Packed: The Enforcer: A Shifter Paranormal Romance by Carolyn Faulkner Page A

rebels who needed to be kept a close eye on. Constant confrontations with them were a vicious cycle. They had agreed to a trial period of six months, during which what had been almost weekly raids became monthly, then bi-monthly, then only the occasional annoyance.
    But harassment from the cops was only one problem they faced. Other aggressive packs trying to take over anyone and everyone's territory was an even more serious dilemma.
    One of their rival clubs had ridden into the parking lot of the club one Saturday, more than a year and a half after she'd been welcomed back into the crew, while she was there doing the books. Everyone else was gone on an impromptu run – which could have meant anything from visiting the whorehouse they ran under the table to transporting drugs or guns or even medical or chemical waste; she knew better than to ask for and they didn't offer an explanation. The only people with her who could be counted on to be any help – and it wouldn't be much - were two newbs who had each been with the pack for less than a month and weren't even yet allowed to wear anything with a club insignia. Without hesitation, she threw on the leathers that she had only just earned back and stalked out there to meet their leader, flanked by the two uncertain recruits, after instructing the scrawny barkeep, who was an old, retired member with one eye and only part of his left arm, to call Cash and tell him what was happening.
    "Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips in a no nonsense fashion that also gave them a good look at the Glock she had in a speed holster on her hip. And it was no idle threat. Her father had known that the less scrupulous packs in the area weren't at all above coming at his family, so she had grown up knowing how to handle a gun, and she was a damned fine shot.
    Her bravado drew a chuckle from the White Lights, who she knew were a neo-Nazi pack from the four corners area. They weren't a pack that they were cordial with – one was never really "friends" with another club but rather settled for an uneasy truce in most cases in order to conduct business – and she knew they weren't partnering with them in any capacity for any reason. And they were a very violent bunch. She might have rebelled against all the rules and regulations that governed pack life in the Alpha-Omegas. But she'd take every one of those restrictions over the absolute lawless, anything goes environment that some packs seemed to prefer, claiming it kept them more in touch with their wild side rather than conforming to human laws in any way, shape or form, to say nothing of how atrociously they treated their women.
    Their leader and his beta dismounted to stand in front of her, looking her dismissively up and down at very close quarters before issuing a wolf whistle and saying, "Well, ain't you just a fine piece of ass."
    "No, I'm not. I think you might have me confused with Bing over there." Bing was a slight man who looked barely more than a boy, although he was twenty-three, and seemed to be on the edge of gay but wasn't. What he was, was a virgin, which was something that he hadn't had the common sense to keep to himself around the guys, hence the nickname his compadres hung on him. "I'm Cash Buchanan's sister. Is there something I can do for you?"
    The fact that they ignored that pertinent bit of information had Mari far more worried than their insulting banter. Instead of impressing them with the idea that they needed to respect a female member of a pack leader's family, what she'd said just brought a chorus of snickers from the men behind him. "Oh, honey, it's more what I can do for you!" he said, laughing as he arched his hips towards her while holding his package in his hand and making smooching noises.
    Mari rolled her eyes. "From where I'm standing," she responded calmly, casting a withering glance at what little he was cupping, "even Bing might be too much for you to handle."
    The newbies