Bearing It All (Alpha Werebear Shifter Paranormal Romance) (17 page)

She could hear the grin in his voice. For a second, Violet let him distract her from the grant form she was supposed to be filling out. Maybe being chased really
was
worth being so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.

“Well?” she asked. “If you’re the one chasing me, you better have some kind of plan.”

Violet could almost hear the gears in Ash’s head turning.

He needed out. Worse than anything, he needed out. Ash thought about the way Violet felt against his body, the way her skin made him feel hot and cold all at once. He wanted out of the pit, out of the fights. It isn’t that he minded fighting, or putting on a show, or anything else – it was really that he wanted away from
Marlin
.

One more day was all he had to be with Violet before it was back on the road. Tomorrow was some burg outside Raleigh, the next day Roxboro, and the day after that... God only knew.

That wasn’t good enough. He remembered the way her hair smelled when he pulled her close and the way her lips tasted.

One more day wasn’t anywhere near enough.

“Early fight tonight,” he lied. “Want me to pick you up?”

“Is that a question?” Violet asked.

Ash looked out the window of the Clinton civic center’s back room. There was a deli tray between where he sat and the window. Decent enough deli tray, he thought, although the salami wasn’t very spicy and the lettuce was old.

He looked past it and at the motorcycle Marlin gave him for being the promotion’s headliner. It was more of a bribe than anything, but Crag never really understood what it was for. As he stared, pondering his escape from the life he didn’t want anymore, he suddenly realized it was a “shut up and stay that way” present. It was meant to keep him indebted to that nasty croc. It was meant to keep Ash from getting any stupid ideas.

“No,” he said, growling a little. She seemed to like that, from the way she purred when he did it. “Nope, not a question. I’ll pick you up at nine.”

“I can’t wait,” Violet said, with a cute little twist in her voice. “Should I wear anything specific? We don’t have many fancy places here, but—”

“As long as you’re you,” Ash growled, “I don’t care what you’re wearing. Just be you. Got it?”

Violet’s mouth fell open and she let one of her hands drop onto the table in front of her. “Y... yeah,” she said, about halfway to swooning. “Oh my God, yeah.”

“Good,” Ash said under his breath. “Be ready. Nine o’clock.”

He felt a little ridiculous making demands like that, but the way Violet reacted told him he was doing it
just
right. “See you then?” he asked. “See you then, I mean. Not a question.”

He grinned as he hung up. Imagining the deep crimson flush that spread like terminal anticipation over Violet’s cheeks, neck, and the part of her chest that was above the moderate dip in the neck of her sweater, he could almost taste her kisses, almost smell her scent.

I caught you once,
he thought, smiling.
Next time, it’ll be for good.

But for one more night, for one more fight, Ash had to pack that away. One last time, he had to be Crag.

*

“A
nother fuckin’ fight,” Marlin said, clicking his tongue after each word. Crag could almost see the dollar signs dancing before his promoter’s eyes. “Another fuckin’ buck. Someday Crag, my boy, you’re going to understand the world a little better. You’re gonna understand why I do what I do.”

Marlin took off the short-brimmed hat he always wore, and slid his hand over his scalp. “Look at this,” he said to Crag, jutting his nose toward the tiny television on his office desk.

On the screen, a man – one that was almost the same height as Crag, but nowhere near as thick around the shoulders, arms or legs – was poking around the scene of the most recent kidnapping.

“This oil-slicked asshole won’t stop talking,” Marlin said.

On the TV, Whit Whitman was chasing the long-haired guy around, asking him questions. Crag noticed there was some kind of tattoo coming out of the guy’s shirt, but he didn’t recognize him.

“Erik!” the news guy was shouting. “Mr. Danniken! Mayor! Alpha! Will you comment?”

“Comment on what?” the big guy answered, gruffly. “Two more girls are missing and the only lead we have is the butt of a cigar. Get out of here before I turn you into pudding.”

Marlin let a wry grin spread across his lips. “This is a special sort of place. Anywhere else, the mayor of a city threatening a reporter would be news. Here? It’s no wonder girls are going missing.”

Crag shot his boss a nasty look. He was scowling, making good and sure none of his softness showed. “He’s a good guy. When he started, I was leaving town for college. I never really knew Erik very well, but just from what I hear from my cousin, he’s done wonders for the place.”

“Wouldn’t be hard,” Marlin sneered. “These hick towns are all the same, no matter what happens to their residents when no one else is looking. I’m so tired of coming to shitheaps like this. Someday, Crag,” he said, reaching up and putting his hand on the big man’s shoulder, “someday we’re gonna go big.”

Crag gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw so hard it hurt.

So many things he wanted to say, so many ways he wanted to say them. But he wouldn’t. Crag Morgan clenched his fists, and listened to the tape squeak between his fingers. Someday, just like Marlin said, things were going to be different. In Crag’s mind though, they weren’t going to go at all like the round, scaly little man in front of him thought they would.

“What’s got you, Crag?” Marlin asked. “You’re so quiet today. Hangover?”

Crag shook his head. “Just thinking is all.” That much was true, at least. He’d never say exactly
what
he was thinking, though.

“That’ll get you in trouble,” Marlin said. “Too much thinking, not enough fighting. What’s on that lunk-like mind of yours, anyway?”

“A girl,” Crag replied. He shrugged. “It’s nothing, just... a girl.”

If nothing else, Marlin could appreciate a taste for women. And it wasn’t like he was lying, either. Ever since they were last together, Crag had barely slept or breathed or taken a drink or ate anything that he didn’t think of
her
. Those golden-brown, almond shaped eyes, that cute nose, those gorgeous hips... he felt a little bit like he was coming down with a Violet flu.

Crag snorted a laugh. “Nothing,” he said, preemptively answering Marlin. “I mean, nothing important. Just a girl I met at a bar last night.”

Marlin nodded in his obnoxious, sage-like way. Replacing his greasy hat on his greasy scalp, his eyes narrowed for a moment.

“Either way,” Marlin finally hissed, “don’t get too mixed up in all that. We’re road people, right? We’re not much more than carnies who sell violence instead of cotton candy.”

The short crocodile grunted and fished one of the cigars out of his pocket. He dug his teeth into the butt end, ripping it unevenly. He spat the end on the ground and jabbed it with the toe of his boot, sending the brown nub skittering across the ground.

“Why do you always bite them if you just chew on them?” Crag asked.

“Habit,” Marlin replied. “Hey, big guy, what would you say if I offered you a little business deal?”

Crag grimaced. “I’d say I think I’m busy enough. No more deals, Marlin,” he said. “I’m here because I have to be. You don’t have to pretend to like me, or anything else. I’m a fighter, that’s all I ever was.”

Marlin nodded. “Keep it up with the short sighted shit, Crag. You got no idea what you’re missing. Come on, follow me.”

Crag stayed quiet on the short walk to Marlin’s office. Once he was there, the trailer seemed more constricting, more like a prison, than it ever had before. He wanted out as badly as he wanted Violet. But how?

As Marlin settled back behind his desk, Crag eyed the cigars sticking out of his boss’s breast pocket, and the one bobbing between his teeth. Crag couldn’t help but wonder.

“These podunk fuckin’ towns? You can bleed them dry.” Marlin interrupted Crag’s ruminating. He licked his thin lips and started counting the fives on his desk again. Crag curled one corner of his lip in a disapproving grimace. “They love it, you know. These hillbilly clowns show up to the fights because there’s nothin’ better to do, and before you know it, you’ve got a bunch of them throwing around money they don’t have. Best of both worlds.”

Crag shook his head, trying to figure out what in the world Marlin was talking about. Before he put much brain power into that dubiously useful goal, someone came down the hall, snorting loudly, and pushed open the door.

“Hey, uh, boss?” It was Ralphie, Marlin’s bookie-slash-accountant-slash-ass kisser. Crag got along with pretty much everyone, even Marlin somehow, but Ralphie? He couldn’t stand Ralphie.

Marlin sighed loudly, and popped open one of the flavored, canned, sparkling waters he habitually drank. “What is it, Ralphie? Don’t take too long with your stuttering, neither, we got fights soon.”

Ralphie swallowed three or four times and wiped the sweat off his tip lip with the back of a trembling hand. Crag hadn’t ever exactly figured out why he was so afraid of Marlin, but it was probably because everyone seemed to be.

After all, the crooked croc
did
have everyone in his “employ” by the balls, one way or the other. With Crag it was working off a debt. He shook his head, refusing to think about that anymore.

He had one fight tonight, and then he got to see that girl, Violet, that he couldn’t get out of his head. The same one he’d been letting run wild in his imagination since about twelve hours before when she stopped him cold.

She wants me to chase her?
Crag thought.
I’m not gonna let up until I catch her, until I have her for good. She doesn’t know what she’s got herself into, wanting me to chase her. But... I’ve never had anyone get in my head like this.

S
orry, boss, but uh, you know,” Ralphie snorted, breaking Crag’s brief respite from real life.

He knew he couldn’t chase her. Not after tonight. Train kept a-rollin’. Always kept a-rollin’. Unless he got away from Marlin and the fights, he’d never be able to chase Violet.

“No, goddamnit, I don’t know, Ralphie,” Marlin said, the wattle under his head shaking wildly. “Talk! We gotta go, come on, Crag!”

The unlikely threesome made their way from the trailer that served as Marlin’s office when they were on the road – which was almost all the time – and the makeshift stadium. Jamesburg was about an hour’s drive from where they stood.

That meant of course, that Violet was about an hour away.

Once again, as they tromped toward the busily-working road crew, with Ralphie stuttering and Marlin groaning at him, Crag could
not
stop himself from thinking about her. About the way her eyes flashed when she talked. He lingered for a second, remembering how her lips tasted when he finally kissed her, and how eagerly she’d kissed him back.

Crag closed his big, brown eyes, inhaling deeply. She was right there – Violet was an inch away – he still smelled her hair, that delicate aroma of some flower he couldn’t remember what to call.

“What are you smiling about, you big jackass?” Marlin snapped. “Weren’t you listening to any of that? We’ve got a problem and you’re going to solve it for me.”

Letting the imagined scent of lavender – that’s what it was, lavender – trickle out of his nose. He flared his nostrils, just a little. “No,” he said in his deep, bellowing voice. “What is it?”

“Breaker and that jobber from down south, they’re both
sick
.” The way Marlin said ‘sick’ meant something else. “Fuckin’ ingrates don’t know a good thing when they have it. Anyway, you’ll cover for them.”

Crag furrowed his brow and took another breath. “Weren’t they fighting each other?”

“Fuck!” Marlin shouted. “I don’t know, were they, Ralphie? I thought this was two different fights.”

Ralphie kept shaking. Crag always thought he’d make a great weasel. Unfortunately for Ralphie, he was just the way he was – not a shifting bone in his body.

“N – n – no, I dunno, boss, yes?” Ralphie stammered. “Let me look.”

“Look! Goddamnit, look!” Marlin swung one of his arms and knocked the schedule card Ralphie was carrying onto the ground. Ralphie stood and stared at him, eyes so wide that Crag thought for a second he was about to turn into a possum.

Crag laughed, but made sure to keep it to himself.

“You knocked it on the gr—”

“Pick it up!” Marlin shrieked, hitting Ralphie on the back of his head. Poor Ralphie’s hair went all over the place – literally – his toupee fell on the ground. “Pick it up and look!”

Ralphie didn’t bother responding until he’d set his hair back on top of his head, and looked over the card. “Yup,” he said.

Marlin let his jaw go slack, opened his eyes wide and shook his head back and forth so hard his jowls slapped. “Yup. Yup? All you say is ‘yup’? Yup what?” he was starting to turn a little green.

That wasn’t good.

Crag put his hand on his boss’s shoulder to calm him down. It usually worked. Especially since Crag outweighed him by about a hundred pounds of muscle.

“S – s – sorry boss,” Ralphie said. “I me – mean yup, they’re fighting each other.”

“Fuck!” Marlin shouted. “Okay here’s what we do. You got the main event again tonight, right?”

Crag nodded.

“So that means we move that fight to the beginning of the card, and instead of having those two chucklefucks, we’ll have Crag fight... do we have any extras tonight?” Marlin’s brain was working. He was hatching a plan.

Crag hated it when Marlin hatched a plan because it almost always involved him. After all, Crag was the one in the deepest. He owed Marlin everything and that slimy croc wasn’t ever going to let him forget.

Three years of desperate gambling to pay off debt ended with more debt. And since Crag didn’t have much to his name, he turned to a loan shark to make ends meet. The ends, they never met. The loan shark though, was standing right in front of him in a powder blue leisure suit.

Not like he had anywhere to go, anyway.