Bodyguard
Page 36
Ronan ignored him. "So where's this champion?"
"You'll see him when you fight him. Half an hour. Ring two." He laughed. "Maybe it is a good thing you brought your bitch. She'll be on hand when you need to say good-bye."
Ronan turned away, his body language all that was contempt.
"He's up to something," Elizabeth said to him. "I mean more than trying to kill you and give me to Zach."
"Of course he's up to something," Ronan said. "He's a thief and a liar. It's just figuring out what and when." He slid his arm around Elizabeth's waist. "Half an hour, eh? Maybe he's right. Maybe I should take you into a corner and kiss you a while, just in case. We'll make Sean and Spike keep watch for us."
*** *** ***
Pablo Marquez was in the middle of a deal that could cinch him taking over the trade of the entire southern half of Texas. He could leave Austin and his sudden Shifter problem and hole up in a beautiful mansion by a lake. No more back alley body shops or too-curious neighbors in the suburbs. Solitude, a pool, and all the fine wine he could drink. He was becoming a connoisseur of the stuff.
The thin white man standing in front of him was one of the best smugglers in the business. But though the man knew how to move product, he needed someone on the street to sell it for him, and some of his Hill Country contacts had moved elsewhere. With banditry south of the border increasing, and enthusiastic vigilante border patrols keeping watch north of it, moving anything between the U.S. and Mexico, in either direction, was risky and expensive. But Pablo had the resources and connections, this man had the expertise, and they'd make beautiful money together. Pablo was going to land this.
Or so he thought, until his lieutenant's cell phone quietly rang and the man stepped into a corner to answer it. The lieutenant returned and whispered into Pablo's ear.
Pablo stopped. Julio. Son of a . . .
"Problem?" the smuggler said. He had a reedy voice but quiet strength behind it.
"No," Pablo said in a reassuring tone. "At least not for you." He gave him a wry look. "Family."
"Ah. I understand." The man's light blue gaze didn't waver. "Why don't you take care of that? I'll be back to talk later."
Which meant Pablo would probably never see him again. The smuggler wouldn't like any indication that Pablo's operation was the least bit unstable, which could equal said smuggler not getting paid. Even an unruly little brother could upset a touchy shipment. Shit.
But Pablo couldn't sit here and beg like a little girl for the man not to go. He nodded, pretending everything was cool. "Sure. You have my number. You let me know."
The man nodded. He held out a hand, and Pablo, his wrist still in a bandage, shook it.
The smuggler walked away, his thugs closing around him, and Pablo knew that was the last he'd see of him. He turned to his lieutenant. "Damn that little shit. Where did he take him? Where are they?"
*** *** ***
Ronan stripped off next to the middle ring half an hour later, but there was no sign of his opponent. Elizabeth held his clothes, hiding her nervousness. She was good at that, when she needed to be. Her courage made him warm with pride. Ronan's lips were a bit raw from kissing her outside, but he didn't mind. He hoped he'd have a chance to make them rawer later.
When the crowd parted to let through a large male Shifter, surrounded by Julio's bodyguards, Spike said behind Ronan, "Aw, crap."
"What?" Elizabeth asked. "What's wrong with him?"
So many things. First, the Shifter wasn't wearing a Collar. Second, the bodyguards weren't protecting the Shifter--they were keeping him penned so he wouldn't start fighting everyone he laid his bloodshot eyes on. Third, the man stank like holy hell.
"He's a feral," Ronan said.
"Feral?" Elizabeth's eyes widened. "What do you mean, feral?"
Spike answered. "It means his animal side is close to taking over." He wrinkled his once-broken nose. "The first thing to go is bathing."
"His animal side?" Elizabeth asked. "Because he's not wearing a Collar?"
"Anyone can go feral, with or without a Collar," Ronan said. "But it's harder with a Collar, because it tends to shock sense into you."
"We lived for centuries without Collars," Sean said, sounding grim. "And we never needed them to keep us tame. Seems nowadays, though, that most of the Shifters who refused to take the Collar are feral or heading that way."
"Great," Elizabeth said. "So not only is he feral, but he's angry because other Shifters let themselves be Collared?"
"She's got it," Spike said.
"Ronan, you can't fight him," Elizabeth said quickly. "Without a Collar, he has all the advantage."
"Too late," Ronan said. He touched her face and gave her one last, firm kiss. "I've fought ferals before, Lizzie. I can do this. This is my job."
Elizabeth looked up at him, eyes luminous, but she closed her mouth and nodded. Her expression told him, however, that she'd prefer to knock him on the head and drag him back home, and would have if she'd been able.
Shifter fights had few rules, Spike had said. Shifters could fight in whatever form they wanted, and shift back and forth during the fight if they felt like it. The only hard and fast rules were: no weapons of any kind--they couldn't hold anything at all, in fact; the fighters had to stay within the circle; and they had to fight, without rounds, until the refs decided that one Shifter was down so far it would be life-threatening for him to continue. The one who wasn't half-dead was declared the winner.
Ronan didn't recognize four of the five Shifters who stepped in to referee, but he rarely went to the other Shiftertowns in the area. He'd bet that Julio had instructed these refs to let the fight carry on past the point of no return.
Julio's bodyguards fell back, and the feral stepped into the ring. He rose to his full human height and fixed his red eyes on Ronan before he shifted.
The feral changed smoothly, almost effortlessly, and landed on all fours as a large Alaskan gray wolf.
The thing was huge. Ronan had met wolf Shifters in his area of Alaska, but he and the wolves had given each other a respectful distance. This wolf had lost respect for everything a long time ago.
Spike was spouting advice. "You can do this, Ronan. Don't try to take him down quickly--he's got the advantage of speed at the first, but you have the advantage of stamina. He'll wear down a long time before you will. Then you've got him."
"You'll see him when you fight him. Half an hour. Ring two." He laughed. "Maybe it is a good thing you brought your bitch. She'll be on hand when you need to say good-bye."
Ronan turned away, his body language all that was contempt.
"He's up to something," Elizabeth said to him. "I mean more than trying to kill you and give me to Zach."
"Of course he's up to something," Ronan said. "He's a thief and a liar. It's just figuring out what and when." He slid his arm around Elizabeth's waist. "Half an hour, eh? Maybe he's right. Maybe I should take you into a corner and kiss you a while, just in case. We'll make Sean and Spike keep watch for us."
*** *** ***
Pablo Marquez was in the middle of a deal that could cinch him taking over the trade of the entire southern half of Texas. He could leave Austin and his sudden Shifter problem and hole up in a beautiful mansion by a lake. No more back alley body shops or too-curious neighbors in the suburbs. Solitude, a pool, and all the fine wine he could drink. He was becoming a connoisseur of the stuff.
The thin white man standing in front of him was one of the best smugglers in the business. But though the man knew how to move product, he needed someone on the street to sell it for him, and some of his Hill Country contacts had moved elsewhere. With banditry south of the border increasing, and enthusiastic vigilante border patrols keeping watch north of it, moving anything between the U.S. and Mexico, in either direction, was risky and expensive. But Pablo had the resources and connections, this man had the expertise, and they'd make beautiful money together. Pablo was going to land this.
Or so he thought, until his lieutenant's cell phone quietly rang and the man stepped into a corner to answer it. The lieutenant returned and whispered into Pablo's ear.
Pablo stopped. Julio. Son of a . . .
"Problem?" the smuggler said. He had a reedy voice but quiet strength behind it.
"No," Pablo said in a reassuring tone. "At least not for you." He gave him a wry look. "Family."
"Ah. I understand." The man's light blue gaze didn't waver. "Why don't you take care of that? I'll be back to talk later."
Which meant Pablo would probably never see him again. The smuggler wouldn't like any indication that Pablo's operation was the least bit unstable, which could equal said smuggler not getting paid. Even an unruly little brother could upset a touchy shipment. Shit.
But Pablo couldn't sit here and beg like a little girl for the man not to go. He nodded, pretending everything was cool. "Sure. You have my number. You let me know."
The man nodded. He held out a hand, and Pablo, his wrist still in a bandage, shook it.
The smuggler walked away, his thugs closing around him, and Pablo knew that was the last he'd see of him. He turned to his lieutenant. "Damn that little shit. Where did he take him? Where are they?"
*** *** ***
Ronan stripped off next to the middle ring half an hour later, but there was no sign of his opponent. Elizabeth held his clothes, hiding her nervousness. She was good at that, when she needed to be. Her courage made him warm with pride. Ronan's lips were a bit raw from kissing her outside, but he didn't mind. He hoped he'd have a chance to make them rawer later.
When the crowd parted to let through a large male Shifter, surrounded by Julio's bodyguards, Spike said behind Ronan, "Aw, crap."
"What?" Elizabeth asked. "What's wrong with him?"
So many things. First, the Shifter wasn't wearing a Collar. Second, the bodyguards weren't protecting the Shifter--they were keeping him penned so he wouldn't start fighting everyone he laid his bloodshot eyes on. Third, the man stank like holy hell.
"He's a feral," Ronan said.
"Feral?" Elizabeth's eyes widened. "What do you mean, feral?"
Spike answered. "It means his animal side is close to taking over." He wrinkled his once-broken nose. "The first thing to go is bathing."
"His animal side?" Elizabeth asked. "Because he's not wearing a Collar?"
"Anyone can go feral, with or without a Collar," Ronan said. "But it's harder with a Collar, because it tends to shock sense into you."
"We lived for centuries without Collars," Sean said, sounding grim. "And we never needed them to keep us tame. Seems nowadays, though, that most of the Shifters who refused to take the Collar are feral or heading that way."
"Great," Elizabeth said. "So not only is he feral, but he's angry because other Shifters let themselves be Collared?"
"She's got it," Spike said.
"Ronan, you can't fight him," Elizabeth said quickly. "Without a Collar, he has all the advantage."
"Too late," Ronan said. He touched her face and gave her one last, firm kiss. "I've fought ferals before, Lizzie. I can do this. This is my job."
Elizabeth looked up at him, eyes luminous, but she closed her mouth and nodded. Her expression told him, however, that she'd prefer to knock him on the head and drag him back home, and would have if she'd been able.
Shifter fights had few rules, Spike had said. Shifters could fight in whatever form they wanted, and shift back and forth during the fight if they felt like it. The only hard and fast rules were: no weapons of any kind--they couldn't hold anything at all, in fact; the fighters had to stay within the circle; and they had to fight, without rounds, until the refs decided that one Shifter was down so far it would be life-threatening for him to continue. The one who wasn't half-dead was declared the winner.
Ronan didn't recognize four of the five Shifters who stepped in to referee, but he rarely went to the other Shiftertowns in the area. He'd bet that Julio had instructed these refs to let the fight carry on past the point of no return.
Julio's bodyguards fell back, and the feral stepped into the ring. He rose to his full human height and fixed his red eyes on Ronan before he shifted.
The feral changed smoothly, almost effortlessly, and landed on all fours as a large Alaskan gray wolf.
The thing was huge. Ronan had met wolf Shifters in his area of Alaska, but he and the wolves had given each other a respectful distance. This wolf had lost respect for everything a long time ago.
Spike was spouting advice. "You can do this, Ronan. Don't try to take him down quickly--he's got the advantage of speed at the first, but you have the advantage of stamina. He'll wear down a long time before you will. Then you've got him."
