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)
But no way was he going to hang back while another male was so aggressively invading her personal space. So Deke kept striding over there, his back teeth locked. All the while, his cat moodily prowled beneath his skin as he snarled at the spectacle up ahead of them.
Deke could only assume that Camden had felt his mate’s anger, because the tiger shifter appeared at Aspen’s side just as Deke approached the group with the Devereaux brothers close behind. The noise level in the Tavern was so loud that it wasn’t until he neared them that Deke could hear any of what was being said.
“You didn’t go to my funeral,” the stranger complained, leaning toward Bailey. “Or the one before that.”
“I went to your first funeral,” Bailey told him. “Though that was because I thought there was a ninety percent chance you were actually dead.”
“You didn’t even cry,” griped the male.
Her face scrunched up. “What was there to cry about?”
Reaching them, Deke slid a hand between their bodies to plant a hand on the guy’s chest. “Move back.”
Dark eyes so very like Bailey’s slammed on Deke. “What?”
“I don’t like how close you are to her. Move. Back.” Deke lowered his hand when the male did just that. “Now maybe you can tell me who the hell you are.”
“Name’s Roman,” he replied, glancing around and taking in the number of people crowding him—a number that increased by two when Tate’s guards, Isaiah and Farrell, joined them. “I’m her cousin, so you can relax—I ain’t gonna hurt her.”
Deke blinked. Cousin? His cat faltered, just as surprised. Loners generally had no contact with family members, and Bailey had been a loner for most of her life. Or so Deke had assumed—he wasn’t entirely sure.
Bailey didn’t volunteer much personal information about herself. And he’d made a point of not digging for any, not wanting to feed his curiosity about her.
Deke was just about to ask if Roman was a lone shifter when Havana took an aggressive step forward, sidling up to Bailey protectively.
“You have some balls coming here,” the Alpha female all but growled, glaring at Roman. “Big, giant, hairy ones. Because I know I told you to stay away from Bailey.”
It wasn’t surprising that Roman tensed—devil shifters were renowned for having explosive tempers. “I got a situation,” he defended.
Aspen huffed, her face dark with anger. “You always do. If it isn’t cash you want, it’s a place to lie low or a bullshit alibi.”
He pointed at Bailey. “And she turns me away every time.” It was a genuine whine.
“Yet, you keep coming back,” Camden bit out. “Explain.”
Blair lifted a hand. “I’m sorry to cut in, but I have to know why someone would have one funeral, let alone multiple, when they’re not actually dead.”
Deke had been asking himself that very same question.
Havana cast her a humorless smile. “Well, Roman here has a habit of pissing off the wrong humans. So he fakes his death, waits for the heat to cool, and then crawls back out of his hidey hole.”
What a goddamn tool.
“What is it you want?” Bailey asked her cousin, setting her hands on her slim hips. “Just spit it out so I can say no and you can leave.”
Roman gave her a pleading look. “Bay, I need your help. These people … they don’t show mercy.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What people?”
Shifting nervously, Roman rubbed at the side of his neck. “Ugh … the Westwood Pack. I kind of owe their Alpha money.”
Bailey felt her lips part in complete shock. “You dumb motherfucker.”
A lover of casinos, Roman wasn’t a stranger to borrowing massive amounts of money. Generally, he lost as many bets as he won. And since he quickly squandered his winnings on more bets, he often found himself in debt to the wrong humans. But he generally didn’t borrow cash from shifters. And borrowing money from the Westwood Pack? Epic mistake.
Deke frowned at him. “Jackals? You screwed over jackals? Seriously?”
She understood his disbelief. Most breeds of shifter tended to steer clear of jackals—their kind had a tendency toward cruelty and maliciousness. They would stab you in the back without hesitation, even if you were one of their own.
Roman ignored Deke, focused on Bailey. “I need somewhere to stay. Somewhere they won’t come looking for me.”
“They’ll question every living relative you have, me included,” she pointed out, her voice icily calm. “You know that.” Hence why her snake was furious—he’d effectively brought danger to her doorstep, and he clearly didn’t care. “You came to me because you think they won’t tangle with a pallas cat pride.” Asshole.
Roman lifted his shoulders. “Well, they won’t.”
“Wrong,” Deke stated. “They’ll do whatever they have to do to get back what they’re owed.”
Her thoughts exactly. Jackals did not let such things go.
“You have a nest,” Camden said to Roman, a bite to his voice—the tiger wasn’t a fan of her family, much like most people. “Why not ask them for help?”