Not the ‘yes’ I was hoping for, but not a ‘no’ either. Hope flares inside me.
“Please,” I say, unable to keep the desperation from my voice.
He studies me for a long moment, something flickering in his dark eyes. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he says finally. “We’ll talk about it then.”
With that vague statement, he gathers the first aid supplies and leaves; the door closing firmly behind him without a backward glance.
I sink on the cot, trembling with equal parts hope and fear.
Will he help me? Can I trust him?
The mate bond urges me to believe in him, but experience has taught me not to trust anyone. Especially not a bear. Especially not Leon Lennox’s son.
But as night falls, and the basement grows colder, I find myself unable to stop thinking of Billy’s gentle hands. His quiet voice. The way he looked at me, as if seeing something no one else does. Past the dirty clothes and the tangled hair.
My mate. The man I may have to leave behind to save my life.
CHAPTER 3
BILLY
The bar is packed tonight, bears from the clan occupying every table, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the stench of spilled beer. I wipe down the counter mechanically, my thoughts still in that basement, still with her.
Carla. The wolf my father is holding as leverage against her pack, just in case he has any slip ups in his plan for the conference.
My bear growls, and a patron at the far end of the bar narrows his eyes at me. I wave him away, letting him know it’s not him I’m pissed off with, and I let out a long sigh.
Something about her got under my skin from the first moment I saw her three weeks ago. It’s not just that she’s beautiful, all fierce eyes and defiant chin despite her circumstances. It’s something else, something I can’t put my finger on.
And seeing her locked up down there, torture for any shifter, is tearing me apart.
My bear stirs restlessly beneath my skin. Normally, he’s content to slumber unless there’s a threat or a fight brewing.We’ve learned how to keep a low profile and stay out of trouble, as much as any Lennox can. But lately, every time I get near Carla, he’s alert, attentive in a way I’ve never experienced. For her, he’s willing to go against Leon.
And that’s dangerous for everyone involved, including Carla.
“Another round for the boys,” Dave shouts from his table, slamming down empty glasses.
They might work for my dad, but he insists they pay their way. That he takes most of their wages back across the bar isn’t lost on me. Much like me, they’re trapped here by circumstance, criminal records, and not knowing any other way to live.
I pour drinks, pass them out, and collect money. All the while, half my mind is calculating how many men will have been left behind. He’s been planning this attack for weeks. And keeping most of the details to himself.
It’s the perfect distraction, maybe the only chance I get. If I can make use of it, that is.
Marcus tried to warn me at our last meeting. “Get out, Billy,” he said, his sheriff’s badge glinting in the sunlight. “You know this life isn’t for you, and Dad’s getting worse. He’ll drag you down with him if you let him.”
Easy for him to say. He got out young, before the clan life could mark him. Before our father could drag him into the dirt.
Me? I’ve got a record. Assault. Breaking and entering. Nothing that would put me away for good, but enough that no respectable pack or employer would want me. Or woman.
Carla’s father was the pack beta in Grey Ridge. She’s from a high-ranking family. My brother might have been accepted into the pack, but he’s a sheriff. Not some low-life bartender with a black mark against his name and a father who likes to keep him under this thumb.
I’m not sure why I’m suddenly wondering what Carla’s family and pack would think of me, whether they’d accept me, but it’snot making me feel good about myself. When you’re not even good enough for the prisoner locked in your father’s basement, that’s a pretty depressing assessment of your life.
And yet, I want to go back and spend more time with her. I can’t work out what’s going on with me. Maybe Marcus is right. Maybe this isn’t the life for me. I’ve never had the cruel streak my father wishes I did.
“Billy.” The sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. Leon stands at the end of the bar, motioning me over, impatience clear in his agitated expression.
My shoulders tense as I approach. Leon Lennox is still a formidable figure, mean and unpredictable. It’s never a good idea to let your guard down in his presence.
