Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Shaking his head, he took a seat behind his desk.
“Why haven’t you taken the petition down?” Havana asked him from the chair directly opposite him.
Corbin cast a quick glance at Bailey. “She asked me not to.”
Well, of course she had. “It’s wise to know who your enemies are.”
Havana inclined her head, allowing that.
“I thought you three would have left by now—your shift is over.” Corbin rested his clasped hands on the surface of the table, his gaze cautious as it settled on Bailey. “I’m guessing you want to talk about Ginny’s recent allegation. You should be aware that she’s made several calls to the staff here—me included—swearing you’re responsible for the attack on Jackson.”
“Unbelievable,” muttered Aspen, stood beside Havana’s chair. “Do any of the staff believe that Ginny’s right?”
He snorted. “No. They know full well that Bailey isn’t a person who’ll hide her crimes. As one of the staff said … ‘Bailey won’t stab a person—metaphorical or otherwise—in the back; she’ll aim right for their fucking eye.’”
Smiling, Bailey put a hand to her chest. “Aw, that’s sweet. Also accurate.” She’d actually gone for someone’s eye a time or two. There was nothing quite like feeling an eyeball pop. “That’s not why I’m here, though.”
Corbin’s brow inched up. “Oh?”
She crossed to his desk and set down the pen she’d used to doodle her name on the petition. “My cousin made a reappearance. The one who keeps dying.”
The grizzly’s mouth tightened. “What did the little bastard want this time?”
“Protection,” replied Bailey, moving to stand near Havana. “He owes the Westwood jackals a shit ton of cash.”
Corbin’s brows flew together. “Jackals? You shitting me?”
“Nu-uh.”
The grizzly shook his head again, grim. “I should be surprised, but he isn’t the brightest bulb. What’s truly surprising is that he’s lived this long.”
“I had the same thought,” muttered Aspen.
“I’m guessing you all sent Roman on his way,” he hedged.
“Good guess,” said Bailey. “The jackals will probably want to talk to me at some point—they’ll hardly overlook his debt; they’ll try to hunt him down. Much as it pisses me off, it’s possible that they’ll come looking for me here, so I wanted to give you a heads-up. Actually, there’s a chance Roman might show here too. It would be wiser for him to go to ground, but he could think he can convince me to change my mind.”
“If that little shit stain comes here, he’ll wish he hadn’t.” Corbin cricked his neck. “That nest of his is a joke.”
Totally. Even thinking of the Umber Nest made her snake want to bite someone. Anyone would do, really.
The way Bailey saw it, she’d been better off with Corbin than growing up with that bunch of selfish assholes. That didn’t make her anger at the choices they’d made years ago any less potent, though. Nor did it make much of a difference to her mamba.
Havana twisted her mouth. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry that the jackals will do anything stupid. They’re not going to struggle to believe she turned Roman away, because when they look into his relatives and learn of her existence, they’ll also learn that the Umber Nest fucked her over. The jackals will see that she has no motivation to help anyone from the nest.”
Aspen nodded. “And even if they aren’t willing to dismiss that she’s aiding Roman, I don’t see them attacking her or anything. Their pack might be tough, but Roman was right about one thing—they won’t want trouble with a pride mostly made up of pallas cats.”
“Still,” began Corbin, “be ready for trouble all the same. The Westwood Pack have a bad reputation, and jackals don’t always do what you’d expect.”
“Yeah, that species can be pretty unpredictable.” Bailey grinned, adding, “Like me.”
“Should you really be so proud of that?” Corbin questioned. “I’m thinking no.”
“I’m thinking yes.”
He playfully scoffed. “Of course you are.” He straightened in his seat. “Hopefully, the entire situation blows over very soon. Be sure to keep me updated.”
Bailey saluted him. “Will do, Paddington.”
He shot her a look of mock annoyance. “Paddington Bear is not a grizzly.”
“So?”
“So there’s no sense in—You know what, forget it. I’ve come to accept that the concept of logic will always escape you.”
Bailey grinned again. “Took your sweet time.”
Snorting, Havana stood. “Come on, let’s go.”
Outside, Bailey and her girls headed straight for the car she’d been assigned by the pride. Like all the other pride-owned vehicles, it boasted bulletproof windows.
As they decided to drop by the pride’s bakery, she didn’t drive Havana straight home as she usually did. Instead, Bailey parked her car in the lot outside her apartment building and then walked with Aspen and Havana to the bakery.
As they entered, the scents of coffee, yeasty dough, spices, and fresh bread washed over Bailey. She inhaled it all, loving it. Her snake wasn’t as equal a fan, finding no such things appetizing.