Chapter 4

When she came out of the stall, the three women were waiting for her, their expressions

slightly amused in a sinister manner.

All brown-haired, around mid-twenties like her--probably each wanting to be Dustin's new

mate and fearing she was a new competition.

When she'd come up with this scheme of looking for Asta's murderer, Akila had never

considered anyone would think she'd be interested in pursuing the pack's leader.

The idea of mating with a bigger Black for real. . She mentally shook her head.

“What's your name?” the woman in denims and a cowl-neck sweater asked, her voice softly

threatening, her western boot tapping on the tile floor.

Her amber eyes narrowed, she took in a deep breath--trying to smell who or what Akila

was--and curled her orange-painted lips up in a nasty way.

The notion her face could hideously freeze that way briefly crossed Akila's mind. “ We know

you're not from around here, and you're not one of us neither are you a human.”

“Hey, Octavia, what say we give her a nice send-off back to where she came from?” the

shortest one asked, still towering over Akila by several inches.

Akila brushed past her to wash her hands.

“Don't plan on staying, bitch,” a meatier one snarled, whipping her waist-length,

muddy-colored hair about as she spoke, crowding Akila.

She was bulkier than the other two, she would make a hefty wolf and would be hard to beat

if she craved being Dustin 's mate and fought the others to have that role.

But no female Lycaon--well, of the Brown variety--

crowded Akila anymore and got away with it, and she was having a devil of a time keeping

her cool.

“Don't intend to stay long.

"Just taking care of a little family business, if it's any of your concern.”

Octavia whispered close to her ear, her whiskey breath invading Akila's breathing space,

“We know who you are, and you can't have him, Brown.

You know what happened to the other one.

Get out of Dodge, honey, before you meet with the same fate too.”

Her blood boilling, Akila attempted to wash her hands as if the women didn't exist.

The short one yanked at her purse and the leather strap bit into Akila's shoulder. “Tell us who

you are.”

“As if the bitch would say, Violet, when she's wearing this fool disguise,”

Octavia snarled.

Akila's temple pounded with frustration, but she washed the soap off her hands and bit back

the angryl part of her wolf nature clawing to get out. Beating up three female Blacks wouldn't

help her cause.

Octavia bumped into her, probably triggered by the other pulling at her purse, each leading

the other on, escalating the situation.

Akila clenched her teeth against retaliating. Nothing they did was important enough to make

her retaliate, she reminded herself.

The heavy one grabbed a handful of Akila's hair and yanked hard.

“Guys don't like dyed hair, didn't you know?”

A sharp pain ripped across Akila's scalp, and she counted slowly to ten, hoping to avoid

physical contact, but planning swift retaliation if anyone did anything else.

“You got that right, Sabina,” Octavia said with a sharp laugh and reached for a handful of

Akila's hair.

Enough! With a quick well-placed jab, Akila elbowed Violet in the gut, judo-chopped Sabina

in the throat, then swung around and slammed her fist into Octavia's eye.

While they were gasping and cursing, Akila grabbed a paper towel, dried her hands, and

immediately left the restroom, her heart racing fast.

She'd asked for trouble now.

NO, Damn It. The Bitches Had Asked For Trouble And as much as told Akila that someone

had murdered Asta for being a brown.

She flung open the bathroom door and slammed it behind her, shutting out the women's

curses.

The men who were sitting with the women looked from Akila to the ladies' room.

Sorry, boys, the girls need to tidy up a bit.

Akila walked over to her seat and when the women stil didn't emerge from the restroom, Eric

noded his head for Laura to check out the bathroom.

Maybe now would be a good time for Akila to go in search of her rogue brother and uncle.

Forget that Asta had run away and gotten herself killed, leaving Akila to deal with Marcus's

pack alone.

Or, she could stay and face the wrath of a bunch of angry blacks.

As a matter of pride and a good deal of stubbornness, she stayed.

All eyes remained on the restroom while Akila coolly drank her second margarita.

No one spoke.

No doubt the whole lot of them would murder Akila while she slept tonight.

She hoped her time here wasn't totally wasted. But she wasn't giving up.

Laura came out of the restroom, her lips turned up, her eyes sparkling with amusement,

head shaking.

She raised her brows at the guys who were with the women and strolled past.

Her attention turned to Dustin , waiting for a report.

Her smile broadened, then she spoke to Eric.

“Next margarita's on me, Laura, for the young lady.” Mike offered Akila a grin and a wink.

Akila shook her head. “Water will be fine.

The three women walked out of the bathroom, Octavia scowling, her swollen right eye

already turning black and blue.

Violet was stil holding her stomach, and Sabina's face was dark with anger--Akila was pretty

sure her jab to the black's throat would prevent her talking much for a while.

Everyone looked the women over, then looked towards Akila.

No, she wasn't fighting to be the pack leader's new bitch.

She decided it was time for her to come up with a new plan.

This one damn sure wasn't working.

Dustin Silver watched the defiant young lady who had to be his mate's twin.

She had to be.

The voice clinched it.

At first, he had thought she was some ditsy human sitting in his chair at his table, and he

couldn't understand why Eric hadn't thrown her out of the place.

At least he'd thought she was human. Lycoans had exceptional visual acuity.

Only humans needed glasses.

And the pierced earrings.

No Lycoan would get caught dead with pierced earlobes in their wolf form.

Or wear a watch, for that matter.

Her straight black hair looked nothing like his dead mate's, and the blue eyes had stopped

him cold.

The perfume she'd drowned herself in, he figured, was some ploy to get all the guys in the

tavern hot and bothered, but for lycoans, the smell was overwhelming, burned their eyes,

and had the opposite effect.

Her voice was all it took to send shivers exploding across his skin.

He swore he was seeing his late mate sipping margaritas, which she never would have

done.

A wine lady was what she was.

And the way this woman had handled the ladies from his pack?

His mate would never have managed.