CHAPTER 2

“Still giving orders at the factory, Mason,” Tom said.

The bearded man grumbled, “Fourth of July’s coming for a second time this year.”

Figuring she’d be better off sitting next to the rest- rooms to lessen the chance of creating fireworks, Lelandi grabbed her purse.

The door banged open again. The chatter died.

As soon as she saw him, she knew it was him—not only because silence instantly cloaked the room and every eye in the place watched Darien Silver’s reaction. His sable hair curled at the top edge of his collar. Brooding dark eyes, grim lips, features handsomely rugged, but definitely hard, defined him. Wearing a leather jacket, western shirt, jeans, and boots, everything was as black as his somber mood. He looked so much like Tom and

Jake, she figured they must be triplets, and he was the leader of the gray lupus garou in the area. Had to be, the way everyone watched him, waiting for the fireworks.

Something about him stirred her blood, something akin to recognition, yet she’d never seen him before in her life. It wasn’t his face, or clothes, or body that stimulated some deep memory—but the way he moved— commanding, powerful, with an effortless grace.

He glanced at the barkeep and gave a nod of greeting—sullen, silent, still in mourning for his mate? If he discovered why Lelandi was here, he’d be pissed. A shiver trickled down her spine. She released her purse and kept her seat, for the moment. Everyone was acting so oddly, she imagined that was the reason he quickly surveyed the current seating arrangement. When

His eyes lit on her, incredulity registered.

Crap! He recognized her; she just knew it. Didn’t matter that she had dyed her hair this horrible color that didn’t do anything for her fair skin, or that her eyes were now blue. Didn’t matter that the heavy padded leather jacket gave her broader shoulders and made her appear heavier, or that she wore her hair straight as blades of uncut grass, compliments of a hair straightening iron, when her sister’s and hers was naturally curly. She couldn’t hide the shape of her face or eyes or mouth. All of them mirrored her sister’s looks.

Then again, his look was puzzled. The hat and glasses appeared to confuse him. Maybe the fact that she wore the faux pierced earrings that looked like the real thing did too.

She was the first to break eye contact, her hands shaking and her skin perspiring. He was a bigger wolf than she was, by God.

Used to working with—taller and with broad shoulders. His guilty determination prevented him from averting his gaze from her or making a concession. It is understandable why Larissa was drawn to the attention-grabbing gray. Lelandi couldn’t help but ponder the experience of having a romp with a boisterous wolf like him. Yet, damned if it hadn’t resulted to Larissa’s death. Keep company with those of your own type, as her father would have advised. No humans; only the red type of lupus garou.

No one raised a cup to take a sip of their beverage, and not a single person moved. She fought the need to swallow and pushed herself to look at Darien to see what he was doing right then.

I’m still fixated on her. She desired to disappear into the ground like hot day mop water. She clinched her teeth, picked up her glass of water, and took another gulp, praying nerves wouldn’t cause her to unintentionally choke on the ice drink. But before leaving Silver Town, she had to get revenge on Larissa’s killer.

Sam gave a shoulder shrug and handed Darien an empty glass as he caught his attention. She had to be moved if Darien wanted her out of his chair.

Macho gang leaders had to assert their authority and ensure that no one, especially women, could overshadow them in their region. None were more well-known for it than Lupus Garous. Unless another lupus garou was successfully trying to take over the pack, no one ever challenged them and won.

She didn’t belong to his pack. She was a woman. She also wasn’t gray. Even worse, she reminded him of his deceased mate. On the other hand, he didn’t seem to be certain of what he was seeing.

Once more, she was the focus of frigid eyes that also showed sadness. He swung the glass off the table and strode over to where Jake and Tom were sitting. Darien was able to get a better view of her and the entryway when he persuaded Tom to relocate to the chair with his back to the door. If the pack leader was watching her, how could she observe the other members of the pack? She was certain he could still smell her terror at this moment. She reassured herself that she didn’t fear him, but any Lupus Garou worth his pelt would be cautious when approaching a pack leader.

She remained in her seat, frozen with indecision. Let him believe that she was too terrified to get up from her chair—or his chair, for that matter.

A woman wearing mid-thigh leather boots and short shorts with a turtleneck top entered the tavern for the first time this evening. Her sable hair was piled on top of her head in whirls of dark curls.

One of the four men seated at the bar whistled and shouted, “Hey, Silva.” Looks good.

She flashed him a dazzling red-lipped grin before casting a quick glance Lelandi’s way. Her expression revealed her amazement. Silva’s focus changed, and she noticed Darien close by. She said something to Sam while crouching down at the bar so the boys could see her ass better. He turned to face Lelandi. Yes, she was certain to come up in conversation this evening.

Sam gave a shrug. Silva, you’re drawing a sizable crowd tonight. Why not check to see if the boss needs another beer?

Tom raised the drained pitcher. Need to restock. It appears that the lady needs another drink.

Lelandi sunk into her seat, wishing she could be anywhere except under the spotlight.

Silva grinned sourly at her. “Oh, well, it appears that word has spread to many far locations. I imagine it won’t be long until the place is swarming with—

Sam pounded the counter with a pitcher of beer. Silva, look after the customers and be kind.

She gave him a smirk before grabbing the pitcher. That’s what you pay me for, sir, boss. She delivered the beer to Darien’s table with a swing of her hips before grinning broadly at him. “All right, boss. Whistle if you require more.

Without saying anything, Darien simply sat back in his chair and turned to face Lelandi.

Silva scowled and moved toward Lelandi’s desk. Need another bottle of water, please?

Drink time has come. Have some margaritas? Lelandi spoke quietly, but not quietly enough.

Tom swallowed his beer hard. A few of the patrons at the pub laughed. Sam grinned as he poured a man a drink of whisky.

I’m not sure, sugar. Silva then looked at Sam. Hey Sam, fancy cocktails for a visitor from out of town? How about a margarita? She uttered the phrase as if she were referring to a cute female name.

More giggles followed.

“I can make anything the little lady wants,” you say.

Little. She was well described by that. The size of a red lupus garou female at five four. Her seat was higher.

Is that what you want, Miss…? Silva drew it out and questioned, looking for a name.

Thank you. “Yeah.”

Goodness, dang it. In front of the grays, Lelandi wished to project a more intimidating appearance. What did she do after practicing endlessly? Acted like a damned squeaking mouse. As she was used to being with people of her own kind, she rarely felt intimidated. Double black belts in jujitsu and kung fu helped her feel more at ease with brutish people. Yet, these people were neither human nor of her own type, and if she gave them the chance, a pack of them could eat her alive.

Lelandi was once again certain that she was about to be exposed as the woman drew in closer. Silva inhaled, her brown eyes growing droopy. Lelandi hoped no one could smell that she was a lupus garou and not one of their own kind, despite the fact that she was wearing a ton of ostentatious human perfumes and, of course, the stench from the recent dye job—despite the fact that she had tried to mask that smell by washing her hair in strawberry shampoo. It appeared that it had failed.

Good, good, good. Silva shifted her weight forward. Sam, please make the lady a margarita.

Tom spoke out, “Put the first on my tab.” “I wouldn’t want the lady to think we’re just a bunch of grumpy old coots,” the man said.

Silva responded, “The second one is on me.”

As much of a beta wolf as he appeared to be, the miner Joe Kelly appeared sad that he hadn’t spoken out first, but he probably wouldn’t say anything to irritate Darien. The only exceptions would be Darien’s brothers, and Silva appeared to be free to act whenever she chose.

Darien remained silent. His simple gaze conveyed control; he was dangerous and unlikely to agitate others. More than any words, his actions—or lack thereof—spoke for themselves. The tavern would have been covered with blustered by Bruin.

In place of Darien. If she had stolen his seat, Bruin would have instantly called her out, humiliated her, and physically thrown her out of the establishment to show that he was the pack leader and that no one would defy him. But even a single glower from Darien represented a grave threat, and she would be well to pay attention to it.

Everyone was enthralled by the explanation for Silva’s interest in Lelandi. They must have assumed Silva knew something about her. Silva appeared delighted by the fact that Lelandi was a red lupus garou posing as a person. Lelandi at least thought the woman had discovered her.

Where are you staying, sweetheart? Silva’s tone was considerably more soothing, and the sweetness was artificial.

The unexpected frog in Lelandi’s throat was expelled. “On my way through.”

Silence. The woman’s eyes grew gloomy, and she sent a fleeting glance Darien’s way. He was staring at Lelandi with widening eyes. Shit. The way she spoke, the tone, something must have reminded her of Larissa this time.