“I say we find this place and kick ass until we do know,” Broderick said. “They won’t suspect anything if I go in. They’ll just think I’m restless and want a fight. Which, you know, isn’t wrong.”
Rebecca shook her head. “We can’t turn a Shifter bar into a fight club. Liam would be all over you for that, and so would whatever Shiftertown leader whose territory we’ll be in.”
Broderick started to argue, fists balled, but Joanne stepped in front of him and faced Walker. “Can we at least go check it out?”
“I plan to,” Walker said. “We’re not going all the way back to Austin yet.”
Joanne let out her breath and gave him a smile. “Thanks,” she said.
Two conversations were happening here, Rebecca realized. The two humans were communicating about what was more important to them than anything else, including personal safety—finding Nancy. Broderick and Rebecca were on a different plane—weighing how to deal with Shifters who might be less inhibited, and how to protect Walker and Joanne from them.
Who was right at this moment—the humans or the Shifters?
“Did they give you directions?” Rebecca asked.
“They did.” Walker’s gaze met hers, his eyes holding both anticipation and remembered warmth of their kiss.
Broderick made an impatient noise. “Then what are we waiting for?” He grabbed Joanne’s hand and strode away with her, back to the gleam of his motorcycle at the edge of the lot.
“Want me to drive?” Walker asked Rebecca.
Rebecca stepped close to him, put her hand on his chest, and daringly gave him a kiss on the lips. Then she turned away and tossed him her keys as she headed for the bike. “Be my guest.”
Chapter Twelve
The Shifter bar the groupies had directed Walker to lay almost straight south of San Antonio. Towns thinned out once they left the I-10 between San Antonio and Houston, growing sparser as Walker steered Rebecca’s motorcycle down a two-lane highway that stretched into darkness.
Rebecca’s strong arms wrapped him from behind, her body soft against him as they balanced together. He already loved riding with her, never wanted to stop.
Walker was breaking his own rules right and left, especially the one about mixing sexual pleasure with an op. He completed the mission first—then he could go out and celebrate with a beautiful woman.
He’d done covert missions with women before, including one in which he pretended to be the husband of a female operative, but they’d been totally professional. The woman had been married to another guy anyway. After the mission, her husband had joined them for after-mission revelry at a bar. The woman had walked away arm-in-arm with her husband, and Walker had gone home alone.
Easier to feel nothing in a job like his. He’d seen too much death, too much cruelty for the sake of it. Better to live in a black-and-white world—do the job, celebrate a victory or survive a defeat, go home and sleep.
What had begun as a way to keep himself sane had grown into habit, and now he didn’t know any other way.
Kissing Rebecca in the hall to keep the Shifters from catching on to what they were doing had broken open something inside him. He fought like hell to contain it, but it was too late.
The moment he’d wrapped his arms around her and dragged her against him, Walker had known he’d screwed up. He hadn’t wanted to let go. One taste of her, and he was doomed—he’d always known he would be. She wound him up like no other woman had, and not just because she was Shifter. She was Rebecca.
After this—after this . . . Hell, if there was an after this, he’d take her to bed, as he’d told her. Once, at the very least. They knew each other now, they could toast their success with drinks and a night of intense pleasure.
Walker knew, though, as Rebecca adjusted her hold, her hands warm in the darkness, that once with her would never be enough.
Walker leaned into a turn that took them to an even smaller road leading out into emptiness. Broderick’s headlamp behind him cut into the night as Broderick followed with Joanne perched behind him.
The bar Walker sought lay four more miles down this highway, outside a town that was all but dried up. The town’s main crossroads didn’t even have a stoplight, its main intersection marked with a faded stop sign shot through with bullet holes. Walker and Broderick rode past the few houses, most of them boarded up, and out the other side of the town. The roadhouse was a mile and a half from there.
Not as many vehicles filled this lot, but that didn’t mean the place was empty. Most were pickups, and a group could have piled into each.
Walker parked in darkness out of sight from the front door—this one closed—and turned off the engine. Broderick pulled up behind him, his engine throbbing louder than any needed to, even a Harley’s. But that was Broderick.
Joanne pulled off her helmet as Broderick shut down his bike. This parking lot had no lights—the only illumination came from the floodlight over the front door. Joanne looked scared; Rebecca, impatient and edgy.
Broderick started to stride to the door, but Walker reached out and pulled him back.
Broderick instantly swung around, Collar sparking, fist coming at him. Walker grabbed the fist in a competent hand and twisted Broderick’s arm around in a move that could break a human bone. Broderick jerked away, more angry than hurt.
“Stop it,” Rebecca said before Broderick could try again. “Walker’s right. We don’t rush in. We check it out. Stay in character.”
“They’re Shifters,” Broderick growled. “They don’t get character. They understand fight or fuck off.”
“Please.” Joanne touched Broderick’s wrist. “If they know where my sister is—if my sister is anywhere near here—I want to find out without tipping them off.”
The change in Broderick was amazing. When Walker had grasped Broderick’s arm, he’d turned into a crazed, fighting beast. When Joanne did, all the belligerence left his eyes, and he gave her a look that was almost tender.
“I know you’re scared for her, sweetie,” Broderick said, caressing her hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.” Oblivious to the interested glances Walker and Rebecca exchanged, Broderick let out a breath. “All right, we’ll try the covert way for now. But if that doesn’t work, I’m charging in there.”
“If I need you, I’ll yell,” Walker said, less than patient. “Ready, Becks?”
Broderick snorted. “Goddess, she lets you call her Becks . . .”
Walker had already gripped Rebecca’s upper arm and was guiding her toward the building. He heard Broderick’s guffaw in the background, and Joanne’s soft, “Broderick.”
The door to this roadhouse was less welcoming than the last. The one at Shooters had at least been open. A spotlight threw a hard circle of yellow light around the doorstep and a few feet beyond, so that any Shifter looking out could see who stood there. The door itself was a slab of metal, gray, dinged with bullet holes, and rusted.
Walker hadn’t been told about a secret knock or any such thing, but it didn’t matter. As soon as Rebecca stepped into the light and reached for the door, it was pulled open.
Doors of drinking establishments were supposed to open outward—in case of fire, people could get out without the crowd crushing the doors shut. This one had been rehinged to open inward, so that the bouncer who answered it could use it to shove unwanted patrons out.
This particular bouncer was big, almost bear-sized, but he wasn’t a bear Shifter. Feline, Walker was certain. The man’s light green eyes had the piercing stare of a cat, and his stance was edgy. Under the light, his round pupils flicked to feline-like slits and back again.
“No,” the Feline said abruptly.
Walker stood a yard or so behind Rebecca, not only to pretend he was her groupie in tow, but to keep his face averted and in shadow. There was something wrong here, and his instinct was to hide any features this guy might recognize later.
Rebecca stared into the Feline’s eyes without fear. “No? What does that me
an? I heard this place was hot.” She tried to look past the bouncer into the bar, but he’d positioned himself squarely in the door’s opening.
“Bear,” the Feline said.
“No shit,” Rebecca returned. “You’re a wildcat. We can recognize each other, so what? I just want a drink. Maybe some dancing.”
The man’s gaze moved to Rebecca’s Collar and rested there. “What Shiftertown you from?”
He had a Texas drawl. Few Shifters had originated in the United States, except some of the Lupine clans—most bears came from Canada or, like Rebecca and Ronan, from Alaska. Felines, on the other hand, descended from clans in Europe, Ireland, and Scotland, with some, like Spike, from Mexico and on into South America. This meant that the Feline’s South Texas accent had been acquired; probably he used it to obscure his origins for whatever reason.
“Does it matter?” Rebecca snapped in answer to his question.
“Not a lot of bears down here,” the bouncer said. “You from Austin?”
If she lied, he’d scent it. If she chose not to answer, he might slam the door. Rebecca decided to go with the truth. “Yes. I felt like—”
“Dylan’s Shiftertown.” The Feline spat on the doorstep. Rebecca held her ground, but her back stiffened.
“Liam’s now. Dylan retir—”
The Feline cut her off by taking a step back and slamming the door. Rebecca stared at the slab of metal before she growled, “Asshole.”
Walker knew there was no way to get that door open again without a battering ram or explosives. No light shone through the bullet holes, which meant pistols and shotguns hadn’t been able to penetrate it.
Rebecca was quivering with rage, but Walker touched her shoulder, signaling her to follow him away.
“Guess that didn’t work,” Broderick said as they reconvened in the darkness by the bikes. “Kicking ass is better.”
“Shut up, Broderick,” Rebecca growled, then she stopped, her gaze focusing on nothing as she thought. “Wait a sec. I was trying so hard to see around the guy, I didn’t pay attention, but . . . Oh, wow.” She snapped her head around to look at Walker, her brown eyes almost glowing in the darkness. “That’s not right.”
“What?” Broderick demanded, but Walker realized at the same moment what Rebecca meant.
Walker had noted every single thing about the bouncer, as the Feline and Rebecca had sized each other up, his subconscious tucking away the information until needed. Now one glaring fact surfaced, dancing to the front of Walker’s brain.
“He wasn’t wearing a Collar,” Rebecca said. “Not a real one, anyway.”
That took a few heartbeats to sink in.
“Maybe he had it removed,” Joanne said. “Broderick told me some Shifters are able to do that now.”
Rebecca’s fists clenched. “He told you? Goddess, Broderick. What does the phrase Shifter secrets mean to you?”
Broderick scowled back. “She’s safe. She won’t run out and blab it.”
Joanne stood her ground under Rebecca’s glare. “He’s right, I won’t,” she said. “Broderick and his family have done a lot for me—do you think I’d do anything to hurt them?”
Rebecca threw up her hands and shook her head, but Walker interrupted. “It’s a good guess, Joanne, but I don’t think so. Only a few Shifters have had it done so far. The Collar moved on his neck and I didn’t see a line underneath—when the Collar comes out of the skin, it leaves a red scar, and we don’t know yet how long that takes to heal.” He went silent a moment before he finished, “Which might mean that Shifter has never had a Collar on him.”
They all went deadly silent, thinking it through.
“How can he not have a Collar?” Rebecca asked quietly.
Walker shrugged. “Not every Shifter got rounded up twenty years ago. According to Shifter Bureau records, some eluded capture. Hunters killed a lot of those, but there were Shifters who managed to escape. Like that guy who moved to Mexico and called himself Miguel. He set up a mock Shiftertown for un-Collared Shifters,” he added for Joanne’s benefit, in case she hadn’t heard the story.
“Yeah, and they all went feral,” Rebecca said. “They captured females, both Shifter and human—and had a good old time until their building got blown up.”
Broderick chuckled. “I wish I could have seen that.”
“This Feline wasn’t feral,” Rebecca pointed out. “Ferals stink. They don’t like to wear clothes, and they don’t have jobs. This guy obviously bathes and goes to work every night—a human has to own the bar and must have hired him, so there has to be some kind of record on him.”
“Plus, he sounds like he knows who lives in what Shiftertown,” Walker said. “Something a feral wouldn’t care about. Are all the Shifters in there like him? Or is he an aberration?”
“Arrest him,” Broderick said. “You’re Shifter Bureau. It’s your job to look for rogue Shifters and cage them. Go on. Tase him. Call in the choppers. Drag him off. “
“We aren’t here about him,” Rebecca said. “We’re here to find Joanne’s sister.”
Broderick’s growl rumbled in his throat. “Maybe it’s all connected. Did you think of that?”
“It’s connected,” Walker broke in. “Somehow. We just have to find out how. Broderick, let me borrow your hoodie.”
Broderick started. “What for? I don’t want my clothes stinking of human. Not male human anyway.” He added with a glance at Joanne.
Walker tugged tissues out of his pocket and started wiping the corners of his eyes. “He didn’t get a good look at me. He was much more worried about Rebecca and who she was. In the hoodie, with my makeup changed, he might not realize I’m the same guy. Your scent will disguise mine, as well, in case he got a whiff of me. He’ll think I’m a Lupine lover.”
Rebecca swung to him. “’Scuse me . . . you’re thinking of going in there alone?”
“Not alone. With Joanne. I’ll bet they don’t let in Shifters who aren’t vetted, but I’m willing to risk they’ll let in humans, especially groupies.”
“No!” Broderick said, at the same time Rebecca growled, “Bad idea.”
“No, it’s a good idea,” Joanne interrupted. “Let him have the jacket, Broderick. Walker can keep me safe. I am not leaving without more information about my sister.”
The determination in her voice, and the hint of tears behind that, won the argument. Broderick, grumbling, stripped off his jacket.
Rebecca still didn’t like it, Walker could see, but she helped him. With the aid of a flashlight and one of her bike’s mirrors, they wiped off the Egyptian-like eye makeup and redrew his whiskers, attempting to make him look more Lupine-oriented than Feline.
Joanne had brought cat’s ears for herself in case she had to go into one of the clubs, and she borrowed the eyeliner pencil to do a quick job on her own face.
When they were done, Walker encased himself in Broderick’s hoodie, using it to hide his hair and put his face in shadow. He squeezed Rebecca’s hand, and told her what he wanted her to do. She did not look happy, but she nodded, giving his hand a warm squeeze in return.
Then Walker released Rebecca, put his arm around Joanne’s shoulders, and for the second time that night, approached the shot-up door of the roadhouse.
Chapter Thirteen
Walker had learned a long time ago that a person could make him- or herself look very different, especially in bad lighting, by changing posture, attitude, and one or two pieces of clothing. Extras in movies could play many parts by avoiding being seen too clearly by the cameras.
Walker slouched beside Joanne, making himself look lanky and loose and a little shorter than he truly was. He kept his eyes averted when the bouncer opened the door, so the man couldn’t get a good look at them.
It also helped that he was a different bouncer, a Lupine this time. He had wiry black hair, tatts all over his arms, and light gray eyes. He, like the Feline, wore a fake Collar, with no evidence he’d ever had a real one.
The Lup
ine looked Joanne over, taking in her cat’s ears and makeup but also her tight shirt and leather pants. “Hey, sweetie,” he said to her. “You’re cute, but I can’t let you in until I know how you heard about this place.”
Walker answered for her. Shifters could smell a lie, so Walker gave him the truth. “In a bar called Shooters.” He made his voice thin and higher-pitched than his normal one. “They said it was wilder here.”
The Lupine showed his teeth in a smile. “Yeah, we’re wilder, definitely. Newbies stick to the left side of the bar. Got it? And you need this.” He reached for Joanne’s hand and rubbed the back of his thumb hard over it.
Walker repressed his instinct to spring to her aid, realizing that the Lupine was spreading his scent on Joanne’s skin. Better than an ink stamp.
Walker let the Lupine rub his hand as well, then the bouncer stood back and let them in.
This roadhouse was darker than the other, with only a few lights over the bar and on signs pointing out emergency exits. Shifters could see pretty well in the dark and didn’t need too much light. Humans here would have to live with it, but Walker had a feeling they didn’t mind.
The left side of the bar had mostly empty tables, with humans in groupie makeup clumped together. Must be the newbies. The rest of the bar was full of women and men in full groupie mode, surrounded by plenty of Shifters.
The Shifters were Felines and Lupines. Walker had spent enough time with Ronan and family to recognize bears, and none of these were. Some were in animal form—a few leopards wandered around, along with a big, shaggy wolf. One wildcat lay with his feet in a groupie’s lap, and she was stroking his head. If the music hadn’t been so loud, Walker would bet he’d hear the wildcat purring.
Walker led Joanne to the tables with the newbies. Better to follow the rules for now.
The young women here were a little more reticent, but they opened up a little when Walker said hello in a friendly way, and Joanne did her best to look cute and harmless. Walker noticed more male groupies here than the other place, though there weren’t that many female Shifters.