Chapter 6

Amara stood, frozen behind the bar, as the man walked out. She hadn’t liked him from the moment he walked in, as handsome as he may be, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why. There was just something…skeevy about the man; maybe even something familiar. She shivered.

Nova bent down and picked up the stool. He cast her an apologetic glance. “Sorry about that,” he said quietly, his voice rough and thick. Whatever had just happened, it was clear he wasn’t quite through it yet.

She handed Nova a glass of water, satisfied when he took a large gulp. “I thought you might need to cool down, handsome. That looked like it got pretty heated.” Nova just nodded.

From across the room, Amara spotted her boss headed their way. He looked irate.

“What the hell was that, man?” Mitch exclaimed, storming over to Nova. Amara suppressed a groan. Mitch had a way of blowing everything out of proportion. Sure, the policy was no fighting in the bar, but it hadn’t really been much of a fight. More like Nova was putting the other guy in his place. “You can’t pick a fight like that in my bar!” Mitch’s face was red as an apple. He glared at Nova. “You need to leave.”

“Mitchell,” Amara protested, crossing her arms over her chest.

He just shook his head. “Now.”

Irritated, she rolled her eyes.

“That’s okay, Amara,” Nova said, completely calm. He set a handful of bills on the bar. Even with just a cursory glance, she could tell he had left her a substantial tip. Points for him.

Nova stuck out his hand to Mitch in apology. “Sorry, man. There’s bad blood between me and Kal, always has been. He just tends to get under my skin. But you’re right. I never should have let him get to me here. This is your bar. I meant no disrespect.”

Surprised, Mitch regarded him with caution before taking Nova’s hand. “Fine,” he said grudgingly. “I won’t ban you from the bar entirely. But for tonight…”

Nova held up his hands in surrender. Looked like he wasn’t even going to argue. “Understood.” He glanced at Amara. A slow, easy grin crept across his face. Almost like a cat that had just spotted its prey. His dark eyes flashed with amusement. “It was nice meeting you, Amara,” he said, and there was so much heat in his stare that she wasn’t surprised to feel herself blush. “It truly was the highlight of my night. I hope to see you again soon.”

She could feel Mitch’s pointed stare, she knew he was judging her, expecting her to shrug off Nova’s advances. She refused to look at her friend. She didn’t need his disapproval now. What did he know anyway? Instead, she busied her hands by grabbing a towel and wiping off glasses, grateful that the dishwasher had just finished so she would have something to do. The situation was getting more awkward by the second. Amara smiled at Nova, aware that Mitchell was seething. She would deal with him later. There was a good-looking man standing in front of her now. “You, too. You come back and see me now, handsome. Maybe I’ll even let you buy me another drink.” She winked at him.

Amara let Nova’s rich laughter wash over her as he made his way out the door. Switching to a wet rag, she began to wipe down the bar. Thank goodness it was almost closing. It had been a strange night, and she was exhausted.

“Seriously, Mara?” Mitch demanded, glaring at her. She hadn’t seen him that angry in quite a while. “That guy?”

“Why not that guy?” Zoe asked, sidling up alongside Mitch. She slid her hand up and down his arm, letting her fingers play over his skin. Amara suppress a shudder. Zoe wasn’t exactly the type of girl you encouraged your best friend to go out with. Not anymore. “He was hot. Besides, I don’t know what you’re worried about. Amara doesn’t have a chance in hell, anyway.” The smile Zoe gave her was cold and cruel. It was like she enjoyed being mean. Who knows? Maybe it made her feel better about herself.

Always the same with Zoe, Amara thought, grinding her teeth together. Even her good mood was beginning to sour. She comes in, gets drunk, and hits on whatever guy she has her sights on at the time. It had been that way since the attack, she recalled. Becca had devoted herself to her faith, and was probably the most well-adjusted of the three of them; which was ironic, since she’d been hurt the most. Amara had thrown herself into self-defense, refusing to ever be a victim again, but Zoe had thrown herself at men and alcohol. After a while, the two of them had grown apart. Amara still poured Zoe into bed when she’d had too much to drink, but they never mentioned it, and she did her best to keep it from getting the best of her.

Until now.

Looks like this week is Mitch, the poor bastard. She shows the entire town just how easy she is, how she has absolutely no self-respect, then plays it off as if I’m the one who’s undesirable? Ugh. I’ve had enough.

“You know, Mitchell, you’ve got a lot of nerve, lecturing me about my love interests—or even just the people I’m attracted to—while you have Zoe Hamilton hanging off your arm.” Grabbing her purse, Amara made her way out from behind the bar. “I mean, come on. I know you’re into recycling, but don’t you think this is rather much? There’s only so much use a girl can take before the wear and tear starts to show.” She knew she was being a bitch, but seeing Zoe with Mitch grated on her nerves too much for her to care.

“I’m done for the night, boss,” she told him, taking her coat from Sam. She thanked him with a light kiss on the cheek. “You two enjoy.” Amara bared her teeth at them in what passed for a smile before pushing through the door and out into the cold, leaving a flabbergasted Mitch and a furious Zoe in her wake.

Amara was fuming as she let the heavy door slam behind her. She leaned back against the cold stone wall of the building and closed her eyes. She needed to regain her bearings, and fast. It wasn’t like her to lose it the way she just did. That never happened. But there was something in the air tonight, something… off, that was setting her on edge. If only she knew what it was.

It was one thing for Zoe to attack her like that; it happened all the time. She was used to her frenemy’s barbed comments about her looks, her brains, or her chances with men. They hardly ever had any merit, but still, Zoe liked to spit them out, just to mess with her. Any other time, Amara would have let them roll right off her back, but tonight…she just couldn’t.

And what really pissed her off was that Mitchell hadn’t even stuck up for her. No, in fact, he had started the whole damn thing. So what if the new hot guy was flirting with her? She’d been plying him full of alcohol all night. He probably would have flirted with anyone if they’d smiled bright enough. And she’d only flirted back because it came with the job.

Well, maybe it had been because she wanted to, Amara admitted. A little bit. But so what? She could have a fun conversation with an attractive man, couldn’t she? Not that they’d talked about much. He really seemed to be more of the strong, silent type. But that wasn’t the point. She’d enjoyed talking to him. There was no law against it. It wasn’t like she was seeing anyone. She rarely even went out on a date. And Mitchell had never been upset about her having a love life before. Not that he had a right to judge.

Zoe Hamilton. The filthy hypocrite.

Movement caught Amara’s eye from the shadows. Her fingers itched for the knife strapped to her ankle. Before she could stop it, the wolf attack from ten years before flashed through her mind. Once again, Amara imagined herself flat on her back, sprawled out on the pavement, the russet-colored wolf tearing into her skin. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life.

Never again.

Leaning down, she slipped the knife from its sheath, loving the feel of the cool steel against her hand. She let the weight of the blade settle in, enjoying the way it felt both lethal and familiar. The way she held it spoke of a lot of years handling a knife. “Who’s there?” Amara called, her steady voice the only sound in the stillness of the night. No one answered, but she knew someone was there. She could feel it.

Seconds passed. When the silence continued, Amara shrugged, cursing herself under her breath for not bringing her car, and again for worrying about not bringing her car. As Becca would say, her paranoia was showing.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How many times was she going to let her fear get the best of her? Yes, her grandfather had been right; there were, in fact, wolves in Strathford, and they were definitely not friendly. Well, not all of them, she conceded, thinking about the black and silver one that followed her around like a shadow. Most of them, however, were vicious. But did that mean she had to stay indoors after the sun went down like her mother? Was she supposed to be forced to spend her nights within the confines of her own home, unable to enjoy her life just because some wolf out there might take it?

She didn’t think so.

Glancing over her shoulder, Amara scanned the darkness again, searching for any sign of movement, but there was no one there. Still, she found herself gripping the knife tighter as she picked up the pace. Only two more blocks to go.