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A pair of handcuffs tucked in the side pocket of her dark green cargo pants, Veda Pearl stepped out of her SUV. A spiky hairstyle, plum colored lipstick and heavy eyeliner completed the militant look. Intimidating her prey gave her an edge and tonight her target was sucking down beers in McDougal’s Tavern. Veda had learned the hard way, never wear anything she wasn’t willing to burn after apprehending a fugitive.

When it came to bail jumpers, fear and anger went hand-in-hand with spit and vomit.

Wedged between an appliance store with going-out-of business signs plastered across its dirty windows and an unoccupied storefront, the tavern’s door declared Established 1964 in peeling gold paint. A neon beer sign burned brightly in the tavern’s solitary window.

Veda looked up and wrinkled her sensitive nose.

A waxing moon hung in a sky broken by thin wispy clouds and the light breeze carried the stench of unwashed human. Twenty feet away a man was huddled in a doorway hugging a filthy duffle bag to his chest. Beyond the doorway a shiny black pickup, too new and expensive for McDougal’s usual clientele, was parked beneath a streetlight.

Shoving her keys into the front pocket of her pants, Veda crossed the street. The thrill of the hunt heightened her senses and heated her blood.

Veda preferred to hunt after sunset, and tonight her prey, a small time hustler called Jesse Lee, should be easy pickings. She’d deliver the bail jumper to the police station and be home by three.

Old man McDougal gave her a brief nod as she stepped inside. The stink of stale cigarette smoke and spilled beer didn’t disguise the heady primal scent of wolf. Discounting the humans sitting at the bar, Veda’s gaze settled on a man standing at the jukebox on the opposite side of the tavern.

He lifted his head but kept his back to her. Veda knew he’d caught her scent. The time of the Lycaon Moon approached. Even in human form her mating scent grew stronger with each passing day.

Fuck! The last thing she needed was a horny were dogging her steps.

Familiarity stirred. Something about his scent tapped her memory and set her heart racing. Her nose had to be playing tricks on her.

The bail jumper slid off his bar stool. His eyes darted away from her to the back door, telegraphing his intent to run.

“Jesse! Don’t do it.”

He flipped her off and spun on his heel. Lunging forward, Veda caught him by the collar and slammed his gut into the bar. Planting her knee to his ass, she grasped a wrist and pulled it behind his back.

“Come on, Veda. I’m gonna do real time. I’ll pay you whatever it takes.”

Reaching into her pocket, she yanked out the cuffs. “Hey, McDougal, has Jesse paid his tab?”

“I don’t have the money on me now. Mac knows I’m good for it.”

The old man shook his head.

Jesse tried to slip out of his jacket but Veda kept a firm grip on his wrist and snapped a cuff in place. She grasped the other wrist and secured him while a stream of profanity spewed from his mouth. “Shut up, Jesse.”

At the far end of the bar a big guy with hair hanging halfway down his back rose from his stool. His stained white tee shirt sported a motorcycle logo. Using Jesse as a shield, she hooked a hand in his belt and backed toward the door.

The big guy’s upper lip lifted in a contemptuous sneer. “Let him go.”

“Jesse, tell your friend to back off.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

Taking a step back, Veda dragged Jesse with her. “Motorcycle guy, what’s your name?”

The guy fisted his hands. “Frank.”

“Look, Frank. Jesse didn’t make his court date. If I don’t take him tonight, I’ll have to get him tomorrow.”

“I don’t give a fuck about Jesse. I don’t like bounty hunters. I especially don’t like cunt bounty hunters.” Frank charged. Then he dropped to his knees, hitting the scarred plank floor with a heavy thwack. The big guy’s face contorted in pain.

The were stood behind Frank holding his ponytail like a hangman’s noose. He released the hank of hair and rubbed his palm on his jeans. Veda’s breath froze in her lungs as amber eyes locked gazes with her. Her nose hadn’t been lying.

Kane!

The last three years had given his face a sexy maturity and his eyes an intensity she felt down to her core. He’d cut his beautiful long hair and wore a shorter, more conventional style. Faded jeans hugged his lean hips and a dark tee shirt clung to his muscled chest. He wore flip-flops.

Fuck! Why him? Why now? “Hello, Kane.”

“Veda.” Her name sounded sultry on his lips. “It’s been a long time.”