Bad Wolf (A Breed MC Book Book 5)

by Anne Marsh

“We were a couple.” I curve my hand around her knee. She’s so warm.

  “A fake couple.” She picks up my hand and sets it back on the table. “In fact, I think it would be better if we didn’t see each other again. You need to stop calling. Texting. Digging up my front yard.”

  “That’s called gardening.” I catch her fingers in mine before she can retreat and rub gently. My wolf whines silently. He’s not convinced this hunt is going well and I have to agree. “Wait until they re-bloom. You’re gonna think I’m a genius. We can fuck and smell the roses at the same time.”

  “We’re not going to be doing that,” she snaps. We are, but I get that she needs to work up to it. We’ve had a fight, she’s pissed at me, but I’m gonna fix that. Fix us. No way I’m giving up on that us because she’s the best happy accident that’s ever happened to me and I’d have to be as crazy as everyone believes I am to let her go without a fight.

  “Listen to me,” I say as she tugs at her hand. As if I’d let go that easily. I mean, I can’t force her to stay. I wouldn’t. At the end of the night, she decides what happens or doesn’t—but I’m gonna push my luck until she makes that decision.

  “Fang, you have to know we’d never work out.”

  “Would,” I counter.

  “Won’t.” The smile’s totally gone from her face. “I understand you want to give it a shot for whatever reason, but I’m not into casual hook-ups.”

  “Not about the sex,” I growl.

  “Oh,” she says, the word overly sweet and drawn out. “So you’re proposing to me now?” She leans in. “You have to get down on your knees for that, big boy.”

  “Happy to kneel for you, sweetheart, but we’re gonna get tossed out of here for eating dessert first.”

  She stares at me, blushing.

  No.

  Scratch that.

  She stares at my mouth, and a hundred bucks says she’s remembering exactly how well I devour my dessert.

  “I need you to listen to me for a minute. Please,” I emphasize, pulling out the big guns. “Got something to tell you, okay? Then you stay or go. It’s your decision and I’m gonna respect that, but if you could give me that minute, I’d appreciate it.”

  She nods, looking wary now.

  “Think I love you,” I say bluntly, going for the kill. “Definitely got feelings for you, and not just the below-the-belt kind. You’re awesome and I think we should see where this takes us.”

  Rain stares at me. Not sure, but her mouth might fall over. If this really were a movie, this is the beat in the script where she launches herself at me and seals her mouth to mine. My arms are definitely ready to catch her—I’d never let her fall.

  A beat.

  Two.

  I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

  “So give me a second chance?”

  She shakes her head. No hesitation, no thinking it over, no launching. “No.”

  The fuck? This is not how the story is supposed to go. “What do you mean, no?”

  Rain doesn’t like conflict, so I’m kinda hoping she’ll just agree that I can have my second chance. Then, when things are back to normal, I can woo her some more. I’ll somehow get it right, be who she needs, what she needs.

  “No,” she repeats. “That’s a pretty basic word, Fang. I’m sure you know what it means.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not?” She throws her hands up into the air, gesturing for all she’s worth. Maybe the French restaurant is rubbing off on her? “Because we’re opposites, Fang. Because you’ve never met a felony you don’t want to commit—and because that seems to be the only kind of commitment you do. Because you belong to a motorcycle club that rides around like you’re above the law and you get to do whatever you want because might makes right in your world.”

  “So your objection is that I’m a career criminal? Because I’m gonna have to object. It’s true I’ve never met a rule I didn’t want to break, but the MC’s about riding and living life free. We do what we gotta do to keep that life, and yeah, sometimes that means breaking a law or two, especially when it comes to holding our territory. But we’re not dealing drugs or pimping out women like some kind of TV show. Just because we could do it doesn’t mean we’re gonna. There’s good shit and bad shit—but I think we’re closer on that than you think.”

  There’s another long, silent pause while she evaluates that. “I believe in following the law,” she says finally. “And I’m not sure I buy that some guys get to be an exception to the rules. Plus, I’m pretty sure the fine state of Louisiana would take issue with your whole holding territory claim.”

  This is the moment to start explaining about packs and werewolves—except fucking hell… it’s not just my secret. And while I’ve thumbed my nose at authority, human and were, I do believe there’s shit you just don’t do. Rolling on my brothers is one of them. So I look back at Rain, holding her gaze, hoping what I’ve given her is enough.

  When I don’t say anything, she sighs and starts talking again. “But it’s more than breaking or not breaking the law. I value stability, security, and honesty in a man.”

  The implication being of course that I’m none of those things.

  “You think Prince Fucking Charming was all those things? Hell, even that British prince dude did a whole lot of partying and screwing around before he settled down with that Kate chick and started popping out princes and princesses.”

  “I’m not anti-adventure,” she says quietly. “But I’m done dating Mr. Wrong, as fun as he is. I’m ready for Mr. Forever.”

  “Pick me,” I say. “I’ll be stable and secure. Swear. Just need you to be my old lady.”

  Her eyes narrow. “That has to be the most insulting label ever.”

  “It’s not meant to be,” I tell her. And then because she’s listening, really listening, I try to explain. Need a Dummies book for MCs—For Dummies publisher should get on that stat. “It’s a commitment. Biggest one a brother can make. Means I’m fronting for you to the club, vouching for you. You want to get married, we can do that too.”

  I wait for lightning to strike or the ceiling to cave in, but God’s apparently taking a smoke break and the architects did a damn fine job. Nothing happens.

  “And honest? Are you going to be one hundred percent honest with me about everything?”

  “Got some stuff I can’t tell you.”

  “You mean you won’t.” She looks sad. “I’ve told you before that Dick was a manipulative son of a bitch. He wasn’t anymore monogamous with truth than he was with me—and that’s something that I won’t do again. I need full disclosure, Fang.”

  “Club business has to stay club business.”

  “I’m not talking about the felonious extra-curriculars,” she says slowly. “But there’s something more than law-breaking happening with your club. You think I haven’t wondered why Keelie Sue wasn’t seeing an OB-GYN? Or why you all gave me the bum rush out of the delivery room? I’m not stupid, Fang. And I’ve been questioning my own judgment ever since—if I chose to overlook something I shouldn’t have, if I committed a serious ethical lapse.”

  “Keelie Sue’s good.”

  “She seemed that way, or I would have said something then.”

  Rain would have, too.

  “But there’s something different about your MC, something not right.”

  The words she’s looking for are not human, but not like I can help her out there. Instead, I meet her gaze.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Both,” I growl. “Fuck me, but for once I’m trying to follow the rules, Rain. There’s some shit I can’t give on, not even for you.”

  “Just once, I’d like to be first,” she says quietly. “Second’s not so bad. I get that. But I’d be lying if I said I’m okay with it. If I’m going to be in a relationship, it has to be a partnership and you can’t or won’t do that. So I think we’re done here.”

  She gets up. Hesitat
es.

  “Ladies’ room?”

  “No.” Her hand brushes the back of my chair. She’s so close that I can smell her scent and feel the warmth of her skin. Her dress brushes against my arm.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she says and brushes her mouth over my cheek, friend-zoning me.

  And then she walks away from me.

  And I let her go.

  Because it’s what she wants or thinks she needs. Because it’s what I promised her I’d do. Because everything’s gone to shit and I can’t joke or thumb my nose or fight my way out of this mess. She didn’t even touch her salad.

  I’ve lost her and yet I’ve done everything right. I’ve asked and I’ve pleased and I’ve turned over a whole new leaf so goddamned big that it’s the size of a ginormous palm rather than one of those itty-bitty polite leaves on a bush.

  Or maybe I didn’t.

  Can’t or won’t.

  I get up because I’m not eating dinner by myself. The waiter flaps his arms, looking alarmed. Fuck him. I stop at the front desk to settle the check only to discover that Rain’s already paid it.

  Funny. It’s not the first time she’s paid for my mistakes.

  I ride off into that good night on my bike and my brain doesn’t stop replaying the night.

  Maybe I didn’t trust her, not completely.

  Because Rain’s right. I do have a secret I’m keeping from her. It’s not just mine, though. It belongs to my pack and I love them. Huh. I chew on that for a few miles. Love isn’t a word I like to use, not unless I’m talking about how much I love beer or fast bikes or even fucking bologna, which is an awesome meat product and needs to be eaten every day. But I feel something for those things, and I feel even more something for my pack.

  Ware who speaks with his fists and who’d go to the wall for his human mate, Marly. Blade who spends more time running as a wolf than most of us do. Scarred-up Gator who hides out in the bayou because he’s not a people person and he has a personal space bubble the size of Antarctica. And Jace. Our Alpha and fucking fearless leader. They’ve kicked my ass when I needed it, but they’ve also had my back. They’ve accepted me on my terms and put up with my jokes and weird shit.

  They’ve given me the love and affection that I wanted my grandfather to feel for me, although he didn’t. Won’t not can’t. They trust that I’ll do the right thing, be a good person. So I love my pack—and Imma have to trust them with this.

  And the fact that I want to giftwrap our secret and deliver it to Rain with a big fucking bow on top? I think I might feel that same something for her.

  Love.

  I wait for the panic to hit me, but it doesn’t.

  I love my pack. I love Rain.

  No. I love Rain. I love my pack. She’s first, always first from here on out. Funny how the sky doesn’t fall and the world doesn’t end when I say those words in my head. No. Not words. Feelings.

  I probably should hit Jace with my news at the clubhouse seeing as how it’s MC business, but I don’t want to wait. I open the throttle more and more until I’m streaking up the highway fast enough to rocket into outer space.

  I pull into Jace’s driveway, my wheels spitting gravel as I come in for a fast landing. His house is a big, white, gingerbread monstrosity with lots of decorative pillars. I like to tease him that he’s compensating. Truth is, he’s a good man and I’m glad he’s on Keelie Sue’s side.

  After retrieving my baby present from my saddlebags, I swing off my bike and stride to the front door. He’s got one of those prissy doorbells that plays classical music and shit. I ignore it in favor of banging on the door with my fist. It flies open almost immediately.

  Jace cradles the baby with one arm. There’s a pink and white polka dotted towel chucked over one shoulder, sporting some suspicious stains. He raises one finger to his mouth in the universal gesture for shut-the-fuck-up.

  “If you wake her up, I’ll kill you,” he whispers.

  He looks tired. There’s also enough scruff on his face that I think you could start a fire if you rubbed a stick up against it. He’s barefoot and his shirt is wrinkled, although that’s also pretty normal for Jace. He’s no more a suit guy than I am.

  The baby in his arms whimpers and we both freeze.

  A few long seconds later, the baby seems to pass out again. We both exhale.

  “Thank f—” Right. No swearing in front of the Mini-Me. Now that she’s had a little time out here in the real world, she’s looking less like a bright red prune. It’s a definite improvement. Beneath the white cap with bananas, her face is still pinkish and scrunched up. She’s also got the longest fucking eyelashes I’ve ever seen. Not even a month old, and she’s already a heartbreaker.

  “You’re a lucky son of a bitch that she looks like her mommy.” I reach out a hand and pull it back. Pretty sure I have no business touching the baby.

  Jace just shakes his head. “She’s gonna curse like a biker.”

  “And she’ll have all of us watching out for her.” God help the boy who takes her to prom.

  Jace surprises me by holding the baby out. I’m sort of surprised he’s willing to let me this close to his offspring. Possibly, it’s because her eyes fly open and she scrunches her face up, letting loose a banshee wail. I broke the baby, so I get to fix her. Screaming doesn’t bother me and fair’s fair, so I take her. All that book reading is coming in handy because I manage to look like I know what I’m doing. I cradle the munchkin in one arm and sort of bounce her up and down gently.

  Jace gestures at my precious cargo. “You sing too? Because she’s cranky and it’s naptime. Keelie Sue’s asleep so I hate to wake her up to work the boob magic.”

  “She got a name?”

  Jace gives me a tired smile. “Margie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Margie,” I croon to baby girl. “You wanna dance?”

  Since Margie’s vocabulary is either extremely limited or she’s speaking fluent caveman, I decide to assume she’s giving me a yes. I belt out a country song, dancing around the room. Two verses and a refrain later, she starts yawning. Score. When she drifts off into lala land, I slide her into the bassinette occupying one corner of the living room. Clearly, I’m the king of babies.

  I’m still admiring my handiwork when Keelie Sue staggers in. She’s wearing one of Jace’s T-shirts with a wet splotch over one boob and a pair of navy blue sweatpants that bag at the knees. Her hair’s twisted up on top of her head like a soft-serve ice cream cone and she looks exhausted. In fact, I’m not entirely certain she’s awake. On the up side, her tits are enormous. Jace smacks the back of my head but it’s like ignoring a national monument or something. Probably helps that my brain jumps straight from memorializing Keelie Sue’s assets to imagining what Rain would look like if she popped out our kid. I like that image a whole lot.

  I grab the gift bag and hold it out in front of me like armor. “I brought you a present.”

  “You already brought me one,” Keelie Sue deadpans.

  “Yeah. About that.” I rub the back of my head. “Imma have to rethink that one.”

  Keelie Sue gives me a duh look, but she also takes pity on me and rifles through the gift bag while I try to figure out where to start. Today’s offerings are decidedly less human—and vocal—than the last “present” I brought her. I think Rain would approve. Okay, she might not be a fan of the Biker Babe onesie, but the kiddie books my editor recommended are awesome.

  While Keelie Sue makes admiring noises, I look over at my club president. He’s holding up the wall now, a resigned look on his face.

  “I’m going after Rain.” Starting at the beginning is good. The tricky bit is what happens after I catch her and if she doesn’t kill me.

  “Yeah,” Jace says. “Boys have been betting on what it’ll take to get you back in her bed.”

  “The thing is—” Fuck it. Might as well blurt it out. Not like I’m gonna turn into Mr. Diplomacy. “I don’t just want in her bed.”

  Keelie Sue looks up
from the books. She beams at me like I’m super clever. “You don’t?”

  I rub a hand over my head. “I do. She’s totally hot, really fucking awesome.” Shit. I wince. No swearing. I mime wiping the air with an eraser. “And she absolutely does it for me in bed, so of course I want to be there with her.

  “Overshare,” Jace says dryly.

  “But I wanna be with her outside of bed, too. And not just for sex.”

  Keelie Sue turns up the smile wattage. “You want her to be your girlfriend for real.”

  I frown. “Wanted more than that, if I’m being honest. I’d like her to be my old lady.”

  “Club’s gonna be okay with that,” Jace says slowly. “The guys like her. She’s good people. So why are you here?”

  “Because I promised her no more secrets. I need to tell her what I am, but that’s not just my business.”

  There’s a long pause.

  “Fuck,” Jace says finally. Keelie Sue frowns at him. Guess he’s on a no-cursing diet, too. “The more people who know, the likelier it is someone lets something slip.”

  “Rain’s not like that. She’s responsible. She knows all about privacy—keeping people’s personal shit quiet is practically in her job description.” I can only imagine what she’s seen and heard.

  Jace opens the door to the back porch. “Let’s talk.”

  I suspect he wants me away from Margie in case I raise my voice or we end up fighting, but as it happens, I agree with him. I hand the sleeping baby over to her momma and follow him outside. He’s got a sweet set up. You can practically stick your feet into the bayou without ever leaving the porch. Fishing, hunting, free-range roaming—it’s wolfie paradise here.

  He gestures to one of the ginormous wicker chairs perched on the edge of the porch. Those are new but I’m not anti-furniture, especially if we’re gonna pretend we’re civilized. I sink into the cushions. Bet Keelie Sue picked them out because I can’t imagine Jace choosing all this girly crap. They’ve got little pink and white stripes on them.

  “Rain won’t out us.” I believe this, too. She may not like my news—and it’s gonna come as a shock to her—but she’s not vindictive. Worst case scenario, she’ll tell me to take a long walk off a short pier.