travesty.”
“It only has a dusting of lace,” I said as I walked over to my purse. “Now get your pretty mind out of the gutter, Danny Walker, and let’s get out of here. I want to do some reconnaissance at the bar to get a better feel for the area before the meet.”
“Whatever you say. I’d follow that outfit anywhere.”
The bar was a relatively new hot spot, fairly close to my apartment building. Every Tuesday night, it seemed, they hosted an extended happy hour, so it was already hopping by the time we arrived. Minnesotans were notoriously after-work-happy-hour kind of people. For the most part, we liked to be home and tucked in by ten, and there was nothing like cheap drinks to lure out the masses.
Tyler met us across the street, handing me a button vibrator immediately. “We have every entry point covered within a two-block radius, and Nick is parked behind the bar. He’s got the other piece.” He nodded at the button. “But remember, now we have this”—he tapped his temple—“so you can let me know what’s happening immediately. I’ll be in close range, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Whatever you do, Jess, don’t leave the bar with him. Understand? He’s dangerous as hell, and completely unpredictable.”
“Got it.” I slid the panic button into my suit jacket pocket. “I’m not interested in finding any more trouble, Tyler. No need to worry about me, I’m all over the plan. Have you decided to stake the inside?” It’d been discussed but not determined.
“Nope, I decided it was too risky. If Rourke gets one whiff of wolf on the inside he may decide to cut and run,” Tyler said. “The plan is to track him when he leaves. But he’s a quick bastard, so I’m only giving us one-in- three odds of keeping a tail on him at all. You have to pump as much information as you can while you’re with him.”
I nodded. “My sole purpose is to gain information. I want to know where this threat is coming from. I’m not expecting him to divulge much, but anything we can get will be more than we have right now.”
“It’s not his style to snatch you here anyway, but keep your head up. You have to stay alert at all times.” Tyler ran a hand along the back of his neck. He was agitated. “Man, I don’t like it. I want to know what this guy is up to.”
“I don’t like it either.” Danny frowned. “This man is a known killer.”
“I know we can handle it,” I said. “And remember, if I don’t meet him, he comes to me. I don’t want a highly trained killer sneaking through my broken sliding glass door. My quota this month for nasty break-ins is passed its full mark.”
“I still don’t like it,” Tyler grumbled. “Something feels off.”
“Have either of you ever seen Rourke in person?” I asked curiously.
“Nope, he was around before my time,” Tyler said.
“No,” Danny added. “But I’ve heard my fill about the wanker.”
“Do you actually believe all the rumors?” I asked. “Some of the stories about Connor Dade are so outlandish. Tying people up by their entrails? Severed body parts spelling out words? Some of that has to be fiction. It’s just too creepy to be true.” It was common for mercs to inflate their profiles—plant stories to make them seem worse than they were. Fear went a long way in keeping yourself on top, and it sounded like Rourke had plenty of years behind him to do just that. If nobody ever saw him, it would be easy to fabricate stories of grandeur.
Tyler grunted. “I don’t need to believe any of the stories. I’ve seen pictures.”
“What pictures?” I asked.
“Of some of his kills.”
“Where did you get a hold of pictures?” I made a face. “How do you know they were his?”
“Doesn’t matter. The man’s a brutal-ass bastard.” Tyler folded his arms.
“Hmm,” I said. “Sounds a little unsubstantiated to me. I could hand you any photo I wanted and give you a good story. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“I’ve seen glimpses of the pictures too,” Danny said, ignoring me. “In one, the dead bloke was missing all his fingers. Every one of them had been cut down to the nubbin, each to a different knuckle. And on the middle stump he left a finger puppet behind.”
“What kind of finger puppet?” I asked out of grotesque curiosity.
“The bloke’s own nose with a smiley face drawn on it.”
Jesus.
The restaurant was covered in sleek, hard lines, and the walls were coated with dark paint. The lighting was minimal, giving it a calming ambiance, and it was packed to the brim.
I pushed my way through people waiting for tables and veered left toward the bar. We hadn’t specified dining options, but I figured the bar would be the best place to check first.
Is he there? Tyler asked in my mind. He was on edge. None of the wolves had scented a fresh supe trail anywhere around the building. If he was here, the cat had snuck in without the wolves knowing. And no one was happy about it.
Gimme a minute. I just got in here. My wolf was on high alert. As I worked my way through the crowd, I scanned the room for possibilities.
Then I spotted a lone shape at the end of the bar. He was huge, so it was a likely pick. He was clad in a black leather jacket, his forearms splayed casually on the bar, a tall draft beer sitting between them. The well- worn leather he wore was in stark contrast to the yuppie dress clothes around us.
I wove my way toward him slowly. I think I have him.
Be careful. If it’s him, ask him how the fuck he got there without us knowing, Tyler griped.
First things first, little brother.
His guy’s head was angled down, but as I eased closer, it swiveled without hesitation in my direction.
His eyes lit on me.
Then he smiled.
My stride hitched momentarily. Holy Christ. That can’t be Rourke. I recovered myself by the next step, thankfully.
What? What do you mean? Tyler asked.
Um. Nothing, it’s just … he’s not what I was expecting a killer to look like. This man oozed power, it was true, but he was beautiful. Honey-colored hair brushed his collar in the back, and he had a set of the clearest eyes I’d ever seen. Even from a distance, I could see they were ringed in a sliver of deep green. They were completely breathtaking, and most definitely not on any normal color chart.
Snort. Who cares if he doesn’t look like a killer, just be sure—
Tyler, I have to go. I’ll get back to you. I cut him off with a single thought.
Rourke’s gaze intensified as I came closer. I blinked a few times, but refused to look away. I slid onto the empty barstool next to him and sat down without being asked.
He appraised me with open curiosity. More than a hint of humor flashed behind those ridiculously gorgeous eyes. Up close his skin was flawless, tanned deeply from the sun. He had a short blanket of blond stubble running over a defined chin.
So not what I was expecting.
His power vibrated around me, sending little pinpricks of energy into my skin. It came from somewhere deep inside him, I could sense that much. He was old, there was no question. Power like that took a long time to accumulate.
“Hello, Rourke,” I said, taking in my first full breath of him. I almost choked as my nails shot into the underside of the bar to steady myself. Hoooooly shit. My wolf started barking incessantly. Quiet, I can’t think. Be quiet!
He smelled like the woods, like I’d originally guessed, but there was no fresh-cut grass about him. What emanated from him was thick, dark, and rich, like some kind of molasses mixed with cloves. Its deliciousness made it hard for me to concentrate. My wolf was still yipping excitedly. You have to calm down. We look completely unprofessional and he’s not going to take me seriously if we keep this up. Get a grip. She quieted begrudgingly so I could get down to business.
Rourke shifted in his seat slightly, turning his body to face mine. He gave me an unabashed once-over without uttering a word. By the amused expression on his face—a lazy grin highlighting two faint dimples—he recognized my distress, indicating that this kind of reaction to him was par for the course.
