Page 72 of Junkyard Dog

“And I’m concerned Alex is passing all the good bars,” Bo chimed in, craning his neck back. “Pull into the Washout. We can have a half-decent meal, a drink, and then return to squatter’s paradise for a night of scorpions and barking at the moon.”

Ryan’s brows lifted for a moment before he nodded. “I’m in.”

Alex pulled into the parking lot, scanning the cars and letting out a breath. “Let’s go.”

*

Charlotte slipped onher work boots and bent over to lace them, setting her flashlight on the passenger seat. The Chasm was deserted, the only sign of life the small brown snake watching her from a few yards off. She pushed her gun into her back pocket and began her trek toward the hidden entrance to the cavern, using her flashlight to scan the area for Butch.

Or Not-Butch.

“Here, boy,” she called out, using the large stones to balance herself as she made her way into the opening. “You in here?”

Making her way through the first stretch of the Chasm, she continued to call out to Butch and Not-Butch, periodically tapping her gun in reassurance. She turned her shoulders sideways and squeezed through a tight formation, glancing behind her into the darkness as she wedged herself toward the pinnacle of the pass. Hefting herself to the shelf, she scanned the area with her flashlight, calling out for the damn dog.

“Stubborn little beast, aren’t you,” she muttered into the emptiness, looking around one last time before shining her light across her path and memorizing the descent into the chimney. Shoving her flashlight into her empty pocket, she steadied her footing and dropped into the darkness.

*

Alex stood atthe bar beside his brothers, tensing when gentle fingers ran across the back of his neck and the blonde woman he recognized from Tom’s Tavern smiled up at him, a shot of tequila in her hand.

“I’m good, thanks,” he said, waving off the drink and tossing an annoyed look at Bo. “We’re heading out right away.”

The woman pressed up against him, her perfectly lined lips aligning with his ear. “We could sneak out back for a bit first.”

Shaking his head, he leaned away from her and met Ryan’s gaze. “Ready?”

“Am I ever.” Ryan extricated himself from a gorgeous brunette and elbowed Bo in the ribs. “Now, Bo.” He tossed his credit card on the bar counter and waved the bartender over. “I’ll cover our tab and another round for the ladies.”

His teeth clenched as the blonde continued to whisper offers in his ear while she traced her fingers down his spine, an inherent sense of wrongness washing over him as she pressed against his arm. He tracked the bartender’s movements, cursing inwardly as the guy stopped to refill a water before swiping the card and handing the receipt to Ryan to sign.

Ryan hesitated, pen in hand. “What’s the standard tip rate at bars?”

“Twenty percent,” he muttered, frowning when he felt a strange bump under his feet. “What the hell was that?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Charlotte.

Alex hit the floor, bringing the blonde woman down underneath him and exposing his back to the bottles and glasses dropping off the counter. Her screams were drowned out by the clamor of liquor bottles rattling off the shelves, chairs upending across the hardwood floor, and wooden beams creaking under the strain of the quake.

Fighting against the instinctual need to transform in the wake of danger, he locked his eyes on Ryan to ground himself, his frantic thoughts funneling and channeling until they narrowed into a single stream.

Where the hell is Charlotte.

Bo lay crouched over another woman, snarling as his half-empty beer bottle bounced off the back of his head and shattered at his feet.

Who’s with her.

Ryan crawled across the floor as it shook, making his way to assess the bleeding gash across Bo’s head as the shaking came to an end.

Alex rose off the blonde woman screaming underneath him and began the frantic search for his phone amid the overturned chairs and glass shards. Spotting it just out of reach, he scrambled forward and latched on to it, bracing himself as another wave rolled through the bar, the intense sound drowning out the screams of the patrons.

He wiped his phone on his shirt, snagging the fabric on the broken screen before he tapped his phone to life and hit Charlotte’s number as he crawled toward Bo and Ryan, his cell tight to his ear and his pounding heart stuttering when it went straight to voice mail.

He dialed again.

And again.

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