Draven
LUCKY DEVILS ISN'T one of my usual establishments.
Bryan suggested it for our meeting. He's managed to piss off quite a few of my boys, and I need to keep our dealings out of sight of the rest of the pack until I decide what his fate will be, so I grudgingly agreed to the location.
The place is a shithole, perfectly fitting for scum like Bryan. He sent word through one of Bishop's contacts that he wants to work out a deal. Of course he does, since he prefers his blood to stay in his veins.
He's lucky I'm feeling generous tonight.
I doubt he has much he can offer to pay off his substantial debt, but I'm willing to humor him, for now. If I don't like the deal, I'll let the boys hunt him down. No one gets away with losing a damn cent of our money without bleeding for it.
A dancer steps onto the stage as I walk past the bouncer. She's gorgeous, but a distraction. A quick sniff of the stale air and I head toward the tables along the back wall—Bryan's scent is obvious even in this den of soured sweat and alcohol. It's the distinct smell of fear mixed with a layer of smug arrogance.
"Draven," he greets me, sliding out of the booth and offering me his hand.
I ignore it and sit down, the fake leather of the seat creaking under me.
Bryan's confident smile falters for a moment before he waves his hand at the bar. By the time he slides back into the booth, a scantily clad waitress is at the table batting her eyelashes and asking for our drink preferences. She ignores Bryan in favor of me, smelling money like a bloodhound.
"Your best whiskey, straight up," I say, drumming my fingers on the table. "Macallan, if you have it."
Bryan orders a rum, hesitating before deciding to take it straight. I let out a quiet snort—the idiot wants to feel equal to me. That's something that will never happen.
When the woman leaves, she ignores his irritated stare and brushes against my arm with a coy look. I shoot her a warning glance and she pulls her hand away with a frown before disappearing behind the bar.
I scan the room again, my senses picking up the scents of the different patrons in the building, and my gaze locks onto the dancer on the stage again. Her eyes meet mine across the club and the world drops away. She has a stunning body and a beautiful face, but it's the way she moves that keeps me looking.
She's graceful, her body toned from dancing, confident in those five-inch heels and scraps of black fabric that are supposed to pass for a thong and bra. And there's a haunted look in her eyes that makes the wolf inside me snarl.
The hairs on my neck raise as I watch her.
She's innocent, yet damaged—the perfect prey to single out and devour.
I run my tongue across my bottom lip, already craving a taste of her. I need to know if she's as delectable as she looks.
I rip my eyes away from her and listen to Bryan talking again, some inane shit that I don't care about. Our drinks have arrived, and I watch Bryan try to play it cool while he takes a sip of the dark spiced rum. I can smell how cheap it is from across the table.
Who the fuck drinks spiced rum straight? The grimace he can't hide when the potent liquid hits his tongue confirms my suspicion that it's like drinking lit gasoline.
"Let's cut the shit, Bryan." I time it just as he swallows, giving me the satisfaction of watching him nearly choke. "You owe the Barons fifty large.
Money we loaned you for your little investments because you said they were sure bets. Now, do you have the money or am I taking the payment in blood?"
He winces as he swallows another sip of the god-awful rum and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. A second later, he squares his shoulders, trying to look confident again, like he's got everything settled.
Like he's a big man and worth my time. I'm struggling to remember why the hell I'm entertaining this meeting.
Bryan's a low-level hustler who thinks he's going places, but he's a joke. We took a small chance on him, but it's hideously clear that he's got shitty instincts when it comes to business. He'll never be anything more than a gutter rat, scrambling to pick up whatever spoiled scraps he can find.
His nose flares with nervousness as he works up the courage to make eye contact. "Actually, I'm asking for more money. Same as what you gave me before, but not as a loan this time."
I stare at him, wondering if he's trying to be funny or if he's just the dumbest motherfucker to ever cross my path. Bryan breaks out in a sweat under my steely gaze and the stench of his anxiety permeates my senses.
A snarl forms on my lips. "Tell me why I shouldn't end you right now."
"Because I have a trade—I'll give you Prudence."
I narrow my eyes at him. "What?"
"Her," he says quickly, jerking his head toward the dancer on stage, "in exchange for the new funds and my old debt being cleared."
A growl rises from my throat and he shifts nervously in his seat, his eyes going wide at the sound. "We don't deal in human trafficking."
He holds his hands up, placating me. "No, that's not what I'm suggesting. She's for you. And your guys."
I can't help the twisted amusement that curls my lips. This asshole is one delightful surprise after another. I'm going to enjoy killing him, nice and slow. "Do I look like I need to pay for goddamn strippers to warm my bed at night?"
"No, no, of course not. But…" Bryan glances at her again, then chews his lips as he looks back to me. "I know about your, uh… tastes. And her?
She'd enjoy it. She's fucked up, you see? I'm the only thing she has in this world, she's that messed up. But she needs a rough hand—craves it in fact."
My eyes slowly go back to the dancer and I finally take a sip of my drink. My nose wrinkles as the harsh burn of cheap whiskey coats my tongue. Not what I ordered. But this fucking club probably doesn't know the difference between Macallan and cat piss.
"She'll want it," he promises. "And she's good, too. Loves to take whatever you can give her. She can't even get off unless I'm hurting her.
I'm telling you, she's worth it."
I raise an eyebrow at that. This man is fucking vile. He has no honor or morals. He's trying to sell me some unfortunate soul because he thinks I like to slap women around?
I wonder if he'd be as willing to offer her if he knew how depraved I really am. Something tells me that he'd be eager to trade his own mother if it'd save his throat from being slashed.
His grin is hideous, as though he's a goddamn genius for coming up with this idea, and I want to rip it from his face. Fuck, I hate dealing with men like this. But Bishop suggested I hear Bryan out, and only an idiot ignores Bishop.
I move my gaze back to the stage, bringing the tumbler of cheap whiskey to my mouth once more. She's looking at me again as she rolls her spine, her slender body curling through the air, teasing me. It's as if she's putting on this dance just for me, as though there isn't an entire room between my table and the stage. As though there aren't people sitting between us, throwing money at her.
Her dark hair falls down around her shoulders, framing her innocent face and those haunting eyes in a way that's too damn tempting. She's teasing me, not knowing the danger she's inviting into her life.
She slides her bra off, turning her back to me, hiding the view of her bare breasts. Then she slowly saunters around the stage, drawing it out, making sure she has my attention. When she leans against the pole and slides down to the floor, her arms hugging her chest, she captures my eyes again.
With a sensual roll of her shoulders, she lifts her hands away from her breasts, letting me have a good look. Then she does a slow, sexy crawl onto all fours and tosses her hair wildly before sitting on the stage, scissoring her legs gracefully into the air, her gaze fixed on me as though no one else exists. As though I'm the only one who can see her, and fuck—I can smell her excitement at having my eyes on her, and my body instinctively responds, the front of my slacks becoming tight.
The song comes to its end, and with a few more teasing sways of her hips, she finishes her dance. I watch her collect the money she's earned, her eyes still darting to mine with every stray bill she picks up. And then, she's gone, slipping through the heavy black curtain at the rear of the stage.
With her exit goes my patience for being in this club. I turn back to Bryan. He's noticed my interest and has a smug look plastered on his face.
A surge of annoyance bristles through me, but I keep it at bay.
"She has to consent to the agreement," I tell him.
My gaze bores into him as I drive the words home, trying to resist the urge to end him right here. It would be so satisfying to feel the life drain from his body. No one would miss him. I bet not even the beautiful, damaged soul he's selling me in exchange for mercy would care if he didn't make it home tonight.
He nods eagerly. "Of course."
"And you have to bring her to the building yourself."
"Done." He holds out his hand again, eager to confirm the deal with a zealous shake.
Once again, I ignore him. I down the whiskey in one gulp and toss a fifty on the table. "Tomorrow," I tell him as I stand, ready to have his pathetic face out of my sight.
Kade will be waiting for me out front with the car. This isn't the only business I have to conduct tonight, and I need to get the fuck out of this club before I hunt her down and start the trade right now.
For once, Bryan seems to have the good sense not to say anything, and raises his rum in a salute before knocking it back with another grimace.
I retrace my steps to the entrance and pause before stepping past the bouncer. He's a big man with an imposing frame, but he's also fully human.
He eyes me as if he doesn't trust me. He's smart not to, but he can rest easy on this visit. It looks like I don't need to spill any blood here tonight. I glance back at the empty stage and pull out a crisp hundred and a twenty.
"Make sure this gets to Prudence," I tell him. "Keep the twenty for your assistance."
He takes it from me, his expression still suspicious. I stare back at him calmly, meeting his gaze for the challenge it is. I didn't make it to the top of the Baron wolf pack on kind words and good deeds—I would kick this bouncer's ass without breaking a sweat.
The primordial part of his brain seems to finally kick in as he realizes I'm not someone he wants to fuck with. He gives me a nod and pockets the twenty, stepping back to let me pass.
Kade's already got the black BMW pulled up and waiting, as expected.
I slide into the front seat, slamming the door, and he peels out of the parking lot, the red neon light of the Lucky Devils' sign flickering in the side mirror as we make our exit.
"So?" My second-in-command asks even before we're out of the parking lot.
Kade isn't patient like Bishop. Then again, Kade isn't a sociopath. Kade is fury incarnate, a berserker. He has no time for hesitation, for waiting, for calculation. He takes exactly what he wants, and the more bodies that fall on the way to his desire, the better.
I run my tongue over my sharp canines, considering how to answer. "He offered a trade, and I was inclined to accept."
The leather of the steering wheel creaks under Kade's grip, and he glances at me before looking back at the road.
"A trade worth fifty g's?" He sounds skeptical, and I don't blame him.
"Now it's double. A hundred grand."
His voice goes up two octaves and without even looking at him, I can tell Kade's eyebrows are about to shoot right off his forehead. "What the fuck could a street level hustler offer us worth that much?"
I think about the woman dancing, her body ready to be broken. To match what I sense is inside of her. But more than that, the trade will give her a chance to get away from Bryan. Before he'd even finished his desperate pitch, I'd already decided her ties to that asshole will be permanently severed, one way or the other.
Closing my eyes, I picture her in my mind, allowing myself a single moment to dwell on the vision of her dancing. The way she moved so fluidly, like a sultry ballerina, poised and graceful, even as she shed her clothes and tempted me with the curves of her slender body.
When I don't offer details on the trade, Kade takes another approach.
"You must think it's a good deal to let that scumbag keep breathing, much less give him another dime."
"Actually, I think it's a terrible deal, and I'm going to regret not ripping his throat out and being done with it," I tell Kade with a sigh. "But fuck it, I went with it in the moment. We'll be receiving a guest tomorrow evening.
Someone who will be staying with us for a while, to work off Bryan's debt."
"Okay." He simply nods, accepting the turn of events without further questions as he steers the car up the highway on-ramp.
I stare silently out the windshield at the red glow of the vehicle tail lights ahead of us, but my mind is still replaying images of her. The way she caught my eyes, begging for my attention. The challenge I saw in her gaze.
And the intoxicating scent of her pheromones, even from across the club.
I pull out my phone, needing more information. For starters, her real name. And everything else about her, even the stuff she hopes no one knows.
"You ready to deal with Sampson?" Kade asks as I finish sending a text message.
A low growl builds in my chest. Fucking Sampson and his merry band of assholes.
Fox shifters. They always think they're so damned clever, especially the Redtails of East River. They've been slowly encroaching on our territory this year, and now they've intercepted a shipment of weapons that was meant for us.
That shit's going to end tonight.
I force the thoughts of Prudence from my mind. The night is young and the fight ahead of us needs all my focus. There's a reason I'm the alpha leader of the Blackfang Barons. When blood needs to be shed, I don't depend on my grunt soldiers to take care of it. Whether by bullet or claw, I'm ready to make a point tonight in person.
Which means I can't let myself become distracted by the promise of a woman, no matter how eager I am to test her boundaries and find out exactly where her breaking point is. I wonder how pretty her face will look as I drive her to the edge, over and over. She'll earn every penny of the money owed to us, to the Barons.
My phone vibrates with a text from my guy on the police force. He was an excellent private investigator, but his true talents were being wasted. I encouraged him to get a badge and work for me on the inside. Now he's on my payroll and I get all the information I want.
His message confirms that I'll have a full background report on her tomorrow morning. Excellent.
Settled for the moment, I reach behind me to the back seat and pull the slim black case onto my lap. Flipping it open, I assess the two forty-caliber handguns lying inside and check the extra magazines. Good to go.
Then I pull out the modified shoulder holsters. Kade will be wearing a matching set. They're specially designed to stay tethered to us even if we shift. Not that we can use the pistols while in wolf form, but we damn sure don't want to chance our enemies getting their hands on them.
As I pull the holsters on, my blood simmers and heat builds in my muscles at the promise of mayhem and bloodshed.
I load a magazine into one of the pistols with a satisfying click. "Time for a fox hunt."