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“I’m Jack.”

Cricket moved the bar stool closer to him and fingered his leather sleeve. His pulse moved into overdrive. Horny bastard. She took a whiff of him. Randi’s residual smell lingered on him. Perhaps a week ago, before he went missing.

He signaled the bartender and then turned to her. “What do you want, darlin’?”

“I’ll have what you had.”

“Two whiskeys.”

The bartender nervously looked at Slade, and then spoke to Jack. “We don’t want trouble.”

Cricket shot Slade a quick glance. Shit. His canines extended to the point of being noticeable. She better play it cool and show Jack Randi’s photo. Slade, don’t even think about going wolf in a room full of biker dudes. Ugh. I knew it was too soon to send him out. He belonged in the arctic forest hunting moose, not mingling with humans.

Jack narrowed his eyes at the bartender. “Just bring the drinks.” He smiled at her. “So why did you choose me to piss off your old man?”

“Actually, I’m making the rounds.” She whipped out the photo. “I’m looking for my brother.”

He stared at the photograph then back at her. “You don’t look related.”

“Different fathers,” she said.

“Never met him.”

Yeah, right. So why is his scent on you? His pulse climbed. Liar. At least she determined he was foe and not friend. “Oh, well, no problem.”

He stood and grabbed her. One hand on her ass. “Why don’t we lose the boyfriend now?”

“Where to?” She ignored Slade’s low growl.

“My place.”

“And where would that be?” Cricket asked loud enough so Slade could hear.

“I’ll tell you as soon as we leave.” He squeezed her arm, bruising her. Strong for a human.

Ouch! A

sshole. She grabbed his arm, hooked her foot around his ankle and did a leg sweep, knocking him off his feet. The roar of the loud music and loud conversations didn’t stop the bikers from looking. Many laughed. A giant of a man on the floor because of a petite woman seemed to be the night’s main entertainment.

Slade thundered over and clutched him by his collar. “What the hell did you do to my girlfriend?”

His eyes widened. “Dude, nothing. I just wanted to talk to her, nothing more.”

Cricket frowned. “Actually, don’t you think, it’s what I did to him?” Didn’t she just prove she could take care of herself against the beefcake, even without fangs, claws and Glock?

Two building-sized bouncers walked over. The smaller one snarled, “You guys want to take this outside?”

Cricket blurted, “Sorry, just a misunderstanding.”

Undeterred, Slade stared at Pinky. Jack probably wasn’t even his real name. “Yes, let’s take this outside.”

She wrapped her arm about Slade’s hard bicep. “Hon, why don’t we go home?”

Slade nodded. He gently pushed her away and yanked the big man up from the floor. Great. He needs to tone down his werewolf super strength. Or, at least make it look like martial arts.

Pinky’s eyes widened and then he smiled. “I get it. She’s hot, and I had sticky paws. Sorry dude.” He patted the front of his jacket and backed away.

Cricket lifted a brow. Sticky paws? He knew they were werewolves. Unless, he signed the contract and was marked, he’d need to be eliminated.


Tags: Eva Gordon Team Greywolf Fantasy