He went through the work agreement as I studied the notebook. Starr's estate consisted of over fifty acres of forest and paddocks. The house itself was a huge, square-shaped, double-story complex that featured not only a soccer field sized arena in the middle of the square, but an Olympic sized pool and a huge gym complex. Set apart from the main building were several smaller ones, including quarters for security and the prostitutes. The barn and the zoo were on the opposite side of the complex to these. Behind them was a manmade lake apparently big enough to yacht on.
"Standard work agreement," Jack said, after a while.
"The only interesting point is agreeing to have your memories 'rearranged' when you leave."
"Which is what is happening to the whores."
He nodded and glanced at his watch. "We'll drop you off near the meeting point at one. That gives you an hour to read the rest of the notes as well as the contract."
So I read and memorized while he studied the banks of monitors. What he was looking for I had no idea, especially since there didn't seem to be a lot happening on them. At one, they dropped me off at a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet. Obviously, he'd heard my stomach rumbling. Either that, or it was a last meal for the doomed. I grabbed a dinner for two—once again thanking my lucky stars that a werewolf's increased metabolic rate made it almost impossible for me to gain weight once I'd hit adulthood—then headed down to the meeting point to see who else might be waiting.
Three women were already there. Two were sullen excuses of womanhood, thin and rangy looking—in that long distance runner sort of way. The third was taller, broader, with spiky, bleached-blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. She had tats up her arms and trouble written all over her sharp features. I would have categorized her as punk, except for the way she stood. It wasn't the typical, bite me or fight me stance that so many of the street kids in need of an attitude adjustment had, but rather that of someone who fought for a living. Light on her toes.
I gave her a nod, ignored the other two, and sat on a nearby brick fence to eat my chicken. Animosity rode the air, coming from the direction of the rangy chicks rather than the toey one, but neither of them said anything as other women began to roll up. By two, we had a full complement, and a good cross-reference of shapes, colors, and race. I didn't see another werewolf, but there were werecats, a bear-shifter, bird-shifters, and a sly-looking woman with red hair and reddish skin who surely had to be a werefox. The arena was going to be interesting, to say the least.
The bus rolled in about five minutes after the last woman had arrived, and a big man with slate gray hair climbed off. "Okay, ladies," he bellowed, in a drill sergeant tone. "When I read your name, you will board the bus."
He began snapping off names, and like obedient little soldiers, we rose and entered the bus. I hesitated on the top step, my gaze sweeping the semidarkness. There were plenty of empty seats, but most of the women already aboard had chosen to sit near the back. The bear-shifter sat about halfway down, her large frame barely squeezing into the seat. Her gaze, when it met mine, was challenging, as if daring me to sit with her, so I walked down the aisle and plonked down on the scat opposite hers.
"The little wolf is game," she said, her voice a rumble that seemed to come from somewhere deep. "Most of the others seemed a little afraid to come close."
"The wolf is only little compared to some." I made a show of looking her up and down. She was a big woman—in all ways—but the crow's-feet touching the corners of her brown eyes, along with the dimples in her cherub cheeks, suggested a good nature that was at odds with the attitude she was projecting and the fierce reputation bear-shifters had. "But with mitts like that, you can hardly blame them. I think they should be labeled an unfair advantage."
She laughed—a booming, merry sound that had me grinning. "You could be right there, wolf." She leaned forward and offered me one of her oversized paws. "Bernadine. Berna to my friends."
"Poppy." I grinned as her hand wrapped around mine. Though her grip was strong, it wasn't menacing or testing. A woman confident in her own strength and not needing to advertise the fact to others. "Pencil me in as a friend, Berna. I've got a feeling it could get dangerous to be considered anything else."
"And you might have that right, too, wolf." She grinned. "Sorry, but Poppy just doesn't seem to suit you."
"It's not a moniker I would have chosen, but my parents didn't exactly give me the choice." Nor did my goddamn boss.
The two sullen-looking women climbed on board, hesitating as I had on the top step as their gazes swept the bus. Both sneered when their gaze came to rest on me, then they turned as one and sat two seats in from the front of the bus.
Berna gave me an amused glance. "Are we taking bets on the fact that they're twins?"
"Twins don't echo each other's movements like those two do." Hell, my brother would kill me if I started parroting his movements like that. "The sync of those two is almost creepy."
"Which is why I bet twins. Separated at birth."
"Or they're just plain weird."
She chuckled. "I think we're all weird. After all, here we are, sitting on a bus, waiting to be taken to God knows where."
"The money made me do it."
"Me, too. Have to wonder about some of the others, though."
Military guy climbed on at that point, cutting off the immediate chance to ask what she meant. As the doors swished shut, he said, "Okay, ladies, listen up." He waited until the slight murmur of conversation died, then continued, "As you will have noted in your contracts, the owner of the estate you are being driven to wishes to keep its location secret, so the windows will be blacked out in a moment and a curtain pulled across the front of the bus. The interior of the bus will be monitored, however, and anyone caught attempting to look out the windows will lose their position."
"I can't remember any mention of paranoia in the contract," I muttered.
Berna snorted softly. Military guy gave me a glare. "You have read and signed the contract, have you not?"
"I have."
"Then you will know backchat is not acceptable."
"And if you have read my file, you will know that is one of my more charming personality traits."
"Riley, shut the fuck up," Jack said into my ear. "You do not need to be shoved off the bus just yet."
I bit my bottom lip to restrain my grin and wished I could remind him that he was the one who'd made Poppy the mouth, not me.
Military guy's expression was less than happy. "Insolence may be good for the ring, but it will lose you money out of it."
"You'd dock my pay?"
"It was in the contract."
"Bugger. Guess I should have read it better."
His frown darkened, but his gaze moved on. Several of the woman sitting in the back of the bus shifted uncomfortably, and I wondered whether the cause was military guy's fearsome gaze or the realization they might have gotten themselves into more than they bargained for. Certainly I could "feel" concern in the air—and the mere fact that I was sensing that was a cause of concern for me. Since when had I been able to sense emotions? I'd always been able to sense Quinn's, true, but that was due to the extraordinary connection between us… wasn't it?
"Those of you who have read the contract"—the emphasis left me in no doubt who that particular comment was aimed at, but then, it didn't exactly take a rocket scientist to work that out—"will no doubt be aware that there is one final test on reaching the estate—an obstacle course. If you do not complete this course, you will fail and be returned to the pickup point. If you shift shape during the course, you will also fail."