by Jane Jamison
The girl tried to make an end pass around DJ but didn’t make it. She yanked out of his grip as Brandon came up behind her. Slapping a pout on, she gazed up at DJ with big, sad eyes.
“He’s pulling one over on you, man. He said he’d forget about me hitting up some older guy for money if I gave him free pussy.” She cast DJ a sexy look no one could mistake and twirled a strand of golden hair around her finger.
DJ shook his head. “Are you trying to rip off the fine citizens of our fair town, sugar?”
“No way. He’s not a local.” She blinked then frowned. “At least I don’t think he is. Anyway, I only wanted to give him a night to remember. He said he had the perfect part for me in his next show. So what do you say? Would a good fuck pay my way inside? You could fuck me in the ass while he sticks his cock in my pussy.”
DJ and Brandon shared a laugh. “Girl, does it look like either of us has the word stupid written on our foreheads? We get propositioned ten times a night by the next starlet on her way to the big time. If we had a dime for every time some girl was out to get discovered, we sure as hell wouldn’t be working here.”
Desperation glittered in her eyes. “Please. I can’t pay my bills and the landlord swore he’d evict me if I don’t get him his money by tomorrow morning. I swear I’ll take the next guy outside instead of doing him in the restroom.”
Brandon shook his head. Hadn’t she heard what he’d said? “Damn it. Will you listen to me? Taking a guy inside or outside isn’t safe. If you insist on whoring yourself out, then take him some place where your screams won’t get drowned out by the music. I don’t want to hear about you on the news show tomorrow.”
“Okay, whatever. I’ll meet someone and take them to another place nowhere near the club. Will that get me back inside? Please? I swear I’ll be good. Scout’s honor.” She lifted two fingers in a salute.
DJ chuckled, took her hand, and worked her ring finger into position. “Yeah, like you’re a Girl Scout. Cub Scouts do the two-finger salute. Boy and Girl Scouts use three fingers.”
“How do you know this stuff? You were never a scout.” Brandon snorted then adopted the three-finger salute, mimicking his brother.
“I do that thing they call reading. Besides, the fingers of the Cub Scout’s salute represent the ears of a wolf. Everyone knows that.”
“No, they don’t,” Brandon and the girl answered at the same time then glanced at each other, but neither added to the comment.
“Whatever.” She grazed her palm over DJ’s chest and let her fingers do the walking toward his lower half. “Let me show you the magic I can work on your cock.”
He lifted her hand away from his crotch. “Sorry, and as much as I hate to admit it, my brother’s right. We need to get back to work. Maybe we can try this again some other night. Like when hell freezes over.” He backed into the club, shooting her the Boy Scout salute.
Brandon grabbed her as she made a lunge to get back into the club. Holding her up as though she weighed less than a doll, he carried her back into the alley and plunked her down on her feet. Again, she tried to dodge past him, but he caught her before she’d taken two steps.
“Uh-uh-uh.” Turning her around to place her back to him, he pushed her toward the end of the alley. “I’m done playing our little game. Good luck with getting famous. I hope for your sake that you make it. But until then, stay out of Saddles.” He positioned her on the sidewalk then morphed just enough to bring out his werewolf speed. Giving her a little shove, he hurried into the club and locked the door behind him.
DJ was waiting for him. “You’ve got to give her credit for perseverance.”
“Damn girls get more persistent every night.” Brandon scanned the busy bar and dance floor, noted that more women were doing the line dance than men, then searched the booths lining the wall for any signs of trouble.
“Yeah, and she’s probably already headed to the front door to blow Luther again.”
“We’ve got to get him a different job. Maybe they could use him behind the bar.”
“Mixing drinks?” DJ groaned. “Hell, he’d give drinks away to any girl who let him feel her up.”
Brandon ran a hand through his hair. How much longer would they have to work at Saddles before they finally had enough money saved? Would they have the cash when and if their dream ranch came up for sale? So far, the few properties up for bid weren’t what they were looking for. Of course, after seeing Windy Hills Ranch, no other ranch seemed good enough. But Windy Hills wasn’t for sale. “I’m as fed up as you are, little bro.”
“If you’re getting tired of this job, we could look for something else.” DJ stayed next to him and surveyed the crowded room. Foot-stomping country music kept the mood light while the huge bar in the center of the room surrounded by the dance floor kept the drinks flowing. Although they tried their best to keep drugs out of the club, it was impossible. They’d have to strip-search everyone to have a fighting chance at stopping them from smuggling the stuff in.
“Are you nuts? In this economy? Not a chance.” Brandon cursed at himself. He’d left the door open to DJ’s favorite conversation.
“We could always go back to Forever and rejoin the pack. You know they’ll take us back in a heartbeat.”
“Again. Not a chance.” Brandon led the way through the throng of partiers. If his brother kept dogging on him about leaving the Carr pack, he couldn’t wait for them to split up and go to their respective watch posts in the club. But first, he needed to get Luther out of his position at the front door even if he had to do the job.
“Maybe we could convince Hutch to talk to Martin and Maxim.”
Hutch Whitehawk, Martin Longston, and Maxim Propola were part of the powerful Gaston pack of Denver. Although the Banning brothers were on civil terms with them, they hadn’t approached the alpha about joining, and they never would. Rallon “Snake” Gaston, along with his brothers, ran the pack with an iron hand.
Besides, the Banning boys didn’t want to be part of any pack. Even DJ, who often brought up the Carr pack that they’d left behind in Forever, didn’t really want to join another one. Instead, they’d gone the unusual route for any werewolf by declaring themselves lone wolves. Still, being on speaking terms with the Denver pack would only make things easier once they bought their ranch.
“Why are you bringing them up, anyway? Have you changed your mind about going it alone? Even if you wanted to join them, they’re never going to give us a chance to become alphas. Not even in a remote position.”
DJ let out a low, slow breath. “Yeah, I know. But at least they let us stay without giving us any hassles. Maybe we should think about asking them to front us the money for a ranch.”
It wasn’t the first time his brother had brought up the subject of the Gaston pack loaning them money. Packs usually had plenty of cash flow, but it wasn’t common for them to make loans to werewolves outside their own group. Not without wanting something else in return.
“We’ve gone over this, DJ. The only way they’ll loan us the money is if we agree to join the pack, and that’s not happening. No, no loans. Not from them or from anyone.”
“Not even a bank?”
Brandon chuckled. “And why would they loan us the money? Because of our good looks and werewolf powers? Granted, we have a lot to put down and we all have jobs, but I don’t really want some human banker looking into our lives, do you? Give it some time and we’ll have enough to pay for it in cash.”
He waited for his brother to move away, and when DJ didn’t, he knew his brother had something else on his mind.
“There’s another reason we might want to join another pack.” He held his palms up, heading off Brandon’s objections. “I know. I don’t want to join one, either, but I thought maybe if we got to know their pack better we might find our mate. Or at least widen the search for her.”
Yep. There it is. The one thing none of us has any control over. Brandon drew in a long, slow breath.
The issue of
finding their mate haunted all of them. They’d left Forever not only to set out on their own, away from any pack, but to find the one woman who would become their mate. She hadn’t come to Forever as they’d hoped since they’d first gone through puberty, so they’d had no choice but to either look for her elsewhere or give up on finding her. The second choice was growing stronger with every day that passed, but none of them wanted to have to make that choice.
“Yeah, it could, but are you really ready to get back into a pack? I’m not.”
“I don’t like the idea either, but time’s running out.”
“Don’t remind me. Thirty’s coming up fast.”
DJ bumped against his brother’s shoulder in a gesture that was meant to both tease and to comfort. “For you. You’ve only got four more years. Then Rick, then me.”
Although he’d spoken in jest, DJ’s comment was also a serious one. They’d made a pact that if they hadn’t found the right female by the time Brandon turned thirty, they’d consider finding another woman, human or werewolf, that could love them. They wouldn’t love her as much as they knew they’d love their fated mate, but they figured they could grow to care for her. Although they wouldn’t feel the special instinctive bond, much less the all-consuming passion, that werewolves shared with their intended mate, they’d treat her well, and, hopefully, she’d give them children.
“Yeah, you’re right, bro. We’re our own pack.”
Brandon shot his brother an exasperated look. “Three wolves don’t make a pack.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to get you to relax, bro. Stop worrying. We’re close to having a solid down payment on a ranch. Once we have that, I’m betting our mate will show up.”
“Damn, you’re such an optimist.” Brandon reached the front door and groaned as he spotted Luther letting another obviously underage girl into the club. He started toward Luther.
DJ grabbed his arm, keeping him there. “You could try a little optimism some time.”
“Naw. You’ve got enough for the three of us.”
“Where’s Rick tonight anyway?”
Brandon did as DJ, scanning the crowd for their middle brother. Rick handled the club’s finances for the owner, and, although he sometimes worked Saddles as a combination bouncer-bartender like his brothers, he preferred hiding back in the office with his nose buried in ledgers and his fingers on his keyboard pounding out numbers. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him tonight.”
“Should I go look in the office?”
Brandon shook his head. “Later. Right now we need to give Luther a lecture on his lack of taste. Get back to your side of the room. I’m going to get Luther to take my spot.”
Being the oldest of three brothers, Brandon often took the leadership role. Sometimes that was a good thing, and sometimes it wasn’t. He often wished he could take it easy and let his brothers handle things. But giving up control was hard.
“Hey, guys!” Rick, wearing his usual attire of a T-shirt and jeans like his brothers, worked his way through the crowd toward them.
“That answers the question of where he is.”
Rick grabbed both his brothers, spinning them around as he continued to move toward the hallway leading toward the office.
Brandon and DJ jerked out of his grip. Brandon clutched his brother, making him slow down and face him. “What’s gotten into you?”
Rick’s face was lit up with his smile. “I just heard great news.”
Brandon exchanged a quick glance with DJ. “What news?”
Rick’s grin grew even bigger. “Our ranch. Or at least the ranch we’ve been waiting for. All we have to do is buy it.”
Chapter Two
The three brothers moved to a corner of the bar. If Rob saw them huddled together when they should’ve been spread out taking care of customers, he’d chew out their butts. But what Rick said had them too keyed up to worry too much about their boss.
“Spill. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Is this about Windy Hills?” Brandon pushed down the excitement, forcing his tone to stay level. There was no need to get all fired up if it was a rumor. Or worse, if it had already sold. They’d had it happen before. Right after they’d found a ranch they could afford, it had sold right out from under them. Later they’d considered that a lucky break, since that had happened before they’d found Windy Hills Ranch.
“How’d you find out about it?” DJ stared intensely at his brother. “Come on, Rick. Details.”
“Just hold your horses. I’m getting to it.” But the gleam in Rick’s eyes said he couldn’t wait to tell them.
“Don’t try to hide it, man. We saw your face. This is big.”
“DJ’s right, and you’re wasting time.” Brandon leaned closer and shifted enough to bring out his werewolf hearing.
“Okay, here it is. I was checking the listings outside the realty office, seeing nothing worth our time and money, when, all at once, Milton Harper poked his nose out the door and crooks his finger at me.”
“Unless you’re about to out yourself, this isn’t what we need to know.” Brandon clenched his teeth, determined not to shake the information out of Rick although he wanted to do exactly that.
“I followed Harper into his office, and he shut his door. I knew it was going to be good then.”
DJ and Brandon stayed quiet, waiting impatiently.
“Okay, so Harper grabs the chair next to me and tells me that what he’s about to say is highly confidential.” Rick glanced around him and lowered his voice. “It’s not official or anything, but word has it that Windy Hills is going up for sale.”
Brandon eased back, almost afraid to believe that Rick had confirmed it. “You’re kidding. That’s got to be a joke. John Cumming would never sell his place.”
“Harper was adamant about this. He said Cumming is putting it up for exclusive bid and not going through the usual realty listings. The bids will be sealed, then opened in a public meeting. Rumor has it that he’s letting his daughter pick the winner.”
“Are you serious? That old fart has a daughter?” DJ made a face. “Poor kid probably never saw the light of day. He probably had her locked up studying the stock market instead of playing with dolls.”
“Not the point. So when are bids being accepted?” But could they make an offer? The Cumming place was well over a hundred acres of prime real estate. Even if was true about it going up for sale, the price had to be more than they could afford.
“He didn’t know for sure. The bad thing is that they aren’t accepting offers that have a down payment. It’s a buy-it-all-right-now-or-you’re-out-of-luck deal.” Rick nodded to his left, bringing their attention to Rob as he rounded the corner from the hallway and came into the main club area. “Cumming, his daughter, and his lawyers are meeting right now. I told Harper to give me a call as soon as it’s open for bids. Until then, split up before Rob sees us.”
* * * *
Heather Cumming checked her schedule on her phone again. Her client had skipped town, leaving her to inform the authorities and show up at his court date alone. It was bad enough that she’d had to appear in court without her client, but she hated that she’d wasted time with someone who hadn’t appreciated her pro-bono services. Her work in her father’s company was boring and left her feeling unfulfilled, so helping people who couldn’t afford a good attorney eased the day-to-day drudgery of being a lawyer at Cumming International.
“Damn it, Russo. Why the hell did you skip out?” She’d had a solid case to get him off his robbery charge, but that went out the window with his no-show. She didn’t mind fronting his bail and giving her services for free, but it sucked when someone gave her the shaft, especially when she could’ve helped another more appreciative person instead.
Her stomach had flipped over when she’d noted the judge’s name assigned to Russo’s case. Judge Natzin. Why did she always get Judge Nazi instead of one of the more lenient judges? Her fellow lawyers hadn’t stuck the old man with the awful nickname
for nothing. He was as unforgiving as a hunting dog with his teeth sunk in the hind leg of a rabbit. She’d yet to win a case whenever Judge Nazi was in charge, and showing up in his courtroom without her client hadn’t earned her any favors. But at least it was over.
Still, she’d have to face the music as soon as possible. Her father expected her in a meeting, and no one let the Great John Cumming down. God knew what he was up to now. He liked to surprise her with new acquisitions, takeovers, and more, leaving her with the job of fulfilling his demands.
Plopping down on one of the lush sofas lining the hallway leading into the largest conference room of the local Cumming International office building, she blew a strand of her hair out of her face and, not for the first time, gave serious consideration to finding another profession. But also not for the first time, she knew she’d never quit working for those who needed her. She was a sucker for hard-luck cases and loved doing pro-bono work. Still, if she could quit her job at her father’s company…but her father would blow his top, and she wasn’t willing to fight him. One day, if she found something that would make quitting worth bearing the wrath of John Cumming, then she’d tell Dear Old Dad to take his job and shove it.
She’d fast-tracked through school, graduating high school early by age sixteen and then college at age nineteen. Before she’d turned twenty-three, she’d already graduated at the top of her class, passed the bar exam, and had turned down several offers from prestigious law firms because her father had summoned her to work for him. And, like the dutiful daughter she’d always been, she’d done as he’d wanted her to do. But, unlike her father, she cared more about helping her clients navigate the confusing aspects of the criminal law system than making the big bucks. She leaned against the cushions and closed her eyes.
He’d given her a choice. Either move in with him in the God-awful house he’d purchased in the wealthiest part of Passion or stay at the family townhouse. It was an easy choice, and she’d jumped at the rare generous offer. One day she’d have to move out and get her own place, but not right now. She loved Passion with its boutiques, art galleries, and restaurants ranging from the most lavish to the simple hot dog stand, but she couldn’t have withstood living with her father. Instead, she’d moved to the townhouse, so she could visit Windy Hills Ranch outside Passion whenever she wanted—as long as her father didn’t find out. He didn’t like her visiting the ranch or her mother’s grave. Fortunately, he traveled a lot, giving her frequent doses of the freedom she craved.
