CHAPTER 3

While Sam whipped up Lelandi’s margarita, there was quiet talk at the table across from Darien’s and among the grays at the bar, but no one said a word at Darien’s table.

The situation repeated again until the establishment was busy and rowdy. More customers entered the pub, all hoping to welcome their leader. However, when they saw a dead ringer for his slain mate sitting at his normal table, they turned to see Darien. Yet, nobody ventured to eat at her table. God is good. She couldn’t hear the gist of the more crucial conversations because they were held low, but she only needed to hear the beginning.

Identify the words being spoken. The clone of a dead sister appears at the grays’ hangout to exact retribution. Everyone of them would be trembling in their boots. Right.

Lelandi finished her margarita and immediately felt the need to go the restroom. The atmosphere had become extremely warm, so she shed her jacket. Huge error. The moment they realized how small she was, the room fell silent once more.

Lelandi was expecting another bottle of water, but Silva rushed over with another margarita for her.

This time the woman actually said, “On me, honey.” Even in her four-inch heels, she was short for a gray woman, standing at almost five feet ten.

“Thanks.” The woman’s expression sank when Lelandi stood up, perhaps believing that she was being snubbed for the drink and that Lelandi intended to depart. I need to use the girls’ bathroom. “Oh.” Silva’s lips raised just a little. “That way back,” She made a hand motion.

“Thanks.” When everyone started acting so curious about her, Lelandi had never given any thought to how it might feel to go through the tavern to the women’s restroom. She walked to the bathroom with her chin cocked up, shoulders straight back, and body ten degrees hotter than usual.

Several males gave each other friendly head nods. A few of them respectfully removed their cowboy hats. Yet, nobody grinned—not even Joe this time, as would be expected. Most would give her a quick once-over before their pack leader made her feel welcome, but they wouldn’t do anything to be excessively kind. If Sam revealed to Joe that the miner had paid for her first drink, Darien would likely confront him.

She was being frowned at by three women who were sat at one of the larger tables with several men and looked like they wanted her dead. Has someone actually killed Larissa like they threatened to do?

Without glancing at them, Lelandi entered the bathroom, but as soon as she sat down in a stall, she heard the door to the outside squeak open. Her body went rigid. She realized it was too late to stop the danger she was going to face.

When she exited the restroom, the three women were waiting for her with slightly evil smiles on their faces. They were all in their mid-twenties, had dark hair, and were probably all vying to be Darien’s new partner and scared that she was new competition.

When Lelandi came up with this scheme to discover her Larissa’s killer, she had no idea that anyone would think she would be interested in hunting the pack leader. The idea of really mating with a bigger gray seemed intriguing. She gave a mental headshake.

What’s your name? the woman in the cowl-neck sweater and jeans said, her western boot thudding on the tile floor her voice intimidating. Her amber eyes narrowed, her orange-painted lips curled in an ugly way, and she took a long breath, trying to smell Lelandi or whatever she was. Lelandi thought for a moment that her face may horribly freeze in that way. Someone remarked, “You’re not one of us and you’re not from around here.”

Hey Ritka, what say we give her a nice send-off? The shortest one, who despite being shorter than Lelandi by several inches, said.

Lelandi brushed passed her to wash her hands.

Don’t plan on sticking, bitch, a meatier one hissed, flailing her waist-length, muddy-colored hair around.

She spoke while encircling Lelandi. She was bigger than the other two and would be challenging to overcome if she engaged them in a fight to become Darien’s bitch. Lelandi was finding it difficult to maintain her composure because she was no longer being bothered by red-colored female lupus garou.

“Avoid making long-term plans to stay. If you’re interested, I’m just taking care of some little family business.

Red, we know you, and you can’t have him “Lelandi’s breathing space was being invaded by Ritka’s whiskey breath as she hissed in her ear. You are knowledgeable about what happened with the other. Get out of here, honey, before it happens to you as well.

Although her blood was boiling, Lelandi attempted to wash her hands as if the women didn’t exist.

The short one bit into Lelandi’s shoulder, tearing the leather handbag strap. “Explain yourself to us.”

Ritka growled, “As if the bitch would say, Angelina, when she’s in this silly disguise.”

Despite the pain of frustration in her temples, Lelandi washed the soap from her hands and bit back the feral side of her wolf nature that was trying to emerge. Not helping her cause would be beating up three female grays.

Ritka bumped into her, possibly as a result of the other person grabbing her pocketbook and escalating the conflict. Lelandi grit her teeth against taking offense. She reminded herself that nothing they did was significant enough to arouse her.

Lelandi’s hair was caught by the hefty one, who pulled firmly. Men dislike coloured hair, didn’t you know that?

Lelandi’s scalp tore in anguish as she slowly counted to 10, wanting to avoid physical contact but preparing for quick reprisal if anyone did.

Ritka laughed sharply, “You got it right, Hosstene,” and grabbed a fistful of Lelandi’s hair.

Enough! Lelandi judo-chipped Hosstene in the throat with a swift, well-placed jab, elbowed Angelina in the stomach, turned around, and rammed her fist into Ritka’s eye. Lelandi, whose heart was beating, grabbed a paper towel, cleaned her hands, and walked out of the restroom while they were gasping and swearing.

She had already invited problems.