Everyone looked to see what Darien would do. He eyed the men and then took a swig of his bottled water.
Silva gave the newcomers a big smile. “Coming.” But she didn’t.
“You want me to say something to them?” Jake asked Darien.
“No. No need,” Darien said, still eyeing the men.
Darien was like that. He didn’t need to use his muscle to show who was boss. Yet everyone there knew he’d take the men to task if the situation required it.
Sam’s beard, height, and muscular build made him look more like a grizzly than a gray wolf, and he glared at the men as he poured drinks from the tap, casting a watchful eye on Silva.
Sam might be big, but he moved fast. Tom had seen him dive around the counter, grab an unruly wolf, and throw him out the door faster than anyone could react. Just give him a good reason. And all he needed for motivation was someone being nasty to Silva.
When Silva waited on a table near the Silver brothers’, the three men’s scowls hardened. Sam had already given them each a beer. Granted, their mugs were empty again, but it was a busy afternoon as the wolves in the area enjoyed a reprieve from the last snowstorm before the next hit.
Tom turned back to the table, confident Sam could handle the situation but still wary about the wolf strangers, especially considering the topic at hand. “Since we’ve never smelled any sign of the wolves that have been sneaking around the farms, I suspect they’ve got to be some of our kind.” He eyed the strangers again.
Jake agreed. “Yeah, I’m inclined to think they could be from our pack, or they wouldn’t disguise their scent. Otherwise, we wouldn’t know who they were anyway.”
“Possibly. Or they just don’t want us trailing them. Which brings us to which ones they are and why they’re doing this,” Darien said.
“Or they could just be troublemaking wolves or wolves for hire. Or some other wolves that have a beef with us,” Jake said.
“You mean like the wolves from the red pack who caused us trouble before?” Tom asked.
“Hey, lady!” one of the other outsider wolves said. “Are you working only that side of the tavern?”
Sam slammed a mug of beer on the countertop, sloshing it all over.
Tom asked Darien, “Are you sure you don’t want me to speak to them?”
“No. Sam will take care of it, if necessary.”
Tom knew that was Darien’s way of saying that Sam was Silva’s protector, and he wanted him to get off the fence about mating with her. Everyone in town knew Silva only desired Sam, and vice versa. Nobody wanted to get on Sam’s bad side, so even if some wolves flirted with Silva, nobody was about to court her.
Tom slid a glance Elizabeth’s way. She took everything in—the discussion about the wolf-pack trouble they had, the interaction between pack members and outsiders. He took a deep breath to smell her reaction and thought maybe she would be worried or anxious. She wasn’t. She was ready to tackle the men, her adrenaline running high, her fingers clenched around her milk glass, her expression feral. He smiled at her. Even though this wasn’t her battle and it wasn’t her pack, she appeared ready to fight on Silva’s behalf.
Silva might act like she needed the pack’s help, but she was good at dealing with issues herself.
“I’ll be right there,” Silva said very sweetly. She enjoyed riling people who got on her bad side.
She passed by the bar, smiled at Sam, and gave him the drink order for the men seated at the table next to Darien’s. Then she continued on her way to the outsiders’ table.
When she reached them, the blond man scratched his beard, his cold, dark eyes focused on her. “Hell, woman, a man could die of thirst before he got a spit of whiskey in this place.”
“Silva,” she said in a sugary way. She could be a real tigress when she was provoked, but she also knew how to play people. “I thought you had a beer.”
Tom was ready to move if any of the men got physical with her. “I’ll take the redhead on the left,” he said to his brothers.
Jake smirked. “Hell, Tom, that’s the smallest guy of the bunch. Okay, I’ll take the scraggly black-haired guy to the right.”
“You need glasses,” Tom retorted. “The guy on the right is the smallest one of the three.”
Elizabeth chuckled. Tom smiled.
When the dark-haired man reached for Silva’s arm, virtually every male in the tavern shoved his chair aside and headed for the newcomers’ table. Sam was there, too, a full bottle of whiskey in his clenched hand. He looked like he was itching to use it.
The man quickly pulled back his hand.
“Time to go, boys,” Darien said, his eyes glittering with menace. “Storm’s coming in. You better get out of town before it’s too late.”
The man narrowed his eyes at Darien. “It’s a free country. And the storm’s not coming in for a couple of days.”
“I run the town.”
The men’s eyes all rounded as Darien got their attention.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the spokesman for the group said, rising slowly. “And you are who exactly?”
“Darien Silver, and my advice still stands.”
Tom and the rest of the men were ready to back Darien up with force, if necessary. If the three strangers always acted like this, a pack didn’t need them.
The other two men rose from the table.
“Seems we’re not welcome here.” The spokesman cast one last glance in Silva’s direction, then slid his gaze Elizabeth’s way.
That had Tom hot under the collar.
Without another word, the three outsiders headed out of the tavern.
Jake said, “I’ve got to get back to the slopes.”
“See you tonight,” Darien replied. He turned to three men of their pack. They all bowed their heads just a little in acknowledgment and left the tavern. They would make sure that the troublemakers headed out of town.
Darien pulled Tom aside and lowered his voice. “I want you to bring Elizabeth up to the house as soon as you get her things.”
“We intend to come up later, in time for dinner.”
“We don’t really know what’s going on with her. I’d rather she stay with us until she leaves.”
“All right.”
“I’ll see you both in just a bit,” Darien said and headed out of the tavern.
Tom returned to the table where Elizabeth was still seated. She’d finished her sandwich and drunk the last of her milk. “Are we ready to go back to the B and B?” she asked.
“Change of plans.” As independent as Elizabeth appeared, Tom was afraid she wouldn’t like the change of plans one bit.
Chapter 9
Bertha’s face was scrunched up with concern as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her wet hands off on a towel, and greeted Tom and Elizabeth when they arrived at her inn. “Oh, my, I can’t believe anyone would hurt you, Elizabeth.”
Bertha’s curly hair drooped a little, and she smelled of soy sauce, spicy mustard, and pork chops. If Tom hadn’t already had dinner plans at Darien’s house, he would have opted to eat here.
“I’m fine,” Elizabeth reiterated, but she smiled, touched that Bertha would be so concerned, having only just met her.
Bertha added, “Darien called and said you’re moving her to his house.”
“He just told me,” Tom said, not wanting to get into it with Elizabeth again.
“I don’t need to leave here,” Elizabeth protested. Again. She’d tried to talk him out of it on the short drive from the tavern to the inn.
In a consoling voice, Bertha said, “Darien told me you might have had a run-in with someone who could be more trouble, and he doesn’t want to take any chances with you staying here since my husband is out of town. Not only that, but Doc Weber insisted Tom stay the night with you. You know, to… monitor you condition.” Elizabeth could have sworn Bertha cast Tom a fleeting, conspiratorial look.