Which was why she was a little shocked when a familiar scent tickled her nose. She smelled a werewolf. And it wasn’t Caleb or Jake. Even with her less-than-reliable nose, she knew that for sure.
What were the chances of another werewolf in the club not being connected to an alleged supernatural trafficking ring?
Harley stopped and sniffed the air, trying to be as subtle as she could. Then she was moving again, intent on tracking the scent to its source. Should she radio the team about her discovery or wait until she had more information? As sketchy as her nose was, it was possible the other werewolf had been in the club days ago and she was simply picking up residual scent.
She wove through the crowd, circling dance floors and around tables, then moved through an archway that led to a set of dimly lit concrete stairs and the lower level Jake had asked her and Caleb to find. She absently listened to her teammates reporting in over the radio, saying they still hadn’t found anything. Tuning them out, she focused on her nose, trusting it to lead her down the steps even as she lost the trail more than once.
There was yet another dance floor downstairs, this one filled with people moving to a much less chaotic rhythm than those on the level above. There were fewer flashing lights, too. That should have made it easier to scan the room and locate the source of the scent that had drawn her down there, but nobody stood out.
Maybe she was completely wrong about the scent.
Maybe it wasn’t a werewolf at all.
Then she caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of her eye that made her snap her head around, but she didn’t see anyone. Sure she’d seen something, she skirted the outside of the dance floor in that direction. She was starting to question herself again when she spotted a tall, attractive guy with broad shoulders, casually disheveled brown hair, and scruff on his square jaw. He was circling the dancers on the floor in much the same way Harley was but in the opposite direction, keeping pace with her so they stayed exactly opposite each other.
Yeah, like that’s a coincidence.
A little voice in the back of her head told her to get on the radio and call Caleb and the rest of her teammates, but she ignored it, too mesmerized by the handsome man across the room from her. Every few seconds, piercing blue eyes locked with hers, making something inside her—maybe her inner wolf—feel a sensation she didn’t recognize.
Even if she hadn’t picked up on the scent, Harley would have known he was a werewolf from the graceful, animalistic way he moved.
He was a predator, no doubt about it.
Was he a kidnapper as well?
She wanted to say he’d never do anything like that, which was an asinine thing to consider about a man she’d never met.
Tired of stalking in circles, Harley stopped, turning carefully to keep her eyes on the big werewolf as he moved closer. She wasn’t sure, but for a brief moment, she thought she caught sight of what might have been a smile tugging at his sensuous mouth.
The other werewolf—an alpha most definitely—strode past the last few people separating them and came to a halt a few feet away. Harley couldn’t ignore that the man in front of her was possibly the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen.
Which pretty much guaranteed he was one of the bad guys. Because that was how her luck worked out when it came to the opposite sex.
Harley took a single step forward and felt a tingle in her stomach when he did the same, that dangerous smile showing up again. She took another few steps toward him when his head whipped to the side. She looked that way, too, trying to see what had attracted his attention, and caught sight of two men slipping behind a black velvet curtain covering a section of the far wall. The second guy cast a furtive glance over his shoulder before disappearing.
That isn’t suspicious at all.
She turned back to the alpha werewolf, but he was already striding in that direction. She quickly followed, knowing she should call the rest of the team, but once again, her instincts insisted she hold off. By the time she slipped behind the curtain, all she saw was another set of stairs. The mysterious werewolf was nowhere to be found.
She paused long enough to slide a hand under her dress and pull the small frame Glock 9mm from the tiny holster strapped to her upper thigh, chambering a round as she started down the steps, rather proud of how comfortably she handled a loaded weapon. Considering that before joining STAT she’d never even held a gun, she thought she was doing rather well.
From down below, she heard the rhythmic sound of rapid footsteps along with the soft murmur of voices but no music or partying people or anything else to make her think this was a part of the dance club open to the public. Whatever the hell those two guys had come down here for, it probably wasn’t on the up-and-up.
Lit only by three low-watt bulbs mounted in cobweb-covered fixtures hanging from the rough stone ceiling, the room at the bottom of the steps was filled with crates, racks of empty bottles, and bags of trash. The dim glow was barely enough to throw shadows, but Harley didn’t need a lot of light to see the werewolf standing a few feet away, his broad back to her, a pistol down at his side.
“You always bring a gun when you go to a nightclub?” he asked without looking at her.
His voice was as deep as she’d imagined it would be, a little rough with a hint of a British accent, like he’d traveled extensively for much of his life and lost a bit of the distinctive sound over time.
“A girl has to be careful these days,” Harley said, smiling even though she was standing in the middle of a filthy storage room twenty feet underground with an alpha werewolf who’d probably lured her down here with kidnapping in mind—or worse. “I’ve heard big cities can be dangerous.”
The man turned to look at her, blue eyes piercing even in the dimness as they slid up and down her body. “If you think it might be dangerous, why come to Paris? And all the way from America, if I’m not mistaking the accent.”
The Brit’s perfectly sculpted nose lifted a little, his nostrils flaring the slightest bit, like he was trying to take in a scent he found tantalizing. Harley knew he was picking up her pheromones and couldn’t help wondering what she smelled like to him.
Did he like her scent?
Did she care if he did?
“You know the song ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun,’ right?” She approached him slowly, glancing around and trying to figure out where the other two men had gone. “Maybe visiting potentially dangerous places is how I have fun.”
“Strange hobby,” he said, his voice dropping down an octave to practically make her tummy vibrate…as well as regions a bit farther south. “I prefer reading, but whatever. You do you.”
Harley lifted a brow, lowering her gun to a safe position. “Is that what you’re doing down in this dank, dark room?” She stepped to the side a little, making him circle to the right as they resumed the little dance they’d done upstairs. “Looking for a good book?”