Shifting Michelle's Boundaries (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Read Online Free PDF

of new guys.”
    “Just shout if you need any help…” Choker knocked back his whisky and winked. “Not that you ever do.”
    Jack slapped him on the shoulder and sauntered to the bar. He’d met Choker and his crew a few years back. He’d spilled Choker’s beer, and the man-mountain had thrown him through a wall. In response Jack had broken three of Choker’s ribs, put four of his gang through tables, then bought them a round. They’d been fast friends ever since. Jack had even bought a Harley so he could ride with them on occasion, though it had been a long time since he’d last got a chance.
    He waved to the barman and ordered a beer while he watched the two shifters at the other end of the bar. They were new to the area and weren’t making any friends, judging by the looks cast their way by the other patrons. The men were calm at the moment though, it seemed. The taller of the two, a blond with a large neck tattoo, was whispering something into the ear of the other man. No doubt they were discussing Jack. After all, if he could smell them, they could smell him.
    Sure enough, they both turned to stare at him, their expressions somewhere between anger and inebriation. Jack raised his glass and smiled back. There was no rush, after all. Ideally he wanted to catch them doing something they shouldn’t, anyway. Then he’d be justified if the police got involved.
    No local shifters bothered with the police, but who knew what a newbie would do?
    “How’s business, Steve?” he asked the barman, his gaze still on the two shifters.
    “Quiet night, really. Other than the guys you’re eyeballing.”
    Jack nodded and turned back to face Steve. “Surprised Choker’s boys didn’t calm ’em down.”
    Steve shook his head. “They don’t get involved with shifters.”
    Jack smiled. “Wonder who put them off?”
    “I wonder.”
    The general populace wasn’t aware of shifters, or didn’t want to be aware, but the local gangs were no fools. Anyone who spent the majority of their time in the shiftier areas of town, though, had seen enough to put two and two together.
    “They tried to start something earlier,” Steve said, talking about the shifters. “But nobody took the bait.”
    “Well, I’ll keep an eye on them till they leave. Or till they try to start something again.”
    Jack put his glass down and pulled out his cell phone. No messages from Craig yet. It was still early, though. Assuming the meet up went as expected, he’d probably be horizontal. Hopefully all will go well. Craig needed the fun.
    It took almost twenty minutes before one of the shifters came over to Jack. The shorter of the two appeared on his right and clapped him on the shoulder.
    “You smell weird,” he said. His breath stank of rum. “You one of us?”
    Jack shook his head. “Nope.”
    The man squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “I think you are.”
    “Well, I’m not.” Jack shrugged the man’s hand off. “Sorry to disappoint.”
    The man snorted and slapped his hand back onto Jack’s shoulder. A moment later another hand landed on his other. Jack glanced up from his beer to the mirror behind the bar. Blondey had come over, too, it seemed.
    “You looking for trouble?” the new arrival said, his voice low.
    “Whatever gave you that impression?”
    “The fact you’ve been staring at us since you came in,” Shorty said.
    Both hands squeezed Jack’s shoulders. If he was human it would have no doubt hurt like hell. Instead it merely annoyed him.
    “Take your hands off me,” he said quietly.
    “Or what?” Cool, sharp metal met Jack’s neck. Blondey growled. “We have the upper hand, here.”
    The barman, Steve, moved his hand under the bar toward the baseball bat he kept there, but Jack shook his head. Steve nodded and backed away, then gestured to the bar, probably stopping Choker’s boys. Jack shifted his feet, hooking one leg through the rails of the bar stool.
    “And what do you intend to do with this upper