The Werewolf Meets His Match (Nocturne Falls Book 2) (2 page)

But the woman’s soft cry of pain pulled Ivy’s attention back. The man had a hold of the woman’s wrist. She tugged but was unable to free herself. “Please, Jimmy. Let’s just go home and—”

“And let that idiot ruin my vacation?” Jimmy’s voice got louder, drawing a few stares, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I don’t think so. I’m going to stay here and have another beer, and you’re going to shut your mouth and stop flirting with other men, or I’m going to teach you a lesson, you understand me?”

Ivy’s hackles went up.

The woman nodded, her eyes filled with the kind of old fear that told Ivy this wasn’t new behavior on the man’s part.

She didn’t wonder why women stayed with men like this. She knew. Even smart women sometimes found themselves in bad situations they couldn’t see their way out of. And smart didn’t always equal brave. Her mother was still with Ivy’s father after nearly thirty years.

Patsy had stood up to Clemens once that Ivy could remember. Ivy had been eight or nine and she’d wanted a new bike of her own, not one of her brother’s hand me downs. She wanted a girl’s bike with pink streamers on the handles and a pink seat. Her mother had forced the issue with her father and ended up with a split lip and a loose front tooth. She’d never disagreed with Clemens again after that. Not for her own sake or her daughter’s. Didn’t help that Clemens Kincaid was an exceedingly powerful man. The alpha of the Tennessee pack.

This guy in the Red Man cap definitely wasn’t an alpha anything and he definitely didn’t look like a mover and a shaker, but then neither did Clemens. Her father’s typical uniform was a dirty t-shirt and trucker jeans. But this guy in front of her gave off a real wannabe vibe. He just seemed like a lowlife who made himself feel like a big man by shoving his girlfriend around.

The woman chewed her lip and looked around the room from under the fringe of her bangs, and for a split second, she made eye contact with Ivy.

Ivy held the woman’s gaze, but the woman bent her head and broke the contact after a long second.

Jimmy caught her movement and whipped around to see what she’d been looking at. He stared at Ivy. She stared back, unable to keep the challenge from her gaze. She wasn’t about to be intimidated by a human.

He grinned and winked.

Apparently, he’d mistaken her dead-eye stare for flirting. She rolled her eyes and washed her last bit of grilled cheese down with her beer. How typical. Another guy looked at his girlfriend and it was a criminal offense, but if a woman looked at him, it was open season to flirt right back.

A cheer went up at the pool table closest to her as the eight ball sank into a pocket, ending the game. She stepped forward to claim her spot, happy for the distraction.

Another beer and two wins later, she was ready to call it a night. Pool hadn’t taken the place of a good, hard run, but it had filed the edges off the need. She returned her stick to the rack and was about to head out when a commotion erupted behind her.

She whipped around to see that Jimmy had apparently shoved his girlfriend into one of the pub tables, spilling the drinks and knocking over a chair. His girlfriend was still on the ground.

The edges of Ivy’s vision went dark, tunneling down to a narrow point that focused on the man who’d just put his hands on a woman. She glared at him, then walked over and helped his girlfriend up. “You okay?”

The girlfriend nodded, but was holding her arm like it hurt.

“What’s your name?”

“Sandra.”

“Sandra, you know you need to leave him.” Ivy couldn’t stop herself from saying it even though she doubted it would make any difference.

“I can’t,” Sandra whispered. “We have a kid.”

Ivy’s anger notched up. “Even more reason.”

Jimmy grabbed Sandra’s other arm, but his gaze was on Ivy. “You stay out of this, you hear me?”

Ivy stood at eye level to Jimmy. She laughed in his face. “Unfortunately for you, chump, I’m not the kind of woman you can boss around.” She leaned in. “You hear me?”

Jimmy muttered a curse and yanked on Sandra’s arm, tugging her away from Ivy. Ivy let her go. Not her circus, not her monkeys.

Sandra said something to him about Ivy only trying to help.

Jimmy responded by slapping Sandra, causing her to cry out and a few other patrons to gasp, but no one made a move to help.

Ivy frowned as the circus became impossible to ignore. She stepped into Jimmy’s personal space, anger funneling through her. “Touch her again and I’ll lay you out.”

He snorted. “You’re cute until you open your mouth, and mouthy women need to learn their place. Why don’t you find your way to the kitchen and make me a sandwich?”

“I already have one for you. Tastes like knuckles. Try it.” Ivy hauled back and punched him in the eye. “Whoops. Missed your mouth.”

The combination of her shifter strength and his clear inability to believe she’d actually hit him resulted in Jimmy going down hard.

He shook his head and struggled back to his feet a few seconds later. His eye was already starting to swell. His mouth twisted into an ugly sneer as he charged after Ivy, curses flying. She dodged him. A table went over. Glasses broke, beer spilled. He grabbed a pool stick and swung it. Ivy caught it and snapped it in half. A woman shrieked. Jimmy charged again and the next few minutes were a blur that ended in both of them getting handcuffed and hauled out of the bar by a pair of deputies.

Outside, Ivy and Jimmy were separated to opposite sides of the parking lot. Ivy got the female deputy. Her name plate said Blythe. Supernatural, but what kind, Ivy had no clue.

Blythe seemed a mix of perturbed and bored. “You have an ID on you?”

“Nope,” Ivy lied. It was tucked deep in her boot. Any shifter in this area who knew anything knew the name Kincaid. The last thing Ivy wanted was her father getting involved in this. He’d no doubt find out soon enough, she just preferred that happened after it was all said and done.

Deputy Blythe sighed as she walked Ivy toward a nearby squad car. “Shifter, right?”

Ivy nodded. “Mm-hmm. What are you?”

Blythe ignored the question. “What happened?”

Ivy told her how things had gone down in the bar.

Blythe nodded while taking notes in a tablet. Finally, she closed the notebook. “All right.” She opened the back door to the squad car and pointed. “In.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not yet.”

Ivy got into the car and the deputy walked away, probably to check on Jimmy. Ivy tipped her head back and stared at the car’s headliner. Wouldn’t be the first time she’d been arrested. Spending the night in county wouldn’t be that big of a deal either. It would save her the trouble of spending what little money she had on a cheap motel. But they’d fingerprint her and, soon enough, figure out who she was.

Clemens Kincaid did not need to know his daughter, the child he already considered a huge disappointment, had gotten herself into trouble again. But if she didn’t text him soon that she’d arrived, he’d get worried. Not about her, just that his big plan wouldn’t come to fruition. That wasn’t enough to make Ivy dig her phone out, though. Not yet anyway.

Maybe she could use her one phone call to reach out to Sam. Her younger brother had always had a soft spot for her. He might help. And be willing to keep it a secret from their father. Although lately, Clem’s influence had started turning Sam cold toward her.

Maybe she wouldn’t call anyone. She took a deep breath, trying to exhale the constant ache created by her messed-up life.

The car door opened. Deputy Blythe stood there. “Bad news. According to both your accounts, you struck first and Jimmy’s pressing charges.”

“Of course he is, even though he came after me with a pool stick. What’s the good news?”

“He’s drunk, so we’re charging him, too. And because we don’t like a long blotter in this town, you’re both going into holding and then we’ll reassess in the morning.”

“Thanks.” Ivy knew she was being thrown a bone. She’d happily gnaw on it.

The sheriff station was small, but had three holding cells. The deputies were smart enough to leave the empty one between her and Jimmy.

As they were booking her, she saw the sheriff’s photo on the wall and read his name on the placard beneath it. That’s when she realized just how deeply she’d stepped into it. Her heart sank. Any sense of hope, of a chance for a new start and a better future vanished.

The sheriff’s name was Hank Merrow.

The same name as the man she’d come to marry.

After a long day of providing escort for the US Marshals Service, Hank pulled his duty car into the driveway to find another vehicle already there.

The Mercedes belonged to his parents, but they hadn’t said anything about coming to visit. A sense of foreboding settled deep in his gut as he parked. His time with the Army Rangers had honed his already sharp shifter senses, so he knew when something bad was about to go down. He steeled himself for whatever that might be and went inside.

His parents had used the key he’d given them and were sitting in his kitchen, having coffee.

His dad sat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. He gave Hank a nod and lifted his cup in greeting. “Son.”

Hank nodded back. His father looked well. “Dad.”

“Hank!” His mom smiled and gave him a big hug. “How are you, honey?”

“Good.” His mother wasn’t giving off any stressed vibes either. Maybe his gut had been wrong. That would be a first. “I didn’t know you were coming. Have you been here long?”

“No, just a little bit,” his mother answered. “Are you hungry? Did you just get off work? You don’t have a thing to eat in this house. Did you have dinner at Howler’s?”

“Belinda, leave the man be. He just got home.” Griffin Merrow shook his head. “You’re as bad as your sister, woman.”

Hank kissed his mother’s cheek. “Yes, I just got off work, and yes, I ate at Howler’s. That’s why I’m home so late.” He glanced at his father. “Since you mentioned Aunt Birdie, are you staying with her?”

His mother raised her brows. “Is that your way of saying you don’t want us?”

“It’s my way of asking if you need the guest room.”

“We do,” his father answered. “But we’ll be out of your hair first thing.”

Hank retrieved a beer from the fridge, popped the top and leaned against the counter. “Quick trip. What’s going on? Has to be important if you drove down.”

“It is.” Griff twisted the bar stool away from the counter to face his son. “You want to talk in the living room?”

Hank shook his head. His gut
hadn’t
been wrong. It was reassuring. To a degree. Depended on what the news was. “I’m good here.”

“All right.” Griff sighed. “You know that our pack owes a debt to Tennessee.”

“Yes.” Hank already didn’t like the direction this was going. A decade ago, through a strange twist of events, Hank’s younger brother, Titus, had been in a car accident in the Smoky Mountains. Through another strange twist, the alpha of the Tennessee pack had been on the scene and saved Titus’s life. And so the debt had been created.

Griff crossed his arms. “That debt has been called. With conditions.”

“You’ve been in talks with Clemens Kincaid?” The man might have saved Titus’s life, but he was a criminal. Hell, his whole family was nothing but thugs. Moonshiners, gun runners, gamblers, they made their money skirting the law. They gave decent shifters a bad name.

“Yes. Talks he initiated. He wants a truce.”

“I’m sure that’s not all he wants.”

“It’s not. He wants me to allow their bourbon to be sold in Georgia.”

“It already is.”

“Technically. He wants me to lift the ban.”

“That’s not such a big deal.” Bourbon and auto parts stores were the Kincaids’ two legit businesses. Griffin Merrow had declared Kincaid bourbon off limits to all weres in the state of Georgia, which meant not only did shifter-owned stores and bars like Bridget’s not carry it, but with Griffin’s influence neither did a lot of human-owned places. “Bridget won’t like it. You want me to talk to her?”

Griff nodded. “Sure. But that’s not why we’re here.”

Hank sipped his beer. “What do you need me to do?”