For the Good of All (Law of the Lycans Book 7) (4 page)

“Come again?” Her comment had him blinking.

“Your informant. A snitch.”

“Why would you think I’m here to get information?” He gave her a speculative look, noting her average size and features. Nothing about her really stood out beyond her absurd make-up and garb. There were purple sequins and leaf-shaped bits of fabric scattered over her top and down her arm. There were even a few in her hair.

“Well, duh. You’re in a bar not dancing, not hitting on the women and not drinking. Plus, you look like an Enforcer. I figure you’re here undercover.”

“If I am, I’m doing a piss poor job since you seem to have seen through me.”

“Yeah.” She frowned, obviously not pleased that he’d disproved her theory. “I guess if you were undercover, you’d try to blend in more.”

“Yep.” He took a drink and prepared to turn away but she didn’t stop talking.

“Unless that’s all part of your plan. You
are
an undercover Enforcer but you’re trying not to look like one by actually acting like one.”

He frowned trying to follow her logic. “Say that again.”

“You’re hiding in plain sight. Doing the exact opposite of what’s expected.” She gave him an approving look. “Very clever even if I do say so myself.”

“Interesting theory, but you’re wrong.”

“I am?” She affected a pout. “Then why are you here?” Her eyes sparkled with interest.

He was tempted to invent some ridiculous tale just to entertain her. He didn’t, though. There was no room for that kind of nonsense in his life. “For a drink?” He raised his glass and then glanced around. “The atmosphere? Maybe some company?”

“Oh.” She appeared to mentally readjust her thinking and then looked him up and down in an assessing way. “Female company?”

He almost rolled his eyes. Neon haired witches weren’t his type and yet he hesitated. There was something about her that kept him from looking away. No doubt it was her outlandish appearance. “Maybe.”

“I’m Tina. What’s your name?” She stuck out her hand and he reluctantly engulfed it in his considerably larger one.

“Stone.” He shook her hand and then released it. The warmth from their brief contact lingered, tickling his palm. He rubbed his hand against his thigh trying to ease the sensation. His wolf twitched its ears.

“Stone? That’s it?”

“No.”

“But you’re not going to tell me the rest.” She propped her elbows on the bar and tilted her head.

“I don’t give out personal information to strangers.” He noticed that her eye shadow was sparkly like her top and she seemed to have some sort of glitter on her upper chest and arms.

“Sounds like something a mother tells a five year old.”

“Probably, but the wisdom of that advice holds true throughout life.”

“Any chance I can escape the ‘stranger’ designation?”

We have no need of a witch in our lives.
His wolf pointed out and looked the other away.

“
Perhaps.” He wondered why he’d said that. His wolf was correct. Broadening his acquaintance with her wasn’t part of his plans.

She grinned at him. “I like challenges. Before the night is over, I’ll know your name.”

A tall, red-headed woman appeared and nudged Tina with a tray. “I didn’t know it was your break time.”

“It’s not. I was just taking care of this customer, Gwyneth.”

“Take care of him on your own time.” The redhead didn’t even glance in Stone’s direction, her mouth tight as she glared at an exceptionally loud group that had gathered at the far end of the bar. “Get back to work, Christina, or I’ll dock your pay.”

“Yes, Gwyneth.” Tina pushed off from the bar but not before sticking her tongue out at the woman’s retreating back.

A brat, Stone thought, a reluctant smile tugging the corner of his mouth once again. Entertaining, but not his kind at all. He eyed the redhead, Gwyneth, as she dealt with the rowdy group.

She is more our usual type
, his wolf said.

Yes. There was a hard, no-nonsense edge to her. He wouldn’t have to be careful about hurt feelings or expectations with her. Yeah, if he was looking for a casual hook-up, she would...should…be his choice.

It would be a better choice than the psychedelic one.

His eyes defied that logical conclusion and he found himself watching Tina again.

Cute. Younger than him but not so much that he was a perv for noticing her. Ten years? Maybe more. He took a drink and turned away. Her age didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking for someone to spend the night with. Nope, he was... He studied his glass, not sure how to finish the sentence.

What was he doing here and what was he going to do tomorrow? An optimist would look at the vast expanse of his empty future and say ‘think of the possibilities’. A pessimist might view his lack of plans as the beginning of a lonely, boring existence. He fell into neither category. He was a realist and the reality was that he had no job, no purpose and needed to get his ass in gear and decide on his next step.

Five years held a prisoner and he’d spent his time planning what he’d do when he was finally free. Well, he’d accomplished most of what was on his list. He’d dealt with Deirdre and the last he’d heard, she’d left the country. The bastards she’d employed had been dealt with as well; some were as dead as the people they’d been hired to assassinate. A few he’d let live, their motives having been close enough to honourable. Only one—Dante—was still unaccounted for.

His wolf muttered angrily.
Dante’s wolf is cunning, indeed. If he wasn’t such a villain, we could respect him.

Stone knew he could spend the rest of his time focused on finding Dante, but the bastard was holed up somewhere and clever enough to lay low. Poking a stick at the man wouldn’t make him show his face any faster.

A smart hunter knows when to walk away from the trail,
his wolf proclaimed.
We will let the quarry become complacent and careless.

Right. A few months from now, that’s when they’d try to track Dante down again.

So in the meantime... Stone idly twirled the ice in his glass. In the meantime, he had to find something to do. He wasn’t one to sit around watching TV and painting sunsets. Even a grunt job would do; heavy manual labour could be cleansing. Besides, Dee had practically left him penniless, managing to syphon off all the assets left by their father. He had his personal savings and that was it.

He eyed the bouncer by the door. A place like Club Mystique could always use some extra muscle. Shifters and Others were known to clash.

Has it come to this? Babysitting?
His wolf sighed, its ears drooping.

Stone agreed the idea held little appeal.

Maybe on the docks or in the warehouse district. Yeah, he could head down there in the morning.

“Looking too serious there, Stone.” Tina breezed by, her throwaway comment jerking him from his introspection. She expertly mixed some fruity concoction in a blender, added a liberal amount of alcohol and then poured it into the glasses she had arranged on a tray.

“Is looking serious against club policy?”

“It is on my shift.” She hefted the tray to shoulder height and prepared to make her way through the crowd. “I’ll be back in a few. I want to see you looking happier or I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“I’m trembling with fear.”

“And so you should be.” She leaned closer and spoke in a whisper. “My spells have been known to bring a man to his knees.”

His wolf stepped back warily.
Black magic? Is she threatening us?
The animal shook its head and then took up a stance.
Most likely a jest. There’s no scent of malice about her.

Stone nodded in agreement as he watched her weave between the dancers somehow managing to keep the tray of drinks out of harm’s way. He speculated on what kind of spells she favoured. Witches were secretive creatures speaking of spells and hexes without ever revealing much. Sometimes he wondered if it was all smoke and mirrors designed to keep the rest of the realm in awe of powers that were mediocre at best.

Maybe he should test his theory out. If she turned him into a frog, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about what he’d spend his time doing. The idea made him smile and his wolf scowl. Tina chose that moment to look his way. She gave him a thumbs up, perhaps thinking he was following her instructions to look happy. He raised his drink in a salute and then turned back to studying his glass.

Yeah, tomorrow he’d find a job. Something in the human realm, not part of Lycan world. His association with the Lycan governing body had always been rocky, their love of rules too constricting for him. His relationship to Deirdre had been the final nail in his coffin. He’d learned that the minute he’d set foot back on American soil. Deirdre and everything connected with her was anathema to Lycan Link. That wasn’t to say that they hadn’t made use of her services from time to time—black ops had to be carried out by someone—but officially she was considered the leader of a criminal organization, and, by association, so was he.

His fingers tightened on his glass as he thought of the path his baby sister had taken. That someone he’d once loved could—

“You’re looking serious again.” Tina interrupted his thoughts, plopping down on the seat beside him.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” He scowled at her, his thoughts having darkened his mood.

“I’m on my break.”

“And you’re spending it here because...?”

“I like helping people.”

“You think I need your help?” He quirked a brow at the absurdity of the idea.

We do not need the help of a witch!
His wolf stated indignantly.

“You’re sitting by yourself. You look lonely. You’re new here so maybe you need help finding a place to stay or eat. I know the city like the back of my hand.” She propped her elbow on the bar and then rested her chin in her palm. “Besides, I think you look interesting.”

“Do you often try to pick up strangers?”

“No. Just the ones that look like you.”

“And by that you mean?”

She shrugged. “There’s something about you. You’re not exactly handsome—”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t mean that the way it sounds. You’re not a pretty boy. Too rugged. And that scar gives you a dangerous vibe, but you’re still good-looking in an interesting way.”

He made a noncommittal noise.

“Plus you’re fit, muscular. I like that.”

“Anything else?”

“Well...the military haircut...” A speculative look came over her. “I wonder...”

“What?” For some reason the inane conversation held him captivated. He found himself enjoying listening to the cadence of her voice.

“I wonder what it would feel like to rub my hand over those short bristles.”

“You want to rub my head?” He sat up straight in surprise.

She laughed. “Weird, I know, but I’m into textures, just ask any of my profs.”

“My head is not a ‘texture’. Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Aww, come on, Stone. Let me rub your head. Just once?” She rose to her feet and stepped closer, her eyes sparkling.

“Tina.” He growled a half-hearted warning, curious as to how far she’d go. She ignored his grumbling, instead reaching out her hand to try to touch his head. He dodged one way and she followed suit giggling and somehow ended up leaning against him, both her hands held captive against his chest. They were face to face, mere inches separating them. A mischievous grin curved her lips.

Exactly why he did it he wasn’t sure but suddenly he pulled her close and kissed her. Maybe it was some witch trickery, maybe it was some long forgotten part of himself responding to her youthful exuberance. Whatever the reason, sparks of awareness flared between them and he angled his head, deepening the kiss.

Tina responded, sliding her hands up his chest to his shoulders, stroking his neck with her fingers. He rumbled his approval and then slowly, reluctantly, pulled away recalling where they were. He studied her upturned face. She wanted him and made no effort to hide the fact. Reason warred with desire inside him. He hadn’t come here tonight looking to get laid. It hadn’t even been on his radar and yet...

Unexpectedly, she darted her hand up and rubbed his head. “Ha! Got you!”

Stone jerked back, then narrowed his eyes. “You’ll pay for that, witch.”

“I hope so!” She nimbly stepped out of reach. “My break is over.”

“When is your shift done?” He listened to himself speak the words, knowing the implication, knowing he shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea.

She cocked her head, the mirth fading from her face. “Do you mean it?”

Did he? He nodded.

A crooked smile graced her lips. “I have an hour left.”

“I’ll wait here.” He turned back to his drink, no longer looking at her but intensely aware of her presence behind him. She stood there for a few seconds before returning to her duties.

He took a long drink of his water calling himself all kinds of a fool. She was too young for him, too flippant. He’d been to hell and back and felt as old as Methuselah. Yet did it matter? One night. That’s all it was. And she’d been the one to start things.