Twice Bitten by Morgan Jane Mitchell

Author:Morgan Jane Mitchell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: werewolves, paranormal, police, psychic, serial killer, female protagonist, dark
Publisher: Morgan Jane Mitchell
Published: 2016-06-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

THE CAB DROPPED ME off at 12th street. I tipped Joe extra for making sure no one had followed us. I’d worn something nice, a dress I’d gotten for my parent’s funeral. It was the only dress I owned, but it was black. Wasn’t that what was recommended, one good black dress? Dressing it up with my grandma’s jewelry, a belt and red shoes, I’d made it work to go to The Boot Tread. The Boot Tread—it sounded like it’d be the kind of bar I went to with Kimber the other night, but it wasn’t. It was a fashionable place named after the owner’s popular craft beer. Why a man like Leon wanted to meet there was beyond me.

After my eventful night, I’d woken up late and then worried myself sick all day, thinking of what I should do, should I go and talk to Leon? I hadn’t answered a single call from Dunkan or checked the two voicemails he’d left. Last night had left me puzzled, scared, and I knew I needed answers. If I confronted him, I felt Dunkan would only lie to me or forbid me to see Leon. If the detective was truly after him, I needed my answers first before Dunkan got to him.

Walking into the posh bar, I remembered why I hadn't checked it out before, the crowd. The host asked if I was meeting someone so I answered, “Leon.” I didn’t know a last name. The man led me to what he said was a private room. Leon sat inside with a very naked stripper in his lap. He wacked her ass and told her to get lost as soon as he saw me. The woman bounced up, her tits bouncing with her. She bent to take some cash off the table, and Leon’s eyes drifted to her ass. She left, blowing him a kiss. The door closed, and we were alone.

“What was I interrupting?” I jeered, wondering what kind of bar this was.

“Nothing. We don’t fool with regular girls.”

We? Regular? There were so many questions, but I decided to let him talk.

He stretched out his legs and hummed, “But you’re welcome to come sit in my lap.”

“No thanks,” I yammered, realizing I was still standing, taking him in. The man I saw change into a wolf right before my eyes, cleaned up well. In grey slacks and a white dress shirt, he looked like a different man. Still as good looking but not like the country boy he’d seemed to be the other times. I sat opposite of him since there were only two plush chairs in the dimly lit room and a tiny table between them.

I asked the obvious, “What are we doing here?”

“Here, as in Boot Treads? Dunkan won’t think that someone like me, some hick from Farrimore would be somewhere like this. He doesn’t know all he thinks he does.”

Again, he hated Dunkan. This much I knew. I opened my hands toward him, saying, “I’ve come to you.

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