by Jodi Vaughn
“I apologize. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He forced the words out despite the urge to take her into his arms and kiss her again.
She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “I almost believe you.”
His head snapped up. “I always respect women. I’ve never forced a woman to do something she didn’t want to do. I’m not that guy.”
“I said, I almost believe you. Why did you think you could take what’s not yours?” She walked toward him until they were toe to toe and far, far too close.
His body raged with lust as her scent became overwhelming. He took a step back to regain his composure.
She took a step forward.
He angled his body away from the window so his back wouldn’t hit the wall. And when she took another step into his personal space, the backs of his legs hit the bed.
Smirking, she stepped closer and shoved his chest.
He had no choice but to sit. As his body landed on the bed, he felt his resolve slipping.
“Tell me something, Lucien.” She straddled his legs and sat on his lap. “Tell me, what makes a male think they have the right to a woman’s body?”
Her sweet ass pressed into his jean-clad legs. His dick hardened and throbbed. He fisted his hands in the comforter to keep from touching her.
“They don’t. A male worth anything respects a woman.”
“Hmmmm.” She scooted closer until her sweet spot was resting right over his erection.
He gritted his teeth and growled.
She smirked and pressed her hands to his chest, knocking him back onto the bed. With her advantage over him, she hovered over his stomach and leaned down. Her warm breath hit his cheek as she leaned to his ear.
“Is it because some males think just because some girls take their clothes off for a living they are whores?” Anger flashed behind her eyes.
“No.”
She ran her finger down his chest. When she reached the top of his jeans, she dipped her finger inside, touching the flesh of his stomach.
“If that’s true, then why are you hard?” She smirked.
“Getting hard over a beautiful woman is a natural reaction.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” She held his gaze.
“You know you are.” The hated words grated his throat as sweat popped out over his skin.
“And if I were to do this, would you still stop if I said no?” She leaned back and reached for the bottom of her shirt. Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, she lifted it over her head, revealing a black bra and a smooth expanse of flat stomach.
He tried to swallow but his mouth was like sandpaper.
“Catty, you are messing with fire.”
“No, Lucien, you are.” Her smirk changed into something hard. “I’ve known men like you. Males who think just because a girl takes her clothes off for money that it includes sex too. That we are asking for it.” There was a hard edge to her voice, hard enough to cut through steel.
“I never said that.” The blood pulsed in his ears.
“But back there you offered me money.”
“I offered you money for your time. Not sex.”
“So if I took this off”— she ran her fingertip under the strap of her bra— “you wouldn’t take it as a sign I want you to fuck me.”
“Catty, stop it,” Lucien warned.
“Why? Unable to control your urges around a naked woman, Lucien?” She smirked and reached around her back to unhook her bra.
He grabbed her hand. “Cut it out, Catty.”
“Why? Isn’t this what you want?” She leaned down and playfully nipped his ear.
He grabbed her waist and twisted his body, putting hers underneath his.
Fear flitted through her eyes before she fixed her face into the same confident cold mask she usually wore.
“I don’t hurt women. You don’t fucking know me, so stop lumping me in with every other asshole who’s ever hurt you. You are the one who started this bullshit about me thinking you were a whore because you are a stripper. It’s frankly none of my business, to be quite honest. Stop being a brat and grow the fuck up.” He scrambled off the bed, grabbed his jacket off the floor, and headed for the front door.
“Lucien, wait.”
“Why?” He didn’t turn to look at her. Her assumptions about him had him more pissed off than turned on.
He heard the soft falling of clothes over her body. When he turned, she was dressed and standing behind him with her hands in her jeans pockets. Her cheeks were stained red and she studied the floor.
“I’m sorry I offended you.” She lifted her eyes to him.
He said nothing. The uncomfortable weight in his chest made him look away. “I’m not here for fun. I’m here to try to help your brother. And your games aren’t helping anything.” He turned and grabbed the doorknob.
“Lucien, wait. Is Zane in trouble?” She grabbed his arm.
“The Guardians are all in trouble.”
She blinked and paled a bit. “So he’s a Guardian now.”
“Yeah, why? Do you have something against Guardians?” He fired back.
“No, of course not. I didn’t know. That’s all.” She swallowed before she spoke. “You can’t go yet. I haven’t bandaged your shoulder.”
“I’m fine. The bleeding’s stopped.” He opened the door and made his exit.
He stepped out onto the street, the heat of the day bearing down on him like a wet quilt. He glanced down at his arm. His body was already showing signs of healing. He caught the wide-eyed stares from passersby who openly stared at his bloodied shirt. He shot them a glare and they quickly averted their eyes to the ground and hastened their steps.
He needed to get away from her, to calm down, to think. Whatever had happened between them couldn’t happen again. Not ever again.
Chapter Twelve
Catty stayed anchored to the spot, her joints and muscles refusing to move. When the door slammed behind Lucien, her gut hardened and twisted with painful regret.
She’d been a bitch to him, a tease. She was trying to force his hand, get him to show his true colors. She knew he was hiding something, something he wasn’t telling her. God knew she couldn’t trust people’s words. But she could trust their actions.
She’d practically thrown herself at him. Something she’d never done before. He’d turned her down. Something no male had done before.
Although it had been a test, he’d not been impressed with her one redeeming quality. Her body.
She wanted to go after him, to apologize, to explain herself and tell him she didn’t normally act this way. But it was risky. Especially now that he’d spilled the reason he was here. To help the Guardians.
She placed a hand over her nauseated stomach. Too many troubles were coming at her at a speed she couldn’t control.
Zane was a Guardian and in trouble. He was her brother and if she could help him out, then she would.
If the wolves at the strip club caught wind of her hanging out with Lucien, who had ties to the Arkansas Guardians, there would be hell to pay. Louisiana werewolves hated Guardians. They didn’t like anyone in their business, and Guardians had the power to keep them in line. Especially Big Mike. If he found out she’d been trying to help the Guardians, her boss would want her blood.
I have to help. Even if it will cost me somewhere down the line.
***
Barrett slowed his speed on his Harley Davidson Breakout as he approached the solitary driveway of the dusty rural road. He knew by the time he reached his destination the black denim finish on his bike was going to be covered in a film of dust.
He’d ridden his bike like hell was on his heels down the lonesome highway in the dead of night. He needed to get away from his Pack, his obligations, and his helplessness.
He needed to find some answers.
The hot night air stuck to his T-shirt, making his flesh drip with sweat like drops of rain. He’d grown up in humidity and heat in his home state of South Carolina.
He could handle whatever Arkansas threw his way.
He slowed his bike as his headlight fell upon the five-foot iron fence surrounding the isolated cemetery only a few knew about.
He was meeting someone. Someone who might have some answers or could at least point him in the right direction.
Another package had come in that afternoon after all the Guardians had headed out for dinner. This time when he opened the small box, it was something more than a tattoo.
It was Heimy’s middle finger.
Apparently the assholes had cut off one hand and now were cutting off the fingers of the other hand one by one. There was no way the werewolf would still be alive after all that. Barrett knew the captors were playing with him, making sure to let him know how much his Guardian had suffered before he drew his last breath.
Barrett had sworn to protect his werewolves, and he meant it.
He’d failed Heimy, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to fail anyone else.
He killed the engine and slid off his bike. He made his way into the cemetery and looked around. He glanced at the time on his phone.
He was early.
He spotted a large headstone in the shape of a tree trunk and walked over. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he rested against the stone. Humans were weird, wanting the biggest headstone and showing off long after they were dead. Didn’t they realize no one remembered you after you died? Not even if you put up the biggest monument of yourself. The only thing people remembered was what you did for them. Good or bad.
A few minutes later, soft footsteps had him turning his attention in their direction.
“I was beginning to wonder if you would show up.” Barrett pushed off the headstone and met the gaze of Jack Welbourn, Pack Master of Mississippi.
“I always keep my promises, although your request for a meeting was on short notice.” The large figure stepped into a stream of moonlight and smiled. Jack was dressed in a black business suit and loafers.
“That’s no way to travel on a Harley, Jack.” Barrett nodded at his clothing.
“There wasn’t time to bring my Harley.” Jack arched his thick brow. “I had to take my private plane so I wouldn’t be late for this meeting. You know it takes a few hours to travel from Mississippi.”
“Did you land in Little Rock?”
“Nah. I like to keep this under the radar. So I landed about a mile from here. Small landing strip through the woods.” He nodded over his shoulder. “I keep a map of all the air strips throughout the Southern states. Never know when you might need an emergency landing.”
Barrett knew the real reason. Jack wouldn’t want to be seen with Barrett, especially since finding out what had been happening to his Guardians. It might put his Mississippi Guardians in danger.
“I’m in a tight spot, Jack.” He rubbed his hand down his face and met the Pack Master’s gaze.
“So I hear.” The Mississippi Pack Master knit his brows together as he walked down the little deer path that wound its way from the cemetery into the thick woods. Barrett fell into step beside him.
Jack Welbourn was twenty years older than Barrett. When Barrett had assumed the seat of Pack Master in Arkansas, Jack was also one of the ones to welcome him without having anything to say about his age. Jack was hard but fair, something Barrett strived to be with his own state.
“I have to say I’ve never heard of our Guardians being hunted before.”
“You’ve not had any Guardians come up missing?” Barrett cut his eyes at him.
“No. All of mine are accounted for.” Concern etched into the granite of his tone and the hard expression on his face.
“Forgive me for asking, but have they all been accounted for while on their missions in Arkansas?” He hated to ask, but he had to know.
Jack halted in his steps. His gaze tightened on Barrett. “Are you insinuating my werewolves have been hunting other Guardians?” His tone deepened. The older Pack Master might have some years on Barrett, but the old fucker was still a wall of muscle.
“Like I said. Forgive me.” Barrett looked away and ran his hands through his hair, his muscles twitching, needing to release this built-up hostility that was slowly poisoning his body. “But I’ve got Guardians missing and packages arriving with their fucking extremities in them.” His gut tightened in disgust.
Jack nodded and relaxed. “Your anger is understandable. If it were my men, I’d want someone’s dick on a stick too.” He shook his head. “I’ve asked around as much as I can without giving away too much. No one in Mississippi has heard anything. Hell, I’ve even put more Guardians around the state border to increase security.”
“Fuck.” Barrett curled his fingers in a fist and slammed it into the oak tree. The tree groaned and splintered, leaving the interior exposed.
“I know this is hard, but you’ve got to keep your head straight. Your dad wouldn’t want you acting like this.”
“My father is dead. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me anymore.”
Jack laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Barrett…”
He shrugged him off. He didn’t want to talk about his father. He had too many important issues to deal with to go down memory lane. “Look, is there anyone else, anyone in your state, who might have a lead on what’s going on with this?”
Jack frowned and looked away.
“You know someone.”
“Some people shouldn’t be relied upon for any kind of help, Barrett. Once you go asking, they’re always going to want a favor. You don’t want your soul indebted to the devil.” He planted his feet in a wide stance and glared at him. The intensity was not lost on Barrett. What Jack didn’t realize was that Barrett was willing to risk it all.
“If it means stopping whoever is hurting my Guardians, I’ll gladly sell body and soul to the devil.”
Jack glanced at the ground and then back up. “You might be singing a different tune after you meet that bitch.”
***
“Wow, this place hasn’t looked this good in… who am I kidding, this place has never looked this good.” Catty stuck the cleaning product back in the cabinet and glanced around her apartment, seeing whether she’d forgotten to clean something.
Nervous energy still pulsed in her veins despite cleaning her apartment from end to end. Her muscles ached from scrubbing the floor, but her mind was as restless as a cat in a paper sack. She might pick up from time to time but clean? She never cleaned.
But today she’d needed something to take her mind off Lucien and the way he had looked at her before walking out the door.
She sat down in front of the window, heart heavy and regret tugging at her gut. She looked down at the busy street. Night was falling across the city, lulling its victims into debauchery for a dime.
When Lucien had mentioned Zane, shame had washed over her like a waterfall. Was her brother okay? And what trouble was he in? What trouble were the Guardians in? Now she’d never know since Lucien had stormed out.
“What were you thinking, Catty?” She laid her head against the window and screwed her eyes tight.
No wonder her life was so messed up. She always acted without thinking and then she had to face the consequences.
Even as a stripper she wasn’t facing her consequences. She was hiding.
She was tired of hiding. She wanted something more. She wanted some direction in her life, some purpose.
Sighing, she stood and headed over to her laptop. She powered up her computer and sat down at her small desk.
Making decisions on the spur of the moment wasn’t working in her favor. She needed a plan with clear direction.
It was one reason she’d left home. She didn’t have a purpose or a plan there. She couldn’t live up to her family’s perfect image.
She wasn’t smart like Zane or cultured like her mom. She wasn’t determined like her father. She’d felt like a wild child, a gypsy. People always asked her what she wanted to do when she grew up, and she honestly couldn’t answer them. Th
e only time she did answer was when Skylar asked her.
Skylar had wanted to build things, to help people. It seemed so noble and so unlike anything Catty had ever wanted. But when Skylar kept asking her, Catty blurted out she didn’t care what she did as long as she was seen.
Catty had held her breath, waiting for Skylar to judge and make fun of her. But Skylar never did.
Catty stared at the search bar and typed in How to find your perfect job. She hit the enter key.
She scrolled down the search list until she came to a test designed to tell her what job she would best be suited for. She grabbed a quick cup of tea and settled in to answer the questions.
No matter what it turned out to be, she was going to follow it. From here on out, she was sticking to a plan for her life.
***
Lucien bent his head under the spray of water. The hot water had long since turned cold, but he was reluctant to get out. He needed the icy chill to help get Catty out of his mind.
Turning the water off, he grabbed a towel and rubbed it across his long dark hair before tossing it on the floor. He crawled into the middle of the bed and lay on his back, letting the cool air drift over his naked body.
He’d called and given Barrett an update about Catty. He’d told him to stay on the girl to see if she’d trip up and reveal something.
Lucien was no closer to finding anything out about the Guardians than he had been when he’d gotten there. He hadn’t seen a trace of his brother either. After leaving Catty’s apartment he’d hit a few bars and asked some questions, but no one seemed to know the whereabouts of his brother.
He didn’t trust Catty, not after the stunt she’d pulled. If she did know who was behind taking the Guardians, she wasn’t talking. She might be in deep and too afraid to say anything. If she discovered he was a Guardian, it could be his ass on the line.
A quick rap at the door had his muscles tensing and him on his feet in seconds. He grabbed a clean pair of jeans and pulled them over his hips. He grabbed his .9 mm off the dresser and eased to the door to look through the peephole.
