“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 tone 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.