Fighting for Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 3) (3 page)

It took her eyes a minute to adjust, just like usual. The door led to wooden stairs, and she stood at the top for a moment, trying to see in the dark, before descending them carefully, one hand on the railing.
 

At the bottom was an absolutely massive man, bald with a beard, and he stood from his chair when she approached.

“Hi, Tobias,” she said. She handed him her bag, which he put into a cubby behind him, and then raised her arms from her sides.

“Back again?” he rumbled, carefully patting her down.

“Yeah,” she said, half dejected and half excited.

“Be careful,” he said. “It’s a regular wolves’ den in here.”

His remark caught her off-guard. Grey had grown up in Reno, Nevada, not Cascadia, and she had trouble telling who was a shifter and who wasn’t. She was
pretty
sure that Tobias, who was massive and at least six and a half feet tall, was a grizzly shifter. Along the same lines, she had a strong suspicion that most of the men and women at the poker game were wolves, but she didn’t really know how to tell for certain.

A certain snarl in their voices? That lupine look? It was impossible, sometimes.

“Thanks,” she said to Tobias, a little uncertainly.

The poker room wasn’t fancy. It was an old, barely-finished basement, and it smelled like stale beer, old whiskey, and cigarettes smoked twenty years before.

There was a single table in the middle of the room with three people around it, whiskey in tumblers on the table, cards in front of them. Just seeing it sent a spike of anticipation through Grey’s body, the thrill of gambling making her giddy already.

Around the periphery of the room were boxes of liquor, piled high, along with old beer signs, posters advertising vodka, and other junk.

Besides the poker players, there were always a few other people hanging around. One was an older man with close-cropped gray hair and steely eyes. He spent most of his time either keeping some sort of records in a book, quietly watching the poker game, or talking to other men who came and went. Any conversations were always nearly silent.

Grey always tried not to look at the man in the corner too much. Something about him made her uneasy, and that was hard to do — after all, she hadn’t seen anything wrong with taking a back alley that led her to a dead body. But even though she knew she was at a fairly high stakes poker game, high enough stakes that the room had a body guard,
that
guy was the thing that made her nervous.

Right now, he was deep in conversation with another guy, someone with chin-length wavy brown hair. Grey could tell that things were getting heated, but she could only see the older man’s face, not whoever he was talking to.

Behind him was a door that she’d never seen open, though she was nearly certain that sometimes she could hear strange noises coming from behind it that no one else in the room seemed to notice. Grey tried not to think about it, which usually wasn’t hard. Once she started playing, the warm hum of anticipation and adrenaline sang through her.

At the center of the table was a big guy with thinning red hair pulled back in a ponytail and a red goatee, watching Grey enter the room.

“Deal you in next round, Princess?” he asked.

Grey
hated
that he called her Princess, but she knew it might be useful. After all, no one else was likely to thing that a sweet young thing named Princess was much of a threat, right?

She thrived on the other players underestimating her. It was how she’d won three hundred bucks the night before.

“Yes, please,” she said, as politely as she could.

After all, princesses were polite.

At the sound of her voice, one of the guys playing poker turned around. She didn’t know his name, she just knew that the other players always called him Shovel, and she wasn’t really sure why.

“You got some nerve,” Shovel growled at her.

Grey froze.

Everyone turned to look at Shovel, then at her: the other players, the dealer who’d called her princess, the somber older man in the corner.

The guy the older man was talking to, the one with the wavy brown hair. For an instant, they made eye contact, and Grey felt a shiver move down her spine.

Not the time for cute boys!
she reminded herself.

“What are you talking about?” she asked Shovel. Somehow, she managed to stay polite, keep her voice calm.

“You nearly got us busted wide open,” he said, turning in his chair.

Grey could see the empty whiskey glass in front of him. Half of her was scared, but half was excited — Shovel could be an unpleasant drunk, but when he was drunk, he was also a
terrible
poker player.

“I didn’t do anything,” she said.

Shovel stood, his metal folding chair scraping along the concrete floor, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.

“Walking through the alley after a game like that,” he said. “Now the cops are sniffing around everywhere, asking ‘what’s a nice young lady like her doing in a dark alley at night?’”

Grey swallowed, her spine stiffening.

If you were smart, you’d leave right now
, she thought.

I guess I’m not smart, then, because this guy’s an asshole and I’m staying right here
.

“I didn’t tell them a thing,” she said defiantly. “I’m not an idiot, I didn’t tell the cops I was walking home from an illegal gambling den.”

“Yeah?” said Shovel. “How do I know you’re not wearing a wire right now?”

Grey forced herself not to roll her eyes.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “They’re not the FBI, they’re—”

“Show me,” Shovel said.

Grey felt like her stomach dropped out of her body, and her furious reply died on her lips.

“Show you what?” she asked, after a long moment.

“Lift up your shirt and show me you’re not wearing a wire,” he said, leering at her.

Grey felt her face turn bright red, and she backed up a step, toward Tobias and the staircase.

“No,” she said.

Shovel advanced a step, then another one, his leer growing vicious.

“I think you better,” he said.

“Hey!” shouted the wavy-haired guy from the back, and everyone turned toward him. Shovel glared.

“She says she’s not wearing a wire, she’s not wearing a wire,” the guy said, advancing across the room. “How about you leave her alone?”

Grey swallowed, her mouth falling slightly open. The guy with the wavy hair was
hot,
with slate-blue eyes, wide cheekbones, a day or two of stubble, and a nose that was just a little crooked. He had the look of someone who
really
knew his way around a bareknuckle fight.

Shovel snorted. “And you’re gonna make me, pretty boy?” he asked. “You looking to get that nose broken again?”

Grey took another step back, hoping that maybe she could escape before something serious happened. The guy with the wavy hair was big and tall, six feet at least, and he had the body of a fighter, of someone accustomed to
using
his muscles. It was great that he was coming to her defense against Shovel, but if he turned on her, there wouldn’t be much she could do.

“You need to leave,” the fighter told Shovel. His voice was very, very quiet, and for a moment, Grey could see Shovel’s eyes widen. “If you threaten her again, if you
look
at her or if you
touch
her, I’ll show you how much it hurts to get your nose broken.”

Shovel snorted.

“The fuck do you think you are?” he said, his jaw flexing and working. “You come back to the ring and think that gives you the right to tell us all what our business is?”

“If your business is harassing innocent women, then yeah, it does,” the fighter said. “Now, are you leaving, or what?”

Grey took another step back toward Tobias and the exit. She could feel her hands shaking, watching the two men argue.

Sure, he came to my rescue,
she thought.
But he wins, and then what? He turns on me next?

Uncertainty flickered in Shovel’s eyes. The other guy towered over him, and Shovel was older, fatter, and drunker.

At last, Shovel snorted, and jabbed a finger into the other guy’s chest.

“Fuck you, Isaac,” he said. “This isn’t over.”

Then he tossed back the rest of his whiskey, grabbed his few chips from the table, and stormed off through the basement’s back door. For a moment, a cool breeze swept in as Shovel left through the locked exit that led to the alleyway. The door swung shut behind him, re-locking itself.

The basement was quiet again, and everyone turned to look at the guy who’d threatened Shovel.

Everyone except Grey. In a flash, she grabbed her jacket and purse from the lockers behind Tobias, and ran up the stairs, back to the well-lit liquor store. She didn’t have a plan — after all, Shovel had just left and could still be outside — but she wanted to be anywhere but the basement.

As she neared the door at the top of the steps, she heard his voice.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Wait!”

Grey didn’t wait. She pushed the door open, letting the ugly fluorescent lights wash over her. They felt like relief, and she sought out the security cameras at the corners of the store. She hoped they were recording.

The clerk looked up from the movie he was watching on his phone.

“Everything cool?” he asked, sounding bored.

Grey just nodded, then swallowed.

“Yup,” she said, a little breathless. “Totally cool.”

He nodded and went back to his movie.

Grey stepped into an aisle full of flavored vodkas, trying to collect herself. She slid her jacket on, finally breathing a little easier, then put her purse on her shoulder.

Standing in front of a shelf full of clear bottles, she took a moment to collect herself.

You’re fine
, she thought.
This is for the best. If you’re afraid to go back to the game, maybe you can finally stop.

She knew, deep down, that it wasn’t true.

For a couple of moments, her eyes scanned the bottles. Even though she’d been
through
this liquor store a lot lately, she never really went
to
the liquor store, and she was kind of surprised at the sheer selection.

What’s an acai berry?
she wondered.
Is it good? Does it make vodka taste good?

She heard the thumping up the stairs too late, and had just turned toward the door when the St. Pauli girl swung toward her.

It was the fighter. Grey swallowed, trying to stand up straight, jutting her chin out.

He stopped and the door swung shut behind him. For a moment, he and Grey just watched each other.

“Hey, man,” said the clerk.

The fighter slid his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket and nodded at the clerk.

“Hey,” he said.

Then he looked at Grey.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, her own hands in her pockets, balled into fists. “I’m fine.”

“You ran out of there like a frightened rabbit,” he said.

“Well, a guy named Shovel wanted me to take my shirt off,” she said, feeling a little defensive.

The guy laughed.

“I didn’t mean any offense,” he said. “Shovel’s an asshole, but you want to know a secret about him?”

Grey felt herself relax a little. Maybe this guy wasn’t just going to make a play for her as well.
 

Maybe he had
actually
just wanted Shovel to quit harassing her.

“Sure,” she said.

“His name’s really Norbert,” he said. “Next time he’s a dick to you, just remember: Norbert.”

Grey couldn’t help but smile up at the guy.

“Norbert,” she said. “I’d go by Shovel too.”

“I’m Isaac, by the way,” the guy said. At last, he let a smile spread across his face, crinkling the skin near his eyes just a little.
 

Grey felt herself blush.

“Grey,” she said, taking his hand. It was hard and strong, the palm covered with callouses and the back covered in scars. He shook her hand, squeezing it just hard enough, and a warm tingle moved through her body until she had to look away.

Don’t even think about it,
she told herself.
Don’t think about his cute smile, or how you can see his muscles through his t-shirt, or how you could totally bury your hands in his hair and definitely do not think about how he was just willing to kick someone’s ass for you.

“You new in town?” Isaac asked. He put his hands back in his pockets, standing casually in the middle of the vodka aisle.

“I moved here a couple of months ago, right before the school year started,” Grey said. “I teach kindergarten.”

Isaac chuckled.

“Kindergarten by day and illicit poker games by night,” he said, shaking his head. “You teach the kids to count cards?”

Grey smiled and blushed again.

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t be here,” she said. “I have a feeling the PTA wouldn’t be too happy if they found out.”

“That a woman of questionable morals was teaching their kids? Yeah, probably,” he said, still grinning.

“Hey,” Grey said. “My morals are just fine.” She paused, then had to smile. “You know, except for the part where I go to seedy back rooms and get threatened by men named Shovel.”

“Well, my lips are zipped,” said Isaac. “Can I give you a ride home or anything?”

Grey shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No thanks, I’ve got my car here,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

Isaac nodded.

“Thanks for the offer, though,” Grey said.

I should have taken him up on it,
she thought.
I bet he’s got a motorcycle or something, and on the way home I’d get to hang onto him, his back between my knees...

Her face was on fire.

“No problem,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

He raised one eyebrow.

“If not here, then somewhere,” Grey said. “It’s a small town.”

“True,” Isaac said.

Then he nodded and went back through the door with the St. Pauli girl on the front.

At the checkout counter, the clerk was still watching a movie as Grey left through the front door, the bell ringing in her wake, and got into her car.