Layla Nash - A Valentine's Chase (City Shifters: the Pride)

by Unknown

  I took a deep breath. "His name was Rafe. Tall guy, broad shoulders, dark hair."

  Smith nodded, looking thoughtful, and leaned back in the chair. "So why didn't you give him your number, dear? He seems redeemable, if he helped you back to your car after you called him names."

  "I know," I said, and stifled a groan. "I know. He was nice. But I was still mad from having to get my own drink and him not talking and just the look on his face... It was awful, Smith. Really. And then my ankle hurt so much I couldn't think straight. I just needed to get out of there. I couldn't think with him standing right there."

  With those beautiful eyes and the stubble on his jaw and the easy strength of his arms around me... I shook away the thought and looked at Smith mournfully. "It doesn't matter now anyway. He's gone."

  Smith leaned forward to squeeze my hand. "Well, my dear, if he didn't see all the wonderful things about you that I do, he doesn't deserve you anyway."

  "Thanks." I pushed up on my elbows to squint at my ankle, and as the room started to spin, I figured the pain medication finally kicked in. "Thank you for waiting with me. I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important?"

  "Certainly not. There's nothing more pressing than helping family."

  My eyes closed as the painkillers turned everything warm and dim and slow, and I exhaled. Finally, my ankle no longer felt like it would explode and send bone shrapnel everywhere. I barely knew I had an ankle at all. "I'm glad you're here, Uncle Smith."

  "I'm glad to be here." I drifted through a narcotic fog and almost missed his question, posed so casually it didn't seem important at all. "If I happened to know someone who might match this gentleman's description, would you like to meet him? See if he's the one you went on the date with?"

  "Sure, why not? It couldn't go any worse than the first time we met." I snorted to myself, trying to figure out a way for a second date with Rafe to go worse than the first, and missed whatever it was he said into his phone as it started ringing again.

  Chapter 5

  Rafe scowled all day. He even yelled at Ruby, who gave him a look that nearly stopped his heart and exiled him to the basement to count the liquor bottles. He felt like an idiot. The matchmaker called to ask how the date went and he said the girl hadn't shown up. Which was true. He didn't need to tell Paula anything about Meadow. He wanted to keep her for himself.

  Except she didn't want to see him again. Obviously.

  Rafe growled and hauled another crate of beer bottles up the stairs to fill the storeroom behind the office. Sometimes manual labor helped take the edge off, but not when the wolf knew they'd found their mate and then just let her drive away. He could search the city for weeks, for months, maybe years — and he might not find her. What if he never saw her again? He wouldn't ask the matchmaker but maybe Smith would know. The private investigator who worked with Edgar Chase and the rest of the lions would be able to find anyone, particularly if that person wasn't entirely human. That flash of silver in Meadow's eyes betrayed she might be something paranormal, maybe fae like Smith. He could ask, if he ever swallowed his pride, or risk her disappearing forever.

  He shook his head. Nope. Not possible. He had to find her. At least to take her on a single, good date. If she still didn't want anything to do with him after that, then he would figure out a way to live without her. His soul would never recover, but he had to respect her wishes. Love couldn't be forced.

  The place slowly filled on a Friday night as Rafe worked behind the bar, pulling pints and cracking open bottles and mixing cocktails. Most of their pack settled in around the pool table, arguing and eating and making more noise than they should have. A glare from Rafe lowered the volume significantly, and Ruby appeared at his elbow. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

  "Nothing." Rafe threw a beer bottle into the recycle barrel and it shattered. "I'm just great."

  Carter, her mate and a lion shifter, eyed Rafe askance and leaned his elbows on the bar. He looked like he was about to say something profound, probably something straight from some zen Buddhist text, but instead only shook his head. "Leave the man alone, Ruby Leigh."

  Her eyes narrowed as she glared at her mate. "He's my brother, I can mess with him if I want. And I will, because he's being a baby about something. I can't stand it when he pouts."

  "I'm not pouting." Rafe growled as one of their rowdier wolves started juggling pool balls, and clenched his fists behind the bar. "I had a bad night. I don't want to talk about it."

  When Ruby opened her mouth, lip ring winking in the light, Carter caught her wrist and squeezed. Rafe reminded himself to thank the man later, then fought back irritation as he turned back to the storeroom. It was thanks enough that Rafe put up with his sister and Carter fucking like rabbits every chance they got. They were a lot louder than they thought they were. He needed new batteries for his noise-canceling headphones. Or his own apartment.

  By the time he returned from the storeroom with another case of beer, both Ruby and Carter were over by the pool table. Rafe frowned as he shoved the bottles into the ice chest, then glanced up as the bell over the door rang and a ripple ran through the bar. And speak of the devil. Smith himself, as if summoned by Rafe's thoughts, slid through the door and scanned the occupants. A hint of a smile touched his expression when he noticed everyone eyeing him dubiously, then he strode over to the bar.

  Rafe scowled at his pack, and they went back to loud-talking until the handful of humans in the bar followed suit. The few humans who wandered into the bar every week seldom returned, and as Rafe watched half of the ones currently occupying his tables gesture for the bill, he wasn't entirely sorry. Humans died too easily around pack, injured when fights broke out or caught up in macho posturing that turned serious too fast. There had been enough trouble between the packs in the last few months to justify making O'Shea's a pack-only bar. The last thing he needed were the cops all over his business because a human got injured or disappeared.

  Smith eased onto a stool at the bar and rapped his knuckles on the bar. "Rafe O'Shea, how are you?"

  "I'm good, Smith, thanks. What can I get you?"

  "A Guinness, of course." The investigator, tall and lanky in an unremarkable sweater, glanced around the bar. "Busy in here tonight. Is there a table where I might bring a friend of mine?"

  Rafe slid the pint glass across the bar, waving away the cash Smith offered. "On the house for friends of the family. How's over here?" He gestured at a high-top table at the other end of the bar, occupied by a stack of coasters, bar towels, and a few empty baskets for the peanuts he'd forgotten to get from the storeroom. He cleaned off the table, wiped it down, and made a mental note to get the snacks out. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back."

  He headed for the storeroom, snapping orders for one of the younger wolves to start working the bar, and scanned the shelves for the sealed bags of peanuts. They'd had three the night before, and only half a bag remained. He blamed the insatiable appetites of the wolves. Rafe filled the baskets and made a mental note to leave them on the bar only, so he could keep an eye on who partook. He paused near the office, not yet in the bar, as an almost familiar scent drifted past his nose. It couldn't be.

  Rafe froze in the doorway by the bar, eyes locked across the room where Smith helped Meadow sit and prop her foot up, a pair of crutches leaning against the wall. His heart jumped to his throat and he couldn't breathe. Not just because he was amazed and grateful to see her again, but because she knew Smith. Knew him well enough to hang out with him at a bar. Rafe almost dropped the peanuts as he watched her and lost all feeling in his hands.

  She smiled at something Smith said and scanned the bar, touching her hair and pulling at her shirt and fidgeting. He wondered what made her uncomfortable. And then she adjusted where her leg balanced on another chair and winced, and his heart sank. A bright green cast covered her foot and most of her calf.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  Rafe jumped as Ruby spoke, standing near his e
lbow, and he cleared his throat. "Getting the peanuts."

  "Uh huh." Her eyes narrowed as she followed his gaze to where Smith sat, and Ruby glanced at her brother once more. "Is that pretty pinup girl over there the reason you're being such a dick tonight?"

  "No." Rafe heard the defensiveness in his tone and wanted to smack his forehead, even more so when Ruby started grinning. She heard it too. She knew him too well. Sometimes having a twin was more a pain in the ass than a benefit. "Fuck off, Ruby."

  "Come on, brother." She hooked her arm through his and dragged him back a few feet into the office, kicking the door shut after she pushed him into the chair behind the desk. "Start talking."

  He didn't want to. He really didn't want to. Rafe rubbed his eyes, sighing. But Ruby had a one-track mind and she wouldn't leave him alone until he talked. Or worse — she'd march out there and ask Meadow directly. God only knew what would happen then. He took a deep breath. "First, give me your word you won't interfere."

  She snorted, arms folded over her chest. "And I think we both know that won't matter."

  "Ruby Leigh O'Shea, do not test me right now."

  Her eyes narrowed when she heard the growl in his voice, and Ruby sank into the ratty, falling-apart chair next to the door. "Okay, Rafe. I won't interfere. Now tell me what the hell is going on."

  "I went on a date last night."

  His sister's expression immediately lit up and she practically launched out of the chair, but she froze when Rafe held up his hands. "She didn't show up. The girl I was supposed to meet, I mean. Her roommate showed up instead, because she didn't want me to wait alone. The girl out there with Smith is the roommate."

  Ruby's head tilted as she watched him. "You like the roommate better, don't you?"

  "I do. I think she's..." He shook his head, unwilling to say it aloud, despite that it was Ruby sitting across from him and they told each other everything. Well, almost everything. Rafe didn't want to know anything about Carter, and had sworn Ruby to take all of that to her grave without ever whispering a hint of it in his presence. But he didn't know if he could just announce that Meadow was his mate.

  "She's your mate," Ruby said, with more conviction than even Rafe possessed. "Obviously."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "You've been a basket-case since you came back last night," she said. "You're grouchy and mean, and the second she walked through the door, you looked like you couldn't breathe. It's obvious."

  "It might be obvious to you, but it's not to her. She's human. At least, I think she's human." That flash of silver in her eyes the night before, when she'd reached the end of her patience with him, still bugged Rafe. He shook his head, took a handful of peanuts from the bag, and started cracking them open over the trashcan. "And we didn't get off on the right foot."

  "Also obvious," Ruby said under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Since she's in a cast. Was that your fault?"

  "No." Rafe concentrated on the peanuts as he gave Ruby the highlights — well, the lowlights — from the disastrous first meeting with Meadow, and he wanted to storm out at the sheer glee on his sister's face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been rejected so completely. And Ruby wouldn't let him forget it for years, if ever.

  Ruby pushed to her feet, still chuckling. "Well, you've been hiding back here long enough. Get your ass in gear, and go out there and talk to her. Be charming. I know you've got it in you somewhere."

  "Some days I really hate you, Ruby," he said under his breath, but rose slowly and dusted the peanut shells off his hands. "I can handle this, Ruby. For real. Don't get involved."

  "I won't." She smiled but he didn't believe her for a second. "At least until you fuck it up and need help convincing the girl to give you another shot."

  He snorted, yanking on her ponytail like he did when they were kids, and hauled the door open so he could find his courage behind the bar. And abruptly stopped short. Meadow, balanced precariously on her crutches, wobbled past the office toward the bathrooms. His wolf wanted to rush out, pick her up, and carry her where she needed to go, but instead he ducked behind the door so Meadow only saw Ruby when she looked over.

  And Rafe cursed himself and his sister up and down as Ruby sang out, "Well, look at you, honey. Need a hand?"

  "Y-yes," Meadow said, sounding taken aback, and Rafe held his breath.

  He waited until they'd moved down the hall and the door to the bathroom opened before he peeked out of the office. Just in time to catch Meadow's eye as she looked back down the hall. He stood frozen, mouth open to speak, as Meadow stared at him. Then Ruby said something and the door swung shut, and the spell broke.

  Rafe ground the heels of his hands against his eyes and aimed a kick at the ratty chair in the office, wanting to throw something or rip the door off its hinges. Great. For the second time, he'd looked like a complete fucking idiot in front of Meadow. He struggled for control as he strode into the bar and took one of the bottles of bourbon down from the very top shelf. He poured himself a shot, took it, then another. By the third shot, Smith raised his eyebrows and tapped the bar near Rafe's shaking hand. "Something wrong?"

  Rafe cleared his throat against the smooth burn of the liquor, and put the bottle away. He gestured for the other bartender to retreat to the far side of the bar, and leaned his elbows against the battered wood near where Smith sat. "Okay. Help me out, Smith. Why did you bring her here?"

  The older man smiled with oddly pointed teeth, though they faded quickly back to normal. "I took Meadow to the hospital to have her foot set, and while we were there, she explained how it happened. How a young man insulted her but then helped her to her car. When she described that man, she described you."

  Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose. "I didn't mean to —"

  "I do not normally involve myself in the personal affairs of others," Smith said, slow and even and calm, though Rafe's hair stood on end and the wolf took notice. Something about the old man made the wolf very, very nervous. But the investigator went on, unconcerned. "But Meadow is a dear friend. Like a niece to me. She is the closest thing I will ever have to family, Rafe. She is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, as I'm sure she made clear to you yesterday."

  "Yes," Rafe said, distracted by the memory of her pressed against his side and the dire consequences she threatened. "Air horn, mace, and a taser, if I remember correctly."

  "Indeed. The mace is quite... extraordinary." Another hint of a smile, and Rafe had no doubts that whatever got hit with the mace would never forget it. If it survived. His guts went cold as Smith's eyes grew eerie and icy, the pupils elongating vertically.

  "But I will tell you something important, Rafael Edward O'Shea. She knows nothing about this side of the city, nothing about shifters, nothing about the conflicts we are both embroiled in. If you hurt her — if your association with her causes her to come to harm, if you make her sad or angry or afraid, you will also make a very powerful enemy. Do you understand?"

  Rafe's mouth went completely dry. He couldn't look away from Smith's crazy silver eyes and the depthless black pupils. "Yes."

  The older man's voice dropped lower and a loud rushing wind nearly stole the sound away completely. "I will grind your bones to make my bread, and there is not a pack in this world that could save you from my wrath."

  The wolf started to growl, uncertain, and for a moment, the room flickered around them and Rafe wondered if Smith somehow teleported them away to some place more dangerous. But the familiar bar felt warm and solid under his hands as he tried to straighten, and Rafe cleared his throat. "I get it, Smith. She's my mate. I would never risk her safety. Ever."

  The room grew dark around the edges as Smith's expression creased and his eyes narrowed. "Your mate?"

  Shit. Rafe wanted to hold his breath but there wasn't any air left in the room for him to gulp, and his fingers went cold as ice rimed the bar and the table and everything Rafe could see. He struggled to form words, a denial or a threat or a command t
o his wolves, but nothing came out.

  Chapter 6

  I'd never been into that particular bar before, mostly because it looked like a dive and Olga didn't hang out in dives, but when Uncle Smith suggested getting a bite to eat after we left the emergency room, I didn't mind. Whatever kind of pain medication they gave me sure helped me not give a shit as I hobbled in on crutches and everyone stared, but I brushed it off. They stared at Smith, too, and it didn't seem to bother him. So I propped my foot up on an extra chair, wincing as the heavy cast nearly threw my back out, and ordered some sort of appetizer, covered in cheese and bacon.

  I surveyed the bar, intrigued. It seemed like a cool place to hang out, with a pool table, a lot of younger people at the far end of the bar, and some couples eating dinner at tables near the door. I sipped a soda, not willing to mix a beer with the magical painkillers they gave me for fear that would mess with my memory, and studied Smith. "How did you find this place?"

  "I know the owners," he said, glancing down as his phone rang. He silenced it and folded his hands on the table. "I'll introduce you. How is your leg feeling?"

  "I almost forgot I have one," I said, laughing. "I'm sure it will wear off, but for now, I'm good. Well, almost good. I need to excuse myself for a moment," and I tilted my head at where a battered sign pointed at the bathrooms.

  Smith got up immediately to help me, handing over the crutches and steadying me as vertigo rolled through me and I wobbled. I smiled and leaned to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, Uncle Smith."

  "You're most welcome. Take your time, my dear." He picked up his phone and started catching up on business, and once again a wiggle of guilt struck me, that I'd taken him away from his business for an entire day. And he'd already gotten me crutches and helped pick up a handful of prescriptions and even some groceries, chilling in the trunk of his car.