Dax’s grin widened, revealing teeth as he leaned against the bar. “Darling, if you wanted me somewhere private, all you had to do was ask,” he drawled. The languid way he carried himself oozed sensuality and the confidence of a guy who got his way often. Just the sort she’d run roughshod over. Sierra didn’t blink, crossing her arms.
Finn tapped her shoulder. “Boss, you don’t have to give him the time of day, let alone engage in any one-on-one negotiations. Cats aren’t trustworthy.”
“My beta’s bringing up some pretty good points,” she said to Dax in return, getting up from her barstool. “Think you can survive a talk with me without resorting to petty tricks?”
The beanpole, Kyle, jumped in. “And why should we trust you to not launch an ambush once you get him alone?”
Sierra’s gaze flashed, her claws pricking out. “Because Red Rocks keep their word.” Her voice turned molten and harsh despite the complete control she’d regained. Intimidation against a bitty cat like him came as natural as running water. “Because we don’t go intruding on other folks’ territories, making demands. We learned a thing or two about honor and loyalty along the way and about defending our home with our lives.”
Sierra clenched her jaw. Even though she’d been able to unseat him for a couple of seconds, every interaction with him was a push-pull for power, one seeping beneath her skin like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She cast a glance to Finn. “Treat them like guests while they’re here,” she murmured. “However, if they get aggressive, don’t hesitate to slit their throats.”
“Please, my pack is nothing but well-behaved,” Dax called across the room. “Just tell your puppies to play nice.”
Sierra shot Finn one last glance before striding across the room to catch up with Dax. She didn’t trust the bastard for a heartbeat. Even though she could hold her own in a fight, the mischief blazing in his eyes and the slick calm he oozed set her nerves on edge. Whatever reason he had for bringing his pack into her territory, one fact remained undeniably true: The man was pure trouble.
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About the Author
Strong women. Strong words.
Katherine McIntyre is a feisty chick with a big attitude despite her short stature. She writes stories featuring snarky women, ragtag crews, and men with bad attitudes—high chance for a passionate speech thrown into the mix. As an eternal geek and tomboy who’s always stepped to her own beat, she’s made it her mission to write stories that represent the broad spectrum of people out there, from different cultures and races to all varieties of men and women. Easily distracted by cats and sugar.