Chapter Three

NASH

The bartender laughed off the question.

“Trouble? Nah. Those guys wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Superficially, he had a point. The youngest of the gang were in their late fifties. The rest were older, with gray hair worn long to compensate for the bald spots. Most were big and broad-chested, but a little creaky swinging their legs over their bikes.

But those guys didn’t worry me. It was their leader I had my eye on.

Top Dog sauntered in like he owned the place. A fit, tough, sixtysomething, leather-clad guy with a big old handlebar mustache to complete the Hells Angels look. He took in the crowd with one dismissive fly-by, then lit up on spotting…Erin?

I did a double take, because she really didn’t seem like a biker-babe type.

But Erin it was, and my dragon immediately went on high alert.

If that guy so much as bothers her…

Then I gaped. Not only did he point to her like an old bag he’d come back to claim, but Erin jumped up with a happy squeak. When they met two steps away from her table, the big guy picked her up, twirled her around, and puckered up for a kiss.

Gross, my dragon rumbled.

I looked away just in time, deeply disappointed. She didn’t seem the type to hook up with a motorcycle dude twice her age. But, hey. There was no telling with some people.

Still, my stomach roiled, and something like jealousy slugged through my veins.

“Hey, baby,” he announced.

I scowled. Baby? She was a grown woman. And yet she fawned all over the guy — one of those silver-fox types women swooned over.

Every head in the place followed Top Dog, then jumped away at his glare of warning. The rest of his gang filed in, flooding the place.

“Mike! Ted! Bones!” Erin and her sisters cheered at each of them.

Bones? Hadn’t they outgrown dumb nicknames like that?

I swiveled slightly, studying Top Dog’s wide shoulders from the back. Or rather, studying the space around them. Was it shimmering?

I leaned this way and that, but it was impossible to tell. Finally, I strolled toward the restroom to check from a different angle.

My breath caught. The space around his shoulders was definitely shimmering.

I sniffed the air. The man had the commanding presence of a shifter but not the scent of one. On the other hand, he didn’t lack any odor at all, which would have been really bad news. The only beings with no scent — or, at most, the faint smell of ammonia — were vampires.

So, he wasn’t a shifter or a vampire. But definitely not human.

Warlock, my dragon growled.

I coughed to cover the sound.

Clearly, Erin had no idea, because she’d cuddled up close and was hooting along with his jokes.

I stared at her, a piercing stare I wanted her to notice. When she finally did, I motioned to the restroom as subtly as I could. Which wasn’t all too subtle, because she blinked in confusion. Then her eyes hardened, and she looked away. Like I was some weirdo and not one of the good guys.

I let enough of my dragon creep into my stare — powerful, insistent — to make her look again.

Restroom. Now. I mouthed the words and jerked a finger to the rear hallway.

It was a wonder half the place didn’t holler to her, He wants to meet you by the restrooms right now. But don’t let that biker dude you’re with notice!

Erin furrowed her brow, considering her options.

Definitely not all human, I decided, because the average human didn’t hesitate when ordered to move by a dragon.

Please, I telegraphed, sliding off my seat.

Top Dog started to turn, following her gaze. I darted down the back hallway, then waited, praying she would follow. Sulfur laced the air as my dragon fought closer to the surface.

A moment later, Erin stormed around the corner, then crossed her arms.

“What the hell do you want?”

I stepped back. The woman had some serious presence when she was mad. And damn, was she mad.

After checking to make sure Top Dog hadn’t followed us, I hustled her through the nearest door, then held it shut behind us.

Her hands shot up in an I can break bricks karate pose. “One more move, and you’ll regret it.”

I stuck up my free hand. “I just need to warn you.”

She huffed. “In the men’s toilet?”

I looked around. Oops. A good thing the urinals weren’t occupied. At least there was that.

But I wasn’t off to a good start, and any minute now, Top Dog might be onto us.

“Not a good choice,” I admitted, then dropped my voice. “That man out there. The one at your table…”

Her eyes narrowed.

“The biker dude,” I went on.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that man at my table.”

I made a face. Okay, okay. He was the only man at her table.

“You need to stay away from him. He’s trouble.”

“Says the man keeping me captive in a restroom.” She wrinkled her nose. “God, it smells in here. Can men not aim?”

It did smell, but I was not about to let myself get distracted by the comment…or the lavender scent of her hair or those luminous green eyes. Or were they blue?

Either way, my insides went all warm, and my dragon hummed dreamily. One green, one blue .

Little alarms went off in my mind, but I’d figure out why later. Right now, I had to tip her off about a warlock without sounding like a lunatic.

This was the tricky part to my job. Well, my former job, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to keep humans from tangling with malicious supernaturals without revealing too much.

And, Lord. If humans had truly evolved to the top of the food chain, that had more to do with opposable digits than brains, because they rarely did what was best for them — especially in matters of the heart.

“I mean it. He’s trouble.”

Her arms went from Bruce Lee to crossed tightly over her chest. “Obviously. Was it the tattoos or motorcycle that tipped you off?”

Any minute now, we’d need a mop for that pool of sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

I shook my head. “Believe me. He’s pure trouble.”

“Aha. And you know this because…?”

If I could only tell it straight. Because I’m a dragon shifter and can scent his kind. Because I did a year of top-secret FBI-style training in identifying and containing supernaturals, and I aced the “witches and warlocks” part.

My gut roiled at the part of training I hadn’t aced, but she didn’t need to know about that.

“Because I know his type. I know his tactics.”

Her laugh rose to the ceiling. “Let me guess. He sneaks into out-of-the-way bars and corrupts young, na?ve women like me.” She leaned in and continued in a conspiracy-theory tone. “Before you know it, he’ll have his dirty boots on the table and a sweet young thing in his lap while he plots his next crime. A hit-and-run, maybe, or just running his chopper in circles through some old lady’s rose garden. Then he’ll leave town without paying the bills and go on to wreak havoc elsewhere. That type?”

Her voice rose in a damning crescendo, making me blink. Wow. Why was she so defensive?

And, hell. She wasn’t done yet.

“And of course, we innocent young women have no chance against his type. We desperately need to be rescued by complete strangers because we’re incapable of coherent thought — and certainly not capable of taking care of ourselves.”

Boy, she really had a chip on her shoulder.

Her eyes — blue? green? — blazed. “Let me set you straight. I am not that woman. I did not ask for your advice. I do not need your advice.” She stuck a finger in the middle of my chest, puncturing — er, punctuating — every word. “If I need your help or advice, I’ll ask. Until then, stuff it.”

She paused for a deep breath, then hammered my chest one more time. “And if you follow me out of this bathroom, I swear, your ego is not the only thing that will suffer.”

A twinge went through my groin, and I turned sideways, just in case.

She slammed the door open and stomped away, nearly bowling over a trucker-type in a John Deere cap.

The guy stared at her, then me.

I shook my head wearily. “Don’t ask.”

He shot me one of those I’m with you, brother looks on his way to the urinal.

If Erin were still there, I was sure she would mutter, Make sure you aim .

I left. Quickly. At the corner of the hallway, I paused. Erin made a beeline back to her table — and the warlock. She sidled up to him and looped an arm defiantly over his shoulders.

My dragon sighed. Maybe the warlock will be the one who bit off more than he can chew.

I could only hope.

For a few minutes, I stood at the bar, warring with myself. Then I downed the rest of my drink and threw down a few bills. I headed to the door, reminding myself I was a civilian now. It wasn’t my job to get involved.

But, hell. Something in me begged to be involved, even though it would be no use.

Outside, I scowled at the motorcycles crowding the no-parking zone directly in front of the bar.

Any warlock was suspicious as hell, but unlike vampires, they rarely hurt their victims. They simply used their magic to enthrall and seduce. In that sense, they weren’t too different from humans with power or celebrity appeal, like CEOs or sports stars. Heck, many CEOs and sports stars were warlocks or relics. Either way, lots of women fell for those types. But unless that warlock was up to something much sneakier, I had no grounds to interfere.

I glanced back, fighting like a dog on the leash of my own determination. Then I growled at myself. Was I getting soft? Or were the last couple of listless, depressing months getting to me?

Maybe she’s getting to you, my dragon murmured.

I spotted Erin through the window, throwing her head back with a laugh. Her glossy hair cascaded through the air, reflecting the firelight.

My heart beat a little faster, and my breath hitched.

Then I scowled and walked on, cursing every motorcycle in my way. Finally, I slid into my truck and started the engine with a roar, followed by the heating. Damn, was it cold. It didn’t take long for the lights of town to fade behind me, leaving only the twin beams of my headlights to cut through the crisp night.

I drove, trying to think of anything but Erin. Cursing, because wasn’t Arizona supposed to be warm? And, crap. How early the next morning was I supposed to be at my new job?

Things that didn’t matter flitted in and out of my mind, but one thing refused to leave. The woman I wasn’t interested in. Or so I kept telling myself.