BodyGuard (Butterscotch Martini Shots Book 2)

by Jennifer Ashley

  The thin white man standing in front of him was one of the best smugglers in the business. But though the man knew how to move product, he needed someone on the street to sell it for him, and some of his Hill Country contacts had moved elsewhere. With banditry south of the border increasing, and enthusiastic vigilante border patrols keeping watch north of it, moving anything between the U.S. and Mexico, in either direction, was risky and expensive. But Pablo had the resources and connections, this man had the expertise, and they’d make beautiful money together. Pablo was going to land this.

  Or so he thought, until his lieutenant’s cell phone quietly rang and the man stepped into a corner to answer it. The lieutenant returned and whispered into Pablo’s ear.

  Pablo stopped. Julio. Son of a . . .

  “Problem?” the smuggler said. He had a reedy voice but quiet strength behind it.

  “No,” Pablo said in a reassuring tone. “At least not for you.” He gave him a wry look. “Family.”

  “Ah. I understand.” The man’s light blue gaze didn’t waver. “Why don’t you take care of that? I’ll be back to talk later.”

  Which meant Pablo would probably never see him again. The smuggler wouldn’t like any indication that Pablo’s operation was the least bit unstable, which could equal said smuggler not getting paid. Even an unruly little brother could upset a touchy shipment. Shit.

  But Pablo couldn’t sit here and beg like a little girl for the man not to go. He nodded, pretending everything was cool. “Sure. You have my number. You let me know.”

  The man nodded. He held out a hand, and Pablo, his wrist still in a bandage, shook it.

  The smuggler walked away, his thugs closing around him, and Pablo knew that was the last he’d see of him. He turned to his lieutenant. “Damn that little shit. Where did he take him? Where are they?”

  Ronan stripped off next to the middle ring half an hour later, but there was no sign of his opponent. Elizabeth held his clothes, hiding her nervousness. She was good at that, when she needed to be. Her courage made him warm with pride. Ronan’s lips were a bit raw from kissing her outside, but he didn’t mind. He hoped he’d have a chance to make them rawer later.

  When the crowd parted to let through a large male Shifter, surrounded by Julio’s bodyguards, Spike said behind Ronan, “Aw, crap.”

  “What?” Elizabeth asked. “What’s wrong with him?”

  So many things. First, the Shifter wasn’t wearing a Collar. Second, the bodyguards weren’t protecting the Shifter—they were keeping him penned so he wouldn’t start fighting everyone he laid his bloodshot eyes on. Third, the man stank like holy hell.

  “He’s a feral,” Ronan said.

  “Feral?” Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, feral?”

  Spike answered. “It means his animal side is close to taking over.” He wrinkled his once-broken nose. “The first thing to go is bathing.”

  “His animal side?” Elizabeth asked. “Because he’s not wearing a Collar?”

  “Anyone can go feral, with or without a Collar,” Ronan said. “But it’s harder with a Collar, because it tends to shock sense into you.”

  “We lived for centuries without Collars,” Sean said, sounding grim. “And we never needed them to keep us tame. Seems nowadays, though, that most of the Shifters who refused to take the Collar are feral or heading that way.”

  “Great,” Elizabeth said. “So not only is he feral, but he’s angry because other Shifters let themselves be Collared?”

  “She’s got it,” Spike said.

  “Ronan, you can’t fight him,” Elizabeth said quickly. “Without a Collar, he has all the advantage.”

  “Too late,” Ronan said. He touched her face and gave her one last, firm kiss. “I’ve fought ferals before, Lizzie. I can do this. This is my job.”

  Elizabeth looked up at him, eyes luminous, but she closed her mouth and nodded. Her expression told him, however, that she’d prefer to knock him on the head and drag him back home, and would have if she’d been able.

  Shifter fights had few rules, Spike had said. Shifters could fight in whatever form they wanted, and shift back and forth during the fight if they felt like it. The only hard and fast rules were: no weapons of any kind—they couldn’t hold anything at all, in fact; the fighters had to stay within the circle; and they had to fight, without rounds, until the refs decided that one Shifter was down so far it would be life-threatening for him to continue. The one who wasn’t half-dead was declared the winner.

  Ronan didn’t recognize four of the five Shifters who stepped in to referee, but he rarely went to the other Shiftertowns in the area. He’d bet that Julio had instructed these refs to let the fight carry on past the point of no return.

  Julio’s bodyguards fell back, and the feral stepped into the ring. He rose to his full human height and fixed his red eyes on Ronan before he shifted.

  The feral changed smoothly, almost effortlessly, and landed on all fours as a large Alaskan gray wolf.

  The thing was huge. Ronan had met wolf Shifters in his area of Alaska, but he and the wolves had given each other a respectful distance. This wolf had lost respect for everything a long time ago.

  Spike was spouting advice. “You can do this, Ronan. Don’t try to take him down quickly—he’s got the advantage of speed at the first, but you have the advantage of stamina. He’ll wear down a long time before you will. Then you’ve got him.”

  Ronan nodded, but he had his own ideas. He stepped into the ring, staying human, and nodded to the refs that he was ready.

  “What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked behind him. “Why don’t you shift?”

  “You can’t talk to him once he’s in the ring,” he heard Spike say in the relative hush. “But you can yell for him all you want.”

  The quiet lasted another few seconds, then Elizabeth’s shout sounded loud and clear.

  “Kick his ass, Ronan!”

  The crowd burst into sudden cacophony. Half the Shifters and groupies around them were taking the feral’s side, or at least betting on him, but plenty shouted for Ronan. He was popular in the Austin Shiftertown.

  Elizabeth’s voice gave Ronan strength. She was the mate of his heart, and once he disposed of this effing feral and got rid of the rest of her problems, he would make her understand that.

  Meanwhile, he stood, in his human form, and waited to see what the feral wolf would do.

  The Lupine circled him, growling, hackles raised. Ronan turned with him, keeping his face to the wolf’s.

  The Lupine would try to goad Ronan into attacking first. But Ronan’s Collar wouldn’t go off as quickly if Ronan remained on the defensive. With any luck, Ronan could take down the Lupine before the Collar emitted more than a couple of sparks.

  Not gonna happen, something inside him said. This was going to be a nasty, brutal fight, and Julio had known it would be.

  He was aware of Sean, behind him, fading into the crowd. He and the rest of the trackers were here to keep tabs on Julio and find Casey, who must be around somewhere. Dylan being here wasn’t a coincidence. Sean had not been surprised to find Dylan at the fights, but to find him actually fighting.

  Ronan had planned to use the fight to distract Julio, but Julio was using the fight to distract Ronan. Ronan had to trust his friends now to take care of the periphery for him while he concentrated on the matter at hand.

  Killing the feral.

  Meanwhile, the feral was gearing up to kill Ronan.

  To the death? So be it.

  The Lupine suddenly launched himself straight at Ronan. Ronan opened his big arms and let him come.

  The wolf landed against Ronan’s chest, claws digging into human skin. Ronan endured it for the few seconds it took him to shift.

  The Lupine now found himself inside the grip of a two-ton Kodiak bear.

  The crowd went crazy. Ronan had told Elizabeth that he’d been nervous with all the Shifters watching him when he’d first come to Austin. Now he had to ignore a hu
ndred Shifters surrounding him and shouting for blood. He made himself shut them out and focus on the wolf.

  Ronan’s strength was, well, his strength, and he used it to crush the feral between his huge paws. The Lupine twisted, and faster than Ronan could have guessed he’d be able to, tore himself out of Ronan’s grasp. The Lupine landed on his feet, mouth open as he leapt for Ronan’s throat.

  Ronan roared, paws coming out to stop the leap, but the wolf moved like smoke to close on Ronan and sink his teeth into Ronan’s neck. Ronan shook himself like a dog, but the Lupine held on, his body flopping.

  The crowed shouted, and Elizabeth cried his name. The sound of her voice galvanized him. Ronan grabbed the wolf and yanked him away, feeling his own fur and flesh come away in the Lupine’s teeth.

  The wolf landed on all fours. Ronan rose up on his hind legs, roaring again, fur rising on his ruff, a Kodiak at his most intimidating.

  Ronan came down and charged the wolf. Ronan’s Collar sparked, but his fury didn’t let him feel it. He went for the wolf, who suddenly wasn’t in the spot he’d occupied a second ago.

  The bastard could move. Ronan swung around. The wolf was waiting, but evidently thought Ronan’s bulk would slow him more than it did. Ronan’s blow caught him on the side of the head, even as the wolf danced aside.

  The watchers roared. The noise swelled louder and louder, until Ronan could hear nothing but it and the crackling of his Collar. He ran at the wolf again, who was feinting and snapping. Ronan’s animal was taking over, lust for the kill overcoming all reason, but the human part of him still felt the Collar.

  This is going to hurt like a bitch, was Ronan’s last coherent thought before he charged.

  CHAPTER 15

  Pablo Marquez heard the noise of the fighting long before he reached the barn at the top of the hill, the edgy roar of people in a blood frenzy.

  He and his four bodyguards had had to park at the end of a long line of cars on the dirt road and hike up to the door of the huge barn. A massive number of people and Shifters crowded around one of the rings inside, no other fights going on.

  A large Shifter stepped into his path. Pablo recognized him as one of the Shifters who’d come to the body shop, the black-haired one called Nate. “No weapons,” Nate said. “You gotta leave your guns in your car.”

  Rules of the fight clubs. But the space between Pablo’s shoulder blades was itching, a sign he’d always learned to heed. His instincts had saved his ass more than once. At the moment, they were telling him to keep his gun close at hand. “We’re not going in,” he said to Nate. “Just tell me who’s fighting.”

  “A bear called Ronan, and a feral Lupine. Don’t know his name.”

  Mother of God. What was Julio doing? “Stop the fight. The Lupine’s mine.”

  Nate narrowed his eyes. “Shifters fight by their choice, not for someone else.”

  “Yeah, well, that Shifter’s insane and doesn’t know what he’s doing. My brother’s running him, and he has no right to. The Shifter belongs to me.”

  Nate didn’t move, but Pablo felt the man’s anger like a cold front. “No one owns a Shifter.”

  “My brother thinks he does. Stop the damn fight.”

  “It’s against the rules.”

  “Cristo.” Pablo started to say more, but he sensed, rather than saw, shadows under the trees to the left of the barn. He signaled his guards to follow and noticed, distractedly, that the Shifter faded back inside the barn, out of sight.

  “Julio,” Pablo said as he approached his younger brother. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  His brother detached himself from a fairly large group of men, some Latino, some white. “Oh, good,” Julio said. “I was hoping you’d come.”

  “Idiota. You cost me the biggest deal I was ever going make in this town. To do what? Run my Shifter and try to get back at that girl? Let it go. If you make me lose the bail money because you do something stupid, I will beat you until you can’t stand.”

  “You’re running scared from Shifters, man,” Julio said, his voice filled with disgust. “You backed down from them. You let them do what they wanted.”

  “I didn’t back down because I was scared, you shit. I’ve learned how to weigh risk with reward. The risks in this case are too great, and I’m not going to get a big reward going up against a bunch of Shifters.”

  “Whatever, man. It’s another way to say you let them walk all over you. I think you aren’t strong enough for this business. So I’m taking it.”

  “Don’t be such a dumb-ass.” Pablo glanced at the white man who had a big, shining Sig in a holster under his jacket. “Who the hell is this?”

  Julio started to speak, but the man forestalled him. “The name’s Casey. Zach Casey. I don’t really give a damn which of you wins this family spat, but Julio says if he wins it, I get my girlfriend back. Thanks for finding her.”

  Pablo looked him up and down in impatience. Another person who couldn’t cut their losses. Elizabeth Chapman, or Rachel Sullivan, whatever you wanted to call her, had left this S.O.B. six years ago. Move on, already.

  Julio had his hand on his holster. “You were the dumb-ass to come out here, bro,” he said to Pablo. “All I had to do was have one of Zach’s crew call you and tell you I was running your feral in the fights, and you came charging out here to stop me. So let’s talk.”

  “Yeah, let’s,” Pablo said. “Somewhere a little more private.”

  “Fine by me.” Julio nodded at one of his crew. “Take his gun.”

  The guy stepped forward. Pablo didn’t move, but he didn’t have to. His own men got in front of him, ready for a fire fight.

  Julio didn’t look as afraid as he should have. “If you come fight for me,” he said to Pablo’s men, “I’ll let you work for me on the same terms as you did for Pablo. If not, I’ll shoot you alongside him. You’re outnumbered. You want to die tonight?”

  Pablo knew full well that most of his crew worked for him for money. There was some friendship, sure; but in the long run, they worked for Pablo because he paid them well. What surprised him was not that two of the men immediately went over to join Julio and Zach, but that two of them stayed.

  Julio finally drew his gun. “All right. Let’s go under the trees.”

  “Wait.” Pablo lifted his hands. “No, you two get out of here,” he said to the men who’d remained with him. “There’s no reason for you to die for me.”

  They hesitated, assessing the situation. “Go on,” Pablo repeated.

  The men in his crew were, in the end, practical. They gave Pablo apologetic nods and walked away toward the cars.

  “I’ll pick them up later,” Julio said, motioning with the gun again. “I can’t believe you’re surrendering to me.”

  Pablo’s brain spun with escape scenarios even as he let one of the men take his gun and started walking where Julio indicated. “You’re my brother. I’m hoping I can talk some sense into you.”

  “Only if you can talk fast on your knees with my bullet in the back of your skull.”

  Ay, Julio, I predict that you’ll regret every one of those words.

  They stepped under the thick trees that grew so well in Texas hill country, the branches blotting out stars, moon, and lights around the big barn. Darkness made for terrific cover, and no one had been smart enough to bring a flashlight.

  Pablo felt something brush past him, sensed a whuff of breath and the warmth of fur. The skin between his shoulder blades prickled again, every instinct telling him to drop and get out of the way.

  He took a few more steps, threw himself flat on the ground, and rolled away through mud. He came to a stop on his back and saw something leap over him, wildcat limbs flowing through the darkness. The thug the wildcat landed on screamed, his weapon discharging, bullets flying. Someone grunted, hit.

  Pablo heard Julio cursing, men shouting. More dark shapes solidified from the trees, sparks igniting in the darkness. Collars. Shifters.

  The
fight was swift and ugly. By the time Pablo scrambled to his feet, all of Julio’s guys and Zach’s were down, many of them unconscious. Julio was screaming, hanging from the arms of the tall Shifter with all the body art. Now that the guy was naked, Pablo saw that he was well and truly inked.

  Julio tried to twist around and shoot Spike, but the Shifter called Dylan materialized from the shadows, took the gun out of Julio’s grasp, and crushed it into scrap metal.

  Pablo brushed off his clothes. His suit was thick with mud, and he’d have a bitch of a dry-cleaning bill. “What the hell?”

  Spike’s teeth flashed in the darkness. “Nate said you looked like you could use a hand,” he said in perfect Spanish. “Or two, or ten.”

  “Thanks.” Pablo said it briskly, because he knew that Shifter help wouldn’t come cheap. He was a long way in their power now. They’d been right about this territory being theirs. Just because no humans realized it didn’t make it untrue.

  “Did you stop the fight?” Pablo asked Dylan.

  Spike answered, switching back to English. “Can’t stop it. Rules.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Pablo said. “That feral’s insane. He’s never lost, and you’ll have to pry him off the other Shifter’s dead body. He has a strong instinct to kill.”

  Dylan dropped the pieces of Julio’s gun onto the grass. “Sean’s on it.” He faded away so noiselessly that Pablo lost sight of him after the man had taken two steps.

  “Pablo.” Julio’s bravado was gone, and now he sounded like he was crying. “Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing—”

  “Save it,” Pablo said. “I felt sorry for you when Mamita died, but now I think I’ve spoiled you rotten. We got a lot to talk about.” He was looking around as he spoke. “Where’s Casey?”

  Not there. Pablo accounted for the fallen, but Zach Casey wasn’t with them. “He’s gone after the woman,” Pablo said in disgust. “Stupid waste of time.”

  “He wants to kill her,” Julio said. “He told me he’d help me if I took him to the girl. He’s going to do her and then kill her.”