“Damn, I’m starving.” Bracken patted Zander’s arm with the back of his hand. “Hey, look, there’s Gwen.”

Zander tracked his gaze, not sure why a weird sort of anticipation began to slowly spread through him like warm syrup. His vision was blocked by a group of guys, but he could see her head, see her smiling that distant but courteous smile as she carefully took plates from the tray she was holding. Well, it would seem she worked for her brother-in-law as well as her mother. Or adopted mother. He knew from the females’ scents that they weren’t biologically related.

Spotting an empty booth nearby, Zander headed straight for it and slid onto the cushioned bench.

Bracken sat opposite him. “I can’t help but notice that you found us a table in the area Gwen seems to be working.”

Well, it would give Zander the opportunity to watch her, to see how she interacted with people, to work out what the hell was unsettling his wolf. The run hadn’t helped ease the beast’s tension at all.

Dressed in a lemon T-shirt and cutoff shorts, she weaved her way through the group, heading toward the door that he suspected led to the kitchen. Jesus, she had shapely, tanned legs that looked as smooth as butter. His cock twitched. He’d always been a sucker for legs. He could see himself hooking Gwen’s over his shoulders as he—

Spotting him and Bracken, she blinked and then held up one finger. She went into the kitchen only to reappear moments later. “Hey,” she greeted them with a smile, stopping at their table.

His wolf immediately withdrew. There was no submission or fear in the act, just a sort of primal wariness.

“Hey,” said Bracken. “You do manly foods, right?”

Her mouth quirked. “Manly foods?”

“Red meat. Chili. Chicken wings. Stuff like that.”

“Ah, yes, we do manly foods.” She pulled a pen and pad out of her pocket. “Most go for the steak, fries, onion rings, and beer combo.”

Bracken’s smile widened. “That should hit the spot.”

She raised a brow at Zander. “What about you?”

“The same,” he said.

“And bring some nachos too,” Bracken added.

“You got it.” She scribbled down their order on a notepad.

“Yvonne said this place belongs to your sister’s fiancé,” Zander told her.

“That’s right.” Gwen turned to gesture at Chase . . . and saw that he was waving her over. She turned back to the wolves. “I’ll send over another waitress with your beers and have her place your order so you’re not waiting long.”

As she walked away, Zander couldn’t help but take another long look at those legs. Eyes seemed to follow them wherever she went, and he didn’t think she even noticed.

He watched as she handed their order to another waitress and then crossed to a tall, well-built male in the corner. They stood close, not hesitating to enter each other’s personal space. There was nothing sexual about it, but he found that he didn’t like it.

Shamelessly, Zander used his shifter-enhanced hearing to listen to their conversation. It was pretty much impossible to catch more than a few words here and there, but what he did hear sure did send his curiosity spiking.

Gwen sighed at Chase. He stood there, a Marlboro cigarette balanced in his mouth, giving her his trademark glare that made most people—male and female—avert their eyes and back down. Given that Julie was nervous around guys, Gwen still had to marvel that the burly, tattooed male had somehow managed to earn her trust, let alone get her to accept his proposal.

Gwen liked that Julie had someone so tough. Her sister, delicate in many ways, needed that buffer from life. But Gwen didn’t, and Chase saw no need to acknowledge that. He shoved his nose into her business far too often and expected her to effectively report to him. As such, he was pissed that she hadn’t immediately called him when Brandt paid her a visit.

“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.”