Terry Spear’s Wolf Bundle (32 page)

The eyes that latched onto her again were cold, yet sorrow was reflected in them, too. He jerked the glass off the counter and headed to where Jake and Tom sat. He forced Tom to move to the chair with his back to the door, giving Darien a better view of both her and the entrance.

How could she observe the pack members if the leader kept an eye on her? Even now, she was certain he could smell her fear. She told herself she wasn’t afraid of him, but any
lupus garou
who was worth his pelt would take heed when confronting a pack leader.

Frozen with indecision, she remained seated. What the hell, let him think she was too afraid to move from her chair—
his
chair, whatever.

The first woman she’d seen tonight entered the tavern dressed in short shorts and a turtleneck shirt, with leather boots mid-thigh, her sable hair piled on top of her head in whirls of dark curls.

“Hey, Silva,” one of the four men seated at the bar said and whistled. “Looking hot.”

She gave him a flashy bright red-lipped grin, then glanced in Lelandi’s direction. Astonishment was reflected in her expression. Silva’s gaze shifted and she spied Darien nearby. Bending over the bar to give the guys a better look at her ass, she whispered something to Sam. He looked over at Lelandi. Yep, she was sure to be the topic of conversation tonight.

Sam shrugged. “Drawing a real crowd tonight, Silva. Why don’t you see if the boss needs some more beer?”

Tom lifted the empty pitcher. “Need a refill. Looks like the lady could use another drink.”

Desperately wanting out of the limelight, Lelandi melted into her seat.

Silva gave her a simpering smile. “Well, well, looks like the word has gotten out to some far-reaching places. Guess it won’t be long before the place will be crawling with—”

Sam slammed a pitcher of beer on the counter. “Take care of the customers, Silva, and play nice.”

She sneered at him, then grabbed the pitcher. “Yes siree, boss, that’s what you pay me for.” Swinging her hips, she carried the beer to Darien’s table, and then gave him a big smile. “Here ya go, boss. Just whistle if you need more.”

Darien didn’t say a word, just leaned back in his chair and looked over at Lelandi.

Silva made a face and headed for Lelandi’s table. “Need another…
bottled water
?”

Time for a drink.
“Got margaritas?” Lelandi spoke low, only it wasn’t low enough.

Tom choked on his beer. A couple of the men at the bar chuckled. Sam smiled and poured whiskey for one of the men.

“I don’t know, sugar.” Silva turned to Sam. “Hey, Sam, we got fancy drinks for an out-of-towner? Like a
margarita
?” She said the word as if she was speaking of a woman’s cute name.

More chuckles ensued.

“I can whip up anything the little lady would like.”

Little. That described her all right. Five-four, and the size of a red
lupus garou
female. She sat taller.

“Is that what you would like,
Miss
…
?
” Silva asked, drawing it out, searching for a name.

“Yes, thank you.”

Tough, damn it.
Lelandi wanted to present a tougher image in front of the grays. She’d practiced and
practiced and so what did she do? Acted like a squeaky damned mouse. Used to being around her own kind, she’d never felt intimidated—much. Having earned double black belts in jujitsu and kung fu helped boost her confidence around human brutes. But these people were neither human nor her own kind, and a whole pack of them could devour her alive if she gave them the opportunity.

The woman leaned closer and Lelandi was again sure she was about to be found out. Silva breathed in the air, and her brown eyes narrowed. Despite wearing a ton of fancy human perfumes, and of course the stench from the fresh dye job—although Lelandi had washed her hair in strawberry shampoo trying to cover up that odor—she hoped no one could smell that she was a
lupus garou,
and not one of their own kind, either. Looked like it didn’t work.

“Well, well, well.” Silva straightened her back. “Make the lady a margarita, Sam.”

“Put the first on my tab,” Tom piped up. “Wouldn’t want the lady to think we’re a bunch of unfriendly old coots.”

“The second one’s on me,” Silva said.

The miner, Joe Kelly, looked disappointed that he hadn’t spoken up first, but as much of a beta wolf as he appeared, he probably wouldn’t say anything to tick Darien off. Darien’s brothers would be the exceptions, and Silva seemed able to do as she pleased.

Darien didn’t say a word. He exuded control with just a look—dangerous, not the kind of man to rile. His actions, or lack thereof, spoke louder than any words. Bruin would have blustered all over the tavern
in Darien’s place. Proving he was the pack leader and no one would disobey him, Bruin would have taken her to task immediately, belittled her, thrown her out of the joint bodily if she’d taken
his
seat. But just a glower from Darien conveyed a world of threat, and she’d do well to heed it.

Everyone seemed fascinated with the reason Silva had taken an interest in Lelandi. They had to figure Silva had discovered something about her. Silva seemed amused Lelandi was a red
lupus garou
masquerading as a human. At least Lelandi assumed the woman had found her out.

“Where ya staying, darlin’?” Silva’s tone was much more appeasing, the sweetness faked.

Lelandi cleared the sudden frog in her throat. “Just passing through.”

Silence.
The woman’s eyes darkened, and she quickly glanced at Darien. His eyes had widened, and he was staring at Lelandi.
Shit.
Her voice must have sounded similar to Larissa’s this time, the way she spoke, the inflection, something.

Low conversation took place at the table next to Darien’s and among the grays at the bar while Sam whipped up Lelandi’s margarita, but no one at Darien’s table spoke a word.

More patrons entered the tavern, all looking to greet their leader, then, finding a dead ringer for his dead mate sitting at his regular table, turned to see Darien, and the scenario repeated itself until the place was crowded and noisy. But no one dared sit at her table.
Thank god.
The more important conversations were conducted low so she couldn’t hear the gist of them, but she only had to
guess what was being said. Dead sister’s clone arrives at grays’ hangout, seeking revenge. They’d all be shaking in their boots.
Right.

After finishing her margarita, Lelandi was dying to go to the bathroom, and the place had grown so warm, she shrugged out of her jacket.
Big mistake.
As soon as they saw how petite she was, the whole room grew quiet again.

Silva hurried over with another margarita for Lelandi, although she intended to get another bottle of water.

“On me, sweetie,” the woman said, this time with real affection. Standing nearly five-foot-ten, in her four-inch heels, she was small for a female gray.

“Thanks.” Lelandi stood, and the woman’s face dropped, probably thinking Lelandi meant to leave, snubbing her for the drink. “Got to use the little girls’ room.”

“Oh.” Silva’s lips turned up slightly. “Back that way.” She motioned with her hand.

“Thanks.” Lelandi hadn’t considered what it would feel like to walk through the tavern to the ladies’ room, until everyone acted so interested in her. With her shoulders straight back, her chin tilted up, and her body ten degrees hotter than normal, she made her way to the restroom.

Several men nodded their heads in greeting. Respectfully, a couple of them took their cowboy hats off. None smiled though, not even Joe this time, which would be typical. Until their pack leader made her welcome, most would look her over, but wouldn’t make any move to be overtly friendly. Darien would probably take Joe to task if Sam told him the miner had paid for her first drink.

Sitting with some men at one of the larger tables, three women glowered at her as if they wished her dead. Had any of them wanted Larissa eliminated and carried out the threat?

Ignoring them, Lelandi walked into the restroom, but after entering a stall, she heard the outer door squeak open. Her skin chilled. Too late to circumvent the trouble headed her way.

When she exited the stall, the three women were waiting for her, their expressions slightly amused in a sinister manner. All brown-haired, around mid-twenties like her—probably each vying to be Darien’s new mate and fearing she was new competition.

When she’d come up with this scheme of looking for her Larissa’s murderer, Lelandi had never considered anyone would think she’d be interested in pursuing the pack’s leader. The idea of mating with a bigger gray for real…She mentally shook her head.

“What’s your name?” the woman in denims and a cowl-neck sweater asked, her voice softly threatening, her western boot tapping on the tile floor. Her amber eyes narrowed, she took in a deep breath—trying to smell who or what Lelandi was—and curled her orange-painted lips up in a nasty way. The notion her face could hideously freeze that way briefly crossed Lelandi’s mind. “You’re not from around here, and you’re not one of us.”

“Hey, Ritka, what say we give her a nice send-off?” the shortest one asked, still towering over Lelandi by several inches.

Lelandi brushed past her to wash her hands.

“Don’t plan on staying, bitch,” a meatier one snarled, whipping her waist-length, muddy-colored hair about
as she spoke, crowding Lelandi. Bulkier than the other two, she would make a hefty wolf and hard to beat if she craved being Darien’s bitch and fought the others to have that role. But no female
lupus garou
—well, of the red variety—crowded Lelandi anymore and got away with it, and she was having a devil of a time maintaining her cool.

“Don’t intend to stay long. Just taking care of a little family business, if it’s any of your concern.”

Ritka whispered close to her ear, her whiskey breath invading Lelandi’s breathing space, “We know who you are, and you can’t have him, Red. You know what happened to the other one. Get out of Dodge, honey, before it happens to you, too.”

Her blood sizzling, Lelandi attempted to wash her hands as if the women didn’t exist.

The short one yanked at her purse and the leather strap bit into Lelandi’s shoulder. “Tell us who you are.”

“As if the bitch would say, Angelina, when she’s wearing this fool disguise,” Ritka snarled.

Lelandi’s temple pounded with frustration, but she rinsed the soap off her hands and bit back the feral part of her wolf nature clawing to get out. Beating up three female grays wouldn’t help her cause.

Ritka bumped into her, probably triggered by the other pulling at her purse, each leading the other on, escalating the situation. Lelandi clenched her teeth against retaliating. Nothing they did was important enough to provoke her, she reminded herself.

The heavy one grabbed a handful of Lelandi’s hair and yanked hard. “Guys don’t like dyed hair, didn’t you know?”

The pain ripped across Lelandi’s scalp, and she counted slowly to ten, hoping to avoid physical contact, but planning swift retaliation if anyone did anything else.

“You got that right, Hosstene,” Ritka said with a sharp laugh and reached for a handful of Lelandi’s hair.

Enough!
With a quick well-placed jab, Lelandi elbowed Angelina in the gut, judo-chopped Hosstene in the throat, then swung around and slammed her fist into Ritka’s eye. While they were choking and cursing, Lelandi grabbed a paper towel, dried her hands, and left the restroom, her heart racing.

She’d asked for trouble now.

N
O
,
DAMN
IT
. T
HE
BITCHES
HAD
ASKED
FOR
TROUBLE
AND
as much as told Lelandi that someone had murdered Larissa for being a red.

She opened the restroom door and slammed it behind her, shutting out the women’s curses. The men who were sitting with the women looked from Lelandi to the ladies’ room.
Sorry, boys, the girls need to tidy up a bit.

Lelandi retook her seat and when the women still didn’t emerge from the restroom, Sam motioned for Silva to check it out.

Maybe now would be a good time for Lelandi to go in search of her rogue brother and uncle. Forget that Larissa had run away and gotten herself killed, leaving Lelandi to deal with Bruin’s pack alone. Or, she could stay and face the wrath of a bunch of angry grays.

As a matter of pride and a good deal of stubbornness, she stayed. All eyes remained on the restroom while Lelandi coolly drank her second margarita. No one spoke. No doubt the whole lot of them would murder Lelandi in her sleep tonight. She hoped her time here wasn’t totally wasted. But she wasn’t giving up.

Silva came out of the restroom, her lips turned up, her eyes sparkling with amusement, head shaking. She raised her brows at the guys who were with the women and strolled past. Her attention turned to Darien,
waiting for a report. Her smile broadened, then she spoke to Sam.

“Next margarita’s on me, Silva, for the young lady.” Tom offered Lelandi a grin and a wink.

Lelandi shook her head. “Water will be fine.”

The three women crowded out of the bathroom, Ritka scowling, her swollen right eye already turning black and blue. Angelina was still clutching her stomach, and Hosstene’s face was dark with anger—Lelandi was pretty sure her jab to the gray’s throat would preclude her talking much for a while.

Everyone looked the women over, then Lelandi. No, she wasn’t fighting to be the pack leader’s new bitch.

She guessed it was time to come up with a new plan. This one damn sure wasn’t working.

Darien Silver watched the defiant young lady who had to be his mate’s twin. Had to be. The voice clinched it. At first, he thought she was some ditsy human sitting in
his
chair at
his
table, and he couldn’t understand why Sam hadn’t thrown her out of the place. At least he’d thought she was human.
Lupus garous
had exceptional visual acuity. Only humans wore glasses. And the pierced earrings. No
lupus garou
would get caught dead with pierced earlobes in their wolf form. Or wear a watch, for that matter. The straight black hair looked nothing like his dead mate’s, and the blue eyes had stopped him cold. The perfume she’d drowned herself in, he figured, was some ploy to get all the guys in the tavern hot and bothered, but for
lupus garous,
the
smell was overwhelming, burned their eyes, and had the opposite effect.

Her voice was all it took to send shivers exploding across his skin.

He swore he was seeing his late wife sipping margaritas, which she never would have done. A wine lady was what she was. And the way this woman had handled the ladies from his pack? His mate would never have managed.

Taking a steadying breath, he reminded himself the woman wasn’t his mate. She only looked like her when he scrutinized her closely, her small face dominated by the oversized Stetson and the bug-eyed, rose-colored glasses, but personality-wise she couldn’t be more different from his beloved Lelandi. Except his people already seemed to make up their minds. Lelandi had returned, and he would have a go at her again.

Not in a million years. She’d killed herself, unstable, unable to deal with the stress of being a pack leader’s mate, and not being one of them in the first place…Nope, wouldn’t happen again. Next one would be a gray, except not from his pack. Except for Silva, the eligible women had resented Lelandi, and he couldn’t forgive them.

He finished his third beer and set his glass aside. He tried to watch his people to take his mind off his dead mate, but the woman sitting at his table distracted him something fierce. What the hell was she doing here anyway? Come to claim her sister’s body? Scream at him for pushing her sister over the edge? Condemning himself enough for her death for the past three weeks, he didn’t need anyone else’s help. Not enough beers in
the world could make him forget the look on Lelandi’s face, at peace finally in death.

He shook his head. Although he usually stayed until closing, tonight he wanted to get away. How would it look if the pack leader couldn’t deal with the image of his late wife sitting at the next table?

Growling deep inside, he poured himself another beer.

“Twin sister, don’t you think, Darien?” Tom, his youngest triplet asked, his brows raised.

“Yeah. Lelandi said she didn’t have any family left. Apparently she lied.” Which didn’t set well with Darien, but it was too late to be angered about it.

“What do you think she’s doing here?” Tom rubbed his hand over the sweating glass.

“Something to do with her sister, no doubt.”

“Think the woman suspects Lelandi was murdered?” Jake asked.

Darien looked sharply at him. “What the hell makes you say that?”

Jake shrugged. “Why wouldn’t she meet with you and state what her business is here? Why try to conceal her identity? The only conclusion I can come up with is she doesn’t think Lelandi’s death was an accident. And she’s looking into it herself.”

“Hell.” Darien glowered at the red, wondering what her hair would look like if it wasn’t that hideous black color, way too harsh for her light creamy skin.

“Looks like she gave the ladies hell who meant to mess with her.” Tom grinned.

“Which means there’ll be more trouble.” Jake’s voice was as dark as Darien felt.

Darien turned to Tom. “I want you to—”

Jake interrupted, “She’s leaving.”

All conversation in the tavern instantly died.

Her boots clicked on the wood floor as she walked toward the door, her back stiff, her hands clenched in fists—her whole body language saying,
Don’t mess with me.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he craved chasing after her and laying claim to her, just like he’d done with her sister. He felt an overwhelming urge to kiss those pursed lips, feel her soft skin naked beneath his, make love to her like he’d made love to her sister. He was definitely losing it.

With the utmost restraint, he remained seated and observed her open the door. “Follow her, Tom. Watch where she goes, and…hell, stick to her for the night.”

“You sure? You really mean it?” Tom asked, his voice too hopeful.

“Just don’t let anyone get to her, all right?”

“He means,” Jake interjected, “don’t let anyone screw with her and that includes you.”

Tom looked at Darien for confirmation. If his brother wanted her and the woman was agreeable, who was he to say no? Their kind wasn’t into casual sex, so if she wanted a mate and Tom was interested, fine. Darien wasn’t about to go down that road again. “Do whatever it takes to make sure none of our people bother her.”

Tom gave Jake a look like he had him there. “Thanks, Darien. I’ll take care of her.” He hurried after Lelandi’s sister as the door slammed behind her.

Sending Tom after the woman signaled to the rest of his people in the tavern, and the word would quickly spread to the others, Darien wanted her left alone. If any stepped over the line, he’d hold them accountable.

Jake moved his glass over the wooden table, scraping it back and forth.

Darien glowered at him. “What, Jake?”

“Don’t you think you should talk with the woman? Find out what she’s doing here?”

“Why do you think Lelandi was murdered?”

“You’ve buried your head in the sand on this one, brother. Several believe someone murdered her, but when they spy me, the talking stops. No one will tell me or Tom what they suspect.”

“A conspiracy?”

“No. At least I don’t think so. Unless they’re protecting someone, or are afraid you’d be too mad if you learned the truth.”

“Most of the pack believes I’d be happier thinking she committed suicide?”

Jake twisted his head to the side. “Yeah. If we have a murderer in our midst, it could shake up the whole pack. If she committed suicide, everything would be a lot cleaner.”

“She left a suicide note in her own handwriting. She killed herself. End of story.” Darien took another swig of his beer, but this time it tasted sour.

“Then why don’t you tell her sister the truth? Why send Tom, who’s bound to botch the whole thing?” Jake’s mouth curved up, the first truly evil smile Darien had seen him offer in a while. “If he gets fresh, he’s liable to look like Ritka with a colorful new eye.”

Darien ignored his comment. “If a twin sister is looking into what happened, Lelandi must not have had any brothers.”

“We didn’t know she had any family, period.”

Darien rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the tension pooling there. The gnawing pain of her death would never fade away, but now seeing her look-alike sister brought it all crashing back tenfold. Yet, he was furious with his mate for killing herself. Doc said it was part of the grief process, but Darien hated himself for not controlling his feelings better. Remorse, that’s the only feeling he should allow himself. “I’m beginning to assume I didn’t know a lot about my mate.”

Jake glanced back at their usual table. “If it were me, I’d tell the woman what I thought and send her packing. Things could get out of hand if she hangs around. It appears the other women think she wants to be your mate to replace her sister.”

“That would be the damned day,” Darien growled, yet a twinge of need wreaked havoc with his feelings, and his brother looked like he didn’t believe him one bit.

Not far from the tavern, Lelandi heard the door creak open and shut. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Tom taking great strides to reach her, his eyes and mouth lit in a smile.

Great. Just great.
How in the hell was she going to put Plan B into effect and break into Darien’s house to search for clues about Larissa’s death while he was drinking at the tavern if one of his brothers shadowed her?

She cast him an annoyed look. His lips curved up even more and his eyes sparkled with way too much interest. She headed for the Hastings Bed and Breakfast,
figuring she’d slip out the window of her room if Tom took up residence in the lobby.

Before she reached the brick building, Tom joined her, standing so close that the heat of his body reached out to her. “You’re Lelandi’s sister, aren’t you?”

“Larissa’s,” she corrected.

He bowed his head slightly. “I wasn’t certain until I heard you speak. You sure shook Darien up. But he needed to be rousted from the pit of hell he’s been wallowing—”

The familiar sound of danger, a clicking sound made when someone switched the safety off on a gun, caught her ear, and she whipped her head around. In a heartbeat, she wished she’d brought her gun in her purse. But it was hidden under the mattress until she needed it. And she was afraid she needed it now.

Tom seized her arm. “Wait,” he whispered.

Her skin prickled with fresh concern. He’d heard it, too. She’d hoped she’d been mistaken.

“Nine-millimeter,” he warned, his voice hushed.

Before they could move, a shot rang out, Tom yelled and shoved Lelandi behind him, but collapsed to his knees. “Run! Go back to the tavern!”

Ohmigod, the bastard had shot Tom!
Seizing his arm, she tried to move him, but he was dead weight as he slipped to the asphalt, passed out. Blood streaked down his face. The bullet had struck him in the temple.

The shooter moved out of the shadows, blocking her path to the tavern. A pleasant face to look at if the murdering bastard weren’t wearing such a scowl. His scruffy black beard, unkempt hair, and rumpled clothes made it appear he’d been living on the run for a few
days. Amber eyes looked almost wolflike, but being upwind of him, she couldn’t tell if he was human or
lupus garou.

He aimed his gun at her.
Silver bullets or regular?

“What do you want?” Her heart racing, she tried to buy herself time.

Had anyone in the noisy tavern heard the shooting? She couldn’t tackle the gunman from this distance. If she dashed for the inn, he might shoot Mrs. Hastings, or the twin girls who kept hanging around the lobby, although Lelandi sure wanted to get her gun.

Where the hell was Ural, now that she could use his help? If he was in his wolf form like she suspected, his wicked canines could take care of the menace. Taking time to strip and shapeshift into the wolf herself wasn’t an option.

Out of choices, she did the only thing she could think of to rouse help for Tom and maybe scare off the hesitant gunman. She screamed.

The shooter’s eyes widened, his lips curved down, and he pulled the trigger, firing once, twice, three times. The impact of the bullets ripped into her chest, throwing her against the brick building, and she nearly collapsed. At first, no pain registered as she struggled to stay on her feet. When she didn’t immediately expire on the spot, he stared at her as if she was the devil incarnate.

Then the pain struck hard and for an instant, her thought processes threatened to shut down. When he raised his gun, her brain caught hold.

She dashed toward the forest skirting the town, intending to double back as soon as she could and get help for Tom. She’d give the shooter a real run for his
blood money. Thank god the bullets didn’t burn like silver ones would. She’d live, if she could find refuge and allow her body time to heal.

“Bloody hell!” Her assailant took chase.

Stabbing pain streaked through every inch of her now, and she could feel the hot blood seeping from the wounds. Every second her heart pumped more blood out, and she felt her legs weakening.

Run, damn you, Lelandi.
If ever she had to push herself, this was the time.

Branches broke several yards behind her as she dove around trees, scrambled over fallen, rotting trunks, clawed through thick brush. As much noise as the gunman was making, she again assumed he was human.
Good.
He couldn’t see the trail of blood she was leaving, nor could he smell her scent. Then again, the breeze was shifting so much, it would help to disguise her location. Oh hell, as much perfume as she was wearing, probably even a human could follow her. She tried to remain downwind of him.