LIVE Nightclub had a private back entrance. About a dozen patrons were seated out on the back deck drinking beer, chatting, and laughing loudly. Only a few of them were women. When Chelsey walked up with Brock, she expected to feel out of place and unwelcome, but the opposite happened. Brock was well known by nearly everyone in the crowd, and he greeted them as he walked through the tables.

“Hey Brock. Didn’t know you were back in town. What’s happening?”

A slim, tattooed guy with a goatee pushed off of the railing and extended his hand. They greeted each other with something that looked like a cross between a handshake and a fist pump—maybe both.

“Hey Archer. I’ve been busy,” Brock said. “I see that you’re still holding it down out here.”

“Of course I am. Leo pays me well to bounce for him,” Archer replied, and then his gaze landed on her. “Busy indeed, eh?”

“Archer, this is Chelsey, my intended.”

“Lucky you.” Archer grinned. “So it’s true what they say then? The bad guy always gets the good girl.”

Brock chuckled. “I guess you can say that.”

“Um…nice to meet you,” she said, anxious to redirect the attention from herself to Brock.

They held a few minutes of light conversation before Brock excused himself by saying that he’d only stopped by to drop something off. He then led them to the far back corner of the deck. There was a sole male sitting at a large table big enough to seat four, but what was really strange to Chelsey was that he was the only one there. He was wearing a black hood that covered his eyes and his gaze was directed toward the table. Both of his hands were on his mug of beer. It almost looked like he was meditating or deep in thought about something. Odd…this wasn’t exactly the type of place Chelsey would think someone would go to meditate or seek solitude.

When Brock held out a chair for her to sit down, she realized that the lone man was Raoulf, Brock’s brother. Just as Brock took his seat, Raoulf lifted his attention, his gaze roaming back and forth between herself and Brock.

“Hello Brother,” Raoulf said, removing his hood. “You’re a little late.”

It was the first time that Chelsey had seen his full face and she didn’t know whether to run or blush. The man was dangerous-looking and attractive. Brock and his brothers had stellar genes, that was for sure.

“Yeah well, I wasn’t exactly in a rush to get here either,” Brock said.

“I can tell why,” Raoulf stated.

Other than the same facial structure and hardcore mannerisms, the two brothers had a lot of differences. Chelsey thought Brock was dark and mysterious, but after seeing Raoulf, she now deemed Brock a saint. Maybe because she knew that she could trust him now and that he was no longer a stranger. Or maybe it was because the contrast between the two brothers was like night and…midnight. She hadn’t been paying Brock’s brothers any mind during the aftermath of the raid on her dad’s home. Plus, they’d all been trying to hide their identities and wearing hoods similar to what Raoulf was wearing tonight.

Raoulf had jet black hair and brushed the top of his shoulders and eyes the color of jade. He had what looked like an old scar down the side of his face.

“Has my bro been giving you any problems, Chelsey,” Raoulf asked her.

“No…just the opposite actually,” she said.

“I bet,” he replied and then turned back to Brock. “I talked to Dane this morning. He thinks he can handle situation number one, but in the meantime, I’ve been called to handle situation number two.”

“Hmmm, if it ain’t one thing it’s another,” Brock said.

"Yeah, exactly…" Raoulf's eyes landed on Chelsey again and his nose flared."And from the way I sense things, you've got a hell of a year coming up."

"So it seems," was Brock's quick reply. “Can you believe my luck?”

“I most certainly can. You deserve this,” Raoulf commented. “Did you bring it?”

Brock pulled out a black satchel from his leather coat pocket and pushed it across the table to Raoulf. Without looking at it or opening the satchel, Raoulf stuffed it into the inside of his jacket pocket.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Brock commented.

“You know me well enough not to question my strategies,” Raoulf replied.

Chelsey didn’t know what the heck they were talking about, but even if she were privy to any of their inside knowledge, she doubted that she’d understand. She had to remind herself that Brock was in an alternate line of work. And, of course, she’d never forget that he was more animal than he was human.

“I’d come with you, but now isn’t a good time.”

Raoulf flipped his hood back over his head. “No brother, don’t explain anything. I understand completely about who and what you must cherish now.”

His green eyes paused on her for a while before landing on the table again. He tilted his mug of beer to his lips and guzzled it down in just a few gulps. “Time for me to go,” he said. “Too many eyes in this direction now that my famous brother has arrived.”

“Well, I just can’t help it. I’m just that dashing,” Brock joked.

“And I’m the rebel without a cause.” Raoulf rose and grabbed his helmet. “Tell Dane I’m outta here, will ya?”

“Take care, little brother.”

“Ditto.”

Raoulf left the area, leaving Chelsey and Brock alone at the table.

“Well, that was…interesting,” she said. “But I had no idea what you were talking about. You were speaking in codes.”

He grasped her hand in his. “Someday, I’ll tell you all about it, but the rest of this night is about us. Remember what I told you?”

“Yeah,” she said, then leaned over to meet his lips with hers. The kiss was short and sweet, leaving her wanting more.

Somehow she managed to forget about where they were to focus on what she needed the most. Brock lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather and sat her on his lap. Her sex pulsed against his arousal and her lips burned as he kissed her hungrily over and over again. They were so absorbed in the taste and feel of one another that they barely noticed when a panicked hush fell over the crowd. Police sirens blared in the distance, growing louder as they approached the nightclub. Only then did they pull back from their intimate embrace. A couple of folks began to flee the area. One took off on his motorcycle and a handful took to the dense woods behind the building. The police cars coming to a screeching halt near the club must have been the backup because several un-informed and armed policeman rushed onto the deck.

“Everybody freeze! Stay where you are. Hands up and don’t make any sudden moves. That includes transforming if you happen to be a shifter. Just don’t do it.”

She’d never had a gun pointed at her and fear forced her to remain still as the policeman had ordered. She was still straddling Brock’s lap, but the heat between them had vanquished and all that remained was Brock’s frustration and her fear and confusion.

“Dammit,” Brock muttered behind her.

“What’s going on?” she asked Brock between clenched teeth as the cops began I.D.ing everyone left out on the deck.

“I have no idea,” he replied.

“Hey! You two!” a cop shouted at them. “Separate.”

Slowly, Chelsey removed herself from Brock’s lap and turned around only to find herself face to face with one of her dad’s friends and colleagues. His eyes narrowed and a flash of recognition crossed over his face.

“Chelsey?” he croaked.

“Detective Paulman?”

“What are you doing at this nightclub?” Mr. Paulman’s attention shifted from her to Brock who hadn’t moved a muscle since the gun had been pointed at him.

She swallowed. “Um…” How did she explain the impossible to a man who wouldn’t understand?

“Your ID?” the detective demanded of Brock.

“I’ve done nothing,” Brock said, flatly.

“We just got here. We were just sitting here. What’s going on?” Chelsey asked.

“It doesn’t look like you were just sitting here,” he stated. “We’re looking for a jewelry thief. A witness claims to have spotted the suspect here.”

“Just in case you’ve noticed, pal, I don’t exactly have a bag of jewelry lying around anywhere,” Brock offered.

“ID,” the detective demanded once again.

Brock grumbled in indifference but produced his ID anyway.

“Brock Justice,” the detective made a quick gesture to another cop behind him. “Cuff him.”

“What the hell?” Chelsey exclaimed.

“What the hell, indeed. Does your dad know you’re out here with a shifter and a criminal?”

The cop grabbed hold of Brock and just like the detective ordered, applied handcuffs.

“Please, stop! What are you doing? He’s been with me all evening. He’s not the jewelry thief.”

“No, he’s not. But he’s damn sure worse than a jewelry thief.” He turned to Brock. “Brock Justice, you’re under arrest for trespassing, theft, and vandalism. You have the right to remain silent…”

“Everything will be fine, Chelsey,” Brock reassured her as he was read his rights. “It’s nothing new for me. You just stay strong.”

“But you’re…” Before she could finish her sentence, a cop shoved him forward and led him away from the deck.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“My job. I do believe I owe it to Governor Canon to let him know what kind of trouble you’ve attracted. You’re coming with me,” Detective Paulman stated, taking her by the arm.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“Honey, I don’t think I want to know, but I do know that I want to keep my job. Your dad’s a friend of mine, but he can also cut me off from my check. I have an obligation to steer you away from this place. Let’s go.”