Tangling with the Tiger: Lone Pine Pride, Book 5 by Vivi Andrews Read Free Book Online Page B

Huddled over their drinks like they may be snatched away at any moment. Jumping at every stray noise.
    Perfect.
    Dominec moved slowly, making sure they heard him as he approached so he didn’t startle them as he slid onto the barstool two stools down.
    Whiskey, the tigress who ran the bar, looked up from the pint she was drawing and frowned at him. She knew he wasn’t a regular. Knew he had only been in here once in the last two years, but she didn’t question him, just turned to carry the pint across to a table in the center of the room.
    Dominec waited until she returned, biding his time. It wouldn’t pay to rush.
    He propped his arms on the bar as he waited, angling his head so the scars on his face caught the light—just in case the two refugees down the bar had missed them.
    Whiskey returned from her drink delivery with a couple of empty pint glasses and set about rinsing them behind the bar. “Dominec,” she said, her tone far from welcoming. “You drinking?”
    “Coke.”
    She nodded and grabbed a fresh glass, filling it with ice and reaching for the soda gun. She set the drink in front of him and went back to work sliding used glasses into a dish rack, but he didn’t fool himself that she wasn’t listening. Whiskey was notoriously discreet, but she heard everything that happened in this pride.
    And he’d seen her a time or two with Grace. He’d have to tread carefully.
    Dominec sipped his drink, let the light play across his scars, and waited.
    It didn’t take long.
    The one sitting closest jerked his chin toward Dominec’s face. “Organization do that?”
    Dominec nodded, making sure to keep his face angled so they got a good look.
    “ Fuck ,” the one sitting farther down muttered.
    He nodded again, taking another swallow of the soda. It was too syrupy sweet for his taste, but he needed a prop and he didn’t think water would cut it. He let the silence stretch, pretending to enjoy the Coke.
    The one closest, a small, dark-haired man with the unmistakable scent of a badger, spoke again. “These lions. They get you out?”
    Dominec shook his head. “Killed my way out.” He emphasized the first word slightly, letting the violence of the act resonate.
    The one on the end—lynx, bobcat, something like that—murmured an awed curse. The badger lifted his beer, frowning into it. “Wish you’d killed ’em all.”
    “Me too.” Dominec paused, fighting the urge to look toward Whiskey and see how she was reacting to the little bonding session occurring at her bar. He’d let his fellow drinkers bring up the Organization, but he needed to watch his words so his hands stayed clean of whatever was to come. After taking another slow swallow of Coke, he mused into his glass, “I can’t believe any shifter would actually consider letting them live.” He shook his head ruefully. “Taking hostages. What the fuck is that? It’s not like the Organization showed us any mercy.”
    The men huddled over their beers visibly perked up. “Hostages?”
    Dominec feigned surprise. “Didn’t you hear? This last raid. They took a ton of hostages. Put ’em in some barn. Of course, we can’t touch a hair on their fucking heads because they might be valuable . They might have information . So who cares what they did to us, right?”
    The badger snarled. “Fifteen minutes alone. I’ll get that information out of them.”
    The lynx/bobcat/whatever grinned—but it wasn’t pretty. “Hell yeah.”
    Dominec tucked his chin down and lifted his soda in a salute to the idea, saying nothing more. Nothing else needed to be said. The idea had been planted.
    Whiskey appeared in front of him, soda gun in hand to refill his drink. “What are you doing, Dominec?” she asked so softly the words were almost sub-vocal.
    He shrugged and drank down the caffeinated sugar syrup. “Just talking to some of my pride mates.”
    She frowned, whiskey-colored eyes studying him, but said nothing more, moving away down the bar to check on