Reconciliation by Lisa Oliver
Chapter One
Luka Sterling stood just outside the hospital doors, pulling the tie out of his hair, and taking deep breaths of the early morning air. The sun was only hinting its arrival, the sky brushing soft pink and gold over the town’s rooftops. It was November, and the chilly night temps could still be felt in the air although the clear skies suggested it would get warmer as the day went on.
Tugging his coat around him was a habit rather than a necessity as Luka hurried to his car. Twelve hours he’d been working the emergency department which was eleven hours and fifty-eight minutes too long. His few deep breaths of clear air weren’t enough to clear his nose of the stench that came from too many drunk idiots who thought getting behind a wheel was a good idea.
Fumbling for his keys, Luka’s only thought was to get away from the hospital and find somewhere he could let his wolf out. It meant driving a way out of town – Great Falls wasn’t a big town when compared to some in California, but it was spread out. Natural wolves were evident in various spots in Montana, but the recent new hunting laws, allowing for snaring, wolf-baiting, and no kill limit on the number of wolves taken meant Luka took his life into his hands every time he let his wolf side out.
I seriously need to start thinking about moving again, Luka thought as he started his car, backed out of his space and headed out of the parking lot. He still had three months left to run on his contract, but Luka was starting to think staying wasn’t worth the risk.
As he went to pull out onto the road, he caught a glimpse of something coming towards the car. Luka slammed on his brakes. A big man, dressed in dirty jeans and a torn flannelette shirt, who appeared to have blood pouring down his face collapsed against his driver’s door. Luka wound down his window. “Are you all right?” Luka tried to open his door so he could get out. “Sir, I’m a doctor. If you can just move away from the car…”
“He’s a doctor. That’s what we was looking for.” The man leered as he pulled out a gun from under his shirt, pointing it in Luka’s face.
“Worked just like you said it would.” Luka turned in his seat to find his passenger door open and a guy who could have been the first guy’s brother, sans blood, pointing a rifle at him. “Get out of the car.”
I’m not even in my shifted form, god damnit. Keeping his hands high, Luka slid out of his now open door. “My bag…” he gestured towards the trunk of the car. “If you need me to help you…”
“Bah, this is nothing.” The first guy wiped at the blood on his face. “Not even mine.” He grinned showing a chipped front tooth. “But yeah, Daryl, grab that bag. Doc’s going to have some stitching to do.”
“Look,” Luka said desperately as he was herded towards a van idling on the side of the road. “If someone’s hurt, they need to be in the hospital. I can take you in… if you don’t have insurance, it won’t matter. Just let me…”
“Get in the van.” Luka felt the prod of the rifle in his back. “I ain’t got no problem shooting out your kneecaps, boy – you don’t need them to stitch anyone up.”
Luka hesitated for a split second. His wolf was just under his skin; as a shifter he was a lot stronger than he looked and could move faster than most humans too. But he couldn’t beat a bullet. One from a handgun maybe, but two guns pointing in his direction was a risk too far. There were cameras around… someone would notice his abandoned car… climbing into the van, he hoped they kept his head uncovered so he could keep an eye on where he was going.
“Sit.” Daryl climbed in after him. There was only one seat, and his captor was already in it. Folding his legs as best he could, Luka sank to the floor. The back of the van was littered with old rags, a rusting toolbox and bits of thick rope that looked like they’d been cut. Nothing useful in other words.
Blood splatter guy jumped in the front, slamming the van into gear as he slammed the driver’s door shut. “It worked. We fucking did it. Am I good, or what?” The van jerked as it pulled onto the road.
“Look, guys, if you tell me what’s going on…”
“You don’t need to know nothing.” Daryl hefted his rifle in his hands. Luka didn’t know a lot about guns of any kind, but he hoped like hell that thing had a safety catch. Swallowing hard, Luka looked towards the front of the van again, but from his position on the floor he couldn’t see anything but the brightening sky. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, Luka prayed his captors wouldn’t search him. If he got a chance to use his phone… Guess I have to wait for that chance. Bracing his feet against the uneven floor of the van, and leaning back against the side of it, Luka kept his breath even and waited.
/~/~/~/~/
It was the middle of the afternoon, and Seth was in his usual spot in the back of the bar, a pitcher of beer and a single glass on his table. Phone in hand, Seth was watching some stupid video while he kept an eye on a group of six men clustered around the solitary pool table. No one was playing, but there was a lot of back slapping, and guffaws going on.
Seth didn’t really care what they were doing, but his fight hook-up was one of the men concerned, so he was curious. The guy with the Grim Reaper belt buckle had spent a lot of time on his phone and was nudging his friends and nodding a lot. The solitary bartender was also keeping an eye on the crowd, so Seth assumed whatever was going on wasn’t usual. Another thing that meant something weird was going on was that there were no other customers. A few had come in, seen the group at the table and immediately left.
Not my problem. Seth could handle himself, especially against humans, but just as he was thinking about leaving and getting a bite to eat, the door of the bar flew open and two men dragging a third came in, laughing loudly.
“We got one, fellas.” One of the men yelled to the group in the corner. “He’s a bit knocked about, but he’ll be alive and kicking tonight. Little bastard tried to use a phone to call the cops. Daryl proved a rifle didn’t have to have bullets in it to hurt someone. Little git got the butt of it right across the head.”
The group in the corner laughed. Seth frowned. The man they were dragging was unconscious, his head hanging limply as the two men dragged him by his armpits across the floor. Dark hair – Seth couldn’t see his face, but he knew instantly the dragged man was a wolf shifter. More than enough reason for Seth to leave, except… the damn man was glowing, and no one was noticing that fucking glow except Seth.
Fuck, it can’t be. It fucking is… damn it. Concerned, even though he’d prefer not to be, Seth looked across at where the bartender had been standing, but the coward had disappeared. Fuck, and double fuck again. He picked up his glass and leaned against the back of his chair.
I can’t interfere – it’s a human affair. That law gave Seth an automatic out, although he wasn’t sure how that might apply to damaged mates. The Fates were very fussy about how people treated their choices.
He’s a wolf – he probably lied to the wrong person. Yeah. That’ll be what’s happened. Unfortunately, watching the crowd, and the way the bartender was still absent, that wasn’t likely to be the case and Seth knew it. Something illegal was going on.
Someone’s bound to interfere. Zeus watches shit like this. Seth looked over at the doors, almost expecting to see the demon Cas and his wolf mate come in the door all guns blazing, or however it was they dealt with things.
Nothing happened.
Seth was still watching the group when his fight coordinator caught his eye. Muttering something to his friend, he wandered over. “New fighter?” Seth asked when the guy got close.
“Fuck no.” The biker hitched his pants over his gut. “Guy couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag. Nah, he’s… let’s call him insurance. To make sure the guys fighting tonight can get patched up.”
“Sounds good. When am I in?”
The biker chuckled, shaking his head. “No point in having you fighting tonight. You never lose and let’s just say there are some interesting side wagers on a number of people who will be fighting tonight. Not your thing anyway – it’s a free-for-all, like one big gang rumble, if you know what I mean, complete with knives and chains. Thirty men go in, one comes out. It’s an annual event.”
Seth shrugged. “Must be a big paycheck for the guy who walks out. Why can’t it be me?”
“The winner’s already decided.” His biker associate leaned closer and lowered his voice. “That man there, the one who needs a haircut, he’s going to ensure the right man wins. He’s a doc from over at Great Falls – has a medical bag and everything.”
“Yeah, he looks really keen to be here.” Seth took a drink to hide his disgust.
“Meh. The Grim Reapers take what they want when they want and ain’t no one going to stop them. Who knows, we might let him go, or we might decide to keep him. A doc is a handy guy to have around with all the hunting accidents our boys get, and he can always keep the clubhouse clean in his down time.”
A slave in other words. Seth nodded, taking another swig of his drink. “Are there going to be spectators at this event of yours, or is this a select member only thing?”
“Got any cash?” A calculating look came over his biker associate’s face. “Everyone has to contribute to the pot – pay for the entertainment so to speak, and of course, there’s plenty of guys there prepared to bet on the outcome.”
Leaning back far enough so he could get his hand in his pocket, Seth pulled out a roll of cash and held it up. “Enough for you?”
“Well, dang, you’ve just become my new best friend,” the biker drawled. “Drink up. We’re heading out in five.”
You’re easily bought. Seth had no respect for the slob who walked back to his friends. And okay… he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be where the wolf was. I’m just making sure they let him go afterwards. Yep. There was something vulnerable about the unconscious wolf shifter, and that’s all Seth was doing, keeping an eye on him. A good deed for once - one that might reflect well on him with his father. Once the doc did his job, and was released, Seth would keep his distance and go back to waiting on Ra.
He could barely swallow a snarl as the doc’s two captors crossed his path again, still dragging the unconscious shifter with his long black hair.
