Red (2 page)

Steve whistled and one of the wolves perked up, looking through the crowd. Steve caught his eye and gave him a silent signal.
Guard. Protect.
Instantly, the stance of the young wolves went from merely protective of the women, which they’d been already, to on guard.
Good dogs
, Steve thought with a fleeting moment of humor as yet another human tried to block his path.

One of the wolves made as if to come help him, but Steve signaled him back.
Protect the women
, he sent via the hand signals everyone in the Redstone Clan knew. This group of wolves was part of one of the construction crews and they were mostly reputable. A little rough around the edges maybe, but good men all. Steve was sort of relieved to have them here now that the situation had taken an unexpected turn.

Steve paused momentarily to parry a few punches aimed his way but he didn’t let the concerted attacks slow him down. He kept his eyes on the prize, making his way one opponent at a time, toward Trisha Morrow.

The club was great, but when the fight broke out on the other side of the packed dance floor, Trisha sobered enough to realize they probably should leave. Only there were a bunch of handsome men—big bruisers, most of them—flirting with the girls and none of her friends seemed sober enough to realize there might be danger if the fight kept escalating in their direction.

Trisha looked around and her gaze was caught by one man. A big, muscular man. He was as big as her brother, Deke, and just as good in a fight. He was walking toward her but kept getting waylaid by idiots who wanted to fight. Why they tried to hit
him
, she’d never know. Even she could see he wasn’t interested in the melee. He was just trying to get from one side of the club to the other, and he didn’t really seem to care who he had to mow down to do it.

There was something so elemental about the way he moved. Like a panther on the prowl. He vanquished one opponent after another—sometimes more than one at a time—sweeping them out of his way as if they were nothing. He sent a few guys sailing through the air. Some went down hard on the grimy floor. A few turned away when he growled at them.

He actually
growled
. She could hear the low rumble of it, even across the distance that still separated them. Why in the world did she find that sexy?

“Guys?” Trisha tried to get the attention of her drunk friends while her gaze remained on the warrior.

That’s the only word she could think of to describe him. He had to be like Deke and most of the guys in her family. Military. Spec Ops. If not, then some kind of mercenary or professional killer.

That last thought almost made her giggle with nerves as their eyes met. And held.

Even as he threw two more would-be fighters aside, he kept his gaze on her. When he had to look away to throw a punch or block a barstool being thrown at him, it was only momentary. As soon as he’d dealt with the obstacle, he looked straight back at her again.

It was about that time she realized he wasn’t just moving across the room. He was actually aiming for her table. For
her
.

Her foggy mind didn’t understand the animal attraction that reared up and made her want to purr when she realized that hunk of dangerous manhood was making a beeline to her side. The rest of the raucous room faded to nothing as she watched his muscles bunch and flex as he dealt with one miscreant after another.
Yowza.
He was hot.

Hot and dangerous. The ultimate bad boy.
Mrawr
.

“The fighting is getting worse,” she heard one of the men who’d come to chat with her friends say to the other over her head.

One part of her fuzzy mind wondered at their calm. The men had come to flirt and her girlfriends had happily obliged, but when the fighting started, the men had stayed with them, taking up what looked like guarding positions, now that she thought about it. She’d seen it often enough with the guys in her family in the past. It didn’t take much to bring out the legendary Morrow protective streak. She’d dealt with it all her life.

Sometimes annoying, it was often nice to have a bunch of big, strong guys to watch your back and catch you if you fell. She’d relied on her dad and brothers for a lot of years to do just that. Though, to be honest, she hadn’t needed rescuing in a long, long time.

“Steve said to stay here,” the other man answered, still over her head as she watched the warrior get closer.

“Yeah, all right. But not for much longer. If he doesn’t haul ass, we’re going to have to start knocking some heads together. It’d be easier to just take the women outside, where it’s safe,” the first one said.

“You notice something funny about the fight? They’re going after Steve,” the second one observed. “It’s subtle, but it’s there. Could be, the ones who started the brawl
want
us to go outside. There’s only four of us.”

“Not for long,” the first one replied. “I just called in the cavalry.” Trisha heard a phone beep on her right side. The first guy had called someone and she could only hope he was on the right side of all this mayhem. Based on what she’d overheard, he probably was.

For whatever reason, a guy named Steve had told these guys to stay and watch over the girls. That didn’t make much sense. She didn’t remember any of the men being introduced as Steve. Had this Steve instigated the fight? It didn’t sound that way, but the question remained… Who was Steve? And why would he tell these men—perfect strangers—to protect her small group of friends?

Unless…

Oh, no. He wouldn’t have.

But she knew he would. Dammit. She could smell her brother’s interference in this. He had friends all over the place, and she’d just bet one of his old Army buddies lived in Las Vegas. It didn’t take much to imagine Deke calling ahead once she’d told him where the bachelorette party was being held.

Well. She could either get mad or be grateful that her big brother cared enough to get someone to keep an eye on them. In the normal course of business, she would have been pissed. But she was drunk and the fight was getting seriously out of control. Even she had to admit, she and her friends probably needed a knight in shining armor right now. Maybe a few of them.

Still, she knew she’d be mad at Deke later, when everything was sane again. When there were no flying beer bottles or bar stools, and no big men trying to beat the crap out of each other ten feet from where she stood.

“You guys know my brother?” she asked of the men at her side, proud when her words slurred only a little. She really shouldn’t have had that row of test tube shots. She didn’t even know what had been in them. But they were yummy.

“Sorry, doll. We don’t know your brother,” the guy on her left answered in a somewhat condescending tone.

“I don’t like you,” she blurted out, unable to filter her words in her drunken state. “Sorry,” she apologized belatedly, but she heard laughter from both of the guys that flanked her.

“It’s okay. He gets that reaction a lot,” the guy on the right guffawed at his buddy’s expense.

“So who’s Steve?” She really wasn’t very subtle when she was drunk.

“Heard that, did you? You mean you don’t know him already?” The guy on the left seemed recovered from her insult and a little more respectful this time when he spoke to her.

“No. Should I?” She almost looked at them, but the man who’d been casually fighting his way to her was almost upon them. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He was even more good looking the closer he got.

“Yeah, judging by the way he just cleared a path to you, I kinda figured you two were already acquainted.” The guy on the left turned as the fighting drew nearer. He was watching the crowd, but she only had eyes for the guy who stopped right in front of her.

“You’re Steve,” she stated. Darnit, she was drunk. She was just blurting out whatever came into her mind, no matter how inane.

The gorgeous warrior cocked his head to the side, clearly puzzled. “I am. And you’re Trisha, right?”

She nodded, making herself dizzy in the process. “How do you know my name? We weren’t introduced. I’d remember.”

He had the greatest smile. She was glad she was still leaning against the barstool because her knees were in serious danger of melting when he flashed that crooked smile at her. His eyes actually twinkled. And glowed.

Wait a minute. Glowed?

She must be even drunker than she thought. That round of test tubes was starting to roil in her stomach and slide right into her bloodstream. Things were getting blurrier, not better. What was
in
those things?

Damn.
Steve smelled drugs. The chemical-metallic tang of something bad came off her in waves—and not much else. The chemical scent was so strong it was overpowering her normal female scent.

“Trisha, do you feel all right?” Steve hated this. She might’ve taken the drugs or she might’ve been slipped something. Right now, he didn’t know which, and the fight was getting too damn close for comfort.

“No,” she admitted in a wobbly voice as she leaned heavily on the bar stool.

Steve paused to push two of the fighters behind him farther back. So far, the small group of wolves had been keeping the fighting at bay around the drunk women, but he didn’t know how much longer they could keep the status quo. Things seemed to be escalating instead of dying down.

And that didn’t seem right either. Something strange was definitely in the air tonight.

“Steady now,” he said in as soft a tone as he could manage over the loud noise of the fight. “Do you normally use drugs? Weed, crack, heroin?” He tried to be matter-of-fact about it, but he hated asking these questions.

“Piss off,” she cussed him, making him want to smile. “I’m not a druggie. I’m just drunk.”

“Do you
feel
just drunk, as you put it?” he challenged. He liked her spirit. She was feisty for a human.

She paused for a moment and her tongue peeped out to run over her lips. The sight of that little wet, pink muscle made his dick rise.
Shit
.

“Now that you mention it…” She paused to try to bring her hand to her face and missed. She was definitely not all right. Her coordination was shot. “Those test tube thingies must’ve been stronger than I thought,” she finished lamely. “I’m higher than a kite.” She smiled, then frowned. “I don’t like it.”

She made him want to laugh again, which surprised the hell out of him. She was kind of cute and very frank when she was out of it. It was an absurdly charming combination.

“I just got a text. The rest of the Pack is waiting for us outside,” Jed Robinson reported from Trisha’s right. He was the most senior of the wolves that had been flirting with Trisha and her friends. “There was some trouble out there, but they’ve neutralized it.”

He understood what the wolf was trying to say. There’d been an ambush waiting for the women. But why? Steve didn’t like this at all, and he didn’t understand what it was about this group of women that had attracted all this attention, but he would. Before this night was over, he’d learn why they were such a target.

“All right, let’s get out of here. The fight is more than the bouncers can handle and the cops will probably be here any moment. Unless you want to spend the rest of the night in jail, you should probably come with us, Trisha.”

She looked at him again, giving him a good once over.

“You’ve got to be my brother’s friend,” she surprised him by stating. “If anyone here was his go-to guy, it would be someone like you. You’ve got the look. Okay.” She paused, seeming to need to gather her wits. “I’ll go with you. If you can convince me that you served with him.”

How she knew her brother had called for backup in Vegas, he didn’t have to guess. Deke was pretty protective of his family, but Steve respected that about the man. Now he just had to prove to his cautious sister that he was the inside man.

“Deke and I served in Afghanistan together.” A few other places too, but those were classified. “My name is Steve Redstone.”

“Shit,” she cursed under her breath, but he heard it. “You’re Red.”

“At your service,” he replied, knowing they really didn’t have time to dally. The fight was really out of control and moving ever closer, though the wolves frowning presence kept most of it at bay. “Now can we get out of here?”

“Sure thing.” She tried to stand but her legs clearly wouldn’t support her. Still, she gave it her best shot until she managed to stand, leaning heavily on the small table.

She put one hand to her lips and issued an ear-splitting whistle. Her friends—most of whom were as drunk as she was, or worse—immediately looked at her. Well, that was one way to get the ladies’ attention.

“This is my brother’s friend Red,” she shouted to her friends. “We’re getting out of here.”

Slow nods and a few worried looks answered her pronouncement, but the women did start moving. Purses were gathered. Short, tight skirts were pulled downward as they hopped off bar stools. Flirtatious hands sought the werewolves’ arms for support, but all the women managed to stand, though several of them swayed alarmingly.