He’d never liked the way shifters operated—so much secrecy, so much deference to their alpha—but maybe that was the problem. Maybe not liking it had made it easier to overlook how dark things had gotten. Or maybe things had always been that way, and he’d never looked too closely.
Still, he couldn’t quite let go of the thought that in that first bar, the noisy one packed with college kids and trashy cocktails, no one would blink at the idea of dancing beside a shifter. Maybe the next generation would fix what the last had broken. Maybe they were already trying.
That didn’t make what he’d heard tonight any less vile.
Chapter Nine
RILEY
Riley pushed open the door to the diner and was met by an evaluating and not terribly friendly stare from the owner, Sam. She showed him to a table, where she set down an iced water and a menu, and somehow he still felt like a suspect in a lineup.
The diner was busy, though at least he’d been spared martini time today. There was no sign of Jason. Which was fine. It was just sex, after all, and it wouldn’t kill him to go without for a few days. Except, he was discovering that he wanted Jason in a way he hadn’t wanted anyone in a long time.
The hum of multiple conversations, the clashing of plates, and the occasional hiss of steam from the coffee machine meant he almost missed the conversation beside him. Almost.
“The Daily Sentinel’sa reactionary rag that wants us all living in the past.”
Riley jerked his head around at the sound of his paper’s name, then tried to make it look like a smooth glance to check out thespecials board. He didn’t think it was too convincing, but thankfully, no one was paying attention to him.
“Doesn’t mean it isn’t right about some things.” The response was an older voice, sounding gruff.
Cautiously, Riley observed the people at the table next to him. A white-haired guy who looked well into his seventies was sitting with a teenage girl, who was currently waving a fork around with a fry stuck on the end of it like a conductor’s baton.
“Look at that story they ran about the Portland pack, how they were dangerous,” she said. “It was just one guy who hit one person in self-defense.Self-defense, Grandpa, but they made it sound like he was about to murder every human in town. You shouldn’t give that rag your money.”
The older guy harrumphed. “Well, they have good articles about investments.”
“I know they do, but they’re also constantly stirring up everyone against shifters.”
Riley frowned. That wasn’t what the paper did. Sure, they ran a lot of shifter stories, but they weren’t anti-shifter. They were just making sure that a balanced story was told. At least, he’d thought so.
But the way she said it,stirring people up…
Before he could chase that thought further, she was speaking again. “Look, why don’t I set you up with some sites that give you that sort of advice for free?”
“Laura, honey, I’m not completely decrepit. I do know what the internet is.”
Laura had the grace to look guilty. “Sorry.” She stabbed another fry in ketchup. “All I meant was that Joey hooked me up with some good sites when he was interning for that broker. Hey, did you hear about him breaking up with Taylor again?”
Riley’s interest in their conversation evaporated. He just hoped there weren’t more people out there who thought like Laura because if the readership of the paper dwindled much further, he’d be out of a job for a different reason.
And yet, he couldn’t shake what she’d said. Would his father thinkThe Daily Sentinelwas a rag? Not reactionary, obviously—that described his father to a T. But would he see Riley’s work as beneath him?
Riley had spent so many years trying to prove himself, and nothing he’d done had ever worked. He was too short to be a successful model, not good enough to make it as an actor, and his band had lasted three months on the club circuit before he was kicked out in favor of a “better singer.” But if he broke a story this huge, had real journalists quoting his work… If he landed on every news channel in the country, his father wouldn’t be able to ignore him anymore.
Riley was lost in thoughts of how that would feel when a shadow fell across his table.
“Ready to order?”
He jumped, heart thumping harder than it should have done, and found Sam standing right beside him. Close enough that it was either flirting or intimidation. Judging by her face, flirting wasdefinitelyoff the menu. Well, what the hell had he done wrong this time?
She jotted down his order, then paused with her pen still in her hand. “How long are you in town for?” There was something almost hostile about the way she asked.
Riley had no idea what lay behind her question, but he was determined not to alienate anyone in the town—he never knew who might be willing to spill some gossip.
“At least a week, but more likely two,” he said smoothly.
Or hopefully longer, if Amy let him, because as well as the whole Jason thing, Riley was beginning to think that two weeks to uncover the dark secret of Elk Ridge’s pack might be optimistic. His research that morning hadn’t turned up much, just the ranch’s deeds, confirming that Urban split the land and house sixty-forty with Bryce Reynolds. Riley figured he’d take a hike out that way with some high-powered binoculars. Purely for tourism research, of course. If he happened to spot an Argent, that would be entirely accidental.
