Force of Temptation Page 2

  “Yes, there is,” insisted Bracken. “I asked you guys to train Kim because she said she was interested in being an enforcer. I thought she meant it.”

  Ally sighed. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s not wrong that she doesn’t take life too seriously and wants to have fun. But there’s a flip side to all that—she’s operating on her own timeline, so she’s often late. She doesn’t like rules, so she bristles at our orders. In not taking life too seriously, she’s not taking the sessions seriously. That’s the problem.”

  “And she pays a little too much attention to Jesse,” added Bracken.

  Ally inclined her head. “Well, yeah.”

  The whole thing grated on Jesse’s nerves. There was only one female he and his wolf wanted—a pretty little margay shifter with a will of iron and a spine of steel. Jesse knew she was in California, working at a club not far from his territory. He also knew he wasn’t going to let her leave the state. He’d hoped Harley would come to him, had waited patiently, but she hadn’t. One more week. He’d give her one more week. If she didn’t come to him, he’d go to her.

  “She gets a little distracted by him,” added Ally.

  “A little distracted?” repeated Bracken with a snort. “That’s an understatement.”

  “All right, so she melts into a puddle of lust every time Jesse gets authoritative with her,” Ally conceded.

  Jesse winced. He’d never thought of Kim that way. She was Bracken’s baby sister and had once been a friend of Jesse’s deceased true mate, so he was . . . well, not nice to her—Jesse wasn’t anyone’s definition of “nice”—but he was tolerant of her. Or, at least, he had been until she started doing irritating shit like sitting too close to him at every meal and, worse, constantly asking him for extra help with combat moves that required him to touch her. She also acted upset whenever Ally passed on any constructive criticism during training, looking to him for comfort.

  Until now, Kim had never shown any interest in him. “It’s possible that she’s just trying to seduce her way into the pack by attaching herself to one of the males.” It wouldn’t be the first time a female had tried it. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Bracken. I just have to wonder about it.”

  Bracken shrugged, unoffended. “I’d like to say she wouldn’t do something like that, but Kim lives by her own rules and I don’t know what they are. She also has it in her head that you and Ashley were once together.” Ashley was Bracken’s other sister.

  Jesse jerked back. “That did not happen.” He would never fool around with his friend’s sister.

  “I know that,” Bracken assured him. “Even Ashley told her that it wasn’t true. But Kim thinks it is, and she’s always been in some imaginary competition with Ashley. Even when they were kids, if Ashley had something, Kim wanted to have it too.”

  “Whatever Kim’s reason is for behaving this way, I think it would be best if Eli took over for you, Jesse,” said Shaya. “Unless you think it might be best to cut Kim’s training short, Ally. It doesn’t seem important to her anyway.”

  “Give her a formal warning,” Derren told Ally. “Make it clear what behaviors you find inappropriate and insist that she take the training seriously. If she wants the chance to prove herself by continuing the training, let her have it. But make her understand that she will not get another warning.”

  Ally gave a slow nod. “That’s fair. And I’ll have Eli take over from Jesse.”

  Sounded good to Jesse.

  The sound of footsteps descending the stairs was quickly followed by Nick entering the den.

  Marcus cocked his head as he studied the Alpha. “You look grumpier than usual. What’s wrong?”

  Nick sat next to Shaya. “I just had a call from Hector Flynt.”

  Shaya joined her hands in prayer. “Please tell me his plans for the hotel fell through.”

  Nick twined one of her red curls around his finger. “I wish I could, baby. He called to repeat his offer, the stubborn bastard. If I’d known someone would swoop in and take that land, I’d have claimed it myself and we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  The neighboring pack had fallen apart after Nick killed their corrupt Alpha female for trying to wipe out the Mercury Pack. Hector Flynt—a half shifter who owned a chain of hotels and restaurants—stepped in and acquired the empty territory, where he planned to build a hotel resort. Naturally, none of the Mercury wolves were happy about it. They treasured their quiet and privacy. They didn’t want to listen to cheesy hotel cabaret every night or deal with tourists stumbling onto their territory, nosing around and taking pictures.

  As it turned out, Hector didn’t want a pack next door to his hotel any more than they wanted the hotel there. He had come to Nick with a “solution” to their mutual problem: he’d offered to buy their territory . . . as if it were a mere stretch of land, not their home and sanctuary. He’d then reeled off a figure that made Jesse’s brows hit his hairline.

  “Does anyone else have the feeling he doesn’t like shifters?” asked Jesse.

  Eli frowned. “What makes you think that?”

  “He could have bought land anywhere, but he went for shifter territory,” said Jesse. “He has a history of buying shifter territories.”

  Nick’s mouth twisted. “It might be worth finding out so we know if this is something personal against shifters.”

  Eli’s frown deepened. “But he’s half shifter.”

  “That doesn’t mean he likes that half of him,” Nick pointed out.

  Shaya squeezed her mate’s hand. “I think Hector’s scared of you, but I’m not sure he’ll drop this anytime soon. A person doesn’t become as successful as he is without having a serious amount of determination.”

  Nick’s brow creased. “Nothing would make us sell.”

  “We know that, but he doesn’t,” she said.

  They all fell quiet as Nick’s mom came into the room with a freshly bathed Cassidy and Willow. “They’ve come to say good night,” Kathy announced.

  Both kids were cute in their own way. Cassidy was angelic looking with her white-blonde hair, bright-blue eyes, and baby face. Willow’s corkscrew curls were also blonde, though a little darker. She had green eyes like her father and elfin features like her mother, complete with an impish smile.

  Cassidy skipped over to Jesse and tilted her head. “Have you brought her here yet?”

  “Who?” Jesse asked.

  “The pretty lady.”

  Jesse inwardly frowned. She’d said something similar a few times that day. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about, angel.”

  She sighed, as if exasperated with him. “You should bring her here before her car goes boom.”

  Everything in Jesse froze. As she turned to leave, he gently placed a hand on her arm. “Wait, what did you say?”

  “Her car,” she repeated impatiently. “It’s gonna go boom.”

  Ally took her hand, her voice patient as she spoke. “This pretty lady . . . do you know her name?”

  Cassidy shook her head.

  “What does she look like?” Jesse asked, striving to sound gentle when panic was eating his insides. Could it be his mother? His grandmother? A cousin? A—

  “Her hair is long like mine, but it’s dark. She has gold eyes. Oh, and she can make music.” Then the pup skipped away, leaving him stunned.

  His gut twisted painfully and his heart literally missed a beat. He knew a female with mesmerizing gold eyes . . . a female he’d been watching over for many years . . . a female who could play a musical instrument . . . a female who also happened to be his.

  For a moment he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Then, looking at Bracken and Zander, he saw the same dawning realization in their eyes.

  “Fuck,” Jesse bit out.

  CHAPTER TWO

  In the shadowed parking lot, Jesse waited impatiently while Zander inspected Harley’s car. None of the humans heading to the club paid them any attention, which showed just how easy it would be for so
meone to tamper with her car. She should have known better than to park in the shadows; she should be taking better care of herself. But then, Harley had never been as protective of herself as she was of those she cared for. Not because she was reckless, but because she stupidly didn’t see that she was important to anyone.

  The sound of humans laughing rubbed on Jesse’s raw nerves. His pacing wolf was just as furious that anyone would target Harley. She was theirs, even if she hadn’t quite accepted it yet.

  Eyes narrowed, Bracken said, “Should I ask how you knew where she worked and which car was hers?”

  “No.”

  Finally, Zander slid out from underneath the vehicle. “There’s a bomb there all right. A pretty simple construct. It was set to explode when the engine turned on.”

  Jesse swore. “Can you disable it?”

  “Already did, but I left it where it is in case she wants proof that we’re not fucking with her. What reason does she have to trust us after the way our old pack behaved toward her?”

  “I personally never thought she introduced Mia to drugs,” claimed Bracken.

  “Neither did I,” said Zander. “Her pride was—still is—wild, but Harley was grounded. And, no offense, Jesse, but Mia was no saint.”

  Jesse sighed. “I know. I never blamed Harley either.” He tipped his chin toward the club. “We need to find her.”

  He had never much liked nightclubs. What was fun about being jostled by shit-faced people while lights flashed in your eyes, couples were dry humping all over the place, glow sticks were being waved in your face, and females were whipping their hair around and sending their sweat flying at you?

  No, it just wasn’t Jesse’s thing. Nonetheless, he descended the steps to the underground club, nodding curtly at the human manning the door before walking through the arched doorway. It wasn’t at all what Jesse had expected. No people dancing on tables. No glow sticks. No whistles. No podiums. No people dry humping against the red brick walls. In fact, the place had the look of a jazz bar. It was classy and stylish. But there was also something dark about it—it had a forbidden air that drew a person inside and heated their blood. His wolf liked it.

  Jesse slowly scanned his surroundings. There didn’t seem to be any sign of Harley. He arched a questioning brow at Bracken and Zander. They shook their heads.

  “Want to split up?” asked Bracken.

  Jesse thought about it. “No. Better if we stay together.” Indicating for his fellow enforcers to follow, he stalked the place in search of Harley. The last time he’d seen her had been at Mia’s memorial. No one else had noticed the female leaning against a tree, watching from afar where his old pack wouldn’t sense her. He’d known she’d come—not just because she was the type of person who paid her respects, but because he always knew where she was; he’d monitored her over the years as she drifted from place to place.

  After the last blessing was said over the memorial stone, she’d walked away. Knowing she was staying at a local hotel, he’d gone to her. At first, they had simply talked about his sister and exchanged stories. Then, before he knew it, he was kissing Harley like a man possessed. Her taste had burst through his system and ate at his control until he’d just had to have her.

  He didn’t know how many times or how many ways he’d fucked her that night, but he could still remember the feel and taste of her. Honestly, he was surprised she’d let him in the hotel room without a struggle. His pack had completely fucked her over. Worse, her pride hadn’t been worth shit, so she hadn’t had their backing.

  Part of him had been glad when her aunt took her away from her pride—God knew she’d had a better life in the human world. But another part of him had hated it. He hadn’t liked not knowing where she was and what she was doing. His wolf hadn’t liked being away from her either. And so Jesse had watched over her from afar, interfered in her life more times than he should have.

  The day after the memorial, he’d woken up to find her gone. He’d been pissed, but he’d also understood why she’d left. So he’d returned to California just as she’d returned to Manhattan, and he’d continued to watch over her . . . waiting for the right time to step forward and take what was his.

  “I don’t see her,” said Zander.

  “Me neither.” Bracken walked to the bar and spoke to the barmaid. “I’m looking for Harley Vincent.”

  The middle-aged brunette paused in drying a glass. “Yeah? Who’s asking?”

  “I’m an old friend.”

  The brunette narrowed her eyes. “Old friend, huh. She’ll be out any second now. Want a drink?”

  “Um . . .”

  “Then move away from my bar.”

  “Let’s sit and wait,” said Zander.

  No sooner had they settled at a table near the dance floor than the crowd went wild and Bracken said with a smile, “Look.”

  Jesse followed Bracken’s gaze . . . and there she was, standing next to the DJ on the stage, electric violin in hand. The beautiful instrument was S-shaped and a striking metallic blue, though nowhere near as striking as her heavy lidded gold eyes—bedroom eyes. She looked fucking edible in a crimson ripped top, faded-blue skinny jeans, and red high heels. Her midnight-black hair had dark-burgundy highlights and hung down her back in a smooth, layered curtain. She had some deliciously sensual curves and a pair of full, high breasts that he knew were a handful. His wolf sat up, intrigued and hungry. No surprise there.

  And then she started to play. Standing straight with her feet shoulder width apart and her left foot slightly forward, she kept the electric violin on her left collarbone and the left side of her jaw on the chin rest as she played along with the dance tune. He’d never before heard her play. She was amazing. Captivating. So damn talented and passionate. She had a bewitching, natural grace of movement. All he could do was stare, totally turned on.

  One tune flowed into another. The crowd danced, their eyes on her. It was impossible not to look at her. She was so in charge of herself up there, oozing confidence and sensuality, that she commanded and held attention. Possessiveness roared through him fast and furiously.

  She drew out the final note, making it long and slow. Then she looked up, mouth curving into a small yet cock-hardening smile. There was clapping and whooping, and she gave a humble bow. She had no need to be modest, but his Harley had never given herself enough credit for anything she did.

  Zander blew out a breath. “Wow.”

  “Seriously gifted, isn’t she?” said Jesse. He kept his focus on the curtain that led backstage, so he saw the very moment she appeared. She modestly accepted each of the compliments people shouted as she headed to the bar. She moved exactly like a cat—graceful, fluid, and smoothly, with a little haughtiness thrown in.

  “Wait here,” he told Bracken and Zander. Pushing out of his chair, he went to the bar, where she was chatting with the barmaid. “Harley?”

  She turned with a casual smile . . . and stilled, eyes widening slightly. “Jesse?”

  Of course it would have been nice if she had excitedly thrown herself at him and given him her brightest smile, but Jesse knew better than to expect that kind of reception from a female margay shifter. They were not put on the Earth to please and could shred a male’s ego with minimal effort. If you wanted a margay’s affection, you had to win it. If you wanted their attention, you had to be interesting enough to hold it. And if you wanted to claim and keep them, you had to be tenacious and resourceful.

  In short, they were a challenge. It was a good thing he was up for one.

  His wolf pushed against his skin, wanting out, wanting the pretty kitty. Jesse shoved him back down, but the wolf bucked at the reins; he’d missed Harley. Seeking calm, Jesse inhaled deeply . . . and her sweet yet sultry scent slammed into him and flooded his lungs. Warm apples, vanilla cream, and a promise of long, hot, satisfying sex. His cock throbbed painfully. “Don’t I get a hug?”

  She shook off her surprise and said, “Sure.”

  As she moved into
his open arms, her head tucked beneath his chin, he breathed in more of her scent and let it soothe his wolf. Her scent brought with it so many memories—some good, some bad, and some damn fucking hot. Despite being a shifter, she wasn’t a tactile person, but she’d never shied away from his touch. He couldn’t help but be smug about that.

  Reluctantly releasing her, he said, “We need to talk.”

  She blinked. “Talk?”

  “Somewhere private. You really don’t want anyone hearing this.”

  “Why?”

  “Trust me, you just don’t.”

  Trust me . . .

  Well, that was a problem, because Harley didn’t trust anyone. Never had.

  She subtly inhaled a steadying breath as she stared up at well over six feet of hard male muscle and untamed masculinity. His presence had knocked her completely off-balance and sent her pulse racing. This was a male she’d adored since she was a teenager, one who had believed her when no one else had. One who had played her body with a confidence and single-minded focus she’d never forget.

  As she looked into those familiar brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, she couldn’t help remembering that night. Those normally vacant eyes had smoldered while he’d kissed her, tasted her, bitten her, and fucked her until neither of them had the strength to do anything but collapse and go to sleep.

  Then she’d left him.

  She had to fight the urge to squirm under that watchful, predatory stare. It shouldn’t be possible for a person to be scary and captivating at the same time. He was so menacing and imposing with that air of unshakable calm, but he also throbbed with a blatantly raw sexual energy that gave her goose bumps.

  She had the sudden urge to skim her fingers over the rough edge of stubble on his jaw—stubble that had once left marks all over her breasts and thighs. She liked that he’d traded his military buzz for a short-back-and-sides haircut; she’d enjoy tugging on the short, dark, ruffled strands during her next X-rated dream.

  It was rather sad that he starred in so many of them, but, in her defense, he was achingly hot and possessed a voice that was pure molten sexuality.