But also…
He didn’t like that Trina had trouble getting in the door because of the Wulfe Clan fuckin’ with her. She was in heat and likely had been singing an unintentional siren song to these asshole’s dicks.
So, he dug deep and found his chivalry. He would make it safe for her to leave.
The second he stepped outside, he made his way past the Clan, knocking two in the shoulder. He assured them, “We have a problem now.”
The Alpha, Darius, laughed and asked, “Are you fuckin’ serious, Lone Wolf? There’s one of you and a dozen of us.”
Huh. The prick was right.
So Kade pulled the rings off his fingers so it would be a fair fight.
Chapter Two
He was beating the shit out of the entire Wulfe Clan.
Trina stood there plastered to the front window with her mouth hanging open. Who was this guy? She’d smelled him before she’d seen him. Definitely a dominant werewolf. She would know that scent of fur anywhere. The Wulfe Clan had been badgering her since she went into heat a few days ago, and he’d smelled just like the rest, only bigger. Or maybe he just felt bigger. And also sick. He felt off, like he was head-sick. His rapidly changing eye color from silver to blue and blue to silver backed up her instincts. He hadn’t even hid his crazy eyes either. Just sat down, stared at her directly, and talked like they’d known each other for a year.
Hot guy for a werewolf. He had longer hair that hung down in his eyes, but short on the sides. He wore a leather cut and a black T-shirt, both of which he was currently removing, and hoooooolyyyyy shit, Lone Wolf was ripped. Not just a hard body, but hard like a metal statue of a body builder. Was that an eight-pack? She counted real quick before he spun away from her and blasted one of the Wulfe Clan across the jaw. That dude went down like a sack of dog shit, which was exactly how she’d seen every werewolf before now. This was awesome. He leveled two more. Trina laughed and looked around. Was anyone else seeing this? She could leave here with no problems by stepping over the bedraggled carcasses of an entire Clan. She should video this.
But when she aimed her phone, Owen cleared his throat behind her. “Eleven-two is the best we can do.”
Oh, Lone Wolf was good. “Make it eleven, and I’ll sign the paperwork and pay in cash right now.”
“Deal,” he said quickly. “Aw maaaan,” he drawled, standing beside her and watching the fight. “Second time this week.”
“That you know of,” she murmured, grinning at the Lone Wolf who was now on top of one of the remaining men, pummeling the life out of him. That man was a fighter, fast as fuck, and he didn’t do the expected. As highlighted by him stopping mid-punch to reach out and yank the leg of a man who was charging him. The wolf went off balance and landed on his ass. Was Lone Wolf laughing? Yep, he was dribbling blood from a split lip and wearing the biggest grin, like he’d never had so much fun. Short scruff on his face, blindingly silver eyes, great smile if she ignored all the blood, and built like a Mack truck. He had tattoos down one arm and perfectly puckered man nipples. He had pecs etched like stone and strips of muscle over his hips that dove into his low-slung jeans and created a V-shape to his hotboy body.
Seriously, who was this guy?
Her cougar was practically panting. God, she needed to settle down. It was just her heat, that’s all. If she wasn’t in season, she wouldn’t be lusting after a volatile werewolf. No way. She made better life decisions than that.
Ripping her gaze away from the fight actually took some effort.
“If you come this way, we can start on the paperwork,” Owen said.
“Sweet, I could use the dickstraction.”
“Did you just say dickstraction?” Owen asked, walking beside her.
“Uh, no. I said dickstraction.” Oh, hell. She cleared her throat and enunciated primly, “Distraction.”
Leading her to the sales station at the back, Owen tossed a frown over his shoulder at the fight and shook his head. He gave her a pamphlet on the riding classes they offered and then introduced her to the finance manager, Garth.
By the end of all that, she was rushing to sign the last four pages. Why? Because her cougar was a little horn-ball who wanted to go see how the fight had ended up. She didn’t know anything about that man other than his Clan, and she wasn’t in a rush to track down Ethan Blackwood. All she wanted to do was thank the man for helping her haggle the price of the motorcycle. And for beating up the Wulfe Clan. And maybe silently thank his momma for makin’ a man like him because, holy sheeyit, she was still thinking about his defined hip muscles. She bet he was really good at humping. Humping? Good grief, girl, get a grip.
After she finished up, the proud new owner of a Sportster Superlow, she rushed to the front window to find him long gone, along with the Clan. All that remained were small blood-puddles on the concrete. With a little sigh of disappointment, Trina made her way back to the gathering sales members. They rang a bell to signify her new life as a Harley owner.
Today had been different from the string of identical days over the last few months.
Today had been blood and wolves and confusion and Harleys.
Today had been a beautiful distraction from all the crap that had gone wrong in the last year.
Today had been excitement and a breath of fresh air, thanks to one mysterious werewolf.
Too bad he was crazy.
Chapter Three
“No smoking!” Trina yelled as a local sauntered through the front door of the GutShot with a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“What? Since when?” he asked around the smoke-stick.
“Since the sign on the door said so.” She set down the glass she was drying and jammed a finger at the No Smoking sign.
“What is this one?” he asked, gesturing to a sign with a logo of a pregnant squirrel standing on her hind legs, cradling her swollen belly.
“Well, that one was a bit much,” Tenlee said with a sigh as she stretched her arms and stuck the swell of her belly out farther.
“It means there’s pregnant shifters in here, and you’ll have to smoke out on the porch,” Trina demanded.
“A squirrel shifter gets more rights than me now?” the man asked rudely.
“Yep, and now I’m not serving you, so why don’t you take your precious cigarette and fuck off to somewhere else.”
“I’ve been coming here for years!”
“Don’t care. Don’t let the door hit you where the good lord split you, Bart.”
“Trina,” Tenlee murmured, “stop chasing off all the customers. Bart, come on in. The rules of the bar have just changed a little, but it’s still the same old GutShot. I’ll get you a glass of whiskey.”
“Thank you,” Bart said with a snort at Trina. “At least some shifters pretend to have manners.”
Trina flipped him off and went back to drying glasses while Tenlee closed the cover of her math book and waddled around to the back of the bar top.
“Remind me again why trigonometry is so important,” Tenlee grumbled.
“It’s not. But you wanted your GED before the baby comes, so you get to muddle your way through that crap like the rest of us had to do.”
“You’re a grumpy little cuss when you’re in heat.”
“Need. Dick.”
Tenlee laughed and poured Bart a glass of the cheapest whiskey The GutShot carried. “What about Kasey?”
“A crow shifter? No spanks.”
“A human?”
“Nope, nope, nope. I would break them.”
“Okay, Miss Picky, the big predator shifters around here are all paired up, and their ain’t no unmated mountain lions left but you and your dad, so I’m out of suggestions.”