Stormwalker: Nightwalker Part 33

"d.a.m.n you, Jones, I didn't run into that truck."

"Save it." He put the SUV in gear and pulled out past the flipped pickup as the deputies lifted my Harley and tossed carelessly it into the back of their truck.

Nash didn't turn on his emergency lights, but he gunned the SUV and roared down the highway. Ten miles along, the road ended in a T-intersection, another narrow highway heading north to Flat Mesa, the other south to Magellan. My hotel stood here, at the Crossroads, a dark, forlorn square against the darker sky. The Crossroads Bar, which shared a parking lot with the hotel, was lit and swarming with people.

I gazed longingly at the hotel, picturing my bedroom in the back with its waiting bed and bathroom, even if the water didn't work yet. That hotel was my haven, my defiance if you like.

Nash turned left, pa.s.sing the hotel without stopping, and headed north toward Flat Mesa.

End of Excerpt Order this book for Kindle and Kindle apps Read on for a look at Pride Mates

Book One

of s.h.i.+fters Unbound The New York Times Bestselling Paranormal Romance series by Allyson's alter ego Jennifer Ashley Pride Mates s.h.i.+fters Unbound

Book One

by Jennifer Ashley

Chapter One.

A girl walks into a bar . . .

No. A human girl walks into a s.h.i.+fter bar . . .

The bar was empty, not yet open to customers. It looked normal--windowless walls painted black, rows of gla.s.s bottles, the smell of beer and stale air. But it wasn't normal, standing on the edge of s.h.i.+ftertown like it did.

Kim told herself she had nothing to be afraid of. They're tamed. Collared. They can't hurt you.

"You the lawyer?" a man was.h.i.+ng gla.s.ses asked her. He was human, not s.h.i.+fter. No strange, slitted pupils, no Collar to control his aggression, no air of menace. When Kim nodded, he gestured with his cloth to a door at the end of the bar. "Knock him dead, sweetheart."

"I'll try to keep him alive." Kim pivoted and stalked away, feeling his gaze on her back.

She knocked on the door marked "Private," and a man on the other side growled, "Come."

I just need to talk to him. Then I'm done, on my way home. A trickle of moisture rolled between Kim's shoulder blades as she made herself open the door and walk inside.

A man leaned back in a chair behind a messy desk, a sheaf of papers in his hands. His booted feet were propped on the desk, his long legs a feast of blue jeans over muscle. He was a s.h.i.+fter all right--thin black and silver Collar against his throat, hard, honed body, midnight-black hair, definite air of menace. When Kim entered, he stood, setting the papers aside.

d.a.m.n. He rose to a height of well over six feet and gazed at Kim with eyes blue like the morning sky. His body wasn't only honed, it was hot--big chest, wide shoulders, tight abs, firm biceps against a form-fitting black T-s.h.i.+rt.

"Kim Fraser?"

"That's me."

With old-fas.h.i.+oned courtesy, he placed a chair in front of the desk and motioned her to it.

Kim felt the heat of his hand near the small of her back as she seated herself, smelled the scent of soap and male musk.

"You're Mr. Morrissey?"

The s.h.i.+fter sat back down, returned his motorcycle boots to the top of the desk, and laced his hands behind his head. "Call me Liam."

The lilt in his voice was unmistakable. Kim put that with his black hair, impossibly blue eyes, and exotic name. "You're Irish."

He smiled a smile that could melt a woman at ten paces. "And who else would be running a pub?"

"But you don't own it."

Kim could have bitten out her tongue as soon as she said it. Of course he didn't own it. He was a s.h.i.+fter.

His voice went frosty, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothing out. "You're Brian Smith's lawyer, are you? I'm afraid I can't help you much. I don't know Brian well, and I don't know anything about what happened the night his girlfriend was murdered. It's a long time ago, now."

Disappointment bit her, but Kim had learned not to let discouragement stop her when she needed to get a job done. "Brian called you the 'go-to' guy. As in, when s.h.i.+fters are in trouble, Liam Morrissey helps them out."

Liam shrugged, muscles moving the bar's logo on his T-s.h.i.+rt. "True. But Brian never came to me. He got into his troubles all by himself."

"I know that. I'm trying to get him out of trouble."

Liam's eyes narrowed, pupils flicking to slits as he retreated to the predator within him.

s.h.i.+fters liked to do that when a.s.sessing a situation, Brian had told her. Guess who was the prey?

Brian had done the predator-prey thing with Kim at first. He'd stopped when he began to trust her, but Kim didn't think she'd ever get used to it. Brian was her first s.h.i.+fter client, the first s.h.i.+fter, in fact, she'd ever seen outside a television news story. Twenty years s.h.i.+fters had been acknowledged to exist, but Kim had never met one.

It was well known that they lived in their enclave on the east side of Austin, near the old airport, but she'd never come over to check them out. Some human women did, strolling the streets just outside s.h.i.+ftertown, hoping for glimpses--and more--of the s.h.i.+fter men who were reputed to be strong, gorgeous, and well endowed. Kim had once heard two women in a restaurant murmuring about their encounter with a s.h.i.+fter male the night before. The phrase "Oh, my G.o.d," had been used repeatedly. Kim was as curious about them as anyone else, but she'd never summoned the courage to go near s.h.i.+ftertown herself.

Then suddenly she was a.s.signed the case of the s.h.i.+fter accused of murdering his human girlfriend ten months ago. This was the first time in twenty years s.h.i.+fters had caused trouble, the first time one had been put on trial. The public, outraged by the killing, wanted s.h.i.+fters punished, pointed fingers at those who'd claimed the s.h.i.+fters were tamed.

However, after Kim had met Brian, she'd determined that she wouldn't do a token defense.

She believed his innocence, and she wanted to win. There wasn't much case law on s.h.i.+fters because there'd never been any trials, at least none on record. This was to be a well-publicized trial, Kim's opportunity to make a mark, to set precedent.

Liam's eyes stayed on her, pupils still slitted. "You're a brave one, aren't you? To defend a s.h.i.+fter?"

"Brave, that's me." Kim crossed her legs, pretending to relax. They picked up on your nervousness, people said. They know when you're scared, and they use your fear. "I don't mind telling you, this case had been a pain in the a.s.s from the get-go."

"Humans think anything involving s.h.i.+fters is a pain in the a.s.s."

Kim shook her head. "I mean, it's been a pain in the a.s.s because of the way it's been handled. The cops nearly had Brian signing a confession before I could get to the interrogation.

At least I put a stop to that, but I couldn't get bail for him, I've been blocked by the prosecutors right and left every time I want review the evidence. Talking to you is a long shot, but I'm getting desperate. So if you don't want to see a s.h.i.+fter go down for this crime, Mr. Morrissey, a little cooperation would be appreciated."

The way he pinned her with his eyes, never blinking, made her want to fold in on herself.

Or run. That's what prey did--ran. And then predators chased them, cornered them.

What did this man do when he cornered his prey? He wore the Collar; he could do nothing.

Right?

Kim imagined herself against a wall, his hands on either side of her, his hard body hemming her in . . . Heat curled down her spine.

Liam took his feet down and leaned forward, arms on the desk. "I haven't said I won't help you, la.s.s." His gaze flicked to her blouse, whose b.u.t.tons had slipped out of their top holes during her journey through Austin traffic and July heat. "Is Brian happy with you defending him? You like s.h.i.+fters that much?"

Kim resisted reaching for the b.u.t.tons. She could almost feel his fingers on them, undoing each one, and her heart beat faster.

"It's nothing to do with who I like. I was a.s.signed to him, but I happen to think Brian's innocent. He shouldn't go down for something he didn't do." Kim liked her anger, because it covered up how edgy this man made her. "Besides, Brian's the only s.h.i.+fter I've ever met, so I don't know whether I like them, do I?"

Liam smiled again. His eyes returned to normal, and now he looked like any other gorgeous, hard-bodied, blue-eyed Irishman. "You, love, are--"

"Feisty. Yeah, I've heard that one. Also spitfire, little go-getter, and a host of other condescending terms. But let me tell you, Mr. Morrissey, I'm a d.a.m.n good lawyer. Brian's not guilty, and I'm going to save his a.s.s."

"I was going to say unusual. For a human."

"Because I'm willing to believe he's innocent?"

"Because you came here, to the outskirts of s.h.i.+ftertown, to see me. Alone."

The predator was back.

Why was it that when Brian looked at her like this, it didn't worry her? Brian was in jail, angry, accused of heinous crimes. A killer, according to the police. But Brian's stare didn't send s.h.i.+vers down her spine like Liam Morrissey's did.

"Any reason I shouldn't have come alone?" she asked, keeping her voice light. "I'm trying to prove that s.h.i.+fters in general, and my client in particular, can't harm humans. I'd do a poor job of it if I was afraid to come and talk to his friends."

Liam wanted to laugh at the little . . .spitfire, but he kept his stare cool. She had no idea what she was walking into; Fergus, the clan leader, expected Liam to make sure it stayed that way.

d.a.m.n it all, Liam wasn't supposed to like her. He'd expected the usual human woman, sticks-up-their-a.s.ses, all of them, but there was something different about Kim Fraser. It wasn't just that she was small and compact, where s.h.i.+fter women were tall and willowy. He liked how her dark blue eyes regarded him without fear, liked the riot of black of curls that beckoned his fingers. She'd had the sense to leave her hair alone, not force it into some unnatural shape.

On the other hand, she tried to hide her sweetly curvaceous body under a stiff gray business suit, although her body had other ideas. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s wanted to burst out of the b.u.t.ton-up blouse, and the stiletto heels only enhanced wickedly s.e.xy legs.

No s.h.i.+fter woman would dress like she did. s.h.i.+fter women wore loose clothes they could quickly shed if they needed to change forms. Shorts and T-s.h.i.+rts were popular. So were gypsy skirts and sarongs in the summer.

Liam imagined this lady in a sarong. Her melon-firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s would fill out the top, and the skirt would bare her smooth thighs.

She'd be even prettier in a bikini, lolling around some rich man's pool, sipping a complicated drink. She was a lawyer--there was probably a boss in her firm who had already made her his.

Or perhaps she was using said boss to climb the success ladder. Humans did that all the time.

Either the b.a.s.t.a.r.d would break her heart, or she'd walk away happy with what she'd got out of it.

That's why we stay the h.e.l.l away from humans. Brian Smith had taken up with a human woman, and look where he was now.

So why did this female raise Liam's protective instincts? Why did she make him want to move closer, inside the radius of her body heat? She wouldn't like that; humans tried to stay a few feet apart from each other unless they couldn't help it. Even lovers might do nothing more than hold hands in public.

Liam had no business thinking about pa.s.sion and this woman in the same heartbeat.

Fergus's instructions had been to listen to Kim, sway her, then send her home. Not that Liam was in the habit of blindly obeying Fergus.

"So why do you want to help him, love?" he asked. "You're only defending him because you drew the short straw, am I right?"

"I'm the junior in the firm, so it was handed to me, yes. But the prosecutor's office and the police have done a s.h.i.+tty job with this case. Rights violations all over the place. But the courts won't dismiss it, no matter how much I argue. Everyone wants a s.h.i.+fter to go down, innocent or guilty."

"And why do you believe Brian didn't do it?"

"Why do you think?" Kim tapped her throat. "Because of these."

Liam resisted touching the strand of black and silver metal fused to his own neck, a small Celtic knot at the base of his throat. The Collars contained a tiny programmed chip enhanced by powerful Fae magic to keep s.h.i.+fters in check, though the humans didn't want to acknowledge the magic part. The Collar shot an electric charge into a s.h.i.+fter when his violent tendencies rose to the surface. If the s.h.i.+fter persisted, the next dose was one of debilitating pain. A s.h.i.+fter couldn't attack anyone if he was rolling around on the ground, writhing in agony.

Liam wasn't sure entirely how the Collars worked; he only knew that each became bonded to its wearer's skin and adapted to their animal form when they s.h.i.+fted. All s.h.i.+fters living in human communities were required to wear the Collar, which were unremovable once put on.

Refusing the Collar meant execution. If the s.h.i.+fter tried to escape, he or she was hunted down and killed.

"You know Brian couldn't have committed a violent crime," Kim was saying. "His Collar would have stopped him."

"Let me guess. Your police claim the Collar malfunctioned?"

"Yep. When I suggest having it tested, I'm greeted with all kinds of reasons it can't be. The Collar can't be removed, and anyway it would be too dangerous to have Brian Collarless if he could be. Also too dangerous to provoke him to violence and see if the Collar stops him.

Brian's been calm since he was brought in. Like he's given up." She looked glum. "I hate to see someone give up like that."

"You like the underdog?"

She smiled at him with red lips. "You could say that, Mr. Morrissey. Me and the underdog go back a long way."

Liam liked her mouth. He liked imagining it on his body, on certain parts of his anatomy in particular. He had no business thinking that, but the thoughts triggered a physical reaction below the belt.