Moreland puffed on his cigar and let the smoke roll around in his mouth before releasing it in a thick cloud. “Yours is not a face easily forgotten.”
“That’s what women have told me,” Tak replied with a chuckle. “How long does it take you to do your hair that way?”
Moreland touched his braids. “I don’t have to style it every day like you do.”
“Must be a bitch on shifting days,” he said, admiring the tight rows that crossed over the back of Moreland’s head. Seemed like a lot of maintenance.
A smile hovered on Moreland’s lips. “I only shift when I have to. Never seen a black Shifter with long hair?”
Tak drummed his fingers on the table. “Give me a call the next time you shift. I want to see that shit flying free.”
They both laughed hard and eased back in their seats.
Tak had spent most of the morning walking around. He visited the shops, spoke with the owners, and found a bakery called Sweet Treats where all the food was fresh and made from scratch. Interracial couples passed him on the street, their hands clasped in public displays of affection. People here were more open-minded than those in his hometown, which was populated by old-fashioned Shifters who were still living in the 1800s.
He stumbled upon a theater that only cost a couple of bucks and watched a science fiction movie about aliens attacking the world. Tak kept gazing at the empty chair beside him, wishing he could hear Hope’s opinion of the plot, which he found implausible.
The music on the jukebox changed to something bluesy. Tak liked the atmosphere in Howlers compared to the bars in his off-the-map town. They played classic rock instead of country, and people were friendly. It was also nice not having to separate himself from other Shifters. Tak spent so much of his time around members of his own tribe that he sometimes forgot how good it was to talk with strangers and hear their stories. Howlers had a long bar with a low partition wall sectioning off the pool tables and seating area.
It wasn’t too busy, and he scanned the room, relieved that Wheeler wasn’t there. Even though Wheeler was a tool, Tak appreciated his looking out for Hope. It didn’t mean he wanted to have another confrontation with the man, but it was reassuring to know that a lot of men in this town respected Hope.
“Where are you from?” Moreland asked.
Tak folded his arms on the table. “Oklahoma. Tribal land.”
“That’s far off, and I don’t mean by miles. I’ve been out that way before,” he said, assessing Tak more closely. “What brings an alpha all the way down to Austin?”
“Personal matters I need to put to rest with an old friend.” Tak leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Do you know a wolf named River?”
Moreland watched the tendril of smoke rising from the end of his stogie. “There’s only one man around here that goes by that name, and he’s not welcome in our pack anymore.”
Tak’s pulse accelerated at the realization that Moreland was Hope’s former packmate. Without knowing how frequently city packs kicked out wolves for misconduct or other reasons, he kept his cool and didn’t look overly interested. “Why’s that?”
Moreland’s gaze traveled upward. “Let’s just say he stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. Men who think they can keep secrets in a pack are fools.”
“Did he betray the Packmaster?”
Moreland flagged down a waitress, who gave him a brisk nod before hurrying back to the bar. “Indirectly. What business do you have with River? Because if you’re a friend of his, you can get up right now and find another place to sit.”
Tak pressed his finger on the table. “That wolf is no friend of mine. I think he offended the woman I was with yesterday.”
Moreland looked up and puffed on his stogie. “NowthatI believe.”
“I don’t know the ways of city packs, but I’m trying to learn. What do you know of my people?”
Moreland nodded. “I knew someone from your tribe a long time ago. He came from another region out of Arkansas, but they were Iwa.”
“Then you understand our word is our bond. I know I’m asking private questions about your pack, but whatever you tell me stays between us. It angers me the way he spoke disrespectfully to my friend, and I want to know what makes him so offensive toward women.”
The man set his cigar down and laced his fingers together. “Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.”
“What does that mean?”
Moreland smirked. “Secrets never stay buried as long as the people who keep them are alive. But sometimes… sometimes it’s better to shine light on the truth. When you let speculation run wild, you do no service to the victims involved. I’ll hold you to your word, Tak of the Iwa tribe, only because I know your people and the value they put on a man’s good name. River seduced an important woman in the tribe, a young wolf who was still deciding whether to become independent or join another pack. He besmirched her reputation.”
Tak’s breath caught. Hearing the story from another party confirmed what must have been Hope’s worst fear: that others knew. Quelling his rage, he exhaled and relaxed his shoulders. “And what did the Packmaster do?”
“Lorenzo wanted to end the guy’s life, and you don’t want to know what that man does with the pelt of his enemies. Enzo’s a good leader, but he’s not a man you cross. Killing River would have struck fear in the pack and forced him to reveal the truth. But he wanted to protect the woman’s reputation, so he allowed River to live under the condition that he leave the pack and never speak ill of them. If that repugnant excuse for a wolf were to ever set foot in this bar, I might lock him in a safe and bury it in the woods.”
