CHAPTER FIVE
When the doorbell chimed, Gwen’s stomach rolled. And she hated that. She shouldn’t be anxious in her own home. She shouldn’t react so strongly to the simple matter of someone being at the freaking door.
Although she very much doubted it was Brandt, since he surely wasn’t stupid enough to announce his presence, she nonetheless slipped her hand into her pocket and fished out her knuckle stun gun before opening the front door. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw a familiar female who was biting her lip.
Stepping inside, Julie wrapped her arms around Gwen. “I know you didn’t want me coming here in case I got caught in any cross fire, but I had to see you. Chase won’t like it, but you’re my sister.” She glanced around, almost as if she expected him to jump out any second. She didn’t fear Chase, but she disliked disappointing him.
“Let me just shut the door.” Gwen closed it, tucked her stun gun in the pocket of her jeans, and then led her sister into the spacious living room. “You didn’t need to come here. I’m okay, Jules.”
“Of course you are,” she said with a smile as they both sat on the sofa. “I’ve never known you to be anything else.” She lowered her voice as she added, “I’m ashamed to say that, in your position, I probably would have backed down and changed my statement.”
“You’re not weak, Jules.” Fragile in some ways and a little dependent, but not weak.
Julie shook her head. “Well, I’m not strong. Not like you. We had similar childhoods, but you let it make you stronger.”
Gwen’s gut burned at just the mere mention of her childhood. Flashes of memory flickered through her mind, despite fighting them. Her stepfather beating her mother, Hanna, with the satellite dish. Her mother cowering in the corner as he whacked her over the head with their anemic Christmas tree. Her stepfather shoving her out of the trailer so hard that Gwen banged her head on the cement block, just so he could “nail” her mom in peace. Bleeding, head throbbing, Gwen had sat outside among the broken bikes, empty cans, wrecked furniture, old tires, and foul-smelling trash . . . and it hadn’t even occurred to her to ask for help, because no one would have given it.
Gwen pushed the memories away. “We both left our personal hellholes long ago. None of it matters now.”
“It’ll always matter,” she said softly. “That kind of thing stays with you. Our moms were abused, but we were victims in our own way. How many times did you clean your mom up? How many times did you pick up glass and food from the floor because your stepfather had thrown stuff around? How many times did you help your mother dress because she could barely move she was in so much pain? She wouldn’t even let you get her help. I was too scared and embarrassed to share my family secret.”
It hadn’t been embarrassment that kept Gwen quiet. Her mother had firmly stated that she’d lie and cover for the bastard if Gwen told her teachers. The main reason Gwen had kept her mouth shut was that she’d known her stepfather would take it out on her mother. She’d kept quiet to protect Hanna, but it hadn’t felt like she was protecting her. It had felt like she was ignoring Hanna’s pain and need for help . . . just like the neighbors who never called the police, no matter how loud the yelling or screaming got. Not that Hanna was entirely innocent. No, she was just as volatile and mercurial as the bastard, but she never raised a hand to anyone.
“Like I said, none of it matters now.”
“Of course it does,” Julie insisted. “Witnessing domestic violence is a type of abuse all on its own. Watching our moms be hurt and terrorized was something that hurt and terrorized us. It’s a frightening and distressing experience, and it impacts every part of a person’s—”
“That’s your therapist talking.”
Julie clasped her hand. “Speaking of Aidan, he wants to see you. He wants to help you through this. It’s going to be a trying time for you. A little support, a friendly ear, would be good for you.”
Gwen gritted her teeth. “I don’t want or need anything from him.”
She’d attended therapy years ago after Julie stated that she wouldn’t go unless Gwen did. Gwen had never liked it or the therapist. Never liked his probing gaze or his insistence that she “needed” his help to heal. It had creeped her out, but not nearly as much as when he admitted that he’d “developed feelings” for her. He’d seemed completely shocked that she didn’t feel the same way, and he hadn’t been at all happy that she told him to stay away from her.
Gwen had never told Julie because Aidan seemed to be truly helping her, and God knew that Julie needed that. “I’m glad you feel he helps you. Therapy is a good thing, I know that. But it’s not for everyone.”
Julie held up her hands. “Okay. I’m just the messenger.”
“Yeah, I know. You sounded exactly like him.” It almost made her shudder.
“He was very specific about what he wanted me to say.”
“Who?” asked Marlon as he entered the room.
“Aidan,” replied Julie.
Marlon’s mouth flattened. “Is that so?”
Julie tilted her head. “Why don’t you like him?”
Marlon sank onto the sofa opposite them. “I have my reasons.” One of which was that Gwen had told him about Aidan’s creepy and wildly unprofessional declaration of love. Her foster brother was the only person who knew.
Shrugging the matter off, Julie turned to Gwen. “Anyway, I came here because . . . It should be easy to do the right thing, but we all know it doesn’t always work that way, and I wanted you to know that I’m behind you on this.”
Gwen patted her hand. “Thanks, Jules.”
Julie went to speak, but then two large figures entered the room, their footsteps eerily silent. Julie tensed under Zander and Bracken’s scrutiny—she wasn’t comfortable around men, particularly ones so powerfully built.
Placing a reassuring hand on Julie’s arm, Gwen spoke, “Mr. Devlin—”
“Zander,” he reminded her, his gaze intense as it fixed on Gwen.
“Right. Zander. Do you need something?”
“Yeah.” But he didn’t elaborate.
“Can it wait? I’m sort of busy right now.” And Gwen would rather not talk to him if he would insist on revisiting their earlier topic of conversation.
Julie leaned into Gwen and asked quietly, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” Gwen assured her. “Julie, this is Zander and Bracken. They’re guests here. Zander, Bracken, this is my big sister, Julie.”
Julie forced a shaky smile. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Likewise,” said Bracken.
Zander just nodded before sliding his gaze back to Gwen, and that puzzled her. Julie was exceptionally beautiful, and guys ogled her all the time. Bracken’s eyes held a flicker of appreciation, but Zander didn’t seem at all affected. Maybe he was gay. Yep, that must be it. Ah, how disappointing for females everywhere.
Julie stood and straightened her sweater. “I should be going.”
Gwen grabbed her hand. “You can’t leave without seeing Yvonne.”
“She’s cleaning the rooms on the third floor,” said Marlon, rising. “I’ll come up with you.”
As her foster siblings headed up the stairs, Gwen arched a brow at Zander. “What can I help you with?”
His head tilted. “Actually, this conversation is more about how we can help you.”
She blinked, confused.
Bracken stuffed his hands in his pockets. “What breed of shifter is Andie?”
“She’s a cougar.”
“But not part of a pride?” asked Bracken.
“She was raised by humans. I don’t know how that came about, didn’t ask. I figured it was her business. People didn’t realize she was a shifter until she was a teenager. She was always quiet and kept to herself.” Maybe because she’d known she was different and thought people wouldn’t accept her once they found out, thought Gwen.
Zander moved closer. “When did she change her story?”
“About a week ago. She wants me to do the same thing, or to at least lie to the council.”
Zander’s eyes studied her face, as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve. “But you’re going to tell the truth. Why?”
Gwen gave a nonchalant shrug. “Sometimes people need others to speak up for them.” She knew that better than most.
“We want to help,” said Bracken.
Recalling their mention of a shelter, she puffed out a breath. “I guess Andie might go with you. I’d have to ask.”
Bracken shook his head. “No, we want to help you. We’re also prepared to place her somewhere safe until this is over. She’ll be welcome to remain at the shelter indefinitely, if that’s what she wants.”
Gwen looked from one male to the other. “I don’t see how you can help me.” Or why they would, for that matter. “I’m not fighting shifters.”
“No,” said Zander, “you’re up against people who are anti-shifter. That’s bad. These people aren’t rational when it comes to us, and they often think they’re a law unto themselves. You might be human, but you’ve allied with a shifter in this matter—to those people you’re dealing with, you’re now just as bad as us.”
“I know that, but I also know that it’s not your problem. There’s no reason for you to make it yours. And, as I said, I don’t see how you could help me.”
“It’s unlikely that they’ll try to physically harm you if me and Bracken are here. They hate our kind, sure, but they also fear us. Typically, fear is at the root of their hatred.”
Gwen pursed her lips. “So . . . when you say you want to help me, you just mean you’ll stick around in the hope that your presence here will be a deterrence?”
“No,” began Bracken, “we mean that if anyone turns up here to give you shit, we’ll take care of it.”
Suspicious by nature, she searched for what their angle might be here, but she came up with nothing. “Why would you do that?”
“The same reason you’re helping Andie,” said Zander. “It’s the right thing to do.”
Yeah? She wasn’t convinced. Plenty of people had known that saving her mother from her stepfather would be the right thing to do, but they still hadn’t done it. She’d learned that people preferred to look the other way. Shifters weren’t the exception.
“Here’s what I know about shifters,” she said. “You’re exclusive. Private. Insular. You avoid getting involved in other people’s business—even if those people are fellow shifters. Am I wrong?”
A muscle in Zander’s cheek ticked. “No.”
“Yet, you’re offering to help me when it could switch their attention onto you and, by extension, your pack. You’re offering to help a lone shifter even though she has no connection whatsoever to you. Nothing about this situation would benefit you or your pack in any way or make it worth any trouble that it could cause you. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why you’d care to involve yourselves.”
“Like I said, it’s the right thing to do.”
She narrowed her eyes at the note of offense in Zander’s tone . . . like she should feel guilty for believing he was anything less than honorable. “Don’t think I’m buying that open, harmless, easygoing act. You’re good at it, I’ll give you that, but I know a merciless predator when I see one. Merciless predators don’t help people for nothing, especially when they’re suspicious of them—and you are suspicious of me for some reason, I can sense it.” She tilted her head. “But then, you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who trusts anyone.”
More than a little discomforted—yet also begrudgingly impressed—by that very accurate assessment, Zander said, “You don’t strike me as the trusting type either.”
“I’m not. Right now, my gut’s telling me that you’re not being totally honest with me.”
Sensing that only the truth would gain him her cooperation, Zander said, “We know someone who’s been through a similar experience. The culprit got away with it. If someone had stood up for them the way you’re standing up for Andie, the end result might have been very different.”
For a long moment, Gwen said nothing. She wondered if he partially blamed himself for his friend not getting justice. If so, there was no self-recrimination in his tone. “The hearing doesn’t take place for another month. That’s four weeks.”
“I know how long a month is,” said Zander drily.
“Then you know it’s a lot of time to stay away from your pack. Surely you don’t want to spend all that time here.”
“It’s been a long time since we had a vacation,” said Bracken.
Sighing, she flicked back her bangs. “I’d need to speak to my family about your offer. I won’t make the decision for them.”
“Then talk to them.” Zander stepped aside as she walked out of the room, toward the stairs. “Gwen?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, brow raised in question.
“Don’t let your suspicious nature make you reject help. With the way things are, like it or not, you’re going to need it.”
Once she’d disappeared up the stairs, Bracken said, “She’s more perceptive than I gave her credit for.”
Zander nodded. She’d seen right through his act, but she hadn’t called him on it until now. He’d underestimated her. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“It surprised me that she didn’t jump at the chance of having our protection,” said Bracken. “Kind of makes me wonder if she was let down by another person who should have protected her. She relies on herself.”
“It’s possible.” More likely probable, really. Zander sank onto the sofa, on the exact spot where Gwen had been sitting. She called Julie her sister, but his nose told him they weren’t blood relatives. Also, Marlon wasn’t biologically related to either of the females or Yvonne. That meant these people were either Gwen’s foster family or adopted family. “We might as well wait here. Something tells me that Yvonne will be down here soon enough.”
It was a good twenty minutes before Yvonne finally entered the room, alone. She looked from Zander to Bracken as she spoke. “My Gwen says you’re offering to stay and help with the Brandt situation.” And she sounded no more trusting than Gwen had. “Why?”
“What kind of people would we be if we didn’t offer to help?” asked Bracken.
“Normal,” said Yvonne.
“We don’t know Andie,” began Bracken, “but she’s one of us—a shifter. She needs help, and the only person doing anything about that is Gwen. Your daughter could end up being the target of extremists, and believe me when I say they are not people whose attention you want.”
Yvonne rubbed her arm. “We’ve seen the things they’re capable of on CNN. I don’t understand that type of prejudice and brutality. As Gwen says, it’s all senseless. You think the Moores would contact the extremists and tell them what she’s doing so they’ll come after her?”
“Honestly, I doubt it,” replied Bracken. “Even other anti-shifter humans avoid the extremists now—they’re out of control. Plus, wherever the extremists are, The Movement soon follows.” The Movement was a group of shifters that had formed to retaliate against the extremists. “No one wants to be stuck in the middle of their ongoing battle. Still, it’s smart to envision the worst-case scenario so that you can be prepared for it.”
“What is it you want from her in exchange for your help?”
“Her cooperation would be good.” Bracken’s mouth curved. “She fought us on accepting our help.”
“My Gwen doesn’t trust easy. And she likes to take care of herself. She’s well liked around here by most people, so it’s rare that anyone bothers her. Especially since she has a paranoid eccentric for an uncle. But the Moores don’t care, and I doubt they’ll care if she has the protection of two shifters—they regard your species as inferior.”
“Yeah, we got that.”
“My concern is that your presence here could rile the Moores enough to make this worse for her. Brandt won’t back down; he’s scared of going before the shifter council. If your support does aggravate the situation, are you going to then disappear and leave her to bear the weight? Or will you stick by her until the end? Because if you can’t stick by her, you should stay out of the matter.”
She’s right, thought Zander. “We’ll be here for as long as the situation requires us to be.” And he meant it. Lack of empathy or not, he found himself wanting to help Gwen.
Leery of staying, his wolf released a low, disgruntled rumble—a tame response from his usually bold wolf who had no compunction about clawing the fuck out of Zander if he wasn’t getting his own way.
Yvonne gave them a slow nod of respect. “Then we’re in your debt.”
Leaning against the doorjamb, Zander watched as Gwen cleaned the newly vacated room. It wasn’t as spacious as his room, but it was just as warm and restful. He’d offered to help, but she’d politely declined his offer—and damn if that stiff politeness didn’t still grate on him.
Once Yvonne had agreed to let him and Bracken stay, Zander had tracked down Gwen to ask her some questions while Bracken took a shower. Unfortunately, Gwen wasn’t being very forthcoming. He got the sense that it was instinctual for her to keep her business private, and she was finding it difficult to push past that. He also got the sense that she liked keeping people at a distance.
“We can’t help if we don’t have the full picture, Gwen. Marlon said that the Moores have tried pretty much everything to make you back down. What exactly did he mean by that?”
Finishing stripping the linen from the duvet, she balled it up and dumped it in a basket. “At first, it was just dumb pranks. Egging my truck, toilet-papering the yard, and calling the house—sometimes no one would speak, other times a voice would threaten me to keep my mouth shut if I wanted an easy life. Once, he even snatched the clean laundry that was drying on the line and dumped it in the marsh. Another time, he left a dead skunk on the hood of my truck. He and his friends were watching from the other side of the lot, laughing. It was all juvenile shit.” Tugging off a pillowcase, she added, “But then, it got worse.”
“Worse how?”
She threw the pillowcase in the basket. “Someone emptied my bank account, canceled my cell phone contract, maxed out my credit cards—shit like that.” Gwen thought it was lucky she hadn’t kept much of her savings in the bank. Donnie taught them to hide their money, not to trust banks. If she hadn’t followed his paranoid advice, she’d have lost it all. “Of course, I can’t prove that the Moores had anything to do with it, but I know by the call I got from Brandt, passing on his sympathies to my situation, that his family was behind it.”
Bastards. “He ever assault you?”
The dark note in Zander’s tone made her look at him. “He came close to hitting me with a bat a few days ago when I stopped him from vandalizing my truck. Donnie scared him off.”
Zander bit back a growl. Even his wolf didn’t like that she’d almost been assaulted. “What did the Moores do to terrorize Andie?”
“Way worse stuff than they did to me. They threw bricks through her windows, spray-painted her house, slashed her tires, tried breaking into her home. Brandt and his friends always had alibis, but I doubt Colt would have acted even if they hadn’t claimed to have them.”
Zander watched her apply the fresh bed linen. She had very elegant hands. Pretty and smooth. Hands that would look so fucking good wrapped around his cock. Shoving that image out of his head, he asked, “I don’t foresee the Moores backing down at any point. You?”
“No, they won’t back down.” And neither would Gwen. “I had a thought earlier. I was wondering if . . .”
“If?” he prompted.
Gwen shook her head, deciding it wasn’t important. “Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
“No, really, forget it.”
Zander walked toward her. “Tell me.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
But it did, because one thing that made Zander crazy was people not finishing their sentences. “What were you going to say?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she repeated.
“Will you just fucking tell me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.
“Not if you’re going to fucking swear at me. A woman is entitled to her own private thoughts, you know. If you really want to stick your nose in something, grab a book.” Done with the bedding, she lifted the basket of dirty linen. “I need to take this downstairs and then get to Half ’n’ Half. My shift starts soon.”
Zander rolled back his shoulders, shaking off his irritation. “Bracken and I will accompany you. We’ll eat and play pool while we wait.”
“None of the Moores will go there. Not only because Chase would throw them out, but because they wouldn’t want to be seen in a place so common.”
“They’re getting desperate. Desperate people do stupid things.”
Like turning up at my house drunk with a bat and cans of spray paint, she thought. “All right. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes. Be ready.”
Ten minutes later, Zander stood near the front door with Bracken and Marlon as Gwen came jogging down the stairs. His cock instantly hardened at the sight of her smooth, bare legs. He gave her a severe frown, blocking her path to the door. “You need to put on some jeans.” He didn’t care how it sounded, didn’t care that it would hint at just how attracted he was to her.
Her brows lifted. “Sorry?”
“You need to cover up those legs.”
Gwen blinked, unsure if she should be offended or not. “Why, what’s wrong with them?”
Forcing his jaw to unclench, Zander said, “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how much people stare at them.”
Actually, she didn’t recall people paying much attention to them. “They’re just legs.”
Marlon chuckled. “They’re lethal. I’ve seen people bump into shit because they’re so busy looking at your legs.”
She shook her head. “Whatever.”
Zander stepped into her personal space. “Let me ask you a question: Are your tips better when you wear shorts like those?” Her expression answered that question for him, and he watched realization dawn on her face, quickly followed by disbelief. “Cover them up.”
Gwen looked at him, lost. “Why?”
“We just established why,” he clipped. “People stare at your legs. I don’t want them staring at your legs.”
“Because . . . ?”
“I just don’t.”
Given that he was gay, Gwen had no idea what his issue could possibly be. “You’re being weird. I don’t have time for weird.” With that, she brushed past him and strode out of the house, shouting a farewell to Marlon.
Bracken beat her to the car, an amused grin on his face, and opened the rear door for her. Then he hopped into the passenger side just as Zander slid into the driver’s seat. They rode in silence . . . until Bracken starting chuckling. Zander shot him a dark look, but the other wolf just kept on laughing to himself.
“I’m not finding anything fucking amusing,” Zander growled, but Bracken just laughed harder.
Soon enough, they arrived at Half ’n’ Half. As they exited the SUV, Gwen noticed Brandt standing on the other side of the parking lot with his friends. He glared right at her, but that glare morphed into a confused frown as he looked at Zander and Bracken.
“That Brandt?” Zander asked.
“Yep,” she replied. “Don’t approach him. Even if you handed his ass to him, he’d be smug because he’d managed to cause a scene outside my place of work.”
It went against Zander’s nature not to act, but he knew that if he didn’t respect her wishes, she’d insist that he not come with her in the future. He wanted her to trust him. So he contented himself with doing as his wolf had done—he merely tossed a snarl at the human.
Inside Half ’n’ Half, Zander claimed the same booth as last time. After taking their orders, Gwen disappeared. Wearing a knowing smirk, Bracken made a show of ogling her as she walked away, which nearly got Zander’s fist planted in his face.
“On the one hand, Z, I’m glad she didn’t listen to you and cover up. On the other hand, a part of me doesn’t like that every guy here will be imagining having those legs wrapped around his waist while he—”
“Don’t,” Zander bit out. He really didn’t want to hit his friend.
“I should have seen this coming. Physically, she’s not your type. But she has the other qualities you go for. She’s smart. Confident. Capable. Stubborn enough to deal with you and your bullshit.” Putting down his beer, Bracken sobered. “On a serious note, don’t act on whatever you’re feeling. She’s got a shitload of stuff going on right now. I don’t think she’s got time for someone who is awful at being part of a couple even when the relationship isn’t serious.
“Don’t get me wrong, Z, there’s nothing I’d like more than for you to let someone in your life. You’ve been on your own too long, and you’re getting too used to it—and yeah, your wolf’s partially to blame for that. But this would be a really bad time to do anything about it.”
Honest with himself about his limitations, Zander could admit that he’d never been good at relationships. It wasn’t just because his wolf fought him so hard. The simple truth was that he’d never found relationships fulfilling. Probably because he typically didn’t connect with people.
“So, we’re agreed that you’ll just content yourself with staring at her legs?”
Zander sighed. “Are we really having this conversation?”
“It would seem so.”
“Well, it’s ending. Now.”
“Fine.” Bracken took another swig of his beer and stood. “I’ll be five minutes. I need to—”
“I really don’t want to know what you’ll be doing in the restroom, Brack.” Ignoring his pack mate’s chuckle, Zander chugged down more of his own beer. That was when he scented Gwen approaching, and his wolf retreated again.
Gwen set two plates of food on the table. “Here. Enjoy.” She was about to walk away, but then a large hand rested on her leg. She froze, watching as Zander used his thumb to scoop a little red sauce from her thigh. She had no idea why the movement seemed almost . . . sensual.
“You had something on your leg,” he told her. “Of course, if you’d been wearing jeans . . .”
“Are we still on that?” she snapped, impatient.
“Yeah, we are.”
Gwen stifled a smile at his hard tone. “Hmm. I see.”
“See what?”
“You’re one of those people.”
“What people?”
“You can’t let it go when you don’t get your own way. You can’t just chuck shit in the ‘Fuck It’ bucket and get on with your day.”
His mouth curved, and he shrugged one shoulder. “I like to get my own way.”
Well, Gwen could see that. She could also see that although he sat alone, he didn’t look alone. Maybe because he dominated his space so completely. He appeared at ease with his own company, not lost or lonely the way many pack animals did. “I realize that shifters are tactile, but could you move your hand?”
“You don’t need to be so uneasy. I won’t bite. Yet.”
“Whatever,” she scoffed, going for aloof. He slowly removed his hand and then licked the sauce from his thumb, holding her eyes the entire time. She swallowed hard. “Enjoy your meal.”
“I will.” Zander’s eyes followed her as she walked away, only shifting from her when Bracken returned and blocked his view.
Immediately, Bracken dug into his food. “Damn, this is good. I wish we could take the chef home.”
The door swung open, and in walked a male who, going by his uniform, was the sheriff—the same male who’d been standing on Gwen’s porch when he and Bracken first arrived at the B&B.
Zander noted that none of the patrons greeted the sheriff warmly. They either gave him a simple nod or avoided his gaze. Most of them sneered at his back. It seemed that the guy wasn’t well respected at all. Maybe if he wasn’t looking down his nose at everyone, it would be different.
Zander tensed when the sheriff made a beeline for Gwen. Spotting him, she simply greeted, “Sheriff.” There wasn’t an ounce of respect in the title, which was probably why the human narrowed his eyes.
“I heard two strangers are hanging around you.” The sheriff adjusted his gun belt. “Yvonne said they’re wolf shifters. They’re staying at the B&B for a while, and they’ve offered to help with the Brandt situation.” Suspicion laced every word.
Zander suspected that Brandt had contacted the sheriff, which led him to then call Yvonne. She’d probably told the sheriff they were shifters in the hope that it would scare him and the Moores.
Gwen nodded. “Yep.”
“What do they want in return? No shifter does something for nothing.”
That was true for the most part, thought Zander.
“They never asked for anything,” said Gwen. “Some people actually help those who are being wrongly persecuted. A novel thing for you, Colt, I’m sure.”
A muscle in Colt’s cheek ticked. “Are you paying them?”
“Mostly with sex,” she said, deadpan. “Turns out shifters are fond of threesomes.”
The sheriff’s lips thinned. “Don’t be crude, Gwen. Why would they help you?”
“Ask them. They’re over there.” She gestured at their booth.
“Sheriff’s on his way over,” Zander said only loud enough for Bracken to hear.
“Yeah, I heard him and Gwen talking.” Bracken’s response wasn’t surprising. No matter how absorbed he was by something, the enforcer wolf was always aware of his surroundings.
The sheriff arrived at their booth, planting his feet. “I’m the sheriff here.” Like that was some sort of achievement. The noise level of the entire place lowered as people subtly tried to eavesdrop.
Zander’s wolf took an instant dislike to him and stalked forward, teeth bared.
With a fry, Bracken gestured at himself. “I’m Bracken. This is Zander.”
The sheriff’s mouth twisted. “Where are you from?”
“California,” Bracken replied.
“I see. What pack?”
“The Mercury Pack.”
The human adjusted his hat. “So, you’ll be staying until the Brandt situation is resolved.”
“That’s right.”
“Sadly for you, I don’t approve of that.” His eyes narrowed as they danced from Bracken to Zander. “Not because you’re shifters, but because this situation is already heated—I want things to calm down, not worsen. Shifters aren’t known to be diplomatic. You’ll just aggravate the entire situation.”
Zander leaned back in the booth. “Sadly for you, your disapproval means nothing to us.”
“Not a thing,” confirmed Bracken.
The sheriff’s eyes tightened. “It should, considering what position I hold in this town. I could have you thrown out.”
“You could try,” said Zander. “It won’t work out well for you.”
Bracken’s mouth curled. “I’m kind of hoping he does try, Z. My wolf’s itching for some action. We should probably cut this guy some slack though, right? I mean, he must be under a lot of pressure right now. He has those Moore people bugging him to side with them.”
“Yeah, Brack, you’re right. If he had even a little of Gwen’s strength, he might just be able to pull his head out of his ass and stand up to the pricks.” Zander tilted his head, staring at the sheriff. “I guess you’re one of those ‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em’ guys, right?”
His face flushed. Eyes hard, he cast them each a menacing glare. “I want you both out of my town by tomorrow morning.”
“And I want you to keep the Moores away from Gwen.” Zander shrugged. “We don’t always get what we want, do we? There’s no sense in pushing this. We don’t answer to your laws. That shiny badge means nothing to me.”
For a long, tense moment, the human just glared at them, face like a thunderstorm. Then he crossed to the door and wrenched it open, yanking out his cell phone as he did so. Zander noticed that many of the patrons smirked, happy to see their sheriff’s butt shot down.
“He’s no doubt calling the Moores,” said Bracken.
Gwen’s scent slid over Zander moments before she appeared—and, predictably, Zander’s wolf annoyingly retreated again. Sighing, she scratched her nape. “That was pretty much how I expected things to go.”
“He’s not going to make us leave,” Zander told her, but she didn’t look convinced. As she moved to leave, he grabbed her hand. “Hey, we’re not going anywhere.”
“Good,” she said, but she still didn’t seem entirely certain of that.