Page 66 of Vicious Wolf Mate

The seedy strip mall that sits across the street, doesn’t look like much. A small, closed sign hangs on the door of the nail salon at one end, while next door, bright neon flashes from the open sign on the payday loan place.

Now leasing signs hang in the broken windows of three vacant stores and a going-out-of-business banner drapes from the storefront of the discount shoe store. The last spot in the row is occupied by a small dive bar with faded green paint. The words “an Irish pub” are all that remains of the logo above the entrance.

This defunct strip mall in the middle of the seedy section of Albuquerque may not look like much, but it hides a huge secret.

“McKenna!” I hear Mace call out to me. I turn around to face him. His mouth hangs open and his brows are furrowed, but he seems to be at a loss for words.

With his bulging muscles, fierce scowl, and the black ink of his tattoos, he looks every inch a scary, dangerous man. But I know the truth, there is so much more to him than his hard, albeit sexy, alpha exterior.

Mace’s shoulders slump and his eyes find mine, pleading. “Be careful McKenna.” He says.

Every fiber of my being wants me to run over and throw myself into his arms. Beg him to leave, to run away with me and live happily ever after. But knowing my father like I do, there will never be a happily ever after so long as he is alive.

“Let’s do this.” I say, turning on my heel and marching towards the dive bar. I hear the rumble of the engine and the slamming of the van door behind me, but I force myself to not turn around and watch them drive off.

Mace’s part of the mission will be much more dangerous.

Focus McKenna, I tell myself. My part won’t necessarily be a walk in the park either.

A little bell clangs as I push open the door to the bar. A middle-aged bartender looks up from his phone, a quizzical look on his face. I nod towards the rear of the building and he waves me off, returning his attention to his phone.

On my way to the back, I pass by a pair of drunk thugs playing a sloppy game of pool. The one currently using his pool stick to help him remain upright, whistles at me as I pass, calling out “Hola Mami!”. Normally I’d give him a piece of mind, but I’ve got more important shit to do today, so I ignore him.

I push open the wooden door with Employees Only emblazoned upon it. The storeroom that greets me is narrow and overfilled with boxes.

Navigating the maze, I find an orange shelf, third from the back, stacked with boxes labeled fragile. Hidden in a joint on the fourth shelf up, I spy it, the Insignys logo. With sweaty fingers I fumble for the latch.

With a soft click, the shelf along with a section of the wall swings inwards just enough for me to slide through. As I step through, the entryway swings shut once more, leaving me at the top of a dimly lit stairwell.

At the bottom is a door guarded by a mountain of a man, with an unmistakable bulge on his right hip. A .45 I’m guessing.

“Password?” he growls.

“Sword” I reply.

He pauses for a beat, no doubt listening to the voice on the other end of his earpiece, and then nods at me.

“Proceed.” He says simply as the door slides open.

My boots clang against the metal steps as I cross the threshold. The cold, gray concrete walls on either side make me feel claustrophobic.

After descending all 74 steps, I come to yet another door. This one is glass, bulletproof with a battalion of well-armed guards standing just on the other side.

“Place your hand in the scanner please.” An artificial voice calls out. Nervously I rest my hand on the scanner. Either I’ll be quickly waved in or I’ll need to start pleading for protection from my shifter captors.

“Thank you.” The same, not-quite-female robotic voice calls out.

I clasp my hands behind my back so the guards won’t see me fidget, though it is probably pointless since the cameras will pick it up anyways.

Finally, a low beep sounds, and the door swings open with a whoosh of air. One guard steps out from the group and motions me forward.

“Please follow me, Miss Grayson.” He commands.

Without another word, he leads me across the room to the checkpoint area. The setup here would make the TSA jealous.

Surprisingly, he walks me past the x-ray machines and full body scanners and instead waves me through a simple metal detector. After that it’s a quick pat down and then he releases me, telling me my father will meet me in his office.

“Thank you” I say as he waves me away. Shaking my head in disbelief, I make my way to sublevel two. Either I’ve gotten incredibly lucky, or my father is up to something. I keep my guard up, wary, as I pass through the mostly deserted halls.

---