She smiled and slid up his body. Braxton forked his fingers through her hair and pulled her into a deep kiss, tasting himself on her tongue.
She pulled back and smiled as she watched him under her lashes. “Did I do okay?”
“That was the best blow job I’d ever had.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” It was the truth.
“Hey, Kate. I need to use your washing machine,” Granny called out from the other side of the locked door and jiggled the door knob. “Why is this door locked?”
Kate scrambled for her clothes, tugging them on. “Just a minute, Granny.” She glared at him as he slid his jeans up over his hips. “Hurry up!” She threw his T-shirt at his face.
Still in the slow afterglow of his orgasm, he couldn’t make his limbs move any faster. Had fate fucked him one more time, giving him the woman of his dreams only to snatch her away? Pack Law clearly stated that wolves mated wolves. End of story.
Which meant his life just got a little more complicated.
***
Braxton and Damon pulled into Eureka Springs just after dark. Braxton put Kate’s SUV in park and surveyed the near-empty streets in the small town. The snow had probably kept most people at home, but there were still a few locals scurrying along on the side streets, trying to find the closest restaurant to pop in for a drink and seeking shelter against the brutal winter wind.
“We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. Riding into town doesn’t fit into that description.” Damon scowled.
Braxton white-knuckled the steering wheel in a death grip. “I need to find my father’s killer to clear my name before the Assassins find me. I can’t do that by sitting around on my ass all fucking day. Besides, I had to get out of the house. I think one of those writers tried to get into the bathroom while I was taking a shower.”
“I hear ya.” Damon let out a shiver. He nodded out the window. “You really think your father’s killer is in Eureka Springs?”
“No. But there is a biker bar in town that caters to Weres, and I want to know if anyone there knows anything.”
“What they probably know is that those fucking Assassins are coming for you. They had to pass through here before they caught up and shot you.” Damon slipped his Oakleys over his eyes. Braxton wondered if Damon really liked the glasses or if he wanted to look more intimidating. Knowing the wolf, probably both.
“I don’t know a single Were that likes Assassins.”
“And I don’t know a single Were, that when cornered, wouldn’t hesitate to give up your location or information about a wanted target.” Damon looked over his glasses. “Right now, you’re the target.”
“Glad to see you have complete trust in the Were species.”
“Fuck you.” Damon showed him the back of his middle finger.
“Like I said, brother, not my type.” Braxton pulled into the parking lot of the bar right off the main drag.
He eased out of the SUV and made his way up the rickety wooden steps leading into the bar with Damon following close behind. Like the rest of the small town, the bar was built around the top of the mountain, curving to fit nature’s own landscape.
The scent of whiskey, stale beer, and cigarettes hit Braxton like a wall the second he stepped inside. Having worked in a bar most of his adult life, he’d come to welcome those scents. Now, after being in the fresh air at Kate’s house, those same scents made him want to gag. The change of scenery seemed to have changed his tastes as well.
Braxton sidled up to the bar with Damon flanking him. The bartender gave him a nod of acknowledgement from where he was busy pouring a round of shots.
“What can I do for you guys?” The bartender rested his beefy arms on the counter while his slit-like eyes assessed both of them.
“Jack.” Damon angled his body where his back wasn’t to the door and kept his gaze sweeping the room.
Braxton smiled. For the brief time he’d known the guy, Damon never sat with his back to the door. The wolf trusted no one.
“Beer.” Braxton leaned against the bar and took a cursory glance around the darkened room.
The tables and booths were full of Weres, mainly males with a couple of females sitting in their laps.
“You guys new to the area? Or just passing through?” The bartender slid their drinks across the counter.
“Passing through.” Braxton looked the Were in the eye.
“Well, if I were you, I’d keep going.” The bartender wiped the counter with a bar towel.
“Why is that?” Damon leaned closer.
“’Cause there’s been some trouble in town. A murder.” The bartender cocked his head. “Cops around here don’t think it was someone in town. Which makes everyone passing through a suspect.”
“Did you know the guy that was killed?” Braxton took a long drink of his beer.
The bartender shrugged. “I’d seen him around. He tried to come in here a couple of times but quickly realized he didn’t exactly fit in.”
“Because he wasn’t a Were?” Braxton arched his brow.
“Because he was an asshole.”