Bargain with the Bear: NORCAL SHIFTERS, #2

1

I ’ve always wanted to ask—do you guys use flea protection? Sherry Tate taunted the wolf shape-shifter sitting across from her in the back of the kidnapper van. Who knew they didn’t like being called werewolves? She had to learn that lesson the hard way.

Shut up. He cupped his groin. Unless you want me to put something in that smartass mouth of yours to keep you busy.

That made her shut up, at least for a minute. She couldn’t help it; she tried, she always did, but her go-to mode was sarcasm when scared or tired or…

Hell, who was she kidding? She always had a biting or snarky comment. Maybe it was a disorder, kind of like Tourette’s. Her mother warned her that not everyone would find her sense of humor charming. Actually, only two people on the planet got her, and she feared more for them than herself.

No, thank you. She gave him the smile reserved for difficult customers at her shop. I’m not into jerkins. Damn it, stop and think.

At least when the jackasses grabbed her and her two friends, they had each other, and the wolves left them alone. Terrified and drugged, they’d huddled in the back of the van, afraid to speak, unwilling to give the assholes the satisfaction of begging.

Because, let’s be real, kidnappers didn’t abduct you and then change their minds because you asked nicely.

At least, not on this planet and not in these times.

But, with them at her side, she’d held hope that somehow, someway, they’d escape—together. Then, once again, both the universe and the wolves decided not to cooperate, and they found themselves doped up for the second time in twelve hours. When she awoke, Sherry found herself alone.

Like every fairy tale, her story started with once upon a time, but instead of the happy, feel-good ending, she got stuck with a Brothers Grimm version. Ten years ago, her life was happy—almost perfect. With parents who cherished her, the two best friends on the planet, and a life that most people envied.

At that time, the world’s leaders declared mandatory vaccines for every citizen on the planet. Well, people did have choices—take the shot or go to a prison camp. She sighed. Right now, she wished her parents had chosen the latter.

One more fucking word and I’ll tell my alpha you met a tragic accident during your escape attempt.

Just in case the plastic genies decided to do her a solid, she tugged at her bound wrists. Nope, the zip ties might as well have been metal cuffs. Staring at Bill, the scarred man across from her, she imagined castrating him and relishing every bit of his agony.

The animal.

They were all animals, and she’d never allow herself to forget. The promise of rape and imminent torture in his eyes shut her up like nothing else could. When she turned her head to look out the front window, the wolf-shaped auras floating around the other two made her momentarily dizzy.

Of the three shifters in the van, only the driver’s shadow wasn’t solid black. He still had some goodness in him, but not much. As far as she was concerned, he became the evilest, because he valued his own hide over justice.

Joe, the one in the passenger’s seat, had an inky aura so dark it affected and darkened anyone he touched or got close to. And his eyes… She grew nauseous at the memory. They reminded her of an alligator, an ancient evil waiting to devour an unsuspecting victim, drowning and disabling them before its giant teeth tore through flesh.

She never wanted to find herself alone with his tender mercies.

The ability to read auras, to detect shifters and other supernaturals, had kept her and her friends safe for years.

Until it didn’t.

Thinking of Rose and Iris made her heart clench. Where were they? She whispered a fervent prayer of protection over the only sisters she’d ever have, and the only people on this screwed-up planet she’d ever love.

I see that got your attention, the leering jerk across from her mocked.

When she glanced at him, which she knew was a mistake, his eyes were focused on her torn shirt and exposed bra. She refused to cower in front of these bastards, but her mama didn’t raise a fool. One glance down at the bulge in his pants told her just how much he’d enjoy delivering on his promise.

If you’re nice, I just might buy you myself.

Sherry jerked her gaze up to his evil brown eyes. What?

Shut up, Joe said from passenger seat. You couldn’t fucking afford her anyway. He shifted around to glare at the wolf in the back. Don’t forget, the alpha will have our ass if anything happens to the cargo.

I’m not some filthy animal. Not like you. You can’t just sell me.

Joe looked at her, his eyes cold and hard, holding the knowledge that only their leader’s edict kept her alive. I wouldn’t touch you with someone else’s dick. I don’t like your kind, and I sure as hell don’t go diluting our blood with you stinking humans.

Sherry sucked in a breath, trying to melt into the side of the van. She heard his unsaid words loud and clear. When someone called a person racist these days, it usually had more to do with species than color. But from the look in his pale eyes, she was a two-time loser.

So shut the fuck up. You’re a paycheck, but I’m not above making you hurt.

Sherry nodded and lowered her gaze, trying her damnedest to ignore the fear clawing its way up her body.

I can taste your fear. Mike inhaled loudly and licked his lips.

She stared at the dirty grey carpet, ignoring him and recalling happier days, simpler ones. Most of those times revolved around her friends. Memories of dress-up tea parties with their moms, who’d been best friends since high school and raised them all together.

Until the three of them reached elementary school, the fact that Rose and Iris looked different from her family hadn’t registered. Well, it didn’t until a little redheaded wench pointed out that the Zahn girls couldn’t be her cousins because they were white.

She’d also learned Rose packed a mean punch when she socked the girl in the nose and the demon child’s perfect yellow dress became stained by blood. Sitting at their desks after school for a week for the brawl was worth every minute.

The three of them were fighters. They fought the grief over the loss of their parents. They fought to survive and thrive in a world of uncertainty, and they’d fight this.

If it were the last thing she did, she’d escape these jerks and rescue her friends.

2

S ince when did you grow a conscience? Alexander Hearne glanced around the dark parking lot littered with broken bottles, discarded cans, and used condoms. If the inside of the titty bar looked as jacked up as the parking lot, they needed new management. He didn’t smell a lie on the wolf, but that didn’t make him trustworthy.

Since I had to look into the eyes of the human women we kidnapped. It’s one thing to hook up with us by choice, but what we did? Bill shook his head. That shit ain’t right.

Then why the fuck are you staying with these dirt-bags calling themselves a pack? He took a drag off his cigarette, but couldn’t quite remember when he resumed the foul habit. Oh yeah, about the time he told his brother Barron he’d do him a favor.

What the hell was he thinking?

Who’d take me? He glanced around nervously. Plus, the Monterey pack is like the mafia. The only way out is cashing in your ticket to hell.

Now I remember why I like being a bear. No politics.

You’re not a one-woman bear, so what’s up?

Alexander retrieved an envelope of cash from inside his leather jacket, handing it to the wolf. He had to give it to Bill—the man had balls. You’ll get the other half if she’s the one. He’d already dismissed the wolf, but he made a mental note to call a decent pack to set up an introduction. If tonight panned out, they’d owe Bill a favor. Later.

Watch your back. Bill gave him a slight chin lift before returning to the shadows.

Always do. Alexander studied the wolf for a few seconds and nodded. Give me a call in a couple of weeks. If you live that long.

When he opened the door, he decided the interior was an improvement, but not by much. The garish seventies decor, the ripped leather seats patched with silver duct tape, and the sticky floor made him wonder why they called shitholes like this gentlemen’s clubs. Not one of the assholes in the dump was gentle, or even a man for that matter.

Including himself.

He snagged a bottle of beer from the bar. At least they’d sprung for free booze—the pricks. A pack into human trafficking wouldn’t be above drugging dumb fucks desperate enough to attend the auction, so he’d only drink unopened drinks.

Until he met his brother’s human mate, Iris, he hadn’t seen the appeal of tying down with one woman.

Why bother? Alexander had been with enough females—humans, shifters, witches, and even a vampire—to know they were all the fucking same in the sack. But Barron’s situation? That shit blew his mind. Barron and Iris weren’t just a couple—they were part of a triad. With a wolf.

And everyone called him the freak of the family.

He leaned against the bar and nursed his beer as they paraded the captives, introducing them like contestants in a forced concubine pageant. The faces of the other shifters—mostly predators—were greedy and hard. And if the scent of lust grew any stronger, they’d have to open the windows before a riot broke out.

The description he had to go by was vague—a curvy black chick with shoulder-length natural hair, whatever the hell that was, and a smart mouth. That wasn’t a lot of fucking help, but in the lineup of twenty women, it did narrow it down to three possibilities.

This bunch is better looking, an older wolf a couple of inches shorter than he was, which put him at six feet, said from beside him.

How many of these things have you been to? And why the hell would you brag about it to a stranger? The man didn’t have cruel eyes, but that didn’t mean shit. Instead of reporting it to the human authorities, the slim, sandy-haired wolf kept returning like it was a car show.

This is the third. He leaned back, took a drink of what smelled like watered-down whiskey, and glanced around. As distasteful as I find it, I want a mate. And if it’s true what they say about the human women… He shrugged. You’re here, so obviously you understand.

All too well, my friend. Actually, he didn’t understand at all, but the wolf next to him didn’t need to know that. At least he seemed the decent sort and not too desperate. If he were, he’d have already found someone moderately appealing and started breeding.

The man finished off his drink and sat the glass on the sticky bar. I’ll catch you later. I hope you have deep pockets, because the price of the prettiest ones tends to get pretty high.

Thanks. Alexander figured he might as well get the shit over with. Maybe he’d luck out and she wouldn’t be here, then he could go to a bar that had willing women.

Alexander knew he stood out in this crowd. With his tattoos, leathers, and beard, he looked like he’d be voted least likely to want a mate, and they’d be fucking right.

The wolf he just met gave him hope that at least some of the women might actually wind up with someone decent, instead of the sadistic type he figured would show up to one of these things. He thought of his sister in-law. She was a sweet little thing, a bit sassy, but she had to be with two mates. But one of these things would have broken her.

She might not believe it, but now that she was family, he’d move heaven and earth to keep her safe and happy. The only way to ensure that safety would be to start spending time at his home in the foothills. That wouldn’t be a bad thing, as long as they didn’t expect him to settle down and start having cubs.

But a nephew or niece wouldn’t be bad.

They’d spaced the women around the periphery of the club, each with a wolf guard. The whole thing left a taste in his mouth so foul that even drinking