The Wild Moon by Riley Storm

Chapter Thirty

“I still don’t understand why I’m here helping you,” I complained as we exited his car and headed down toward the waterfront. “I’m paying you. You’re supposed to do all the work.”

Aaron shrugged. “I need someone to keep watch. Have my back. My normal guy isn’t back yet, and if you want to move faster, this is the way it has to be.”

“I’m not your thug,” I growled.

“Really?” he shot back. “Because the other day in the ring, you beat that other guy rather handily. It was impressive.”

“That was different,” I said, declining to explain as to how or why. I had emotion on my side that day. Johnathan deserved that ass-kicking. “Besides, these guys could have guns.”

“They won’t,” he said with a confidence that surprised me.

“We’re at the docks. How can you be positive nobody will have guns? This place is seedy as hell,” I told him.

We walked along the sidewalk, headed toward a cluster of buildings. On our left, the commercial docks were fenced off by a ten-foot-tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Stacks of shipping containers as tall as small apartment buildings loomed over us, the sparse lighting creating a wild play of shadows and darkness.

Above them, the lifeless cargo cranes lay still, like ancient beasts in silent slumber, looking down over their territory. The gentle lapping of water against shore could be heard if I focused hard enough, along with the soft groaning of thick ropes as a giant container ship rocked against the dock.

In the daytime, this place was bustling, alive with energy and the calls of dockworkers. At night, however, it was eerily empty and deserted. I listened carefully to my instincts here, even with Aaron at my side. At one point, the hairs on the back of my neck rose, but looking around, I couldn’t see anything that would cause alarm.

The faded lights of several dockside taverns and shops greeted us as we approached one of them, The Winking Scow.

“Such imagery a simple name can evoke,” I muttered. “I just know this is the one you’re going to take us into. Isn’t it?”

“I can’t surprise you with anything, can I?” Aaron said. “Remember, watch my back. Stay out here.”

The way he said that, with the quiet belief that I could protect him, made me pause and consider. Did Aaron know what I was? Could he possibly be aware of the existence of shifters? Or did he just want to make me work for this trip as a way of protesting the short departure time?

Infuriating. The man is infuriating.

Yet, whenever I was around him, the drumming of the Soulbond–long since grown above the gentle pulsing it had started with–was diminished. Not erased or cut off, but dulled. Easier to resist. Like he was a constant source of cold water being poured over me. I appreciated that immensely, which was why I wasn’t too upset about helping him.

I eyed the outside of the Scow, noting the half a dozen lookouts lounging around at tables or leaning against the wall. All of them were trying to act innocent or occupied, but it was clear they were there to keep unwelcome guests out.

“Nah, I don’t think I’ll be waiting out here like your butler,” I growled, surprising Aaron with a burst of speed as I walked past the lookouts–several of whom rose to try and stop me–and pulled open the door to the bar, walking inside.

I paused.

My wolf’s vision let me penetrate the deep gloom of the bar with ease. Most of me wished it didn’t.

Very quickly, I noted I was by far the youngest and least well-traveled woman in the room. None of them turned to look at me, but many other heads did. Eyes dulled by alcohol and other substances stared at me, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt dirtier in my entire life than in that single moment.

I tried to look past them. I wasn’t afraid of any of these men. If I needed to, I could fight my way out of the bar, but it was unsettling to be the object of attention to so many men in the decrepit bar.

It had been nice once, I’m sure, long ago. The giant beams running crosswise were huge and reminiscent of a time when wood was the material of choice for building. A horseshoe-shaped bar stuck out from the back wall. A sunken pit on the left was crammed with tables and rough-looking types. Half the lights had gone out over it, and the few remaining were centered over a poker table.

To my right, more tables and some booths ran along the exterior and crowded the interior. A couple of doors on the right-hand wall might have been bathrooms, but I doubted I wanted to find out their current state. My mental sanity was already stretched thin.

Behind me, Aaron entered. Eyes turned to him as well. Dressed in his typical suit, he stood out almost as much as I did. At least I had the smarts to wear a black jacket and black pants.

Aaron had chosen his cream-colored suit again. In a place like this, it made him a prime target. I was going to have my work cut out for me.

Yet, as he walked by me, the crowd parted, letting him through like fish before a shark. And make no mistake, Aaron was a dangerous shark. I still didn’t understand how, yet, but his arrogance wasn’t born of money. It was born of competence. Everyone just knew not to mess with him because it wouldn’t go well for them.

I went to follow, but the crowd was already closing in behind him.

“I’m with him,” I said, pointing.

They didn’t care.

This was a test. I’d told Aaron I could handle myself, and now he was letting me show him.

Fine. I can handle a test.

I started forward anyway. The closest drunk, a man probably in his thirties but looking twice that thanks to substance abuse, came at me, leering at me with a grin that was missing at least five teeth and breath that could stop a T-rex in its tracks.

“Hey, honey,” he said as he came close, reaching for my chest. “How much for the night?”

I let him take a step closer. Then I grabbed the outstretched arm, pulling him in even as I turned and drove an elbow into his stomach before standing up sharply, my shoulder catching him in the jaw.

The drunk dropped like a sack of fish and heaved his stomach out onto the wooden floor, adding to the mix of other liquids and substances.

I was really glad I hadn’t worn nice shoes. If I’d stepped in here in a pair of Louboutins, I’d have a much harder time restraining myself.

“Next one gets a broken bone,” I said to the assembled crowd. “Dealer’s choice on which. I’ll break an additional bone for everyone after who tries to touch me.”

The crowd parted for me, revealing Aaron’s back as he headed toward the sunken pit.

That’s what I thought, I said as I strode forward, head held high, my wolf howling in victory.

I stopped at Aaron’s side, looking past him. He was watching the poker game with interest. Four characters were playing, not including the dealer.

The leftmost was a pockmarked, salty old man with skin that bespoke a lifetime on the sea. Probably a fisherman. He wore a black slicker jacket and had a ratty old Yankees hat.

To his right was a younger man with the look of a construction worker, down to the hi-res vest he wore. Probably a dockworker, I surmised, noting the safety boots and slightly higher quality of his black sweater, not to mention the fact he looked like he had all his teeth.

“That’s our man,” Aaron said, nodding to the third player. “Jaxton, my quartermaster.”

Jaxton had black hair that was gelled into a spiky look, reminding me of a popular boyband hairstyle in the early years of the new millennium. He wore a black turtleneck and fingerless gloves. He was also holding a pair of nines and had another pair of sevens with one of the cards on the draw.

“Come back later,” Jaxton said, without looking up. “I’m busy.”

“We can’t,” Aaron told him. “We’re leaving in two days now. Time to get to work.”

Jaxton sighed. The final card was overturned, and it was another nine. He was going to win the hand, I thought.

“How many?” he asked as the bets went round. Jaxton raised by several large chips.

“Seven,” Aaron replied.

I frowned, assuming they were talking about people given this was his quartermaster, Aaron had another four members of his team. How many employees did he have? And why did he need them?

“Seven, okay. Where?”

“Mountains. Same as previous,” Aaron replied, the two of them having half a conversation.

“Okay, I’ll get it done,” Jaxton said, laying down his hand. “Now, leave me alone. I’m on a win streak here.”

The player to his right laid down four aces. “Not quite.”

“This is all your fault,” Jaxton said, still without looking up at Aaron as the other player, a hardy man with the look of a ship captain, swept up the chips on the table. “You ruined it for me. I expect a bonus.”

Aaron chuckled, then turned to me. “Okay, time to go.”

I followed him outside. There was no trouble this time from any of the patrons. Nor did the lookouts bother us. I guess if we came out in one piece without causing a fight, they assumed we were okay.

Aaron kept walking. He was heading up the sidewalk, back toward his car.

“Wait a second,” I said, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around. “That’s it? That was all you came here for?”

“Yes,” Aaron said indifferently.

“We could have fucking called him,” I spat.

“He doesn’t have a phone.”

“You don’t need me for this,” I said, my voice dropping to a growl as I got into his face. I didn’t care how sexy he was, how dangerous he might be. I didn’t like being used.

He didn’t flinch. Now that was confidence, though of course, he didn’t know I could tear him limb from limb if I wanted to.

“No,” he said calmly, his blue eyes staring at me unblinking. “I didn’t need you, you’re right. I did, however, need to see just how committed to this you are. This won’t be an easy journey.”

I backed off slightly. “It’s camping and exploring in the mountains. How difficult could it be?”

Aaron gave me a long look as if to tell me I should know better. How much do you know about everything? Not for the first time, I had to wonder just how well-informed Aaron was. And who had told him I was in town in the first place? Had he been keeping tabs on me?

“How can I trust you?” I asked. “How do I know you’re not lying about my father?”

“Now that is a fair question,” he said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Here. Look at these.”

I waited while he unlocked the device and then handed it over to me. It was an image gallery. Of him and my father. Together. Smiling. Laughing. They were all taken out in nature.

“Your father was a good man,” Aaron said. “I valued his friendship. You have nothing to fear from me. The choice is yours whether you will trust me or not, however. If you do, meet me tomorrow in the warehouse district just up the road from here. I’ll text you the address. If not, then we’ll consider this thing canceled.”

He took the phone and walked into the night, leaving me alone.

“I notice you didn’t say anything about a refund,” I called after him.

It was a good point, though. Was I going to trust him, or wasn’t I?