SHADOWS OF A WOLF MOON Book 5: RISE OF THE ARKANSAS WEREWOLVES (4 page)

Chapter Six

“I’ll give you a hundred dollars for a blow job.” The greasy, fat human waved a couple of damp twenties under her nose as if that would tempt her.

Catty grimaced as the revolting stench of body odor rolled off the bills.

“Sorry. I’m not that kind of girl.” She finished her dance move on the stage and stood, ready to get the hell out of the way in case the man couldn’t take no for an answer. He was human but could still overpower her since she was forbidden to shift.

“Stupid bitch,” the man muttered. He turned to the next stripper, who saw him waving the cash like a flag. Luckily, the man’s attention was diverted and Catty eased her way into the dressing room.

Smoke and cheap whiskey saturated the air, making her curl her nose in disgust. If hell was real, it looked and smelled like a strip club with all its aromas.

A skirmish broke out over at the bar involving two guys and a waitress. She held her breath and quickened her steps. She knew the rules. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t get involved. Don’t be visible.

Once she stepped backstage, she let out a deep breath.

“Help a girl out, Catty,” Meadow whimpered as she gave Catty her back. “Zip me, please?”

“I don’t know why you bother putting anything on.” The boobs were cut out, exposing her entire breast. Shaking her head, Catty tugged the zipper up.

“Part of the fantasy. Thanks, doll,” Meadow smiled. A cigarette rested between her yellowed teeth. Working in the club had aged her to the point she looked more like forty than the twenty-nine she claimed.

“Sure thing.” Catty made her way to an empty dressing station and sat. She kicked off her platform heels and rubbed her aching arches.

“You’re up next, Catty,” Celine called out as she passed by.

“But I just finished.”

Celine stopped in her tracks, turned, and narrowed her gaze on her. “Yeah, well, you’re up again. We’re short tonight, and the crowd is heavier than we expected.” Celine flicked her lighter and lit her cigarette. She inhaled a few puffs before tugging it out of her mouth.

“I thought I was covering the girl who couldn’t come in. We shouldn't be short.” She didn’t have time to change. Not that it mattered. Men didn’t come to the strip club to check out her outfits.

“Well, another girl called out sick with pinkeye. The last thing we need is for all the girls to catch it. Heard it’s been going around.” Celine took another long drag and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Now get your ass back out there.”

“Fine.” She stifled a smartass reply and turned back to the mirror. She studied her heavily made-up face and grabbed her lipstick. She applied another layer of the bubblegum pink to her lips.

Satisfied by her obedience, Celine turned her attention to Kimber. Kimber said she was twenty-one, but she barely looked sixteen. Catty figured her to be closer to eighteen and even that was stretching it.

Kimber teetered on her platform heels and stumbled into Aston.

“Watch it, bitch,” Aston spat out as she shoved Kimber off her.

“Sorry.” Kimber giggled and tried to regain her balance. Catty knew right away it wasn't the heels making the girl unsteady. It was drugs.

Celine grabbed Kimber by the arm and dragged her in the direction of her office. Catty knew what was coming next. Kimber was either going to be fired or put on probation.

While Celine ran a tight ship when it came to the girls, she was only the manager. If Big Mike were here, Catty felt sure Kimber wouldn’t have faced much of a consequence. She might even be encouraged to do drugs before going on stage to lower her inhibitions.

Catty shivered and turned her attention back to her mirror.

This wasn’t the life she envisioned for herself. As she stared into the haunted eyes of the girl she once knew, a tiny sliver of hope flashed through her eyes.

She knew what she had to do.

She was going to get out or she was going die trying.

***

Lucien shouldered his way through the crowd into the Triple X strip club, growling at anyone who didn’t move. Thick smoke and cheap whiskey made his stomach clench. He wondered how female werewolves could stand working in such an environment.

Every table in the club was already taken. Groups of men ranging from college age to middle age to older men sat taking their pleasure as the strippers danced for their dinner.

Lucien grimaced as his gaze drifted over the room. He didn’t have a clue what Catty looked like. Half the girls looked way too young to be taking off their clothes, and the other half looked way too old. It was hard to tell which strippers were werewolves and who was human since the stench of the place masked the scents.

The music suddenly changed to a slower beat as a new stripper stepped on stage. Long legs and a slender body with curves in all the right places almost made Lucien a little sad this girl had chosen this lifestyle when she could have had any guy she wanted. Her long blonde hair hung in waves over her shoulders, curtaining the features of her face.

Her face was hidden from view by the pole as she leaned her head back and slid down the pole. She wore denim cutoffs, which showed off her nice ass, and a red gingham bra that barely covered her nipples. With the red cowboy boots, it was clear she was the X-rated version of the farmer’s daughter.

His heart beat a little faster in his chest.

He shoved away from the bar and slid into an empty seat near the stage. There was something about the way she moved that compelled him to get closer.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away as she slipped her hand down her breasts and unhooked her bra. Her pert breasts burst free as she bared herself to the male audience.

He shifted in his seat as his dick hardened. Embarrassed and angry at the way his body was reacting, he looked away. He flagged down a passing waitress and ordered a beer, hoping the alcohol would cool his lust.

He tipped her generously when she returned quickly with an ice-cold beer. Taking a long pull on his drink, he cut his eyes to the girl on stage.

The stripper didn’t try to get to close to the customers, nor did she ignore them. She seemed to do a careful dance of knowing who to get close to and who to stay away from. She’d pay more attention to the safe older gentlemen and limit her interaction with the aggressive younger guys.

She was probably a gold digger looking for a sugar daddy to take her out of this lifestyle. Like that stripper turned Hollywood actress.

He continued to study her, and when she made her way to him, his heart sped up. He looked away, not wanting to draw her attention to himself.

She knelt down before him and arched her back, thrusting her breasts upward. She came up on her knees and hooked her thumbs on the side of her denim shorts. With a quick tug, the shorts came off, revealing a tiny red G-string. His body tightened and pulsed as unwanted lust shot through him.

He should look away. He knew he should look away. But he was helplessly trapped under her spell, unable to tear his gaze away from her.

He wanted to see her face, see if the sinful body had the face of an angel.

His hand went for his wallet. His heart pounded and he suddenly wanted to leave, escape outside where he could gain control over himself. He knew the stripper had him where she wanted, but his body was bent on a course of its own. If she had asked him for his soul, he would have signed the papers over to her that night.

Glancing down, he pulled out a couple of twenties. His fingers itched as he leaned forward, ready to hand them to her. She moved closer to the edge of the stage, and he caught a glimpse of her face.

“Thanks, sugar.” She grinned and hooked her thumb in the side of her G-string, presenting a slender hip for him to stick his bills in.

He caught her wolf scent and froze.

She gave him a sexy grin, her white teeth gleaming in the darkened room. He studied her eyes and he immediately knew. He’d seen her eyes before.

“You gonna stick it in? Don’t be shy. I won’t bite.” She leaned closer and traced her finger down his chin.

An invisible electric current sparked between them. It knocked the breath out of him, and from her widened eyes, he knew she felt it too.

Her smile slid off her face, and she eased away. He grabbed her wrist, and panic darted through her eyes.

“Let go of me.” Her chest was rising and falling fast, like that of a cornered animal. Her gaze darted around the room, looking for help to escape his grasp.

“I can’t do that, Catty Steele.” He tightened his hold so she knew he was not someone to play with.

She jerked her gaze back to him. Her face went white and her bottom lip quivered. Fear poured off her.

He’d gotten her attention. Good.

“Who are you?” Her voice cracked as she tried and failed to keep her expression neutral.

“I need to talk to you. It’s important.” He couldn’t talk with her here. Too many eyes. “Meet me at Jackson Square.”

“I can’t. I have to work all night. Besides, I don’t even know who you are.” She narrowed her gaze and tried to compose herself.

“If you care about your family, you need to meet me. Tomorrow morning. Jackson Square. Six thirty.” He leaned in right as a strong hand landed on his shoulder. “Think of your family.”

“All right, asshole. Time to go. No touching the merchandise.” One of two burly security guards pulled him by the shoulder while the other grabbed him under the arm, ready to restrain him if he didn’t comply.

He itched to tell these two humans that if he got good and pissed, neither one would be able to restrain him. But he wasn’t going to blow his cover that easily. He had only just arrived in the city and had a long way to go to uncover who was behind kidnapping the Guardians. Not to mention that he needed to find his brother.

He reined in his anger and didn’t fight them.

Sadness darted in her eyes as they led him away. Opening the door, they shoved him outside, slamming the door behind him. The repulsive scent of piss and vomit in the alley greeted him in the dark humid night. His stomach hitched.

So that was Catty. Zane’s sister. He’d recognized her when he’d seen her eyes. They were the same odd color as Zane’s.

He hadn’t expected to find her so fast. She was gorgeous, and with a body like a supermodel, she probably made a lot of money stripping. But she didn’t fit in with the rest of the girls. The other girls were flirty, didn’t mind touching the customers, and didn’t mind getting touched either.

It didn’t make sense. Catty didn’t come from a broken home, nor did she come from poverty. How the hell did she end up in a strip club? Was it drugs? A broken heart? Something more sinister?

It didn't matter why she was there. What mattered was finding out what she knew about the missing Guardians. And if he was lucky, she might have some information on where his brother was.

He wasn’t sure whether she would even show up for their meeting.

What he did know was Catty Steele was a beautiful woman with haunted eyes and a family she didn’t seem to know anymore.

The latter, he could relate to.

Chapter Seven

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Catty hurried to the dressing room.

“Did he hurt you, Catty?” Celine wrapped her bony fingers around Catty’s arm and halted her escape. The woman might be old, but she had a grip like a vise.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She forced her mouth into a semblance of a smile and tried to shrug out of Celine’s ironclad grip.

Celine narrowed her eyes into snakelike slits and released her hold. “Don’t sound fine. Don’t look fine either. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

No ghost, but she did catch a glimpse of her past.

“I’m okay. Really.” Her voice cracked, betraying her despite the heavy smile she held in place.

“You’re not on your game tonight, girl.” Celine let go of her arm and pulled out another cigarette she kept tucked behind her ear. Sticking the slender stick in her mouth, she lit up and took a long pull.

Catty squinted as the woman blew a long stream of gray smoke in her direction. She fought the urge to fan the smoke. She didn’t need to give the woman another reason not to like her.

Celine didn’t like anyone, but once you got on her bad side, she made life a living hell.

“Look at you, dark circles under your eyes and hands shaking like a leaf. I knew you needed a night off.” She took another long drag, angled her head away from Catty, and blew out a stream of smoke.

So why did you call me in?

Celine’s eyes softened, and for once she gave Catty a look of pity.

It was the closest thing to a smile she’d ever received.

“The boss can’t make money when all the pussy looks like they’ve been beat to shit.” Celine rubbed her brow with her thumb while she clasped the cigarette between two fingers.

“I need to get ready for my next dance.” Catty clenched her jaw.

Celine leaned into her personal space. “Your eyes are looking mighty red. Bet you’re getting pinkeye.” She uttered a curse. “Work until midnight. Then you’re off. You’ve got the next three days off. I need you rested and in good shape when you get back.” Celine ran her astute gaze up and down her like she was assessing a side of beef.

“Thanks.” It wasn’t an olive branch, but she’d take what she could get from the old bat.

She dodged the other strippers as she made her way back to her seat in front of the vanity table. The first time she’d sat at the little table with the mirror lined with large white bulbs, she’d pretended she was a famous model getting ready to walk down the runway.

She’d held onto the delusion until a few months in, when she kept getting her ass smacked or her boob grabbed by drunk patrons.

Reality set in the night she was approached in the parking lot and offered twenty bucks for a blow job. She was nothing more than a piece of pretty ass for men to look at.

She’d been a fool to believe she was valued.

To them, she was a means to an end. Not even a person.

And now, having someone here in New Orleans who knew her family was another issue. While Arkansas and Louisiana weren’t far apart, wolves tended to stick within the boundaries of their state. When she’d first left Arkansas for NOLA, she’d worried her family would find her. But after a while it became clear they had no interest in looking for her. It should have made her relax, but all it did was create a fissure in her heart.

Now a stranger in black leather showed up and wanted to talk to her.
And who the hell wears leather in the middle of summer in New Orleans?

If she didn’t show, he could track her down.

Unease snaked up her body as she stared at her reflection. She should have left this morning. She should have taken what little money she had, bought a bus ticket, and gotten the hell out of this cursed place. But she couldn’t. She had to have a plan and money before she made another impatient move. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake of running off somewhere with no money, no idea how to support herself, and no place to live.

Those days were over. She needed a plan before she left.

Fear tightened its fingers around her heart.

And now it might be too late.

***

Lucien stared up at the ceiling from his cheap-ass hotel bed as sweat pooled underneath his body. The rough sheets scraped against his soaking wet back with every rhythmic breath he took.

“It’s hot as balls,” he murmured and wiped his forehead with the sheet. He’d been gazing up at the ceiling since he’d gotten back from the strip club, trying to come up with a reason why Catty Steele was still on his mind.

Every fucking time he closed his eyes, he saw her. Not just her face either. Hell no. He saw everything. From the skimpy G-string to the boots and bra she’d stripped off in front of him.

The thought of her had him hard in three seconds.

The fact that a perfect stranger could do that to his body had him white-knuckling the sheets while his breath turned to a pant.

“She’s only a woman. Nothing special.” He moaned and swiped his hand across his sweaty brow. The air conditioning in the room was out, and the ceiling fan was going the speed of a turtle.

Something about Catty sent his instincts on high alert.

With Catty, he knew he needed to be wary. He needed to be watchful. He needed to be on his guard.

“Fuck it.” He threw back the sweaty sheet wrapped around his legs and sat up. The aged wooden floor on the bottom of his feet did nothing to cool his body.

What he wouldn’t give for a five-star hotel.

He stood and stalked toward the window. Opening it, he stuck his head out. A sticky slap of humidly hit him in the face like a wet rag. Even after the sun went down, there was no cooling off in the Crescent City.

The smells of asphalt and Cajun food and the occasional putrid whiff of someone losing their dinner after too many drinks hit him like a wall.

He rested his hands on the top of the windowsill and stared down into the city that did not sleep. Neon lights from bars and glow sticks around the necks of tourists lit up the street while music blared from nearby clubs, street musicians, and passing cars. It was almost three o’clock in the morning, and there was still a steady traffic of people looking for their next adventure.

He remembered a time when he’d actually enjoyed visiting New Orleans, back when he was a kid.

His family had been in Louisiana for years and was highly thought of. His father, Robert, had inherited his wealth through the family shipping business and the railroads. He was always out of town on business while his mother had stayed at home and raised their two sons. She was the Martha Stewart of werewolves. She kept a perfect house with maids and a chef. And like clockwork, every three years she would have the house completely redecorated.

When she wasn’t decorating, running a charity, or hosting parties, she was busy chasing after Lucien and his brother who were always hell-bent on doing whatever they wanted and always getting into trouble.

But that was a long time ago.

A time before his world had gone upside down and his family had been destroyed.

Now all New Orleans was to him was a reminder of pain and devastating loss.

He rolled his shoulders to alleviate the tightening in his flesh that started at his shoulder blades and traveled down to his waist.

He growled, pushed off the window, and headed for the bathroom. He’d shower and get ready to meet with Catty, if she didn’t bail.

As he crossed the room, his reflection caught his eye.

He stopped and turned on the lamp. The light illuminated the room in an eerie play of dark shadows and shapes. He turned his back to the mirror.

He narrowed his eyes as he gazed upon the scarred flesh that had been burned so many years ago by one of his own blood. His deformity had caused him such great pain and loss.
The mottled skin seemed to tighten as he took in the length of his scarred back.

The pain of being burned had faded, but the hatred against his brother still burned bright.

No one had ever seen him naked. Not even the other Guardians. He would wait to work out until the gym on the base was empty, and even then he’d dress in a long-sleeved tee.

His secret had almost been discovered by Jaxon.

Jaxon had stumbled in one time after working a forty-eight-hour shift and discovered him lifting weights.

Lucien had soaked his shirt when Jaxon had slapped him on the back. The asshole had apparently been too damn exhausted to notice the unevenness of his flesh. After cracking a few jokes, Jaxon had headed back to his room.

It was something Lucien kept to himself. He couldn’t trust his secret with the other Guardians. He’d be an outcast. He’d experienced it with his own family.

He wasn’t about to experience it with his Pack.

He’d learned the only person he could trust was himself.