Wyatt moved like a fighter. From the way his shoulders were squared at all times and his eyes stayed constantly searching his surroundings, I knew he'd been in more than a few scrapes. And, with a vest like his, I had a feeling he'd been in significantly more than just a few. Guys like him, they prided themselves on their sparring ability, on being able to throw a punch and make sure the opponent didn't get back up. Also, they fought dirty. Which meant that once you hit the ground, you probably weren't getting to your feet anytime soon.

“You wanna hold my hand, too, while we cross the street?” he sneered back at me.

“Just keep moving, asshole, or I'll carry you across by your scruff. How's that sound?”

He chuckled dryly as we crossed the couple lanes of almost non-existent traffic. The last thing I wanted was an altercation, for more reasons than one. First, Sheriff Peak might get called. Second, the neighboring businesses might see. Third, I might actually lose.

I wasn't worried about long-term effects of a fight with this guy, not unless he had any silver on him. That was really the only thing that could injure a shifter in the long run. In our human form, though, we healed still healed rapidly. But, if the trauma was severe enough, we could bleed out just as easily as any human. I could almost completely heal by shifting, but that would only work if I survived long enough to make the transformation.

In our wolf form, of course, it was a completely different story. The only guaranteed way to put us down, then, was a silver bullet through the heart. There were other ways, but that was the only sure fire one.

But I was honestly most worried about looking weak in front of Jessica. And I could certainly feel her eyes on my back as we headed for his bike parked across the street.

“You her bodyguard or something?” he asked as we crossed.

“Head of customer service.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Right. With that gun on your hip?”

“Listen,” I said to his back as we stopped next to his bike, “I don't know what game you think you're playing, but I won't let this keep going.”

“Huh,” he said, his back still to me. “Think you got the sack to stop me? That it?”

“Maybe not stop you,” I admitted. “But more than enough to make your life a living hell. So, I want you to think about whether or not what you're planning is worth it. Because if anything happens to her, I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making you pay for it in every conceivable way. Get me?”

“You threatening me, bud?”

“No, I'm promising you. Get out of Enchanted Rock, and stay away from the Curious Turtle. You have any correspondence with Jessica Long in any way other than mail or email, I'll make you wish you hadn't.”

“Tough guy, huh? Think just cause you spent some time in the gym or out hunting in the woods, you can handle a guy like me? Seen some movies, now you think you're Charles Bronson or some shit? John Maclain?”

I snorted. “This ain't the movies, and we both know it.”

And then he swung. It was a wild haymaker with his right fist as he came around, his meaty fist bearing right down on my head.

It was so reckless I should've known it was a fake-out. I blocked the punch anyway, though, my forearm shooting up into the crook of his elbow.

Before I could counter-strike, though, he'd jabbed me twice in the kidneys with his left fist, both punches hitting like a mule's kick right in my side.

Pain shot through my body and I bent over with a growl. I was in close, though, and I brought my knee up into his gut, knocking the wind from him in a big whoosh.

He stumbled back and bent over, hands on his stomach, gasping for air and staggering.

I struck him twice, right across the mouth, slamming my fists against his jaw.

Wyatt's head ricocheted back and forth between my fists, blood spraying from his mouth.

With a handful of greasy hair, I yanked his head down to my knee, and felt the satisfying crunch of his nose.

He stumbled and dropped to his knees, blood spilling over his lips, his nose already swollen and gushing blood down his face, his eyes dazed.

Just like that, it was over. I bent over at the waist in front of him, hands on my thighs, scrapes across my knuckles. “Wyatt, I think we got off on the wrong foot here, and you don't seem to believe me because of it. So let me repeat myself. You get the fuck out of the Rock, and never come back. I see you here at the Curious Turtle, I'll fucking kill you myself. You got it?”

He looked up at me with wild, crazed eyes. The eyes of a pissed off madman. There were daggers, guns, chains, broken bottles, and bombs in that glare of his as he struggled to his feet without a word. He just nodded when he was finally upright,  swaying back and forth, punch drunk. “You know this ain't the end of things.”

“Counting on it.”

Eyes still on mine, he noisily sucked blood from his nose and spat a big, crimson wad on the sidewalk. He nodded like he was making me a promise he fully intended to keep. Then, he turned around, climbed back on his bike, and kicked it alive.

“Be seeing you, asshole,” he tossed back over his shoulder, before opening up the throttle on his engine and taking off down Main Street.

“Yeah,” I said to his back as he raced out of town. “Be seeing you, too, asshole.”

As I stood there, watching Wyatt cut off a smoking, honking logging truck and disappear around the corner, the phone in my pocket began to ring.

I pulled it out, pressed it to my ear. “Murdoch.”

“It's Lacy. Got some more info on that Wyatt guy.”

“What can you tell me?”

“Remember how I said he was a member of Skull and Bones? Turns out he's more than just a member. He's the president of their Colorado chapter.”

I just blinked at this revelation. That wasn't good.

“Richard?” Lacy asked on the phone. “You there?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I'm here.”

“What's wrong?”

“I think I just kicked the president of Skull and Bones' ass.”

“Fuck, Richard! That's not good, dude. That's not good at all.”

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly realizing just how wonderful the cool Colorado air felt as I breathed it into my lungs. “I get that impression.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn't,” I said, my voice raised, then caught myself. I took another deep breath as I turned and headed back to the Curious Turtle. “Sorry, I didn't mean to get upset like that. I just—sorry, I just reacted, okay? I walked him out to his bike, and I said some shit, and he swung at me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Let him beat your ass, that's what,” Lacy quipped.

“Not likely,” I said as I rubbed my side where he'd landed his two punches. A lesser man would have been left pissing blood for a couple days after that kind of run-in, but thankfully I wasn't just a simple man. “What else you got? I heard Wyatt offering Jessica a hefty chunk of change to walk away.”

“Money laundering?” she asked. “That's what I'm thinking, at least. Lots of criminal rackets like that need to clean up their money, and an art gallery is perfect for it.”

“Got any more details on that?”

“Not yet,” she said, “but soon. Headed back to the office right now to keep looking for that fax number. I can get some more information put together after that.”

“Scratch it,” I replied as I stopped in front of the door. “Pretty sure we've got our guy here, and I want to know what he wants Jessica's gallery for.”

“Got it, boss. Info first, fax second.”

“Good. Call when you have more details.” I hung up the phone and stuffed it away in my pocket.

Jessica was waiting for me inside, her face a curious mixture of fury and concern. “Richard Murdoch,” she said, coming over to me, “what the hell were you thinking!”

“He swung first,” I said defensively. “You saw it.”

“A biker, though?” she asked, grabbing my hand and pulling it up so she could inspect the damage to my knuckles. “You know how those guys are.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Worse than the Marines. All about honor and shit, I know.”

“What'd you say to make him take a swing at you? Do you usually get into fights? Look, you’ve already got some scabs.” She shook her head at me, thinking I was some troublemaker who fought often.

“So it's my fault then?” I asked with a grin, ignoring her remark about my already scabbing knuckles—let her think that I was a frequent fighter. It was better than her knowing the actual truth. They'd be healed by nighttime. Over in Afghanistan, I'd come back from far, far worse, much to our platoon medic's surprise. “Because I antagonized him?”

She dropped my hand. “You know that's not what I mean.” She scowled, then thought about it. “But, yes, it kind of is. I saw the way you were glaring at him when you left. You wanted a fight.”

I shrugged. “Threatened him. Told him to leave you alone, or else.”

“Richard,” she groaned. “What if he's not the guy who's been threatening me? We don't have any proof.”

I shook my head. “What more proof do you need? Guy came in here the morning you receive that turtle in the mail.”

“Tortoise,” she corrected. “It was a tortoise.”

“Fine. Tortoise. But, if I remember correctly, this is what you wanted. You wanted us to try to scare the guy off.”

“Well, I didn't know he was a biker when I said that.”

“Actually,” I said, “not just a biker. The president.”

She looked at me, her eyes round as dinner plates. “You just beat up the president of the Skull and Bones? In front of my fucking art gallery?”

“Look,” I reminded her as she turned away from me and took a few, timid steps, “he's thinking like a businessman on this. If it's too much trouble to get you out of here, he won't deal with it. He wants something easy, not a feisty co-owner like you. Anything out of the ordinary, even Sheriff Peak will get involved in this. Besides, if anything comes back on this, it's coming back on me, Jessica. I'm the one who screwed up and pissed him off, not you.”

She stopped and turned back to me. The look on her face was now one, almost, of admiration. “You beat up their president? For me?”

I shrugged. “All in a day's work?” I joked. “Just don't tell my boss, okay?”

She laughed and shook her head. That look in her shining green eyes didn't leave, though.

And, as I locked my gaze with hers, I realized that I could spend the rest of my life looking at her face and that same expression.