Gambling on Her Bear (Shifters in Vegas) (18 page)

“They’re good guys,” Tina added quickly. “Hard-working. Honest.”

She sure hoped so.

“…a little rough around the edges, maybe…”

Jess pictured natty beards, worn jeans, western drawls.

“…but I’m sure they’ll be fine. And they can really use your help.”

That was another thing. Everything Tina
didn’t
say suggested the saloon wasn’t exactly off to a stellar start. Not that Jess minded hard work, but it would be nice to be part of a successful, competent team.

“Anything you need, you let me know,” Tina said.

“Thanks,” Jess said, meeting her eyes so Tina knew she meant it. The she-wolf had gone out of her way to help Jess and Janna from the very start.

She’s got a soft spot for outcasts,
Tina’s mate, Rick, had explained back on the ranch, when he’d looked at Tina like she was the sun and he was the moon, devoted to orbiting faithfully to the end of his days.

The saloon doors — a pair of real saloon doors that swung both ways — split open, and a tall figure strode out.

“Hello, Ty,” Tina said while Jessica and Janna hung back.

Tina was probably the only person west of the Missouri who could greet that man so casually. Jessica’s eyes hit the ground, and not just because it was a required sign of submission to the alpha of Twin Moon pack. The man had a pointed, laser glare, and sheer wolf power sloughed off him in waves.

“Hi,” he growled.

Once upon a time, Jess had made a habit of showing such men she wasn’t easily impressed, but she’d been on the run long enough to know to keep her place. Just in case.

“Don’t mind my brother,” Tina whispered out of the corner of her mouth, then swept right by him and into the saloon.

Ty Hawthorne held the left half of the saloon door open in a surprisingly polite gesture for an alpha that powerful, and for a moment, the
watch-your-step-on-my-turf
aura he gave off softened to a more gentle,
you’ll-be-safe-here
.

Jess took a last, deep breath and walked through the doors, feeling as if she were leaping into a deep, murky pool.

At first, she couldn’t see anything, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, she could make out the trappings of an authentic saloon. Four poker tables stood in the middle, and booths lined the sides. A weathered sign on the right read,
Check your guns at the door
, and it was hard to tell whether the message was a gag or not. Otherwise, the walls were decorated with black-and-white scenes of the frontier town in days gone by — all covered with enough dust to suggest that the new management hadn’t changed the decor. Or the menu, judging by the faded chicken-scratch on the chalkboard by the front door. Not a soul in sight, but then, it was ten in the morning — before opening time.

Janna, of course, waltzed right in. “Great! A pool table.”

There was a dartboard, too, a standup piano, and an old jukebox to one side. But the centerpiece of the saloon, and the thing that had Jess halt dead in her tracks, was the bar itself. A huge, oak masterpiece that took up all of the back wall. Bottles of booze glittered in the light bouncing off the huge mirror in the middle section, and an antique Winchester hung over the top. But it was the woodwork that caught her eye. Intricately carved wooden supports held up each of the many shelves, and a mountain scene was etched into the upper panel. A wolf howled at the moon, a bear waded in a stream, and an eagle soared overhead.

“Gorgeous,” she murmured.

A finely crafted latticework covered the entire upper section, all the way to the molded tin ceiling of the room. The bar itself was polished to a glow in the sunlight filtering through the windows, as was the brass footrail underneath.

Two things were immediately evident. First, someone had put a hell of a lot of time into carving that bar a long, long time ago. Second, someone very recently had put a hell of a lot of time into restoring it all.

“Nice, huh?” Tina murmured.

“More than nice. It’s spectacular,” she agreed.

“My great-uncle made it, ninety years ago.”

Pool balls clicked behind them, and Jessica spun to see her sister blow at the tip of a pool stick like a gunslinger who’d just made the perfect shot. Knowing Janna, it
was
a perfect shot. But didn’t they have more important things to do, like meeting their new boss?

Jessica looked around. Spider webs filled the other corners of the place, but damn did that bar gleam. If the guy put as much work into the rest of the place as he had into the bar, it wouldn’t be half bad. But the tables were crooked, the chairs chipped. The saloon had seen more than one brawl in its time. She was sure of that.

“Hello?” Tina called. Her voice echoed down a narrow hallway that appeared to lead to the kitchen and a back room.

“Coming,” a deep voice came from out of sight.

Jessica’s wolf perked its ears. Froze. Practically pointed like a goddamn hunting dog, too. She gave it a mental swat, but the beast didn’t budge. What the hell was that about?

Her nostrils flared, but all she could pick up was the scent of the shifters around her and the stale smell of French fries.

“Be right there,” a second voice came. A low, rumbly voice, like that of a bear roused from his den.

Her wolf soul had been slumbering for most of the morning, but now, it jumped up and down, growling at the bars of its cage. Wagging its tail frantically from a crazy cocktail of mixed emotions. Excitement with a splash of hope, a touch of arousal, and a whole lot of fear, clinking around like a couple of ice cubes in a whiskey glass.

What?
She wanted to scream at her wolf.
What?

Two square-shouldered forms stepped out of the shadows of the hallway, one half a step ahead of the other. Big, burly men who moved like bulldozers, confident that any living thing would back the hell out of their way. Each slowed to brush a shoulder against the doorframe as he came through, the way some shifters did to mark their turf.

Short, sandy hair. Scruffy stubble. Dark, wary eyes. Huge, steely hands clenched into fists. Two men who couldn’t be anything but brothers.

A warm rush of adrenaline exploded inside her and bounced around her veins, and her mind whirled.
Not possible. It couldn’t be…

Part of her wanted to flee; the other part wanted to leap into an embrace. The man in front looked permanently stern, while the one behind smiled. At least, he did until he spotted her.

“Jessica Macks,” Tina started the introductions, “meet—”

“Simon,” Jess blurted, looking over the shoulder of the first man toward the second. “Voss,” she finished, going weak in the knees.

The man she’d never stopped loving, no matter how hard she tried. The bear shifter who still inhabited all of her dreams.

Mate!
Her wolf whimpered in joy.
Mate!

Blue eyes the color of the coldest, clearest alpine lake locked on hers and refused to let go.

“Jessica,” he murmured, too low for human ears.

Her wolf did a crazy tap dance.
Mate! Mine!

“Wow!” Janna exclaimed, clueless as ever. “Simon?” Then she turned to the older brother — the one who was bigger, broader, and burlier, but only by a hair. “Soren? Oh my God! It really is you.”

“Good to see you,” Soren mumbled as his eyes darted between Jess and Simon.

“This is amazing!” Janna declared.

Tina tipped her head sideways in a gesture that said,
This is unexpected.

Jessica shook her head furiously, trying to break Simon’s unwavering gaze.
This is not possible.
No way. No how. The man who’d pretended to love her, then cast her aside?

“This…” Simon uttered in his deep, edgy bass. A sound like a shovel scraping against rock, guaranteed to send tingles to every fenced-off corner of her body and mind. “This will never work.”

Jess edged toward the doorway, trying to keep the wobbling pieces of her heart together long enough to make her escape.

She shook her head and echoed him, trying to convince her wolf. “This will never work.”

* * *

Of course, it will! Find out exactly how these destined mates work their way back into each other’s arms. Get your own copy of
Damnation
here
!

Rae has a secret — one she can’t allow any wolf pack to discover. But with an old enemy hot on her heels, she has no option but to trust Zack, the man from the wrong side of the tracks. Taking off on the back of Zack’s Harley seems like good idea at first, but when she lowers her defenses for the captivating coyote shifter, she might just be risking it all.

The new she-wolf in town may be strictly off-limits, but Zack just can’t keep away. When the thrill of the chase gets his blood pumping in more ways than one, he’s ready to overstep every boundary and break every rule. Destiny says she’s his — but the pack’s ruling alpha says she belongs to another.

Twin Moon Ranch is home to a pack of shapeshifting wolves willing to battle for life and love. With rogues, vampires, and human incursions threatening the pack and their mates, the Hawthorne clan has trouble, guaranteed.
Read on for the first chapter of
Desert Hunt.

* * *

“Rae!”

It was a barked order, not a request.

Rae gritted her teeth and counted to five before turning slowly and facing the source: Sabrina, the daughter of the ruling alpha. Still a spoiled brat at seventeen. Rae didn’t want to imagine what the girl might be like in another couple of years.

“My father wants you in his office. Now.” Sabrina underpinned the command with a flick of her glossy mane.

Rae wouldn’t have thought it was possible for a werewolf to be a princess, but there it was. Sabrina made damn sure she punctuated every sentence with a jangle of gold bracelets and the same two words—
my father
—reminding everyone of the pecking order around here.

That was one of the bitter truths of pack hierarchy. The alphas and their offspring ruled the roost, and the rest of the pack had no choice but to fight or submit. Twenty-eight hardscrabble years had taught Rae that all too well.

She chipped another little piece off her soul and did as directed, pretending to be like the others. A good little female meant for hearth and home—and definitely, definitely, not for the hunt.

She worked off the tension steeling her jaw, reminding herself she had something far, far more special in her heritage than alpha blood. Something secret. But she’d be damned if she let on to anyone. A pack would claim her forever if they found out, and then she’d never be free.

“Do you ever bother looking in a mirror?” Sabrina smirked, eyeing Rae’s tangled hair.

Not nearly as often as you.
She nearly shot the words out but caught herself on the first syllable. So what if her long brown hair was usually thrown into a loose ponytail? So what if her figure said
athlete
and not
cover girl
? That’s who she was, and she liked it that way. She’d leave the plunging necklines to curvy girls like Sabrina, because attracting unwanted attention could be a dangerous thing.

She set off, finger-combing her hair on the way to the alpha’s office and flicking away a burr she’d picked up some time that morning. So she’d been out wandering again. Was that so wrong for one of their kind?

Except she wasn’t exactly their kind. Oh, she was a wolf shifter all right, but one born to another pack. And even back home in Colorado, she’d always been a little different. The one who didn’t quite fit in.

Her inner wolf let out a snort.
A lot different. If only they knew.

Rae eyed the alpha’s office door warily before giving it a nervous knock. There was a grunt, and she entered, dropping her eyes in the required sign of subordination to the grizzled old alpha and his haughty mate. Even after all these years at Westend pack, the gesture didn’t come easily.

“Your lucky day has come,” Roric announced, curt and cold. “Pack your things.”

For this alpha, a smile and a sneer were one and the same. What did he mean by
lucky day?

She glanced uncertainly at his mate, who frowned in acid disapproval of Rae’s dusty jeans, her plain blue T-shirt, her… Well, her everything.

“Get moving.” Roric jutted his square chin toward the door. “Another pack is willing to try you out for a season.”

Rae’s heart thumped. She’d been hoping something would come along in another pack—a job, an internship, anything. She’d had enough of Nevada. Not so much the heat or the dusty flats but the stifling hierarchy of Roric’s Westend pack. That and the fact that these shifters had sold their souls. Gambling was big business in Nevada, but as far as Rae was concerned, it was a business wolf packs had no place in. What happened to their connection to the earth, to the old ways?

Unfortunately, Roric’s pack had only let go of
some
of the old ways. They’d clung to the rest: the crushing, absolutist authority, the strict delineation of male and female roles. The only consolation was that Roric wasn’t as bad as some others—like the alpha Rae had fled in Colorado ten years before. Here, her body was safe. And by now, she’d learned the ropes. If she toed the line carefully, she had a modicum of freedom. After all, no one ever paid attention to what the odd wolf out did on the night of a new moon.

But who knew what it would be like in a different pack?

“Where?” she blurted.

Roric waved a lazy hand as if it were all the same to him. But that gesture, like so many others, was probably rehearsed. This alpha didn’t do anything without analyzing it for the benefits—to him and his pack. Individual wishes didn’t register on his list.

“Arizona. Twin Moon Ranch.”

She caught a breath. When she’d put in a request for a transfer, she’d been thinking East Coast, where the packs were said to be more modern-minded. But Arizona? Wolf packs in the Four Corners area were known to be old school. And Arizona—that was old-old school. Who knew what kind of alpha she’d have there?