They strode out of the room and the hotel in strangely comfortable silence. All he wanted to do was drag her back to bed and keep her there all night long. But he couldn’t miss this meeting, and she wanted to go back to her friends. And those guys at her table. His teeth ground together, thinking of them. It was obvious she hadn’t been with any of them, but what about now? What if—
“We’re here,” she announced as they stopped across the street from Blood Moon. “Why don’t you join us inside?”
“I can’t,” he said. “I shouldn’t.”
“You’re overthinking this.” Her mismatched eyes sparkled as she smiled up at him. “Look, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But don’t think that—”
God, she was so beautiful. He couldn’t help himself and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her until the air in his lungs expired.
She blinked and sighed, then lay her head on his chest. “Will you call me?”
No. “Sure.” He couldn’t. Too much had passed between them. If he was smart, he’d pass on the intelligence to his contact and then leave New York and Isabelle Brooklyn Bridge and never look back.
Pulling away, she dropped her arms to her sides. “I’ll be waiting for that call.” She turned on her heel and headed back to the club.
You’ll be waiting a long time, princess. Of course, he wouldn’t call her. Delete her number, he told himself. Isabelle was not for him. Sure, she’d be mad, but she’d get over it. She was young and had the rest of her life ahead of her. She would meet someone more her style, better suited to her, someone who could give her everything she wanted. She didn’t deserve a rough, jaded Lone Wolf biker like him. The only reason he came here was for revenge.
It took all his strength to turn away, but he managed to do it. Jogging back to the hotel parking garage, he got on his bike and headed downtown. He made it to the meeting point with two minutes to spare, though, when he entered the dingy diner, there was only one customer inside. The figure sat in the farthest booth in the corner, his back to the door, his head obscured by a dark hat. Ransom knew this had to be his contact, even though he’d never met any of them in the flesh. He strode toward the man in the hat and slipped into the opposite seat.
“I got your message,” he said.
The man raised his head slightly, though his eyes and face were obscured by dark glasses and the brim of the hat. He wore a dark trench coat, and the only bit of skin Ransom could see were his pale hands clasped together on the tabletop. “And what can you tell me about Blood Moon?”
He rattled off his observations, about the weakness in the security in the back. Before he left with Isabelle, he did notice a few other things—about how many employees were working and the amount of people inside. “Is that all?” he asked when he finished.
“Possibly.” The man stood up. “But … don’t leave New York yet. Seeing as you’re able to slip into places my colleagues and I cannot, I anticipate that we will have need of you.”
“Need of me? What are you planning? Why Blood Moon?”
“Why do you think?”
Realization hit Ransom like a ton of bricks. “You’re planning some kind of attack, aren’t you?”
The man didn’t answer.
“That’s not part of the plan. It’s not just Lycans in there. People could get hurt.” He slammed his fist on the countertop. “You said we were going to get back at Grant Anderson!”
The man remained unruffled. “We will hit the Alpha of New York where it will hurt the most—by getting rid of his subjects. What do you care about these people? You don’t know any of them. Your people are safe, far away from here.” His thin lips pulled back. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now.”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m not.”
“Then let me and my colleagues take care of everything. And be ready when we call on you.”
That last part sounded like a threat, and Ransom held his breath, waited for the man to walk away, and expelled it only when he was gone.
A dreaded feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. This was what he’d wanted for what seemed like forever. Grant Anderson was going to pay for what he did. The thought had been ingrained in him his whole life.
But he never thought he would meet Isabelle. She, obviously, was a regular at Blood Moon. What if she was there and they attacked—
Goddammit! No, he could not let her get hurt. He would have to make sure she wasn’t at Blood Moon tomorrow. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened his contacts, not even hesitating as he typed out a message to her.
I know I said I would call, but I couldn’t wait until morning, so how about a text?
To his surprise, the reply came back right away. A text is nice too. There was a pause as dots appeared on the screen, indicating she was still typing another message. I can’t stop thinking about tonight.
His stomach flip-flopped. Now he couldn’t either. Couldn’t stop thinking of her lips, her scent, her body. How about you come by tomorrow? Around eight p.m.
Should we meet at Blood Moon first?
“No!” He said it so loud, the lone waitress dozing in the corner started. Clearing his throat, he said, “Ma’am, can I get a cup of coffee?” He turned back to his phone and typed out a message.
Let’s skip Blood Moon for tomorrow. Just come over.
All right. Winky face emoji. I’m off to bed. Didn’t want to stay at the club longer.
Sweet dreams, princess.
With a deep sigh he put the phone back into his pocket and raked his
