by Susan Arden
“Does that mean you’re happy or not?” she inquired.
“How in God’s name did you get an education from Duke and end up living in the swamps of Louisiana? Unmarried. Unmated. Unclaimed. Fuck me flying, I can’t even begin to figure out where the hell your life derailed, Shannon Marie Barclay!”
“Technically I’m not unmated. If I were, you wouldn’t be a raging bull.”
She shook her head and wanted to laugh. At that second Drake glanced over and their gazes locked. Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she flashed him a peace sign. No wonder he’d wanted to escape and never show his face around Denver again. For all her brother’s worldly ways, he was a born-again provincial ogre. No way she wanted to relive the nightmare of driving away from Denver in a used car she’d managed by the skin of teeth to finagle after her parents had shut down her trust fund. Not that she’d wanted a penny. Now she was glad she was making it on her own. Of course in the Barclay world, her living above a bar in a storage area wasn’t caviar dreams and champagne wishes.
“Don’t act belligerent. Not with me. Either you’re claimed or unclaimed. Which is it?”
“Un,” she huffed as a clogging sensation rose in her throat and tears filled her eyes. She closed her lids rather than let go projectile tears.
“Shit. I knew something was up with you and I should have acted sooner. I’m going to kill Drake when I see him. As a matter of fact, I’m considering coming to you. Where the fuck are you?”
That did it! She flashed open her eyes. “Oh yeah. That’s a plan. Take off and what? You’re going to fly down here? How many private jets do you own? Or are you going to borrow one from Necrodemas? Heard you were getting cozy with him on the board of the council.”
Drake motioned to her with a chopping sign in front of his throat. The universal shut-the-fuck-up hand signal for anyone with an iota of common sense. She, on the other hand, couldn’t get hold of her runaway mouth. She’d kept silent for months—years really. She should have spoken up in Lisbon and laid out her refusal to be a political pawn, and maybe her narrow-minded, old-fashioned family would have listened and not gotten involved with that dumbbell Dimitri.
She grimaced and shook her head, watching Drake’s eyebrows shoot upward. He must have inhaled deeply since his shoulders rose and fell before he walked to her side of the car. She watched him rather than focus on actually speaking, so she had time to mash the button on the armrest and lock the doors.
“Shay,” he said, knocking his knuckle on the window. “Open the door before you say something you’ll be sorry for.”
Oh God. She wanted to laugh so freaking hard. And it was so inappropriate. Like succumbing to a fit of uncontrollable laughter at a funeral. She clapped her hand over her mouth. Didn’t help. She snorted and tears sprang into her eyes. Hot, fat, sloppy tears that refused to stay put behind her eyelids as she scrunched her eyes closed.
Shawn hollered, “Shay. I can get a plane ticket and be there by tonight. Or I can drive and be there by the morning. Where are you?”
First one snort, then another until rippling laughter broke free from within her, and she couldn’t hold back. “Ha-ha-ha—”
Not to be deterred, Drake walked around the car and tore the door from the passenger side, quickly setting it down, and leaned inside. “Give me that before you hurt yourself!”
“Excuse me. That’s my door. Thank you not very much.” She hiccuped and watched him lift her cell from her fingers and rub his knuckle along her jaw.
Drake switched on the speaker. “Shawn, I take it Shay told you we’re expecting. If you’re going to upset her, I damn well won’t bring her back to Denver. I’ll take her to Herensuge Castle for the rest of her pregnancy. And you, your father, and Amelia will be on your own. But mark my words, no one is going to make Shay feel less than perfect carrying my children. So wish her the best and help me help her.”
“Drake, this is a torrential screw up!” Shawn yelled loud enough for the whole Mony parking lot to hear if anyone else had been around. Solomon and Trish—thank God—had gone inside.
“Yeah. Shit happens, dude. I got years on you. Don’t make the mistake of thinking the last time I let you take out your frustration was the best I had. I didn’t raise a finger against you out of respect. There won’t be a next time if it involves another word against Shay.”
She bit her lip when Drake finished and he smiled. For a beat, she forgot about Shawn’s tirade until he spoke up again. “Ah hell, you both deserve each other,” her brother replied and Drake held the phone outward so she could hear as well. “Put my sister back on.”
“You’re a good man, Barclay,” Drake held out her cell. “Obviously, your brother has something to say. Can you handle it from here?”
CHAPTER 9
As Drake reached for a beer mug, she held court a few seats away as she explained, “Simmer the heck down. Damien, I was going to tell you when the time was right but I just knew you’d react like this!”
From the other side of the bar, she watched Drake pour a microbrew for Damien, following her strict instructions on how to pour a beer—not too much foam. Don’t slop it. Make eye contact and smile. Damn, these shifters would be lucky if he gave them the time of day—except she’d wheedled a promise from him that he’d behave. For her, he’d suck it in and play bartender. She hoped.
Damien threw up his hands. “For shit’s sake, Shay! All this time.” The beta wolf picked up a blanket and then set it down like it was about to bust apart.
“Not exactly. At first, I didn’t know for sure and then, it got away from me. So there.”
“Baby, can we move this blanket?” Drake asked. “Or are you going to have everyone who knows you react the same way?”
“How do you mean?”
“Seeing you and a baby blanket is pretty no frills in letting them in on our secret. Why not tell people little by little? Give them a chance to accept the idea that you’re—”
“Knocked up?” she interrupted just to get a rise out of Damien.
“Christ!” Damien screeched, and tufts along the side of his face erupted. “You’re not—what you said. I can’t believe I watched you lift and haul barrels and boxes night after flipping night. You could have said something sooner.”
“Like what?” Shay asked, cocking her head.
“Oh, maybe you were expecting,” Mara supplied, slipping on to one of the barstools. “I just knew it.”
“Did you also know we’re having twins?” Shay asked, clapping her hands and delighted to finally let the cat, or rather dragons, out of the bag. She glanced over to Drake and winked. “Chablis. No more than two glasses for this one. Mara Feinstein, Drake O’Connor. My … friend.”
A deep rumbled snort of dissatisfaction shot out of his mouth. “Watch it, kitten.” He held out his hand. “Pleasure, Mara.”
“Likewise, Drake. I can’t tell you how nice it is to meet you. Kinda fills in a lot of blanks.”
“Drake.” Shay tapped his arm. “Mara is the one who helped me learn to act sane again when I arrived and didn’t know which way was up. She’s a wonderful behavior coach. Maybe she can help you with your possessive side.”
“Thanks, doll, but with you, I do believe your man is gonna need every trick in the book.” Mara patted her arm. “Let’s talk names?”
Shay shook her head. Drake hadn’t even asked that question. As he uncorked the wine bottle, he flashed Shay a glance and their gazes snapped together. She shrugged a shoulder. “Haven’t gotten that far. This is monumental, just sharing the news.”
Solomon lumbered in carrying a barrel from the back of the bar. “It’s not only monumental. It’s a travesty. I’m with Damien. All this time and you carried these barrels back and forth. I’ve effectively paid my way well into hell. Thanks a lot.”
“You didn’t know. And besides, I can out-press you any day of the week, Sol. Just because I’m expecting doesn’t mean I’m frail. Seriously, it’s the opposite. Tell him, Drake.”
“Drake O’Connor Herensuge, stand up for me!”
“I’m taking the fifth on that one.” He held up his palms. “Don’t even start with batting your eyes at me, little girl.”
The front door to the bar swung open and a frantic looking shifter ambled inside, making a beeline to Solomon. “Keegan sent me with some news. He said you’d know what to do.”
“Get hold of yourself. What’s the message, Roger?” Solomon clapped the guy on the shoulder.
“Kee and Carl found two scouts not from around here. Said they’ve been lurking about but so far haven’t done anything but stay put. Nothing unusual. Then tonight a whole mess of leather wearing riders rolled in from the south. Wolves on all new bikes, like they robbed a showroom. Leastways that’s what Kee suspected.”
“Oh really. Keegan thinks they’re cycle thieves.”
“Not that they are—just ya know … they’re outlaws.”
“Hold on. I’m not following the problem.” Solomon and everyone at the bar watched the slender man.
“They’re for real. Black vests, tats, and patches, but so are their Harleys. And every last one is brand spanking new.”
“Well dammit, Roger. Maybe it’s a cycle club, this is their vacation, and they’re into Harleys.” Solomon grinned and winked at Drake. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone rolled in on a Harley this week.”
• • •
Drake’s focus pricked. It would be easy to trace and find out exactly who the hell these “outlaws” were. But since this wasn’t his gig and no one asked for his help, he’d have to investigate the riders covertly. Last thing he needed to do was step on the toes of the people who’d helped Shay. He nodded to a woman at the end of the bar.
“What’ll you have?” he asked, half-listening to the other conversation in back of him.
“Bud Light,” she said and pushed some bills across the bar counter. “You Shay’s guy?”
“Affirmative. Drake O’Connor.” He nodded just as Shay leaned over and laughed.
“He’s mine. Disagreeable but I’ll take him.”
“You’d better. Since he’s yours … he’s hands off.” Ignoring the jibe, he set her beer down and the woman smiled. “I’m Keira. Nice to meet you, Drake.”
“See,” Shay whispered. “Everyone adores you.”
“I’m concerned with only one person,” he replied. “What’s going on with the bikers?”
“Don’t know. Everyone takes a turn on the neighborhood watch. But Kee and Carl are militant. They were in the marines.”
“They sure as hell act like jarheads.” He turned his attention back to Solomon.
Roger slapped his hand on the bar in protest to something the owner had said and Drake had missed. “It’s not like that. Kee and Carl got suspicious after what they’ve seen so far. They pulled one of their invisible acts and are hanging out over there, listening in on what those hounds are up to. Seems like they’re looking for trouble with humans.”
Solomon shook his head. “Crap. Wouldn’t be the first motorcycle club wanting to feel badass. Who better to pick on than humans, ’cept they’re in the wrong place. We ain’t got but a few and they’re married to shifters. Loyal to us all. I better make some phone calls and send out an alert.”
“Maybe we should we call the state troopers,” Damien suggested.
“And what, have them come arrest us all?” Solomon shot back. “You remember the last time we called in a problem to the troopers. Unless we got a real honest-to-goodness situation—and I’m talking life or death—I veto it. We could all get hauled away and those who can’t make like a banana and split will have hell to pay.”
For the smaller shifters and those who were aged, escaping from humans by shifting into primal form was problematic. Arthritic joints, whether human or animal, still sucked and made it difficult to walk—forget running or flying.
“When was the last time a crisis—or rather a dilemma—like this happened?” Drake asked. Being near the Gulf and New Orleans, they had to have their share of bikers in these parts. Quite a few outlaw clubs roamed down south in the winter, but not the type with spanking new rides. That part didn’t correlate. After his shift, he’d touch base with Noah and find out if there was any information about a gang of … hell what could they be classified as except hipster bikers? Shit, he needed to lay eyes on them, but couldn’t until his shift ended. “How did they dress?”
“All black,” Roger replied. “Ya know, like regular bikers.”
“Hard to distinguish nowadays,” Damien said.
“And that’s why us sounding the siren might get us all in a heap of trouble with the troopers. Shifters don’t cause problems in Harmony. It’s why this place exists. If them guys are still here tomorrow, we’ll round up our watch group and take a ride over. Won’t be the first time we’ve had to explain how things work here. Don’t suspect they’re looking to broker a mess of conflict any more than we are.”
There was truth in what Solomon said. And there was always the possibility of warrants being issued. He reached out and rubbed his hand over Shay’s arm, wanting to feel her skin under his.
“Turn the frown upside down, mister,” she said.
“Baby,” he grunted. She flinched and he felt the whole bar around them fade. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She smiled, pressing her hand behind her hip. “Just my back. It’s not easy sitting on a barstool for an hour.”
“Try an hour or two,” Mara said.
“Hasn’t he asked you out yet?” Shay bumped her shoulder against the woman’s next to her while still squeezing his fingers.
“If he had, we wouldn’t be sitting here. Let me tell you,” Mara muttered loud enough for Drake to pick up. He glanced over to the wolf shifter in question, and yep—the dude was clueless. He let go of Shay’s fingers and went to work, pouring a glass of Chablis and then a shot of Jack.
“From a secret admirer,” he said, sliding the glass of wine in front of Mara.
“Seriously?” Her owl eyes went plate-sized and Shay snickered.
Drake shrugged. “Hey, I’m doing what I was told.”
“You’re pulling my leg,” Mara said.
“Hush.” Shay picked up the glass and pushed it into her friend’s hand. “Drink up. And smile. Isn’t that what you always told me?”
“Funny,” Mara replied.
He refilled two empty beer mugs from another customer, then walked over to Damien and set the shot down next to his half-full beer mug.
“What’s this?” Damien asked.
“From an anonymous fan.” He winked. There weren’t many people inside the bar, but considering it was a Tuesday night, the place kept him busy and would keep the beta wolf guessing. “Drink up,” he said, drumming his fingers on the smooth oak surface of the bar.
He turned and met Shay’s sparkling stare. She wore a secretive smile and crooked her finger at him. He leaned over the bar and brushed his chin up against her cheek. “Play matchmaker much?” she asked.
“That depends. Are you pleased?”
He heard her draw in a small gasp of air and then exhale. “Yes.”
Suddenly, he felt her stiffen and her face went cool against his. Way too cool and he held her by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“Noooothing. It’s just growing pains. Happens all the time,” she said. Which would have been just dandy except her lower lip quivered. He didn’t like seeing her in pain. Not one bit.
“You need to rest. Lie down.” He looked around. “I’ll take you back to your apartment.”
Today when they’d gone house hunting and she refuted several acceptable choices, he’d acquiesced instead of demanding that she move to a suitable home. In short order, she’d have him wrapped around her little finger if he caved to her every whim. “I’m not joking. If I have to carr
y you up there, we’re going.” He began to unknot the ties of his apron.
Shay shook her head. “No. You’re covering my shift. You can’t ditch Mony because I’m having cramps. Absolutely not. Otherwise, I won’t leave.”
“Lord have mercy on me, woman!”
“Do you need to leave?” Damien asked.
“No!” Shay semi-shouted.
“For a minute or two,” Drake replied. “No buts.”
“I’m on it.” Damien was already out of his seat, shouting over to Solomon, “I’m just covering. Shay’s not feeling well.”
“What the dickens? Should I call Trish?” Sol bellowed.
“Do you see what you’ve done?” Shay muttered.
He clapped Damien on the back. “I owe you.”
“Naw. I enjoy helping out and she never lets anyone. Glad to see someone finally has got her to … bend a little. It’s been a chore these last few months.”
“What does that mean?” Shay snapped.
“Everybody walks a line around here. Not that it’s a bad thing,” Damien retorted.
“We have fun. Don’t we have fun, Mara?”
“Sure, hun. When you get off and go home.”
Shay picked up the baby blanket and stashed it in the bag. “I can’t believe you guys. Someone has to keep order over you roughnecks.”
“Here.” Drake scooped up a skein of thread that had fallen onto the barstool. “Is this yours? Might be mine.”
“Hardy, har har. I’ll take that thank you very much.”
He looked up and met Solomon’s stare and nod, which he returned. “Be right back,” he said over his shoulder to Damien.
“Nothing is going on tonight so take your time,” Damien returned, grabbing some peanuts out of the bowl and tossing one up into the air and catching it in his mouth.
He held the door for Shay and breathed in her fragrance as she walked in front of him. The soft sway of her hips mesmerized him for a beat, then he blinked at the darkness surrounding them and realized almost in shock that it was evening. “It’s like a time warp inside the bar. Didn’t think it would be dark already,” he said, wanting to go up to her apartment and just hold her. But damn, he had to do the chivalrous thing and contend with three more hours of a bartending gig. Another item on his fast-growing list of what he needed to rectify. He kicked a rock and watched it fly across the parking lot, barely missing one customer’s car.
