“Charley!” Davey cried, a second before something collided with the other side of my office door.
Vance spun around and pulled it open to reveal my sister, her blue eyes wide. “Something’s going down outside. Some new guy confronted Nolan Blake and they’re fighting, out in the front parking lot. Tucker’s trying to break it up, but—”
Vance pushed past her on his way out the door.
“Shit,” Austin Graham swore, already on his feet to follow.
I grabbed the rifle mounted on the wall behind my desk and ran after them.
My zone. My rules. Anyone who doubted that was welcome to fuck around and find out.
TWO
Iraced through the bar, my rifle aimed at the floor. The dining room was eerily deserted, plates and glasses sitting abandoned on every table, but through the grimy front windows, I could see a crowd of regulars with their backs to the building, gathered around the fight like kids on a playground. And I could still hear shouting.
“Hey!” Vance roared as he burst through the front door ahead of me. “Break it up! Now!” If he’d been in cat form, that would have worked. He had one of the most impressively deep and loud roars I’d ever heard. It echoed with power and authority.
But there was no time for either of us to shift, and his human voice, strong though it was, made little impression beyond a few of the strays at the back of the crowd. Those few turned to make way for him, and Vance, in turn, opened a path for me.
Instead of yelling, I planted my feet wide apart and fired my rifle into the air, from the middle of the crowd.
The boom echoed, and shocked silence descended all around me. Everyone turned to stare, many of them covering very sensitive werecat ears.
Guns wereheavilyfrowned upon in the majority of the shifter world. It was considered much more noble to solve inter-cat squabbles with claws and canines. But this was Tennessee, and I didn’t have an air-horn, so…
“Okay, that’s enough!” My gaze narrowed on the stranger, our second in a day. Behind him, Doug Meyers was gesturing frantically at me to indicate that this was the source of the second scent he’d caught in the woods.
Which I’d figured out for myself.
Like Austin Graham, this second stranger was tall and broadly built, but he had deep brown eyes and only a day’s chin stubble, dark enough to stand out starkly, even against deeply tanned skin. He wore a casual red wool button-up and rubber-soled waterproof hiking boots.
But even though he’d started this, the man in the red shirt wasn’t my immediate concern.
“Holy shit!” a female voice whispered from my left. “Holyshit! I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. Swear to god, their fists blurred in the air.”
“That was a fucking brawl!” her friend—a skinny woman in glittery pink heels—added.
Great.
“Davey, pour these ladies each a drink on the house,” I said, and my sister nodded. I watched, silently imposing calm and quiet upon the crowd as Davey led the human women back into the bar.
As soon as the door closed behind them, I turned to the man who’d started all this, only to find Austin Graham at his side, clearly furious. “What the hell are you doing? This wasn’t the plan,” he growled.
“Fuck the plan,” his friend—clearly—in the red shirt snapped. “I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”
“You two.” My gaze flicked between them. “This is Vance. You donotwant to fuck with him. Follow him to my office and wait for me there.”
“Who the hell are—” Red Wool demanded, but I cut him off, my rifle still aimed at the sky.
“You might notice that you’re outnumbered.” I gestured with my free arm at two dozen mostly large shifters ready to back me up in defense of their community.
Strangers were welcome. Aggressors were not.
Soft growls echoed from all around me, aimed at them both.
“Come on, Bishop,” Austin mumbled. Then he turned a fierce glare on Nolan Blake as he passed, dragging his friend along. “We’re not done with you,” he growled.
Tucker snarled. “That’s for Charley to decide.”
