Chance Fur Hire (Bears Fur Hire 6) (4 page)

“When I was a kid, I was scared of everything,” he murmured against her ear. “It’s the way I was raised. I was different, and different scares people. Fear makes people do horrible things. Do you know what the best thing you can possibly do for yourself is?”

“Are you threatening me?” she asked breathlessly.

“No, little bunny. If I was threatening you, you would know.”

“Then tell me. What can I do for myself?”

“You can open up your mind to the possibility that not all people are the same, and it doesn’t make them better or worse. It just makes them different. Do you want to know the worst thing you can do for yourself?”

The whiskey was hitting her hard, and she closed her eyes against the dizziness as they rocked back and forth, back and forth. “What?”

“Listening to someone whose mind is completely closed. Listening to someone who feeds on hate. Be better. Make decisions based on your own experiences.”

“You don’t understand.”

Chance rested his cheek against hers and inhaled deeply. “Emily, this is me giving you a chance to get to know me and make your own decisions based on the type of man you think me to be.”

“Man,” she gritted out.

“Yes,” he snarled, more growl than word as he eased back and leveled her with a harsh glare. “Because despite what you think, that’s what I am. I’m good. I care. I feel. I’m pissed at what you are doing, but every tear you’re letting slip down your face right now is gutting me. I’ve caused them for some reason I don’t understand, and I fucking hate it. I don’t know why you’re hunting me, or why you were in my den, but this is me giving you the chance to make an educated decision about me before you go down a path you can’t come back from. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“I should go,” she choked out angrily.

Chance reared back like he’d been slapped and let his hands drop from her waist. His eyes sparked with fury. “Fine. Maybe you should.”

She backed off the dance floor, afraid to give him her back. Uncle Victor had warned her about exposing a weak side to a predator, but as she put distance between her and Chance, the expression on his face morphed from anger to disappointment.

He left the floor and headed back to the table where Dalton and Kate sat, and just as Emily turned to leave, to call Uncle Victor and tell him she couldn’t do what he’d bid her to, she saw it.

Dalton laughed at something Kate said, tossing his head back as he did. And in the light of the swinging fixture that hovered over their table, something shiny glinted around his neck.

Dalton had a hanging scar.

It was healed, but red and angry looking. The rope had to have dug deeply into his throat to cause scarring like that on a shifter.

Dad had done it. He’d reached the pack and tried to end them with tradition—hanging the males and burning the females and pups in their houses. Suddenly, Emily felt sick. Talking about it with Uncle Victor and Dad was one thing, but seeing the gruesome aftermath was something different altogether.

It was a tradition as old as time, Hell Hunters hanging the soulless. But she wasn’t convinced werewolves were soulless anymore. What if they were people just trying to survive, and Dad had gone after them in the night just to hurt them? To kill them. To destroy their family.

“Oh, my God,” she murmured as she swung her horrified gaze to Chance who sat beside Dalton now, staring sadly back at her.

He wasn’t the monster.

She was.

Emily stumbled from Smiley’s and into the street, heaving frozen breath like a freight train in front of her. Her entire life, she’d been lied to. She’d been turned into a weapon by the two men who were supposed to take care of her.

Dad and Uncle Victor had convinced her she needed to stay friendless and lonely because that made her strong. They’d manipulated her into living a half-life so they could weaken her enough to use her against the shifters when they felt like pulling a trigger. She was the damned bullet!

An entire life of being told she was privileged and righteous because she was human. All of the horrifying bedtime stories about cold werewolves with no heartbeats and no feelings, but she’d seen Chance’s face in there. He felt everything. He was warm. He had a heartbeat. For fuck’s sake, he knew she was betraying him and still he’d warmed her at the bar and bartered a seat for her so she could be comfortable.

Chance was right. The worst thing she could do was listen to men whose hearts were full of hate, and what had she done? Listened to them her whole damned life! She wanted to claw at her skin and drain the Vega blood out of her, cell by cell. Disgusted with her entire life, she pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and dialed Uncle Victor. He’d already called ten times since she’d been in the bar.

“You’re late reporting in,” he said in his scratchy, sickly voice. He was on his deathbed, and that used to make her sad, but not anymore. Karma was a cold bitch, and Uncle Victor had pissed her off repeatedly.

“I’m not doing it.”

“Niece,” he drawled out in a pitying voice.

“Don’t you fucking call me that. You’re no family of mine. Not anymore. You said they hunted Dad in the night and killed him while he slept. You lied!”

“Emily, no one knows what really happened—”

“Dalton Dawson has a hanging scar, Victor. Dad did that. You lied to me. You both did. They aren’t monsters like you said.”

“Emily, you’re emotional, and it’s understandable. It’s a jolt meeting them for the first time. They’re conniving, and they have instincts on how to turn you. You have to be stronger than that.”

“Stronger? I let you and Dad turn me into”—she looked down at herself in disgust—“this thing I can’t respect anymore. Fuck your mission to hurt people. Fuck Dad’s mission. If he died at their hands, he asked for it.”

“Emily!”

She ended the call and dropped the phone in the mud, desperate not to touch it an instant more.

“Who are you?” Chance asked.

With a gasp, she rounded on him. Her teeth chattered with how much she loathed herself right now. He was leaning on the side of his cousin’s truck, head cocked, green eyes lightened, arm muscles straining against his sweater. He could kill her in an instant.

Maybe she deserved it.

“I’m Emily Vega, daughter of Emanuel Vega, and the last of the Hell Hunters.”

“Fuck,” Chance said, backing up a few steps as if she was a snake poised to strike.

He looked behind him at the bar, then back. “You can’t hurt my family. Please. Dalton’s lost a baby before, lost a mate, and he is finally happy with Kate. He’s going to be a dad. Please, just let us be.” His blazing eyes were stripped bare and so raw she couldn’t hold his gaze.

“Did you mean what you said? Does the offer still stand to show me who you are?”

“Why would you want to? Don’t you know already?”

Gritting her teeth, she dared a glance at him, then back to his shoes, an inch deep in mud. “I was told you’re different than you turned out to be, and by people I trusted.”

“Your dad?”

She dipped her chin once, feeling like her insides were ripping apart. “And now I don’t know anything. Can’t trust anything. Did you kill him?”

“Vega?”

She had to know.
Had to
. “Yes.”

“No. Dalton did. It was his right.”

“His right?” she asked in a small voice. “Vega was my dad.”

“Your dad hunted us, hung Dalton, and tried to burn Kate alive.”

“You aren’t man-eaters?”

Chance shook his head slowly. “No.”

So many lies. So many. Emily’s face crumpled as her vision blurred, and her eyes leaked for all the treachery that she’d allowed to touch her in the name of family. “I’m so sorry for what my dad has done.”

Biting her lip hard, she turned and made her way toward her ATV, but when she looked up, Chance was there, leaning against the seat with his arms crossed like he’d been there all night. She startled to a stop at how terrifyingly fast he was.

“The offer still stands.”

“But I’m…I’m…”
Evil.

“You’re a work in progress, Em.”

She liked that nickname. Em. It sounded nice in his deep timbre.

“Will you come here?” he asked, making it her choice.

She squished through the mud, her hiking boots sinking deeper with every step. When she reached him, he pulled her between his legs and against his chest. “Come inside. I’m going to buy you another drink, we’re going to dance, and you’re going to make friends with me and my pack. It’s the best way for you to see we’re like regular people, just with a bonus but complicated side that we fight to keep hidden. Then, and only then, are you allowed to judge us.”

Unable to force an answer up her tightening throat, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket and nodded. Friends. That sounded nice. Not enough, but nice. Chance sighed and pulled her closer. So warm. She’d been so wrong.

“No more hate,” he whispered against her ear. “Detox starts now.”

She swung an uncertain gaze to the door of the bar, then back to Chance. His eyes were so bright it was uncomfortable to look in them right now, and the air that had been so heavy in the bar had followed him here.

“You’re dominant, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“And a little scary.”

“Comes with the territory. You’ll have to trust that I don’t give into the animal urges.”

“Friends,” she said on a breath.

A muscle twitched under Chance’s eye, and he dipped his chin once. “Friends.”

Inflating her chest to look stronger, she said, “Okay.”

“Em?” Chance asked, pulling her hand so she couldn’t escape to the bar.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s keep who you are quiet for now.”

“You don’t want your pack knowing you’re best buds with a Hell Hunter?”

His face cracked into a smile. “Exactly.”

He had a dimple, just one, on his cheek. Heart fluttering in her chest, she touched it lightly. She wouldn’t have seen it under the blond scruff he wore at the gas station earlier. “You shaved.”

He gripped her hand so fast he blurred from one instant to the next. Holding her in place, he let off a low growl that brought chills to her skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t allow it. His grip was like steel.

“I’m not mad.”

“But you growled.”

“That doesn’t always mean displeasure.”

Heat dumped into her middle as an image blasted across her mind of them sitting on a bed, his cock buried deep inside her belly with that sexy noise in his throat. Cheeks burning, she ducked her gaze.

And now he was canting his head again, like a curious wolf who’d just seen a lamb do something strange. “I shaved for you.” Chance stood abruptly, released her hand, and strode toward the bar, leaving her to stare after him and wonder what the hell had possessed him to shave his facial scruff for someone like her.

Midway across the muddy lot, he turned, his grin downright wolfish. “Come on, friend. They’re playing our song.”

Emily listened to the notes pouring out of the bar and grinned. It was a catchy song about friends with benefits. Cheeky werewolf.

Chance leaned his weight onto one locked leg, the other relaxed and the fire fading from his eyes as he held out his hand, palm up. He cut a beautifully masculine figure there in the light of the single street lamp, silently asking her to give in and come play with the wolves.

This was the moment. This was the exact second that would change her life completely. She was picking a side and shunning everything she’d been trained to do, everything she’d been convinced to believe. She was shedding the outer shell her family had forced onto her like a shield, and she was taking a chance to get to know the prey she was supposed to be hunting.

Licking her bottom lip nervously, she tromped through the sucking mud and slid her fingertips lightly against his palm. The electric shock zinged up her forearm, causing her fingers to flinch. This time, she didn’t yank away, though, and neither did he. Chance frowned down at their touching hands, then lifted that striking green gaze back to her. Without a word, he squeezed her hand in his and led her between a pair of SUVs.

The blare of truck engines echoed down the street, and she barely resisted the urge to cover her ears from the loud, startling noise as she turned.

“Oooh, shit,” Chance drawled, a smile in his deep voice. When she looked up at him, she could see the dimple again as his eyes followed a pair of old trucks to their parking spots.

“Who are you here to hunt?”

“Uuuh, you.”

“What animals.”

“I don’t think—”

“What kind of shifters, Em. Quick.”

“Wolves. For now, just wolves.” Guilt riddled her. “The others are on the list, though.” Grizzly and fox shifters, specifically. God, she hated Uncle Victor.

“Okay, well you’re about to meet some of them,” Chance said out of the corner of his mouth as he waved to the couples pouring out of the trucks. “Have you heard of the Silvers?”

“The Silvers?” she squeaked. “I’m not ready.”

“Get ready, girl. Vera’s gonna get you so drunk.”

“
The
Vera?” The fox shifter who was single handedly garnering the attention of the late Hell Hunters by curing all the parts of werewolves that kept them manageable and their numbers in control? Double shit.

“Chance, you can all hear lies.” She was panicking, yep, yep, yep.

Chance gave her a grin. “Then plead the fifth or tell the truth.”

“But you said not to—”

“Who is this sexy thang?” a woman with perfect chestnut curls and strange gold-blue eyes asked. “Please tell me she’s your boink buddy.”

“Friend,” Chance corrected. “Vera, this is Emily. Em, this is Vera.”

Vera grabbed her hand and shook it so hard she just about rattled Emily’s bladder loose. “Good to meet you, Emily. You and me are gonna take some shots.”

“Told you,” Chance murmured as he got sucked into a bone-rattling hug from one of the giant Silver brothers. “Elyse, where’s the cub tonight?” he asked a honey-haired beauty with whiskey-colored eyes.

“Link and Nicole offered to babysit. Hi, I’m Elyse Silver,” she said through an easy smile for Emily. “That tiny man over there is my mister, Ian.” She nodded her chin toward the titan with his arm slung around a similar looking giant wearing an excited grin.

“Hey, Emily,” Ian said, then punched the man under his arm. “Say hi, Jenner.”

Through a baiting grin, Ian’s dark-haired brother repeated, “Hi, Jenner.”

“Idiots,” a dark-haired woman with auburn tips on her long tresses said with a roll of her eyes. “Ignore them, all night if you want. They’re in a ridiculous mood. I’m Lena.” She lifted a camera from her chest and flashed Emily blind with the click of the button.

“Lena takes pictures,” Vera said, bouncing up and down to stay warm and standing way too close. “She’s like our own personal paparazzi, but you’ll thank her later if she decides to bestow a picture on you. Come on, weirdos. We have drunken shenanigans to do. McBeefcake, we need tequila immediately.”

“Tobias,” the last of the gargantuan Silver brothers introduced himself in a rush as he passed, dragged heartily by Vera.

Emily gave Chance a big-eyed look, but the smile was fading from his face. “I love these people, Em. They’re good. Swear not to hurt them.”

Chance was putting on a brave face, but he still didn’t trust her, and she didn’t blame him. If he knew the type of training she’d done over the past year since Dad’s disappearance, he wouldn’t want her anywhere near him or his friends.

All she could do was take the time to earn his trust and hope it was enough to make up for the things awful she’d thought and done. She held his hands in hers and let him have her gaze so he could see the honesty there when she said, “I swear.”

The corners of his sexy lips turned up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Truth.”

“Chance!” Vera called from inside. “Tequila!”

With a deep, reverberating chuckle, Chance ushered Emily inside with his hand on the small of her back. Layers of clothing separated his touch, but still, her stomach erupted with a fluttering sensation at how close he was.
Friends, friends, friends.

Inside, the Silvers were stripping out of their warm outerwear and yelling greetings across the bar to Dalton and Kate. The coat rack was completely full by the time they headed as a small heard of freaking terrifying grizzly shifters and mates toward the bar.