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.”
“Why doesn’t she like talking badly of him in front of us? She knows we despise him. It’s not like she’d be poisoning our minds against him. He did that all on his own.”
“I think she doesn’t want us to see how much he hurt her; she doesn’t want that to hurt us and—” Gwen cut herself off at the chime of the doorbell. “I’ll get it.” Hoping it wasn’t Colt with more complaints from the Moores, she strode into the hall. But as she opened the door, it wasn’t to find Colt on her doorstep. No, it was worse.
Gwen gripped the edge of the door, mouth tightening. It was hard not to snarl at the balding, impeccably neat male. His smile was wide and friendly, but it had a shady edge to it—the kind you saw on a slimy door-to-door salesman. At least Brandt didn’t hide that he was a bastard. His father, however, lavished everyone with a false charm that grated on her nerves.
She noticed his chauffeur, Thad, leaning against the car, staring right at her. From what she could tell, the guy was also Ezra’s right-hand man.
“Good morning,” Ezra said brightly.
She arched a brow. “Is it?”
His smile faltered slightly. “Miss Miller, I’ve come in peace, I assure you.”
“And yet, I’m not feeling assured, Mr. Moore.”
“Please call me Ezra.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
“I was hoping that you and I could talk.”
“Is that not what we’re doing?”
“In private, I mean.” He glanced over her shoulder, hinting to come inside.
“This is private enough.”
His eyes hardened a little. “Very well.” Clearing his throat, he offered her a contrite smile. “I wanted to apologize for my son’s behavior the other night. He confessed that the bat is his and that his injuries weren’t caused by you—that you simply took the bat from him before he could smash the window of your truck. The incident shamed all three young men, and I know their families feel just as disappointed with their sons as I do with mine.”
What a crock of shit. “While I appreciate your taking the time to come here, I don’t want an apology. I want assurances that your son will stay away from me—that is all.”
He gave a respectful nod. “Understandable.” He slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a check. “Allow me to offer this as compensation.”
She blinked. “Compensation?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
“You’re offering me ten grand . . . because your son acted like a dick?”
He seemed about to jump to Brandt’s defense, but then his face molded into a remorseful expression that didn’t reach his eyes. “Brandt is . . . troubled. I will admit that. But he would never raise his fist to a woman, let alone drug and beat one with a pole. He insists that you misread the situation you stumbled across, that he merely came upon the female shifter after she’d already been beaten by someone else.”
Anger surged through Gwen. She somehow managed to bite back a curse. “You don’t believe that. You want to believe it. But you don’t. Look, I get that he’s your son, and you don’t want to see him punished by the shifter council, but you can’t seriously think he doesn’t deserve a punishment for what he did.”
“He says he’s innocent—”
“I know what I saw, I know what I heard, and I know it was him. I could hear him beating her—hear that pole hitting bone before I even laid eyes on them. You’re insulting both my intelligence and your own by trying to insinuate differently.”
“The shifter altered her statement.”
“Because she’s scared out of her mind.”
“What do you care?” His upper lip curled. “She’s a shifter. A lone shifter, which makes it worse.”
“She didn’t deserve what happened to her, and Brandt doesn’t deserve to go unpunished for it.”
“So high and mighty, aren’t you?” he sneered. “Yet, you had no problem trying to shoot him, did you? Just like you had no problem hitting him with a bat or using a stun gun on him. He came home with a jaw so swollen he could barely talk.”
“But he went home conscious. If he comes at me again, I can’t guarantee he’ll go home at all—not while Donnie’s feeling trigger-happy. You understand that, don’t you, Mr. Moore? You understand that if you want your son safe, you need to get him under control?”
“I came here in peace,” he said once again.
“You came here to buy me off. It’s not the first time you’ve waved money at people to solve Brandt’s problems. If you weren’t a father who’s so quick to get out his checkbook to buy his son’s way out of trouble, you might have a better shot of keeping him in line. He’s used to Daddy saving his ass, so he doesn’t see the need to behave himself. It wouldn’t surprise me if he likes making you dance around and jump through hoops to get him out of trouble.”
Cheeks reddening, he insisted, “Brandt didn’t beat that shifter. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to keep that check and change your statement like a good little girl. Then, when you go before the council, you’ll tell them you can’t be sure who attacked her. If you don’t, you’ll find that the problems you’ve had so far were nothing.”
She leaned forward. “Bring it.”
“You need to step away from her,” rumbled a voice from behind her, loaded with menace. “And you need to do it now.”
Shit. Gwen flicked Zander a strained smile over her shoulder. “Mr. Devlin, I’ll be with you shortly.”
But Zander’s eyes were on Moore, and they were cold as ice. “You’re still standing too close to her. I don’t know why.”
Moore lifted his chin. “Who the hell are you?”
“That’s not important.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“I don’t care. Gwen doesn’t want you here, so leave.”
Moore turned back to Gwen, mouth set into a flat line. “Make the right choice, Miss Miller.”
“I already did. And I won’t be changing it.”
He gave a curt nod. “So be it.” Then he was gone.
Only once he’d driven away did Gwen shut the door. Turning, she found that her brother and Bracken had joined Zander. “Marlon, could you help Mr. Devlin with whatever he needs—I’ll be right back.” Because she needed some fucking air.
As she made a beeline for the kitchen, she could hear Marlon trying to dissuade the shifters from following her. Shoving open the back door, she stepped out onto the deck and inhaled deeply. The cool air filled her lungs, soothing her.
Sitting on the deck, she let her head drop forward. She was just so fucking tired of all this shit. Not that she intended to back down. Hell, no. She just didn’t want to be vilified for doing the right thing.
Hearing the door creak open, she glanced over her shoulder to see Zander staring right at her, hundreds of questions in his eyes. Just fucking great.
Zander hadn’t heard all of Gwen’s conversation with the human who’d just left, but he’d heard enough to grasp the gist of the situation. And he was fucking pissed. A female shifter had been assaulted, and neither the culprit nor his family gave a rat’s ass. In their eyes, the victim was inferior to them and deserved no justice simply because she was a shifter. In addition, Gwen was the only person who was prepared to stand up for that shifter, even though it meant going against her own kind—people who were clearly harassing her.
His sister’s face flashed in his mind. Shelby had been thirteen when she was hit by stray bullets in a drive-by shooting. Several humans witnessed the incident and had identified the human shooter, but by the time the trial came around, all of them had “forgotten” relevant details. Why? Because running up to the trial, the bastard had pretended to be the victim, insisted that shifters were simply out to get humans. He’d riled up other anti-shifter humans, and they’d all focused their hate on Shelby, who’d suddenly become the guilty party. The witnesses had also been slated, and they’d eventually folded under the pressure.
Shelby’s testimony hadn’t been enough, and the shooter had walked free. He’d later shot someone else, this time at point-blank range. The situation wasn’t the same as Gwen’s, but it was similar enough to bring back all the rage and contempt Zander had felt for the shooter and his prejudiced supporters.
Nowadays, many anti-shifter humans grouped together. The extremists were violent, radical, and seemed to know no boundaries. They were known to use car bombs, grenades, and other explosives to attack shifters, their territories, and even their businesses—uncaring that there could be human casualties. They’d gotten so bad that even other humans were turning against them. Risking their wrath wasn’t advisable. Yet, Gwen was prepared to speak up for this female shifter who wouldn’t even speak up for herself. He admired that. Respected it. Appreciated it.
“What was all that about?” Zander asked her.
“Sorry if your sleep was disturbed by the visitor,” she said in that coolly polite and formal tone that, for some reason, offended him. “Marlon will prepare whatever you want for breakfast.” She faced forward once again as Marlon listed various options.
Unwilling to be dismissed, Zander stepped off the deck and moved to block her view. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Gwen swallowed a tired sigh. “If you’re worried that you might get caught up in what’s happening, we’ll certainly understand that and give you a refund.” Personally, she thought that was a pretty reasonable offer, but he didn’t appear to like it.
“Tell me what’s happening.”
Gwen frowned. He really thought she’d share her personal business with him? Surely he’d heard enough to understand that this was a private and very serious matter, one she wasn’t about to share with a complete stranger just to satisfy his curiosity. “You’re a guest here.”
Not seeing what that had to do with anything, Zander pushed, “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Look, Mr. Devlin—”
“Zander. My name is Zander. Use it,” he clipped. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him that she didn’t, but he wasn’t sure of a lot of things when it came to Gwen Miller. His wolf had again backed away from her, and the situation was getting old, fast.
“You’re a guest here.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that. Not sure why you think it’s relevant.”
“This doesn’t involve you. Like I said, we can sort you out with a refund—”
“I don’t want a refund.” He squatted in front of her. “I want to know if I heard correctly, and you witnessed a shifter being physically assaulted.”
She inhaled sharply. “Good hearing.”
“You’re being pressured to change your statement?”
Marlon sat beside her. “Pressured is an understatement. They’ve tried pretty much everything to make her do what they want.”
Zander wondered just what “pretty much everything” entailed. “But you won’t give in?”
She blinked. “Why would I?”
“Some humans would prefer not to go against people like the asshole who was just here, especially when they’re being targeted this way.”
Bracken leaned against the porch rail. “How long is it before the matter goes before the shifter council?”
“A month,” said Marlon.
“Where’s the girl?” asked Bracken.
Gwen’s eyes snapped to his. “Why?”
“We can offer her protection.”
She tilted her head. “Why would you do that? From what I’ve heard, lone shifters aren’t exactly liked or trusted.”
“Our pack is closely allied with another, and one of the members helps run a shelter for lone shifters,” Bracken explained. “She’d be safe there.”
“She’s already safe.”
“You’re hiding her,” Zander guessed.
“Even though they bullied her into altering her statement, they kept terrorizing her; she needed somewhere to go.”
Rising, Zander glanced around. “She’s living on your land in her animal form, isn’t she?”
“Not sure why you’d think that.” With a sigh, Gwen stood. “Well, it’s been great talking to you, but I have work to do.”
And he and Bracken had somewhere they needed to be, thought Zander, but he was reluctant to leave her. As he watched her walk away, he didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone who looked so lonely. There was an odd twinge in his chest.
“She’ll be okay,” said Marlon. “She’s a lot tougher than she looks. Now, what can I make you guys for breakfast?” He again reeled off the menu. After Zander and Bracken placed their orders, Marlon retreated inside.
Still leaning against the rail, Bracken said, “Not many humans would do what she’s doing for a shifter—hell, not many humans would do it for another human while being intimidated like that.” There was a great deal of respect in his voice. “Listen, I know you don’t like getting involved in other people’s shit. I’m not a big fan of it either. But . . .”
“You want to stick around in case she needs help,” Zander sensed.
Bracken pushed away from the rail. “I feel like we owe her. She’s not doing this for us—I know that. But what was done to the female shifter was a serious crime. And by standing up for one of our kind, Gwen’s placing herself in danger. We’d be bastards to just ignore that. I can’t. It’s not how I’m wired.”
Zander scraped his hand over his jaw. “All this shit makes me think of what happened to Shelby.”
“Me too. That bastard who shot her walked off into the sunset, free as a bird. Maybe we can make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to the little fucker that Gwen’s dealing with. I heard the way that human was talking to her just now. He’s not going to let this go. He’ll keep up the pressure. Gwen seems strong, but everyone has their limit. We could help, and I think we should.”
“And you’re bored,” Zander pushed.
“And I’m bored,” Bracken admitted. “But it’s more than that. Like I said, I feel like we owe her. Shelby’s like a sister to me. I hate what happened to her. If we walk away from Gwen and the shifter while they need help, we’re no better than the people who let Shelby down.”
Zander sighed, turning his gaze to the view of the marsh. “You’re right.” The “but” was clear in his tone.
“Why are you so reluctant to stay? Look, I’m not expecting you to sympathize with these females. I know empathy isn’t really your thing. But I also know that you’re a person who’s rarely daunted by anything. So, what’s holding you back? Is your wolf making it hard for you to be around Gwen?”
“No, he’s not giving me a hard time. But I don’t know if he’d help me protect her. It’s possible that he’d even object to it. What use am I if, when she’s in danger, he pulls back so hard that I’m distracted?”
Bracken frowned thoughtfully. “How did he react when you stepped in to warn away Moore just now?”
“He didn’t react. Just stayed back. It’s almost like he’s hiding from her. What does that even mean?”
Bracken’s mouth twitched. “It’s driving you insane that you can’t solve the mystery.”
Damn right it was. “I don’t like puzzles.”
“In my opinion, the only way you’ll figure it out is if you stick around awhile. But I’m not going to pressure you into staying. If you feel you need to go, go—I won’t judge you for that.”
Zander snorted derisively. “Like I’d leave you on your own.” He, Bracken, and Jesse were like brothers; they’d stick together through anything. He sighed. “I’ll stay. It’s what Shelby would want me to do. And you’re right. Walking away would make us like those people who let her down.”
“And you want to solve the mystery of your wolf’s reaction to Gwen. So do I. It’s kind of interesting.”
“Glad someone’s enjoying the puzzle.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not.” Zander tipped his chin toward the door. “Let’s get breakfast. Then we can go hear Dale’s will.”
Zander flicked a look at the wall clock. Rory was late. Of course he was late. Everything had to revolve around him, so he was purposely making them wait for him. The bastard better fucking hurry, because the heavy scent of new paint was driving his senses crazy. Not even the strong smell of his coffee helped.
Bracken didn’t seem bothered. He was busy watching the news on the wall-mounted TV. Although the volume was low, his shifter-enhanced hearing allowed Bracken to hear it perfectly, despite the continual ringing of the receptionist’s phone and the noises coming from the children in the toy corner.
Zander had received a text message from Shelby informing him that she wouldn’t be coming. He wasn’t particularly surprised. He was also glad, because it meant she wouldn’t have to deal with Rory.
With an inward sigh, Zander threw the newspaper he’d skimmed through back onto the coffee table. The young receptionist tried to catch his eye, but he didn’t play the game. His mind was on other things. Like the reading of the will. Like how likely it was that Rory would be an ass. And like the question of whether Nick would sanction Zander’s and Bracken’s requests to stay in Oregon for a while.
He didn’t doubt that his Alpha would sympathize with Gwen and the female shifter’s situation, but Nick’s priority was the pack’s safety—especially since that pack included his mate and daughter. Also, Nick didn’t like outsiders; he wouldn’t put one before the needs of his pack, no matter the seriousness of the situation.
The front door swung open, and in walked a male with the same face that Zander saw every day in the mirror. Rory looked smart and immaculately neat with his slicked hair, black suit, shiny shoes, and briefcase. He also looked amused as his gaze found Zander, like Rory knew something that he didn’t.
Rory introduced himself to the receptionist, who blushed as she assured him that she’d alert the attorney of his arrival. He then strode over to Zander, halting in front of him. “Hello, brother.” It was a taunt, not a greeting.
Zander’s wolf lunged for him, upper lip curled back. He’d happily rip the male to pieces and not give a shit about it. Zander held him back and didn’t rise to Rory’s taunt. Instead, he spoke in a toneless voice that gave Rory no emotion to work with or exploit. “Rory.”
He cocked his head. “How’re things?”
“Good.”
Rory’s eyes cut to Bracken, who was pointedly ignoring him—something he’d been doing since they were kids. Rory’s mouth tightened at the clear dismissal, but he slid his gaze back to Zander and said, “I’m glad to hear it. Things are good on my end too. Work is good, life is good. I actually have plans to expand my business.” He talked about his job, boasted of his new contracts, spoke of his “newest piece of fluff”—his words.
He was so caught up in chatting about himself that he didn’t notice the bored look Bracken exchanged with Zander, despite the enforcer not being the least bit subtle about it.
The opening of a door was soon followed by footsteps shuffling down the hallway. Finally, a suited middle-aged male appeared. “Zander and Rory Devlin?”
“That’s us,” Rory confirmed with a smile as they walked toward him.
Zander took in the male’s scent. Fox shifter. His wolf growled; he wasn’t a fan of foxes.
“I’m Edward Simpson, your uncle’s attorney.” He shook each of their hands, his expression sympathetic. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Rory swallowed hard. “Thank you. We’ll miss him.”
Bracken snickered only loud enough to reach shifter ears, and Rory’s face hardened as he tossed the enforcer a dark look that was completely ignored.
Rory turned to Zander. “I’m surprised Jesse’s not here to console you too.”
Zander didn’t rise to the snarky remark, which only pissed the prick off.
Edward cleared his throat. “Please come with me.” He led them down a hallway and into an office. With its white walls and gray carpet, the room was sterile. It was also obsessively tidy. Each item of stationery seemed to have its own place on the desk. The stacks of papers were perfectly aligned beneath the dolphin paperweight. The files and binders on the shelves were in alphabetical order.
There didn’t appear to be even a speck of dust, and Zander got the feeling that the attorney would have an aneurysm if he found one. Maybe that was why the guy had a stress ball next to his coffee mug and why the astringent scent of hand sanitizer was so strong—fairly drowning out the other smells of paper, ink, and coffee.
Edward gestured at the padded plastic chairs opposite his desk. “Please sit.” He then moved to the file cabinet, on which a framed photo of a woman and two children rested. Pulling out a slim folder, he closed the drawer.
Tension stretched the air taut; Zander and Rory remained so still that only the whirring of the fan and the shuffling of papers could be heard.
Sitting, Edward rolled his wheeled office chair closer to the desk and opened the folder. “I realize that reading the will aloud in an attorney’s office isn’t how things are usually done anymore. But your uncle was adamant that he wanted things handled this way. He attached a letter to his last will and testament, and he asked that I read it aloud first.”
Rory leaned forward, but Zander didn’t move.
“To my niece and nephews,” began Edward, “you may be wondering why you’re now sitting in my attorney’s office. Well, it is as simple as this—I knew that someone would be unhappy with the content of the will and most likely claim that the copy they received in the post was a fake. This way, you will all know that you each received the same copy.”
Rory tensed, smart enough to sense that was a jab at him.
“I have many regrets,” Edward went on. “Mainly that I sat around, waiting for my true mate to stumble into my path. It was a stupid move, considering shifters don’t always recognize their mate at first glance, but I was so sure that I would know instantly. Maybe she did cross my path, maybe she didn’t. In any case, I have spent my life relatively alone, and now I have died alone.
“I encourage you all not to wait around as I did. Find your own path to happiness, and walk down that path whether it leads to your true mate or not. Love and best wishes, Dale.” Edward lowered the letter to the desk.
“Touching,” Rory bit out.
“Yes,” Edward agreed. “Your uncle didn’t own any physical properties, but he received the same payment upon his death that all in his pack receive so that they may leave some for their families. Dale split it as follows . . .”
As the attorney read out the will, Zander briefly closed his eyes. He should have seen it coming.
“A dollar,” said Rory, voice strangely calm. “He left me a dollar.”
The attorney licked his lips. “Yes.”
Rory jumped to his feet, hands curled. “Is this a fucking joke?”
Edward shifted in his seat. “He felt that you wouldn’t need money, since you were your parents’ sole heir.”
“So, he did this to piss me off. He divided everything between Zander and Shelby to piss me off.” Rory whirled on Zander. “Are you responsible for this? Did you convince him to change his will before he died?”
Utterly calm, Zander said, “You’re judging me by your standards, Rory.”
Expression sour, Rory pointed at himself. “I have every right to a portion of that money. I earned it.”
Something about the way he said it made Zander realize . . . “You spent time with Dale near the end, didn’t you? Helped him out? Did him favors?” Rory was manipulative and smooth, but Dale was far from dumb; he’d obviously known what Rory was doing.
“Oh, I helped him. Even wiped the old bastard’s ass at one point. He owed me. You owe me. You’d probably be either dead or on dialysis if I hadn’t given you that kidney.”
With a bored sigh, Zander stood up. “Are we really back to that again?” Even his wolf was bored of that.
“Just give me half of what he left you. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“You really need it that badly?”
“I told you, I want to expand the business.”
“So, it has nothing to do with your gambling debts? Not that paying them off will really help you. You’ll just put yourself in more debt.” Zander knew that Rory was a compulsive gambler with a bottomless greed that couldn’t be satiated.
Rory’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You owe me.”
“Nobody owes you anything, Rory. But that’s your problem—it’s always been your problem: you think the world and everybody in it owes you. Fucking grow up.”
A cunning glint entered Rory’s gaze. “Maybe Shelby will go into business with me.” It was a veiled threat—if Zander didn’t yield, he’d turn his attention to Shelby.
“You’d have a hard time getting to her. She’s part of a different pack now, and it just so happens that her Alpha hates you. He won’t let you near her, and you know she doesn’t leave her territory.”
Face flushed, Rory stepped toward him. “If you won’t give me what’s mine, I’ll take from you what’s yours.”
That was supposed to scare him? Zander inwardly snorted. “Don’t be a prick all your life, Rory.” With that, he strode out of the office and into the reception area. He almost felt bad leaving Edward alone with Rory, who was now shouting his intention to contest the will.
Bracken rose to his feet, brow cocked in question.
“I’ll tell you in the SUV.” Once inside, Zander switched on the engine and, as they drove back to the B&B, explained what had happened.
“A dollar?” Bracken echoed, amused. “Somehow, that’s more insulting than leaving him nothing.”
“I’ll have to tell Shelby what happened and warn her that Rory might try to contact her.”
“What do you think he was talking about when he said he’ll take from you what’s yours?”
“Don’t know.” But since Zander didn’t own anything that particularly meant anything to him, he wasn’t concerned about the threat. “It was probably just Rory chatting shit—he’s been doing that since he learned to talk.”
“Good point.”
Later, when they were back on the balcony of his room at the B&B, once again surrounded by the sounds and smells of the marsh, Zander called Nick and put him on speakerphone so that Bracken could be part of the conversation.
As Zander told the Alpha how Dale had divided the money, Bracken shook his head in amusement—still tickled by the matter.
“How did Rory take it?” There was a smile in Nick’s voice.
“Not well,” said Zander. “Expect some trouble. Tell the others to look out for him—he could turn up at the club or the motel and act like an asshole. He won’t do anything major like attack anyone, but he will fuck with you if he can.”
“All right, we’ll be on the lookout for him. What time will you be back tomorrow?”
Zander exchanged a look with Bracken before speaking. “There’s a situation here at the B&B.”
“What kind of situation?” asked Nick.
Zander explained, and the Alpha swore viciously. “Gwen looks worn out by it all,” Zander added. “But she’s still not folding.”
“We plan on offering to stay and give her protection,” announced Bracken.
There was a long pause before Nick spoke. “I don’t like it, Bracken. We’ve had peace for months now. I don’t want us to lose that.”
“The pack as a whole won’t be affected,” said Zander. “We’re not proposing taking her to our territory. We’re talking about extending our stay at the B&B. If something happens while we’re here, we can intervene.”
“She doesn’t need protection from shifters; she’s up against her own kind, not ours,” Nick pointed out.
“Yeah, and she’s up against her own kind because she’s helping one of ours,” said Bracken. “It would be all kinds of wrong to walk away from that when our very presence could make them hesitate to harm her. If we went home and then later found out something had happened to her, I’d feel like a complete bastard.”
Nick sighed. “They might not have any intention of harming her. They may just stick with trying to scare her.”
“You’re right,” allowed Bracken. “If they don’t try to harm her, great—it means we weren’t needed. We’d just like to be here in case we are.”
“Is there something else going on that I don’t know about? You seem pretty insistent on helping her.”
“Neither of us are involved with her, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s not my or Zander’s type. She has gorgeous eyes, though. I’m not really a guy who looks at eyes, but they’re a seriously striking blue—if you saw them, you’d know what I mean. Great legs too.”
Clenching his jaw because, yeah, he didn’t like hearing Bracken talk about Gwen’s eyes or legs, Zander said, “Gwen’s situation is bad. The humans trying to intimidate her are rich and have the kind of social power that allow them to go unpunished by the local police and judge, so they’re not likely to help her if these bastards step up their game. She needs protection. Maybe if she has it, the victim will feel safe enough to come forward again.”
“I don’t like to bring up bad memories, Nick,” began Bracken, tone sensitive, “but think about what happened to Roni.” Nick’s sister had almost been gang-raped by humans long ago. One of the bastards had recorded the foiled attack, and that footage was later featured on a fucked-up website where prejudiced humans uploaded videos of crimes against shifters and actually rated them. “It’s not the same as what’s happening here, I know that. You saved Roni; you had evidence to prove their guilt. But let’s say that Roni hadn’t had any help that day; let’s say that there was a witness who was being harassed into backing off. Wouldn’t you like to think that someone would have stuck up for her?”
“Gwen’s not your sister,” the Alpha rightly pointed out.
Zander balled his hand up into a fist. “But my sister was shot, and you know how that turned out.”
“So, in a sense, this is about Shelby.” After a long moment of silence, Nick exhaled heavily. “I’ll allow it, providing you agree to keep me updated.”
“That we can do,” said Bracken.
“For the record, I still don’t like this. Nonetheless, I’ll back you on it. But only to a point. If things get too bad up there, you both need to come home. That’s not a negotiation.”
Bracken nodded. “Agreed.”
“Good. Remember to keep me updated.” The line went dead.
Leaning back in his chair, Zander tapped his fingers on the table. “I thought he’d put up more of a fight.”
Bracken pulled out his own phone. “Nick’s a good guy. He’s also practical enough to know that Shaya would guilt-trip him into letting us stay if he didn’t consent.”
Watching Bracken’s thumbs flying over the screen of his cell, Zander said, “You’re texting Shiloh again, aren’t you?” The female margay shifter was Harley’s cousin.
Without looking up or stopping texting, he said, “Presumably, you’ve noticed she spends most of her time on her phone.” He lifted his shoulders. “How else am I going to seduce her? Technology is my way in.”
“Why would you put so much effort into seducing someone who doesn’t like you? It’s not even personal—she doesn’t like anyone.”
Bracken’s mouth quirked. “She’s warming up to me, I can tell.”
“How can you tell?”
“The majority of her responses are threats and offensive comments.”
“And you find this positive?”
“You’ve met Shiloh. She takes aloof to a whole new level. Instead of ignoring me, she insults and threatens me—she’s trying to push me away. I’m telling you, she’s warming up to me.”
“Whatever. I need to call Shelby.” Zander dialed her number, but he didn’t put the call on speakerphone this time.
“Hey,” she answered softly.
“Hey. Thought you might want to know what went down at the attorney’s office. It turns out that Rory was helping Dale, spending time with him, trying to win his favor. Apparently, Dale didn’t deem that help as worth anything more than a dollar.”
“Oh, God,” Shelby muttered, amused.
“The rest will be split between you and me.”
“I’m guessing Rory lost his mind.”
“You guessed right, so it’s probably good that you weren’t here.”
She took what sounded like a cleansing breath. “Enough about that. Tell me what’s been going on in your life.”
They talked for a while. He didn’t mention the Gwen situation, knowing Shelby would likely see how it paralleled her own—he didn’t want to drag up old memories for her. Once Zander had ended the call, Bracken spoke.
“Well, I guess we should go find Gwen and offer our protection. You know, I can’t help wondering . . .”
“What?” prodded Zander.
“I know what drives us to want to help her with this complex situation. But what drives her to want to help the shifter? Because considering the pressure she’s under and how unsafe she must feel, there has to be something big driving her.”
He’s probably right, Zander thought. And now he himself was wondering the same thing.