Bad Blood Leopard (Bad Blood Shifters Book 3) Read online

  Wait. Shit. A date. What would Sloan expect on a date? She didn’t know how to date. What if he wanted her to go back to his trailer and have sex with him?

  What if he didn’t?

  Breathe, Caitlyn. It’s just food. And conversation. And maybe sex.

  Oh, hell. What had she gotten herself into?

  The motel wasn’t nearly as nice as the first place she’d stayed—in fact, the neighborhood was crappy, there were rust marks in the bathtub and she’d found some seriously questionable stains on the bedspread.

  But it was cheap, and they took cash without asking to see her ID. Which was a good thing, considering she was using a fake name so Jared wouldn’t find her.

  She scanned the area before she got out of the car and let herself into her room. She couldn’t say she didn’t see anyone who looked suspicious—everyone in this part of town pretty much looked suspicious. But no one seemed to be paying attention to her.

  Once inside, she pulled her laptop out of her oversized purse. She was afraid to leave it in the room—if it got stolen, she’d lose everything.

  She opened it and pulled up the file Jared had sent her. She’d read through it half a dozen times, but that was when Sloan was still someone she’d only observed from a distance.

  Now she’d met him, and he hadn’t been at all like she expected.

  His eyes, though sad, held more openness and honesty than she’d thought they would. She was used to people who always hid who they were, and he wasn’t one of them.

  Or he was the best at it she’d ever seen.

  But the sweet, funny man who liked her happy dance and called her Rex just didn’t jibe with the cold-blooded mercenary described in Jared’s report.

  She read through it again, slowly.

  Sloan had been part of a small Shifter Special Ops team on a mission in Afghanistan, four years ago. He was the sniper and weapons specialist. Then there was a wolf named Andrew Korchak, and Sloan’s handler, an intelligence agent named Charlie Racine, who was an owl—a “spook.” And a local woman, known only as Kayisha.

  According to the report, their mission was to uncover a clandestine group smuggling ancient magical artifacts out of Afghanistan. There was a rumor of a lost dragon hoard, which, if true, could be worth tens of millions to the wrong people. Not to mention putting a dangerous amount of magical power in their hands. A few isolated pieces had turned up, and the team was trying to trace the source.

  Kayisha claimed that the source of the artifacts was in an isolated village. She’d shown the team an artifact as proof, and had offered to guide them to the village, using the first artifact—which she had insisted on carrying herself—to gain the smugglers’ confidence.

  But they’d been betrayed. Someone had told a local warlord with a hatred of magic about the village, and he’d brought his personal army to blow it into a giant crater.

  He’d pretty much succeeded. The village was destroyed, the villagers killed or scattered, and the secret to the hoard lost—if there had ever been a hoard at all.

  Sloan’s team had gone dark.

  When the intelligence teams moved in, they found Kayisha’s body in the rubble, throat slit, with Sloan’s army-issue Ka-Bar knife underneath her. The artifact was gone. Charlie Racine had been killed in the bombing. Sloan and Korchak had disappeared.

  Charlie’s mission log told a grim story. Sloan had seduced Kayisha, possibly with the intent to gain possession of the artifact. The mission was too important to abort, but he was keeping a watchful eye on the situation and planning on neutralizing Sloan as soon as they determined whether Kayisha’s contact was legit and learned the location of the hoard. Once she was out of play, he would take Sloan down.

  He hadn’t succeeded. Sloan had killed Kayisha, taken the artifact, and gone AWOL. Korchak had either been in on the plan and vanished with him, or been blown to bits in the raid on the village. He’d never showed up, dead or alive.

  Caitlyn found it impossible to reconcile this story of greed and betrayal with the man she’d just met—the man she’d watched all these weeks.

  The man who was haunted by a ghost.

  If he’d ever had a priceless artifact, he hadn’t cashed in on it. Not if he was a carpenter’s apprentice in the Bad Blood Crew.

  Something else nagged at her as she read over the account of the attack on the village and Kayisha’s death, but at first she couldn’t figure out what it was.

  She read it again, and finally it hit her. It wasn’t something in the report that was bothering her. It was something Sloan said.

  Kneeling on the edge of the ravine, he’d shouted to the ghost, “I tried to save you.” She could still hear the broken tone of his voice, the desperate ring of truth.

  He’d been frustrated and bewildered, honestly sounding like he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her anger and vengeance.

  Had his PTSD given him delusions? Was his guilt so strong he was lying to himself about what he’d done?

  She tapped the computer keyboard thoughtfully with her fingers. Or was it this report that was the lie? If it was, who was lying? And why?

  What had really happened that day in the desert?

  Chapter 7

  The next day at five after five, Caitlyn was sitting in the back office at Bearcat Construction, across the desk from the Bad Blood alpha, Flynn.

  He was a giant of a man, with tangled black dreadlocks, eyes the color of dark chocolate, and enough alpha presence to take your breath away, especially in a small room.

  She’d always seen Flynn from a distance, with her hiding in the trees. She hadn’t realized quite how huge he was. Or how dominant.

  At least he was wearing pants.

  He was even wearing a t-shirt, probably because an interview was a semi-formal occasion. Caitlyn was wearing dark blue jeans and a t-shirt, because this was a construction company. And a linen jacket, because, you know, semi-formal.

  And she was going out to dinner afterwards. If Flynn didn’t pounce on her and munch her down for an appetizer.

  “Jesus fuck, you look like a scared bunny,” he said.

  Awesome. She was obviously acing this so far. She had to do better.

  He riffled through her application papers, didn’t find what he wanted, and sighed. “I fucking hate interviews,” he muttered.

  Don’t let Flynn intimidate you, Sloan had told her.

  “Me too,” Caitlyn heard herself say. Shit. Where had that come from?

  Flynn snorted, but she thought she saw one corner of his mouth tilt up ever so slightly.

  Progress.

  “At least you have a little backbone, bunny. What kind of shifter are you really?” He fixed that dark gaze on her.

  Shit. “You can’t ask me that,” she said. “Legally, I mean.”

  He gave her a not-very-friendly grin. “I can ask you whatever the fuck I want,” he said. “Law doesn’t say I can’t ask. Only that you don’t have to answer.”

  He waited.

  Damn, he was dominant. He wasn’t even her alpha, and he was making her want to do what he said without even half trying.

  “Flyer,” she said. No way was she telling him she was an owl, let alone a snowy. Everybody knew the majority of snowies were spooks. Flynn the paranoid would never hire her if he knew what she was.

  He waited some more, and when she just raised her eyebrows at him, he gave a huff that almost sounded like respect. “Okay. Well, we’ve got a bunch of cats in the crew. If you’re a bird, try not to get eaten.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she said. Unless it’s Sloan who wants to eat me…

  Eek. Stop that. Pay attention!

  He shuffled through her application again. “So, no professional experience, but you know your way around a toolbox?”

  “I used to help my dad all the time. He had his own shop, as a hobby, and he renovated our house and built a lot of furniture.”

  Flynn nodded. “Good. What about sex?”

  “Um, what?” Coul
d he read her mind, about that getting eaten thing? Because that would be scary, and totally humiliating. She felt a blush rising up her cheeks.

  “Oh, shit, a shy one.” Flynn let his head drop back in dramatic frustration, and then fixed his gaze on her again.

  “Okay, here’s the deal. That thing that humans are into, about no crude sexual comments in the workplace and no hostile work environments? That ain’t happening here. Because my crew are all half-baked lunatics and brawlers. Plus, I have no control over the shit that comes out of Xander’s mouth, and most of it is sexual.” He leaned back in his chair. “Oh, and sometimes I forget to wear pants.”

  He was testing her. Luckily, from her weeks of spook activity, she already knew about the inappropriate sexual references. And the pantslessness.

  But why was he testing her? Xander was the type to fuck with her just for the hell of it, but Flynn wasn’t.

  She looked into his eyes, dark and intelligent. He might be a foul-mouthed nudist with no social skills, but he was a formidable alpha who didn’t do anything without a reason.

  He’s protecting them, she realized. He’s not going to let anyone near them who’s going to hassle them for who they are, or make them feel less than.

  And he didn’t want to deal with screaming females complaining about sexual harassment, probably.

  Finally she asked innocently, “You forget the pants here at the office, you mean?”

  That earned her a half-grin. “Mostly at home,” he said. “But I’ve got the crew working out at the territory sometimes, so you might be assigned out there.”

  She nodded, straight-faced. “If I see you without pants here, I’ll remind you to put some on.”

  That got a full grin. “I like you, bunny. You might do after all.”

  “So, it’s okay that I don’t have any real construction experience?” she asked.

  “Sweetheart, I’m lucky you’ve got any at all. You should see Sloan and Xander. And unless you cut off any vital body parts, I’m not worried about you hurting yourself. Not with shifter healing.” He fixed her with a glare. “Don’t cut off any body parts.”

  “I’ll try not to,” she said. “I hate when that happens.”

  He snorted.

  “So… am I hired?” It couldn’t be this easy.

  He rolled his eyes. “I am so desperate for people who can swing a hammer without hitting their fucking thumb, I was about to start hiring humans. Which would be fine on the renovation field crew, probably, but not here in the shop or back at home. Things are still a little volatile there. Can you handle that?”

  She shrugged, trying to look careless and badass. “Flyer,” she reminded him. “I can get out of the way.”

  “Then yeah,” he said. “You’re hired. If you suck, I can always fire you again.”

  Even though Flynn’s final comment was less than encouraging, Caitlyn emerged from his office with a feeling of elation and a sort of stunned disbelief.

  She had a job. A real job, that she’d gotten on her own, not one the Council of Owls had decided to give her. She’d have her own money, and she could decide where she wanted to live and what she wanted to do with her free time.

  It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

  She followed Flynn into the office, instinctively looking for Sloan. He was perched on the table where the sample books were laid out, swinging his legs idly, talking to Xander. Tank was there, too, leaning on Lissa’s desk, where she was showing him something on the computer.

  Sloan looked up as soon as Caitlyn walked into the room, his eyebrows raised in a question. She gave him a thumbs-up, and he nodded. He balled his fists and moved his upper body slightly in a tiny dance, mouthing, Go Caitlyn. Go Caitlyn.

  She grinned back.

  Xander turned slowly, raising his head like an animal pricking its ears up, and gazed at her.

  His eyes were dark and fathomless, and a little bit scary. He looked from her, to Sloan, and back to her, his face unreadable.

  “Well?” Lissa said.

  “I hired her,” Flynn rumbled from behind her. “What the fuck, did you think I was going to hold out for the Property Brothers? All she has to do is be able to swing a hammer and put up with all your shit. Some of you morons haven’t even mastered the hammer part yet.”

  “Hey,” Xander said. “I resemble that remark.”

  Flynn snorted. “So everybody blow kisses to the new girl, and then let’s get this show on the road. I’ve been craving beef all day.”

  “Right,” Sloan said. “You ready?” he asked Caitlyn.

  Everyone went silent, staring at her. Sloan looked slowly around the room. “What?” he said. “I asked Caitlyn to go to the restaurant opening with me.”

  Xander’s eyes narrowed. “With you? Like a date?”

  “How come you didn’t tell us?” Tank asked.

  “Um, because I knew you’d all look at me the way you’re looking at me right now? Although, I did hope that if I waited to tell you until Caitlyn was actually here in the room, you wouldn’t make it awkward.”

  “Seriously?” Lissa said. “Have you met us?”

  Caitlyn had to grin at that. It felt weird, though, having everyone staring at her. It seemed like Sloan didn’t date much.

  Sloan sighed and tucked her arm through his. “Sorry,” he said. “Bad Bloods. No social skills.”

  Lissa came forward and took Caitlyn’s other arm. “He’s right,” she said. “But we’re a hell of a lot of fun. Stick with me, girl, and I’ll tell you all the dirt on Sloan. This one time…”

  And she led Caitlyn out of the room, still talking.

  Chapter 8

  For someone who hadn’t had a date in longer than he cared to remember, Sloan didn’t think he did too badly—at least for the first part of the evening.

  Lissa managed to run interference between Caitlyn and Xander—who was way more upset about this than Sloan had thought he’d be.

  That gave him a guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach. After their talk the other day, he should have known better than to ask a woman on a date without at least giving Xander a heads-up.

  It wasn’t like Caitlyn was going to be his mate or anything, but he should probably have told that to Xander. She was just a pretty girl, who he was a little bit attracted to, who was going to work with the crew, and he wanted to make her feel welcome.

  Lick her all over, his cat said.

  Fuck.

  That was not happening—but he couldn’t explain things to Xander now. So he shelved the Xander problem and made sure Caitlyn was having a good time: finding her plenty to eat and people to talk to (who weren’t homicidal panthers), and refilling her glass of sangria whenever she needed it. He tried to be amusing, because he loved making her laugh and seeing her eyes sparkle.

  The restaurant was filled to capacity, and the crew had been seated at a huge round table right next to the kitchen door. Jasmin and Brody darted in and out, bringing them amazing specialty dishes and chatting for a minute before a yell from the kitchen would send one or the other of them dashing back in to deal with the latest crisis. Jasmin was happily berating her kitchen staff, and Brody was grinning from ear to ear.

  Sloan knew Brody was happy that Jasmin was happy. Cooking was her passion, and taking over the daily management of the restaurant from Brody’s friend Toni was a dream come true for her.

  Sloan tried not to envy them, but when he looked at Caitlyn making sexy yummy noises over a plateful of prime South American cuisine, or laughing at something Lissa said, he got a pang in his chest.

  A mate is the last thing you need, he reminded himself. You can’t even take care of yourself, and now you let your best friend down by making him feel like he’s going to have to leave the crew, for fuck’s sake. How the hell could you take care of a mate?

  As the meal wound down, Sloan’s phone started vibrating. Not his regular phone—the burn phone he’d bought a couple of days ago.

  Ah, hell. Not now. />
  After that last encounter with Kayisha, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something besides a ghost was coming back to haunt him. He’d put out a couple of feelers to old “friends” from his special ops days. People who skirted the wrong side of the law—but who knew things that might be useful.

  If he didn’t get back to them right away, he might not get another chance.

  Sloan touched Caitlyn on the arm. “You okay here for a few minutes? I need to go return a phone call. It’s kind of urgent. Sorry.”

  She nodded vigorously. “Sure. Lissa and I are having fun.”

  Her eyes looked a little glassy, and he wondered how much sangria she’d actually had. It took a lot to get most shifters drunk; the same metabolism that accelerated their healing burned alcohol and drugs from their systems as well, unless the drugs were specially formulated for shifter physiology.

  Stop worrying, he told himself. The crew will look after her.

  “Okay. Back in a few.”

  Caitlyn watched Sloan walk away, her vision a bit fuzzy at the edges. He was very pretty. In a muscly man sort of way. His eyes were pretty, and his butt was very very pretty inside his jeans. And outside his jeans.

  Maybe she should tell him he had a pretty butt. She turned to Lissa. “Do you think I should tell Sloan he has a pretty butt?”

  Lissa bit her lips. “Better take it easy on him, girl. He hasn’t been ridden much in a while, if you know what I mean.”

  She didn’t know what Lissa meant. Was that a sex thing? Her brain felt as fuzzy as her eyes.

  Lissa went to the ladies’ room, and Caitlyn had some more sangria. It was delicious.

  Xander plopped down beside her in Lissa’s chair.

  “Okay, I need to lay out the rules,” he said. He took a tiny notebook out of his pocket, leaned his elbows on the table, and paged through it.

  Caitlyn stared at him. “What rules?”

  Xander ignored her, still leafing through his notebook. “Here, I got it. Bro time at least twice a week. Possibly more during football season.”

  “Excuse me?”