Chapter 1

Ryan doesn’t like the look of the bar to which he’s been directed. It isn’t his usual place or a bar he’s passed by in his time living in L.A. The bar is in the warehouse district, and he’s gotten a taxi as close as he could, then walks the rest of the way, clutching his apartment keys in his pocket in case this is a set up.

Ryan guesses that, when asked where you can meet a kind of criminal, you’re not going to be told to meet him in a well-lit Starbucks. The bar looks kind of grubby, but Ryan takes a breath and goes to the entrance. There isn’t a line outside or anyone guarding the door, so Ryan walks inside. It’s nowhere near as bad as he had imagined, no blood on the walls or dust on the floor.

There’s a stage where someone’s playing guitar, people at the bar, and tables around the room. Only a few people look up when Ryan enters, and none of them appear threatening. Ryan should have known better than to judge a bar by its location and exterior. Many things are not what they seem. He, himself, is not what he seems.

He’s ordinary enough, tall, thin, messy black hair, and blue eyes. He’s good-looking, or so he’s been told, but far from a male model in face or physical appearance. He looks human, but he’s a shifter. His second form is a raven, but only other shifters would be able to tell he’s not human.

Ryan glances around the bar. He can sense other weres, but he’s not sure where the one he’s looking for is located, so he makes his way to the bar.

“What can I get you?” the barman asks. He’s tall, dark-skinned, with a hint of an African accent, although Ryan isn’t familiar enough to narrow it down more.

“I’d like a beer, please, and maybe some information?” Ryan leans against the bar, as always feeling a little lanky and awkward. He never knows what to do with all his limbs.

“No one sells drugs here,” the barman says sharply.

“I wasn’t looking for drugs. Do I look like an addict?” Ryan frowns. He’s in black jeans and a black leather jacket. He thought he looked casual, like he wouldn’t stand out in a new place

“Anyone can be an addict, from a Wall Street banker to a guy on the street, so you could be. I don’t know you.” The man hands over a beer.

Ryan pays. “You’re right, but I’m not here for drugs. I was told I could find someone here.”

“Depends who you’re looking for and why,” the bartender says, picking up a glass to dry with a cloth.

“I’m looking for a man called Ian West. I want to hire him.” Ryan doesn’t want to share the details of the job with more strangers than necessary. He’s already taking a lot of risks tonight.

“He might be around. Let me see if he’s talking to people tonight. Go sit over there.” The bartender points to an empty table in the corner.

Ryan takes his drink and sits at the table, trying to keep his head down because, as ordinary as this place looks on the inside, Ryan has been told things that suggest dangerous people like to hang out here.

After a while, a man comes closer and catches his eye. The man is also tall, broad, with short sandy-blonde hair and light gray eyes. He’s wearing a leather trench coat over dark clothes, and he keeps stepping closer till he’s pulling out a chair and sitting opposite Ryan. He’d been told Ian West was handsome and not to let that fool him, so Ryan thought he’d been prepared. But something about the stranger makes Ryan’s stomach tighten with lust.

“Are you Ian?” Ryan asks to be sure.

“You have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name,” Ian says, setting down a glass of whiskey on the rough, wooden tabletop.

“My name is Ryan Hunter, and I was told you might be able to help me.”

“Who told you about me? I try to keep a low profile, Ryan.” Ian says his name slowly, like he’s testing it, and Ryan likes the sound of it on Ian’s tongue.

“Mr. Anderson told me about you.” Ryan knows he has to be careful. He doesn’t want to tell this stranger everything, but if he doesn’t tell him enough, he won’t get the job done. He senses he’s going to need to be a good liar. Luckily, he’s been playing poker for twenty years, since he was ten. He wins more than he loses most of the time, partly down to skill, partly luck, but mostly a good poker face.