Trouble Walked In Read online

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  Copyright© 2015 Michelle Roth

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-462-3

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Brieanna Robertson

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my cousin, Sianna. Thanks so much for your unerring support and the fact that you're always first in line to buy my books. It means the world to me!

  TROUBLE WALKED IN

  The Forsaken Few, 1

  Michelle Roth

  Copyright © 2015

  Chapter One

  She was gonna be trouble, Ronan Kelly decided as he watched the green-eyed little thing over at the pool table. When she'd come in a few minutes ago, he figured she'd take one look around and then walk right back out. Instead, she'd sashayed up to the bar pretty as you please and ordered bourbon with a beer chaser.

  No one in this shitty little dive bar was used to seeing anyone who looked like that in here. Most of the women that graced the bar were usually looking for a quick lay. They weren't the kind of women you'd take home to your momma, let alone stay the night with. He was pretty sure that the women's bathroom had seen more than its share of sexual encounters. He turned a blind eye and didn't ask questions. Kelly's was the kind of place where nobody asked any questions.

  Right now, she was kicking Sarge's ass, if his eyes didn't deceive him. And being part wolf, they never did. This little slip of nothin' was running the damn table on him. Sarge wasn't the type of guy you wanted to fuck with either. Hell, there wasn't anyone she'd wanna fuck with here tonight.

  A quick glance around the bar confirmed that it was almost exclusively filled with shifters. She probably had no idea that the man she was currently destroying at the pool table was a giant bear that could tear her apart if need be. Granted, it wasn't exactly a common practice, but that didn't matter. When the alcohol flowed and tempers flared, it was harder to keep the beast at bay.

  Sarge was half a bottle in and he looked like he was building up a good head of steam. The last thing Ronan wanted was to get involved in a dispute over a pool game, but he also didn't need any goddamned dead bodies in his bar either. Disgusted, he threw the towel down on the bar and wandered back to the pool table.

  As Little Miss was scooping the twenties off the felt with a satisfied grin, Sarge snarled, “You little bitch! You conned me!”

  One of the other men he didn't know spoke up. Mimicking her southern belle drawl, he said, “I wanna play. I've done it a couple of times. You boys'll be gentle, won't ya?”

  “Well, ya'll wouldn't have played with me if I told you I was gonna kick your asses, would ya? The way I see it, you were either lookin' to take my money or to get in my panties. Don't get all pissy with me just 'cause neither of those things is gonna happen.”

  Ronan had to bite back a grin at the wink she'd given them both. This poor girl must have a death wish. He'd give her this, though. She had some brass balls under that tiny little skirt of hers. He finally stepped forward when Sarge started to move toward her.

  “Sarge,” Ronan said, interrupting. “She beat ya fair and square. Let it go, brother. Have another drink on the house. Have Ty set you up.”

  When Sarge turned to look at him, he was angry but resigned. Instead of saying anything further, he slammed his pool cue down on the baize and muttered as he walked toward the bar.

  Ronan took one look at the growing crowd and said, “Alright, boys, nothing to see here.”

  As the crowd started to disperse, he said, “Not so fast, cupcake.”

  Her face screamed “fuck you,” but she only asked, “Cupcake?”

  “Well, princess,” he said, correcting himself with a smirk, “I don't know what your name is, but I know that you don't belong here. You need to get your sweet little ass outta my bar before you get hurt. That man you just conned is not the type of person you wanna fuck with.”

  The attitude suddenly disappeared from her face. Something close to desperation took its place. “I'm just looking to have a good time,” she said. “I won't cause any trouble.”

  “You already have. Consider your tab closed, cupcake, and get out of my bar!”

  “What the fuck, man?” she asked. “I didn't do anything. He got all pissy that I conned him out of twenty bucks, but he was gonna do the same thing to me. I don't see what the big deal is!”

  Ronan rubbed a hand over his face and said, “You've got no idea what you're dealing with. Don't make me physically remove you from my bar. I'll do it.”

  She glared, but didn't move an inch. He stepped forward to put his hands on her shoulders and steer her gently out the door. That's when she reached out and raked her nails across his cheek.

  “Don't fucking touch me,” she yelled, struggling against him.

  He let her go with a hiss and brought his hand to his face. When he pulled away bloody fingers, his wolf snarled and yanked against the chains inside. Pulling in a deep, calming breath, he fought against his incredibly visceral need to shift. Ronan wasn't used to being challenged. Not by a little tiny thing like this. Especially not in front of all these damn people.

  He reached forward and wrapped an arm around the waist, scooping her up off her feet. This time, he was prepared. He trapped her arms against her body. She screamed and he grabbed her hair, stilling her head. He whispered against her ear, his voice eerily quiet, “Calm the fuck down. You and I are going into the back to have a chat, miss thing. So long as you don't scratch me again, I won't resort to violence. You didn't think that I was going to let you come into my bar, stir things up, and then fucking assault me, did you?”

  She stilled instantly. Maybe she finally understood the gravity of the situation because she didn't move a muscle as he walked them toward the back.

  “Ty,” he called. “You got the bar. This may be a while.”

  The patrons all hooted and hollered, obviously thinking the worst. He wasn't going to dissuade them either. At the very least, he had a reputation to maintain. Letting this tiny little thing scratch him up like that in public was unacceptable and she was about to find that out.

  Chapter Two

  When he finally dragged her through the swinging door into what she assumed was his office, Moira Devereaux was more than a little freaked out. He tossed her haplessly down on the couch and then slammed the door shut behind them with a growl.

  She looked at his face and felt the first inklings of shame creep in along with the fear. She really hadn't meant to scratch the guy. It had been instinctive. The asshole shouldn't have touched her. She'd been maneuvered and manhandled more than enough for one lifetime. There would be no more of that. She wasn't anyone's goddamned victim.

  “So, you wanna tell me who the fuck you are and why you felt the need to scratch me?”

  “Moira Devereaux,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “It was a knee-jerk reaction. I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to scratch you.”

  “Well, Moira Devereaux,” he drawled, “if you knew the kind of instincts you riled in me, you'd be more than scared. What the hell are you even doing in my bar? All the frat boys hang out at The Lobo in town.”

  Even though she could see the anger he barely kept in check, she waved him off. “I wasn't exactly looking to get laid, but th
anks for the tip.”

  “So what is that you're doing in my bar? These ain't exactly your kinda folks, sweetheart,” he warned.

  “Simmer down. I know what you are. That's the only reason that I came here,” she explained.

  Before she could even blink, he was out of his chair and had her hair in a punishing grip once more. “Come again?”

  She cried out at the initial shock, but then the pain radiated out in pleasurable waves. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm herself. She ignored the sudden ache between her thighs and tried to refocus her thoughts on his question. Her voice shaky, she said, “I know what you are.”

  “Open your fucking eyes and tell me! What exactly is it that you think I am?”

  Her eyes flew open at the command and locked onto his. He was beautiful. And also dangerous. His blond shaggy hair and cool blue eyes were hard to ignore. The arms that had been tightly banded around her were clearly muscular.

  She willed her frayed nerves to settle. “Part man, part wolf. One of those werewolves or whatever. I don't know what you people call yourselves,” she explained with more bravado than she actually felt.

  His eyes practically glowed an eerie blueish-silver. Unless she missed her guess, that meant he was pretty pissed off. “A shifter. Not that it's the best kept secret in the world, but how exactly do you know that?”

  “My father is the mayor of Lorelei. He told me what you were and then told me to stay away from you. By the way, what do I call you? Wolfman?”

  He jerked her hair back again, eliciting another whimper from her, and then said, “I'm Ronan. Ronan Kelly. And tell me, what exactly were you planning to do with all this information your daddy gave you?”

  “Nothing! I swear it. The only reason I came here was because I know that my father is afraid of you guys! He owns the whole goddamned town otherwise.”

  “Look, Moira. Not that you haven't endeared yourself to me,” he said sarcastically, “but I'm not looking to get between you and your daddy. Get the hell out of my bar and go home.”

  “You don't understand,” she said, her lip quivering.

  “Oh Christ. Don't turn on the tears, cupcake. I don't give a damn what the issue is. I want you out of my bar. I won't have you jeopardizing the safety of my people so you can throw a tantrum.”

  Her heart dropped. “Could you… Could you let go of my hair, please?”

  He immediately released it, as if he'd forgotten he'd grabbed it, but he stayed crouched exactly where he was. “Did you drive here?”

  “Took a cab, but please. Don't make me leave. I came home today and he told me that I was getting married. To someone I don't even know! Do you realize how fucked up that is? When I refused, he kicked me out. He cut me off. I don't have anywhere to go. No one else in this town will help me. I won some money, but not enough for a place to stay.”

  “Sorry for your troubles, but they ain't mine. You need to go. Now.”

  Resigned, she rose, and played the last card in her arsenal. “I figured if anyone would be man enough to stand up to my asshole of a father, it would be a shifter. I'll go, though. I apologize for making a scene.”

  When she reached the door of the office, she began to open in and then felt a sense of triumph when his hand slammed up against it.

  “Man enough? I assure you that I'm more than man enough for anything you might have in mind, cupcake. I just don't feel like you've given me a very compelling reason at this point. He wants you to marry some jerk? Tell him no. He won't pay for school? Get a job.”

  She spun around to face him, her cheeks flaming. Embarrassed, she finally admitted, “I've got forty-three dollars and eleven cents. No place to live. No car. No job. My father owns the entire town. No one else is willing to help me. The job market isn't looking too good.”

  “So, what? You thought you'd come in here and con some of my patrons?”

  “That was the plan,” she said, feeling another overwhelming wave of shame wash over her.

  “Sarge is a hard ass. You really picked the wrong target, ya know.”

  “Well, he hit on me the second I walked in the door, so—”

  Ronan snorted derisively, then said, “He's more the type to fuck them in the ladies room. If you were thinkin' you'd have a bed to sleep in tonight, you thought wrong. Especially after you took his money.”

  She shrank back against the door in horror and said, “Not my type! And if you would have let me finish, I was saying that he was a complete pig. The way I see it, he deserved what he got.”

  “He isn't the most genteel,” Ronan admitted, smirking. “Still, I can't have you making a fuss in my bar or conning my patrons. Bad for business.”

  “The opportunity just presented itself and I took it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about your face. I've just been bullied my whole damned life and I'm tired of it.” She sniffed and then wiped a stray tear off her cheek. “Just let me go. I gotta find some place to stay tonight.”

  Moira's heart pounded when he didn't immediately release his hold on the door.

  “Fuck,” he groaned. “Can you wait tables?”

  “Yes,” she said, with something perilously close to hope in her voice.

  “I've got a couch you can sleep on.” At her hesitant look, he added, “I won't pretend like the idea doesn't appeal to me because something tells me you'd be a wild one in bed, but there aren't any strings, Moira.”

  She loved the way that her name tripped off his tongue. That slow drawl of his was a killer. Even still, she was suspicious. “Not that I don't appreciate your kindness, but...why?”

  “I've been in your shoes,” he admitted. “I don't much like bullies.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes filling again. “Do you want me to come out and help right now or—”

  “Let's let things settle down for the night. You can start tomorrow. Got any clothes other than what you've got on? I don't wager you could fit much in that purse,” he said, eyeing her small clutch.

  For the first time since she'd come in the office, she smiled. “Yeah. I stashed my duffel bag in the bushes out back. I didn't exactly wanna bring all my worldly belongings into a bar.”

  “Well, let's go get 'em,” he said impatiently. “After that you can hang out back here until closing. Once everyone's out of here, we'll head to my place.”

  He moved his hand from the office door and stepped back so she could open it. When she moved out into the dimly lit hallway, she took in the scarred linoleum and the drab walls. This place could use some color.

  He circled around her and led her quickly out into the back parking lot. She scurried to the bushes at the edge of the lot and grabbed her duffel. Slinging it over her shoulder, she walked back toward Ronan.

  He took it from her then wordlessly led her back down the hallway and into his office. When she'd settled on the couch again, he dropped her bag and said, “Don't make me regret this, Moira.”

  Before she could even speak, he closed the door and left. She stared after him and said, “Funny. I was going to say the same thing to you.”

  Chapter Three

  Ronan took a quick detour into the small bathroom next to his office and examined his face. A couple of scratches, but nothing serious. They'd probably be mostly gone by morning. Sooner if he shifted.

  As pissed as he'd been, he found it was quickly replaced by understanding. Before he'd left home, his entire life had been mapped out. The moment he was born with a dick, it had all been laid out. School first, then agricultural college, then he'd take over the farm. Get married, have a few cubs, and eventually become the alpha of his pack when his father died.

  While his brothers and sisters had played, he'd been subjected to lecture after lecture about leadership and honor. Any time he'd gotten in the slightest bit of trouble, he was reminded of his duty to his family. He'd only been a child, but they treated him like he was an adult.

  He'd decided early on that he would escape the life that had been planned out for him at the earliest
opportunity. The day he'd turned eighteen, he registered for the Army. He had skipped school and ridden the bus two towns over so no one would know who he was. God, had his father been angry.

  He could still remember the crack of his father's fist against his jaw. His old man had been an asshole and a fucking bully. There was no way that he was going to spend the rest of his adult life under his father's thumb. That one simple act of rebellion had changed his entire world.

  Ronan could still see the tears on his mother's face, hear the pain in her voice when she'd said, “I think it's best that you go.” He'd always understood the position that he'd put her in. His mother had been the only soft person in his life. His brothers and sisters had been distant. They'd mockingly called him the chosen one. Like that was some kind of a treat, knowing exactly how you were going to live and die from the moment you were born. Not that it mattered. He hadn't spoken to any of them in the near twenty years since he'd left. He sent his mother letters periodically, but he never got an answer.

  He splashed some water on his face and then patted it dry. He wasn't altogether sure what he was going to tell anyone who asked him about the girl. Hopefully, everyone would mind their own business, but Lorelei wasn't really that kind of town. When you were sick, your neighbors knew. Getting a divorce? Expect a visit from the old biddies from the church. Not much went unnoticed.

  When he wandered back out front and slid behind the bar, Ty grinned at him and immediately asked, “Need help buryin' the body, boss?”

  “Nope,” he said shortly, not bothering to elaborate. He hoped his tone properly conveyed his desire to not be questioned any further

  Ty merely raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and said, “Just puttin' out the offer, boss.”