Rhyannon Byrd - Dark Wolf Rising

So the Lycan knew who he was. Good. He could use it to his advantage.

Anxious to get inside and find her, Eric deliberately ran his gaze over a tall, busty brunette who walked past the club’s arched entryway, balancing a tray of shot glasses on one hand. “I’d think my reason for being here was rather obvious,” he said, slanting the bouncer a knowing smile.

The guy snickered. “What’s the problem? Can’t get any in your hometown anymore, now that your old man turned psycho?”

Eric fought to hold his hard smile in place, but it wasn’t easy. Slipping the bouncer a crisp hundred-dollar bill, he lowered his voice. “Let’s just say that I’m bored with the usual fare I get back at home. If I was looking for something a little less…tame, would this be the place to find it?”

The Lycan didn’t so much as bat a lash, but Eric knew he’d caught the guy’s attention. The seconds stretched out while the bouncer’s steely gaze bore into Eric’s, looking for the trap. Finally, he gave a low grunt and moved off his padded leather stool. After checking him for weapons with a quick pat down, he told Eric to take a seat inside the club and order a drink, saying that someone would come by to talk to him within the hour.

Uncertain whether or not the bouncer had bought his story, Eric walked through the high arch that separated the entryway from the main room of the club and tried not to wince. But it wasn’t easy. Why Chelsea’s little sister would have ever been willing to serve drinks here, he couldn’t understand. It wasn’t as cheaply decorated as a lot of the clubs he’d seen, but there was no mistaking the heavy desperation that hung in the air. It slid against his skin like a damp, sickly caress, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He could only imagine how it made Chelsea feel.

Wanting to rip the place apart until he found her, Eric forced himself to slide into a chair at a table hidden in the shadows at the far side of the room, to the left of the raised stage where five glassy-eyed human females were slowly gyrating their naked bodies in time to the deep, throbbing rhythm blasting through the sound system. Despite the early hour, over a quarter of the tables surrounding the stage were already full, the clientele a mix of werewolf and human—a fact the humans were no doubt oblivious to. The Lycans seemed to come from a wide variety of packs, though he was thankful he was the only Silvercrest in the room. Eric recognized a few of the Lycans as belonging to the Whiteclaw clan, and suspected they were there to keep an eye on things. Either that, or to broker the deals for whatever illegal activities the Donovans were running at the club.

As he sat with his back to the wall and scanned the room, Eric had what could only be described as a seriously bad feeling. It didn’t escape his notice that while the clientele were a mix of human and Lycan, the strippers and servers were all human females. And young ones, at that. It was like watching a group of baby seals unknowingly swim through shark-infested waters. A crap idea no matter how you looked at it.

The Whiteclaw, it seemed, were treading a dangerous line in their new partnership. Since the pack didn’t have any Bloodrunners, any infractions of the laws that governed their kind were the responsibility of the nearest packs: the Silvercrest and Youngblood. If they were harming humans, deadly measures would have to be taken. If they were simply exploiting these women for money, then they’d be watched to make sure things didn’t go too far.

And since the Donovans were a part of the Youngblood pack, there probably wouldn’t be any help coming from that quarter. Rumor had it that the Donovans had been buying off the Youngblood Runners for years, lining their pockets with serious amounts of cash to look the other way. Jeremy and the other Runners had asked the Silvercrest pack’s leadership to authorize an investigation into the matter too many times to count, but Eric’s father had made sure the requests were always denied. Now it looked as though it would be an issue that came back and bit them in the ass.

Hell, at this point, Eric wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that his father had been on the take, as well.

One of the servers finally approached his table, carrying an empty tray. She had an edgy, worried look about her, and a quick glance at the name tag pinned over her right breast had Eric leaning forward in his seat. His nostrils flared as he caught a faint trace of Chelsea’s scent lingering on the girl.

“Maggie?” he said, before she could ask him what he wanted to drink. Her eyes went a little wide at the urgency in his voice, and he tried to dredge up what was hopefully a reassuring smile. “I’m not going to hassle you. I’m just hoping you can give me some information about a friend of mine. Her name is Chelsea. You spoke to her yesterday, about her sister.”

The instant he mentioned Chelsea’s name, the girl’s face went white. “Please,” she whispered, starting to tremble. “I can’t—they’ll hurt me if I let her go. I wanted to, but they—”

“Shh. It’s okay,” he told her, making sure to keep his expression easy, since he was the one facing the room. But his pulse was rushing like a goddamn freight train. “Lean down toward me a little, like you’re flirting. That’s it,” he murmured, hoping like hell he could get her to cooperate. “All I need to know is where she’s at. Can you tell me where they’ve got her?”

Though she looked terrified, she managed to place one shaking hand on his shoulder, understanding the need to put on an act for anyone who might be watching them. “She’s in a room in the back of the club. If you go to the men’s restroom, there’s a door at the end of the hallway, on the right. Go through it, into another hallway, and then use the first door on the left. That’s where you’ll find her.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I don’t know what it was, but Curtis and the others gave her something that knocked her out. I tried to wake her up, but she isn’t moving.”

Hearing that she’d been drugged made him want to howl with fury, but Eric forced a laid-back grin to stay on his face as he pressed her for more details. “Are any of the doors locked? Or alarmed?”

She shook her head a little. “No. I don’t think so. But they’ve got a bolt on the room she’s in. It’s on the outside, so you’ll be able to open it.”

It was nearly impossible not to stand up and demand to know where he could find the bastards who had drugged her, then locked her in a room, so he could rip their fucking throats out, but he managed to choke it back. Barely. “What about the back exit?”

“It’s guarded like the front one. But I’ve heard that there are other ways to get out of the building.”

“You mean like a hidden exit?”

Maggie nodded. “I don’t know how many, but I’ve heard some of the other girls talking about them. I guess the owners use them when they want to get out without anyone seeing. But I don’t know where they are.”

“That’s okay. You’ve helped me a lot,” he said, determined not to lose control, even though he was seething inside at the thought of Chelsea being at the mercy of Curtis Donovan and his buddies. He’d never had much contact with Curtis, but he’d heard the twenty-something Lycan was a troublemaker. Whatever they had planned for her, it wasn’t good.

“I’m going to get her out of here, Maggie. But whatever happens, don’t tell anyone that we talked about her. As far as they need to know, if you’re asked, all I’ve been doing is hitting on you. If you sense any trouble, get the hell out of here. In fact, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave this place and never come back.”