Chapter One

Three Years Later

 

Amber

 

I step into the elevator, propping the door open with my foot to hold it for the group approaching.

“Thanks.” A deep voice resonates in the small space. A large hand tattooed with a the phases of the moon wraps around the door. It’s attached to a blue-eyed giant of a man. Underneath his faded T-shirt and tattoos, he’s got muscles like Conan the Barbarian. He could probably eat me for lunch and still be hungry.

Two younger men, just as hulking in size, flank him. Shaved heads, a mess of piercings, and more tattoos. I have to stop myself from recoiling.

What are the Hell’s Angels doing in my apartment building?

Don’t show fear. The first thing I learned in foster care. Study the threat. Again, foster care, though the lesson carries over to the courtroom nicely.

I draw myself up to my full five foot, three inch height. No matter that I barely come up to the shortest guy’s shoulder. I’m a badass, too. Maybe I don’t have giant ear gauges or an eyebrow piercing—ouch, talk about suffering for fashion—but I’m wearing pointy pumps. They’re pinching the hell outta my feet, but with a three inch spike heel, they’ll double as a weapon.

“Visiting someone in the building?” My voice has a dubious lilt. I’m not actually a snooty bitch, but when my safety is compromised, the claws come out.

The first guy gazes down at me and the corner of his mouth twitches. “No.”

At least this guy looks somewhat normal, except for his huge size. Scratch Conan the Barbarian. This guy is all Thor, right down to his square jawed good looks. I don’t normally go for huge and muscled, but damn if he doesn’t have my lady parts tingling with new awareness.

I stifle any fantasies about what it would be like to be manhandled by such a guy. And manhandled? Seriously? When have I ever wanted to be manhandled?

The three men file onto the elevator, choking the small space. The Three Thugs. Like the Three Stooges, except with more piercings and tattoos. There’s so much testosterone in here, it’s a wonder I can breathe.

Heat rushes up my inner thighs.

I lean against the wall, hope these guys aren’t up to no good. I don’t want to judge, but I wouldn’t have survived my childhood if I ignored a threat. And these guys look rough. Their presence makes my skin prickle. Not the stomach-roiling of a full blown vision, but a slight buzzing that can only mean one thing.

Danger.

I stare at Thor’s barrel chest, the raised contour of muscle standing out under his T-shirt, and curse my nipples for beading up at such an obvious display of masculine power. What in the hell is wrong with me? I rarely get turned on by men, and my hormones choose this moment to rev into gear? Choose this motorcycle-driving He-Man? He’s probably a criminal. I cock a hip and wait for him to explain why they are here.

He says nothing, but one of the younger guys smirks at me.

My hand flutters to my neck, ready to knead away the tension at the base of my skull. I cover the defensive gesture by checking to make sure my updo is secure before pushing the button for the fourth floor. “Which floor?” I ask in my best I-could-kick-your-ass-in-court tone.

“Same as yours,” Thor drawls.

Is that a come-on? Or a threat? Are they following me? No, that’s silly. They could’ve just grabbed me in the parking lot if they wanted. I heard their motorcycles roll up, but I never imagined the riders were coming in here.

Thor looks at me, though I refuse to meet his eyes. I hold my briefcase in front of me like a shield until the elevator stops and the doors slide open to my floor.

Please don’t let them be after me. Paranoia, my old friend. I’m being skittish here, but the whole reason I’d moved into an apartment building instead of buying a house was to feel safe.

You’ll never be safe.

Cell phone at the ready, I wait for the motorcycle gang to get out first. Let’s see if they actually have someplace to go. The men saunter off, heading past the door to my apartment and—oh crap—they stop at the very next door.

No. Way. It couldn’t be. “You’re my neighbors?” I’ve lived here a few weeks but haven’t met anyone, yet. The new high rise is right downtown, and the rent is pretty high, even for my salary. Not to be rude, but these guys in their ripped-up T-shirts and jeans don’t look like they can afford the place. Unless they are drug dealers. Which would be just my luck.

“Is there a problem?” Thor asks.

“Ah...no. Of course not.” Not until you throw a disgustingly loud party complete with biker babes and too much booze. Frankly, I can’t believe they haven’t already.

I slide my key into the lock, glancing back to make sure they’re really going into their apartment. Thug Number Two—the smirking one— lunges at me, snarling like a ferocious dog.

I shriek and drop my briefcase.

Thug Number Three laughs.

“Knock it off.” Thor grabs the scruff of the barking man’s shirt and yanks him back. “Get inside. You don’t need to scare her.” His eyes land on me again. “She’s doing a good enough job of that herself.”

The two young men stroll inside, still chuckling. I grab my briefcase. Tendrils of hair break free from my hair clip, and I swipe at them to hide my flushed cheeks. Damn punks. My hand shakes, and I hate that most of all. I am no longer the girl who cowers in doorways.

My head feels a little tight, herald of an oncoming vision. I haven’t had one in a while, so this one should be a doozy.

Great.

Heart hammering against my ribs, I enter my apartment and start to shut my door. A steel-toed boot jams inside the doorway, stopping me. My eyes fly up to Thor’s face, landing on the startling blue eyes. The corners crinkle, and he gives me a predatory half-smile.

I shiver.

“I’m Garrett.” He extends his large hand through the gap in the door.

I stare at it for a full two seconds before good manners win out over fear. I transfer the phone to my left hand to take his palm. The heat from his hand envelopes mine, a shock of connection running up my arm. A strange sense of knowing runs through me—like this guy and I are old friends, and I’ve just forgotten.

I shake off déjà vu. Gotta keep Crazy Amber at bay.

“Sorry Trey scared you. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” His voice is deep and velvet-smooth, matching his rugged good looks. It sends heat curling low in my belly. He appears to be not much older than my twenty-six years. Too old to be dressing and acting like a punk. Although he does it so well. Faded T-shirt stretched across giant pecs, tattoos peeking at me from his sleeves and collar. Tousled, just out of bed hair and midday scruff. Mmmm.

Let the record reflect: Tattooed bad boys make my ovaries sit up and beg.

I shove my awakening lust back down. This is no time to be turned on. This guy probably mugs little old ladies on his way to motorcycle gang meetings.

“Are—” I clear my throat, trying to sound conversational instead of freaked. “Are all three of you staying there?”

“Yeah. So you’ll be safe with us around.” He flashes a full smile that takes my breath away. He has deep dimples and remarkably full lips for such a manly man. Chris Hemsworth has nothing on this guy.

Safe. Yeah, right. “Fantastic. I feel better already. Would you mind removing your foot from my door?” I’m going for cool, calm, and collected, but it comes out sounding a little tart.

He gives me a lazy smirk that unfortunately ignites a slow burn between my thighs. “You never told me your name.”

“I know.” I look pointedly down at his foot.

He tsks, folds his arms, and leans against my doorframe. “Look, princess—”

“Don't call me princess.”

He raises a brow. “Then, what do I call you?”

“Ms. Drake. Amber Drake.”

“You a teacher or something?”

“Lawyer. And you’re close to a harassment charge.” He’s not, actually. They haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t usually throw my lawyer weight around, but I want to get inside my apartment before I have a vision. Don’t need my hot new neighbor knowing I’m crazy.

“We didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You don’t scare me,” I say quickly.

“So why are you clutching your pearls? As soon as you saw us, you got your panties all twisted in a knot.”

Oh lordy. He’s talking about my panties. “I’m not wearing pearls.” I use my most lawyerly tone.

“What about panties?”

God help me. The sensitive bits covered by said garment contract at the mention. “No comment.” I yank the door, but it doesn’t budge.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Figure of speech. You’d be clutching them if you had them. The pearls.”

The image of me clutching my panties instead, as he rips them off me with those strong, white teeth, makes my breath hitch. To hide my mounting lust, I go back to scowling, giving up on tugging the door.

“Listen,” he says. “My guys are cool. They may look rough, but they’re motherfucking Boy Scouts.”

I wince at the ill-placed curse word. “Well, Mr....Garrett, maybe you should get back to helping old ladies cross the street.” Or mugging them. I shoo him, but he doesn’t budge.

“I'd rather help you next door to my apartment.” He leans closer, and heat rushes over me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been hit on by someone this hot. Maybe never. The lack of subtlety has me rolling my eyes, but I have to admit, there’s something to his cocky directness.

No. I am not tempted in the least.

Let the record reflect: I need to find a nice, normal, non-scary guy and flirt with him. Never, ever entertain the thought of going over to my scary hot neighbor’s place wearing nothing but tiny panties and pearls. And maybe a pair of heels.

Oh God.

“Seriously,” Garrett’s voice drops an octave, the low rumble thrilling me. “Come on over, have a beer. Get to know us.”

Can Lawyer Amber turn into Amber the Biker Chick? For a split second, I see myself out of my chic business suit and in tight jeans and a tube top. Hair down around my shoulders, cheeks sun-kissed and tilted into the wind. I cling to Garrett, leaning into the curve of the road as we ride.

I blink. Did I just have a vision? My head pulses a little in answer, but there’s no pain.

“So, what will it be, princess?” Garrett’s still looking at me, blue eyes friendly. A girl could get lost in that cerulean sea.

Not. Safe.

“No, thank you.”

“Okay. Your loss.” He withdraws his boot.

My push on the door makes it slam in both our faces. I yelp like an idiot. Lordy. I draw in a long, shaky breath. Something has let loose in my belly and somersaults around like a balloon releasing its air.

Locking the deadbolt, I press my ear to the wood and listen. Three seconds pass before I hear footsteps walk away. I sag against the doorway, put a hand to my head. The slight throb is gone.

Let the record reflect: I need to call building management tomorrow and find out just exactly who those guys are and whether there are any complaints against them.

For all I know, my apartment might have come available because no one wants to live next to those guys. I sure as hell don’t.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

“I don’t even have pearls,” I mutter, toeing off my pumps and setting my briefcase on the table as I speed dial my best friend.

“Hey, girl,” she answers. I might be boring and normal—or at least I try to be—but my bestie is cool. Her mom was a hippie, though, which is how she ended up with an outrageous name.

“Hey, Foxfire. How’s it going?”

“Trying to keep busy...you know, to keep my mind off it.” Foxfire caught her boyfriend cheating the weekend before and kicked him out. About time, but breakups suck, so I’ve appointed myself her number one cheerleader and activities coordinator until the risk of her caving and asking him back is over.

“Do you want to come to my place? We could watch Netflix and chill.” I’m ready for a bit of mind-numbing television tonight. Nothing like silly reality shows to keep my crazy visions at bay. If only it helped my headaches.

“No thanks,” Foxfire sighs.

I sense a sad spiral coming on, and scramble. “Hey, you know what we should do?”

“What?”

“Go out dancing tomorrow night. The Morphs are playing at Club Eclipse.”

“I don’t know. I don’t really feel like it.”

“Are you kidding me? They’re your favorite. You’re always telling me how good they are in concert.” Most days, I avoid clubs, bars, and any other loud spaces like my sanity depends on it. Which, given my tendency to have visions, it just might. Foxfire, you’d better appreciate this. I take a deep breath and lie my face off. “Now I really want to go.”

“You? You hate going out. Usually, I’m the one dragging you.”

“Uh, yeah, and now I miss it. I know you don’t feel like it—that’s not the point. The point is to force yourself to get out and be social.” I employ the argument she’s used on me many a time. “I’ll bet a million guys hit on you.”

Foxfire snorts. “I doubt it. But I’d love a Cosmo.”

“Me, too.” It’s my turn to sigh.

“So what’s with you? You’ve been working so much lately.”

“Yeah, the center’s been busy.”

“Lots of kids coming through the system?” The gentle sympathy in Foxfire’s tone causes my shoulders to unbunch.

“A few.”

“Well, I know you’re helping them. You almost give lawyers a good name.”

“I don’t know about that, but helping these kids is necessary. Jesus, so many of them have the most fucked-up lives. They deserve at least one person who cares representing them in the system.” I grab a sponge from the sink and wipe down the counter, even though it’s already clean. “So...I just met the guys who live next door.”

“Oh yeah?” Foxfire drags out her voice in a suggestive tone.

“No, not like that. Scary-looking guys.” I recall Garrett’s blue eyes and dimpled smile. Maybe he’s not that scary. But he definitely left me feeling flustered and off-kilter. “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell if they were intimidating me or flirting.”

“You sound interested.”

“No, definitely not.” Total lie. My hand tingles where Garrett grabbed it. A man like him would be big enough to climb like a jungle gym. Would he let me ride on top? Oh jeez. Head out of the gutter, Amber!

I don’t want him in my bed. Even though he’s probably really good. But good in bed doesn’t mean he’ll be a good neighbor. Unbidden, the image of me joining one of their all-nighters in my panties and pearls pops into my brain.

Stop it.

“Are they hot?” Leave it to Foxfire to read between the lines.

Even though I’m alone in my apartment, my cheeks grow warm. I let out a strangled chuckle. “Um...yeah. One of them was—is—whatever. But not my type. Definitely not my type.”

 

~.~

 

Garrett

 

I lift my palm to my face and inhale the scent still lingering from the pretty blonde human. She wore the hell out of that short fitted skirt and jacket, and as much as she wanted to project prim and proper with her hair up in a librarian hairdo, I smelled her interest. She was aroused. By me. And, when we touched hands, I felt the shock of something.

My fingers still tingle from our connection.

I smelled a little fear on her, but mostly the notes were warm and sultry, vanilla, orange and spice. My wolf didn’t want to scare her—which is a first. He usually likes throwing his weight around, and feels only impatience for human women. Why would I be interested in a human? And she definitely is all human—I went in close to be sure.

I have no idea why she made my dick so hard. Sassy little thing, pulling her uptown-girl act while her knees shook with fear. I wanted to push her up against the elevator wall, wrap those knocking knees around my waist, and plow the sauciness right out of her. I bet she’s never had a proper orgasm. I just might have to show her what it’s like to come all over my cock, my name falling from those berry lips like a prayer.

I rearrange my swelling cock in my jeans before plunking down on the leather sofa. Trey and Jared have already opened bottles of beer and stand out on the balcony, talking loudly. Probably not the best for new neighbor relations.

Maybe I’m getting too old to live with my pack brothers. My dad’s been telling me for years I needed to take a mate, act like an adult, and make the Tucson pack into something more than an MC club of mostly male shifters. We live loose and free, but the fraternity feel makes most wolves wanting to start a family move to my father’s pack in Phoenix, or out of state.

My phone rings, and I check the screen. “Hey, sis,” I answer the call.

“Hi, Garrett.” She sounds breathless. “Guess where I’m going for spring break?”

“Um...San Diego?”

“Nope.”

“Big Sur?”

“Nope, not California.”

“Where, kiddo?”

“San Carlos!”

“No.” I make my voice deep and forbidding. San Carlos is a Mexican beach town several hours south of Tucson, but, according to the news, is having trouble with drug cartels.

“Garrett, I’m not asking.” At twenty-one, my sister, Sedona—named for the beautiful Arizona town where my parents conceived her—is still the coddled baby of the family. She wants full autonomy when she demands it, and full support—financial and otherwise—the rest of the time.

I was ten when Sedona, an “oopsie-baby” was born, so she’s more like a daughter than a sister. I sharpen my tone. “Oh, you’d better be asking, or we have a big problem.” My folks only allowed Sedona to go to University of Arizona because I live close enough to watch over her. I might be an easygoing guy, but I’m still an alpha. My wolf doesn’t tolerate tests of my authority.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I was asking,” she capitulates, changing from stubborn to pleading. “Garrett, I have to go. All my friends are going. Listen. We’re not going to drive through Nogales. We found out there’s a safer route. And we’ll be in a big group. Besides, I’m not human, remember? Drug gangs can’t harm me.”

“A bullet to the head would harm anyone.”

“I’m not going to get a bullet to the head. I won’t be buying drugs, obviously, and I won’t be around places where stuff like that goes down. You’re being way too overprotective. I’m an adult, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Don’t get sassy.”

“Pleeease, Garrett? Pretty please? I have to go!”

“Tell me who’s going.”

A pro at wrapping people around her little finger, Sedona picks up on my crumbling resistance. She plows eagerly into her description of the group. Four boys, five girls, of which two are couples. All human, besides her.

If they were wolves, I’d put my foot down about the mixed genders—not that I’m old-fashioned. With humans, though, no male would be capable of overpowering my sister in any scenario. Still, a spring break beach trip sounds like it would consist of too much drinking and partying, which always results in poor decision-making.

A whoop from the balcony makes me glare at my roommates.

“I want to meet these kids,” I tell my sis.

“Garrett, please! You will totally embarrass me. That’s not fair.”

“Then my answer is no.”

She huffs into the phone. “Fine. We’ll stop by on our way out of town to say goodbye.”

Very clever. I’d be the biggest jerk on Earth to pull the plug on her trip at the last minute. My dad would do it, but not me. Which is the main reason Sedona picked a college in my town, versus going to Arizona State.

“Okay. When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“You’re calling to ask permission the night before your trip?” I growl into the phone.

“Well, I was trying to avoid the asking permission thing.” Her voice gets small.

“You’re lucky you reconsidered.” I force my hand to relax. I don’t want to break another cellphone.

“So, I can go?”

“You will not allow anyone to drive drunk at any time.”

“Right.”

“And you will never drink more than two drinks in one night.”

“Aw, come on, Garrett, you know I can drink more than that.”

“I don’t care. I’m giving you my stipulations. If you want to go, you’d better agree to them.”

“Okay, okay, I agree. What else?”

“I want a check-in text every day.”

“Got it.”

I sigh. “Did you get Mexican insurance for the car?”

“Yep. We’re all set. I’ll see you in the morning. Love you, big bro. You’re the best!”

I shake my head, but smile as I hang up. Whoever mates my sister has my pity. It’s impossible to deny her anything.

“Hey, boss, you headed to the club tonight?” Trey ambles in from the balcony.

“Not tonight,” I examine my phone for cracks. Sedona brings out the protective side of me unlike any other. At least, until I met little Miss Prim ’n Proper next door. For some reason, my wolf has already decided she’s under my protection, whether she likes it or not.

“’Cause I was thinking about inviting our new neighbor out. See if she has a wild side.”

“No,” I growl. My phone crunches in my grip. Rage flares up out of nowhere, surprising the hell outta me. “Leave her alone.” Trey’s eyes drop to the floor. Beyond him, Jared freezes.

“Just stay away from our neighbor.” My wolf is close, making my voice husky.

“Yes, Alpha,” Both wolves bow their heads.

Instead of an explanation, another growl rises in my throat. I’m alpha. I don’t have to explain. “And no more drinking on the balcony,” I add with a glare. When I open my hand, pieces of my cell phone drop to the couch.

My anger fades as they slink away, but the feeling of satisfaction remains. My wolf is happy we protected Amber. But why? What does one little human matter to me?