did he just want me to get out of the way?

  “Thanks for the advice,” I said. “But I think I’ll keep my front row seat.”

  “For what?”

  “For whatever comes next.” I pulled my chair closer to his, so I, too, could watch the room.

  My knee brushed against his, shooting a little coil of excitement up through me.

  His eyes flicked to mine, lingering there a moment longer than I expected. They were hard, calculating, but there was emotion in there, too, even if it was hidden away. I watched the way he inhaled, the way his eyes lingered on my lips, and it made me hot.

  He pulled his leg an inch away, and just like that, the moment was gone.

  Maybe he was the dragon I was looking for, the one who’d come to make a deal for the device. Or maybe he just wanted to stab the burly biker in the bac
k. Either way, I was happy to be close to the action. And whoever this guy was, he didn’t press me to leave.

  We sat and observed the bikers. We watched two guys pushing each other for dibs on a topless chick who looked quite pleased as they fought over her, a lot of talking and making out, and a lot of drinking.

  I leaned my head a little closer to the stranger. “So, you friends with these guys?”

  “No.”

  “Me neither,” I said.

  “Then why are you here?”

  “The beer’s not bad,” I said, and drained the last of the glass. “I’m Mia.” I offered him my hand.

  He looked at it, then looked at my face. There was something there, behind the shield of stoicism, like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t.

  “Not going to tell me your name?” I asked, retracting my hand.

  “What do you want from me, Mia?” His voice was hard, his eyes unyielding. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and I got a good look at his wide shoulders and thick, flexed biceps.

  He had a hard jaw, wild hair, and wilder eyes. His look toed the line between clean-cut soldier and rockstar edge, and he was poised to strike at a moment’s notice. He was big and hard, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on, something that got me hot and bothered in the best way. I could think of a few things I wanted from him.

  I settled for his wallet.

  When I didn’t answer him, he looked back over to the red-bearded biker. And I made my move.

  It was a simple thing, a quick, subtle flick of the wrist, and I slid the wallet from his back pocket.

  I slipped my hands under the table and glanced down. There it was. I pulled out his license and laid the wallet on the table.

  “She’s taking your shiiiiiit,” the high-pitched voice whistled. It was definitely coming from Mr. Big and Broody’s direction. From this close, there was no freaking question.

  “What...how did you…” He snatched the wallet from the table. And his reaction at this point was pretty much the same as anyone else’s. He was flustered and a bit mad. But to be fair, I had asked what his name was and he could have just answered.

  I glanced down at the license before lifting it up where he could see.

  Zane Wilson.

  “Zane,” I said with a nod. It was a good name, fitting.

  “Give me that.” Zane plucked the card from my fingertips.

  His eyebrows knitted together and the little blood vessel ticked on the side of his forehead.

  “You could have just told me your name.” I shrugged.

  His lips flattened into a hard line.

  “And what’s the story with the weird ventriloquist act?” I asked. “I mean, you don’t even have a puppet.”

  “It’s not—”

  Just then, a chair slammed against the hardwood. The music cut short.

  “Hey, asshole.” A harsh voice carried across the room.

  I looked. So did Zane.

  The dude with the orange beard and the face tattoos was barreling toward us like a bull.

  I smiled at Zane. This was turning out to be an interesting night. It just kept getting better and better.

  Chapter Three

  Zane

  His gray eyes blazed with hate as Roadkill stalked toward me. Confrontation was inevitable, but the sexy fox shifter at my side complicated matters.

  “I know you.” Roadkill waved his finger at me. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

  Silently, I rose to my feet. Mia followed my lead.

  Roadkill snarled and grabbed the edge of the table, the vessels in his neck bulging as he lifted.

  We took a step back as the table flipped, shattering Mia’s empty glass on the floor by our feet.

  “You’re the guy from the Congo,” Roadkill said. “The fucking flying demon.”

  Bikers herded the women from the back of the bar. Doors opened and shut, feet scurried, and two lackies flanked their leader.

  Mia’s attention flicked toward me.

  Was she waiting for a cue or was she reacting to what Roadkill had said? It was too late for her to walk away, though I wished she would. At this rate, I’d have to protect her when the wolves made their move.

  The sprite squirmed around in my pocket. I held my palm tight over the opening to keep it from wiggling free.

  “Hell no,” Roadkill said. “You can’t just walk into my bar—”

  His words cut short as Mia struck like a cobra, shoving her palm against his nose. The quick movement caught me, and the wolf shifter, by surprise.

  With his blood dripping on the floor, Roadkill reached for his face. “Get them, you idiots. Kill them both!”

  Bones cracked as the Claws shifted. Both men fell to the ground, fur racing across their skin.

  I stepped in front of Mia and jabbed a needle into the neck of the wolf on the right. Fangs tore at my calf—I’d been too slow to catch the second wolf before his shift completed.

  Mia kicked the dog in the ribs, repeatedly, relentlessly.

  Her green eyes were alight with excitement, a reaction that baffled me.

  She wanted a fight.

  Roadkill grabbed her wrist, dragging her to his chest.

  She shouldn’t have been here, shouldn’t have gotten involved with me. Now I faced a complication. Now I had to save her.

  The wolf on my leg persisted in his assault, so I turned and punched him between the eyes.

  Stunned, he released me.

  As I took a step toward Mia, pain stabbed through my left leg, pain and weakness.

  Roadkill snapped her arm, and she cried out.

  Fury flashed through my veins. With all my might, I threw my fist. My knuckles burned on their impact with Roadkill’s face. His jaw snapped and his head bounced off the wall, then his body hit the wall a half-second after.

  Biting her lip, Mia looked up at me with pain clear in her sea-green eyes. It pierced right through my chest, worse than the ache in my injured leg. Strange.

  “Let me see,” I said.

  “No.” She hugged her arm to her chest.

  “Mia...please.”

  She slowly held out her arm. Her forearm bent unnaturally. Before she could change her mind, I took her wrist and elbow in my hands and snapped the bone back into place.

  She winced, but didn’t scream. I’d seen grown men—shifter men—cry for less. She was strong.

  Strong, and stubborn. And she was trouble.

  Sounds from the back of the bar grew louder, closer. The others were returning from the back rooms.

  “Can you walk?” Mia asked, looking down at my leg.

  “Yes.”

  Mia started for the door.

  I placed a hand on her shoulder. Bare skin brushed my fingertips. She was so soft, so warm.

  “This way,” I said, and turned for the same location I had used to enter the bar—the bathroom.

  “Okay…” Mia said, and followed.

  After we were both safely inside the small space, I locked the door.

  Mia looked around, spotting the window right away.

  “This is how you got in here, isn’t it? So you didn’t have to charm the bouncer?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “This is it. Now climb out.”

  “Bossy, aren’t you?”

  She did as I said, climbing onto the toilet and out the window.

  Angry voices grew louder.

  The door cracked with a thud. The knob jiggled.

  “Why not just burn them?” The sprite’s shrill voice slipped out of my pocket. “Dragons are supposed to burn things.”

  “Shhh,” I said, then climbed out the window.

  When my feet hit the ground, Mia was standing there waiting—with a smirk.

  White-blond hair framed her oval face. Her locks were wavy and tangled, frizzy almost, but the look flattered her. Her big green eyes were lined with thick lashes. She was beautiful, stunningly so. And she knew it—that much was evident in the way she stared back at me.
Clear as day, she knew it.

  And I knew she was nothing but trouble.

  I looked away, down the alley toward the street.

  “We need to move.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Lead the way.”

  Careful not to put too much weight on my left leg, I started down the alley, away from the lights of the street.

  The path turned and became well-lit as we reached the lot behind Chubby Fries.

  “Where’s your car?” I asked.

  “I don’t have one.”

  “How’d you get here?” I met Mia’s gaze, regretting it as soon as I did. I found it difficult not to stare, and that compulsion made me uncomfortable.

  Mia shrugged.

  Car or not, it didn’t matter. We had to leave, and there wasn’t time to debate.

  I climbed on my bike, and before I could offer, Mia hopped on behind me.

  Her soft body pressed against my back as she wrapped her arms around me.

  My cock stirred as her scent enveloped me. It was warm and earthy like roasted pecans, sweet like sugar, and spiced with cinnamon.

  I blinked hard and focused on the road, then pulled into a busy line of traffic.

  Mia’s long blond hair whipped in the wind, up over my shoulder, against my face. The faster I drove, the farther we were from the Claws and the tighter she squeezed me. I wanted to go faster, but I didn’t. Instead, I slowed down and pulled off onto a side street.

  “Where are you taking me?” Her breath was hot on my ear, her voice raspy.

  I inhaled deeply, taking a moment to return my focus.

  “Where do you live?” I asked. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Oh, I don’t live in Fairview,” she said.

  Then why was she here? Why was she in that bar? There had to be a reason, and something told me that reason mattered.

  “Where are you staying?” I asked.

  “Down by the river,” she said. “The Grand Marina.”

  What were the chances?

  I revved my bike and drove toward the water. The Grand Marina was four blocks down and three over. I knew because that’s where I was staying, too.

  I pulled into the circle by the door. The valet looked at us as if he was considering offering to park for me. The glare I offered in reply to his unspoken question was enough to make him take a step back.