Fierce Player (Sierra Pride Book 4) (7 page)
Read Fierce Player (Sierra Pride Book 4) Online
Authors: Liza Street
“Who are we calling first?” Maverick asked.
“Justine, because it’s later in Montana.” Gabriel tapped in her number.
Maverick reached over and tucked a strand of hot pink hair behind Kate’s ear. She leaned closer to him, kissing his cheek. “Everything’s going to be okay, I just know it,” she whispered.
“Yeah?” Maverick said.
“Yeah. I bet you a chocolate cake that things will work out.”
He grinned and kissed her back. “I’ll take that bet.”
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Chapter One
Quentin Armstrong parked in front of the Stark Street Diner and scrolled through his texts, looking for his next job. He paused over a request from the Weston Pride in southern Oregon—they needed someone to safely transport one of their daughters to Arizona. If anyone asked, he would have said he liked transporting jobs because they usually involved women, and he liked sitting next to them and looking at them and smelling them in his car. But the truth of it was, he didn’t care who he transported; he just liked pretending—for a few hours or a few days—that he belonged with a family group.
Real cougars were solitary creatures, but shifter cougars were primarily human, and to Quentin, solitude was pretty fucking lonely.
He started to text the Weston Pride’s alpha, but stopped. Did he feel like pretending again? Every time, he’d drop off the woman and face a trip back to nowhere or anywhere, alone.
Never make a decision on an empty stomach
, his mom used to tell him. So he shoved his phone in his pocket and went into the diner.
Myriad scents greeted his nose—buttermilk pancakes, spicy breakfast sausages, eggs, cheese, grease, coffee. He settled into a booth, his jeans sticking against the vinyl, and opened the menu.
A server sashayed over, her mouth wide in a smile. Her hair was reddish blond—not the white-blond of Quentin’s close-cropped cut—and fell in curls around her shoulders. She leaned in close to Quentin, and he could see straight down her v-neck shirt. Black lace bra.
Maybe she lived close by. Maybe he wasn’t so hungry after all, at least not for food.
“What can I get you?” she asked, a flirtatious lilt in her voice.
He could think of at least a dozen things, and he opened his mouth to say so.
His damn phone rang.
He almost picked it up. It never rang, so it might be important. But he was mesmerized by those tits and that lace. He pushed a button to ignore the call.
The corner of the server’s mouth quirked up.
“You can start by giving me your name,” he said.
“Jenny. What’s yours, blondie?”
“Kyle.” He always lied. He lied every time, because he’d never stick around long enough for it to matter. “When do you get off work?”
She glanced at the other server, a brunette who stood at the cash register watching the two of them. The brunette gave Quentin a quick finger wave when she saw him looking at her.
“Friend of yours?” he asked.
“She’ll cover for me. I could leave now.”
“That sounds—”
His phone rang. Again. With a curse, he picked it up and looked at the caller ID.
If it had been anyone else, he’d have silenced it and probably chucked the phone in the trash for good measure. But it was Gabriel Fournier.
“Shit,” he said. “I have to take this.”
He stood up to go, and she put out a hand as if she wanted to stop him. “Will you be coming back?”
“Don’t know.” He was already pulling the phone to his ear.
“At least let me give you my number—”
But he was already out the door. Too risky to have phone conversations with other shifters while he was in public. Sometimes things slipped or sounded weird. It wasn’t something he was willing to risk.
“Q!” Gabriel said.
“Yeah.”
“Long time, man.”
“Cut the shit, Gabe. What the fuck do you want? You don’t call for years”—almost four, to be exact—”and then you call me twice in five minutes.”
There was silence on Gabe’s end. Quentin turned and leaned against his car, staring toward the diner. Jenny was talking to the other server, waving her arms with emotion. Well, that was one bridge burned. Probably for the best.
“I deserve that, Q, I do. I’m sorry we’ve been out of touch. But we need you.”
“I’m trying to get out of this. Not take more work.” Lie. “I want to settle down.” Truth. “But funny, no one’s offering to let me stay in their territory.”
“You still want that?” Gabe said. “Territory?”
Quentin took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out again. Quietly, he said, “Yeah. My cougar wants to settle. Are you going to let an Armstrong live in your territory?”
“You’re always welcome here, Q. Always.”
That was the thing—Quentin believed him. It was easier for shifters to lie on the phone, but Gabe wouldn’t lie to him about something like this. The problem was, Quentin hadn’t shared the whole truth. He didn’t only want a patch of territory to roam around in—he wanted a pride. He wanted
family
. For one short year, he’d gotten that with the Fourniers.
“Aunt Nan would be turning in her grave right now,” Quentin said.
“Aunt Nan didn’t always make the best decisions,” Gabe answered.
Quentin gasped in feigned shock. “Sacrilege!” Then he remembered why they were even speaking right now. Sighing, he asked, “What’s the job?”
“We haven’t heard from Cora, and we’re worried.”
Just like Gabe to say it straight. Quentin missed the Sierra Pride more than they’d ever know.
“How long since last contact?”
“Three years,” Gabe said. “When Nan sent her and Justine off.”
“Holy
shit
. And you’re just calling me now?”
“Nan told us not to contact them—she said the sisters would call when it was safe.”
“Justine’s okay?”
“Yeah, she couldn’t talk long, but she reassured us she’s fine. But Cora—she hasn’t answered any calls, and we can’t get in touch with the Nevada Pride.”
“I hate those assholes. Bryan especially.” Territory-hoarders. Anyone wanting to get through Nevada had to kowtow to the old alpha, Jerome. Quentin had met him and he hadn’t been able to pick up a good read on either Jerome or the younger brother. But Bryan, the older brother and next in line for alpha, was the biggest prick Quentin had ever met.
“Yeah, me too,” Gabe said. “But you’re the only one with the skills to get in and out safely. Will you do it?”
“You know I will.”
“Great. Thank you.”
There was a shuffling sound on the phone, and Gabe growled. “My mate won’t forgive me if I don’t give the phone to Hera.”
Quentin scowled. “Your mate?”
“It really has been too long, Q.”
What the holy fuck was going on. Gabriel had a
mate
? “Well, congrats. What pride is she from?”
Gabe laughed. “This one, now. Miranda’s not a shifter.”
Quentin didn’t know what to say to that. Usually shifters mated to other shifters, but it wasn’t unheard of to take a human mate.
Clearing his throat, Gabe said, “Anyway, Blake’s mate, Hera—another human, I might add—has a favor to ask you. Will you talk to her?”
Blake’s mate. Gabriel’s mate.
“How many mates do y’all have now?” Quentin asked. “And what the fuck is in the water up there?”
Gabe cracked up at that. “There are four mates now. Miranda—she’s with me. Ava and Jude are back together. Hera, who’s with Blake, and Kate’s with Maverick.”
Quentin shook his head. Incredible. “Yeah, sure I’ll talk to her.
There was a brief pause, and a woman’s voice said, “Hi, I’m Hera. I know you don’t know me, but I have a favor to ask. I’ll totally pay you, though.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sure, what is it?”
“I have a friend in Reno, Emma Koons. At least, I think she’s in Reno. Would you mind looking her up? She isn’t returning my calls, and I’m about to go over there myself, but Blake doesn’t want me to go right now—”
“Because she’s
pregnant
!” another woman shouted in the background.
He could practically hear Hera grinning. “That’s Miranda. She’s, um, very excited about the baby.” Hera cleared her throat, suddenly serious. “Anyway, if you could find Emma and just make sure she’s okay? And maybe tell her to call me at my new number?”
She sounded confused and sad. Quentin knew what that was like, to feel abandoned by friends.
“Anything else you can tell me about her?” he asked.
“She’s a ballerina with a company in Reno, that’s all I know. I’ll text you her photo. So you’ll do it?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it. No problem.”
He winced.
No problem
. Saying those words almost guaranteed there would be a problem.
The Sierra Pride Series
Fierce Player
Fierce Dancer (due out September 2016)
Fierce Informer (due out October 2016)
Fierce Survivor (due out November 2016)
Fierce Lover (due out December 2016)
An exclusive short story featuring Ava and Jude from
Fierce Heartbreaker
is available now to subscribers of Liza's mailing list! Visit Liza's website for details, or
click here
to join!
About Liza
Liza got her start in romance by sneak-reading her grandma’s paperbacks. Years later, she tried her own hand as a ghostwriter of romance. It wasn’t long before she heard the call of the wild—the call of shapeshifters, to be exact—and she couldn’t resist developing her own series. Now she divides her time between freelance editing, ghostwriting, and the mountain lion shifters in the Sierra Pride.
A Note from Liza
Thank you soooo much for reading
Fierce Player
! One thing I’ve learned in this business is that reviews help authors a whole lot. If you loved
Fierce Player
(and even if you didn’t!), an honest review would be an immense favor.
If reviews aren’t your thing, I thank you anyway for doing me the honor of reading my book.
Love,
Liza
Acknowledgments
Fierce Player
and the Sierra Pride series would not have been possible without the loving guidance and spot-on feedback given by my critique partners: Tori Knightwood, Pat, Kary, Shyla, Alythia, and Rochelle. Thank you! You awesome women have helped my dream come true! Special thanks to my fellow authors and reviewers: Alexandria Warwick, Liberty Gilmore, and Sibyl Eisley. And finally, many thanks to my friends and family for listening to me obsess about these characters for months. And to J—thank you for your understanding and your encouragement. I couldn’t do this without you.
Copyright page
Fierce Player, Book 4 of the Sierra Pride
by Liza Street
Copyright 2016 Liza Street. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or used fictitiously.
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