Page 26

Twenty-Six

It felt good to work again, even if Robin did always feel out of place at Club Sutro.

Jeans, flannel, and hair that hadn’t seen a proper cut in years didn’t exactly fit the mold of Yerba Buena’s most exclusive club.

This was more Icarus’s scene, alluring courtesans winding through the crowd of wealthy patrons.

It had been Paris’s too, before he’d settled down, heirs like him nursing high-end booze from crystal glassware that somehow survived the thumping music.

And before Paris was even old enough to frequent clubs, Sutro had been Deb’s scene, a place for her to let off steam and dance with her husbands after dealing with pack business and work trips.

“You want another beer?”

Kai’s question knocked Robin out of the past and back to the present. He glanced over his shoulder at Paris’s other best friend, Jason’s raven partner, who was working the bar tonight. Robin traded his empty for the fresh bottle Kai offered. “Thanks.”

The raven disappeared to the opposite end of the bar, waiting on another customer, and Robin turned his attention back to the packed club.

One would never guess that two months ago a giant had come crashing through the ceiling, the furniture and walls had been riddled with bullet holes, and a certain blond warlock had stood atop the backbar and fired a crossbow bolt into another giant.

Tonight, Robin was hunting a different blond: Glen Brewster, a six-foot-two bear shifter who led a loosely affiliated group of his kind that inhabited the coastal woods north of YB.

And Robin wasn’t the only one on the hunt for Mr. Brewster.

In one of the large booths by the windows, a feline shifter of some sort was trying and failing to fit in with the other patrons in his booth who were drinking and laughing merrily.

And on the dance floor, a pair of humans were getting all kinds of attention as they put on an amorous couple looking for a third routine, inviting others to dance with them.

A clever trap for Glen, if he ever showed.

Robin was beginning to doubt he would when finally the bear shifter strode through the door—with a big beefy arm looped around Atlas’s waist.

Not the plan.

So not the plan.

Atlas was on perimeter duty. He was supposed to radio when Glen was close, then stay outside, in case things inside went sideways and Robin needed an emergency escape snap while dashing out.

He was not supposed to let another man put his hands on him.

The only thing that kept Robin from vaulting off his barstool was the fact Atlas wasn’t pretending to be Evan. He was very much in his Atlas element, blond hair perfectly coiffed, chin held high, wearing the kilt and leather harness he’d changed into at his condo.

Evan needed to see—or at least hear about—his twin being free and out in the open, no longer Robin’s prisoner. And there he was, on the dance floor at Club Sutro in another man’s arms. Two flashing neon targets for the three other bounty hunters in the room. “Shit.”

Jason squeezed in next to him at the bar. “There was an altercation outside,” he whispered low. The phoenix had already been at the club when Robin arrived, and because Robin still didn’t fully trust his mate, he’d roped Jason into reconning the recon man.

“Who?” Robin asked.

“Another bounty hunter. We dispatched him. Glen was going to leave, but Atlas convinced him to come inside and forget about it.”

Forget about it.

Robin clenched his teeth. Was that what Atlas said to all the guys? Had he just been giving him the same line earlier at the lake?

“What do you want to do here?” Jason asked as he raked a hand through his dark unruly curls.

“Kill him.”

“Yes, we all know. But like, right now, what do you want to do?”

Robin jutted his chin toward the hunter in the booth. “The feline shifter on the end there is here for the same reason as us. Get Kai to give you a bottle of bourbon on Adam’s tab, then go join them. Box the shifter in.”

“What are you going to do?” Jason asked.

“See the flirty human couple on the dance floor?”

“The ones looking for a third?”

Robin nodded. “More like hunters looking to lure their target. I’m going to make sure neither Atlas nor Glen end up in their hands.”

“On it,” Jason said, then wove his way to the other end of the bar, leaning over it to whisper in his boyfriend’s ear.

With the feline shifter handled, Robin focused on his targets and enacted a plan to foil theirs. He tipped back the rest of his beer, slid off the stool, and removed his flannel, stripping down to the black tank he had on underneath.

Heads swiveled his direction, including a certain blond one, the owner’s green gaze furious.

Good.

Even better that the bounty hunter pair had also picked him up on his way to the dance floor.

He hadn’t danced in years, but he must have been convincing enough, the woman hunter crooking her finger to call him over.

Robin’s gaze slid back to Atlas, who was watching him over Glen’s shoulder, the bear shifter oblivious to his partner’s wandering eye.

Robin made a deliberate sweep of his gaze, to the booth where Jason was sliding in next to the hunter there, then back to the couple who had eyes on him.

Identifying the threats for Atlas before Robin returned his attention to the couple meeting him halfway on the dance floor.

The woman slung an arm over his shoulder, drawing him closer while her partner hemmed him in from behind, his tall, toned body pressed against Robin’s back.

“How about we make a deal?” the woman said.

“The three of us take the two of them.” She tipped her head toward where Atlas and Glen were dancing.

“Then we split the bounties three ways?”

“I don’t need your help,” Robin said.

The sharp point of a blade pressed against his back, right over his kidney. “We don’t need you either,” the man said. “Call it professional courtesy.”

“You think you can catch them?” Robin replied. “A warlock who can snap his way out of anywhere and a giant bear shifter.”

“The warlock got away from you,” the woman said. “You need us too.”

Robin pretended to be conflicted while swaying between the bodies on either side of him.

“What’ll it be?” the guy said, and Robin honestly wondered if he was asking about the bounties or the boner he notched against the seam of Robin’s jeans, sliding it along his ass crack.

“All right,” Robin said, playing along and rocking back his hips, distracting the already distracted. “You two take the warlock. He’s smaller. I’ll take the shifter.”

He didn’t give them a chance to argue, ducking out from between them and spinning toward Atlas and Glen. The head start gave him time to crowd behind Glen and whisper, “Did he explain to you what’s going on?”

“I’m in,” the bear said.

“Good, then shift!”

A giant bear appearing in the middle of a crowded club was a recipe for disaster. Add a roaring coyote and a warlock throwing orbs of green magic, and almost everyone was headed to the exits. None of the other paranormals, including Jason’s mark, wanted any part of the chaos.

Only the two human hunters were dumb enough to try and battle Atlas while Robin made a show of cornering the bear.

He lunged, no teeth, and Glen made it seem like he was surrendering, letting Robin hold him down by the neck.

If word got back to Evan, it would be of a catch by Robin.

And of another escape by his twin, Atlas using his magic to throw the hunter pair into the backbar before snapping out of there.