Layla Nash - A Valentine's Chase (City Shifters: the Pride) Page 4

  I nearly tripped over my good leg as I swung towards the bathroom, so focused on the door to the ladies' room I almost didn't notice as a door opened on my right. For a split second I thought I saw Rafe standing there, but when I glanced up, only a dark-haired woman with several piercings looked at me. I chalked it up to the pain meds and gratefully accepted her help opening the door to the bathroom so I could navigate my way through. Until I looked back and saw him, silhouetted by the brighter lights in the main bar — Rafe. Rafe, even more gorgeous in jeans and a sweater with his hair mussed and carrying a bag of something, stood there and stared at me. Stared at me as if he couldn't believe what he saw.

  The door swung shut and it was just me and the woman in the bathroom, but I kept staring at the door, imagining Rafe must think I was some kind of a stalker. My cheeks burned. I took a shaky breath and hobbled into the stall, cursing as I maneuvered the crutches and almost fell into the commode. The woman snorted and said, "Let me hold something, hon."

  I gritted my teeth as I handed her the crutches and held on to the handrail on the wall as I tried to maneuver my pants and the cast and not drop straight into the toilet. "Thanks. I'm Meadow, by the way."

  "Ruby," she said. "How'd you hurt your leg?"

  "I got overly ambitious with my footwear," I said. I didn't mind talking while I peed, but talking to a complete stranger seemed a bit ridiculous. Thank God for the pain meds, lowering my give-a-shit meter to almost zero. "And I rolled it running away from a bad date."

  "A bad date, huh?" Her teeth flashed white in the mirror as I opened the door and hopped to the other sink, and she checked her lipstick as I washed my hands. "What, was he hideous? Smell bad? Stupid hair?"

  I laughed, drying my hands and looking around for the crutches. "Not that bad. He was rude and too good looking, so I panicked."

  Even once I had the crutches tucked under my arms and I could brace against them, I wasn't ready to brave the hallway. Maybe Rafe still stood there, waiting for me. My heart leapt, then plummeted. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he ran as soon as he saw me.

  "Are you hiding in here, honey, or you got more business to take care of?" And her dark eyebrows rose in expressive wings over her eyes.

  "No, I just — thought maybe I saw him out there." I forced a smile to my face and my shoulders back. "But no use hanging out in here. Thank you, Ruby."

  "Any time," she said, and held the door open for me.

  I swung into the hall and didn't want to notice how empty it was. I bit the inside of my cheek and concentrated on not falling on my face as the crutches dug into my sides and the heavy cast on my leg threw off my balance. I felt like a walking sideshow, particularly as I rounded the corner and stumbled to a halt, the attention of every single person in the bar landing on me. Heat climbed my cheeks as I stared back, wondering what the hell happened while we were in the bathroom, but Ruby edged around me and snapped her fingers at the people near the pool table. They immediately jerked into action and became loudly distracted by some of the junk on the walls, and I eyed the tall woman with suspicion. What the hell was going on?

  I made it exactly three more steps before I had to take a breath. Rafe leaned on the bar near where Smith sat, and the two of them looked involved in a deep, dramatic conversation. And Ruby walked right up to the table, smacked her palm on it, and tilted her head back at where I stood. My heart sank as all three of them looked at me. It had to be a conspiracy of some sort. I hardened my heart against whatever sort of matchmaking Uncle Smith planned, and swung myself toward the tall chair so I could put my foot up.

  "Well, this is awkward."

  Smith smiled easily. "Not awkward at all, my dear. I've known Rafe and Ruby O'Shea for some time, so when you described the villain from your date last night, I assumed it was the same Rafe."

  "The villain," Ruby said, chuckling. She winked at me and threw a companionable arm around my shoulders. "Darlin', I love it. You need a beer or something?"

  "No thanks," I said, flushing as I refused to meet Rafe's gaze. He seemed rattled, but I couldn't understand why. There wasn't any reason for him to look so discomfited because of me. Maybe Smith said something to him. "I'm already high on whatever the hospital gave me."

  "Even better," she said. Ruby abruptly straightened, focus on someone on the other side of the room, and said, "Excuse me," before marching over to knock some heads together near the pool table.

  Which left Rafe, Smith, and I at the table, in an uncomfortable silence, until a waiter slouched over from the back with a few plates of comfort food. My stomach growled at just the smell of bacon and cheese, and I didn't even care that handsome Rafe stood there and watched me dig in. Screw him. I wasn't going to mince around and eat salad just because he looked like he was carved from granite and had probably never eaten anything made of sugar or carbs or fat in his life.

  A big blonde dude ambled out of the hall near the bathroom, and his face lit up when he spotted Smith. He wandered over and shook my uncle's hand. "Smith, great to see you."

  Smith went through the introductions, and my hand disappeared into the giant blonde's paw. He reminded me of a golden retriever: big and friendly and energetic, eager to please. I smiled despite the nerves of having Rafe close enough to touch, but almost lost my composure as the blonde guy, named Carter, asked to talk to Smith about some private business in the back. And my uncle patted my hand and followed him, leaving me to stare at Rafe and sneak some french fries off Smith's plate.

  Rafe came around the bar and slid into the seat Smith had vacated, his dark eyes intense as he studied me. "How's your leg?"

  "Broken," I said, trying to sound cheerful and not as though just the thought of the broken bones almost sent me into a panic. I couldn't afford to have a broken foot. I couldn't afford to miss work or pay the extra hospital bills. But with the pain meds and a pile of nachos in front of me, it didn't really matter that much. "Pretty badly, from what the doc said. I cracked a bunch of the small bones in my ankle and the top of my foot, so they can't do anything to set it and I just have to..."

  I trailed off as I realized I babbled, unnerved by his presence and the easy way he occupied all the space next to me. He hadn't seemed that big the night before, but he damn well took up a lot of room.

  He smiled. "You have to what?"

  "I forget." I flushed and concentrated on the food, shaking my head. "How do you know my uncle?"

  "Smith?" Rafe leaned back and frowned as he studied the room, his graceful fingers drumming on the table. "He works a lot with some friends of mine, and he's helped out several people I know. Since we're all pretty close, we consider him part of the family."

  Part of the family. Lucky Uncle Smith, to have an extra family like Rafe and Ruby and Carter. A surge of jealousy made me unwise, and I sipped from Smith's beer just to get the taste of anger out of my mouth. Even nachos didn't help. I had no one in the city, just Smith, and despite him being kind of an odd duck, he managed to surround himself with good people. Good friends. I had Olga and her wannabe rock star.

  When I looked up, Rafe leaned to retrieve a fresh soda and a glass of water for me as well, sliding them next to my plate. He said gently, "Probably not a good idea to mix beer and the stuff that's making you so loopy."

  "I'm not loopy," I said, with as much dignity as I could muster. Even though he was right and I'd thought the same thing only a few minutes before. Dad always said I was too stubborn and contrary for my own good. Always looking for trouble, and if I didn't find it, I made it up. Or so they said. "And since I've been making all sorts of bad choices lately, what's another one?"

  He smiled, the first easy expression I'd seen on him all night, and rested his chin on his fist so he could study me. "Oh? What other bad choices have you been making, Meadow?"

  The way he said my name sent shivers all the way through me, even into the blurry area of my broken leg, and I wanted to giggle. I could come up with all kinds of bad choices to make with him. "Well, these nachos, to sta
rt. Bad choice. Borrowing Olga's heels. Bad choice. Going on Olga's date for her. Bad choice. Having Olga as a roommate even though she takes my food and borrows my car and doesn't fill it up and her boyfriends are usually addicted to something and try to steal my stuff. That's, like, a million bad choices."

  "Well," he said, and tapped the edge of the plate before he nudged it closer to me. "I happen to know those nachos have healing properties, so that probably qualifies as a good choice."

  "Liar," I said, unable to hide my smile. He had ridiculously long eyelashes, the kind I would have killed for. Instead I bought fake ones and almost blinded myself with glue. Lucky bastard.

  Rafe made a grumbly sound and his elbow bumped mine on the table until I looked at him. His voice went all deep and husky, a soft secret between us. "And I happen to think the only bad decision you've made lately is not giving me your phone number. So that's easily remedied."

  I laughed. "Oh, really? Maybe that was the only good decision I've made in weeks."

  "How could that be a good decision?" He seemed pleased, or at least entertained, and smiled more.

  "Because you look like someone who's going to break my heart." I tried to school myself into a stern expression. "And I'm not about to put up with that."

  "Never." His face grew thoughtful, and I jumped when I felt his fingers rest against the back of my hand in a gentle caress. "Meadow, please know I would never, ever hurt you. Smith would murder me horribly if I even thought about being less than a perfect gentleman."

  "I might murder you first," I said, and regretted it. Who the hell threatened a guy when he was trying to ask her out? I wanted to slap my forehead and crawl under the table.

  "I remember," Rafe said, dark eyes searching my face, and heat ignited in my cheeks. He smiled enough that I saw the white edges of his teeth. "Air horn, mace, and taser. In that order, or do you like to mix it up?"

  "I can't tell you that, it'll ruin the surprise." I shook my head and reached for the soda, wishing someone would open the door so some of that winter air would drive the heat from my cheeks. Holy hell. "You're very confident."

  "Normally, yes. But you're knocking me back a step, Meadow." He gestured at one of the younger men milling around the pool tables, and almost immediately the kid retrieved two fresh beers from behind the bar. He grinned bashfully at me before he retreated back to the pool table, though Rafe didn't seem to have noticed that we'd drawn the attention of the entire damn bar. They must have been his friends, to watch him so closely. Maybe there was a bet.

  I pushed away the surge of uncertainty. Smith wouldn't bring me into a situation like that. I took the ale Rafe offered and sipped it. "Why do you say that?"

  "I didn't expect you," he said. "And usually my world is very orderly. You are a very nice surprise. But that means I'm not quite sure how to ask you out."

  The ale was a bad idea. My thoughts went all bubbly and fuzzy at the same time, and I saw us together in a sudden flash, comfortable and at home in a fancy apartment. My imagination took off with it, showing me wedding pictures and baby pictures for kids who would never exist, and a business and a perfect life. Perfection, dressed up like Rafe. I shook it off and tried to smile. "That's easy. You shouldn't."

  "Why not?"

  I hesitated, my gaze drifting to the pool table and the group of people still waiting expectantly, and took a deep breath. Just as I geared up to tell him my world wouldn't fit with his and I tended to misinterpret things and needed a low-stress life, the bell over the door rang, a convenient distraction. I looked up, blinking as the cold air swirled in a cloud of snow and with it came a wolf. A wolf?

  It couldn't be. I frowned and tried to wipe away the mirage, certain it was a hallucination or a product of the medication or my overactive imagination. Wolves didn't run around the city. Maybe it was a big dog.

  Puzzled, I watched as a giant fucking wolf leapt into the bar and launched straight up. At Rafe. At me. A scream died in my throat as the animal snarled and all I could see were its teeth.

  Chapter 7

  Rafe thought he was making progress with Meadow when the door opened and a rogue wolf leapt through the door. It bounded at Meadow and something broke in Rafe's head. He didn't mean to shift, didn't mean to reveal that side of himself, but there was no other way to save her. He met the intruder, teeth to teeth, and fought it back despite sudden spikes of pain in his shoulder where the bastard struck home. Rafe snarled and the pack rushed forward.

  Which was just as well, because the intruder wasn't alone. More wolves poured through the door, and Rafe fought harder, trying to keep them away from Meadow even as his paws slid on the bloody floor. Ruby howled and threw a table across the bar before launching into her wolf form. One of the pack members who remained human scrambled to the door and slammed it shut, barricading it so no one else could get in. And no one could get out.

  Rafe concentrated only on the next wolf to fight, blood filling his mouth, and put down a third or fourth wolf. There seemed to be dozens of them, snapping and snarling and foaming at the mouth, and he had a split second to wonder if they were diseased or high. There was no other reason for a pack of shifters to change and run into a bar in a heavily-populated part of the city on a Friday night. At least there weren't any humans left in the bar. Except for Meadow and Smith.

  A roar shook the bar as Carter finally got pissed off enough to change to his lion form, and a gold streak distracted Rafe just as one of the wolves drove into his side and knocked him off his feet. He snarled and fought back, panic restricting his chest as he caught sight of Meadow fending off a beast with one of her crutches. Rafe charged the bastard, hating that Meadow screamed and tried to jump onto the bar despite the weight of her cast, and wrenched the wolf away. Blood dripped into his eyes and Rafe shook his head, looking around at the disaster being made of his bar.

  The intruders kept fighting, regardless of how many wounds and broken bones they sustained. They just wouldn't stop. He crouched in front of Meadow and braced himself to kill as many wolves as it took to protect her. Carter the lion slid and crashed through half a dozen tables, turning them into kindling, and something else rushed the door from the outside. Rafe snarled. He'd die before any of them touched Meadow. Before any got close enough to really look at her.

  Just as Rafe prepared to go down fighting two mad-eyed wolves, an eerie whistle started on the other side of the bar. He didn't dare look away from the intruders, but a pearlescent glow filled the room until it blinded him. A voice that shook like thunder rolled through the bar and almost knocked him off his feet, and every one of the enemy wolves dropped to the ground. Dead.

  Rafe blinked to clear his vision as the glow faded, and saw Smith standing among the broken tables, his hands raised. The man had never looked so terrifying. Rafe's hackles rose and a growl vibrated through his chest, and he retreated closer to Meadow. Just in case.

  Smith shook himself and the glow disappeared, the wind died down, and everything in the bar turned to silence. Except for Meadow, practically hyperventilating where she sat half-on the bar. Rafe braced himself and forced himself back to human form. Being alpha came first, at least for now. Once he could talk, he started issuing orders to the rest of the pack to clean up, check the perimeter, and figure out a defense in case any more of the intruders showed up.

  Sirens rose in the distance and he cursed, turning to survey the damage. If the cops showed up, there was no way to explain the dead wolves, the blood, and the broken furniture. But mostly the wolves. He snapped and everyone changed, working silently to drag the wolf bodies into the storeroom. Ruby and Carter limped upstairs and threw down clothes so everyone could at least put on sweatpants, old jeans, or coveralls. He dragged on sweatpants and finally approached Meadow, even though he could feel the strength draining out of him as his wounds bled.

  "Meadow," he said, and his voice rasped into nothingness. The rest of the room grew dark as he focused on her, concentrating all of his remaining strength on staying on
his feet and close to her. She still looked panicked, on the verge of falling apart, and he hated it. He wanted to hold her, to reassure her, but when he shuffled a step closer, she sucked in a frightened breath and nearly fell off the back of the bar.

  "Let me." Smith brushed past him and held out a hand to Meadow, though something about him seemed to radiate static and gave Rafe goose bumps.

  The wolf growled as Smith did the work Rafe wanted to do, but at least Meadow slid down from the bar and leaned against the investigator. The sirens grew louder and Rafe cursed, trying to formulate an explanation. "Okay, guys. There was a brawl. College aged white dudes, probably drunk frat guys, mixed it up. We stopped them, threw them out, but the damage was done. That's the story. Got it?"

  The pack nodded and a few tried to repair chairs enough to sit down, and two retrieved the over-stuffed medical bag from the back room. Rafe wanted desperately to explain to Meadow, to reassure her, but there wasn't time. Instead, he nodded at the back staircase, past the bathrooms and storeroom, and said tersely to Smith, "Probably better if you guys wait upstairs until the cops leave. There's a couch in the living room where she can put her leg up."

  "Very well." Smith hardly blinked as he helped Meadow with the crutches, as if he saw wolf brawls every night, and they disappeared up the stairs just as the flashing lights of the police cruisers pulled up outside.

  Rafe braced himself for a long night, and tried to wipe some of the blood off his chest with a bar towel as he limped toward the barred door to let the cops in. No telling which of their neighbors called the cops. Most of the bars and businesses in the area did better when cops weren't involved. Although seeing a pack of wolves racing into the bar might have pushed the bounds of acceptability. He rubbed his temples at an odd rushing sound in his ears, tasting blood, and braced himself on the wall before he pitched face-first into the bar.

  Ruby took one look at him, at the wounds all over his chest, and shook her head. "Nope. You're going upstairs, too."