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Pack Challenge
By Shelly Laurenston Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Copyright © 2006 Shelly Laurenston
All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-59998-271-7
Chapter One
God, he was getting pathetic. He caught her scent as soon as she walked into the club and his entire body tightened in lust. What was happening? Zach Sheridan didn't get all bunged up over women. Ever. It was not in his nature. There were only two women he took special interest in protecting or caring about and one he called "Mom" the other he called "shithead" or "baby sis".
Sara didn't notice him, but that didn't surprise him. That grandmother of hers made sure Sara was completely oblivious to the power buried inside that sweet body.
She sat at the bar knocking back a beer in a worn leather biker jacket three times too big for her. Clearly a man's jacket. Zach's eyes narrowed when he allowed himself to wonder if that jacket belonged to some asshole. Some asshole other than him, that is. He didn't like the thought. Even as he fought it, he didn't like to think for a second Sara might be getting down and as dirty as he'd been daydreaming about lately with some scumbag. Some scumbag other than him, that is.
The music changed into good trance and a guy invited Angie to join him on the dance floor. With a wink at Sara, she followed behind him. The Mouth, as he liked to call the current object of Conall's lust, was up to her eyes in patrons, which left Sara sitting there by herself. It was like she didn't exist to these people. How could they miss her? The males of his Pack noticed her and if it weren't for him, they'd be sniffing around her right now. But the locals and the bikers acted like she was part of the wallpaper. What idiots.
Still, Sara didn't look upset. Instead, she sat on the barstool, drinking her beer and watching everything around her. Absorbing. That's what she did. No one else may realize it, but Sara had the hard, cold eyes of a predator. And it turned Zach on something fierce.
Sara let the trance music flow through her, her head moving to the beat as she spun her stool around. The music dropped and she raised her arms in the air, howling out a "woo-hoo" right along with the entire crowd as the music hovered right "there".
Oh, yeah, this DJ was awesome. The beat swung back up and the crowd roared in appreciation.
Yeah. This is what she loved. When the music took her away. Even for a little while. For a few moments, she forgot the pain, her grandmother and her less than thrilling life. She forgot it all while letting that beat move through her.
Someone sat next to her and she glanced to her left, expecting to see Angie. Instead, she saw him. Leaning back against the bar, his elbows resting on the polished wood, and his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. The man seemed to have an array of black, unknown-band T-shirts, blue jeans that fit his superb ass perfectly, and biker boots. He didn't wear much else, and God in heaven, he really didn't need to.
"Thought you weren't going out tonight," he said, raising his voice enough so she could hear him over the music but not enough for her to consider the yelling a threat.
"That's not what I said," she responded. "I said I wasn't going out tonight with you."
"And why was that again?"
"Cause I don't like you."
He snorted, it was sort of like a laugh, and went back to watching the crowd.
Christ, the man was irritating. Cute and hot and irritating.
She was seconds away from asking him why the hell he was even talking to her when a flash of gold dragged her eyes back to the dance floor. Sure enough, Angie had just stumbled back from two guys about to gut each other over her. It wouldn't be the first time. Men, especially bikers, loved to fight over Angie. Of course, the one who got her could never keep her. But no point in telling them that. They saw Angie in all her cute, gold outfits and sexy, way overpriced shoes and thought they could handle her.
When they ended up in the ER, the doctors desperately trying to figure out how to stop the bleeding, those same guys always seemed so surprised.
Sara knocked against the bar with her knuckles, catching Miki's attention.
"Angie alert."
Miki looked out over the dance floor and growled.
"Leon!" she yelled, and the bouncer was there in an instant with one of the new trainees. They grabbed hold of the men and Sara barely caught Miki in time, trying to dive over the bar with her baseball bat firmly in hand.
"Don't even think about it, Kendrick."
The two bouncers picked the fighting men off the floor and dragged them to the exit.
"Dammit, Morrighan!" Miki, grinning, slid back off the bar. "I could have taken at least one of them out and it would have been totally legal this time." She slipped the bat back to its hiding place under the bar at the same time she caught sight of Zach. "What's he doing here?"
Sara shrugged. "I don't know." Sara looked at Zach. "What are you doing here?"
"Enjoying the wonder that is Texas."
Trying hard not to laugh, Sara said to Miki, "He's learning to love our mighty state."
Miki rolled her eyes. "Whatever."
And then he was there. The big blond stalker. He smiled at Miki. "Hi."
She didn't even try and fake that particular conversation. Instead, Miki yelled, "Break!" and then disappeared into the back room, slamming the door behind her.
The blond frowned in confusion and gave his order to the other bartender.
"Fun friends."
Sara turned and faced Zach. "If I didn't know better I'd swear that was sarcasm I just heard."
"Me? Sarcastic? That's crazy talk."
"Then you fit in perfectly around here."
Zach motioned to the beer in her hand. "Want another one?" Okay, was he buying her a drink or just buying her a drink? Hhhhm. This is a new level of idiotic questions, Morrighan.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Pack Challenge by Shelly Laurenston Copyright © 2006 by Shelly Laurenston. Excerpted by permission.
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