Chapter~11~The hunt and the hunted.

Nicholas~

I have been watching and learning Harley’s routine since I arrived in LA on Wednesday. Each night, I follow her home to ensure she arrives safely, refusing to consider that she may have someone waiting for her. So far, I haven’t seen a significant other, which makes us happy.

Harley’s second-floor apartment’s bedroom window faces the parking lot, and I stay each night until her light goes out. A look at my watch tells me she’ll be leaving the station soon; Harley is always the last one out. As I’m getting into my car to drive to the police station, her car pulls into the local cop bar’s parking lot across the street from my motel.

After double-taking just to be sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks, a new thrill shot through me when I focused on the license plate. Then my eyes focused on her, and I watched Harley and another human female get out of their cars. They first approached a group of four women dressed in a way that left little to the imagination before going inside.

Unable to resist the pull of getting closer than fifty feet from her, I waited a few minutes before getting out of the car and heading to McGilleys. Three of the ‘ladies’ shooed away from the bar’s front stoop, headed off down the street towards another bar on the strip, while the fourth one spots me and approaches as I am crossing the street.

She looked me up and down with a gleam in her eye. My intention was to pass her by until she laid her hand on my arm. Zeek is growling at her for contacting us as the bleach-blonde with too much makeup bats her overdone fake eyelashes at me.

“Hey there, big boy, do you want some company?” she asked.

“No, thank you, I am meeting someone.”

The lady isn’t taking no for an answer, and she sways her hips into my path when I attempt to pass her by. We can smell raw sex and lubricant from multiple partners on her, and it isn’t in the least bit pleasant or enticing. I’d never understood the lure of the human male to any pussy that is available.

I may be the pot calling the kettle black, but at least I learned from my mistake. Even if all four of the sisters on Thumb Street were beyond repair, I would learn to jack off with my feet before I’d send my member into the stench of her nonexclusive club. She runs her hand over the full moon rising tattoo on my forearm.

“Are you sure? I will show you a good time, anything you want, for the right price. You know you want to.”

That is the limit for my wolf; he tells me to remove her, or he will. “I am not much for overused hand-me-downs.”

She huffed at me as if I had just offended her delicate emotions. “It’s your loss, buddy!”

Her overestimation of herself gives me a chuckle. “And someone else’s gain of a venereal disease.”

“Fuck you, asswhole!”

“Not if your life depended on it!”

Her fists clenched at her side, and her face turned as red as a cherry. She tossed her hair, probably fake as well, over her naked shoulder and turned her nose up at me before turning on her heel and stalking off down the street to catch up with her friends. We continue and wind up standing in line for what seems like hours, waiting to get in.

I’m eager to get my eyes on Harley again, though I am over 6ft, I still can’t get a clear view around the crowd. However, to my displeasure, I see wall-to-wall cops filling the place, and it makes my skin crawl. Also, I realized I stick out like a sore thumb, having not given much thought to my attire until now. There are enough suits in here to stock a men’s warehouse for the next year.

Finally, I get to the front of the line and show the bouncer my ID, and he stamps the back of my hand; he, too, is eyeing me suspiciously. Still, I worked my scuffed boots, blue jeans, half-buttoned up button-up shirt-wearing self through the crowd, to the back, and settled at a corner table where I could see Harley.

She and her friend are already sitting at the bar. I do like the way her ass looks spread over the round stool. I have something more comfortable for her to sit on! Zeek growls at me for having dirty thoughts about his princess.

‘She is a Lycan female to be respected, not your plaything!’

Oh, but what fun it would be to have Harley as my pet. ‘We aren’t here to drool over her, Zeek.’

But isn’t that what I am doing? The waitress came over, and I ordered my signature Crown and Sprite over the roar of the band without taking my eyes off of Harley, taking note that she likes tequila. The waitress looks at me and asks me to repeat my order, then hits the back of my hand with a flashlight. It’s an acquired taste, I suppose; with the stamp lit up over 21, she walks away towards the bar.

‘I bet I can get her to leave with me.’

‘Not a chance in hell, Nick!’

‘You scared? If you’re scared, say so.’

‘I am not! Place your bet.’

‘When I get Harley to leave this bar with me, you will let me handle this MY way, not another word from you.’

‘Ok, Nick, and when Harley shoots you in the foot, you will come clean about everything.’

‘Deal, watch and learn, buddy.’

The waitress comes back with my drink, and she sets the glass down on the table. “Give detective Gibson another round on my tab.”

‘No fair trying to get her drunk, Nick!’

‘She was already drinking Zeek; it’s not like I am forcing her.’