“Did you explain to Mr Moreton that the McKillan pack is offering an excellent opportunity and is the only one he should be considering.”
“I did.” Logan sighed, knowing where this was going.
“Well, either you did a piss-poor job of explaining, or Mr Moreton here is a flight risk that you failed to report.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The last thing they needed right now was Paul’s team looking over their shoulders every five seconds. Swallowing the “fuck you” on his tongue, Logan met Paul’s gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “It’s my fault. I obviously wasn’t clear enough when I explained about pack affiliation. But now you’ve brought everything to light, I’m sure Cole has a better understanding of what’s expected of him.” He turned to Cole. “Don’t you?”
“Yes.” Cole’s eyes were wide, gaze flicking between Logan and Paul. “Absolutely.”
Grovelling to Paul left a nasty taste in his mouth, but Logan had no choice. “Thank you for stepping in. I’ll make sure Mr Moreton understands everything perfectly from now on.”
Paul studied him for a couple of seconds, looking for something, but Logan kept his expression blank. Finally he stood, pushing back his chair with a screech. “Make sure that you do. We’re all looking forward to having Cole join our team.” The way he said Cole’s name rubbed Logan the wrong way, and it was all he could do not to react.
Paul signalled for his men to follow him, but as he walked past Logan, he leant down to whisper. “You know I’ll have to report this to Jacob.”
“Of course.” Good fucking luck with that. Jacob could handle Paul well enough, had done on more than one occasion.
The kitchen was silent as the three of them filed out and into the hall. As soon as the front door clicked shut, Cole went to speak, but Logan shook his head. “Wait,” he mouthed, motioning to his mum and dad that Paul was listening outside.
Cole’s mum took the hint, bless her, and stood up. “Would anyone like a cup of tea?”
Everyone answered with a “Yes, please.”
“Maybe with a shot of whisky,” she muttered as she filled the kettle.
An excellent idea. All three of them were as white as sheets.
Logan pushed back his chair. “Where do you keep it?” he asked.
“Hmm?” Cole’s mum frowned.
“The whisky?”
“Oh.” She blushed. “I keep forgetting how well you can hear.” She pointed towards the living room. “In the bottom of the cabinet.”
Logan left to retrieve it, pouring them all a shot when he got back. The alcohol would have little effect on him, but the initial burn wouldn’t go amiss right now. Straining to hear Paul’s retreat, he followed their progress down the street to their waiting car, gave them another minute, then leant against the counter, gaze homing in on Cole. “Why the hell would you approach another pack after everything we talked about?”
Cole shook his head. “I didn’t, I swear.”
“Then what was Paul going on about? He looked pretty sure of himself from where I was sitting. And I didn’t see you objecting.”
“There were three of them, and they had guns,” he spat. “Would you have objected?”
Well, yes. But Logan would also heal from whatever Paul threw at him. “No, I guess not. Sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly remembering the other two people in the kitchen. “Is everyone okay? Did they hurt you, threaten you?” Paul was too much of a stickler for the rules to have physically hurt them, but he had to ask.
Cole’s dad shook his head. “They didn’t physically hurt us, no. But I’m pretty sure I’ve lost a few years off my life after that visit.” He put his arm around Cole’s mum and pulled her in for a hug.
“Did they threaten you?” Logan directed his question to Cole.
Cole blew out a breath, and Logan noticed the slight tremor in his hand as he ran it through his hair.
“Cole?” he prompted, voice gentle.
“Kind of, I think. It was sort of veiled, but I got the impression they weren’t messing around.”
“What did Paul say, exactly?”
