Hour of the Lion

“Give me back my money.” Hands on hips, the girl had the bravado of a child who’d never been seriously hurt.

That kid was about to learn a really hard lesson. Vic scowled as she eased off the bar stool and crossed the room. And how dumb was this? She hadn’t even healed up from the last fight.

The bastard actually swung at the girl.

Almost too late, Vic slammed her forearm into his, knocking his punch to one side. The kid squeaked in shock and back-pedaled quickly. ’Bout time.

So. Stand down and let him go? Naw, letting the asshole steal from a baby didn’t sit right. “Give the kid back her money, and your afternoon won’t be ruined,” Vic said softly.

“Get the fuck out of my way, or I’ll smash your face.” He waved a beefy fist at her.

Vic pushed the little girl farther away and out of the field of fire. Across the room, the other bar occupants were moving to assist.

She didn’t need or want help. “Oooo, now I’m scared.”

His face turned beet red as his anger overcame his brain-whatever brain he had. Probably not much bigger than his dick. He let out a roar and swung.

Perfect. Vic moved six inches.

His fist hit the door. “Fuck!” Shaking his hand, he reeled back.

While he was distracted, Vic plucked the money out of his undamaged hand. After opening the door, she stood in the opening, waving the dollar bills tauntingly.

He lunged at her. “Bitch, you’re gonna-”

That widdle brain probably couldn’t think of a word nasty enough, Vic figured, and she moved out of the way again. Well, almost out of the way. She did happen to stick her foot out. And maybe lift it a little to improve the guy’s dive.

What a great dive. Face first into the pavement. “Ouch,” Vic said sympathetically, leaning on the open door. “I bet that hurt.”

“Yes, I would assume it did,” said a deep, cold voice next to her.

Her hands coming up in a defensive move, Vic spun to face the man. Black clothing, leanly muscular, chiseled features, forbidding expression. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Deadly. She hadn’t even heard him approach. Dammit, nobody moved that quietly.

He eased two steps back. “Pardon me. I was simply admiring your work. Bloody fine job.”

Vic was taken in by the calm tone until she met his gaze. His pupils were black with fury.

“Well. Thank you.” A little unnerved, she turned to check the trucker, but he was alive although staggering.

The girl peeked out of the door, saw her assailant retreating, and grabbed Vic around the waist for a hug. As her ribs threatened to cave in, Vic managed not to scream-somehow-though the world spun like a top.

“Oh, thank you! I was, like, really, really scared,” she babbled as Vic tried to escape. The girl had a grip like a plumber’s wrench.

“Here’s your money,” Vic gasped, handing over the dollar bills in exchange for being released.

“Jamie.” The man said the girl’s name, uninflected, just the name, and, shoving the money into her pocket, the child turned to stand military straight in front of…her father?

He was a good six-three, with black hair and a dark complexion where Jamie was short and fair. The kid’s features looked nothing like his, and boy, her impulsive attitude was nothing like his. The man was like a volcano filled with molten magma controlled by thick rock walls. The trucker should be grateful Vic got to him first-this guy would have incinerated him.

Jamie stared at her feet. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted my money.”

“Indeed. And did confronting a drunk work well for you?”

“I-I didn’t think he’d get so mad.” Her voice was only a whisper. “I was scared.”

Just when Vic had decided the father was a real asshole, he wrapped the little girl in his arms. “So was I, Jamie, so was I.”

Vic bit her lip as her insides turned to mush. Fucking-A, she’d turned into a wimp. Time for a quiet retreat. She glanced at the shaken young couple in the middle of the room, received a thumbs-up from the pool players closer to the door. Rubbing her ribs, she eased away.

The mission had been fun, but not exactly a success-no books, dammit. After letting the door close behind her, she made it partway across the parking lot when she heard the man’s voice. “Stop.” The “please” that followed seemed to an afterthought.

Vic hesitated. Aftermaths, thank yous, and all that shit tended to suck.

But the kid moved faster than a cockroach in the light and planted herself square in Vic’s path. “Daddy wants to talk to you.”

Vic sighed. Knocking munchkins ass-over-teakettle just wasn’t done. She reversed direction with Jamie skipping beside her.

The man held his hand out, his dark eyes intent on hers. “My name is Calum McGregor. This is my bar.” His fingers were callused, firm, and very strong. “Thank you for helping my daughter.”

“I’m Victoria Waverly. And she shouldn’t be left alone in your bar,” Vic said bluntly.

“No, she shouldn’t.” Narrowed eyes the color of slate turned toward his daughter.

The kid’s head went down again. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I saw the men leave and I wanted my tip. I didn’t want that man to take my money.”

“Jamie, he nearly flattened you.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Vic smothered a smile. Neat trick the girl had, turning a man into a marshmallow. I should take notes.

“We’ll talk at supper tonight,” he said as Jamie pulled the door open. Just when the girl probably thought she’d escaped reprisal, he added, “Before then, please determine what punishment you think would be appropriate.”

Heaving a sigh, Jamie disappeared inside.

“She wasn’t expecting that one,” Vic said in approval.

“Indeed.” The man tucked his fingers under Vic’s arm, steered her firmly across the room, and settled her at the bar. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Just water, please.”

He set a bottled water and glass in front of her and leaned his elbow on the counter. “Is there a way in which I might repay you for saving my daughter?”

Vic almost asked for a book, then reconsidered as she opened the water and took a sip. She needed information about the shifter beasts. She needed to find Lachlan’s grandfather. What better place to do recon than the local-and only-tavern? “I’d like a job.”

“A job?” Calum felt as if the little female had punched him.

Hire a human? In his tavern? He’d offered repayment for balance. The Law of Reciprocity had to be observed, even if with a human. He’d expected her to wave his gesture away or name a monetary amount. But employment? He was trapped in a net of his own making. “Let me think.”

She nodded and sipped her water peacefully, the least anxious job applicant he’d ever seen. He studied her for a minute, taking in the diminutive body-maybe five-four-trim, but shapely with especially fine breasts. Big eyes, long hair that made a man want to tangle his fingers in it, full lips…a lethal little package, in more ways than the trucker had discovered.

He opened a bottle of water for himself, buying time. Two problems arose. The first-the door to the forest tunnels was in the hallway. Would she notice shifters using it? Probably not. She’d spend most of her time in the main room, and the hall also held the restrooms and back exit so there was a reason for people being in that area.

Secondly, how would his shifter customers react to a human employee?

A handful of shifters-especially the older ones-hated humans. Unfortunately for them, unless they wanted to live completely isolated or in Elder Village without amenities, they had to rub shoulders with humans. He looked