Clothes off, lips meeting, bodies coming together in the dark.
Becks, he’d whisper as he touched her. Rebecca . . .
“Rebecca.” Walker’s voice was sharp. “Did you hear me?”
She jumped. “What?”
Walker’s eyes narrowed as though he wondered what was wrong with her. “I said, I’ll put up with it for the sake of getting intel. I’m used to it.”
“Really?” Mabel asked, interested. “You’ve done this before?”
“Not this.” Walker waved his hand at his face. “But other things.”
“Ooo, tell us.”
Walker sent Mabel a wise look. “Can’t. National security. Need to know, only.”
“Oh. Right.”
Mabel’s eager grin vanished, and she tried to look as sage as Walker. Walker gave Rebecca the barest wink.
Her blood boiled, her skin prickling with heat. Rebecca stood up hastily, nearly knocking over her chair in the process. “I need to get some air.”
The others stared at her in surprise. Rebecca straightened the chair she’d knocked askew and ran for the door, out into the October sunshine and cool air.
***
Mabel washed the makeup off Walker’s face once she had the design down and had taken a photograph for reference. She was good at this, Walker realized. Mabel, in her early twenties, had a brisk businesslike way about her, but also a sense of fun that Walker missed in himself.
He’d never thought, at her age, that he’d end up behind a desk at Shifter Bureau, trying to keep the peace between humans and Shiftertown. His military career was pretty much over, any thought of family gone, and he was about to spend Saturday night pretending to be a groupie in a Shifter bar.
But this was his job. He’d gone behind the lines to retrieve those in trouble before, and this was no different. A young woman was missing. Walker was good at getting people home safely, and he would do it now.
He’d hoped he could spend time sitting with Rebecca, going over the case files together, but by the time Mabel had finished with him, Rebecca, who he’d made sure hadn’t gone farther than the front yard, had returned to the house and retreated to her bedroom. She’d taken the case file with her, so she wasn’t refusing to help, but she didn’t come out until time for supper.
Rebecca now hid in the kitchen with Elizabeth, helping prepare dinner for the crowd. The two women, assisted by Scott, carried out the feast, which the younger bears and Mabel made vanish.
Conversation was lively, and Walker warmed to it. He liked the openness of this family, most of them not related to each other, except by friendship and caring. He didn’t have this in his solitary life. He focused on his missions, moved from place to place, and went home alone every night.
After dinner, they cleared the table, Mabel brought out her makeup kit again, and sat Walker down for his final costuming. Elizabeth helped her, the two women and the cubs closing around Walker.
He couldn’t see Rebecca in the crush, but he couldn’t have spoken to her even if he’d tried. Mabel had Walker half pinned to the chair, her round face next to his as she concentrated on drawing his eye markings with a steady hand.
Walker had once been captured on a mission, restrained, and tortured. Being pressed back into a chair while someone stuck something pointy near his eye still made him squirrelly. But he tamped down his instinctive reaction. He wouldn’t hurt Mabel for the world.
“There.” Mabel stepped back. “What do you think, Rebecca?”
Rebecca was at his side. She leaned down, her ample bosom in the tight black top she’d put on right next to his cheek. Damn.
“More here.” Rebecca touched Walker’s eyebrow. “He needs to look like he sits around thinking about sex with Shifters all day.”
Mabel grinned, white teeth flashing, and touched her pencil to his face. Rebecca watched, then nodded. “You got it.”
“Want to see?” Mabel asked Walker as she slid the cap onto the pencil.
“Doesn’t matter,” Walker said. He fought the urge to rub his face and started to rise, but Rebecca pushed him down with a firm hand.
“Ears,” she said.
Elizabeth had brought them from her store. These ears, affixed to a headband, were white and furry with leopard spots on the outside, black fur on the inside. Rebecca took them from Elizabeth, leaned down, and fixed them on Walker’s head. The plastic band was tight, but Walker didn’t adjust it.
Rebecca regarded him critically, but Mabel grinned. “Love it. Picture!” Before Walker could stop her, Mabel had whipped out her cell phone and clicked it. “Oh, please say I can post this.”
Rebecca peered at the phone, then the seriousness she’d worn all day vanished, replaced by a breathtaking smile. “That’s a keeper. I say we have Elizabeth blow it up to poster size and hang it on the wall.”
Rebecca laughed with Mabel, and Walker sat there and let them. When Rebecca laughed, the world was a good place.
“Maybe later,” Walker told Mabel. “Keep it to yourself for now. Covert, remember?”
“Right.” Mabel gave him another smile and tucked her phone away. “Go catch bad guys.”
“You mean go question Shifters,” Walker said, standing up. He took the ears off and set them on the table. “What’s the best thing to wear?” he asked Mabel. “If I want to blend in with the other groupies, I mean?”
Rebecca folded her arms and looked him up and down. “Hot pants.”
Mabel went off into a peal of laughter, and the Shifter cubs snickered.
Cherie volunteered the next idea. “I’ve seen the male groupies wear just jeans. Riding low. A loose button-down shirt—they have to wear a shirt to be allowed into the bar, but they can unbutton it while they’re dancing.”
Ronan’s growl filled the room. “And when are you looking that hard at Shifter groupies?”
Cherie blinked in surprise. “I see them in Liam’s bar all the time. So do you.”
Ronan kept growling. “Yeah, well, I think I’ll escort them out a little more often.”
“She’s not wrong,” Scott put in. “They pretty much try to show off all they have. So do the women.”
“Jeans, button-down shirt,” Walker said. “Got it. I’ll change, and we’ll go.”
“No underwear,” Rebecca said, sending him a sly smile.
Walker’s skin heated. He hid his sudden flush by snatching up the fake ears. “I’ll think about it.”
“Wait,” Mabel said. “Elizabeth brought a tail too.” She held it up, long and spotted—and very furry.
Walker studied the entire family full of grinning faces. They were making so much fun of him, and loving it.
“Overkill,” Walker said. “I’m not walking around all night with that thing strapped to my ass.”
Mabel slid her phone out again. “Just for a picture?”
“No,” he said firmly but not unkindly, walked out the door, and shut it behind him.
***
Rebecca leaned on her motorcycle, shivering in wind that had turned cool. Last night’s storm was long gone, but it had left a lingering chill. She zipped up her leather jacket and thrust her hands into the pockets, knowing her sudden coldness came from more than the weather.
The light went off in the Den, and Walker emerged. In the glow of the Den’s porch light, Walker did look very much like a Shifter groupie. Made-up face, tight dark jeans, leather jacket over loose shirt, the fake ears clutched in one hand, a small duffel bag in the other.
“Let’s go,” he said, heading for his truck.
Rebecca intercepted him. “If you truly were my groupie, you’d have me drive. We go on my bike.”
She thought he’d argue, or toss her the keys to his truck and tell her they were taking that instead, but Walker shrugged, tucked the ears inside his jacket, and headed for the motorcycle. He stashed his duffel in the saddlebag, waited for Rebecca to mount, then swung himself on behind. He knew how to do it, no hesitation.
Rebecca was the one sha
king as she pressed the starter. Ronan loved the old kick-starter on his motorcycle, but Rebecca liked electronic starters, faster when she was in a hurry, which was most of the time.
Because Rebecca wasn’t a petite woman, her bike wasn’t either. She had a large Softail, big enough for her frame, with a passenger seat behind her. She was used to extra weight when she rode, since she ferried Cherie and Scott all over the place. She balanced easily as she slid the bike along the driveway and out into the street.
What she was not used to was the warm strength of Walker, wrapping his arms around her to hold on. He knew how to do that too, steadying himself without impeding her. He’d been made to ride with her, she thought, the two becoming one as the bike rolled out of Shiftertown.
Rebecca tried to shut out the sensation of his hard body against her back, his weight perfectly in tune with hers. She leaned into the turn as she glided onto Airport Boulevard, and Walker kept balance with her.
Too bad they weren’t heading out for a day of biking pleasure, the open road, taking their time, going wherever they wanted. She could ride behind sometimes, clinging to Walker’s firm body while he took them into the wind.
They’d stop for the night in some roadside motel, tired, contented, and sleep spooned together in a thin-mattressed bed—after hours of kick-ass lovemaking, of course. More of the same the next day.
They could do it—this daydream didn’t have to remain a dream. Shifters weren’t allowed to travel between states, but Texas was huge. A biker could ride its roads for years and never see all there was to see.
Shooters lay to the east of San Antonio, on a highway that wound eventually to Houston. It was a roadhouse, lying by itself outside the nearest small town, surrounded by a lighted dirt parking lot.
Rebecca had never been to Shooters, but it was easy to see that Shifters inhabited it. Harleys and old pickups filled the lot, and the men walking toward the rectangle of light that was the open door had the tall swagger of Shifter males. Mostly Lupines, Rebecca could tell from one sniff.
Walker dismounted the bike and made a show of helping her down, which was what a male groupie would do for his Shifter lady. Rebecca was dismayed by how much she liked his hands steadying her on her feet. This was getting dangerous fast.
Walker studied the other Shifters in the parking lot as he slid the fake ears onto his head. Then he drew a breath and settled into character. He took on the kind of slouch Rebecca had seen in the male groupies at Liam’s bar, nonchalant and excited at the same time.
Weird to see Walker subsume his take-no-shit personality into that of a man who was smug he’d landed himself a Shifter woman. His stance both congratulated himself and dared anyone to try to take her away. That, and he was looking forward to her having her way with him later.
Wow. Rebecca cleared her throat, far more nervous than he was. “I guess we go inside,” she said.
Walker didn’t answer. He came to her, took her arm and draped it around his neck, hanging on to her hand. “Now, we go in,” he said in a low voice. “Try to act like you’re enjoying this.”
She was, but not in the way he meant. “Right.” Rebecca took a breath, as he had, and tried to behave as though she’d snared this hot guy and was going to put him through his paces all night.
The images that flashed through her head had her knees buckling. Walker steadied her, the strength in his grip astonishing. Then he marched her to the open door of the bar and inside to heat and noise.
Chapter Ten
Shooters was typical for a Shifter bar in South Texas. Rebecca had never been to this particular one—she never got out much beyond Austin and its environs—and so didn’t worry too much about running into anyone she knew.
Though Shifters could legally move about the state, most of them stayed pretty close to home. Territory was a tricky thing. Humans had laid the boundaries of Shiftertowns, but Shifters knew where the true boundaries were.
Shiftertown leaders considered that the Shifters they’d been put in charge of were basically one extended pack, pride, or clan. Territories radiated out from each Shiftertown to where the leaders had agreed theirs ended and another leader’s began. Humans might not be aware of these demarcations, but every Shifter knew them.
Shooters was outside the area that Liam and his father, Dylan, controlled. This bar would be under the purview of the Shiftertown on the western outskirts of Houston. Rebecca had never met its leader, and she wasn’t in a hurry to. She’d play it cool tonight. They’d listen, learn, and leave.
Walker’s arm around her neck was solid and warm. The two were about the same height, his weight on her supporting rather than dragging. She slid her arm around his rock-hard waist under his coat, the intimacy of their half embrace making her breath come faster.
The entrance was lighted—Shifters liked to see who walked inside any building they were in—but beyond that, the bar proper was in near darkness.
Again, a territory thing. Newcomers would be disoriented for a few seconds from walking from bright to dark, while the Shifters inside could see clearly who’d entered. If the Shifters decided they were enemies, they’d be surrounded and thrown out.
Didn’t matter that humans owned these bars. When Shifters decided they liked a place, they could have the humans doing what they wanted pretty quick. Those like Liam manipulated through charm and a lazy smile; others, like Dylan, did it by intimidation.
The Shifters here must not have worried about Rebecca and Walker, because no one charged them, no Collars sparked in the darkness. The two of them strolled, unhindered, into the wall of sound and darkness.
Rebecca’s eyes adjusted quickly. Walker took a little more time, but he used their hold on each other to keep from tripping or running into anything without being obvious about it.
The music was a rapid staccato. In an area of country-western roadhouses, this bar was defiantly blasting rap. Rebecca liked it, and started moving to the music before she realized it. She loved to dance.
She and Walker made for the bar, which was what people who came in here would do. Drinks first, then dancing.
The human bartender looked as though he could hold his own against Shifters. He had a craggy face, well-muscled tattooed arms, and hard eyes. Rebecca ordered beer for them both, Walker keeping very quiet as he looked around.
The bartender gave Walker a glance of disgust, clearly not liking groupies, especially not male ones. He slid both bottles toward Rebecca, took her cash, and gave her a grudging nod when she tipped him.
Walker lifted his bottle and turned his back to the bar. “Anyone here you know?” He stood very close so he only had to lean to her a little to speak into her ear.
“Not so far.”
“Good. Let’s make some new friends.”
He waited for Rebecca to walk away first, like a good groupie would do. He was closely watching the few other male groupies in here, adjusting his gait to match theirs. He was good at subterfuge.
“Making new friends” apparently meant talking to other groupies, not Shifters. Reasonable—groupies would speak to those they wouldn’t consider a threat. The young women eagerly eying the male Shifters were perfectly happy to move some of their attention to Walker. They recognized strength and a sexy man when they saw him.
At Walker’s whispered suggestion, Rebecca left him to it and sauntered back to the bar, assessing the other Shifters along the way. She glanced at Walker from time to time, pretending to keep a jealous eye on him, which wasn’t difficult to fake. The groupie girls were opening up to him, leaning in, touching his knee. If he wanted to take one of them home tonight, he’d only have to ask.
She noted that the Shifters here were relaxed, at ease, not too worried about anything. This was their go-to comfort place, like Liam’s bar in Austin. If they ran a kidnapping ring, they weren’t showing any sign of it.
The male Shifters had all focused on Rebecca as soon as she’d walked in the door, never mind she was with Walker. Shifter population was d
isproportionately male, and those males were always looking for mates. An unmated, unknown female, alone without her family, would be considered fair game.
The female Shifters in the bar regarded Rebecca without concern. Competition for mates was strongest among the males. Shifter females had their pick—not that they wouldn’t fight to the death if two of them picked the same one.
The females were curious, though. Rebecca was out of her territory, she was a bear Shifter in a sea of Lupines and Felines, and they had to be wondering what she was doing.
“You are so out of place, girlfriend.” A leggy Feline woman had left a laughing circle of friends to stroll to the bar and order another round. She could have remained seated and had one of the waitresses bring the drinks, but she’d come to scope out Rebecca.
Rebecca jerked her chin at Walker, deep in conversation with the eager young groupies. “He wanted to go somewhere new. Bored.”
The Feline gave Walker an appreciative look, but shook her head. “Groupies. Why do you bother with them?”
Rebecca shrugged. “They don’t go all alpha-male domination on me. That gets old.”
The woman laughed. “Too right. I have three brothers.”
“Yeah, well, you should try living with bears. I have to threaten to turn them into rugs to stop them being total shits.”
The Feline woman laughed loudly. She was pretty, with a fine-boned face and blue eyes. Rebecca wondered what her wildcat was, but she wasn’t good at judging Felines.
“Felines can be just as bad,” the woman conceded. “Then there’s Lupines. Eww.” She wrinkled her nose, and Rebecca and she laughed and exchanged a high five. They could find common ground in cross-species rivalry.
“He’s cute, though,” the Feline said, looking at Walker as she lifted her beer bottle. “Tasty. I can see the attraction. If I were into groupies, I wouldn’t mind one like that.”
Rebecca gave her a nod. The Feline’s deliberate use of the caveat signaled she’d back off Walker, not be a threat.