Chapter 2 TWO

Everyone remained deathly quiet—no one lifted a mug to take a sip of a drink, no one moved a muscle. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to look at Kiran, to see what he was doing now.

Still staring at her. She wanted to sink into the floor like mop water on a hot day. She gritted her teeth, lifted her glass of water, and took another swig, hoping she wouldn’t inadvertently choke on the icy drink out of nervousness. But she wasn’t leaving Silver Town until she avenged Lena’s death.

Kiran glanced at Sam, who shrugged a shoulder and handed him an empty glass. If Kiran wanted her out of his chair, he would have to move her.

Macho gang leaders had to show they were in charge, particularly when it came to their territory, and no one, especially women, upstaged them. There were none more notorious for this than lupus garous. No one chal

lenged them and got away with it, unless another lupus garou was trying to take over the pack, and won.

She wasn’t part of his pack. She wasn’t a male. And she wasn’t a gray. What’s worse, she looked like his dead mate. On the other hand, it appeared he wasn’t sure of what he was seeing.

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 Kiran 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 Lisa’s direction. Astonishment was reflected in her expression. Silva’s gaze shifted and she spied Kiran nearby. Bending over the bar to give the guys a better look at her ass, she whispered something to Sam. He looked over at Lisa. 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, Lisa 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 Kiran’s table, and then gave him a big smile. “Here ya go, boss. Just whistle if you need more.”

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

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

Time for a drink. “Got margaritas?” Lisa 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. Lisa 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 Lisa 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 Lisa 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 Kiran off. Kiran’s brothers would be the exceptions, and Silva seemed able to do as she pleased.

Kiran 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 Kiran’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 Kiran 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 Lisa. They had to figure Silva had discovered something about her. Silva seemed amused Lisa was a red lupus garou masquerading as a human. At least Lisa assumed the woman had found her out.

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

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

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

Low conversation took place at the table next to Kiran’s and among the grays at the bar while Sam whipped up Lisa’s margarita, but no one at Kiran’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 Kiran, 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, Lisa 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 Lisa, 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.” Lisa stood, and the woman’s face dropped, probably thinking Lisa 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.” Lisa 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. Kiran 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 Lena eliminated and carried out the threat?

Ignoring them, Lisa 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 Kiran’s new mate and fearing she was new competition.

When she’d come up with this scheme of looking for her Lena’s murderer, Lisa 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 Lisa was—and curled her orange-painted lips up in a nasty way. The notion her face could hideously freeze that way briefly crossed Lisa’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 Lisa by several inches.

Lisa 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 Lisa. Bulkier than the other two, she would make a hefty wolf and hard to beat if she craved being Kiran’s bitch and fought the others to have that role. But no female lupus garou—well, of the red variety—crowded Lisa 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 Lisa’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, Lisa 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 Lisa’s shoulder. “Tell us who you are.”

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

Lisa’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. Lisa clenched her teeth against retaliating. Nothing they did was important enough to provoke her, she reminded herself.

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

The pain ripped across Lisa’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 Lisa’s hair.

Enough! With a quick well-placed jab, Lisa 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, Lisa grabbed a paper towel, dried her hands, and left the restroom, her heart racing.

She’d asked for trouble now.