Chapter 1
WHY HAD LARISSA, HER LOVING SISTER, ENDED UP DEAD—here, of all the godforsaken places in the States? Maybe that was the reason—off the beaten path, surrounded by wilderness, a place to hide from the harsh realities of the forced marriage, safe from Bruin’s retaliation should he ever have located her. But she hadn’t been safe. And now she was dead.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lelandi Wildhaven thought she saw her cousin, Ural, slink into the woods in his wolf form, but she had to be mistaken. He wouldn’t be angry enough with her to shapeshift this close to Silver Town and risk alerting the gray lupus garou pack that a couple of reds had slipped into their territory.
Ignoring her gut instinct telling her this was a very bad idea, she pushed open the Silver Town Tavern’s heavy door, the squealing of the rusty hinges jarring her taut nerves.
Five bearded men sitting at a table turned to stare at her, and at once she feared the worst—they saw straight through her disguise.
She shoved the faux eyeglasses back into place, hating the way they kept sliding down the bridge of her nose. The weather-beaten cowboy hat she’d picked up at a resale shop half swallowed her head, making her look like a little kid wearing her dad’s Stetson.
Amber glass lights hanging from brass rods high above softly illuminated dark oak tables and a long, polished bar. Slow-spinning wooden fan blades circulated the air, impregnated with the smell of gray lupus garou. Her nerve endings prickled with fresh awareness. Dingy antique mirrors covering the back wall behind the bar bore mute witness to the goings-on in the place, as she suspected they had for decades. If they had captured all the images of the bar’s existence what a story those mirrors could tell.
Another bearded man crouching beneath the lip of the bar suddenly stood to his full six-foot-four height. The glass and dish towel he held nearly slipped from his grasp as his appraising glance took in every inch of her. His lips turned up at the corners slightly. Deep laugh lines were etched in his tanned skin and shaggy black hair extended to his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a rugged mountain man, unused to civilized trappings. What disturbed her most was that he was a gray, like the men drinking at the table. She’d anticipated it would be a human-run establishment frequented by lupus garous, like the bar back home.
“What’ll you have, miss?” he asked, his voice warm and welcoming.
Expecting a chilly greeting—their kind didn’t welcome strangers venturing into their midst, especially if she were human and this was an exclusively gray lupus garou tavern—she hesitated.
“Miss?”
“Bottled water, please.” She’d meant to sound tough, to match the look of the place. She’d intended to be someone different, with her red hair dyed black and the high-heeled boots giving the impression she stood taller, more like them. The blue contacts she wore hid her green eyes sufficiently, but she still felt like Lelandi, triplet to Larissa, with barely any visible difference in appearance, except her eyes were greener and her hair more red and less golden than her sister’s had been. Had her voice betrayed her?
The small smile on the bartender’s face was more likely because she was a stranger who’d walked into a wolves’ den without protection than because she’d given herself away. She cursed herself for not disguising her voice better, but the barkeep’s warm demeanor gave her a false sense of security, which could be the death of her if she wasn’t careful.
The bartender handed her a chilled bottle of water and tall green glass. “New in town?”
“Just passing through,” she said, paying for the water.
“Sam’s the name, miss. If you need anything, just holler.”
“Thanks.” Hollering for a drink was definitely not her style.
She chose a table in the farthermost corner of the room, half-hidden in shadows. Although any of them could see in the dark as well as she could, this location would keep her out of the main flow of traffic. She hoped she’d seem inconspicuous, not worthy of anyone’s scrutiny, and most of all, human.
Lelandi glanced at the door. According to her information, Darien Silver—Larissa’s widowed mate—should be here soon.
One of the men got up from his seat and gave Sam some cash. The man cast Lelandi a hint of a smile, then returned to his chair. Small for a gray, stocky, hair a bland brown, eyes amber, his clothes carrying a coating of dust, he had a soft, round baby face. Looked sweet, a beta-wolf type. Smudges of dirt colored his cheeks, and he wiped them off with the back of his denim shirtsleeve. His eyes never straying from her, he smoothed out his raggedy hair and took another swig of his beer.
Sam joined Lelandi and handed her the cash. “Joe Kelly paid for your drink, miss. He works at the silver mine, which explains his slightly rough appearance. But he cleans up good.” Sam gave her a wink, and returned to the bar.
Should she turn down Joe’s offer? On the other hand, if he was interested in her, maybe she could discover the truth quicker.
“Thank you,” she mouthed to Joe Kelly and his chest swelled.
The other guys started ribbing him in low voices. The tips of Joe’s ears turned crimson.
Her stomach clenched with the notion that Larissa had had the audacity to mate with a gray, especially when she had a mate already. She’d said she wanted to find herself, and she did. Six feet under. Yet, Lelandi couldn’t help feeling it was her own fault, that if she’d taken Larissa’s place back home, or even run away with her, she might have kept her safe. But what about their parents? She couldn’t have left them behind—not with her dad so incapacitated—but hell, she hadn’t been able to protect them either. They had been murdered anyway.
She tamped down a shudder, hating that she hadn’t stopped any of it. But once she learned what had happened to Larissa and put the murderer in his grave, Lelandi was going to locate her brother and their uncle—damn both of them for leaving the family behind.
The barkeep clinked some glasses, his gaze taking her in like a crafty old wolf’s. He probably was on the younger side of middle age but due to the beard, he seemed older. The smile still percolated on his lips. Trying to figure her out? Or did he realize what a phony she was? Hunting in the wild was nothing new, but hunting like this…
She twisted the top off her bottled water and glanced down at her watch again. Only four twenty-five.
“Waiting for someone?” Sam asked, one dark brow cocked.
She shook her head. Her hat jiggled, her glasses slipped, and the annoying earrings danced.
Two men appeared in front of one of the dingy tavern windows and then the door jerked open. Her heart skittered.
“Hey, Sam! Bring us a pitcher of beer,” one of them called.
About six-foot—as tall as her brother—with windswept shoulder-length dark hair and a newly started beard, his amber eyes hinted at cheerfulness and good-humor rang in his words. Both men wore leather jackets, plaid shirts, denims, cowboy hats, and boots, and they appeared to be twins. Multiple births abounded among lupus garous, so no surprise there. They looked like they were mid- to late-twenties and walked into the place like they owned the joint. “Jake, Tom.” Sam glanced in her direction, alerting them to the presence of a stranger.
She stiffened her back and gripped her glass tighter.
Tom—his hair the lighter of the two, longer, curling around his broad shoulders, his face smooth as silk—fastened his gaze on her and raised his brows, tipped back his Stetson, and grinned.
Self-conscious, her whole body heated and alarm bells rang. Keep a low profile!
Tom took a deep breath as if he were love-struck. “The place looks a might better tonight, Sam. Done some nice redecorating.”
The bearded one furrowed his dark brows. “Didn’t you tell her it’s a private club and no matter what, that table is reserved?”
“Bending the rules today. First come, first served.” Sam grinned and winked at Lelandi.
Damn. Was this where Darien normally sat? She thought he’d sit in the center, so everyone could see their leader. That’s the way Bruin did it back home.
Now what? Move? To where? If she moved to the table across from Darien’s, she feared she’d draw too much attention. Not that she expected anyone to hurt her here, but she had thought she’d be able to keep a low profile. The tables situated on the other side of the bar sat in front of the restrooms. Anywhere else was too near the front door or in the middle of the floor, and no matter what, she wanted to have her back to the wall. She wasn’t leaving until she’d had a chance to observe the leader and as many of his pack members as she could, any one of whom might have murdered Larissa.
Tom grabbed the pitcher of beer and a glass. “Come on, Jake. Change is good for the soul.” He stalked over to the table opposite her and sat where he could see both the front door and, most of all, her.
Immersed in a goldfish bowl, she wondered what had made her think she could enter the wolves’ lair without arousing suspicion.
Jake sat with his back to the wall to have a better view of the door. If he wanted to look her over, he’d have to turn his head and be pretty obvious about it. He did. The expression on his face was dark and foreboding. Gone was the humor his features had held when he first walked into the place.
Laughing and boisterous, three more men barged into the tavern, glanced to where Jake and Tom sat, then shifted their attention to Lelandi. Which meant what? That Jake and Tom normally sat with Darien at the table where she was now sitting?
Terrific!
“Howdy, boys,” the older bearded man of the group said, nodding a greeting. The other two were nearly as old, gray streaking their brown beards, their gazes pinned on her. “Bring us the usual, Sam.” He turned to Jake and pointed his head at her. “He know about this?”
“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 restrooms to lessen the chance of creating fireworks, Lelandi grabbed her purse.
