Chapter One



"Here we go." Lottie set the silver tea service on the table with a clink and beamed at her guests. "Oh, I forgot to ask if you'd prefer coffee, Jack."

The alpha smiled and rubbed a hand through his tousled hair. "Coffee would be great, Lottie."

Ginny eyed the tray with a delicately arched brow. "Booze is perfectly appropriate to serve after dinner too, you know."

Lottie tried not to snort as she straightened and headed back for the kitchen. "Coffee and whiskey, coming up."

She rattled the percolator on the stove, deliberately making more noise than necessary. The house was too quiet, had been since Hazel had moved out, and Lottie found herself trying to fill the silence. She called out into the parlor, "Have either of you seen Hazel and Oliver yet?"

The sound of Jack's snort drifted into the kitchen. "I stopped by for about five minutes. Longest five minutes of my life."

Ginny just laughed. "Turns out, my fiance only likes overt displays of affection when they involve his hands and my ass."

Lottie drifted back to the open doorway as the coffee began to brew. "She's young and in love."

"Mm-hmm. Oliver's got the love part down, but he's no spring chicken." Ginny grinned. "If Hazel's not careful, she's going to kill him."

"He seems in fine shape to me." Lottie wove her hands together and watched as Ginny reached for Jack's hand and twined their fingers together. She didn't even seem to be aware she'd done it. "I'll wait a week or so longer before I go calling, though. Just to be on the safe side."

Her friend flashed her a pointed look. "And what about you? I noticed Thomas has been stopping by a lot lately, and he asks me about you all the time."

"Ginny." Jack sounded exasperated. "I told you to keep your nose out of it."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "I just want to know when she's going to put the poor man out of his misery, that's all. It isn't right."

Lottie's back stiffened, and her easy smile almost faltered. She knew from experience that neither of them would notice her small slip of control. "Thomas Crawford is a very nice man," she said carefully.

"Nice." Ginny blew out a breath. "Most people consider that a plus, Lottie."

"It is, I'm sure."

"So how come, when you say it, you make it sound like he has the plague?"

Lottie stifled a disgusted noise and turned back to the kitchen. The image of Thomas' face, smiling and thoughtful, rose in her mind. She pushed it away as she checked the coffee. Thomas might have been carefully, persistently courting her, but he had yet to indicate anything beyond a polite interest. And she'd rather be alone than married to a man only politely interested in her.

Ginny had followed her and was standing in the doorway, so Lottie lied. "I'm not looking to marry right now, that's all." She'd never planned on coming to Greenbriar to open a business, much less a brothel, but there'd been a need and it had seemed smart to fill it… and make a bundle of money in the process. So what if that had left her no time to fulfill her original goal -- to find someone to love?

Ginny wore a dark look on her face. "You're lying. You'd be happier than a frog in a puddle, and you know it."

Lottie accidentally brushed her hand against the hot metal of the percolator and drew it back with a hiss. She watched as the reddened patch of skin slowly disappeared. "Doesn't mean I'm going to marry the first man to ask me. Which Thomas hasn't done, by the way."

"He's far from the first man to ask," Ginny countered. "And he'd probably get around to asking if you seemed the slightest bit inclined to accept."

"Virginia. " She paused and took a deep breath. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"You're lonely. "

"I'm --" Lottie's voice broke, and she cleared her throat. "I'm fine, Ginny, but thank you for your concern." She pulled another china pot from a cabinet and filled it with the fragrant, steaming coffee. "You know where the whiskey decanter is. Help yourself, and let's visit and talk about something else."

The scuff of boots across the floor was the only warning before Jack appeared at Ginny's shoulder. "I wasn't trying to listen, Lottie, but you know I could hear everything. Can I just say one thing? And then we'll both keep out of it."

As if he could make that promise for stubborn-ass Ginny Howard. She kept her voice steady as she replied. "Of course, Jack. You're always welcome to be frank with me, you know that."

Jack smiled. "Thomas has to act nice and restrained, because the humans have to feel safe dealing with him. That's his job as my second. But there's a lot more to him than most people see, and he's got it bad for you. You don't have to give him a chance, but at least let him know he doesn't have one."

His words kindled a thread of hope in Lottie. She and Thomas got on well enough, and she'd enjoyed the scant amount of time she'd spent alone with him. The only thing that had been missing between them was the fire. The passion. "I'll bear that in mind, Jack."

"Good." Jack's hand curled around the back of Ginny's shoulder in a possessive gesture. "And we're going to stay out of it, aren't we, sweetheart?"

Ginny's mouth twisted into a dissatisfied pout, but she nodded. "You're right, Lottie. Let's talk about something else."

Lottie used a quilted potholder to lift the coffee pot. "Thank you, Ginny. I'm dying to know if you've made any of your own wedding arrangements yet."

The taller woman blushed, and Lottie knew Ginny had been adequately distracted from meddling in affairs between herself and Thomas. She stifled a sigh of relief and followed the couple back into the parlor. The less she had to think about what she'd do or say when Thomas did get around to proposing, the better.

***

It was too late for a social call, so the pounding on the front door could mean nothing good. Thomas' suspicions were confirmed when a tense voice called out, "Open up, Crawford! We've got a grievance."

When Jack had lived in this house, werewolves had approached with respect and humans not at all. No one felt the same awe for Thomas, though, that they afforded the alpha. Sighing, Thomas set aside his book and resolved himself to another evening spent soothing angry werewolves who thought that permission to run in the woods behind the house meant permission to intrude at all hours instead of waiting for him to be in his office in town.

Tonight's angry visitors proved to be a trio of businessmen. It took him several moments to make the connection between them, but it clicked into place in his head as he rested his hand on the edge of the door. Between them, the three men owned two brothels in town. The only proprietor of liquor and ladies not present and accounted for was Charlotte Daniel.

This is going nowhere good.

The tallest man cleared his throat. "We're having what you could call a business problem, Crawford, and we'd like for Jack to check it out."

It didn't take a genius to guess what their problem would be, but Thomas had a job to do -- one that involved listening to even the most absurd complaints. He pulled the door open and stepped back, gesturing for the men to step inside. "It's late, but I have a few minutes if you'd like to talk."

The second man thanked him and fidgeted with his hat. "It's about Miss Lottie over at the Full Moon. She's bribing all the best girls to come over and work for her. Plus, she's brazen about them servicing humans."

Translation: she's making more money than we are. Thomas kept his expression serene even in the face of the irrational protective anger that rose inside him. "Do you have any evidence she's bribing anyone?" he asked, tackling the easier question first.

"Just one girl. Said Miss Lottie had offered her something I hadn't." His eyes darkened. "I asked her how much, but she wouldn't say."

Probably security. Jack made sure all of the girls in town were safe -- the one man who'd tried to open a brothel where the women weren't protected had ended up in pieces -- but safe didn't always equal content.

Before Thomas could reply, the third man, who had remained silent so far, spoke up. "Nobody really gives a damn about the bribes. It's low, but it ain't against the law. The humans, that's the real problem."

Of course it was, because it involved female werewolves letting human men into their beds. Not a one of them got up in arms when male wolves found a sweet young human to romance. Hypocrites. "Far as I can recall, gentlemen, there aren't any laws about humans and werewolves keeping their hands to themselves."

"There ain't no laws, but it ain't right, either."

The second man held up a hand to quiet his friend. "Look, Crawford. I got nothing against humans. Let 'em do whatever they want. But there's rules about what can go on with the girls and what can't, rules we all agreed on and follow. All the wolves know the penalties for acting a fool when they're visiting upstairs. But Jack ain't got no jurisdiction over the humans."

Thomas fought back a snort at the idea of any human man surviving the sort of wrath Lottie brought down on anyone who misbehaved in her establishment. Instead he nodded. "True, there's no technical jurisdiction. But I think you're underestimating how much the Mayor and the Sheriff pay attention to Jack's opinion on things." Which was the nice, politically correct way of pointing out that Jack might as well run the damn town.

The tall man shook his head. "I told you all this was a waste of time."

The reasonable one was starting to look a bit panicked around the eyes, so Thomas cleared his throat. "Not saying that. You brought a complaint, and Jack will look into it. What sort of resolution would satisfy you?"

They shifted uncomfortably, none of them willing to say it. Finally, the spokesman inclined his head. "It might be easier for us to keep our girls if we knew what Lottie was offering. And -- And if we could maybe all come to an agreement about wages…"

Irritation flashed through Thomas again, more insistent this time. "You might not want Jack involved in any agreement you make about wages. If the Alpha lays down a law, you can be sure he'll stay busy making sure everyone follows it." Which I'm sure none of you plan to.

The man held up his hand. "We'll work it out amongst ourselves, I suppose. But we still need to know there's nothing untoward happening to the girls over there."

Which was an insult in and of itself, and explained why they'd come to him instead of Jack. He went out of his way to seem affable and easygoing -- the kind of man you could insult to his face and live to tell about it. And if that weren't the best way to protect my pack, I'd kick all of your asses here and now.

Knowing that his job required a certain demeanor didn't make it easier to stay calm. He felt his power flare with his temper and could tell by the way they fidgeted that they had too. He cursed silently and forced his power back into its carefully locked box. "I'll look into it, gentlemen."

"Thank you, Crawford." The other two men mumbled grudging thanks, as well, and they disappeared through the door and into the night.

Thomas considered indulging himself by slamming the door shut behind them, but he'd slipped enough by letting his temper off the leash. He was supposed to be the polite one. The civilized one. His approachability made it possible for Jack to rule with the sort of brutal strength it took to keep the wilder werewolves in line.

Few besides Jack had any inkling that the pack's beta had that same strength in him. Thomas didn't mind playing second-fiddle to Jack's tough and manly routine, but it got considerably less tolerable when people took it as license to insult him to his face. As if we'd let any of the women in Lottie's place be mistreated, even if she allowed it.

But it wasn't about that, and they all knew it. Lottie made money hand over fist with her smart business practices and her careful treatment of the people in her employ, and it drove the men crazy. They wanted that income, and they'd do anything to get it.

And their complaint tonight had been a trap. He remembered the muttered words of the angriest man: I told you all this was a waste of time. His interest in Charlotte was hardly a secret. If he didn't make a lot of fuss in investigating their allegations, the people who hated Lottie would take it as proof that she got to do whatever she wanted because she had the beta tucked in her pocket. They'd assume the only way to get to her would be outside the law.

People making that same assumption about Virginia Howard had led to bloodshed and death a few short months ago. Jack had been forced to kill a member of the pack, and resentment still seethed under the surface. Add in the possessive distaste most male wolves had for the idea of humans touching their women, and Thomas was sitting on a powder keg that could explode at any minute.

Which meant paying Lottie a visit tomorrow. And not the kind he'd hoped to, where he asked her on a walk and tried to ascertain if he was wasting his time with his careful courtship. The kind that would pretty much ensure she'd never think kindly of him again.

Sometimes I hate my job.