Page 3

Nate

S tanding outside the bar where Ollie had told me to meet him, I double-checked the name and address.

Dicky’s Bar. This was definitely the place.

A nice place that was doing its best to look like a ritzy upscale bar.

It was the kind of place where business executives and stock traders went when they wanted to pretend they were gangsters in some old movie while staying in a nice part of town.

I was more of a dive-bar person myself, but it did have some charm.

I knew the Toronto area well. Most of my youth had been spent in and around the place.

As nomadic as my life was, I somehow always ended up back here, almost like the place had its own gravity pulling me in.

I had associates and contacts here, and the only real friend I’d ever had—Ollie.

I wasn’t the kind to settle down, but if I had to call someplace my hometown, this would be it, even though I hadn’t been back in several years.

I stepped in and glanced around to see if Ollie was here yet. Sniffing the air, I tried to catch his scent—hard in a place like this. The overwhelming smells of alcohol, bitters, citrus, and cigar smoke made it nearly impossible to differentiate the more subtle smells of a specific shifter.

A visual check gave me nothing, either. It had been several years since I’d seen him, so he could have a shitty new haircut or a beard.

After I scanned the bar, I didn’t see anyone here who looked like Ollie, new hairstyle or not.

Of course. He wasn’t known for punctuality and never had been.

Not sure why I’d expected that to have changed.

I ran a hand through my silvery brown hair—the same color as my wolf’s fur when I shifted—trying to tame it after my helmet had mussed it up.

Strolling to the bar, I glanced at the liquor shelves. It was an impressive selection. At least I could unwind with a nice glass of something while I waited. I sat at the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish serving the group farther down.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?”

I turned and found a cute little number smiling at me. Grinning, I looked her up and down before locking on her eyes.

“What’s the best kind of whiskey you have?” I asked.

If she was offended by me checking her out, she didn’t let on; if anything, she seemed to like it. Already, I could smell her arousal—one of the many benefits of enhanced shifter senses.

“We’ve got Pappy Van Winkle,” she said with a flirtatious smile.

I barked a laugh and shook my head. “Honey, I’m not made of money. What do you have that isn’t three hundred bucks a shot?”

She chuckled and bit the corner of her bottom lip. “We have Macallan 12 and Glenfiddich if that’s more to your liking.”

I winked at her. “Sold. Macallan. Neat.”

She placed a beverage napkin on the bar before me, brushing her hand against mine. She’d done it on purpose, and I suppressed my smile.

“I’ll have Dave set you up in a minute,” she said, nodding toward the bartender.

“Appreciate it.”

I pulled my phone out. Ollie hadn’t responded to my last two texts. Rather than send another, I brought up his number to call him.

A belligerent voice from across the bar stopped me.

“How’s about you sit that pretty little ass here on Daddy’s lap, baby girl?”

A muscular, red-faced man of about forty was addressing the cute server who’d been helping me. My first instinct was to go over and tell him to watch his mouth, but she seemed feisty in her own right.

“Sorry, that’s not allowed,” she told him. My shifter hearing allowed me to hear her over the conversation in the bar. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to hurt that little thing between your legs.”

She set a mug of beer down in front of him and walked away as his two buddies guffawed. The guy looked pissed but threw his beer back, chugging half of it in a couple of seconds.

Going back to my phone, I called Ollie.

He answered on the third ring. “Hey, Nate, sorry about not responding to your messages?—”

“Hang on,” I said, cutting him off as the bartender approached.

“Whiskey, neat,” the man said, setting the glass down in front of me with a faint clink .

Nodding thanks to him, I said into my phone, “I swear to God, Ollie, if you aren’t here in a minute, I’m out.”

“Calm down, bro. I’m not even five minutes late; I’m literally almost there. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I had some paperwork for a case that took longer than I thought. Get me a gin and tonic, top shelf. See you in a second.”

Sighing, I ended the call and waved the bartender back over.

“Yes, sir?”

“Gin and tonic,” I said. “Whatever your best gin is. My friend is on the way.”

“Very good, sir.”

While the man made the drink, I glanced around, itching to get moving.

Dicky’s Bar had a classy, speakeasy vibe.

It was fairly busy, with lots of business folks coming in after work to let off a little steam.

Everyone looked relaxed and chilled out, sipping drinks and chatting over the faint sound of jazz music.

I wasn’t one of them. I was itching to get moving. I hated sitting still, and Ollie knew that. Hell, he was probably late on purpose just to screw with me.

The only person who didn’t look chilled out was the douchebag who’d been hitting on the waitress. He was eyeing her angrily. Something about the look in his eyes made me wary. I’d need to keep an eye on him.

I took a sip of my whiskey and tapped my ring—a band of silver twisted into a Celtic knot—on my glass in irritation.

Ollie and I could have done this over the phone, but that was dangerous.

Pack business had to be conducted in person at all times.

It lessened the chance of someone overhearing our business and the human world learning about shifters.

None of our kind wanted to be the dumbass who caused that to happen.

The bartender handed me Ollie’s drink. I took it and my own, then moved to one of the high-back booths near the door. It would afford us the privacy we needed whenever Ollie finally graced me with his appearance. It also gave me a good vantage point for all the exits and possible lines of sight.

Before I could get fully settled, the asshole at the bar made another lewd comment, drawing my attention again.

“You know what you need?” he said to that server. “You need a man, that’s what I think. How about you let me take you home tonight? Show you a real good time.”

“Sir, can you please just pay the tab?” she said. I didn’t miss the anxiety in her voice.

Sighing, I stood to get a better look at what was going on.

The interaction was being noticed around the bar.

Conversations were stopping, eyes turning in their direction.

I sniffed the air, and my stomach dropped.

Narrowing my eyes, I looked at the man more closely.

He was a fucking shifter. The jerk was making an ass of himself and drawing attention.

He leaned forward and ran a hand up her thigh. “I’ll pay the tab when you say yes.”

She flinched back and left, striding to the bar.

The drunk sat back. “Fucking humans trying to tell me what to do. Fuck them.”

My nostrils flared. If it weren’t for my enhanced hearing, I wouldn’t have heard the words he’d muttered under his breath.

That was too much. Too far. The friends beside him were human.

They’d probably assume he was mumbling drunk gibberish, but in reality, his drunk ass was close to exposing us to the human world.

This had to end. I needed this guy gone.

Before I took a step, the server returned and handed the man back his credit card. Instead of taking the card, he wrapped his hand around her wrist.

“You ever had a cock in your ass, baby? I’ll go real slow. Make it nice for you. I guarantee you’ll come. Let’s get the fuck out of here. If you’re good, I’ll let you suck me off after?—”

I stepped around the woman. “That’s enough.”

His eyes flashed with anger as he turned to address me. “And just who the fuck do you…” He trailed off, sensing that I was a shifter, too. Not only that, but I was superior to him in every way. He’d stepped in shit and knew it. He let go of the server, and she backed away behind me.

In most other situations, all it would take was the appearance of an angry, more powerful, and more muscular wolf to intimidate a lesser shifter.

This guy had obviously had too much to drink.

The alcohol inflated his ego and lowered his inhibitions.

He didn’t want to lose face, and the fact that I was stronger in every way wasn’t enough to deter him.

His shocked expression gave way to indignant rage.

“And just who the fuck do you think you are, big dog ?” he bellowed.

The last two words were a dangerous clue as to our true nature. All eyes and ears were on us now. My gray eyes narrowed.

“I’m the guy who’s telling you to leave the lady alone,” I said, leaning close, getting into his personal space.

“Do I need to show you why you need to leave?” I raised an eyebrow and let out a low growl, quiet enough that only he could hear it.

My inner wolf itched for a fight with this prick.

“Because I will,” I added, a cocky grin spread across my face.

The man snarled and lunged up from his seat, his left arm arching upward in an uppercut toward my chin.

He was fast but drunk. I pivoted and caught his wrist, my palm making a meaty smack on his skin.

In two quick moves, I twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him forward, bashing his cheek and temple onto the table. He let out a pained grunt.

“Nate, how many times have I told you to mind your manners in public?”