Tequila and Tigers: Book Two: Shifters and Sins

by Lane, Cecilia

  Jensen tossed a warm smile to his mate, then turned back to Wyatt. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s not your call what others will accept. Don’t fight the tough woman that wants to give you her heart.”

  Wyatt lined up a snarky response and prepared to shoot his mouth off when he glanced up at the front door opening with a new arrival.

  Scratch that, three.

  Russ and Bennett flanked Harris fucking Ayers.

  Fuck. He should have known Russ and Bennett would run back to Harris the moment Alanna showed her face. Just like he should have been prepared for the old bastard to let it get under his skin. Wyatt and Alanna together messed with him hard enough to frame a murder before. Old wounds like that didn’t close.

  He knew that himself. His inner beast snarled at Harris. Wanted to rip into him right there without a care for the witnesses.

  Harris sauntered slowly through the bar, running his eyes over the details of the scene. Russ and Bennett elbowed aside paying customers so their boss could walk right up without a wait.

  Harris smirked. “So my men didn’t lie. You are back in my territory.”

  Wyatt cocked a hip against the bar and folded his arms over his chest. “Your territory? Claiming the entire town now, you greedy fuck?”

  Anger flickered in Harris’s eyes. “I represent a number of powerful individuals in town—”

  “So you have a fresh new crop of alphas under your thumb. Same story, still don’t give a shit.” Wyatt jerked his chin over Harris’s shoulder. “Get out of here unless you’re prepared to face me yourself.”

  His hands tightened to fists. His wolf rippled under his skin. He wanted the fight. Needed it.

  The fucker in front of him had taken his life, his Alanna, thirteen years with his cub. Now he turned up with his shit-eating grin like he hadn’t tried to kill him?

  He wanted to beat the man’s face against the bar until he admitted the truth. Then he wanted to end the fucker.

  Coward couldn’t even face him alone. He had to do it in public, no doubt hoping he could yank some sort of reaction out of Wyatt. Too bad he’d rather swallow nails than let the fucker goad him into anything.

  “Your arrogance hasn’t deserted you, I see.”

  “Surviving a bullshit execution order will do that to a man.”

  “Perhaps we can come to some arrangement. Many have forgotten the case against you in light of your... helpful,” Harris’s lips pulled down in a frown before he returned to a neutral expression, “retaking of the town. Maybe they don’t need reminding.”

  Wyatt narrowed his eyes. Had the fucker been in bed with the Slayers?

  Near the door, Ellis stiffened. His eyes roamed over the room, but Wyatt felt the attention settle on him. Jensen, too, tensed at the other end of the bar. His alpha had halted his path to his mate to stay for the threats.

  “And why would you offer me that, Harris? We both know you don’t do charity.”

  “You will leave my daughter and her offspring alone.”

  Fuck that. The order got his back up and shifted his entire world. He would probably disappoint Alanna and Atticus a thousand times and make them hate him a million more, but he’d shoulder those burdens before he let Harris fucking Ayers order him around.

  Wyatt’s wolf shoved to the surface with a growl. His skin itched and tightened with the need to shift. Sendings battered at him, each one showing the tiger sprawled on the ground with blood seeping from his limbs. Torn apart was too good for the fucker.

  He let his inner beast bleed into his eyes. “Won’t be so easy this time to get me out of town.”

  Harris smirked again, the slimy twitch of his lips not reaching his eyes. “Do you know why this town is named Redwater?”

  “I can’t wait for a history lesson steeped in euphemism.” Wyatt held up a finger. “Hold on, let me grab a pen and paper to take notes on whatever bullshit is about to spill from your mouth.”

  “Because my streak has been here from the beginning. We fought for our rights to this land. We paid with blood—ours and any who came against us. We didn’t stop until the waters ran red. And so the town was born. Under Ayers control.”

  His wolf rattled through his head hard enough that Wyatt almost ceded control. Chasing Harris from the bar would be worth the looks of horror on the faces of onlookers. He didn’t even care if he got in a bite. He just wanted to see the mask of human decency slip from the fucker’s face.

  “Must burn your ass when you’re not bowed to by your own daughter. Have you even met your grandson? Or should I say, my cub?” Wyatt clicked his tongue. “Oh, he’s going to be raised right. Not a single fucking tiger tale in his ears for the rest of his life. You fucked with my family once. You’re not doing it again.”

  Harris rapped his knuckles against the bar twice and turned for the door. Over his shoulder and with another mask of pleasantness that just didn’t capture the emotion, Harris added, “I do love a good challenge.”

  Chapter 7

  Alanna let water rain down over her and relax tense muscles. Her tigress pressed forward with the urge to clear the hell out of the shower. The beast had been restless all day, starting the moment Alanna’s eyes shot open in the early morning hours. No matter how much she willed time to pass quickly, the minutes at work ticked at glacial speed.

  And now that the time had almost arrived, she didn’t know what to do with herself.

  Alanna bit back a strangled note at all the nerves blossoming in her stomach. There was nothing to casual dinner conversation centered around shared interests. So it’d been thirteen years since she’d had dinner with Wyatt. He was still just a man.

  A man who made her pulse race and her tigress purr. And the father of her cub.

  Her eyes shot open. Crap. She didn’t have anything planned for dinner.

  Was pizza out of the question? She didn’t want to reward Atticus with his favorite food while on suspension, but formally meeting his father seemed as good a time as any for relaxing the rules. And Wyatt looked like he’d prefer something simple over a meal consisting of multiple courses of entrees, side dishes, and desserts.

  Plus, pizza felt more like having the home field advantage and less like a date.

  If Wyatt even showed. And if he didn’t, well, Atticus could use a little extra comfort in the form of food. They both could.

  Once Alanna was out of the shower, she put in a call to the local delivery place. Then she padded through the kitchen and into the living room.

  She’d braced herself for a fight when she returned home that afternoon, only to find Atticus had straightened the whole house. Vacuum trails lined the carpet. The throw pillows and blanket on the couch were neatly positioned. He’d even set the table with three plates and folded napkins on the sides.

  She wasn’t the only one raw with nerves, it seemed.

  Alanna stared hard at the triple settings, gut churning uncomfortably. Skies above, she hoped Wyatt didn’t bail on their date.

  Not date.

  Family dinner and therapy session, more accurately.

  Hell, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d gone on a date.

  Scratch that. It’d been when Atticus was eight and at the start of his first and only season of little league baseball. One of the other fathers asked her out, which turned into a team lunch with no time for talking just between them. Then he’d asked her to coordinate the lunches for the rest of the season because she was a natural caregiver.

  She’d never been more thankful for her spunky, rebellious boy’s rejection of all things normal than when he refused to sign up the next year.

  A knock at the door sent her flying from the kitchen.

  What if this was all a mistake? What if she set herself and Atticus up for a truckload of hurt?

  Her tigress stretched through her. Sendings flashed and Alanna picked through the frames like they were the wreckage of her life. Snapshots of her and Wyatt littered her mind. The few high school dances she’d dragged him to.
Her hair flowing behind her as he raced them down an empty stretch of road on his motorcycle. Kisses, so many kisses, the kind that coiled heat through her core and curled her toes.

  Then there he was, standing in her doorway. He wore a plain black shirt that clung to his frame, making the muscles of his arms look larger. Fresh soap mingled with his scent from his shower and a shave that just couldn’t get rid of the scruff on his cheeks. Or maybe that was done on purpose, along with the mess of his hair.

  Her tigress pushed forward, eyes latched onto the only male she’d ever deemed worthy. Alanna felt the beast lick her lips and prepare to pounce.

  Wyatt brushed his hair back and shoved something at her.

  Alanna glanced down and chuckled at the six-pack of beer, the same kind he’d smuggled out when they skipped picture day together so many years ago.

  “You didn’t need to get me anything.” She reached forward, her fingers gliding over his to wrap around the handle. Warmth flared at the touch and washed over all her nerves.

  Wyatt’s pupils blew wide. “Noelle said it would be a nice gesture. I didn’t know if you liked wine, so this seemed like a safe bet.”

  “Is that the pizza?” Atticus peeled around the corner and pulled to an awkward stop.

  Alanna pulled her hand away from Wyatt and added another step between them before locking her legs. She was a grown woman and had no reason to hide. But she also didn’t want to give Atticus any false impressions.

  The whole situation was a giant damn mess.

  Wyatt saved her with a small flash of a smile and a simmering look.

  “Hey, punk. I brought you something, too,” he greeted their son. He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “The very best bands are on this list. Listen carefully, and listen loudly.”

  “Cool.” Atticus scanned the list, then flicked a glance up at his father. “Thanks.”

  Awkward seconds passed with all three crowding the doorway and staring at one another before they broke into action.

  Atticus tried to shuffle off to his room. Alanna tried to take the beer from Wyatt. Wyatt tried to close the door behind him, only to catch the delivery driver charging up the stairs.

  Dammit. The scene was more awkward than their first few dates. At least then they had disapproving stares to hide from. The only stares they currently had to fend off were from the wide-eyed pizza guy who wouldn’t take his eyes off Alanna and Atticus who looked at everyone like they were insane.

  All the while, her tigress licked her paws in satisfied amusement.

  With the driver finally paid and pizza boxes laid out on the table, the mixed up family took their seats.

  “So you knew each other when you were teenagers?” Atticus asked.

  Wyatt shot her a questioning look as he plopped a slice of pizza on his plate. “We did.”

  “And then you left before I was born. Don’t look at her; look at me. I’m the man around here.”

  Alanna nearly jumped up and slammed a hand over her son’s disrespectful mouth. Then he slid her a look. The look. The one he passed to his friends when he thought he was being a clever little punk. And—damn him—he usually was.

  “Well? Why did you abandon us?”

  Wyatt’s eyebrows rose as he turned his attention to Alanna. For her part, she covered her chuckle with her hands and shrugged up a shoulder.

  “He asked you a question,” she said.

  “We parted on bad terms,” Wyatt growled. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, then glared at her and Atticus both. “Then I left everything behind. I made the dumb teenager mistake of thinking it better for everyone to believe I was dead.”

  “What are your opinions on violence in video games?” Atticus glanced down at his lap. “Do you feel the same about it in books or on TV?”

  Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. His shoulder sank to one side like he fished for something out of sight and then jerked straight. Atticus tried to snatch back the slip of paper between Wyatt’s fingers, but Wyatt twisted his big body to the side and started reading.

  “‘Have you been touched by the noodly appendage of the Flying Spaghetti Monster?’” He frowned something close to disapproval and not far from bafflement at their son. “Are you giving me shit, boy?”

  “Door’s that way if you can’t take it.” Atticus shoved a piece of pizza in his mouth and grinned while he chewed.

  “No wonder your mother told me she wanted to sell you to the circus,” Wyatt muttered under his breath.

  “You told him what?”

  “It’s not like you’d have to stay working as the elephant poo scooper. I’m sure you could work your way up to head clown one day,” Alanna answered with a shrug and bite.

  Wyatt snorted a laugh and earned a glare from Atticus, which made Alanna laugh. Atticus glared harder and sulked for an entire slice before the mood lifted.

  The two made a silent truce, knowing the waters had been tested. Neither would easily retreat when prodded, but there wasn’t any lasting anger, either.

  They slipped into conversation about bands and albums that Alanna followed greedily. Wyatt had introduced her to all the same groups Atticus talked excitedly about, but she was just an uncool mom. Admittedly, after years of listening to Ginny’s old tunes at the bakery, she’d lost her rocker edge, but Atticus started her downfall. Driving around town trying to get the infant to sleep didn’t pair well with the angry wailing of artists. Especially when the kid saw the noise as competition over who could scream the loudest.

  Seeing them connect was such a huge relief and pleasure, she couldn’t find even a hint of jealousy that Wyatt got to share something Atticus wouldn’t accept from her.

  When all three boxes had been picked clean, Alanna turned to her son. “Did you get all your schoolwork done?”

  Atticus scowled. “It’s not like it’s due tomorrow. I won’t be back until next week.”

  “And why is that, I wonder? Could it have anything to do with getting into another fight? Suspension is supposed to be punishment, not vacation.”

  Atticus rolled his eyes, then focused on his lap. “Fine,” he groaned and grudgingly got to his feet.

  He took his time pushing in his chair, but when she didn’t change her mind and Wyatt didn’t add to his defense, he slunk down the hall to his room. The door clicked closed—no slam, for once—and music screamed to life a second later.

  Alanna rose and gathered the plates. Once they were tucked into the sink, she turned into the reason her shoulders prickled. Wyatt’s gaze trailed up her body with a perusal that left her mouth dry.

  “Beer?” she asked.

  “Now you’re speaking my language.”

  She popped the caps on two and opened the door to the balcony. Wyatt followed her outside and took his bottle with a grateful smile.

  Alanna tried to put her thoughts into order. The air she’d hoped would cut down on Wyatt’s scent did nothing when they were within arm’s length of one another. The heavy beat of Atticus’s music made the silence between them that much more palpable.

  They were utterly alone together for the first time in years.

  Chills raised the fine hairs up and down her body. Her tigress stopped her restless prowling to drink in the sense of Wyatt at her side.

  “Honestly,” he said after a moment, “I never got the whole suspension thing. Keeping me in class would have been a bigger punishment than sending me home.”

  “I think they count on parents having some sort of control of the situation. Which is a complete and total fantasy, in my experience.”

  “I think you’ve done okay. From my limited observation.”

  “He wants to impress you. He even vacuumed before I came home. That’s a pretty big miracle.”

  Wyatt turned his head slightly and watched her from the side of his eye while he took a swallow of his beer. “I am impressed,” he said quietly.

  Alanna watched his throat bob with another pull of his drink, a flush working over her
cheeks. She broke the line caught tight between them and sank into a patio chair. Her tigress vibrated inside her with a purr strong enough to crack her apart.

  The relief was temporary as Wyatt’s scent strengthened. He crossed the few steps from the screened edge of the balcony to the empty seat with only a small table between them. He set his bottle down with a hard clink.

  “He, ah... came to see me.”

  “He did what?” Her eyebrows shot up and she pushed to her feet. “I’m putting bars on his damn windows and door.”

  “Alanna.” Wyatt reached forward and grabbed her wrist. “Hold up. Don’t go running in there, mad as hell.”

  “How did he—I don’t even know where you live.”

  “He got into the office before I caught him, apparently. Took down my information from some paper in there.” Pride and amusement danced in his eyes before he settled his expression. “He needed to check me out. Hell, I’d probably have done the same thing to a new man in my mom’s life at that age. He just wants to know everything is on the up-and-up.”

  The light in his eyes eased her back against her seat. “Well, are you? On the up-and-up?”

  “Oh, no.” Wyatt shook his head with a smirk. “Absolute devil over here.”

  “So that hasn’t changed.”

  “Alanna...” he sat forward, forearms resting on his thighs. He pressed his fingertips together and flexed his hands. Relaxed. Pressed them together again. “I’ve done bad shit, okay? I didn’t settle down in one place after I ran. Those first couple of years were rough, then got rougher when I joined an MC. That’s who I am. Drinking and fighting and dirty deeds to fuel both. I could just as easily been part of the club that was chased out of town than the one howling at their heels.”

  “That’s who you were.” He turned stunned, confused eyes on her, but she continued. “That’s who you all used to be, right? The new pack running the bar? The ballsy shifters who stood up to the Slayers and threw them out of Redwater? Yeah, gossip gets around here fast. Those men rode in on their motorcycles and still tear around town with those monster engines. But all the bad the Slayers brought with them has shriveled up.”