Wolver's Reward Read Free Page A

his beer before
making his play. He turned on his stool. His smile traveled around
the room to each of the women, noting that half of them looked
pretty good while the other half made the oak faced woman look
pretty good, too.
    "Which of you lovely ladies owns the
Forty-eight in the parking lot?"
    "What's it to ya?" The big guy at the table
asked.
    "Oh, I was just going to compliment them on
their good taste. It's such a pretty little bike." River sounded
innocent enough until he added. "For a fucking pussy."
    Actually, the bike was a pretty sweet looking
ride, but Ryker had told him once that Harley owners tended to be
touchy about anyone badmouthing the name of what they considered
the god of motorcycles. He was disappointed when only the big guy
and his two buddies stood up.
    River shrugged. "Although now that I think
about it, most Harleys are. For fucking pussies, I mean."
    Four others rose to their feet. Now that was
more like it.
    Wolvers weren't that much larger than their
human cousins, but they were a helluva lot stronger and faster, and
Ryker had seen to it that River had more training than most. In
spite of the older wolver's prowess, River was almost ready to take
Ryker to the mat. Ryker had said so himself.
    "If it weren't for that damned temper and
that skinny ass of yours, you'd be ready to challenge my position
in the pack. But until you lose the piss-assed attitude and gain
the pounds, you'll be what you are."
    What he was, was a rogue pup whose mother
hadn't cared enough to give him a real name. They both knew that
physical maturity would bring him the bulk. Ryker must have finally
figured out that the piss-assed attitude was all River had.
    The seven men coming at him were about to
figure that out, too.
    Twenty minutes, one split lip, one torn ear,
and one blackened eye later, River's anger was spent. Two of his
opponents were down for the count, one was on his knees puking up a
bellyful of burgers and beer, and the other four were exhausted and
nursing more cuts and bruises than they'd probably seen in years.
By the way one of them was holding his wrist to his chest, River
thought the guy might have broken it when River spun away from the
punch and he'd hit the edge of the bar instead. Too bad, so
sad.
    The young wolver finished off the last of the
beer from the only glass left upright and unbroken on the bar. He
placed a few bills on the counter, enough to cover the breakage,
and handed the baseball bat back to the bartender.
    "Sorry I had to take it away," he said, "But
you need to be careful with that thing. You could kill somebody if
you're not careful."
    "Who the hell are you?" the bartender
asked.
    River shrugged. "A Yamaha lover."
    The scent of six more bikers struck him as he
exited the bar. They dropped the stands on their bikes, all Harleys
he noted, and six pairs of eyes moved to him in wary recognition.
The leader nodded, wolver to wolver.
    He wasn't much older than River. Tall and
lean, blond hair swept back from a clean shaven face, the wolver
was a blue eyed Adonis who looked more college boy than biker. His
boots looked new and his leather jacket looked too stiff. The men
flanking him looked more like the real thing; older, scuffed, and
scarred. Behind them was another blond, this one built like the
proverbial brick shithouse, big, muscle-bound, and square. His face
was too pretty for his build and when River looked him over, he
flexed his shoulders as if he had something to prove.
    Next to muscle man were two cubs, older than
Dakota and Ranger, but not by much. Any bar but this one would have
turned them away at the door. They were both working hard not to
smile.
    "How's the beer?" Adonis asked and enough
power rippled off him to prove he was an Alpha.
    River lowered his head enough to show respect
for the Alpha's position, but not a half inch more.
    "It's beer. Burgers are good, though don't
bother asking for rare."
    "You got a reason for being here?" the Alpha
asked, like he was looking