Page 14 of Bad Blood Wolf

The bartender gave an almost inaudible growl. Insisting on getting her beer still capped was an insult, saying she didn’t trust the bartender to make sure no one put anything in it.

Brody could tell people were still staring. The tension in the room was raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

Ah, hell. They thought he was a traitor anyway.

Brody moved down the bar till he was standing so close the scent of her lit up his brain like a pinball machine. “Let me get that.”

He put down a few bills, and grabbed the bottle and the opener as Pete slid them across the polished wood surface. He opened Jasmin’s beer, the bottle wet with condensation, and then snapped the cap between his fingers, shooting it toward the garbage pail on the other side of the bar.

Score.

Probably the only time he was gonna do that tonight.

Jasmin tipped her head back and took a swallow. Brody watched the long kissable column of her throat, her bare shoulders. His wolf whined pathetically.

As if she’d heard that silent whimper, she turned to him, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “So, Tornado,” she said. “Come here often?”

Her eyes glinted with mischief—and something else. A wild recklessness that spoke to something inside him that had been asleep forever, and probably should have stayed that way.

Too late now.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked conversationally. “Are you insane?”

Jasmin set her beer back on the bar top and made a sound halfway between a snarl and a laugh. It got his body humming right down to his toes.

“I’m Bad Blood,” she said. “So that would be a yes. And I’m pissed off that those thieving backstabbing motherfuckers stole our money. So I came here to win it back from them, in front of all their friends. You in?”

She jerked her head toward the pool table, challenge in her eyes.

Brody never shot pool. Everybody thought it was because he sucked at it, but the truth was that he was good at it. Too good.

Like magic.

But hell, he’d asked for a miracle. He just hadn’t expected it to come in such a beautiful, crazy-ass package. His blood fizzed with her nearness, and with the possibility of keeping his life from crashing down for a few more days. Whatever she was doing, he wanted in. Anything to make that feeling last longer.

“What the fuck,” he said. “Who am I to stand in the way of certain death?”

He’d rather go down fighting, with her at his side, than just wait for the house of cards to collapse.

She grinned at him. “Good wolf,” she purred. “Give me a minute to get us rolling.” She walked off towards the pool table without a backward glance.

Brody turned to the bartender. “Another beer,” he said. Then, “Scratch that, make it a whiskey. Double.” He was going to need all the help he could get.

Hips swinging in a boner-inducing manner, Jasmin sashayed over to the pool table where Bastian was playing, timing her arrival just as he sank a tricky 8-ball shot to win the game.

Bastian looked up, and his gaze narrowed. “Well, if it ain’t the little pussycat,” he drawled. “Change your mind about me takin’ you for a ride?”

Jasmin eyed him up and down. Brody could have sworn he saw a flash of claws at her fingertips, but they disappeared before he could be sure.

Whiskey in hand, he began drifting over toward the pool tables.

“I want next game,” Jasmin said to Bastian.

“Yeah?” he said, looking her over. “Cody and his partner got next. You gonna make it worth my while to let you jump the line?” He licked his lips suggestively.

Did the idiot never learn?

“Mmmm,” Jasmin purred. “Two hundred a rack?”