Breaking Fate: Book Three: Black Claw Ranch Page 3

  Lorne glanced over his shoulder. No sign of Ian, but he had to be near.

  With a growl, he wrenched himself free of his bear’s cement-like grip over his body. Another time, place, life, and he’d have sauntered over and dipped the brim of his hat. He wanted to hear her voice and feel her lips curve against his.

  He wanted to punch fate in the dick. Whatever her name, however she held his bear’s attention, he couldn’t get close. To her, or to anyone. He wouldn’t put anyone else in the line of danger. His family, his problem.

  He was a dead man. Running only postponed the inevitable.

  He wouldn’t drag her down with him.

  Chapter 4

  Sloan glared at the dark clouds rolling her way. She cocked her head and listened for the muffled roar of an ATV, but she didn’t have shifter senses and the last of the sound had faded almost an hour ago when her partner, August Snow, suggested they split up and take separate routes while patrolling the edge of enclave territory.

  She was being hazed, and she knew it. Newbies on the team were always treated to something. Prank calls from Seymour Butts or messages to call back Mr. Lion at the local zoo were innocent compared to being shoved onto patrol and abandoned. She should have known something was up from the very start. She’d gone weeks without any significant work, and now they wanted her out on patrol? Only thing to do was grin and bear it.

  Hah. Bear it. Bearden. Bears all around.

  Her GPS chirped at her, but the signal didn’t give her anything of use. The tiny dot that indicated her position bounced back and forth over the area. She bet her partner knew that, too, and didn’t mention it on purpose.

  Grumbling to herself, Sloan sank back into her seat and urged the ATV forward. Best to get on with finding her way back to the office. Good lord, she wanted to figure it out and shove it in their faces. She might be human, but she wasn’t incapable.

  She eyed the mountains behind her. Bearden was that direction, she knew. The land ahead of her would take her back to the field office. But where exactly, what angle she needed to take, she had little idea. She wasn’t a tracker. She’d grown up and worked in cities all her life. Without street signs or skyscraper landmarks, she relied purely on guesswork.

  Fucking hazing.

  At least the scenery was a nice change from big buildings and noisy traffic. More peaceful, too. Hills rolled in every direction, thick with summer growth of grass and wildflowers where they hadn’t been chomped down by hungry cattle. The mountains were sharp and jagged and eerily beautiful. Even the looming dark clouds clashing against the bright blue of the summer day were a sight to behold.

  She turned the ATV back toward the field office. Or at least, what she hoped would be close enough for her to find her way. She wasn’t ready to give up and radio in for directions. They wanted to wave their dicks around and put her in her place, fine. She’d prove her worth.

  Sloan resigned herself to a thorough soaking when the first fat raindrop landed on her arm and she was no closer to finding shelter. Even pushing the ATV to its maximum speed didn’t outrun the storm. Wisps of hair soon clung to her face and neck, her shirt and pants were soaked, and the wind cut right through to chill her skin.

  She slowed as she neared a house she definitely hadn’t passed before. She’d ridden too far, then. Shit.

  But... Sloan chewed her lip. There was a roof, even if it tilted a little too far to one side. Four walls, though they looked marred by long gouges in the wood. The rundown house was better than staying out in the rain. She could wait it out. Summer storms never lasted long.

  She zipped closer and stopped when she found the fence peeled back. A tangle of barbed wire curled near some fence posts like the work had been abandoned. Caught on a spike was a tuft of fur. Large paw prints marred the earth on both sides of the fence.

  Sloan hesitated. Shifters were territorial. They clumped up like animals in the wild and didn’t take kindly to surprises. Her uniform, too, wasn’t a welcome sight by many because of dirty cops like Jimmy. She wanted to do her part to fix that image, but making a stand in the middle of nowhere wasn’t the place to do it.

  A shiver ran down her spine. Sloan couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched and hunted. By those with animals under their skins, or her former partner and the rest of his sick little cabal, she didn’t know. Stupid, but it fueled the growing pit in her stomach.

  Then the storm broke with a vengeance and so did her patience.

  “Motherfuckers!” she yelled at the unseen watchers.

  She could imagine how the conversation went down in the break room. So funny, stranding the human out on the range. Hilarious, to do it with a storm brewing. Let’s see how soon she cries for mercy and leaves for a unit filled with her own kind.

  Too bad for them. She wasn’t one to give up easily. “I’m not running away! There’s nowhere else for me to go, so get used to me! Assholes!”

  Movement near the house caught her eye and she whipped her head to the side. The wind picked up at that moment, taking the man’s hat right off his head. It tumbled past her, end over end, into the distance.

  He charged at her, waving his arms and shouting incomprehensible words. Sloan cut the engine and dropped her hand to her service weapon. He didn’t miss a single step.

  She’d seen him before, briefly. Those dark eyes bored into her with the same intensity a few nights ago. And that hair? Looked even sexier when wet and plastered against his head.

  He tore through the hole in the fence and tugged her off the ATV. “What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of all this?” he growled.

  Sloan struggled, but there was no pulling away from him. Digging in her feet only resulted in him dragging her a few steps until she stumbled back to a walk.

  Dread filled her. Shifter, of course. And she was overpowered within seconds. She’d never doubted her ability to take care of herself until that moment. Close calls, run-ins with suspects, she’d fought hard and knew she stood a chance. The dark-haired cowboy ruined that notion in an instant.

  She hated how her skin seemed to bloom with warmth where his hand connected.

  He rounded the ramshackle home and started toward a dark opening at the side.

  She finally yanked herself free of his grasp. “I’m not going down there.”

  “Then have fun dealing with the tornado that got spotted a couple miles from here.” He jerked his chin down the dark stairs. “In.”

  Sloan wrestled with the idea of never seeing the light of day again after being locked in some cowboy’s murder shack and the fine hairs lifting all over her body. She wanted to trust the man still peering at her with eyes hot enough to set her on fire.

  She took a cautious first step, followed by another. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the low light. The cellar was cool and, most importantly, dry.

  She did not jump when the doors to the outside slammed shut.

  Air buffeted her as the cowboy swept past. He clicked something, then a lantern filled the space with soft light and shadows.

  “You said something about a tornado?”

  He grunted and rummaged through a bag on the ground.

  “Aren’t there supposed to be alarms or something to warn people?”

  “We’re not living in a movie, sweetheart.” A flicker of a smile graced his lips. “The mountains usually break up the worst storms. Tornados aren’t common enough around here to call for any sirens.”

  Good to know. She stashed the information away to turn over at another time.

  He tossed her a bundle that turned out to be a towel, an oversized shirt, and sweatpants. “You should change out of those wet clothes. Don’t you humans catch cold from a little water, or something?”

  Sloan narrowed her eyes, but her retort died on her lips.

  Oh, holy hell. He whipped off his shirt to reveal an expanse of muscles underneath. His hips even had those carved lines that made smart girls go stupid over a man. Sloan worked to swallow because she wasn’t i
mmune to them in the slightest.

  The hot cowboy was even hotter than she imagined. She wanted to lick a line down each of those indentations, straight to whatever he was hiding underneath.

  She spun around when his hands went to his jeans. “Is there anywhere else you could do that?”

  His huffed a laugh. “Look around, sweetheart. Does this cellar look like a mansion?”

  Clothes rustled behind her, then dropped in a thick, wet splat on the floor. Her eyes bounced from one corner of the wall in front of her to the other. She would not turn around. She would not peek over her shoulder. Perving out on the man was inappropriate. She mentally smacked her hands in admonishment. “Is this your place?”

  “You always ask this many questions?”

  Sloan wrapped the towel around her shoulders. She wouldn’t change out of uniform in front of him, but she was grateful for the extra layer and to wipe her face and arms. “Nature of the job. You always this elusive?”

  “Nature of the job. You can turn around now.”

  He’d pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and shirt. They stretched nicely over his ass and back as he bent to shake out and drape his wet clothes over a plastic basin sink.

  She shook the dirty thoughts out of her head as a shiver worked down her spine. The cooler air and soaked clothes, she told herself. “And what job is that, exactly?”

  He touched his finger to an imaginary hat. “Cattle rancher. Occasional tour guide. Currently, hospitality manager for the You’re Welcome Corral.”

  “I’ll pass on these.” She tossed the shirt and sweats into the bag on the floor. “Thanks for the towel.”

  Quiet stretched between them as his eyes roved down her body. Heat spread through her limbs under his gaze. The air around him seemed almost alive with electricity when he returned gold eyes to her face.

  Wild. He had a wild animal under his skin. She couldn’t forget that he was part man, part animal, and potentially dangerous as both.

  No, not dangerous. At least, not in the physical harm sense of the word. Something about him made her immediately reject the idea. Gut instinct. Maybe something in his eyes, unnatural as they were.

  But a dangerous temptation? Yeah, he had her attention.

  “My alpha’s folks bought the land with this already on it,” he explained quietly. The answer to her previous question felt like a concession, like he’d judged her and found her worthy of the knowledge. “They lived here while the main house was being built up. I’m just doing some repairs. I’d offer you a drink, but I didn’t grab anything but my bag when I rushed down here.”

  “Tornado, you said.”

  As if summoned by her stated question, the wind picked up in a howl. The entire home overhead creaked and moaned against the angry weather.

  He cocked his head to the side at a noise she didn’t catch. At first. Seconds later, boots thudded down the steps and raised dust in the air.

  “Lorne?” a second man growled. “You got that idiot on the ATV?”

  Sloan bristled at the words. She didn’t have the bright idea to go out with dark clouds gathering on the horizon. She had no say in splitting up from her partner.

  A slow smile spread across Lorne’s face. He didn’t even lift his eyes to the newcomer. The scrutiny sparked a bloom of warming tingles at the base of her spine.

  “Got her,” Lorne answered simply.

  * * *

  Lorne cursed his dumb luck. He’d tried to avoid Bearden, the ranch, and any other living creature after he spotted his cousin in town. Instead, he’d chased off lions trying to scratch up the side of the homestead in some territory dispute, had Alex breathing down his neck, and then heard the telltale sounds of an engine out in the middle of a tornado warning.

  Instincts to help anyone caught in the storm kicked into overdrive when he realized it was her. His bear roared loudly as soon as her scent reached his nose, and hadn’t stopped since.

  Alex paused on the bottom step. Lorne’s hackles rose the longer Alex stared at the gorgeous woman. Her scent flickered with a hint of worry, though her face didn’t show any sign.

  Unmarked, unmated, his. The other male needed to learn his place.

  Lip raised in a snarl, he put himself between the threat and his mate.

  Mate. Mate? No. Never.

  Alex switched his glare from the woman to him. Glowing green eyes replaced those of his human half, but they didn’t lose the intelligence that meant an incoming shift. After a second, the other man dropped his gaze a fraction of an inch.

  He didn’t completely back off or disappear entirely, but Lorne took the win. Alex’s bear was a fucking beast, and he didn’t need a brawl in such a small space. The human wouldn’t stand a chance, and he didn’t want more blood on his hands.

  “Got the tarp secured over that hole in the roof. Won’t last long if this wind keeps up,” Alex said, more growl than words. “Who are you?”

  Spots of shock and anger colored her cheeks and mingled with her prickling scent. The soft strawberries and cream didn’t fade, only thickened into an even more delicious swirl. “Sloan. Kent. And I have people waiting for me back at the office, so don’t try anything, Mr...?”

  Sloan. Lorne mulled her name over in his mind, savoring it like one of those elitist fools with sips of wine. He didn’t want to spit her out and wash her away with another drink. He wanted to drown in the cask.

  “Lorne. Bennett,” he answered. Alex snapped his mouth shut with a satisfying click. Good. Asshole needed to learn some manners. “Surprised you didn’t know that from time spent in your holding cell. This is Alex.”

  “You’re SEA, right?” Alex demanded.

  A mark against her, and also a curiosity.

  How did she come to work for those bastards? Lorne wanted to know what steps brought her there and if she was as full of loathing for his kind as the hunter jackasses she’d watched brought down the night their paths first crossed.

  Her eyes flicked from him to Alex, then back again. Lorne wanted to purr. He couldn’t look anywhere else, either.

  “A list of names isn’t putting them to faces. None of you were booked. Nothing pulled up on the registration list, either.”

  Damn right. Joss was registered, he thought, but none of the other men had their names on the rolls. Doing so was asking for trouble, and had already bitten more than a few supernaturals in the ass. Crazies looking for a cause were just a few clicks away from a target list. And the Black Claw men? They all had their reasons for keeping their heads low.

  “So you looked into me. My, my, that sounds like some abuse of power,” Lorne said with a smirk.

  Alex looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

  Teasing. Him. He’d already said more words to her than his clan in the last week. He wanted to buck the hold she had over him and sink further into it. Mates were a blessing, weren’t they? Ethan and Hunter were better men for finding theirs.

  Except he wouldn’t enjoy his. Couldn’t. Not when he was a dead man whose body just hadn’t quit yet.

  “Well, you were caught at the location of a suspected shifter trafficker and one of you took an injury. Of course we’d check.” She paused, then asked in a softer voice, “The older man, is he okay? I didn’t hear anything after he was taken for medical care.”

  The entire night was one Lorne didn’t want to remember. Hunter nearly lost his mind when Joss went missing. The entire clan, plus Hunter’s father, closed ranks and searched for her. When it became clear that hunters, fucking scum of the universe, had snatched her up, Lorne felt his heart drop into his stomach. He wouldn’t wish losing such a precious treasure on his worst enemy.

  His bear rolled through him with strong instincts to hang on tightly to the woman. Lorne shoved down the thoughts as soon as they rose up, but it was like playing whack-a-mole. His idiot inner animal replaced every sending he killed with two more.

  Sloan with smiles just for him, her scent heavy in his den, a bite mark on her lovely skin...


  Wrapped up in his towel, covering her scent with his own, that felt too right. Too domestic.

  And not meant for him.

  Lorne cleared his throat as he sank to the floor. “Nothing a good sleep and a shift wouldn’t cure.” True, too. Once the silver bullet was pulled from Hunter’s father’s arm, he was good as new.

  She nodded once, lips set in a strong line. He respected that she didn’t get wishy-washy or went disbelieving. She simply absorbed the information.

  Alex still had narrowed eyes when he clomped down the last step and slid to the floor as far from Sloan as the room would allow. “You bring down the radio?”

  Lorne’s bear wanted to rip the man apart just a little less than before.

  He rummaged through his bag until he put fingers on a small radio. He clicked on a local channel. The tail end of emergency warning beeps faded into soft music while the storm continued to rage on above them. “We were listening to this when they broke through with the sighting. We should hear something.”

  Sloan tugged the towel tighter around herself and shifted from one foot to the other before she leaned against the slab wall. “At least I know you didn’t lure me in here for anything nefarious.”

  He grunted. He was a lot of things, a killer one of them, but she had nothing to fear from him. Not when his bear was riding him hard to cross the space separating them and claim her thoroughly.

  The constant, restless prowling of his inner beast ceased entirely. The roars didn’t quiet, nor did the urges to get close to the woman, but it was like a sudden weight lifted from his mind.

  Mate.

  He wanted her. Naked, under him, screaming his name. Her scent clogged up his nose and made the temptation even worse.

  He couldn’t touch her. Ian was somewhere in town. A human girl was what got him into trouble to begin with. His cousin would see Sloan as another target. If not Ian, then someone else. The Bennett clan had numbers on their side and held grudges better than anyone he knew.