The Wolf's Secret Vegas Bride Read online

  “You and what army are gonna stop me?” The big fellow made the mistake of thinking he could muscle past Rory. Big guys often mistook his wiry build for weak.

  Rory rolled back on his heels, absorbing the blow, before coldcocking the guy.

  Crack. It was like hitting granite. He resisted an urge to shake his fist and yell. Because, much like hitting rock, hitting this guy’s face fucking hurt.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” The big cat rolled his free shoulder and dumped his cargo onto the pavement.

  Rory backed up a few steps and dropped into a limber partial crouch. He beckoned. “Come on, big boy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Cie, while a cat shifter in real life, rushed like a bull. Sidestepping was smarter than taking the full brunt. Hence why Rory slid sideways at the last possible moment and stuck out his foot.

  The big guy tripped but didn’t fall. Rather, he turned with a snarl and came rushing again.

  This time, Rory let the fellow barrel into him, and the momentum drove him back into the parking lot, where they hit the hood of a car hard enough to leave a dent.

  Oops. Rory and the Canadian cat grappled, exchanging fast blows, blocking others. Dancing to and fro until a particularly well-placed jab staggered Rory. Actually, what made him trip was the damned body in the blanket—which, despite a firm stumble, didn’t make a sound.

  Is she dead?

  He’d have to wait to find out. Cie seemed determined to crush him to death.

  “Bear hugs? Is that really your signature move?” he taunted as the man threatened to crack a few ribs. Rory’s arms were above the squeeze point, so he clapped his hands over the guy’s ears.

  The big dude bellowed, and his grip loosened enough for Rory to wedge himself free and push away.

  Setting himself in a fighting crouch, he crooked his fingers and beckoned. “Here kitty, kitty.”

  The man meowed—okay, he bellowed—and came at Rory. They exchanged some blows, most of Rory’s landing but doing little damage, while he avoided Cie’s plate-sized clenched fists because one of those would probably cause some harm.

  The other guy had more than a few pounds on him, and while he lacked skill, he appeared to have a head made of rock. Cie refused to go down.

  Which meant Rory would have to play dirty.

  When he saw his chance, his foot rose and hit the other guy square in the jewels. Cie predictably oomphed and folded. Whereupon Rory grabbed him by the head, yanked him down hard, smashing Cie’s face onto his knee. Once, twice, the third time the big guy slumped.

  Breathing heavily, Rory stared at the unconscious body on the ground. Good thing there was only one. Or so he assumed.

  He frowned at the darkness. There were almost no lights back here. Only shadows upon shadows. Within which anything could hide.

  “Gnnnng.” The muffled body groaned from the rolled fabric.

  What to do with it? Her. Her…

  He eyed the room spilling light. It took but a moment to enter and get hit by the scent. Her scent. He quickly grabbed the bag he found lying there and the few clothes hanging over a chair. She’d not brought much. A quick glance through the bag didn’t reveal any keys, or money.

  Was this all she had?

  Exiting outside, he knew he had to move quickly. At one point, his luck would end and someone would notice two bodies on the ground. He couldn’t carry them both home. Not only would that look a bit suspicious, he wasn’t strong enough to be hauling around a pair of bodies.

  He could have probably handled her, and yet logic reared its head. First, his house was far enough to make it tedious, and two, someone might notice him with his odd burden and ask questions. And three, once big guy regained consciousness, he’d simply follow.

  Only if he’s alive.

  His wolf had very black and white views about the world.

  Rory crouched and rifled through the snoring man’s pockets. He was rewarded with keys. Rental keys. He aimed them and hit the unlock button.

  Lights flashed. Bingo. He now had a set of wheels.

  He grabbed the bundled body, brought it to the car, and opened the trunk. Since it didn’t have a body already, he gave it one. Then slammed it shut. As for the kitty? Since killing another shapeshifter who had permission to be here might prove problematic, he instead grabbed the heavy man and lugged him into the motel room. He stripped him and tied him to the bed. If found, it would be assumed a sexual act gone awry. It happened more often than people thought.

  Shutting the door as best he could, he then got in the driver’s side of his newly borrowed car and drove home. Only once in the garage with the door shut behind him did he ponder what to do with the damned vehicle—and the woman in the trunk. The one who smelled so familiar.

  It can’t be her. No way. The coincidence would be…

  Staggering, yes, however, if fate was playing games… He glanced at the bundle form nestled in his trunk. He could find out quite easily. Just peel back that blanket. Free her from the cocoon.

  Instead, he threw her over his shoulder and stashed her in his wine storage room—which he kept locked. He didn’t have time to deal with her yet and needed somewhere secure to stash her.

  Trying to push her out of his mind, he returned to the garage. He still had another problem to deal with.

  The car, which had an onboard tracking system—an annoying thing rental companies did to keep track of their fleet—he drove a few blocks to a less-than-nice part of town and abandoned. By dawn, he doubted much of it would remain. A taxi brought him back to his place.

  Only once he’d poured himself a glass of whiskey did he debate what to do with the woman he’d found.

  He still had no idea who she was.

  Liar.

  His wolf knew. He suspected he did, too. But, for some reason, he kept avoiding it.

  Say it. You’re avoiding her.

  I don’t know for sure it’s her. He’d only met and smelled her that one night. Perhaps this was another woman.

  Go look. It was almost a taunt by his wolf.

  A taunt he wanted to refuse, but that would indicate cowardice, and Rory’s belly was anything but yellow.

  He slammed the whiskey glass down and marched to his wine room. Opened the door quickly before he changed his mind then yelled as he was clobbered.

  Chapter 7

  The wine bottle made a very nice bonking sound when it connected with her captor’s skull. It unfortunately didn’t break. It also didn’t send her abductor crashing to the floor. An abductor that looked an awful lot like the man she’d met in the casino. My husband.

  But how? How had he found her?

  “What the fuck?” Rory yelled, holding a hand to the side of his head. “Why are you hitting me?”

  Straightening her shoulders, and trying to look tougher than she felt, Dani faced him and tilted her chin. “You kidnapped me.”

  “No, I rescued you. Or did you conveniently forget the thug I rescued you from?”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who kicked in my hotel door and drugged me.” She’d not seen his face, but she remembered the fear as the door flung open and hit the wall hard. The strangled scream as the masked intruder entered. The panic when she tried to run, only to find there was nowhere to go, which meant he easily captured her. No amount of flailing freed her. The damp cloth across her mouth, the scent on it acrid, sent her into la-la land.

  “That wasn’t me, darling. I saved you.”

  “Really?” She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow. “Then explain why I’m locked in this room. Huh? Let’s hear it, oh mighty savior.”

  “I didn’t want you escaping until we’d had a chance to talk.”

  “Talk about what?”

  “A certain night in Vegas comes to mind.”

  Did he know about the wedding? “You know what they say about Vegas.”

  “It would be easier to forget if we’d not done something a little more bind
ing.”

  Yup, he knew about the wedding. Her lips pursed. “That was a mistake.”

  For a moment, she could have sworn annoyance crossed his features before relief smoothed them. “Glad you agree.”

  “Since that’s settled, I’m leaving.” Before he touched her and tested her resolve. She might say that night was a mistake, she might be fuzzy on the exact details, but her body hadn’t forgotten. Damn her nipples for perking and her pussy for getting slick.

  It was toe curling and fun… She blinked and looked away from him lest he recognize the blush on her cheeks for what it was.

  “Not too fast, darling. While I’m glad you agree it was a mistake, there is a certain matter of paperwork to deal with.”

  “Paperwork?”

  “Regarding our marriage.”

  “Which surely isn’t legal. I was drunk.”

  “No duh. And so was I.”

  “Aren’t there laws, though?”

  He shrugged. “I thought we would be covered, but apparently not. Because of what happened after.”

  “What happened after?” she asked before his arched brow had her cheeks heating. “Oh. That.” And by that he obviously alluded to the fact they’d consummated the wedding. “So, we did actually, um…”

  “You don’t remember?”

  She shook her head.

  Another long sigh. “Neither can I, but the signs all pointed to it happening.”

  “And the wedding was real?” She’d seen the name of the chapel. Anything with aliens in it surely couldn’t be taken seriously.

  “Oh, it’s real all right.” From his back pocket, he whipped out a folded piece of paper and waved it in her face. “Here’s the receipt. There’s even a wedding video that I wouldn’t recommend watching.”

  “I can’t be married to you.” Although, it would solve more than one problem. Kelso came to mind… Would a marriage keep him away, or would he try and make me a widow?

  “I am glad you agree, which is why I had my lawyer—”

  “You contacted someone about it?”

  “Well, how the fuck else did you expect me to get a divorce?”

  “A divorce?” The word finally filtered through her dense brain. Registering for divorce would involve public filings and an address for the courts. A way to trace her. “No.” She shook her head and kept shaking it as she pushed her way past him. “This is bullshit.” Her father’s favorite expletive slipped past her lips. “This can’t be valid. We barely know each other. We can’t be married.”

  “Agreed. Which is why, if you sign this”—he whipped out another set of documents from his magical back pocket—“then we can go about fixing this mess.”

  “What are those?” she asked, eyeing the tight script with a leery gaze.

  “Divorce papers.”

  “How do you have those already?”

  “I had some drawn up the moment I found out about our nuptials.”

  “Have you been carrying them around all this time?” she asked with a raised brow.

  “No, I grabbed them when I found you.”

  “And locked me up.”

  “So you wouldn’t run away before we took care of business. All we have to do is sign citing irreconcilable differences, then my lawyer files it—”

  “Nope.” She shoved them back at him.

  “What do you mean ‘nope’? We can’t stay married.”

  “I agree, which is why we’ll both pretend it never happened and go about our lives.”

  “I’d like to do that, darling, but that means you need to sign the papers.” He shoved them back at her.

  She tucked her hands behind her back and shook her head. “I can’t. Because it has my real name on it.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “If I sign that and you file it with the courts, then my real name will be in some database somewhere. Where people can see it.” Find it. Find her. She had to leave now.

  She began marching in what she hoped was the direction of the front door.

  He blocked her.

  “Out of my way.”

  “You are not leaving until you sign.”

  He didn’t appear likely to budge, and it occurred to her that it didn’t matter. She would be long gone before anything hit the public waves. “You want me to sign. Fine. I’ll sign. But only if you give me a car.”

  “Like fuck. I saw what happened to the last one you stole.”

  “I left your car in pristine condition.”

  “In a bad part of town!”

  “You can’t blame me for the choices carjackers make.” Their mothers should have hugged them more. Her nanny used to give great hugs. Daddy too. Her feet would leave the ground. Her lips turned down.

  “Don’t you pout. I have every right to blame you for stealing it.”

  He didn’t get to blame her for anything because, “You got me drunk.”

  “I offered you the first and second. The rest were on you, darling.”

  “You took advantage of me.”

  “Did I? Because I most distinctly recall you doing deliciously decadent things to me.” His gaze sharpened, something wolfish in his smile.

  The man was obviously a rake. Look at how he’d not only conned her into marrying but also into sleeping with him.

  “I was drunk, and you took advantage.”

  He shook his head and jabbed a finger in her direction. “This mess is your fault. You made me marry you.”

  She might not remember much after the stairwell exit, but she did remember one thing. “Like hell I did. You were the one who said ‘Come with me, I’ve got a surprise.’” The man who called her his mate.

  “I was vulnerable.”

  She snorted. “You? That is the stupidest thing you’ve said thus far.”

  “The day is young.”

  “Is this where I ask what stupid thing you’re planning next?”

  “No need to ask. Because I’m gonna show you.” He lunged suddenly and heaved her over his shoulder.

  It took her by surprise, which was why she reacted slowly. Then she did, punching and kicking and yelling.

  “Put me down, you big bully.”

  “That’s husband, dear wife.”

  Sh-i-i-i-t. Did he just seriously say wife? “You can’t do this.”

  “Actually, I can. My house. My rules.”

  “Abduction is a felony.”

  “As my spouse, technically, this isn’t kidnapping.”

  “This is abuse,” she retorted, even though he’d yet to hurt her. But that would change more than likely if she kept defying him. Kelso had started out nice once upon a time, too. And then she wouldn’t give him what he wanted, and things changed. He changed.

  Into a cat. But Rory wasn’t Kelso.

  Yet.

  “I haven’t hurt you,” he said, taking some stairs with ease despite her weight.

  “I demand you set me free.”

  “Will you sign the papers?”

  “No.” Even if that was why she’d stalked his home. She didn’t understand her change of mind. This was what she’d come here for. An escape from this marriage, and now that he offered it—actually, he demanded it— she found herself feeling ornery. This marriage thing could maybe actually work for her.

  If her husband wasn’t such a misogynistic ass who thought carting women around to get his bullying way was all right.

  Rory wanted to control her. Thought he could hold her prisoner and tame her.

  Dani was tired of men telling her what to do. Of being stuck in shitty situations.

  She lost it.

  Chapter 8

  It took Rory a moment to realize what the sound coming from her was.

  Great big heaving sobs.

  Holy shit, she’s crying.

  He quickly set her down on the couch just inside the guest bedroom and asked, somewhat chagrinned, “Are you hurt?”

  “No-no,” she hiccupped.

  “Then why are you crying?”

 
“B-b-because.”

  He frowned. “Because is not an answer.” And why did he smell fear? “Are you scared of me?”

  “Yes.”

  It bothered him that she might think him capable of hurting her. “But I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  She sniffled. “You won’t let me go.”

  “No.”

  “But I want to leave.”

  Leave? “No!” He might have barked it louder than he’d meant.

  She flinched. “You can’t control me.”

  “Never said I was going to. I just want us to talk.”

  “You mean browbeat until I agree to a divorce.”

  “Can you blame me?” he retorted. “I’m married to a stranger who took off once, who is trying to take off again, no phone number, no address. You can’t seriously think I’d let you disappear without getting this marriage thing handled.”

  “I really wish I could help you. But, for the moment, I need this marriage. For one, staying out of public records might make it harder for him to find me.”

  “He? Is someone looking for you?” Jealousy, a new beast, reared its green-eyed head.

  “Yeah. So far I’ve managed to keep ahead of him.”

  “Are you sure of that?”

  “No, why?”

  “That guy who broke into your room, the one who actually did try to kidnap you, could he be this fellow you’re scared of?”

  “What did he look like?” she asked, her fingers twisting in her lap, her cheeks damp with tears.

  “About six-foot-three and built like a linebacker.”

  She shook her head. “Kelso is my height. But it could be one of his thugs.”

  What kind of coward did that? “And why is this Kelso person sending thugs after you?”

  “It’s complicated.” She averted her gaze.

  “I can handle complicated.” What he couldn’t handle were those damned tears. He tucked his hands behind his back lest he try and wipe them.

  “The less you know, the better. Just like the further away I am, the better it is for you. I shouldn’t be here. If Kelso finds out I’m here, you’ll be in danger.” She went to rise, but he snared her arms and caught her.

  She went still, only the fine tremble in her frame and her scent indicating her fear.