Read Online Dog Warrior by Wen Spencer - Free Book Online

the exhaust and engine oil of motorcycles. After the bars and raves of the Beltway, the men were shaggier, dirtier, and more heavily armed. He picked out knives—and in lesser numbers pistols—hidden in boots, in pockets, and under clothing.
    It was a WASP blue-collar bar. He and Ru had dressed down in blue jeans and T-shirts and leather jackets, but everything from the shape of their eyes to the color of their skin set them apart.
    One of Daggit’s Iron Horse peons, Draconis, leaned against the bar, looking up when they came through the door. Recognizing them, he ground out his cigarette, picked up his beer, and sauntered across to greet them.
    â€œDaggit is waiting for you in the back room.” Draconis gave a jerk of his head to indicate a doorway behind him. After getting a nod from Atticus—interestingly Ru didn’trate attention—Draconis led the way down a long narrow hall past restrooms reeking of urine to a back room.
    The walls muted the music, the bass thumping like the heartbeat of a giant beast.
    Five of the Iron Horses sat around a poker table; a single shaded light hung down, throwing harsh shadows on their faces. Crushed cigarette packs, overflowing ashtrays, guns, and crumpled bills littered the table.
    Animal was dealing out cards, making them flash across the table in easy, well-practiced throws. He had a pile of bills in front of him, while the others wore surly looks. “Seven-card stud, black deuces and red fours are wild.”
    A groan went up from the players.
    â€œIf you’re going to do wild cards, j-just make it one or the other,” Rebar cried as the first card landed in front of him. His complaint came too late; his first showing card was a two of diamonds. “Crap. This isn’t poker; it’s a kid’s game.”
    â€œThey’re here,” Draconis announced.
    Daggit’s showing cards were a five of clubs and a nine of hearts. He glanced at his hole cards, frowned, and shoved them back toward Animal without revealing them. “Game’s over. Everybody clear out.”
    â€œAhh, I had two queens,” one complained, flipping over his hole cards.
    â€œI had three kings,” another said, showing a king of hearts, the two of hearts, and the four of spades.
    Animal laughed, flashing his gold tooth. “ Black deuces, red fours.”
    â€œBut last time—”
    â€œWas last time, and this time is this time.” Animal tucked away the bills in a wallet already fat with hundred-dollar bills.
    The sheared lambs fled, leaving the wolves behind to deal a different type of game.
    Atticus gave the opening bid, playing the heavy. “Couldyou’ve picked a place more public? We’ll do this deal, but next time we pick the place.”
    â€œThis is how I do business. My turf. My rules.” Daggit took out a revolver and laid it on the table and then produced bullets with dramatic flair. They were self-loaded shells with silvery tips. “I know about Pack and I’m ready for you.”
    Only confused by the odd display, Atticus glanced to Ru. There was laughter dancing in his partner’s eyes.
    â€œSilver bullets?” Ru guessed.
    â€œDamn right!” Daggit loaded the bullets into the revolver. “The only way to deal with werewolves.”
    â€œWerewolves?” The word slipped out before Atticus could stop himself.
    â€œDo you think we’re stupid?” Daggit ticked factoids off with his fingers. “The Pack. Dog Warriors. Demon Curs. Hell Hounds. Growling like a rabid dog anytime you’re pissed off. Howling at the full moon? Jesus, you might as well have it tattooed on your arm: werewolf.”
    Howling? Atticus had never felt the urge to howl.
    â€œThey can’t do tattoos, dickhead.” Animal snickered. “Their bodies reject the ink and heal over. They don’t fucking scar.”
    That’s true , Atticus thought.
    â€œThey could use silver ink.” Daggit