Damnation: Reckless Desires (Blue Moon Saloon Book 1) (14 page)

The wolf’s glare pulsed with power, with demand. But way in the back, something else flickered gently, like a single candle in the eye of the storm. Understanding, maybe. Ty Hawthorne had a mate of his own. He would respect the mating bond, right?

The glare went on and on, and just when Simon thought he’d died of suffocation, the wolf let up.

Understanding glowed yellow under the black. Understanding and respect. Not that the alpha would let them off easy.

“The last thing we need is to draw the Blue Bloods’ attention here,” Ty said, still looming over the table.

“We hunted them once,” Soren said, butting in to relieve him. “We can do it again.”

But that was the thing, and all three of them knew it. Simon and Soren had already hunted the murderers down. Each and every one involved in the Black River massacre. But where one fell, two more sprung up, united by a sick ideology of hate.

Ty shook his head, and Simon waited for the alpha to blurt out a reply. One that said something like,
Get the hell out of our territory. Good-bye and good luck.

Where would he and Jess go? What would they do?

“No,” Ty said. “We need to think this over.”

We?
Simon’s ears perked up.

“Rally our allies…” the wolf went on. “Gather intel…”

Simon studied the alpha. Was Ty saying what his bear hoped for?

“We’re working on it,” Ty said. “Believe me, we’re working on it. But we need time.”

“And in the meantime…” Simon held his breath.

Ty kept up the glare, but the force of it was focused elsewhere now. On the real enemy — the Blue Blood rogues. “In the meantime, we need to bring those two she-wolves to the ranch. To protect them.”

Simon just about jumped to his feet to protest, but Soren’s phone beeped again. All three of them turned their anger to the device.

“Get it,” Ty barked.

Simon looked out the diner windows, clenching his fists. He should be the one protecting Jess, not the wolves.

“Damn,” Soren cursed, looking at the text. “Kyle’s been called to an accident. He’s had to leave the saloon.”

Simon would have whipped around to check the message with his own eyes, but a red pickup driving past grabbed his attention. A big Ford with tinted windows and Oklahoma plates.

“We need to get back there soon,” Soren said.

Simon gripped the edge of the table, still intent on the road outside. Why did that pickup alarm his bear so?

A second truck drove past, almost a carbon copy of the first, and he tracked it with his eyes. The diner door opened with a departing customer, and the scent of the street wafted in. Tarmac, heating under the sun. A streak of oil, spilled on the road. And a distant hint of a warm-blooded creature with ice in its soul.

Simon jumped out of the booth. “Rogues! We need to get there right now!”

“Rogues,” Ty hissed, nearly in the same breath.

The three of them sprinted for the door, ignoring the waitress’ squeak of protest.

“My truck!” Soren shouted. “Get in my truck!”

Ty’s vehicle was too far, so all three of them piled in. Soren revved the engine to life and peeled onto the street, leaving tire marks and the scent of burning rubber.

A horn blared. Ty pointed at the red vehicles, speeding through an intersection ahead.

“Go! Go!” Simon yelled.

Ty punched the keys of his phone, muttering Kyle’s name.

The light turned yellow, and Soren stomped on the gas.

The light turned red. Soren swore and leaned over the steering wheel, racing on.

Something roared from the right. Screamed, like a meteor hurtling through space. Simon turned just in time to see the grill of a massive eighteen-wheeler barrel down on the side window.

“Shit!”

The next thing he knew, Soren’s truck was skidding sideways. Metal groaned. Fiberglass crunched. His bones cried out. Then everything went black, and his world turned off like a light.

Jess hummed while she cleaned the bar counter. She and Janna had everything ready to go for the evening rush, which probably wouldn’t be much of a rush, given the fact that the rodeo was still running on the outskirts of town. That was where all the action was that evening, which suited her just fine. She was still processing it all. A night of near-terror that had turned into peace. The feeling of two joined souls instead of a single, lonely one.

She’d slept the soundest, deepest sleep she had in years and awoken to Simon stroking her face with wonder in his eyes.
Are you really here? Are you really mine?

She wanted to ask him the same thing.

Still wanted to ask him, but he’d gone off with Soren. Never mind. It gave her a chance to replay the morning and cherish every detail once more. Like when she kissed him in the wee hours of morning, then grimaced.

“That bad, huh?” he had asked.

“No!” she’d said a little too loudly for dawn on a Sunday, and then again, more quietly. “No. It’s just this…this…” She held up a finger blackened with soot.

“Grime,” he filled in, kissing it right off her skin.

The kissing part, she liked. But the grime threatened to bring her old nightmares back. So they’d slowly rolled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom for a shower.

She had padded out of her room a step ahead of Simon, then whispered back to him. “Coming?”

She turned to glance back and froze at the sight of Simon rubbing up against the doorjamb to her room. Rubbing good and hard, marking his turf. The way he’d nuzzled her in bed, marking her as his, too.

And the crazy thing was, she didn’t even mind. Didn’t mind the tight squeeze into the claw-foot bathtub, either, even if it wasn’t designed to shower two.

“I’ll do you, you do me,” he had half whispered, half growled.

And yeah, he did her all right. Did her good and well once they’d dried off and headed out — to his room, this time. He couldn’t get her to the bed fast enough for either of their tastes, but when he had…

She’d hummed in satisfaction afterward and snuggled against him, just like before. Feeling so clean. So fresh. So blissfully worn out that the next time she’d opened her eyes, it was light. Bright daylight, shining into Simon’s room. A room just as sparsely furnished as Soren’s, except for one thing. There was a photo pinned to the wall above the bed. A wallet-size photo worn around the edges. It showed a lush green background and two familiar faces that made her catch her breath.

A photo of the two of them they’d snapped one perfect Montana afternoon at the edge of a carnival that had come through the county. Simon stood behind her, half a head taller and nearly twice as wide, ducking his chin to rest on her shoulder. She was wearing his flannel shirt and sporting her old hairstyle. Both of them so young and in love and clueless about what would come next.

“You kept this picture…” She traced the edge, barely breathing.

He nodded slowly. “Took it with me when I went back East.”

Her eyes had filled with warm tears, looking at her past. “Janna and I lost everything the night the Blue Bloods came. Everything. Every person, every thing. Our families. Our home. Albums, keepsakes…” She fingered the photo gingerly and gulped the tears back.

He didn’t say anything. Just pulled her into his arms and held her tight, telling her she hadn’t quite lost everything. She still had him. Her faithful bear, who’d never stopped loving her, after all.

Just as she’d never stopped loving him. She’d tried and tried to hate him, but it never really worked. For good reason.

Destiny.

She’d lain quietly pondering that for the next few minutes. Was still pondering now, hours later. Being with Simon felt so right. More right than the past three years without him, that was for sure.

“A hell of a night,” he had whispered with a wry grin.

She’d just nodded. A hell of a night.

But life went on. The clock kept ticking, right up to opening time, and right up to the time when Soren had hauled Simon away on some errand, promising they’d be right back.

Which meant it was just her and Janna, getting the saloon ready for opening time. Jess wiped glasses behind the bar while Janna prepped the silverware, grumbling the whole time. Her sister had been uncharacteristically grumpy ever since she’d tumbled out of bed at noon.

“You okay?” she tried.

“Fine,” Janna barked back.

Hungover, maybe? Jess didn’t ask. All she knew was that her sister smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and stale sweat, even after a shower. Bar smells, in other words, which was typical for Janna on a Saturday night. The grumpy mood wasn’t, though, and neither was the scent layered over the rest. The faint scent of cowboy. Leather, oak, a touch of horse, and a tiny trace of sweat. The nice kind of sweat, with a whole lot of man in it.

The next time Janna walked by, Jess took a second surreptitious sniff, and her eyebrows promptly shot up. It wasn’t wolf-cowboy scent. It was pure human. Cole-scent, to be precise. Had Janna been dancing with the broken cowboy last night? His scent was clear enough to hint that they’d been slow dancing, and close. What else had she done with Cole last night?

But Janna wouldn’t say a word, and Jess didn’t pry.

The saloon doors opened with one creak, then another, and booted feet clomped into the saloon. Jess didn’t turn or glance in the bar mirror. She need one more second of daydreaming about Simon and fate and maybe even forever, and then she’d be back on the job.

“Be right there,” Janna said, forcing a perky voice. She turned from the corner table to the newcomers. “What can I get y—”

Jess spun around at the alarm in her sister’s voice.

“You,” the man nearest the bar said simply. “We want you.”

Jess stared at him. A middle-aged man clad in blinding white-on-white with a face that gave nothing away. Two younger, burlier men flanked him, and another filed in behind, letting the doors swing in weighty silence.

Jess didn’t need to have ever laid eyes on the men to know who they were. Didn’t need her nose to finally register the stale rogue smell. These were wolves. Rogues. Blue Bloods, as the blue rings tattooed on their fingers proclaimed.

Purity! Purity!
The eerie chant rose up from her memories.

“Now, we figured a couple of young and impressionable she-wolves might make the mistake of associating with the wrong species…” the man in white started, speaking casually. Like a minister warming up to the body of a sermon that would build to fire and brimstone before too long.

Whyte. Victor Whyte. The leader of the purist rogues.

Jess looked around wildly for some weapon or means of escape.

“The wrong kind?” Janna sneered. “You mean, as opposed to you?”

Victor Whyte smiled indulgently and went on as if he hadn’t heard.

“But to make the mistake of associating with bears a second time, why, that sounds like those she-wolves haven’t learned their lesson.” He flashed his teeth — long, wolf teeth. When Whyte leaned in a moment later, his tone dropped to pure malice. “We’re here to teach them.”

Janna brandished her beverage tray like a weapon. “Sure,” she spat back. “Teach me.”

Jess inched backward, trying to think. Four-to-two were bad odds, whether they shifted to wolf form or stayed on two feet. The front door was blocked by one of the rogues — a big one. Too big to get past. The antique Winchester hanging high over the bar wasn’t loaded, and even if she got it down before the rogues got to her, she’d never make it to the silver bullets Soren kept in the cash register in time.

The preacher-type sighed and looked at the burly man to his left. “What do you think, Brett?”

Back door,
Jess yelled to Janna in her thoughts.
We make a run for it.

Janna threw her a stubborn look.

Four of them against two of us, Janna. Come on!

The rogue named Brett showed a row of crooked, stained teeth. “I think they want to learn.” The men’s banter was breezy, like a couple of Midwesterners chatting about baseball or their crops. “Need to learn.”

“Need to be taught their lesson,” a third grumbled from over by the door. A younger one, itching for a fight. Or worse than a fight, judging by the way his eyes traced Janna’s form-fitting shirt.

Janna shot him a disdainful look but started inching toward the back doorway.

“Yes,” Whyte sighed. “I think you’re right. Such a pity these nice girls have to learn the hard way.”

At his nod, the one called Brett stepped forward, moving from shadow to light and into shadow again. For an instant, Jess saw the innocent teen he might once have been. Had he been a runaway from a pack ruled by a harsh alpha? Perhaps a young wolf who’d supported a power play and ended up on the losing side, then been cast out of his home pack? Either way, he was young, bitter, and easily molded to a cause. Any cause, as long as it came with acceptance and the illusion of power.

Janna kept her tray high and backed toward Jess, who eyed the space around her. Maybe if she used a chair…

“Now, we can do this the hard way, or we can do this the easy way.”

Whyte made it sound so reasonable. But
easy
, Jess figured, was these rogues taking her and Janna off someplace to beat and murder in cold blood.