Bracken blinked. “He likes her well enough, I guess.”
“He’s not bothered by her?”
“No. Why?”
“My wolf backs away from her.”
“Seriously?” Bracken blinked. “That’s weird. Nothing about her raises my hackles, and she doesn’t rub my wolf’s fur the wrong way either. Then again, your wolf has always acted strange when a female shows an interest in you.”
That was true. Zander’s wolf might be attracted to a female, might like her scent or her confidence or any number of her qualities, but he never wanted her. In fact, he often became irritated by female attention, especially if it was sexual. There were very few females whose company he tolerated—thankfully, those included the females of his pack.
If Zander didn’t know any better, he’d think the wolf had mommy issues or something. Still, one thing his wolf had never done was back away from a female. He’d growled. Snarled. Brooded. Turned his back on them. Hell, he’d even clawed at Zander if they annoyed him enough. But act wary and cautious? Never had he done that.
“Yeah, but she didn’t show an interest in me.” She’d acted cordial and professional. “I don’t know what to make of it. My wolf’s always been a fearless fucker. Nothing has ever thrown or shaken him. She unnerves him, and I’m not used to him being disturbed by anything.”
Bracken chewed on that for a moment. “Is he fighting you on being around her?”
“No. That’s the point. He’s not engaging. He literally just backs away.”
“That is odd. I wouldn’t worry on it, Z. You have enough to think about, like the reading of the will tomorrow . . . and just how hard we’ll have to work not to kick the living shit out of Rory.” He shoved the last of his muffin into his mouth. “Let’s go for a run. Your wolf might feel better afterward.”
Zander was counting on it.
CHAPTER THREE
Later that day, acting on Yvonne’s recommendation, Zander and Bracken headed to Half ’n’ Half for dinner—a place owned by Yvonne’s future son-in-law. The moment he strolled inside, Zander understood the name. The dimly lit place was half bar, half pool hall. Unlike the last pool hall he’d been to, it wasn’t dingy or fogged by cigarette smoke. There was a slight smell of tobacco, but it was drowned out by the scents of beer, leather, oiled wood, and food grilling.
Rows of pool tables lined the left side of the wide space, where there were also plenty of stools and small round tables. On the right side was a long bar, a wall-mounted TV, cushioned booths, and wooden tables. Sports paraphernalia and framed photos lined the wood-paneled walls of the entire space.
The place was fairly crowded, but not enough for Zander to feel smothered. Most patrons were either sitting at tables watching the game airing on the TV or gathered around the pool tables.
There was a lot of cursing and trash talk, but it was all banter. Among the sounds of balls colliding and tumbling into pockets were the bleeping of the gaming machines, the sizzling of cooked food, and the music coming from the jukebox.
“Damn, I’m starving.” Bracken patted Zander’s arm with the back of his hand. “Hey, look, there’s Gwen.”
Zander tracked his gaze, not sure why a weird sort of anticipation began to slowly spread through him like warm syrup. His vision was blocked by a group of guys, but he could see her head, see her smiling that distant but courteous smile as she carefully took plates from the tray she was holding. Well, it would seem she worked for her brother-in-law as well as her mother. Or adopted mother. He knew from the females’ scents that they weren’t biologically related.
Spotting an empty booth nearby, Zander headed straight for it and slid onto the cushioned bench.
Bracken sat opposite him. “I can’t help but notice that you found us a table in the area Gwen seems to be working.”
Well, it would give Zander the opportunity to watch her, to see how she interacted with people, to work out what the hell was unsettling his wolf. The run hadn’t helped ease the beast’s tension at all.
Dressed in a lemon T-shirt and cutoff shorts, she weaved her way through the group, heading toward the door that he suspected led to the kitchen. Jesus, she had shapely, tanned legs that looked as smooth as butter. His cock twitched. He’d always been a sucker for legs. He could see himself hooking Gwen’s over his shoulders as he—
Spotting him and Bracken, she blinked and then held up one finger. She went into the kitchen only to reappear moments later. “Hey,” she greeted them with a smile, stopping at their table.
His wolf immediately withdrew. There was no submission or fear in the act, just a sort of primal wariness.
“Hey,” said Bracken. “You do manly foods, right?”
Her mouth quirked. “Manly foods?”
“Red meat. Chili. Chicken wings. Stuff like that.”
“Ah, yes, we do manly foods.” She pulled a pen and pad out of her pocket. “Most go for the steak, fries, onion rings, and beer combo.”
Bracken’s smile widened. “That should hit the spot.”
She raised a brow at Zander. “What about you?”
“The same,” he said.
“And bring some nachos too,” Bracken added.
“You got it.” She scribbled down their order on a notepad.
“Yvonne said this place belongs to your sister’s fiancé,” Zander told her.
“That’s right.” Gwen turned to gesture at Chase . . . and saw that he was waving her over. She turned back to the wolves. “I’ll send over another waitress with your beers and have her place your order so you’re not waiting long.”
As she walked away, Zander couldn’t help but take another long look at those legs. Eyes seemed to follow them wherever she went, and he didn’t think she even noticed.
He watched as she handed their order to another waitress and then crossed to a tall, well-built male in the corner. They stood close, not hesitating to enter each other’s personal space. There was nothing sexual about it, but he found that he didn’t like it.
Shamelessly, Zander used his shifter-enhanced hearing to listen to their conversation. It was pretty much impossible to catch more than a few words here and there, but what he did hear sure did send his curiosity spiking.
Gwen sighed at Chase. He stood there, a Marlboro cigarette balanced in his mouth, giving her his trademark glare that made most people—male and female—avert their eyes and back down. Given that Julie was nervous around guys, Gwen still had to marvel that the burly, tattooed male had somehow managed to earn her trust, let alone get her to accept his proposal.
Gwen liked that Julie had someone so tough. Her sister, delicate in many ways, needed that buffer from life. But Gwen didn’t, and Chase saw no need to acknowledge that. He shoved his nose into her business far too often and expected her to effectively report to him. As such, he was pissed that she hadn’t immediately called him when Brandt paid her a visit.
“I should have heard it from you, Gwen, not through the fucking rumor mill.”
“Give me a break, Chase. It only happened last night. I haven’t even told Yvonne about it yet.” A fan of sleeping pills, Yvonne had slept right through it. “Besides, I just gave you the full story—you can stop whining.”
He took a pull of his cigarette and then tilted his head slightly when he exhaled so that the smoke didn’t blow in her face. “Donnie should have shot the little bastard in the fucking head.”
“He’s not worth the jail time.”
“No, he’s not.” Leaning back, he tapped his cigarette, sending fine gray ashes tumbling to the glass ashtray resting on the high-top table. “Maybe I should pay the Moores a visit.”
“Don’t. You’d be wasting your time. Right now, I’m the only thing that Brandt’s concerned about. If you went there, he’d only twist the whole thing, and then Colt would arrest you—and he’d do it gladly, considering how much he seems to hate you.” But then, Colt hated most people.
“I don’t give a fuck about Colt,” said Chase, his t
one dismissive.
“Well, I give a fuck that he might arrest you, so please—for Julie—stay out of it.”
He sighed. “Did you call Julie?”
She narrowed her eyes at how evasively he dodged her request. “Yes. I told her that I was fine, and I was being careful.”
“So, basically, you lied. She’s worried sick about you. She wants to see you, but I told her not to go to the B&B. If she was there when Brandt came, she’d have been terrified.”
Yes, she would have been. Julie got thrown back to her childhood every time she heard a guy raise his voice. But . . . “She’s stronger than you think, Chase. Still, I don’t want her there either. Look, I know this situation is fucked up, but let it play out. Let Brandt dig his own grave; he’s doing me a favor.”
“Doing you a favor? Gwen, if he goes back to the B&B to confront you again, there’s a good chance he’ll take more of his friends with him.”
“If that happens, I’ll pull out the shotgun, the rifle, my hunting knife, and go get myself some human-skin rugs. I’ll take Donnie. We’ll make a night of it.”
Taking yet another pull on his cigarette, Chase took a step forward and pinned her gaze with his. “No, you call me. Not after he’s gone. You call me the second you see him. He’s young, stupid, and arrogant . . . but he’s also dangerous. You’ve seen for yourself what he’s capable of; you saw what he did to that girl. I don’t want that to be you.”
No, neither did she. “If I see him, I’ll call you,” she promised . . . though she was crossing her fingers behind her back.
“Make sure you do.” He stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray and left it there. “Now get back to work. At least when you’re here, I can be sure you’re all right.”
She gave him a weak smile and patted his arm. “You’re a big softie beneath that tough shell. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Your street cred’s safe.”
“Whatever,” he grumbled, cheeks flushing slightly. “I’m holding you to the promise that you’ll call me, Gwen.”
Well, that was a shame, but it was unlikely that she’d keep it.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Watching Gwen disappear into the kitchen, Zander said, “No. I was busy listening to Gwen’s conversation with her sister’s fiancé.” He hadn’t been able to hear much, thanks to the shouting coming from the sports fanatics. “Seems like she witnessed some kind of crime, and someone’s trying to bully her into not testifying against them.”
“Really?” Bracken leaned back. “Shit.”
Zander shifted in his seat, trying to relieve the discomfort caused by his half-hard cock pressing against his fly. It had begun rising to attention at the sight of her legs and was showing no sign of easing. Maybe if her voice wasn’t like a fucking stroke to his senses, it would.
“Any idea what she witnessed?”
Zander shook his head. “I couldn’t make out much of what was said.”
A skimpy redhead appeared at their table, smiling widely. She slapped down two coasters and then set the beer bottles on top of them. “Anything else I can get you?” she asked, her smile suggestive.
Picking up his beer, Zander took a long swig, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat, hoping the shock of the cold would make his dick settle down.
“We’re good,” Bracken told the waitress. Once she was gone, he eyed Zander curiously. “It’s not like you to turn away from a redhead.”
“You say it like I’m a slut.”
“No, that’s Marcus—or it was, before he mated Roni. But you didn’t even give the redhead an appreciative glance. I’m just saying, that’s not like you.”
“Is there a point to this conversation?”
“No.”
“Then let’s just end it.” Zander put down his beer. He wasn’t the only one to groan as the jukebox replayed the last song for the sixth time.
“Who keeps choosing that damn song?” one guy complained, holding a cue tight, as if imagining whacking the culprit over the head. That might have been why no one owned up to it.
The place was getting more and more crowded, but Zander’s wolf seemed more curious about the people and his surroundings than bothered by how packed it was.
A door creaked open, and then Gwen was striding out of the kitchen with a tray of steaming food. And, yeah, Zander’s eyes dropped to those legs that shouldn’t be legal.
Moving straight to their table, she set down their plates and a platter of nachos with dips. “Here you go.”
Just like that, his wolf mysteriously backed away again. Zander barely resisted the urge to grind his teeth. “Everything all right?”
She blinked. “Yeah, of course.”
“Looked like you were having an argument with your sister’s fiancé.”
“Gwen, I got a challenge for you here!” someone called out.
Zander turned to see a guy in the pool-hall section standing near a high-topped table where glasses and bottles rested, gesturing for Gwen to come over.
Mouth curving, Gwen rolled her eyes. “Enjoy your meal.” At that, she walked to the guy. A quiet fell over the pool hall, and people gathered to watch whatever was about to happen next.
“You got a challenge for me, Harry?”
“I don’t care how good you are. There’s no way you’ll pot that.” Harry pointed at the black ball on the pool table. “I’ve looked at it from every possible angle. It can’t be done.”
Gwen smiled. “It can always be done, Harry.”
He put a wad of bills on the side of the pool table. “You pot that black, it’s yours.”
She shook her head sadly. “Why do you want to give your money away?”
Harry just grinned. “I’m telling you, this will break your perfect record.”
Money changed hands, and Zander watched as Gwen circled the pool table like a predator, utterly focused on the two remaining balls on the table. Finally, she stopped and held out her hand. Harry passed her his cue, and she scraped the tip with a cube of blue chalk.
She stretched across the table and lined up the cue stick to the white ball. Damn if she didn’t look good bent over like that. Zander wasn’t the only one to take a moment to admire her ass.
Everyone seemed to hold their collective breath as, eyes narrowing, she aimed and took her shot. The white ball crashed into the side of the table, bounced over to the other side, hit the bottom of the table at a diagonal angle . . . and clipped the edge of the black ball, which then slowly rolled into a pocket.
Cheers went up and people clapped.
She grabbed the wad of bills and turned to Harry. “It almost feels like stealing.”
With an affectionate smile, Harry waved a hand. “One day there’ll be a shot you can’t make.”
“Sure, sure,” she said, stuffing the bills in her back pocket.
“A master at pool, huh?” said Bracken. “My kind of girl. What are you glaring at me for? Just because your wolf doesn’t like her doesn’t mean that I can’t.”
Zander took another drink of his beer. “He doesn’t dislike her; he’s just wary of her.”
“Isn’t that pretty much the same thing?”
“No.” He thumped his bottle down on the table. “Now let’s fucking eat.” He turned his attention to his meal, but he kept an eye on Gwen: observing her, studying her, assessing her . . . and, yeah, ogling her legs. His wolf watched her just as carefully, still cautious, and—for the life of him—Zander couldn’t work out why.
“Zander.”
He snapped awake at the whisper in his ear. There was no one there. Well, of course there was no one there. Blinking, he picked up his phone and swiped his thumb across the screen to check the time. Seven thirty in the morning. He’d always been an early riser, so his body’s clock had obviously woken him. Obviously. It happened often and—
The balcony door was open.
Suddenly alert, he slowly slid out of bed. There was no one in the room—he’d smell them if there were. Yet, he d
idn’t feel alone. And he knew for sure that he’d locked the damn balcony door.
He silently padded onto the balcony, stepping into the humid air. There was no one.
Hearing muttering, he looked down to see an Aston Martin parked outside. Nice car. But something about the guy who was standing beside it, talking on his cell phone, raised Zander’s hackles. Or maybe it was the draft that came from behind him and brushed over his nape. He already knew before he glanced over his shoulder that no one would be there.
He scrubbed a hand down his face, refusing to acknowledge any of the weird shit going on. His focus was on the shady-looking guy outside. A guy who was now walking toward the house, a determined expression on his face. He was probably a new guest arriving, but said guest was setting off Zander’s inner alarms. Maybe he should go down there and find out why.
CHAPTER FOUR
Having finished their pancakes, Gwen and Marlon cleaned up their mess so they could prepare breakfast for the guests. The kitchen was pretty spacious, with oak cabinets, a large pantry, stainless-steel appliances, and the wooden island in the center.
As she swept the crumbs from the counter into her hand, careful not to drop any on the tiled floor, Yvonne walked in.
“Morning, darlings.” Yvonne beamed. “Where’s Donnie?”
“He came by a half hour ago,” said Marlon. “I offered him breakfast, but he said he was still stuffed from the squirrel he snacked on last night. He went to his cabin.”
“Well, of course he ate a squirrel as a late-night snack,” said Yvonne drily. “Who doesn’t?” She sighed. “I need to speak with him. I shouldn’t be long.”
“We’ll be fine here,” Gwen assured her.
Casting them a sunny smile, Yvonne disappeared out the back door.
Marlon shook his head. “Like we don’t know when she’s fake-smiling. She always gets like this around Asshole’s birthday. I don’t know why, because, as the nickname suggests, he’s an Asshole.”
“Yeah, but they were together for two years, and she’s not good at being on her own. She goes to Donnie because she knows he’ll verbally shred Asshole’s character until she feels we’re all better off without him—which we are.”