Unleashed by Shadows (By Moonlight Book 10) (2 page)

Other than finishing his drink in the noisy dance club Crave, being seen where he needed to be seen, and then crawling back to the borrowed place he couldn’t really call home to lick his wounds, he’d done all he planned to do for one painfully long evening in the name of their testy relationship. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with the fact that he may have just screwed everything up with his swaggering over-confidence.

He could tell himself it wasn’t really his problem. These weren’t his people, their troubles not his own—at least not yet. He had no business scrapping his way up in unnatural underground fights, risking his life unnecessarily every time he strode out into that blood-soaked arena.

And no business enjoying the savage rush that surged with chants of his name.

Gunslinger! Gunslinger!

That’s not what he was inside. Not anymore.

The longer he stayed, the deeper he let his cousin push him into that persona, the harder it became to remind himself he was not the role he played for high stakes in the smelly sweatbox of New Orleans as Mick Terry, brawler, dock worker, performing shape-shifter for hire.

  But a debt was a debt. And in calling him on it, Silas MacCreedy had him by the balls in a relentless grip, and if he didn’t break free here, now, he never would.

Sighing reluctantly, Cale twisted to follow Silas’s glare. The scream of protest from abused ribs and shoulders fell away the second a distinctive scent teased up his nose. He straightened, senses quivering, intent gaze scanning the far side of the room to fix on the newcomers who had MacCreedy’s panties in a wad.

With long, aggressive strides, three tall strangers parted the packed club crowd the way they’d plow through enemies in battle, without hesitation or regard. Danger rolled off them like cold fog from the Mississippi after dark. From their harshly handsome looks, territorial red-blond hair, and the brilliance of hefty diamonds flashing in their ears, any Shifter with a sliver of knowledge about their kind knew exactly who they were.

Trouble in tight black leather motorcycle gear.

“What are they doing here?” Silas demanded.

“I don’t know.” Wondering the same spiked his alarm.

“If they mess this up for us—”

“Don’t worry,” Cale cut in, promising, “I’ll handle it.”

“Don’t draw any attention.” MacCreedy looked uneasily toward the bar where a white-blond man lounged unaware of the intruders. For the moment. “And don’t start anything! Just get them out of here.”

“Soul of discretion.”

He ignored Silas’s doubting scowl and started across the packed dancefloor, keeping an eye on the reddish blond heads bobbing above the crowd. Subconsciously, his step kicked up a notch to match the addictive techno beat of “Let It Rock”.

Don’t draw any attention.
What was he? Twelve years old again?

He’d almost reached the edge of the pulsing floor when sinewy arms snaked about his neck and a lush body pressed close to begin an enthusiastic grind. He tried to politely extricate himself but the club girl clung tight, positioning herself between him and where he needed to go. His preoccupied gaze never strayed to hers.

They spotted him, all stopping at once.

Don’t start anything!

A slow smile curved his lips. Subtlety wasn’t in his vocabulary.

After a few quick twirls, Cale spun his partner out and purposefully let go, forgetting her, his attention on the trio watching from the edge of the crowded floor. He moved solo to the intoxicating beat, flashy steps starting to draw notice in an expanding outward ripple. But his focus never left the stoic threesome until finally he sent a quick punch of movement toward the tallest of the group. His fingers curled rapidly. Beckoning.

The taunting dance challenge provoked a slow smile. Cale was joined on the floor, his movements shadowed with sleek precision through the next verse of the song, then both motioned to the oldest of the three while the youngest simply stared, jaw hanging.

The novelty of three fiercely gorgeous men stepping and swiveling in sync had the crowd circling to enjoy a performance that was part energetic boy band, part sizzling Magic Mike. They hadn’t practiced that shoulder-shaking, pelvis-rocking routine in over ten years, but their audience forgave the occasional misstep in favor of some serious eye candy. Colin, controlled, chiseled and powerful; Rico, a graphically enticing tease; and Cale, full of strong athletic grace. Three of the Twelve of the House of Terriot, princes used to commanding attention and holding it tightly in their magnetic grip.

As the onlookers cheered and the females waved cash, only one thing could have made the moment more perfect for the Terriots’s heartsick and lonesome new king. Until he turned to find the most beautiful vision possible blocking his path.

Cale froze. The noise, the music, the dance all fell away.

Black leather and spandex hugged her petite form, the contrast making winter-pale skin almost translucent, her dark eyes huge, and short bobbed hair fair as cornsilk. He wasn’t sure which distracted him first, the fiery heat of the diamond in one ear catching the strobing lights above or the slow part of her red-slicked lips as she whispered, “For the dance.”

He didn’t understand until he felt the warmth of her fingers brushing his abdomen as she pulled the front of his jeans away to tuck in several bills.

“A deposit,” she crooned, patting his crotch.

His grin broke wide.

Planting his palm firmly on her taut rump, he snatched her up close, letting her ride his suggestive moves as his brothers separated to do the same with eager partners. He forgot all about them as her body fit to his, and her breath stroked over the thundering pulse at his throat. All that had careened dangerously out of balance inside him for the past weeks steadied, until the music stopped and he was forced back into the reality of the moment.

What the hell was she doing in New Orleans?

She couldn’t be here with him.

Arm curled tightly about her waist in spite of that hard truth, Cale rejoined the trio to demand, “What were you thinking, bringing her here?”

“We didn’t bring her,” Rico clarified. “She brought us. It was go along for the ride, or let her come by herself. And we knew you’d hate that.” He smirked at his play on words. “Besides, why should you have all the fun when we’ve never been to New Orleans to let the good times roll.” He punctuated that with a revolution of lean hips.

Cale nodded at the moto gear, scowling. “You biked all the way?”

“Naw. Flew into Baton Rouge to stay under the radar then picked up bikes there. We’re not stupid. Just a little crazy.” Rico caught his brother’s head in the crook of his elbow and pulled him in for a near suffocating hug. His knuckles rubbed roughly over dyed black hair. “What’s with the new do?”

Cale shoved away, laughing. He couldn’t stay angry. He was too damned happy to see them. “I’m incognito as simple nobody, Mick Terry.”

“Does that mean we don’t have to take any shit off you?” Colin drawled, grinning as he clasped Cale behind the neck to give him a firm shake.

Covering the large hand with his own for a fond press, Cale groused, “No more than you usually do.” 

“What the hell was that?”

He turned to the youngest of his many half-brothers who all topped his modest 5’9” by almost a half foot. Kip still stared out at the dance floor in bewilderment.

Their sexy dance had debuted at a birthday party to help their oldest brother Wesley woo his first lady love into bed, but Cale just grinned instead of offering explanation. “Before your time, little man.” He pulled his youngest brother down to his shoulder and held him there for a long minute. He’d been lost in this world that was not his own, but now felt steady and strong again.

“You call that discreet?”

Silas’s dry remark cut through Cale’s enjoyment. As he pushed Kip away, the female crushed to his side squirmed free.  Watching her fling herself on MacCreedy with a happy cry still ripped like a gutting blade.

“Silas! It’s so good to see you!”

As her cousin lifted her off the floor in a fond embrace, Cale got a glimpse of ink where jacket and pants separated at her hip bone. A tattoo?

Frowning slightly, he took in the changes as a whole—the sassy cropped hair, bold makeup, aggressive manner, and choice of clothes. And tattoo! Dragging his more than willing brothers across four states without a word to him? What had come over this gentle female in the span of three weeks?

His eyes narrowed as Silas brushed her soft cheek with a kiss and said tenderly, “I didn’t know you were visiting.”

Her quick glance jumped to Cale as she snuggled into the tall Shifter’s shoulder. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“Of course I am. How did you find us here?” Caution edged that question.

“Nica told me. It’s not a problem, is it?” Her pretty features scrunched up anxiously.

“No, of course not,” he crooned, the sole of diplomacy. “It’s just that the timing’s kind of awkward right now. I can explain everything to you later. We need to be careful here. Things aren’t what they seem.”

“Mick, who are your friends?”

The soft intruding voice turned their attention toward a solidly built, somewhat flamboyantly dressed man whose full pursed lips contrasted sharply with an ice pale gaze. The way his palm caressed proprietarily along Cale’s shoulders had his brothers’ brows raising.

“These are some pals of mine from way back. We used to hang together when I was working in one of their hotels in Reno. Colin, Rico, Kip, this is Casper Lee. He’s gotten me a job here in New Orleans.”

Three heads nodded in acknowledgement, betraying no reaction other than curiosity. Lee’s stare roved incrementally over each of them in turn before he pronounced, “Why didn’t you mention that you had such impressive friends, Mick?”  His attention fixed on the blonde at Silas’s side. “And who is this enchanting young woman?”

Silas surrounded her with a protective arm. “Katy’s here to see me. We go way back, too. Don’t we, sweetheart?”

Playing along, she batted big eyes up at him, her hand stroking his chest lightly. “I hope me being here won’t cause any trouble for you.”

He smiled. “Not as long as you stay out of my lady’s reach and behave yourself.”

“I will,” she promised, tucking in close with a suggestive wriggle that knotted Cale’s belly tight.

Lee’s white blond head turned back to Cale. Though his tone remained pleasant, those chilly eyes filled with dark promise. “We need to talk about tonight, Mr. Terry, but it would be boorish of me to push our business in front of your pleasure.” That last purred with insinuation. “Tomorrow.”

Cale nodded, grateful for the reprieve in consequences he’d known wouldn’t last for long.

Smiling, letting an appreciative gaze linger over each of the attractive newcomers, Casper bid them a good evening and returned to his perch at the bar.

“I need a shower,” Rico muttered.

“That was uncomfortable,” Colin agreed.  “Who’s your new friend, Cale? Or should we call you Mick?”

Silas spoke up sharply. “Who he is, is none of your concern. This is none of your business.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed. “You’d be wrong about that, MacCreedy,” he growled. “What concerns our king, concerns us. And what we decide to do about it would be none of your business.”

Before the mood escalated beyond simple posturing, Cale put up his hands. “Back down. This isn’t the place. Where are you guys staying?”

Rico’s gaze roved over the target rich environment. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“Can I trust you not to get into any trouble?”

A wide grin. “Sure.”

Cale gripped his arm, pitching his voice low. “I’m serious, Frederick. We’re outsiders here. The truce between our clans is shaky. Don’t stir things up, and don’t mess with their females.”

“Not unless we’re invited.” He removed Cale’s hand from his arm with a crisp deliberation. “And we’re always invited. That goes with being a prince in the House of Terriot. Drinking, dancing, fighting, and fucking. It’s what we do best. About the only things we ever do these days. Since we can’t fight, we might as well indulge in the other three.”

“Diplomacy. Try practicing that.”

“That goes with the crown, bro. Not my bag or my baggage.” His notice strayed to a scantily dressed redhead who cast heavily made up eyes his way. “Excuse me. I think my room’s available.”

Shaking his head, Cale turned to Colin, the more reliable of the two, and pointed to their wide-eyed, barely out of his teens brother. “Keep a close eye on him.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Kip sputtered as Colin draped an arm across his shoulders and promised, “Like glue,” before leading him off into the temptation of a table full of college girls. Cale watched after them, smiling wistfully.

“Hey.”

He turned back to Silas, frowning because he still hadn’t released the petite blonde from his embrace.

“Head in the game.”

“It is,” he vowed. He studied the way MacCreedy’s fingers capped one slender shoulder.

“Hey!”

The sharp call had his glare snapping up.

“Take it outside before you give everything away.”

“I’m not giving anything away!”

Silas inclined his head toward his cousin, Kendra. When Cale’s gaze followed, his expression altered without him being aware of it until MacCreedy snorted, “Yeah, right. Outside. Remember who you’re supposed to be.”

Sucking an angry breath, Cale did as told, stalking through the posing mob and out into the crowded parking lot. The night air was only slightly cooler on his face as he paced along the walk, seething with frustration.

The son-of-a-bitch! How dare the bastard chase him from where he deserved to be! Where he needed to be.

The flash of his fierce glare fell on a quartet of motorcycles. Nice rides, lean and muscular. And the view only got better when the lithe little blonde from inside strode over to one of them and swung a slender leg over the seat, straddling the powerful bike between her thighs as she strapped on a helmet. His heart catapulted into his throat.

Cale gave a start as keys were pressed into his hand.