Disgraced Cowboys (Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 3) [Siren Publishing Ménage Amour] (5 page)

“Oh, Jesus,” she whispered, shaking harder.

Marcus must have felt her shiver, because he looked down at the skimpy bikini the other men—and a wolf—were all openly staring at and swore under his breath. He let go of her and began unbuttoning his shirt. Her eyes opened wide in question when he tugged it off to reveal a mouth-watering chest. He settled his shirt, which was toasty with his body heat, around her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she managed, holding the fabric closed in front of her. She was used to men staring at her, of course—that’s what she got paid for. Still, these eyes were too damn unsettling.

“You okay?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not even a little okay. What just happened?”

“Isn’t it obvious, darlin’?” His eyes were glowing brighter now than the moon overhead. “We’re werewolves.”

She would have laughed, if not for the animal three feet away. “Werewolves. As in ‘of London’.”

He made a face. “More like shape-shifters than shaggy men with bad teeth, but you get the idea.”

“‘We’ are?” She glanced around at their searing and oh-so-similar stares. “So that’s how you’re related. How do you even exist?”

“I hate to interrupt this touchin’ moment,” the short man said, “but we need to get the fuck up on out of here before Kade shows. But I have my concerns about leavin’ the filly here with our secret.”

“I told you, she’s
with
me,” Marcus shot back, and something about the way he said “with” shifted some glances back and forth. No doubt he was giving them all the wrong impression about their relationship. Still, she could give a shit what he claimed was between them, if that meant the wolf-things would leave her alone.

Meanwhile, Seth’s eyes were everywhere on her, and she kept tossing nervous glances at him. She had to admit he was damn handsome, though in a different way than Marcus. Why the gorgeous ones were always gay was beyond her understanding. Then again, the way he and Marcus looked at her was anything but platonic. Her head was beginning to hurt just trying to make sense of everything.

Without another word, the squat cowboy tugged off boots and shirt. She knew what was coming, tensed for it, but still gasped when his body began to ripple and contort. His wolf was a darker brown than Caleb’s, and not surprisingly, more compact. After one final look at her and each other, the two wolves picked up their cowboy hats with their teeth and sprinted away, disappearing into the line of trees along the edge of the alley.

That left her alone with Marcus and Seth, one of whom was rubbing a large hand along her arm while the other devoured every inch of her with a hungry yet oddly conflicted look. A man with that much restrained lust would be worth a hundred bucks inside the club, easy. Yet the glimmer of yellow in his eyes whispered to her that he wasn’t a
man
, not in the strictest sense. She was in the presence of supernatural beings. Creatures of night. And maybe he wasn’t lusting after her. Maybe he just hadn’t eaten yet.

She shuddered again, and Marcus pulled her tighter against him. “We need to get her out of this night air,” he said.

“What about Kade?” Seth asked.

“Who’s this Kade?” Brandi asked. “Is he one of you?”

Marcus pulled away and gazed down at her, his tone and expression all business. “No time to explain right now. The question is, was I right to vouch for you with the others? Can we trust you with our secret?”

“You’re leaving, too.”

Seth stepped closer. “We have to.” Reluctance was clear in his throaty, seductive voice.

She looked Seth over brazenly. His shoulders were broad and squared off beneath the tight, black T-shirt he wore tucked neatly into his dark denims. At least, it had been neatly tucked in before he’d been involved in a bar fight. Now, it had been hastily shoved back into place. She found herself drawn to his shoulders and the narrow taper of his waist, idly wondering if he’d look as fine as Marcus with his shirt peeled off.

Seth’s head whipped around toward the woods, and his admirable shoulders tensed noticeably. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

Brandi frowned. “What?”

Marcus nodded and turned to face her, taking her by the shoulders. “Go back inside,” he said with a no-argument tone.

“What is it?”

“Please. You won’t want to be out here alone when Kade shows up.” Her eyes flew wide. “Don’t worry. He’s lookin’ for us, not you. You’ll be safe inside.” He bent down and inhaled her briefly. “But you’ll want to ditch my shirt and wash my scent off you when you get in there. And Brandi?”

She blinked. “Yes?”

“Don’t forget our deal.”

“About keeping your secret?”

His look hardened. “About that deposit I gave you.”

She stood silent while the last two cowboys stripped down enough to allow the shift, and she found out firsthand that Seth looked even hotter without his shirt than she’d dreamed. Questions fired off in her head, though she couldn’t manage to voice any of them. Where were they going? Why were they afraid of Kade? Would she see them again?

The last one echoed loudest in her mind, though part of her wondered why. They were just customers in the club, and getting involved with customers was, in her opinion, one of the stupidest things a stripper could do. Yet she
was
involved, up to her armpits. All because she’d been too damn nosy for her own good.

As hurried as the situation seemed, she was surprised when the men paused to stare at one another. The attraction rippled between them again, and she felt her stomach tighten.

“So,” Seth said to Marcus. “Your den or mine?”

Marcus scowled at him. “You know it can’t be neither.”

Without another word, he shifted, and she took an unconscious step back from him. His fur was gleaming white in the moonlight, and a slight breeze ruffled the scruff around his neck. The wolf was terrifying, powerful and yet beautiful all at once. He commanded respect, for sure. Yet she had the odd urge to run her hands through that fur and hug the wolf around the neck.

Seth stood staring at him the same way Brandi was. After heaving a sigh, he gave her a nod. “Evenin’, ma’am,” he said, and then he began to quiver.

His shift took longer than Marcus’s had, and the reshaping of limbs and elongating jaw marred his good looks in an alarming, frightening fashion. When the man Seth dropped away, the wolf in his place was pitch black with a white diamond on his chest. The wolves regarded each other for a moment, and then looked at her with those alien, yellow eyes. Marcus gave a tiny growl and tossed his head in the direction of the back door, clearly telling her to get out of the alley. She nodded understanding and clutched his shirt tighter around herself. Now that his warmth was no longer enveloping her, the cold night air blasted her flesh.

She watched as the two wolves picked up their cowboy hats in their teeth, just as the others had. They took off at a dead run in opposite directions, and she listened to their footfalls through the woods until they faded. She was left with nothing but a confused jumble of thoughts and assortment of men’s clothing and boots strewn on the ground.

“They leave all their clothes behind,” she said to no one, “but take their hats. Far be it from a cowboy to abandon a good Stetson.”

She started to bend over to gather up the clothing and take it inside but then frowned and scanned the woods. Marcus told her to “ditch” his shirt, not hang onto it. And to wash his scent off. Kade would smell these clothes and know the wolves had been here. She shouldn’t take them inside.

Her heart picked up pace as she grabbed the clothes and pitched them in the Dumpster. No good. Kade could still find them there. She glanced around wildly, wondering if she was about to be pounced on by what she presumed was a bigger, meaner wolf, and her gaze landed on the small, red cylinder on the ground.

With a tight smile, she snatched up the lighter and flicked it. She found out why it had been abandoned—it was pretty much empty. It took several tries to get a faint flame, and once she managed, she grabbed a crumpled paper from the Dumpster and lit it. It caught easily, and she dropped it on the pile of clothes. It took too long, so she added more shreds of paper. When the garments finally flared up, she shrugged out of Marcus’s shirt a little regretfully and added it to the smoldering lot.

“There,” she said. “No more evidence.”

Leaving the Dumpster in flames, she raced back into the club. The melee had subsided while she’d been outside discovering that werewolves existed. Most of the patrons had gone, except for the two cowboys who had helped Paulo take cover. They were currently helping upright tables and chairs. The male bar back had a broom and was sweeping broken glass while Paulo waved his arms animatedly at the nodding sheriff, her boss stopping every now and then to bark out orders. No one noticed Brandi slip inside, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she quickly slid away from the door toward the back room.

She should say something about the fire. The Dumpster was set away from the building, but maybe not far enough. How big were the flames now? It would raise questions about how what she was doing out there in the first place, but hell, she couldn’t risk the club catching fire.

While she tried to think fast to come up with a cover story, her heels crunched through broken glass until she stepped on something squishy. She glanced down at a familiar tan lump on the floor and stopped short. Marcus’s duster lay in a rumpled pile, right where he must have dropped it during the scuffle.

She bent over and picked it up. As she straightened, one of Paulo’s heroes met her glance, and she jerked upright. Golden highlights ringed his eyes, too. The guys outside had spoken of seeing someone else. Not all of Marcus’s fellow shifters had left the building.

He tipped his hat to her with a coy smile, his glance flicking briefly to the coat she was clutching. Her eyes followed. If she was smart, she should toss the coat in the Dumpster with the rest of the burning evidence.

That gave her an idea.

Quickly snatching up a small handful of scattered drink coasters and napkins, she headed back outside while he watched. “I was helping pick up trash when I saw the fire,” she whispered to herself as she headed out.

The flames roared higher, and thick smoke turned the pure mountain air acrid and pungent. She pulled Marcus’s coat to her nose without thinking to block the smoke, and the smell of spicy outdoors and pure male assailed her senses. She inhaled his scent deeply while the flames danced higher.

“Be a shame to burn this,” she said to nobody. “It’s such a nice coat.”

She draped it over her arm and rushed back inside. “Hey!” she cried out, waving the handful of trash she’d picked up. “There’s a fire outside in the Dumpster!”

Brandi was sitting in her motel room, flicking through TV stations without really seeing what was on, when the knock came.

She sat up on the bed, frowning at the door. Who could it be? No one knew or cared that she was here. Except the manager, but she’d paid her bill in advance for another week. Maybe the greaseball desk clerk wanted to hit on her again.

Tightening the towel wrapped around her torso, she slid off the bed and padded to the door. One glance through the peephole at the Stetson and broad, male back of the man turned away from her started a rapid-fire pulse in her veins.

“Marcus,” she whispered. How the devil had he found her? What did he want?

Her eyes flicked guiltily to the tan fabric flopped over the back of a chair at her small “dining” table. That must be it. He’d come to retrieve what was probably an expensive duster. She wondered what he’d say about her burning the rest.

She pulled open the door just enough to stick her head through the opening while keeping the rest of her towel-clad body hidden. “Just so you know, your deal expired yesterday. This just so happens to be my regular night off.”

He was already turning around, and her smartass grin evaporated when she met the eerie, golden-tinged gaze of a stranger.

“Expectin’ someone else?” the man asked.

She stiffened. “Can I help you?”

The man who was definitely not Marcus cracked a smile that slid up only half of his chiseled face. He was tall, handsome, and a cowboy, which accounted for her mistake. The telltale glint in his eyes gave her a pretty fair guess as to who was standing at her door, though. It had to be Kade, the one other werewolves feared.

“Why yes, ma’am, I expect you can help. May I come in?”

The tone dripped with courtesy, but she wasn’t fooled.

“Hell, no, you can’t come in.” She pulled the door tighter closed to make that clear. “What do you want? State your business or I’ll scream.”

With that, the man unfolded his arms and gave the door a vicious shove so fast that Brandi barely realized he’d moved. Before she knew it, she had staggered backward from the forcible entry, and he was inside. He shut the door behind him and scanned the room quickly.

She opened her mouth to deliver the promised scream, but an enormous hand clamped over it and muffled the sound to a dull squeak. The stranger pulled her against him. “Now, screamin’ wouldn’t be at all neighborly,” he said gruffly. “I’m not a criminal.”