Gerard walked away with a snicker.
Fanning herself with a coaster, Elle said, “It’s busy tonight, even for a Saturday.”
Bree nodded. It was loud and hectic. People talked, ate, laughed, and yelled at the TVs. Slot machines bleeped and pinged. Darts whizzed through the air and thumped into boards. Balls smacked into others, sending them shuttling into the pool table pockets.
Most of the patrons were members of her pride. Many were seated at the heavy tables or booths, their eyes locked on the wall-mounted TVs. Meanwhile, waitresses weaved their way around the tables, taking orders and collecting deserted bottles, dirty dishware, empty glasses, and crumpled napkins.
“Uh-oh,” sang Elle. “Moira just arrived.”
Shit. Bree’s cat uncurled from her ball and bared a fang. “How fun.” Her feline hated Moira since the little bitch shot Bree a look of utter contempt pretty much every chance she got—and true to form, she did it right then, too. Bree smiled in return. The other female lifted her chin and headed to a table at the opposite side of the Tavern.
“So … have you acknowledged his presence yet?”
Bree sipped her Cosmo. “If by ‘he’ you mean Mateo, no. It would only encourage him to come over here, and that would end badly for him.” He’d been playing pool with Alex, Vinnie, and some of their other pride mates for the past few hours. “Besides, I’ve been busy shooting Alex the occasional death glare. Cockblocking motherfucker.”
He’d been good to her last night after she’d helped Devlin. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had checked on her after a tough omega encounter. Couldn’t remember anyone ever fussing over her or massaging her head until she fell asleep. So she’d been feeling all warm and fuzzy about it … right up until earlier when he scared off a guy who’d sent her a drink. Now yeah, okay, the guy had a reputation of being something of a player, but that didn’t give Alex the right to interfere.
If she didn’t detest scenes so much, she’d have stalked over there and punched the wolverine square in the face. Instead, she’d settled for spitting in his food as she passed his table to use the restroom, making sure he saw it. Far from ladylike, sure, but wolverines loved their food—targeting it was a surefire way to piss them off. His glower would have quelled a lesser female.
Bree glanced his way just as he slapped cash down on the green felt of the pool table. A wad of crash. Alex always seemed to have money. He gambled like it was his job, and he was exceptionally good at it.
Elle scowled at his back. “I love my cousin but damn he can be an asshole. I think it’s safe to say you’re not gonna get laid by anyone here tonight. Ooh, we could leave and hit Enigma,” she suggested, referring to a nightclub exclusive to shifters where patrons often had sex right on the dance floor. “I love it there. You up for it? I feel a night of getting supremely shitfaced coming on.”
“Is that such a good idea? Last time we got that shitfaced I woke up with pierced nipples.”
“You can’t deny that you like those piercings.”
No, she couldn’t. They’d hurt like a bitch at first, though.
Bree’s eyes inadvertently darted to Alex again, as if drawn there. Her gut knotted. He was leaning against the wall, a pool cue in hand, talking with one of his group. And his unblinking stare was fixed on her.
Well, if he thought she’d blush or avert her gaze, he was out of his mind. She flicked up her eyebrow, sent him a haughty look, and then turned back to Elle.
A celebratory roar came from the patrons who were watching the game. Bree gave the space another once-over, always alert for signs of trouble, since it wasn’t uncommon for fights to break out among shifters. And what was when she noticed … “Moira’s heading our way.”
“Ugh, how fabulous,” muttered Elle, her grip tightening on her glass. And Bree knew the redhead would smash it over Moira’s head if the situation got ugly. The female might be Elle’s cousin, but Elle had never liked or respected her.
Bree’s cat peeled back her upper lip at the newcomer and swished her tail. Nope, she wasn’t a fan of this bitch.
Reaching the bar, Moira grinned at Gerard. “A mojito please, sweetie.” Her eyes slid to Bree and went hard as glass. “Well, you certainly succeeded in breaking my mother’s heart, if that was what you were hoping for.”
Bree inwardly sighed. She’d figured the conversation might head in this direction. “Moira, while I love to hear your whiny little opinions, you should know that the level of fuck I’m giving couldn’t possibly be any lower.”
“You know what? I think you just don’t want Gerard to hear how you’re betraying my brother.” Moira turned to the bartender. “Oh, she told my mother that she’s so sure Paxton isn’t coming back that she’s decided to build a life without him. She doesn’t seem to care how he’ll feel when he comes home and finds her shacked up with someone else—that is what I’m assuming you eventually intend to do, Bree.”
“It’s that or grow old alone,” said Bree, wondering if maybe Moira knew that Bernadette had posted the necklace. Possibly. “I’d prefer to not do the latter. And I won’t let you or your family make me feel guilty for that. I deserve to be happy, the same as everyone else.”
Moira’s face reddened. “No, you don’t. It’s your fault that Paxton’s the way he is. It’s only fitting that you pay for it by being alone and miserable.”
Bree let her gaze briefly flick upward. Heaven help me. “This again, Moira? Really?”
The bitch moved toward her, but her head abruptly snapped to the side when a male hand curled around her upper arm. Alex.
“Back off,” he warned Moira, all menace and danger.
The female swallowed. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Wrong,” Alex bit out. “Bree’s my business. You fuck with her, you deal with me. Simple.”
“All right,” drawled Vinnie, slowly approaching. “Let’s all stay calm. You know how much Gerard hates having to clean up blood.”
Moira rubbed the arm Alex released. “Don’t any of you even care what she’s doing?”
“And what exactly am I doing that’s so terrible?” Bree questioned.
“Rejecting my brother’s claim on you!” Moira spat.
Conscious that the noise level in the bar was fast dying down, Bree lifted one shoulder. “I doubt he’d care, even if he was alive.”
Moira froze, staring at her curiously. “You really do think he’s dead, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter if he is or he isn’t.” replied Bree. “Either way, he won’t come back here.”
“Oh, it matters,” insisted Moira. “Because I can tell you one thing, Bree. My brother was always awful at sharing, even as a toddler. He may not intend to claim you, but he’ll never let anyone else have you.”
Alex guided the female away from the bar. “Okay, you’re done.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Elle, slipping off her stool.
“You hear me, Bree?” Moira shouted even as Alex and Elle herded her toward the exit. “If you get involved with anyone else, you’ll be signing their death warrant! Paxton will have eyes on you! He’ll know—” Her words cut off as the door closed behind the trio.