Hunter Moon (The Moon Series) (6 page)

“Be nice,” Rafe whispered, digging an elbow into Finn’s stomach.

“I am being nice,” he countered, rubbing the spot absently. “It’s not my fault she’s an old crank.”

The sound of uneven footsteps echoed against the tiled floors at the back of the house. Rafe gave Finn some kind of pointed look that the werewolf didn’t understand, then took a seat at the kitchen table that Ms. Colleen waved him to. Finn followed.

A girl, probably only a little older than Finn, limped into the room. One leg was shorter than the other, explaining the limp. But her problems didn’t end there. She also had scars that swiped along her jaw and neck, disappearing underneath the collar of her t-shirt. Again, she had the supermodel looks of the other werehyenas Finn had run across, but they were overshadowed by what had been done to her.

“Hey Audra,” Rafe said quietly.

Audra turned stiffly to look at the two of them seated at the table. She made no move to join them, just kept standing in the doorway of the kitchen and the back hall. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice full of suspicion and not a little bit of menace.

Rafe raised his hands. “I just came to talk, that’s all.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you. You betrayed your own pack!” she sniffed, her flat gaze turning to Finn. “Is this one of them? One of those leopards you sucked up to and sold your pack out for?”

“Hey now,” Finn said, looking from Rafe to Audra, “I don’t know what’s got your panties in a bun—OW!” Rafe had kicked him under the table.

“He’s not a leopard,” Rafe interrupted. “AND, he’s not important.” Rafe sent a sideways glare in Finn’s direction. “Look Audra, I just came to see if you’d heard anything about anyone disappearing from around here. That’s all.”

She cocked her head. “Like you care.”

“I do. Believe it or not, I don’t want anything else to happen to the people who live here.”

What exactly was between these two? Certainly nothing romantic, but there was a history there. One that Rafe was trying to trade on to get information. Finn nodded to himself. Maybe he’d misjudged the kid.

Audra lowered herself carefully into a chair, wincing in pain as she awkwardly folded herself up to fit. “Still hurts like a bitch.”

“Teresa didn’t do anything by halves,” Rafe replied.

“Neither did your mother.” Audra’s eyes glittered in the little light that filtered in from the window. She nodded at the scars that ran down Rafe’s cheek.

Finn stared, amazed. Teresa had been Rafe’s sister, and Samara’s second in command. He was amazed the old lady had even let them inside the house if Teresa had been involved with Audra’s scars. Finn wished he could have a talk with Rafe about what the hell was going on, but figured he would just have to wait.

“So you hear anything?” Rafe leaned forward. “People going missing, and not like in leaving town, but missing like in gone?”

Audra looked down at her hands. She was quiet for a few minutes, as if debating whether or not to talk to Rafe. Finn nudged the werehyena, but Rafe ignored him. When she spoke, her voice was soft and almost had a hint a vulnerability to it. “I’ve heard some things. Rumors mostly.” She looked around for her grandmother; finding her gone, she continued. “A few of the tougher hyenas that moved in after Samara left haven’t been seen around. And one of the independents hasn’t been seen in at least a week.”

“And you’re sure they couldn’t have left town?”

Audra shook her head, a lock of brown hair falling into her face. She shoved it back behind her ear. “Not likely. They had put down roots here. And they didn’t take anything when they left, not that there was ever much to take. But you get my point.”

Rafe nodded. “Where did these guys hang out? They have any friends that are still around?”

Audra eyed him nervously. “I don’t think you and your buddy over there should head over to the place they hang out. Unless he’s way more of a badass than he looks.”

Finn resisted the urge to smile. Instead he just nodded at her to continue. He hoped he looked like the strong and silent type. She rolled her eyes. “It’s your funeral.” She turned back to Rafe. “It’s the Eight Ball, that gin mill just at the edge of town.”

Rafe’s eyebrows rose. “You’re not hanging out there now, are you?”

Audra snorted. “You kidding me? I’ve got enough scars, thank you very much.” She stood up painfully. “That it? ‘Cause that’s all I got. You know the way out.”

Finn followed Rafe out of Audra’s front door. They had walked to the end of the lot and had just hit the sidewalk when Finn couldn’t contain himself. “Okay, what was the point of that exercise?”

Rafe said, “Audra and her grandmother know most everything that goes on in this town. If they don’t know about it, it’s not worth knowing. I figured they’d have some idea about the disappearances.”

“What’s with her?”

Rafe cut his eyes over at him. “You mean the attitude? Or the scars?”

“Both.” Finn would be lying if he said he didn’t want to know about them.

Rafe ran a hand through his shaggy hair. This time his hair was cut that way deliberately, not because he’d been neglected and forgotten. Finn had forgotten for a second how much the kid had in common with Audra. “She hates my family—no big surprise there. Audra used to run with Teresa’s crew, but then they turned on her for some reason. I never found out why and Audra won’t talk about it, even now. Anyway, the girls nearly killed her—she almost lost a leg and was in the hospital for weeks after.”

“I figured something like that may have happened.” Finn wasn’t an idiot and the subtext between Rafe and Audra had been so obvious that it could almost be called text. “Did she give you anything to go on?”

“Not much. And I’m not sure we’re properly equipped for the Eight Ball.”

“How bad can it be?” Finn had been in plenty bars up in the mountains. Some were a little rough, but he’d never had a problem before. He was the kind of guy that could get along anywhere.

Rafe gave him a wary side-eye, but said nothing.

Chapter Seven

Finn told himself that the next time his companion said they weren’t properly equipped to go somewhere he would listen. If his body wasn’t found in a shallow grave somewhere, that is. At this point, he wasn’t entirely sure if that was outside of the realm of possibility.

The Eight Ball was so far beyond the kind of dive bars Finn was used to as to almost be from another planet. This was a blue collar biker bar, not some college beer bar. The floor was dusty from the dirt that came from construction sites, brought in by countless pairs of work boots stepping over the threshold. The music was mostly old rock and country. The furniture was wooden, scarred, and full of large, unpleasant-looking men. There were a couple of pool tables in the back, all with games going.

The men who populated the place—because there wasn’t a woman to be seen, not even behind the bar—wore work clothes: flannel shirts over stained and singed white t-shirts, heavy work pants or jeans, or biker gear. A lot had the weathered look of those who are out of doors in the hot sun. A few looked like human jerky.

None of them looked remotely friendly.

He wished he’d worn something a little more rugged and a little less likely to get his ass kicked. His cargo shorts and faded t-shirt were fine for hanging around the house in Miami, but in this joint they looked ridiculously out of place. He should have worn leather. Maybe something with rivets. Or possibly studs.

If Finn looked out of place, Rafe looked like he was from the outer edges of the galaxy. But if the kid was bothered, he didn’t let on, nodding at a few men seated at tables throughout the dark room. Finn suspected that Rafe would feel at home here if Finn weren’t tagging along. That thought made Finn wonder even more what Rafe’s home life had been like.

Finn kept abreast of Rafe as they walked to the bar, his eyes scanning the room for anyone who looked like they might want to start trouble. Of course, that would be the entire bar, Finn noted, barely managing not to roll his eyes at his own idiocy. He tried not to hunch his shoulders, a byproduct of feeling like he had a giant target painted on his back.

Rafe caught the bartender’s eye; not hard when he was so obviously underage. Words were exchanged—it was hard to hear over the jukebox—and then the bartender jerked his thumb toward the door. Rafe grabbed Finn’s arm and pulled him back outside.

Finn shook off Rafe’s grip almost immediately. “What are you doing?”

“Bartender told me Shane’s out back,” Rafe answered, unconcerned.

“And you believed him?” Finn could just imagine the welcome party waiting for them at the back of the seedy establishment.

He could tell that Rafe was ignoring him, but Finn thought the kid was crazy. They could be walking into an ambush. “How do you know about this place anyway?”

“It didn’t always used to be so rough.” Rafe didn’t take his eyes off the perimeter of the building, naturally watchful. “My dad—before he left—used to bring me here on payday to cash his check. He got me a Yoohoo while he had a couple of beers.”

“How long ago was that?” The Eight Ball now seemed to cater to bikers, possible ex-cons, and some construction workers, but it certainly wasn’t the kind of place for father and young son bonding time.

“Ten years,” Rafe said with a shrug.

Finn shook his head. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they don’t serve Yoohoo in there anymore.” He followed the young werehyena around the side of the building with no further comment.

Four werehyenas were gathered around an old pickup truck, peering under the vehicle’s open hood. Finn knew they were hyenas because any of them could have subbed in for a runway show should all of Calvin Klein’s male models contract the plague all at once. The four men all turned as he and Rafe crunched across the gravel lot.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the hyenas sized them up. Finn tried to keep his face neutral, but it was hard because he was suddenly seized with the overwhelming urge to laugh. He bit the inside of his cheek to try and keep it together.

Two of the men pushed away from their perusal of the engine and walked over to meet them. Finn could tell they meant trouble; the swagger in their walk and the scent they were putting off confirmed it. His eyes skidded to Rafe, who had stopped, eyeing the approaching men warily.

“We’re here to talk to Shane,” he called.

The two men stood before them, barring the way. Finn knew he and Rafe could go around if they needed to, but he also knew that wasn’t the point of this exercise. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. He had no doubt that there was going to be some kind of fight involved. In the meantime, he eyed the man standing in front of him. Dude was old, perhaps late forties, and solidly built. He had a few inches on Finn, but Finn was definitely bulkier than this guy.

The one in front of Rafe was more of a problem. That guy was big, bigger than Finn. He wasn’t as tall, but he more than made up for the difference in bulk. He was younger, perhaps mid-thirties, but the scars on his hands and face made it clear that here was a guy used to fighting for a living. He could snap Rafe over his knee without breaking a sweat.

“Shane’s not available,” the younger of the two hyenas said.

“He called me.” Rafe’s frown deepened to a scowl. Clearly the kid didn’t like being jerked around anymore than Finn did. “Not the other way around.”

The two men didn’t seem to care. Either Rafe had been given bad information by the bartender or else Shane had changed his mind about speaking to them. The kid seemed to come to that conclusion too, because he sighed and said, “Fine.” He called out to the two men standing next to the truck, “If you see Shane, tell him I stopped by.” Rafe turned to Finn. “Let’s get out of here.”

Rafe turned to leave, putting his back to the two men. Finn was a bit more circumspect and kept an eye on them as he backed up. The older man stood there, eyeing him, but stayed where he was. Finn suspected they didn’t have orders to hurt them, just mess with them a bit. He didn’t really understand what was going on, but he thought it a good idea to get the hell out of Dodge.

“Not a good idea to turn your back on me,” the younger man said, shoving Rafe hard in the middle of his back. The teen stumbled forward, nearly going down before regaining his balance. He spun growling, but he was nowhere near a match for this guy.

Finn had enough. If this guy wanted to prove he was tough, he should do it with someone more his size—not mention someone who wasn’t still in high school. With a glance at the older man, who still hadn’t moved, the werewolf grabbed Jerkwad—as Finn was now calling him—by the shoulder, stopping him from swinging on Rafe.

Unfortunately, that meant Jerkwad swung on him. Finn was ready though, already ducking. Jerkwad was big, but he was also slow, which made Finn’s job a lot easier. He’d grown up with an older brother; if he hadn’t learned how to take down bigger opponents, he wouldn’t have been able to hold his own in the pack. “How’s about you wait until he’s out of diapers before pummeling his internal organs to paste?”

“Hey!” Rafe shouted, sounding indignant.

“You want to take his place?” Jerkwad snarled.

Finn shrugged. “Sure.” He took a look at the three hyenas, but they seemed more curious than anything. He wouldn’t have to worry about them, unless Jerkwad over here called for backup, which was unlikely considering how big the guy’s ego was. Still, he’d need to keep an eye out for blindsides.