Streak politics, and differences in opinions forced
Kurt Owens to choose his own path. While it may be outside of the law in many
regards he sees it as ensuring justice for the true victims of crimes when the
system fails them. It’s his way of seeing the guilty pay, and
keeping his own inner beast in check with the violence, and blood it craves.
Everyone thinks having a super power would be great. Alexa
Harold would beg to differ. She’s been cursed to see ghosts, the dead not yet
having gone to their final resting place, or judgment, or wherever they belong.
They track her down, and harass her until she’s ready to go
mad. Learning early in life what she needs to avoid has been the only saving
grace in keeping her sanity intact.
Then she sees a man who couldn’t possibly be real. It was just
her luck that such a prime specimen would
in fact be deceased. Only he
isn’t, and he’s taking notice of her. With a little temptation, some mystery,
and a taunt he leaves her wanting more.
Kurt never thought he’d find his mate outside of the streak, or streak functions. While those of a
supernatural inclination aren’t exactly rare, they have had to be
careful and keep their population down. Alexa is the woman for him the only one
he could ever want or need. And when her life is put in danger by his own past
Kurt won’t stop until everyone understands to get to this tiger’s mate, they’ll
have to get through him.
Excerpt:
Wrapping his hand around the fresh longneck the bartender slid
his way, Kurt lifted it to his lips to take a long drink. His contact was late.
Never a good sign when the guy who did all his go-between work wasn’t on time.
Especially when it was payday.
Kurt would give the man another half hour before hunting his ass
down. Any longer than that and the ditzy blonde at the other end of the bar
might garner up some courage to come talk to him. Her friends had been daring
her to since they’d caught sight of him. So far she’d resisted their urging
despite the number of hungry looks she’d sent his way.
While he had zero problems hooking up with some random,
preferably nameless, chick in a bar, that one looked like serious trouble. He
could have given anyone a multitude of reasons why. Namely he knew she was
trouble by the two thousand dollar shoes, one and a half thou handbag, and he didn’t
even want to tally up her outfit. Kurt wasn’t a connoisseur of fashion, not
even close, but he’d been around enough to start to recognize the brand names.
He had to be observant in what he did, as otherwise he’d end up dead.
He took another long pull from the bottle, camouflaging his
perusal of the group so that they wouldn’t perceive it as interest.
The blonde was downing shots. Freaking fan-fucking-tastic. If she put enough down, she’d likely
get up the courage to actually wobble over in her overpriced stilettos. Not
what he wanted tonight. He was here to get paid for the job he’d completed, and
then he was going to find a place where no one knew him to crash for many hours
of peaceful slumber.
Tensing, he felt someone getting close he let out a breath. Only
the waitress. He’d chosen the end of the bar with the wall to his back so he
could see the entire place, and so no one could get too close without him
knowing. While it sucked if he had to bail, it was tactically the wisest
location in case trouble came calling.
And blonde bimbo was making her move. Son
of a fucking bitch. She
tottered across the bar, closing the distance between them as he waved the
bartender over for another cold one. Relief crashed through him as his contact
slid onto the empty seat at Kurt’s side.
“Sorry, man, fucking accident six blocks over fucked me right
up. I’m late. I sincerely apologize. Didn’t know it was there until I was in
the thick of the shit. It’s truly amazing how perfectly decent human beings
turn into the Grim fucking Reaper when there’s a DOA at a crash. Couldn’t get a
single one of them to move enough to let me through. Fuckers all looked at me
like I was the douchebag.”
Lenny signaled the bartender when he’d finished his spiel. Kurt
gave the man a few moments to take a drink before he acknowledged him. “No
worries,” he said quietly. He didn’t bother mentioning he’d been mere minutes
from heading out to hunt his scrawny ass down. No reason to upset the little
guy unduly. Besides, Lenny knew what Kurt would do to him if the man didn’t
show up for a meet.
“I tucked it into the usual spot,” Lenny said. Which meant
Kurt’s payment was secured in Kurt’s truck in the lockbox in the back. “I may
have another gig for you. I’ll need to do some background, and check a few of
the less clear details, but I should know something in a couple of days.”
Kurt gave a slow nod. The blonde was back at the table of
idiotic sorority types downing more shots. “Shoot me a text for a meet when you
feel confident about it.”
While Lenny might give the impression of being the unreliable
sort, Kurt did trust him. To a degree. The man brokered all the deals, kept
Kurt out of it all, and ensured Kurt got paid for what he did. Doing what he
did, it wasn’t like Kurt could set up a web page and advertise. That was just
begging for a one way ticket to a ten by eight cell for
life, if not the chair.
Tipping his beer up he did another visual sweep of the place.
Movement from the end of the bar near the girls caught his attention. Son
of a … bikers, why the hell is it always bikers? Most were good guys even if they did
shit that had the law on their asses most of the time. Then there were the
wannabes who acted tough, blew smoke, and basically started shit. The guys
making lewd gestures to one another about the sorority sisters were very
definitely in the second category.
Big, scary looking, and assholes. They’d also been drinking so
it was a situation ripe, and ready to explode. Setting his beer down Kurt
turned slightly. “You may want to finish that up, and clear out. There’s about
to be trouble in here.”
Kurt was itching for a fight. His last job had gone smoothly,
too smoothly for him. He was a hands-on sort that liked to get good and bloody.
The biker assholes might finally give him a way to let off a bit of steam. And
if he happened to break a few of their bones or faces, all the better in his
mind. While Kurt’s conscience didn’t pipe up all that often, there was no way
he’d risk the guy that was his go-to man.
“Uh, shit, right.” Lenny chugged the last of his beer quickly.
He reached to his pocket.
“I got it, go.” Kurt pulled off a couple of bills to pay for his
beers and Lenny’s. The man took a cut off every job Kurt completed, which was
all of them because he was that fucking good, but Kurt still paid for his
drinks at every meet.
“One of these days I will pay for a drink, you know.”
“You can try, but we both know who has the better and faster
moves. Now go. You’re no use to me in a hospital.”
“The love and concern for my wellbeing I feel pouring off you
warms my heart.”
Hearing the sarcasm Kurt turned his eyes on the other man, and
growled. Not some pissy ass sound a human could make, but a sound only a born
predator could pull from the bowels of his gut.
Tiger's Mate is part of the Bad Alpha anthology published with Evernight
Publishing. I am honored to be part of this anthology with these other amazing
authors.
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