“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.”