Chapter One
“Fuck!” Kontra snarled, taking in the approaching road sign. “I hate detours.” Payson snickered. “Awe, it ain’t that bad, boss,” the hyena shifter teased.
Snorting, Kontra turned his torso and glared at Payson over his shoulder, although they both knew there was no heat in the look. After so many years of riding his hog, it was easy keeping his balance as he twisted his body.
Payson just laughed harder.
Kontra couldn’t stop his snort of mirth. His friend always seemed to be able to cheer him. Of course, the crazy shifter also managed to irritate the hell out of him on occasion, too, so it evened itself out, mostly. But still, Kontra appreciated the man’s humor.
Seeing another orange sign, Kontra slowed his bike and prepared to follow the directions. As he made the turn to the right, he grumbled, “How many small towns do you think we’ll have to creep through this time?”
He loved seeing the countryside by taking the smaller highways and bi-ways that crisscrossed the nation. Unfortunately, that also meant a detour could take him and his buddies out of their way. The sights were often pretty though.
“A six pack says less than three,” Payson quipped.
Kontra grinned. “All right, you’re on. Four or more towns and you owe me,” he replied.
“Nice,” Payson chanted, clearly thinking he was going to win the bet.
Although Kontra really hated detours, especially when he had somewhere to be, like he did then, he didn’t comment as first one town then two towns crept by. As he watched the third appear on the horizon, Kontra wondered what his pack mates were doing.
He talked with Adam, a white tiger shifter, and Sam, a large Texas longhorn bull shifter, every few days. He’d learned that Yuma had found a human mate, and he was eager to meet the guy. Yuma deserved some happiness. Kontra knew more about the little penguin shifter’s history than the small shifter thought.
It wasn’t common knowledge that Yuma had worked as a prostitute for several years before Adam found him and removed him from the streets. Adam and Yuma had joined his gang when Kontra had discovered Adam shoplifting bandages and healing supplies after Yuma had been gay bashed. It had taken the poor shifter almost two weeks to recover due to broken bones and internal bruising.
Kontra’s smile turned feral as he remembered the eye-for-an-eye revenge he’d paid on the humans responsible. Yeah, sometimes being a bear shifter rocked. When they stopped at the one-andonly stop sign in the little town, Kontra turned and grinned at Payson.
“At the next town, we’ll stop for supper,” Kontra told him.
Payson grinned back. “You just want your beer.”
Shrugging, then grimacing, Kontra reached up and rubbed his shoulder. Not long ago, guards had shot him in the shoulder while he was protecting a friend. At least the guy had lived, which was more than Kontra could say for the men shooting at them.
They’d thought the facility had housed shifters, who were being experimented on, but by the time they got there, the facility had been emptied and all that were waiting for them were several guards. Kontra hated traps, but not as much as one of the other guys. Jared, a human who was best friends with the man who’d been shot, had blown up the building in retaliation.
At first, Kontra had worried it would draw attention to them, but when the news ran it as an electrical fire, he’d been relieved. He didn’t even want to know how the human had made the explosion look like faulty wiring had caused the blaze. Kontra didn’t plan to admit that to anyone.
He and Payson drove on and thirty minutes later, the next town appeared ahead of them. Kontra grinned at Payson, where his pack mate rode next to him. “Time for that beer,” he said.
Payson snickered. “Sure, boss. We stayin’ the night then?”
“If they have a decent motel,” Kontra replied, his gaze sweeping the horizon. Just as he finished saying the words, they reached the first house, then rounded a bend in the road. “Well, well,” Kontra murmured, his brows ratcheting up a notch. “This place is bigger than I thought.”
A small town opened up before them in the tiny valley between a couple of good sized hills. The speed limit dropped as they approached the outskirts of town and Kontra took in the rustic, small-town feel. They passed antique shops, eateries, a bookshop, several motel options, cafés, and bars.
Kontra slowed and turned his Harley into the parking lot of a motel that looked to be in good repair. After lowering the kickstand, he pulled off his helmet, rested it on the gas tank between his thighs, and ran his fingers through his shaggy silver-tipped, dark hair. He re-tied the shoulderlength hair with the elastic band and swung his leg off his hog.