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  One

  Rylee McCormick pushed her bike harder. It could take it. A pileup on I-90, one she’d narrowly escaped, had slowed her down. The sun dipped lower on the horizon with each passing second, taking what little semblance of safety daylight provided right along with its waning rays.

  She had to find cover, fast. Taking the next curve at a speed most wouldn’t dare, she willed the distance between her and her pursuer to lengthen. It wouldn’t—she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that—but that didn’t stop her from wishing for it. As soon as she came around the other side of the bend, she gunned it.

  She’d spotted the rider a few miles back, power blasting from his rumbling engine. It was fast and mean, otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to keep up with her. She could almost convince herself it was just a hot rod out for an evening ride, but the driver was as reckless as she was, taking the corners at breakneck speeds and keeping her within his sights—for the most part.

  That kind of fearless driving said the rider was either angry or desperate—maybe both—and he wasn’t afraid of dying.

  The vampire bastard hunting her had risen before the setting sun. That could only mean one thing. They had money.

  In early morning light and just before dark, leather provided adequate protection for the skin. But only the extraordinarily wealthy and powerful had access to the state-of-the-art material the helmet and visor were made of to keep vamps from frying to a crisp during daytime hours.

  Thankfully, the people she worked for didn’t have a strict timetable. They just wanted the job done. Period. Now, she was on the home stretch—almost. All she had to do was lose the vamp, find her tracker, and retrieve the hard drive. Then she could head back to Blue Creek and take a mini-vacation before she signed up for another gig.

  Slowing just enough to keep from ditching, she took another curve, but not before catching a glimpse of black and chrome. He was gaining on her. Fuck.

  A sign, illuminated by a spotlight from beneath, greeted her as she rounded the next bend. Dexter, Population 3900.

  Relief poured into her. She’d find cover for the night. An abandoned warehouse, a shed, it didn’t matter. As long as she could lock the place down, she’d take it. She had planned to contact the tracker as soon as she got into town, but that wasn’t happening. Not with the fanged bastard on her ass, drooling at the chance to suck her dry. She was all about taking risks, but only when they made sense. She didn’t have a death wish.

  Ignoring the posted speed limit, she tore through the sleepy town. Hopefully, there wasn’t a deputy hanging around. Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t stop if they tried to pull her over. She might as well sign death warrants for both of them if she did that.

  Dodging a pothole bigger than her Ducati’s front tire, she spotted her saving grace down the road with two bay doors open wide and light shining from inside. She aimed straight for it. The small-town garage wasn’t ideal, but as long as she could reach it before the one chasing her came into view again, she’d figure it out.

  A one-hundred-watt smile and a bit of cold hard cash could convince just about anyone to pretend they hadn’t seen a thing.

  She took the driveway faster than a sane person would. Her bike lurched, but Rylee kept control over the uneven ground. She came to a screeching stop on the cracked cement floor. Not bothering to look for whoever might be working, she knocked the kickstand into place before hopping off the bike and rushing to the entrance. The metallic rattle of chains sounded loud in the garage as she slammed the first bay shut.

  ***

  Niko Garcia heard the roar of the motorcycle long before it came barrelling down the road. What kind of idiot ripped through town like that? He’d have to let Jaxon know that a reckless kid was driving around like his ass was on fire at night.

  Mrs. Bartle’s car was ready a couple of hours ago, but she’d begged for him to let her get it after work. Otherwise, he’d be home right now, enjoying a cold one on his back porch—or better yet, out in the forest running his wolf—instead of locking up at half past seven in the evening. The tired nurse had just left.

  A single headlight came around the corner.

  Jesus. They were rolling. He waited inside the bay. He’d get a bike description and maybe a plate number. The Alpha would want to talk to whoever that was, and in a town so small, it shouldn’t be hard to ID them.

  He wiped his greasy hands on the towel he’d slung over his shoulder, watching as the biker took the driveway to the shop at breakneck speed rather than flying down the street. The motorcycle bounced hard, but it kept coming.

  What the hell? With a loud screech and an impressive show of fantastic control, the rider came to a stop inside the bay, not twenty feet from him.

  Leaning against the workbench, he watched as the woman—there was no mistaking she was female—killed the engine and jumped off the bike before bolting for the garage door. Without hesitating, she grasped the chain and yanked, slamming it shut. She was about to dash for the other when a second motorcycle came tearing around the corner at the end of the street.

  The woman whipped around, then froze as she spotted him. The exhaust from her bike still had him nose blind, but her posture screamed of fear.

  Without saying a word, he crossed over to the open bay door and pulled it shut. Until he figured out what—or whom—she was hiding from, and why, he wouldn’t send her packing.

  Striding to the waiting room they used to keep customers out of their hair while they worked, he flicked off the lights. The other bike had come to a stop in the driveway and was idling there. Leaving the lights on would only create suspicion.

  He glanced at the woman. She’d backed into a corner, out of view from anyone who might try peeking through the tiny windows. She needn’t have worried. They were so caked with dirt and grime that no one would see inside. With a nod, he closed the door behind him, leaving her in the dark.

  Niko took his time locking up, using those precious few seconds to assess the threat. A cool breeze blew, carrying the harsh smells of oil and exhaust. Another few minutes, and he’d be able to use his nose again.

  In black and chrome, the BMW K1200S was a sight to behold. Had it been one of his pack mates straddling that bike, he’d have tossed him off and gone for a spin himself. It was too showy for him but still pretty. The big man sitting atop it, not so much. He lifted his visor. His red, bloodshot eyes said one thing. Mess with me, and you die. The sharp tip of his fangs protruded from beneath his top lip, announcing him for the bastard he was. Vampire.

  Niko shuddered in disgust.

  “Did a pink bike come through here?” the man hissed the question through clenched teeth, his eyes watering as he squinted at him. The sun was almost gone, but not quite. Exposing even that bit of skin to the waning light had to hurt like a bitch.

  “Came ripping through a minute ago. Was gunning it hard. Most likely heading out of town to the interstate,” Niko lied, pointing the way.

  A muscle ticked next to the vampire’s left eye, then without saying anything more, he flipped his visor down and shot out of the yard, sending gravel spraying behind him.

  Dumbass. The vamp had just covered the tracks that would have shown him exactly where the woman was, had he been smart enough to look down.

  Two

  Rylee waited right where the man had left her. There was no mistaking that he’d assessed the situation and decided to play along. At least, for now. The only light left shining was the one leading to what she assumed was a waiting area for customers. Had it not been for the plexiglass window on the wall next to the door, she wouldn’t have been able to see a thing.

  The rumble of the motorcycle had her heart pounding. If the vamp had figured out she was there, it would rip that man’s throat out and then come looking for her. She held her breath, not releasing it until the engine revved and gravel spattered against the garage door.

  A long workbench with tools scattered over the top lined the back wall. The smells of oil, metal, and exhaust clung to the air even though an industrial fan did its best to suck it out. It wasn’t fancy, but it would do. If she were lucky, she could convince the owner to let her hang out until morning. She doubted there’d be a soft surface for her to sleep on, but she’d slept on a cement floor before. She’d survive. At least there had to be a bathroom in here somewhere. As much as she enjoyed roughing it from time to time, she appreciated indoor plumbing.

  She took a deep breath. Might as well be ready with a killer smile. She’d stand a better chance if she softened the guy up right from the start. Tugging her helmet off, she shook out her hair, letting the long strands free, before hanging her helmet on the handle. She caressed the cool bike like a lover playing her man’s body. Her fingers stroked the pink fuel tank before sliding over the soft leather seat, still warm from where she'd been straddling it mome
nts before. From what she could tell, it hadn’t suffered any damage during that wild ride.

  “Care to tell me why a vampire is chasing you?”

  She jumped back at the deep baritone only a few feet from her. How the hell had he snuck up on her like that? Part of the reason she was so good at retrieval was that she never missed a damned thing—like a grown ass man coming into a room.

  One dark eyebrow quirked up as he crossed his arms over the vast expanse of his chiseled chest. The gray Beatles T-shirt covering it did nothing to hide his form, something she appreciated. The sleeves barely contained the bulging muscles as he flexed. Yummy with an extra helping of caramel sauce.

  He took a deep breath and froze mid-step. His nostrils flared, and he narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked.

  A second later, his momentary pause forgotten, he came closer.

  “You can call me Kate,” she said, resisting both the urge to back up and the need to get closer.

  “I could. But I asked for your name.”

  He didn’t stop until no more than a foot separated them.

  Swallowing what little saliva she had left, she looked up at him. She stood five-foot-six—an extra two inches added for her boots—and he was still at least six inches taller. “Rylee,” she croaked out, shocking herself with the admission. She’d meant to say, “Kate,” hadn’t she?

  “That’s better. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on so we can get out of here before that vampire figures out I lied and comes back to have a snack?”

  ***

  Unwilling to risk raising suspicion in case anyone else showed up, Niko had snuck in through the back and come up the hallway leading from the bathroom. He was glad he hadn’t shut the window earlier when it had drizzled.

  The first thing he needed was the woman’s story. From there, he’d decide what to do with her.

  Tall and slender, with curves in all the right places, she was his walking wet dream in black leather. Every part of her, from her form-fitting jacket to the ass-hugging pants and all the way down to her knee-high, buckled boots stirred something primal inside him.

  She took her helmet off and hung it on her bike, shaking a mass of light brown hair free, and with it, the sweetest smell he’d ever had the pleasure to experience. His wolf came to full attention. His blood flowed south, making his cock ache. Mine, the beast grated at him in his mind.

  Her lie soured the air, but not enough to dull her underlying scent. Niko sure as shit wasn’t going to call her anything but her actual name. He asked again.

  “Rylee,” she whispered as she peered up at him.

  Rylee. That suited a badass biker chick a hell of a lot better than Kate.

  “I’m sorry to have involved you. The less you know, the better off you’ll be,” Rylee said with a straight face.

  The absurdity of her trying to protect him had him barking out a laugh, startling them both. “How about you try again?” She may believe every word she’d said, but that wasn’t going to fly. Not with him. Not where she was concerned. Both he and his wolf agreed. They would keep their mate safe from any enemy. Including a filthy vampire.

  She gave him a smile that lit her entire face—except her eyes. She was good. “If you could point me to the nearest hotel, I’ll bunk down for the night and be out of your hair.”

  Stubborn. Okay, he could deal with that. “Nope, still not the right answer. One more try,” he suggested expectantly. He didn’t want to get Jaxon involved, but if a vampire was going to terrorize the town he and the Wassookeag pack protected, he needed to know why.

  Rylee huffed and perched a hand on her hip, staring him down. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning. Like that would intimidate him. There were only two people he submitted to: his Alpha, and Maple, his Alpha’s new mate. This one—his mate… He could stare into her hazel eyes all damned night and not have the slightest urge to look away.

  “I’m in Dexter to meet someone to help me with a job,” she finally admitted. “The vamp is here to try and stop me.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. And even better, he liked where this was going. “I hear Blue Creek is lovely this time of year,” he said, watching her reaction to the words. If she was the one Aric Wolfe had given him the heads-up about, his tracking job was looking better by the second.

  Rylee’s eyes widened. A smile blossomed on her face, this time making a dimple appear on her right cheek and her eyes sparkle. “It really is. And the locals are very friendly.”

  He stuck his hand out, resisting the urge to pull her body flush against his. “Niko Garcia, tracker extraordinaire. Pleased to meet you. Looks like we’ll be working together for the next little while.”

  Three

  Rylee couldn’t believe it. The only luck she usually had was the kind she created for herself. It was what had seen her rise from homelessness to the woman she was today, self-sufficient and independent. That, and the fact that she was damned good at what she did. She may only be human, but she was better at retrieving than most wolves. People tended to pay well for the best when they wanted something bad enough. This time, Lady Luck had seen fit to land her right in the hands of the tracker she needed to pair up with. Add to that the fact that the man was sex on legs, and life couldn’t get much better.

  “Let’s get out of here. We can go over the details while we eat dinner,” Niko suggested.

  Her stomach growled at the mention of food. When had she eaten last? Had she had lunch today? Her gaze automatically flitted to her bike. She didn’t leave Ursula alone in a strange land. Ever.

  Niko followed her gaze. “I have room in my trailer. Give me a sec to pull it up, and we’ll get it loaded.”

  Her heart fluttered. Could the man be any more perfect?

  He disappeared through the same door he’d gone to deal with the vamp, and a minute later, gravel crunched just outside. Another minute went by, then the garage door lifted.

  “Get into the cab of the truck, and get down. If the vampire comes back, I don’t want him seeing you,” he instructed.

  Her heart raced a little faster. The man was gorgeous, but that wasn’t happening. “No one handles Ursula but me,” she blurted out.

  His lips twitched as he fought—and lost—against the grin creeping onto his face. “Ursula?”

  She shook her head and grinned back at him. Damn him for being so good-looking. “Yes, that’s her name. And I’m the only one who handles her. Ever.”

  His chest shook, and a chuckle broke free. “Why Ursula?”

  “Because she’s pretty and pink, and she’s a badass that will chew you up and spit you out if she doesn’t like the looks of you,” she told him, repressing a chuckle trying to break free.

  “What if that person has great respect for fine machinery and will handle her with the utmost care?”

  “Not even then.”

  He sighed and looked both ways down the street. “Okay, let’s load Ursula up. I’m warning you, though, you put a scratch on Boris, and we’ll have trouble.”

  Now, she really couldn’t hold her laughter back. “Boris? Really?”

  Niko grinned and shook his head. “No, not really, but my Scout was feeling left out being the only one with no name.”

  She smacked his arm before going back for her bike while he lowered the ramp. It only took a couple of minutes to secure Ursula. Niko hadn’t moved more than two feet away from her the entire time, and she was beginning to suspect he had a sniffing fetish. Each time she was close enough, he breathed deep and his nostrils flared. Once, she thought she heard him moan.

  She’d looked at him, and he’d shrugged like he hadn’t a care in the world and didn’t mind that she’d caught him smelling her. Realization hit.

  “You’re a wolf, aren’t you?” she asked, her heart pounding against her ribs.

  Niko tilted his head to the side, assessing her. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  Shit. A problem? No. At least, not in the way that he might think. The truth was, she was a bit obsessed. She’d never been with a shifter, but it was a recurring theme in her fantasies. But not just any shifter. A strong wolf shifter always played the starring role.

  ***

  The faint smell of Rylee’s arousal spiked, driving Niko—and his wolf—crazy. Had they been at a scenting ceremony, he’d have fallen to his knees and buried his face in her leather-clad crotch by now. Hell, he’d have gotten past that point and had her naked so he could scent her properly even though the smell of his woman and leather was intoxicating. His cock jerked at the idea, making his jeans uncomfortably tight.