Page 13 of What a Wolf Demands

Sophie piped up. “It might be the city, too. It’s hard to get a scent with so many humans around.”

New Orleans certainly had plenty of humans. “Still,” Dom said, “experienced Trackers shouldn’t have that much difficulty running a lone female to ground.”

“A latent female,” Remy said. “And by all accounts, a feral one. Be careful, Dominic.”

Dom let a smile touch his lips, but there was no humor behind it. “I think I can handle a hundred-pound female with no trouble.”

“I don’t know,” Remy murmured, another spark of humor in his voice. “When it comes to females, troublesome things often come in small packages.”

His grunt, followed by soft laughter, probably meant Sophie landed another hit.

She spoke, her tone dripping sarcasm. “If you want to make misogynistic jokes, you should probably steer clear of phrases like ‘small packages.’”

“Are you hearing this, Dom?”

Across the street, the bus pulled away in a belch of black exhaust. Its long side with the ghost ad slid past, revealing a woman standing on the curb. She wore a scowl and a small backpack slung over one shoulder. Worn jeans hugged her long legs, and a tight black T-shirt emphasized her rounded chest. As the bus moved down the street, she stuck her middle finger in the air, aiming it at the departing vehicle.

“Dom?” Remy’s voice seemed to come from a distance.

Dom leaned forward, his gaze on the woman. Afternoon sunlight caught her red hair, turning it to fire.

“Dom.”

The woman jabbed her finger into the sky one last time, then spun and entered the bar at her back. Dom pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, then zipped his leather jacket.

“You there?”

“No.” Dom got out of the car and shut the door. “I’ll have to call you back.” He ended the call over Remy’s sputtering objection, then shoved the phone in his back pocket and headed across the street.

Because if he wasn’t mistaken, Lily Agincourt had just fallen into his lap.

2

What an asshole.

Lily wrenched open the door of Jay’s Place and stomped inside, hitching her backpack higher on her shoulder as she went. The self-closing hinge caught, and the door slammed at her back, sending a whoosh of warm air over her bare arms.

“Whoa, there. Take it easy.” The amused, masculine voice came from a shadowy alcove just inside the door.

She sighed and turned toward it. “Hey, Harry. Sorry about the dramatic entrance.”

“No problem, babe.” He perched on a rickety barstool, a broad smile on his bearded face.

Well, perched wasn’t really the right word for it. At well over six foot five and pushing three hundred pounds, Harry didn’t perch on anything. His bulk made him an excellent bouncer. A single raised eyebrow was usually enough to make even the most belligerent drunk stand down.

He winked. “Rough start this morning, sweetheart?”

“You could say that.” She moved farther inside, and the smell of beer, pizza, and rotting wood washed over her. Jay’s Place was a true dive bar, complete with dim lighting and scarred tabletops. Free of the bells and whistles other bars used to lure tourists, it catered to a small but loyal group of locals. The lack of tourist foot traffic meant the owner had a hard time attracting bartenders—a dilemma that had worked in Lily’s favor. Her “interview” had consisted of having a pulse and the ability to pour beer from a tap. He’d hired her on the spot.

He also paid in cash.

Harry unfolded his arms and smoothed his black ponytail, revealing a labyrinth of tattoos on his arms. “What happened?”

I withdrew money from an ATM. Because I’m a freaking idiot.

She glanced at the main seating area, where a smattering of patrons watched the replay of a football game on a flat screen mounted high on the wall. They paid her no attention, but she lowered her voice anyway. “I didn’t have any money on me this morning. The bus driver wouldn’t let me ride, so I had to run inside a convenience store and withdraw enough cash for the fare while the other passengers waited. It was more embarrassing than anything.”

And stupid. And dangerous. Mostly dangerous.

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