Tarun Campbell squinted into the distance, forcing her fingers to unclench from the steering wheel as she relaxed into her seat. Tears pressed against her eyes again, but she forced them back. The time for tears was over—and had been since she left Durga Valley yesterday.
Still, as frustrated as she was over her lack of control, she also thought it was understandable. Durga and the War Cats tribe were all she knew. Had been, for the whole of her twenty-six years. In fact, she’d never even been beyond the gates until she left yesterday.
But the mission she was on was far too important. The thought of leaving her beloved village was terrifying, but she had to do this. She didn’t know what her future held, but hopefully, one day soon, she’d return to Durga. Until then, she needed to push all thoughts of her home away. They were too distracting, and she needed to concentrate.
Her phone rang again, and she sighed as she risked a glance down at it. Jameson. She hadn’t told her brother about her plans to leave—just left a note on the kitchen table as she walked out of the door. She should probably answer, though. If anything, to keep him from mounting a search party of War Cat warriors to find her and take her back home.
Glancing in her review mirror, she saw that the road was as empty as it had been for the last hour. Pulling over on the side of the road, she put the car in park, took a bracing breath, and willed her hands not to tremble as she answered the phone.
“Tarun! What the hell? Where are you? Get your ass back here, now.”
Her brother’s voice was insistent and hard, but she could hear the panic buried beneath the surface. Guilt slammed into her and she squeezed her eyes shut. She shouldn’t have left like she did, but she knew if she told him in person, he wouldn’t let her go where she needed to go.
“I told you in the note, Jamie. I need to do this in person. It’s not something that can be done with a phone call.”
“And that’s another thing. You leave the village completely, when you’ve never left before, without even a hint you were leaving, and you told me in a note? The only reason I haven’t torn apart the country looking for you is because Cady’s been talking me down.”
Thank you, Cady, she thought. Her brother’s mate was a godsend.
“I had to do it like that, Jamie. I know you. You never would have let me leave if I told you about it. I’m sorry I told you in a note, but it was the only way.”
A sigh sounded over the phone, and when he spoke again, his voice was marginally calmer. “You’re damn right, I wouldn’t have let you leave. Tarun, if there’s danger, if you’re sensing a threat, you tell me. I’ll take care of it. You don’t run off. You have a big heart, I know, but that doesn’t excuse putting yourself in danger for people you barely know.”
Raising her eyes up to the roof of her car, Tarun shook her head, rolling it slowly against the headrest. “This isn’t something a phone call would have taken care of. And you can’t take care of it, either. It has to be me. I don’t know why, but it does.”
“Your gift has never required your presence. Ever. I don’t know why it would change now, after so long.”
We need to leave. Now. We’re wasting time and we’re needed, her tiger chuffed impatiently.
The urgency her animal felt transferred itself to Tarun quickly, and she straightened in her seat, gripping the phone tightly.
“I can’t explain it, Jameson. I just know I have to be there. I have to go now. I need to get there quickly. Try not to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Quickly ending the call, she dropped the phone back into the cup holder and put the car in drive, checking for traffic before pulling back onto the two-lane highway. Her phone rang again almost immediately, but she ignored it.
She hadn’t fibbed. There was this instinct inside her that was telling her whatever the threat was, it would end in disaster for the people she’d become fond of if she wasn’t there. That, and her animal constantly urging her to go, were what gave her the push to leave Durga. She couldn’t not go. She’d been feeling that need ever since she sensed the threat.
Every shifter had a gift, something mostly unique and special to them. It could be mental or physical, and hers was mental. She was able to sense threats, although the gift wasn’t without its drawbacks. She didn’t always know who the threat was targeted at. Sometimes, she just had a general idea of a group of people. And a lot of times, she had no idea what the threat was or where it was coming from.
And she’d never, in all her years, felt like she had to be present for the threat to be resolved. Yet, there she was, away from her village for the first time, on her way to a rough and tumble place she wasn’t sure she was equipped to deal with.
After driving another hour and a half, she spotted it. The Blood and Bone Enforcers MC clubhouse, disguising itself to humans and unknowing shifters as B&B Bar and Grill. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she turned into the dusty gravel parking lot, spotting far more motorcycles than cars.
She was so out of her element.
Sitting for a moment, she stared into space, working on calming herself. Finally exhaling a breath she’d held far too long, she grabbed her purse, opened her door, and got out. She stared up at the brightly lit neon sign before trailing her eyes down the large, two story wooden structure.
It looked like something out of an old Western movie, except for the neon and the sheer, massive size. Planked wood, light in color, made up the walls, with a few windows breaking up the unending brown color, and there was a large porch, bare of decorations, running the length of the structure. What looked like handmade rails separated it from the gravel, and that was it.
It desperately needed color. The whole state did, really. Nevada was stark, the terrain unforgiving, with little in the way of color, and B&B Bar and Grill was no different. At least the gravel parking lot was gray and not brown, but it all still lacked curb appeal.
Snorting to herself, she shut the door and hit the lock button. It was a motorcycle club bar she was thinking about. The last thing on the minds of a bunch of badass, hardened shifters would be prettying up their headquarters.
A burst of laughter drew her attention and she looked to the door, watching as two men stumbled out. Humans, she thought. Her eyebrow raised as she glanced toward the setting sun. It was a little early to be that drunk, but who was she to judge? Other than the occasional glass of wine, she’d never had a drink before. She drank wine because she liked the taste, but she’d never been drunk. Shifters couldn’t achieve that state unless they drank copious amounts of alcohol, something she never had any interest in doing.
Maybe being drunk was an amazing feeling, and that was why the men were plastered so early in the evening. She didn’t know, but it wasn’t important. What was important was seeing the intoxicated men had given her the perfect excuse to stall, but that ended now.
Suck it up, buttercup. They’re not going to bite, she lectured to herself as she made her way to the entrance.
Opening the door, she stepped inside, digging her nails into her palms as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The inside was a little better than the outside. It was still a lot of brown—the walls, floor, and tables were all wood. But the bar was shiny, a rich cherry wood, and there were more neon lights hung up, advertising various beers and liquors.
“Can I help you, sweetheart?”
Tarun turned toward the friendly voice, meeting the questioning eyes of a waitress. She smiled, feeling a little more comfortable at the presence of another woman. It seemed like everyone else in the bar was a man.
Nodding gratefully, she glanced around once more before looking back at the woman. Georgie, her name tag read. “Yes, please. I’m looking for a man.”
Georgie laughed ruefully. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific, honey. Look around. This place is full of men.”
Shaking her head, Tarun chuckled, half in response to her own ridiculous statement, and half in response to Georgie’s laughter. “Sorry. I’m looking for Luke. Luke Carlisle, to be more specific.”
In an instant, Georgie’s whole demeanor changed. The smile dropped from her face, her eyes hardened, and her lips tightened as she looked Tarun over. “Best find another man to set your sights on. Outsiders aren’t welcome, as far as he’s concerned. Besides, he’s taken. And I don’t share.”
Mouth popping open, she watched as Georgie spun on her heel and walked away, her hips sashaying in a way that, to Tarun at least, was clearly forced. Disbelief and anger coursed through her veins, two sensations that were mostly unfamiliar to her, but understood, given Georgie’s words.
What wasn’t familiar or understood was the way her heart stopped and then sank like a stone to her stomach, a lump welling up in her throat. Why the woman’s words bothered her so much, she didn’t know.
But she knew she didn’t like it.
Luke Carlisle spun his beer bottle around on the bar top, starting to push it away before he stopped himself. He’d never really cared for the taste of any kind of alcohol, although he knew some shifters drank because they enjoyed it. But the patrons of the bar he and his fellow Enforcers ran would notice if he didn’t have an occasional drink, and they tried not to attract attention like that.
Sometimes, having their own small motorcycle club and using a bar for their headquarters was a pain in the fucking ass.
Raising the bottle to his lips, he took a long pull, keeping the grimace off his face at the bitter taste. He’d never understand why humans liked that shit so much—or the shifters who enjoyed it, either.
“The hell is wrong with you tonight, Luke?”
He glanced up at Blake, the Enforcer leader, and the MC’s President, for all intents and purposes. He was behind the counter, wiping off a glass, his look impassive as he watched Luke. But he could see it. The concern Blake was almost, but not quite, hiding in his dark blue eyes.
Fuck. He hated that look.
“Nothing’s wrong. Just not feeling the bar scene tonight.”
“The same way you haven’t been feeling it for two years now, right? You’ve got to let it go. Get that bullshit out of your head and move on. Everyone else, including Vynn, has moved passed it. Time for you to do the same.”
Brow twitching, he picked at the label on his bottle, not saying anything. Maybe everyone else was over it, but he wasn’t. Because he had no way of knowing if he’d fail to control his gift again like he needed to.
Two years ago, there’d been a war brewing between two shifter groups, the Rocky River fighters and the War Cats. It had all been based on a misunderstanding, one that had the potential to turn deadly. It might have, but the Enforcers got there just as two tigers were fighting—Ian and Vynn.
Luke’s gift was controlling shifter abilities. He could force them to shift from their animal bodies to their human skins, or vice versa. His gift was one that was useful as an Enforcer—in fact, it was a big part of why he was accepted into their fold. Being able to fight, in human and animal form, was a large part of it. But more important was their shifter gifts. His was good enough to allow him a spot with the Enforcers.
But it did no one any good if he couldn’t fucking control it.
He’d struggled with it for basically his whole life but had finally been conquering it. Until that day when the tigers were fighting and he used too much power in his voice. Ian had been able to remain conscious, but Vynn was knocked out cold, resulting in his tiger not being able to heal him in the moment, and leaving him with a nasty scar down his cheek.
“You know Vynn’s tiger could have healed him when he woke up, but chose not to,” Blake said, pulling him from his thoughts. “And we all know it was because Vynn was a dickhead. That had nothing to do with you or your gift.”
Luke’s lips tightened as he pushed his beer away. “I’m gonna take a walk. I’ll be back later.”
Ignoring Blake’s protest, he shoved off his stool and walked to the back hallway, making his way outside. Georgie tried to stop him along the way, the look in her eyes inviting as always, but he just shook his head as he continued on. He’d never been interested in her like that, but he’d run out of ways to let her down easy, as well as the patience to keep trying to protect her feelings.
And based the mood he was in, he’d be harsher than he wanted to be. He wasn’t an asshole, never had been, but for the last two years, he could feel himself struggling against the urge to become one more and more.
Blake was right. Everything had worked out in the end with the War Cat. True, Vynn hated him for a long time—not that he could blame him. But his tiger had finally offered to heal him last year, although Vynn refused, surprisingly.
Maybe that should have miraculously made what Luke had done okay, as Blake seemed to think it should, but it didn’t. Everything had turned out fine that time, but it could have been so different.
Who was to say next time he used his gift, he didn’t kill someone, not just knock them out? It was a thought that haunted him. Since that fight two years ago, he’d made sure he wasn’t in a position to need his gift. Not an easy task, given his occupation, but he’d managed it so far.
That begged the question, though, what good was he as an Enforcer if he couldn’t use his gift? Powerful gifts that could aid in capturing rogue, evil shifters were the main requirement to be an Enforcer. Their group was shifter law. They had to be able to take on the bad guys and win.
Maybe he should hang his hat up, so to speak, and find something else to do with his life. He’d been stubbornly refusing to quit, but it could be what was best—for him and his Enforcer brothers and sister.
That was the thought that had been on his mind for the last few months. What had been keeping him so preoccupied. And he was getting closer and closer to pulling that trigger.
We’re not quitters, his lion said, pacing back and forth inside him, tail flicking with agitation.
We also don’t want to be the reason someone dies.
That’s part of the nature of being an Enforcer. Sometimes we have to take lives.
Yeah. The bad guys. Not someone who doesn’t deserve it. Not one of our brothers, or Damara.
His lion started to protest, but Luke shut him down. He hadn’t completely made his mind up yet, but he was almost there. And there was nothing his animal could say that would change his mind about the course he was headed toward.
His gut was heavy with the thought of leaving the Enforcers, but his head felt a little clearer from his walk, and from getting just a tiny bit closer to a decision. It was a decision he didn’t want to make, but if it resulted in an end to the war he was engaged in with himself, maybe it was best if he made up his mind sooner rather than later.
Opening the back door, he walked through the halls until he was back in the main room. His steps slowed as he caught sight of a woman talking to Blake at the bar. Something about her seemed familiar and his head cocked as he tried to figure out if she was someone he’d met before.
It wasn’t until he was right behind her that he caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror behind the bar. Shock washed over him as he stopped in his tracks, a frown forming on his forehead.
“Tarun? What the hell are you doing here?”