The Vow (Black Arrowhead #1) - Dannika Dark Page 0,12
and I struggled not to gag when I realized it wasn’t beef. Probably deer meat, or maybe something else was added as filler. I quickly shoved a handful of fries into my mouth and washed it down with root beer. “Do you know where I can find a man named Shikoba?”
He rested his forearms on the bar, and I spied a grease stain on his button-up denim shirt. “Are you law?”
“No. Just a friend.”
Jimmy leaned over the bar to grab a stack of napkins. “You’re friends with an injun?”
“Quiet down,” Red snapped.
Oh, what redneck hell did I just walk into?
I’d visited Oklahoma several times, and usually the locals were amiable people. Then again, I’d never been around these parts. Regardless of the flagrant use of offensive words, I had a job to do, and someone in here might be able to point me in the right direction so I could be on my merry way.
Red leaned in and said quietly, “Don’t mind him. He recently lost his mate and ain’t been himself.”
“Do you know anyone by that name?” I asked Red.
Jimmy leaned forward and pushed up his camo hat with his index finger. “They all sound the same to me. Like someone hacking up a lung.”
My blood boiled. Thank the fates Hope hadn’t come with me, or else I would have gotten my arrows out of the car and taught Jimmy some manners.
The thought was still playing out in my head while I methodically folded my map, making sure each crease was precise. “I just assumed you guys were local and knew everyone around here. My mistake.”
Someone circled around to my right, slowly, so I would feel his presence as he appraised me. When the black-haired man spoke, it was edged with humor. “Twenty dollars says she’s a bobcat.”
I smiled up at him. “I’ve got thirty riding on you being an asshole.”
His eyebrows arched high. “Yep. She’s lippy. Definitely a predator. Grizzly?”
Jimmy spoke gruffly. “She’s not a grizzly.”
The bartender laughed. “And how do you know that, Jimmy? She bathes?”
Then the power flickered, followed by a crash of thunder. Several men in the back hollered, clearly enjoying the light show outside.
I ate more fries, amused by the banter among the men. It wasn’t uncommon for Shifters to have a little fun with the tourists by guessing their animal. It had become a recreational pastime, and my old pack had engaged in the same behavior numerous times back at Howlers on a slow night.
I whipped my head around when I heard a baaaa.
The bartender peered over the bar. “Will one of y’all get Freddy the hell out of here? Damn drunk. Hurry up before he shits on my floor.”
Jimmy slid off his barstool and picked up the goat. “Come on, Freddy. You ain’t supposed to be in here on the weekdays, anyhow.”
And just when I thought things couldn’t get any stranger…
A formidable man entered the bar. His brown hair, just past his shoulders, blew forward and tangled when a gust of wind carried in the strong smell of rain. Lightning flashed behind him, and he didn’t so much as flinch at the thunderclap. He stood at the entrance as if he were guarding it, his blue eyes arresting.
Chills swept over my arms, and for the first time, I felt butterflies in my stomach. Not the kind you got when danger was imminent but something else entirely, something that made me suck in a breath and hold it.
Lakota Cross, Hope’s older brother, had matured into a handsome man whose very presence commanded attention. It was as if he’d shed every last boyish feature he’d carried into his twenties. Now thirty, he possessed a magnetic aura—one that could easily be mistaken for an alpha wolf, even though he wasn’t.
The white T-shirt beneath his leather jacket hugged his body. Not an ounce of fat was visible. I was so used to seeing him in sweatshirts or long shorts that it took me a second to soak it all in. He tucked his hands in his jeans pockets and fell into a staring contest with Jimmy, whose lip curled at the sight of him. Just as Jimmy exited the building, two Natives entered the bar and flanked Lakota.
They garnered stares from a few men sitting at the bar. It was in that moment that it occurred to me that all the men sitting in the booths on the other side of the divider wall were Native American, and none of the men on my side were.