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, Sliva, 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...?” SlIva 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 flying 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 shed 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 Leiandi assumed the woman had found her out.
Where ya staying, darlin’?” Siiva’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 ft 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.”