Wolver's Reward Read Free

young and well-dressed couple
making their way through an unguarded parking lot. Their gait was
unsteady and he could smell the alcohol on them as they passed.
They were easy prey, but he decided against it. Though it was
several hours away, Alpha Goodman considered this city to be his
turf and Ryker would rip River a new one if he got a whiff of what
he'd done. The only prey those two believed in was the kind you
could eat.
    Shit! Why did he care about Charles' or
Ryker's fucking moral code? He was two blocks away when it hit him
that their opinions no longer mattered. He pulled a U-turn in the
middle of the block and sped back, but he was too late. He arrived
at the parking lot just as driver's door closed. The anger boiled
up inside him again until he thought he would explode with it.
    He needed to run, free and wild. He needed to
run until his body burned off the madness, but the full moon was
still a few days off. He felt her call, an insistent lover willing
him to find the power within himself to follow her, but shifting
wasn't something you could do in the middle of a city street.
Instead, he followed his nose and let his innate memory system take
him back to the motel by the shortest route which included two
wrong turns onto one-way streets and one blind alley. His anger was
somewhat abated by the reckless ride, but his room felt more like a
cage.
    He took to the streets again, this time
stopping two blocks away at a bar he'd passed earlier in the
evening. Then, there had been six bikes parked in the small lot.
Now, there were two dozen. Built like a wooden shed addition on the
end of a short row of older brick storefronts, the place was long
and narrow. It was decorated with peeling paint and a wide plate
glass window that held two neon signs. One advertised a popular
beer, the other said OPEN. River wondered how many times the window
was broken before the owner came up with the idea of boarding over
the window from the inside with plywood. To River, that plywood
said welcome.
    River liked the taste of beer, and more than
a time or two he'd sat with packmates tossing back tequila and lime
around a fire, but like most wolvers, he didn't get drunk. Wolver
metabolism ran too high and the alcohol burned out of the system
too fast. It could be done, but it took a lot of booze in a short
amount of time. River wasn't about to waste his hard-earned money
on that when there were faster and more satisfying ways to burn off
steam.
    He parked the Roadliner, and then circled the
lot on foot, taking in the scent of each bike and its rider and
committing it to memory. About half carried the scent of a female
companion. He would try to avoid those riders if he could. His goal
was to blow off steam, not embarrass some poor dumb fuck in front
of his woman. He'd also avoid the owners of the three-wheelers
parked in the handicapped spaces by the door. There was no fun in
that.
    All eyes were on him when he entered through
a door of cracked glass held together with a web of wire mesh
between the layers. It was obviously a local place where few
outsiders ventured. Halfway down, River found an open stool and
ordered a beer on tap and two hamburgers, plain and rare.
    "Or whatever way the shit comes," he said at
the bartender's blank stare.
    The guy was beefy with a belly that overhung
his belt, but his arms looked powerful from years of tossing cases
of beer and the kegs below the taps. He nodded at River's
correction and bellowed the order to whoever was manning the small
kitchen.
    "Two flat ones. No green."
    River tapped the bar and sauntered to the
back of the place where no sign was needed to indicate the
restrooms. The odor made it obvious. He found his mark at the third
table back sitting with two other guys and a woman who looked as
hard and worn as the old oak floor. The mark was big and old enough
to show some wear, but young enough to take the bait.
    He finished his burgers, which were
remarkably juicy for being well done, and half