“Yeah, we were just going for food. Thanks,” Bo says.
Jared tosses him a t-shirt. “We were afraid you were thinking about squirrelling out of here without saying goodbye, so we thought we’d head you off.”
“No, sir,” Bo says, addressing the biggest guy, rather than Jared. “This is my girlfriend, Sloane. Sloane, this is Garrett and Trey. They’re all from my hometown.”
I assume that’s code for—they’re all wolves, or they’re all from my pack, but they don’t know that I know, so I shake hands politely. “Nice to meet you.”
Trey sets the box of donuts on the kitchen table, and Bo and I dive into them.
“So what happened last night?” Garrett pulls a chair back and sits in it. The other two also sit, and since there’s only three chairs, Bo and I remain standing.
Like we’re on trial.
Which we maybe are.
Bo gets out five glasses and pours the milk. “Sloane’s in some trouble. It’s personal to her, and I don’t think you necessarily need to know what it is,” he explains, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Does it involve the same trouble Winslow’s in?” Garrett asks.
I stiffen.
Bo picks up his third donut. “Yeah, it’s related. You guys heard about that, huh?”
“Member of the former pa—uh, community—gets shot by cops, yeah, we’re gonna hear about it,” Trey says.
Garrett narrows his eyes at Bo. “Were you involved in the car thefts?”
Bo squares his shoulders. “No, sir. Well, not until last night.”
Garrett relaxes back in his chair and crosses one ankle over a massive knee. “Okay.”
“Like I said, Sloane’s in some personal trouble that isn’t her fault. She needs a lot of money fast. That’s how she got mixed up in stealing cars. Last night she tried to sell one to these assholes on the border, and they jacked the car instead. They tried to kill us, but, ah, we got away.”
Garrett looks at Bo for a long time, then his glance darts at me.
I’m pretty sure he’s trying to figure out if I know they’re wolves or not.
“How did you get away?”
Bo shifts on his feet.
“You lie to me, I will beat your ass,” Garrett warns.
Bo rubs his nose. The other men’s gazes shift to me and back.
“Come on. You’re better off telling me than you are my dad, so spill it.”
“I shifted when they shot me.”
Shifted. That’s what they call it.
Bo’s voice is quiet like he’s admitting something bad. I know he said he violated two pack rules. I’m guessing revealing himself to non-werewolves was one of them. “There were three of them. I did some damage to one guy, but I don’t think it was fatal. At least, he was alive when they left.”
“Fuck,” Garrett says.
Bo runs his hand through his hair. “Well, what the fuck was I supposed to do?” He drops his gaze again. “—sir.”
“No, you did what any of us would do. You just shouldn’t have been in that situation to begin with, but I’m guessing you already know that.” Garrett takes one of the last donuts and puts half of it in his mouth.
“And the money?” Trey asks.
Bo shakes his head. “They took the car and the money—if they ever had any.”
“So you’re still in trouble, then.” He directs this at me, and I straighten and nod. I’m not often out of my element, and when I am, I’m damn good at bluffing, but these guys intimidate me. I think it’s knowing they aren’t human. Not being clear on the code they live by.
Trey toys with the piercing in his lip. “There’s a fight at two,” he muses.
I have no idea what that means, but the rest of the guys in the room whip their heads around to stare at him.
“No way,” Jared says. “You can’t put a high school baller in a fight. Coach Jamison will come down here and put our asses in a sling if the alpha doesn’t first.”
“How old are you?” Trey asks Bo, ignoring Jared.
“Eighteen.”
Trey shrugs. “He’s an adult. He can make his own decisions.” To Bo, he says, “You want to fight? If you win, it’ll pay at least ten thousand, maybe more, depending on how the bets go.”
“You think he can win?” Garrett asks doubtfully.
“It’s actually because he’s not full-sized yet, I think he can beat this guy. He’s still fast. Light on his feet.” He turns to Bo. “I have an asshole cat shifter who wants to fight. Bets will be on him because of your age and size.”
“Then you take the fucker down,” Jared tells Bo.
“Done.” Bo rolls his shoulders, looking every inch the badass.
“I-I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t want you risking yourself for—”
Bo holds up his hand. “It’s not a risk.” He lifts his shirt to show me the place he got shot last night. It’s completely healed. Hardly even a mark now.
I shake my head. “I still don’t like it.”