Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance

by Ashley Jennifer

  Elizabeth’s voice came from the doorway. “I thought you’d come here to talk him out of it, Sean.”

  All three of them jumped like guilty teenagers as Elizabeth walked into the room.

  She was unhappy, that was obvious, but Ronan took in her jeans and tight red top, her high-heeled half-boots, the streaks in her hair that matched her shirt, and felt his mating frenzy stir. The lines of the butterfly peeping over the top’s neckline reminded him of the beautiful little fairy on her breast. For a moment, whatever Sean was saying went fuzzy.

  “I’m here to help you in a different way, lass,” he thought Sean said. “With me trusty laptop.” He’d set it up on Elizabeth’s desk. The laptop looked plain, low-end, but Sean’s fingers skimmed the keyboard, and screens began to pop up under his touch. “You’re going to tell me everything about Rachel Sullivan and her little sister, and they’ll go away, forever.” He wriggled his fingers a few inches above the keys. “Like magic.”

  “Forever.” Elizabeth stared at the laptop, a strange expression on her face.

  “No one will ever connect you with her again,” Sean said. “And no one will be able to track you from that name—or that name from your current one. You’ll have been Elizabeth Chapman from birth. Is that who you want to be?”

  Elizabeth stilled, staring at the laptop as though it would leap from the table and devour her. Her need for touch, for reassurance, screamed itself at Ronan.

  But Ronan made himself stay where he was, though he had to clamp his arms across his middle to keep himself from going to her. She had to make this decision on her own, uninfluenced by Ronan, or Sean, or Julio, or Zach Casey.

  Elizabeth drew a long breath, gaze flicking from the laptop to Ronan.

  “Yes,” she said.

  ***

  Elizabeth heard Ronan follow her out into the alley, where she’d gone to calm herself, to try to master her sudden dizziness. Inside, Sean was erasing—somehow—all trace of who Elizabeth used to be.

  Ronan stopped beside her, leaning broad shoulders back against the wall, resting his booted foot against it. He said nothing and didn’t reach for her. The man knew how to comfort simply by standing there.

  “How can what Sean’s doing help?” Elizabeth asked. “No matter how careful I was, Pablo Marquez’s girlfriend found me out. How can Sean stop someone else from putting together the same information?”

  “Because no hacker can out-hack a Guardian,” Ronan said in a low voice. “Don’t ask me how they do it. It’s a secret known only to Guardians, and I’m not one, thank the Goddess.”

  “Why should he do this for me? If he’s caught . . .” Elizabeth said the last in a murmur, glancing at the other closed doors in the alley.

  “Sean, caught? You’d be amazed at what he and Liam get up to. Not to mention their dad.”

  “I don’t want you going tonight, Ronan. I heard what Spike said.” She looked up at him, big as a wrestler, no softness about him. “But you’re not going to listen to me, are you?”

  “Oh, I’m listening, Lizzie-girl.”

  “But you’ll do it anyway.”

  “It’s a good chance to get Marquez and his threats out of your life. Sean can help you with his laptop, me with my fists.” He slanted her a look that made her remember his warmth in the night and the way she’d felt safe in his arms. “I’m pretty damn good at what I do.”

  He was, though she knew he didn’t mean sex. “You’re not even supposed to leave Shiftertown,” she said, still in the low murmur. “Let alone go to some barn in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Even more of a challenge.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m grateful for what Sean’s doing, but erasing my info won’t hide me from Zach. Julio’s already contacted him.”

  “Elizabeth.” Ronan faced her, resting his hands on the wall on either side of her. “You never have to worry about the Marquez brothers, or this Zach, or anything they might do to you, again. Whatever they do, it won’t touch you. We’ve got your back.”

  No one but Ronan had ever said that to her and meant it. Ronan’s eyes held nothing but sincerity, his vast strength like a barrier between her and the world.

  “Why would you all do this for me? A week and a half ago, you barely knew me.”

  Ronan leaned closer. She’d never be able to duck away from him before he could close his arms around her, and she didn’t particularly want to.

  “I mate-claimed you,” Ronan said. “That makes you one of us. You might walk away later, and we’ll let you, but we won’t let anything happen to you. You’ve become an honorary member of my clan, of Ellison’s pack, of Sean and Liam’s pride . . . until you become a full member of my clan.” He came closer still and nuzzled her. “I’m hoping that happens soon.”

  “No pressure,” she said, but she smiled.

  “Nope.” He nuzzled her again and kissed her softly. “No pressure at all.”

  “I’m coming with you tonight,” she said.

  “Well, yeah, I hope so. Wouldn’t be the same without my mate-to-be cheering me on.”

  “Who says I’ll cheer, Bear with Large Ego?”

  “You will. And when I win, you’ll be all over me.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Ronan said. “And sweetie, trust me, I have some great dreams.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The makeshift arena for the Shifter fights was at the end of a dirt road a long way north and east of the 290. Elizabeth hung onto Ronan as he guided his bike down an FM road, then a county road, and finally an unmarked road where the pavement ended after only a few feet.

  At the end of this dirt trail was an abandoned farm tucked among bushy trees, ponds and stock tanks shimmering in the moonlight. The barn was an incredibly long metal building, rusting now, built to store hay for a ton of cattle.

  The hay was long gone, along with the livestock that had eaten it. Now the barn smelled rusty, musty, and muddy. But tonight, with fires blazing in barrels up and down its center, it was alive with animation and excitement.

  Elizabeth tasted the anticipation as she walked in close behind Ronan. Behind her came Spike, wearing a muscle shirt that showed off his completely inked arms. He had beautiful tattoos, drawn by a true artist, colors bright and flowing. Ellison came behind him, in his usual cowboy boots, black button-down shirt, and Stetson.

  Sean walked behind Ellison, minus his sword. But though he claimed he’d come “incognito,” everyone recognized Sean. Elizabeth saw the Shifters back away as he walked by, the Shifters uneasy. Andrea had told Elizabeth that while Shifters respected Guardians, Guardians were reminders of death, which didn’t sit well with them. Sean took it in stride, but Elizabeth had noticed the quietness in him, and how he drank in Andrea’s love for him like a man who’d gone thirsty too long.

  Andrea had stayed home because of her advanced pregnancy, but plenty of women mixed in with the crowd of males. Several of the females were tall Shifter women, but most were human. Shifter groupies were there, both men and women. Some wore fake wildcat or wolf ears, others had painted whiskers on their faces or made up their eyes to look feline. The female groupies wore scanty clothing; the males who wanted sex wore low-slung jeans and tight T-shirts or no shirts at all. The men who’d come simply to hang out with Shifters dressed more conservatively and eyed the female groupies—and some, the male groupies—with calculating stares.

  The male humans took full notice of Elizabeth as she walked behind Ronan in her red top and jeans, gazes drifting to her tatt. Elizabeth had been sized up before, but never had she felt so much like a walking piece of meat. The Shifters were eyeing her too, she saw, but then they’d look at Ronan, look again at her, inhale, and slide their gazes away.

  Not all of these Shifters were from Ronan’s Shiftertown, she understood. The fight clubs drew Shifters from Shiftertowns in Austin, Hill Country, San Antonio, and from as far away as Houston to the east, Waco to the north, and San Angelo to the west. Humans did not l
ike Shifters from different Shiftertowns mingling, but fight clubs had become a melting pot, according to Spike. And, the tattooed Shifter added, what humans didn’t know wouldn’t hurt Shifters.

  The barn had been divided into thirds, plenty of room for three fights to take place simultaneously. A fight had already commenced in the far end, Shifters and humans alike shouting encouragement.

  By the time Ronan and Elizabeth reached the last ring, the two Shifters, a wolf and a wildcat, were all over each other. The wildcat had a lot of lion in it, mane and all, but the wolf was just big. The wolf’s Collar snapped and sparked, though the wildcat’s remained strangely silent.

  “Shit,” Sean said behind her. “That’s my dad.”

  The wildcat was winning. The wolf snarled and fought, its Collar going crazy. The wildcat finally got a large paw around the wolf and slammed it to the ground. The wildcat held the wolf there, the wolf’s eyes white with rage and pain.

  Five Shifter men leapt over the low circle of cinderblocks that marked out the ring, shouting and making waving motions with their arms. The referees, Elizabeth guessed. Ending the fight.

  The wildcat backed away. The wolf rolled to its feet, shaking its body like a dog. The wolf’s shape undulated as it shook, ending with the wolf becoming a young man with shaggy black hair. The young man rose upright and put his hands on his hips, breathing hard, Collar still sparking.

  The wildcat morphed into the tall form of Dylan Morrissey. Ronan had told Elizabeth that Dylan was aging even by Shifter standards, but in human terms Dylan looked like a man in his late forties at most, one in fantastic shape. His Collar was quiet, and he didn’t seem much the worse for wear.

  The refs called Dylan the winner, and those who’d bet in his favor went crazy.

  “Dad!” Sean called.

  Dylan saw them, stepped over the cinderblocks, and came to them, completely unworried that he was naked in front of Elizabeth. But many of the Shifters were already naked, stretching, warming up, getting ready for their bouts.

  “Since when do you take part in Shifter fights?” Sean asked him.

  Dylan shrugged. “They keep me on my toes.”

  “Does Liam know?”

  Dylan took a shirt from Glory, who’d materialized out of the crowd. “Not everything I do is Liam’s business, son.”

  Glory hung on Dylan’s shoulder. “You got that right. Dylan fighting is damn sexy. Gets my blood pumping.”

  Sean looked embarrassed. Glory gave Elizabeth a thumb’s up behind Dylan’s back. Dylan turned away, as though uncaring what anyone thought of him, and Glory followed him into the crowd.

  “Parents, eh?” Sean said to Elizabeth. “But what can I do? I’m glad Glory’s only me step-mum.”

  “Treasure it, Sean,” Elizabeth said over the noise. “I never had a dad, embarrassing or otherwise.”

  Sean gave her a nod. “You have a point. Liam and I lost our mum a long time ago.”

  Elizabeth touched his shoulder in sympathy, then she stopped. “Wait a sec. Why didn’t Dylan’s Collar go off?” She remembered Kim standing proudly in the courtroom, proclaiming that Ronan’s Collar remaining dark meant he hadn’t intended to hurt anyone. “They were fighting pretty hard. It didn’t look like your dad was holding back in there.”

  Sean’s gaze flicked from hers. “Could be lots of reasons.”

  Elizabeth recognized evasiveness when she heard and saw it. Apparently information about the Collars was need-to-know.

  “Come on,” Sean said, pretending he’d answered the question to her satisfaction. “Ronan’s spotted Marquez.”

  Sean pushed through the crowd that waited for the next fight, and Elizabeth followed in his wake. Behind her, women were shouting for the next two heading into the ring. She also heard females she passed going crazy for Spike. They screamed his name or “There-he-is-oh-my-God-that’s-him!”

  Julio Marquez stood in a relatively empty space with three men around him, all human. No guns were visible, Shifters stationed at the entrance to check for them. No weapons were allowed inside the barn. There was no sign of Zach, either, though every tracker Liam employed was searching for him or here keeping a lookout for him.

  “You showed up,” Julio was saying when Elizabeth reached Ronan. “Good start. You should have left the chica at home, though.”

  Ronan ignored him. “So where’s this champion?”

  “You’ll see him when you fight him. Half an hour. Ring two.” He laughed. “Maybe it is a good thing you brought your bitch. She’ll be on hand when you need to say good-bye.”

  Ronan turned away, his body language all that was contempt.

  “He’s up to something,” Elizabeth said to him. “I mean more than trying to kill you and give me to Zach.”

  “Of course he’s up to something,” Ronan said. “He’s a thief and a liar. It’s just figuring out what and when.” He slid his arm around Elizabeth’s waist. “Half an hour, eh? Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should take you into a corner and kiss you a while, just in case. We’ll make Sean and Spike keep watch for us.”

  ***

  Pablo Marquez was in the middle of a deal that could cinch him taking over the trade of the entire southern half of Texas. He could leave Austin and his sudden Shifter problem and hole up in a beautiful mansion by a lake. No more back alley body shops or too-curious neighbors in the suburbs. Solitude, a pool, and all the fine wine he could drink. He was becoming a connoisseur of the stuff.

  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 wer
e 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.