Caleb Page 2

  Sarah shook her head. The last thing she needed to be thinking about was some roughneck kissing her. She chalked that up to needing to have something inside her other than her own fingers.

  Her cheeks burned. She hoped that nothing on her face gave away what she’d been thinking about.

  “Do you have any suggestions?” Sarah said, averting her gaze. “I’m just kind of blocked from stress.” And maybe not getting laid, but she wasn’t going to say that.

  “Think outside the box,” John said.

  Sarah shot him a death glare. “I swear to God that I’m going to kill the next person who says that, even if it’s Professor Harris.”

  John laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “Seriously, it’s not like it’s 1950. Do something dramatic. Embed yourself with some useful contacts. Think about some of the people they talked about the other day in that seminar who embedded themselves in high-crime housing projects or hung around criminals. A little rough mixing in the name of science isn’t a bad thing.”

  “Not like you’re doing something like that.”

  “Hey, I’m not interested in learning more about criminals. That’s your jam.”

  Sarah sighed. “Maybe I’m just not as brave as those guys, and what if I end up in some precarious situation?”

  John waved a hand. “Look, you’re a small woman. Some bikers aren’t going to want you to help beat a guy up, but you can hang out around a few and take notes. Tough guys love bragging to women about their lives and how badass they are. If anything, you’ll have an easier time of it.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to become some biker babe. I want to make sure that I maintain a professional distance in all of this.”

  John waggled his finger. “You’re thinking about this the wrong way. You don’t have to go to the bikers. You just need to go somewhere the bikers will come.” He shook his head. “Look, Sarah, you’re not going to be able to complete your thesis just reading things in the library. You’re going to need some field research. If you want to know about outlaws, and learn something new about them, then you’re going to have to take a few risks.”

  She sat up, now more interested. “You’re right. I suppose I could start hanging out at biker bars.” Her cheeks heated. “Yes, I’ve never been to a biker bar even though I’m researching outlaw biker culture.”

  “That’s a possibility,” John said. “But I got one better for you. A way to find some contacts but still feel safe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a place opening up in June in Glendale.” John chuckled. “They’re calling it Devil’s Den. Word is online that it’s definitely going to be biker-friendly, but they are still renovating it. Since it’s a new place, it’ll be a good place to find informants or contacts, and no one’s going to freak out if someone’s new, or run you out right away because they think you don’t belong.”

  “Devil’s Den? Not exactly subtle, huh?”

  Sarah wondered why she hadn’t heard of it, considering that she did spend time on a lot of local forums discussing biker and motorcycle club culture. It probably had something to do with the fact she’d been buried in reading the last few weeks.

  She’d even spent her recent twenty-fifth birthday reading research materials. Not exactly the most exciting birthday she’d ever celebrated.

  Sarah sighed. When she’d quit her job at a local non-profit to go to graduate school, she’d always imagined it a lot more glamorous. Epic intellectual debates, stunning insights into the nature of society. A few glasses of wine followed by deep philosophical truth.

  Sure, she knew there would be reading, but she hadn’t expected it’d be almost nothing but reading. And ramen. Lots of ramen.

  John was right. She needed to get out in the field, and more than just in the few survey classes she’d taken. The only person who could make her graduate school experience worthwhile was herself.

  Sarah offered John a smile. “So tell me a little bit more about this Devil’s Den.”

  Chapter Three

  Caleb polished the dark wood of the bar and surveyed the empty room. Plenty of tables. Plenty of chairs. No customers at that moment, despite the nice and clear June night. He didn’t even need much in the way of AC.

  When they’d first moved to the Valley of the Sun, he’d not thought it was that different than LA. But now that the summer had hit, he knew he was in a true desert. Triple digits during the day, but more pleasant seventies during the night. It’d take a little while to get used to, and he was sure the next couple of months would suck more, but he didn’t regret the move.

  Greg had stopped by a few more times, but otherwise they’d not had much contact with other shifters, let alone the True Sons. That was good for business. He wanted human customers, not shifters, dragons, or otherwise.

  A steady but small stream of customers had shown up since the place had opened. The fact that they served food did let them pick up some people on lunch.

  He wasn’t worried. They always had more people at night. Everything so far was going great. It’d taken them only two months to get the new Devil’s Den ready, and business had been solid, if not heavy in their first week of operation.

  Sure, he’d been expecting a rougher crowd, but money was money. Caleb had no complaints.

  “We need a few hot waitresses,” mumbled Thomas from the other end of the bar. “What’s the point of a bar without hot waitresses?”

  Caleb glanced down at the other man. The huge, brown-haired bearded man was one of the few in the pack larger than Caleb, and the oldest in his late thirties.

  Thomas was a great fighter, but he thought with his fists, not his head. He’d actually been forced out of his old pack after a failed challenge against their alpha, but he’d never shown Caleb anything but loyalty in the year he’d been with him.

  “No waitresses until we’ve more firmly established ourselves,” Caleb said. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, and we can’t just trust any random humans.”

  Just as he finished speaking, a gaggle of college students burst through the door. He knew that because he recognized most of them from the previous weekend. They all went to a local community college.

  A fresh-faced blonde in a sun dress waved to Caleb. He didn’t recognize her.

  “I’m twenty-one tonight,” she yelled, “and I want to get shit-faced.” The men and women around her all cheered. From what he could tell, she was already a little drunk.

  Caleb and Thomas exchanged smirks.

  “Take a seat,” Caleb said, “and we’ll start bringing your beer. You want to get shit-faced on your twenty-first in my bar, then you should drink beer, not girly shit drinks.”

  The blonde giggled, and again her crowd cheered, and they sat down around a few tables. The girl was cute enough, but she just wasn’t his type.

  Caleb and Thomas filled pitchers of beer and delivered them to the table, along with frosted mugs. They headed back to the bar and watched as the college students started pounding down drinks.

  “You think I have a chance with any of them?” Thomas asked as they stepped back behind the bar.

  “Seems like same number of men and women,” Caleb said.

  “I could kick any of those scrawny runt’s asses,” Thomas said with a sneer.

  Caleb snorted. “Try not to beat up any of our customers. Unless they really have it coming.” He nodded over at a dart board on one side of the room and then the two pool tables on the other side. “Maybe chat ‘em up and challenge them to darts or pool later.”

  An enticing scent floated into his nose, like flowers, fruit, and sweetness. Great smelling. “No fucking way.”

  He and Thomas both let out quiet growls at the same time.

  Caleb’s attention shot to the door. Another woman entered. She had long black hair and blue eyes. She’d gone aggressive with her make-up. Her bright red lipstick contrasted with her pale skin. Tight leather pants hug her legs and ass loving
ly, and she wore calf-length black boots, and a black mesh top over a tube top that did more than enough to show off her glorious cleavage.

  He suddenly found his pants far too tight.

  “She’s mine,” Caleb said, and let out a low growl.

  Thomas grunted and grabbed another couple pitchers of beer to take to the table.

  Besides being a sexy little thing, the new woman’s scent was clear as day. She was Blooded, a person who carried werewolf genes. Considering female werewolves were never born, the only way to breed a new werewolf was to mate with a Blooded.

  One of the reasons he pulled the pack out of LA was struggles over known Blooded. Everyone wanted something that was in short supply, and he didn’t think it was good for his newer pack.

  Many cities had known lineages, protected by their related shifters. There were few packs in Maricopa County, and it was a fast-growing area, so it meant there was a greater chance of finding stray wolf Blooded.

  He growled, pushing some memories away from his time in LA. He’d made some hard choices, maybe choices that would haunt him later, but he’d sworn he wouldn’t live his life obsessed with mating.

  At that moment, Caleb didn’t give a shit about mating or kids, but her scent woke his cock, and he wanted to plant himself inside her. He took a deep breath. Given the way his body was reacting, she must have been fairly pureblooded.

  Despite the fact she looked more like the kind of woman he wanted to see in his place than Buffy the drinker over at the table, the new arrival shifted and rubbed her hands together, obviously nervous.

  The woman looked around a bit, shifting the strap of her purse over her shoulder before making her way toward the bar. She sat her little perky ass down on a stool.

  He almost growled again at the way the black leather curved around her perfect ass.

  “A Dos Equis, please,” she said, her voice soft.

  The woman’s voice surprised Caleb. He’d expected something rough and husky, not so soft and innocent.

  Thomas approached the bar and glared at Caleb before reaching over to grab a broom and head toward a hallway leading to the bathroom. Whether it was out of jealousy or because he didn’t want to cockblock his alpha, the end result was the same.

  Once the bottle of beer was in front of the woman and opened, Caleb said, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

  “I’m Sarah,” she said with a smile. “I live in Tempe, actually. I don’t get out to the West Valley all that often.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sarah.” He offered her a wide smile. “I’m Caleb. I own the place.”

  Sarah sipped her beer, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have those lips around something else.

  “It’s a nice place,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder. “A bit different than I expected.”

  Caleb leaned over the bar. “Oh?” he said, his voice low.

  Her breath caught, and her pupils dilated. “I… heard this place was more a biker hangout. I guess I was expecting it to be rougher.” Her pale cheeks turned scarlet. “I… uh… sorry.”

  He shrugged. “That’s what I was going for, but money is money. Though we get that sort, too.” He stared at her for a moment. “You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who goes to biker bars.”

  “I… well… why do you say that?” She glanced down at her clothes. “Something about my outfit?” Uncertainty colored her voice.

  Caleb smirked. So she was trying too hard to look the part, after all. “Call it a hunch.”

  “Are you a biker?”

  “Me?”

  Sarah licked her lips. “You do seem like, I don’t know, you have this air around you.”

  He didn’t care if she was just some tourist looking for a little fun with a wolf, a hot, little Blooded like Sarah wasn’t someone he was going to let walk out the door.

  Caleb gave her a lopsided grin. “I know some guys. Sometimes we can get rowdy. We don’t cause trouble for anyone who doesn’t have it coming. We just don’t ride.”

  “I’d really like to hear more about that,” Sarah said. This time her voice was husky, but there was something obviously forced about it.

  Not that he cared. She didn’t need to do more than moan and pant for what he had in mind.

  “I’d like that—”

  The door slammed open, and three huge men in leather jackets covered in patches stomped in, glaring. Caleb’s head snapped in their direction.

  Shit. Talk about crappy timing.

  The gathered college students all murmured to each other as they watched the new arrivals.

  An earthy smell assaulted Caleb’s nose. No doubt about it. The new guys were werewolves, and they weren’t from his pack.

  One turned, revealing that on the back of the jackets were two crossed axes over a skull and fancy lettering. It was hard to read at a distance, but he still could make it out: True Sons.

  Thomas rushed toward the bar. A back door opened, and Malcolm stepped out as well. Caleb nodded to Malcom, and he disappeared back through the door. A few seconds later, he re-emerged with a younger blond man: Jace, another member of their pack and their primary cook.

  Four on three. Good odds if something happened.

  The tallest of the three new arrivals, a dark haired, dark-eyed man with olive skin glowered at Caleb.

  The man inhaled deeply and pointed at Sarah. “Something smells nice in here. Very nice.”

  Sarah started trembling.

  Caleb let out a low growl at the sight. “What do you want? And who the hell are you?”

  “Jake Silvestri. You know who I am? I know who you are, Caleb Drake.”

  “I know who you are. You lead the True Sons.”

  Sarah let out a little yelp of surprise. She rubbed her hands over each other while she trembled.

  “Yeah, I do,” Jake said. “And you didn’t ask our permission before building this shithole.”

  “Fuck you,” Thomas yelled, taking a step forward.

  Caleb held up a hand, and Thomas backed off.

  “I don’t need your permission,” Caleb said. “I talked to who I needed to talk to. I don’t ask for permission from the likes of you.”

  “This is True Sons territory,” Jake said, scratching his chin. “And you’re being mighty disrespectful, but maybe we’ll let you off without trouble if you, uh, help us with our charity.”

  “What charity is that?”

  “The True Sons Fist Relief Fund.” Jake gave him a wicked grin. “You see when we punch people, it makes our fists hurt. So it helps if people pay us, so we don’t have to do that.”

  Caleb snorted. He suspected Jake was used to screwing with normal human business owners, and it’d been a while since he actually rumbled with other werewolves.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” Caleb said, keeping the anger out of his voice. Every part of him wanted to slam a fist into Jake’s face, but there were too many humans around to get rough.

  “Good,” Jake said.

  Chapter Four

  Stupid John.

  The graduate student had told Sarah to check Devil’s Den out and convinced her it’d be helpful for her research. She’d finally worked up the courage, thinking it wouldn’t be so bad, and now she was watching two men all but ready to have a pissing contest. For all she knew, an actual, literal one, and that would be the least of it if she were lucky.

  Learning about outlaw biker culture from library research suddenly seemed a lot more appealing.

  After all, it’d been only a few minutes since she had entered Devil’s Den, and now it looked like she was going to get caught in the middle of a violent brawl. At least no one had pulled out a gun yet.

  What were the chances? She’d not heard anything about actual trouble at the place, and the minute she stepped inside, trouble followed. She wasn’t sure if that made her lucky or unlucky. At the least, it’d be a chance to gain some valuable insights into the culture. Assuming she didn’t get seriously hurt alon
g the way.

  Sarah swallowed and glanced between Caleb and Jake. Her trip was just supposed to be a little scouting mission. She was supposed to pick up a little information and maybe score some interview questions with a few people to help her figure out the best way to further her research.

  Now Jake Silvestri was in the bar. She’d heard of him and the True Sons. The only thing she didn’t understand is how such a violent thug managed to avoid jail. It was almost like someone was protecting him for some reason. She wondered if he had some sort of connection to higher-level organized crime.

  “If you don’t want trouble,” Jake said with a wicked grin. “Then how about that charity donation?”

  Caleb snorted. “Just because I don’t want trouble doesn’t mean I’m going to bend over for you, asshole.”

  Sarah sucked in a breath, trying to calm down. The worst part wasn’t the fear, but more how Jake had totally blown the scorching hot tension she’d had with Caleb. She liked her men big and brawny. As much as she hated to admit it, she even found Jake hot in his own threatening way.

  Though, despite all the mountains of manliness in the room, something about Caleb’s easy demeanor made her center warm a little and her nipples stand at attention.

  “Bad attitude,” Jake said, shaking a finger. “You might have to pay for that on top of the charity donation.”

  The rough voice of the biker cut through Sarah’s fantasy. She wouldn’t be getting lucky with a man straight from her dreams later. She’d probably be filling out a witness statement at the police station. She only barely managed to avoid a groan.

  The other customers hurried for the door, concerned looks on their faces. They might have liked the rough vibe but apparently didn’t want to deal with the men responsible for it.

  Sarah thought about getting up and rushing out but decided it’d be stupid to leave. She wanted to research outlaw biker groups, and she was going to see them in action first-hand, however unpleasant it might be. If she couldn’t even handle being around a biker brawl, she might as well go tell Harris she was ready to quit her PhD program.