Pack Challenge

  “You work here long?” He looked around the impressive store. Marrec did some amazing work. There were custom-made bikes here he’d seen on the pages of some of his chopper magazines. They weren’t merely bikes. They were pieces of art.

  “Since I was fourteen. Marrec said it would keep me off the streets.”

  Zach glanced out the window to what had to be the quietest town he’d ever been in. “Big gang problem around here? Lots of cow jacking?”

  “We have all sorts pass through our little town, thank you very much. Bikers. Cowboys. The always dangerous rodeo clowns.”

  “Rodeo clowns?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  Zach shrugged. “I don’t want to know.”

  “Any other condescending questions about my town?”

  “Oh, I’m not being condescending. I’m very interested in your tiny little town, with its tiny little people. I bet you guys even have a movie theater.”

  Sara barked out a laugh. “You certainly are a charmer.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “By who? Your mother?”

  “She does adore her son.” He looked out the window again. “I thought there’d be desert. Coyotes. Clint Eastwood.”

  “You’re in Hill Country. We have rivers, canyons and forests. You want desert, you need to hit the Panhandle.”

  Zach leaned across the counter and smiled at her. “You’ll have to show me around some time.”

  “I have been known to go off alone with strange bikers,” she responded sarcastically. “It’s a thing I do. Like eating glass.”

  “Does this mean you won’t go out with me tonight?” Wait. Why are you asking her out? Probably because she was a major piece of ass and looked like she could suck a golf ball through a hose.

  “No. That means I won’t be showing you around my town.”

  “So you will go out with me tonight.” He didn’t phrase that as a question. He didn’t want her to think it was an option.

  That didn’t seem to mean much to her, though, as she smirked and said, “I’m not going out with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have sense.”

  He heard the front door open and she frowned.

  “Oh, shit,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Well, hello, all.”

  Angelina walked up to the counter, a brown paper bag in her hand. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  “He’s here to pick up that girl’s bike.”

  “The one who crashed?” Angelina glanced at Zach. “How is she doing anyway?”

  “Right as rain.”

  “That’s interesting,” Angelina said, thoughtful. “She’s a mighty fast healer.”

  “That she is.”

  Angelina turned back to Sara. “I came to drop this off. Didn’t want Miki to see.” Sara took the paper bag and looked inside.

  “Christ!” She slammed the bag shut and tossed it into an open backpack behind her. “I hate you.”

  “Just watching out for my friends.” Angelina turned and strode out of the store. “See ya at the party, Zach.”

  “Bye.” He didn’t turn around, too busy staring at the blush creeping up Sara’s neck and straight to her hairline. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” she bit out way too quickly. “Just fine.”

  Zach wasn’t buying it. “Can I see what’s in the bag?”

  “No!” She almost yelled it. “Tampons.”

  “I’m ready,” Marrec called from his workshop. “Send him back.”

  “You better go.” She tried to shoo him from the room.

  “You know,” Zach moved toward the workshop entrance, “when my sister and I were teenagers, she always threw out ‘tampon’ when she didn’t want Dad to see our bag of pot. But you and your friends seem amazingly straight edge to me. So it makes me wonder…what’s really in that bag?”

  Zach backed into the workshop as Sara’s face turned a darker crimson. Then he hit a wall and turned around to find that wall was actually Marrec.

  “Having fun?” Marrec asked, his arms folded across what might be a normal chest for a bear. The man was short but powerfully built. Red wolves were always a little “stunty”, though.

  “Loads.”

  “You know her father died when she was very young.”

  Of course he did. That’s why they were here in the first place.

  “And I kind of took his place. She’s as close to me as any of my daughters. And I’ll kill any man who fucks with her.”

  Zach wondered if Marrec already had. “Good to know.”

  Once Zach disappeared in the back, Sara shoved the bag filled with boxes—and boxes!—of condoms into her backpack. She was going to kill Angelina when she saw her.

  She had one friend throwing condoms at her and the other telling her men were nothing but trouble. But as much shit as the three of them talked, they probably knew less about men than anyone on the planet. They all had their own ways of keeping people at bay. Miki had her intense distrust of…well, everyone. Angelina had her fortress of ice. And Sara had her armor. They’d all destroyed potential relationships in record time and without much regret. And although they never discussed it, none of them ever really believed they’d find true love or romance or any of that other crap.

  So why did Sara feel like Zach was somehow different? What was it about him that spoke to her on some other level the few men she’d had in her oh-so-tame past never could? Why did she itch to touch his skin? To feel him touch her? What was it about this man that made her feel like she’d been waiting her entire life for him to come walking through her door?

  What was it about this man that made her want to punch him right in the forehead?

  Marrec moved over to the bike he’d readied for Julie.

  Zach kicked the door to the workshop closed, ensuring Sara couldn’t hear the conversation. “I have a question.”

  Marrec leaned against the bike, his arms again crossed in front of his chest. “Why didn’t I turn her myself?”

  “It would make sense.”

  “Her grandmother. The craziest bitch I’ve ever met on two feet or four. Did Sara tell you what she found in her house when she cleaned it out?”

  Zach nodded. “Yeah. She did.”

  “When my oldest boy showed interest in Sara, she set my car on fire. She said after that it would be my house.”

  Zach felt a growing sense of horror for this woman’s self-hatred. He couldn’t imagine his life without the Pack. Without being who he was.

  “If only she would have shifted, I would have snapped her neck. But I wasn’t going to kill her as human.”

  Zach didn’t blame him. Kill one of them as human, they stayed human. Kill them as beast and they stayed beast. In the end, much easier to explain the dead animal on your territory to the cops.

  “So, I figured I’d wait until the old bitch died on her own. I just didn’t know she’d take so long to do it.”

  “She’s in a lot of pain, you know.”

  Marrec sighed. A sad one from deep inside his chest. “I know. And her aggression is getting worse, too.” Marrec grabbed a stack of papers off the counter behind the bike. “To be honest, I think it’s poison.” He handed the papers to Zach.

  “Poison?”

  “The Withell Pride is known for dipping their claws in poison. Prolongs the agony.”

  “That’s very human of them,” Zach noted with disgust.

  “But I can’t get her near a doctor. Her grandmother made sure of that. The girl’s terrified of anything medical.”

  Zach flipped through the bill of sale and other paperwork Marrec handed him. “What would she need done?”

  “It’s a little barbaric…she’d have to be bled. But several of the docs at the hospital are part of my Pack so it wouldn’t be a problem.” Marrec shook his head. “But not until she knows who and what she is. If we just turn her, I’m afraid of what she’ll do. Maybe I’ll talk with Yates about it. About the timing.?
??

  Zach nodded, keeping his expression purposely blank. “Sure. Whatever.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sara barely moved back in time as a biker from the next town stepped in front of her so he could talk to Angie.

  “Uh…excuse me?” she asked, even while laughing.

  He looked at her like she’d just appeared out of thin air. “Oh. Hey, Sara. Sorry. Didn’t see ya there.”

  “Yeah. At six feet, I am so small and undetectable.”

  “Huh?”

  Angie reached around and grabbed hold of the sleeve of Sara’s leather jacket. “Excuse us.” Angie dragged her over to the bar.

  “You and those legs, Santiago,” Sara teased, marveling at how only Angie could make the tacky gold short skirt she wore look classy rather than slutty.

  “Shut up.” Angie stepped up to the bar, ignoring the men staring at her, plotting their move in the hopes of getting two seconds of her time. She knocked on the bar with her knuckles. “Excuse me. Bar slut?”

  Miki didn’t even turn away from the three regulars she was helping as she reached back with one arm and gave Angie the finger.

  “How rude!”

  “Leave her alone.” Sara laughed while glancing around the club. Packed but with a lot more unknown faces then she’d seen in a long time.

  “Who are all these people?”

  “Must be here for tomorrow’s rave.” And then Angie threw her arms up in the air and “woo-hoo’d” for the benefit of everyone.

  “Jeez, Ang. We’re not even there yet and you’re already grooving.”

  “You know me. I do always love a good party.”

  Miki stepped in front of them. “All right. What do you bitches want?”

  “Oh, very nice. Does Skelly know you’re so rude to your customers?”

  “You’re not customers. You’re family. I can talk to you anyway I damn well want to. So you two want something or are you here simply to annoy me?”

  “Both.”

  Miki looked at Sara. “What’cha want?”

  “A shot of te—”

  “Don’t even think about saying tequila to me,” Miki cut in. “I’m not picking your fat ass off the floor yet again.”

  Sara’s eyes narrowed. “My ass is not fat.”

  “Are you happy in your fantasy world, sweetie?” Angie asked, her arm around Sara’s shoulders. “Are your tits small there, too?” Angie ducked when Sara jokingly raised her fist.

  Laughing, Angie turned to Miki. “You have any chardonnay?”

  Miki rolled her eyes, grabbed two Heinekens out of the fridge behind her, popped the tops, and slammed them in front of her friends. “Now don’t bother me.”

  “Isn’t she like a breath of fresh air?”

  Sara shook her head. “No. Not really.”

  God, he was getting pathetic. He caught her scent as soon as she walked into the club and his entire body tightened in lust. What was happening? Zach Sheridan didn’t get all bunged up over women. Ever. It was not in his nature. There were only two women he took special interest in protecting or caring about and one he called “Mom” the other he called “shithead” or “baby sis”.

  Sara didn’t notice him, but that didn’t surprise him. That grandmother of hers made sure Sara was completely oblivious to the power buried inside that sweet body.

  She sat at the bar knocking back a beer in a worn leather biker jacket three times too big for her. Clearly a man’s jacket. Zach scowled when he allowed himself to wonder if that jacket belonged to some asshole. Some asshole other than him, that is. He didn’t like the thought. Even as he fought it, he didn’t like to think for a second Sara might be getting down and as dirty as he’d been daydreaming about lately with some scumbag. Some scumbag other than him, that is.

  The music changed into good trance and a guy invited Angie to join him on the dance floor. With a wink at Sara, she followed behind him. The Mouth, as he liked to call the current object of Conall’s lust, was up to her eyes in patrons, which left Sara sitting there by herself. It was like she didn’t exist to these people. How could they miss her? The males of his Pack noticed her and if it weren’t for him, they’d be sniffing around her right now. But the locals and the bikers acted like she was part of the wallpaper. What idiots.

  Still, Sara didn’t look upset. Instead, she sat on the barstool, drinking her beer and watching everything around her. Absorbing. That’s what she did. No one else may realize it, but Sara had the hard, cold eyes of a predator. And it turned Zach on something fierce.

  Sara let the trance music flow through her, her head moving to the beat as she spun her stool around. The music dropped and she raised her arms in the air, howling out a “woo-hoo” right along with the entire crowd as the music hovered right “there”.

  Oh, yeah, this DJ was awesome. The beat swung back up and the crowd roared in appreciation.

  Yeah. This is what she loved. When the music took her away. Even for a little while. For a few moments, she forgot the pain, her grandmother and her less-than-thrilling life. She forgot it all while letting that beat move through her.

  Someone sat next to her and she glanced to her left, expecting to see Angie. Instead, she saw him. Leaning back against the bar, his elbows resting on the polished wood, and his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. The man seemed to have an array of black, unknown-band T-shirts, blue jeans that fit his superb ass perfectly, and biker boots. He didn’t wear much else and, God in heaven, he really didn’t need to.

  “Thought you weren’t going out tonight,” he said, raising his voice enough so she could hear him over the music but not enough for her to consider the yelling a threat.

  “That’s not what I said,” she responded. “I said I wasn’t going out tonight with you.”

  “And why was that again?”

  “Cause I don’t like you.”

  He snorted, it was sort of like a laugh, and went back to watching the crowd.

  Christ, the man was irritating. Cute and hot and irritating.

  She was seconds away from asking him why the hell he was even talking to her when a flash of gold dragged her eyes back to the dance floor. Sure enough, Angie had just stumbled back from two guys about to gut each other over her. It wouldn’t be the first time. Men, especially bikers, loved to fight over Angie. Of course, the one who got her could never keep her. But no point in telling them that. They saw Angie in all her cute, gold outfits and sexy, way overpriced shoes and thought they could handle her.

  When they ended up in the ER, the doctors desperately trying to figure out how to stop the bleeding, those same guys always seemed so surprised.

  Sara knocked against the bar with her knuckles, catching Miki’s attention.

  “Angie alert.”

  Miki looked out over the dance floor and growled.

  “Leon!” she yelled, and the bouncer was there in an instant with one of the new trainees. They grabbed hold of the men and Sara barely caught Miki in time, trying to dive over the bar with her baseball bat firmly in hand.

  “Don’t even think about it, Kendrick.”

  The two bouncers picked the fighting men off the floor and dragged them to the exit.

  “Dammit, Morrighan!” Miki, grinning, slid back off the bar. “I could have taken at least one of them out and it would have been totally legal this time.” She slipped the bat back to its hiding place under the bar at the same time she caught sight of Zach. “What’s he doing here?”

  Sara shrugged. “I don’t know.” Sara looked at Zach. “What are you doing here?”

  “Enjoying the wonder that is Texas.”

  Trying hard not to laugh, Sara said to Miki, “He’s learning to love our mighty state.”

  Miki rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  And then he was there. The big blond stalker. He smiled at Miki. “Hi.”

  She didn’t even try and fake that particular conversation. Instead, Miki yelled, “Break!” and then disappeared into the back
room, slamming the door behind her.

  The blond frowned in confusion and gave his order to the other bartender.

  “Fun friends.”

  Sara turned and faced Zach. “If I didn’t know better I’d swear that was sarcasm I just heard.”

  “Me? Sarcastic? That’s crazy talk.”

  “Then you fit in perfectly around here.”

  Zach motioned to the beer in her hand. “Want another one?” Okay, was he buying her a drink or just buying her a drink? Hhhhm. This is a new level of idiotic questions, Morrighan.

  But before she could turn him down or shove her tongue down his throat, he said, “Behind you.”

  “What?”

  He didn’t repeat himself. Just grabbed hold of her jacket and yanked her over to him. Her body slammed up against his, her breasts pressing into his hard chest. She gasped in surprise and sexual awareness. Oh, yeah, this guy felt good! Still, that didn’t mean he could go around grabbing her. Before she could tell him to get his big paws off her fat ass, something slammed into her from behind, shoving her closer to Zach. At this point, if she were any closer, they’d be fucking.

  Sara’s eyes stayed locked on Zach’s rich hazel ones. No one had ever looked at her like this. Like they could eat her alive.

  For a split second she thought he might actually try and kiss her—and she didn’t know whether she’d kiss him back or stab him in the face—but his next comment took her by surprise.

  “Nice jacket.”

  “Uh…” Sara looked down at the worn and very loved jacket she wore as often as she could. “Thanks?”

  “Where’d you get it from?”

  That was none of his goddamn business, but she heard herself answering before she could stop herself. “It was my dad’s.”

  His hazel eyes searched hers like he was trying to figure out if she were lying. Definitely not a guy who trusted a lot of women.

  After several moments, he muttered, “Good.”

  Before she could deal with why that might be good and why the hell did he care about her wardrobe and why did he keep looking at her like steak tar tar; the chanting behind her picked up volume and her eyes widened in panic.