that he could drop by at Cole or Tony's
place any time, but he didn't want to play gooseberry and interrupt
their love fest. He glanced at his watch. When he knocked off work
with the rest of the guys, Dalton was still stuck in a long meeting
with a new supplier. The poor guy was probably dead beat at the end
of the day.
Brad sighed and turned around
to head back up the street. He would just get himself home and have
an early night. Perhaps he should have taken the boys up on their
offer and gone to the strip club with them. But...he wouldn't be
enjoying himself. He used to enjoy these weekly jaunts with the
guys, but recently he found himself yearning for something more,
something real and permanent.
Brad strolled past the
flickering streetlamps, hands stuffed in his pockets. He'd left his
car in the parking lot near the pub, but he wanted to take a walk and
clear his head. They'd had a drinking contest, and he'd won, but
right now he wished he hadn't. He had drunk too much, too fast and
now he was feeling a little light-headed.
Brad forced himself to
increase his pace. He should get himself home quickly and throw his
stinky body under the shower. The smell of cigarette smoke,
barbequed food and beer clung to his skin and shirt. Brad put one
large foot in front of the other, and was pleased to see that he
could still walk in a straight line. He wasn't that drunk then.
A streetlamp went out just
above him. Brad jerked his head up and frowned. With the
streetlamps spaced widely apart, the street was not that well lit.
It didn't bother his shifter senses. His bear could see well enough
in the dark. But the humans in this neighborhood might find the
darkness intimidating and hazardous. They could trip and fall, and
all sorts of unsavory predators might lurk in the shadows and prey on
them. Robbers, rapists, rogues.
Brad's frown deepened when he
glanced around the neighborhood. He had clearly taken a wrong turn.
This wasn't the way home. If anything, he was even farther from
home.
The street looked largely
uninhabited. There were only a few squat, crooked houses along the
street, and most of them were boarded up. Overgrown weeds covered
the front yards and he didn't see any lights in the windows. Brad
blew out a breath. This was probably a part of town that was waiting
for demolition and reconstruction. He had heard the announcement
that some older neighborhoods would be torn down and rebuilt in the
next couple of years. Moonstone Creek was getting a much needed
facelift. It was good for the town's image, good for tourism.
Brad was about to turn his
back on the sad, shadowy street when he heard an anguished cry.
It was a human cry.
He lifted his nose and found
the scent. The scent of fear and anger from a human female.
Brad barreled towards the
scent. The muffled sounds of a struggle grew louder, and the woman's
rising terror enraged his bear. Without warning, his bear burst from
him and thundered towards a low walk-up building at the end of the
street.
He saw the woman, on the
ground. She was struggling with a skinny man wearing a hoodie and
wielding a knife.
Although the man had her
pinned to the ground and had a dangerous looking knife in his grip,
the woman clearly wasn't letting the thug intimidate her into
submission.
She was trying her best to
wrestle the weapon out of the man's hand. The blade swished
dangerously close to her face as they fought, and Brad could hear her
grunts and curses.
She was scared, but she
wasn't letting her fear show.
With a roar, Brad swiped the
man away from her and flung the thug a few meters out onto the road.
The man yelled and scrambled up to face the raging brown bear. He
held his silver knife out in front of him like a talisman, waving it
in Brad's face.
“Silver, it's silver,”
he hissed.
Brad narrowed his eyes. Did
the little shit think that he would run away screaming like a girl at
the sight of silver? Sure, silver would kill him if it found his
heart. But Brad