After tossing in some laundry she’d cleaned the already tidy house and paced an hour away. Fed up with herself, she’d driven to the bar, figuring an hour or so with the rowdy patrons would have her running back home in no time.
Rock music, though kept low in deference to sensitive shifter ears, could be heard through the heavy wood door. She pushed it open and paused just inside, letting her eyes adjust to the dim interior. She’d expected to see shifters at the various tables, laughing, shouting, drinking, eating, and basically having a good time. What she didn’t expect was a crowd lining the half-wall that separated the pool tables and dart boards from the general dining area. While no laughter was evident, occasional shouting punctuated with sympathetic groans and the sounds of fists hitting flesh did fill the air.
Unable to see over the throng she inched up to one of the waitresses that currently stood on a chair to peer over the crowd. Lisa looked down at her and blinked in surprise. “Jackie! Uh, what are you doing here?”
Jackie narrowed her eyes. While she didn’t visit Thirio’s Keep often, the shock in Lisa’s expression wasn’t warranted. And it made her suspicious. “Thought I’d come in for a beer.”
“Oh.” Lisa’s pretty blue eyes sparkled with wary amusement and she hopped down. “Well you sit down right here and let me get you one.”
As if Jackie was blind as a bat and deaf to boot. “Why don’t you instead tell me what’s going on in there.”
Lisa bit her lip. “Well, uhm. There was a disagreement.”
Another thud followed by a shout of encouragement. “There’s a fight, Lisa. Want to tell me what started it?”
“Not really.”
“Dammit, Lisa. It sounds like someone’s getting pummeled to death.”
“More than one actually.” At Jackie’s stern look Lisa blurted out, “look, it’s not like Eddy and his cronies don’t deserve it. They been acting like asses for months now. Jackson’s tossed them out of the bar twice already for being jerks. They promise to behave and within weeks they’re being disrespectful again.” She tilted her head to the bar where Jackson was calmly drying some glasses. The man didn’t look at all concerned, which did little to reassure Jackie.
“Who are they disrespecting? You? Dean?”
At Lisa’s wide-eyed and unwavering stare Jackie frowned. “Me?”
The waitress shrugged. “Eddy was throwing darts, talking smack about all the women and when your name came up, he laughed—and not kindly mind you—and said no one could pry your legs open with a crowbar. And then suddenly that Zan was up and out of his chair, a knife wedged in the dartboard. Next thing you know, they’re going at it. Zan and Eddy and Eddy’s idiot friends.”
“What?” Squawking in outrage, not only at Eddy’s comment—because yeah, that deserved a thrashing or three—but the fact that Zan was fighting when he was still trying to recover from being shot. Not to mention he was probably outnumbered. In that moment, it didn’t matter what Jackie thought of Zan. He wasn’t operating at a hundred percent and Eddy or one of his pals might decide to fight dirty. They could kill him.
Heart pounding in her chest, Jackie followed Lisa’s example and stepped onto a chair. “Good Lord. Zan is fighting against three men.”
“Huh. Was five.” Jackson had strolled up behind Jackie.
“Five!” Jackie never took her eyes off Zan. “And no one thought to step in and stop it? Or help him? Or something?”
“Zan’s a dominant shifter, Jackie. He wants to be part of this pack, he needs to prove himself.”
Jackie tore her gaze from the fight and stared at Jackson. “Are you all insane? New members don’t fight for pack hierarchy. Besides it’s not like he’s sticking around. He has a life across the country.”
“True,” Jackson paused. “But as Dean’s brother, if he doesn’t prove his strength, or comes out looking like a submissive, it might reflect on Dean’s ability to lead the pack.”
Jackie could only shake her head at the idiocy of males. “And you think five to one is fair?”
Jackson ran his tongue over his teeth. “Well now. When Zan’s friends didn’t jump in to help, we all sorta stepped back to see what he’s got.”
In the back room, Jackie saw Zan flip a man over his shoulder to crash on top of a pool table. Now two were left. Jackie watched Zan’s every move, awed despite herself by his athletic grace, ripple of muscle and efficiency of motion. The man made no unnecessary strikes. Every jab was well placed and provided just the right amount of power for maximum damage. But to Jackie’s trained eye, she could tell he was tiring, and a tiring wolf would lash out harder, possibly kill someone. Even if he didn’t, even if he kept his beast under control, if this didn’t stop soon he would be back in her bed, and not the one in which he starred in during her naughty dreams.