Page 6 of Forged Alliances
Jeremiah began fanning himself with one hand, the other firm on the wheel. “Don’t tell me you’re here to drag me in front of a slew of lovely ladies?”
Sierra shot him a glare. “Get your head out of your ass. Like I need more of you proud peacocks strutting around.”
Jeremiah snorted. “Aww, boss, I’m hurt. I’m guessing you need my lawyer expertise?”
“Bingo. You’ll be looking over a will. Leave the sleuthing to those who can handle it,” she teased. Hormones tended to rule among the Red Rock pack, whether hotheaded squabbles erupted over where someone parked their goddamn jeep, or someone slept with someone else’s boyfriend. Either way, most of the time she felt more like the pack babysitter than any sort of alpha.
Up ahead, the rendezvous point came into view, a roadside diner with a paste-white sign so bright it glared amid the fringe of surrounding forest. Jeremiah screeched to a halt first, popping on his blinker a second before he turned into the lot of Zip’s Diner. Red-and-white canopy decorated the length of the building to hover over the windows situated around the joint. The entire place stood no taller than one of the bigger cabins in Rickett’s Glen State Park, with a sign that spanned half the length of the building.
“Our shifter friend has impeccable taste,” Jeremiah said, his words coming out half-sneer. Not like Sierra blamed him—this place looked as inviting as a sewage plant. Yet the steady trickle of walker- and cane-accompanied folks coming in and out through the main doors was heartening, as was the packed parking lot. People were either satisfied or desperate.
“We’re not going here for him to wine and dine us,” Sierra responded, hopping out of the jeep before Jeremiah finished putting it into Park. Her boots thudded on the pavement, and the sun winked at her, glancing off all the bumpers and chrome in the parking lot. She tugged her glossy hair into a ponytail while waiting for Jer to join her. A familiar figure leaned against the whitewashed wall of the building. Sierra didn’t need to hone in to tell who waited; she noticed his presence as she would one of her own pack.
Dax Williams sauntered toward her with feline grace, his eyes simmering with amusement the second they locked gazes. His jeans hung low on his hips, and his white tee might as well have been plastic-wrapped on, providing a clear reminder of the chiseled six-pack she’d seen last night.
“They’ve got some great kibble on the menu here,” he drawled, eliciting a growl from Jeremiah. Her blood ignited. The man might be as pretty as a picture, but his smart-ass mouth ruined the package. Sierra contained her annoyance, offering a sweet smile while hiding her fangs.
“How considerate,” she murmured.
His brows furrowed in confusion. If he wanted to play power games, now that her temper had cooled and she tapped into a clear perspective, he didn’t stand a chance. She clapped a hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder. He had bared his teeth, two steps away from wolfing out around more than a couple of humans in front of this quaint diner. Perfect recipe for freaking out the norms. Their eyes met, and she stared him down with her patented alpha look. Sure, her wolf paced restlessly inside her, desperate to establish dominance with the newcomer, but Sierra steered this ship for a reason.
“Lest you think I came for witty banter,” Dax said as he made his way to the door and held it open for Jeremiah with a flourish. Jer folded his arms over his chest, refusing to budge. Save me from fragile male egos. Dax’s eyes glittered with unspent amusement, clarifying that the gesture was meant as a taunt.
“Streaky, he’s not asking you to marry him, just holding the door,” Sierra said, giving Jer a shove hard enough to send him stumbling. She followed through, shooting a glare at Dax as she passed. “And you’re no better. Taunting people you want help from is poor form. Shape up.”
Dax’s gaze darkened, and for a moment she wasn’t sure if they headed for a brawl right in the parking lot. Not uncommon with her kind. His breath hitched for a half second, but as sudden as a swerving car, he flashed her a hot-as-hell smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, following them into the diner. Jer had already claimed a booth right in the corner—best vantage point in the place—and he sat with his back to the outdated striped wallpaper. Sierra slid in beside him, and Dax sprawled out on the opposite bench. A waitress came bustling over, as hunched and withered as Sierra would expect from a place like this. Gray-stained teeth poked out with the woman’s smile as she took drink orders. After ordering her third cup of coffee for the morning, Sierra followed the waitress back to the swinging doors to whisper an extra order.
Dax’s gaze heated her the entire time. In fact, he’d watched her from the second they arrived. Her pack had more than a couple of attractive, eligible males, but apart from the infrequent hookup, they viewed her as off-limits. Most considered her one of the guys, and everyone else found her status intimidating—she’d learned that the hard way. The brazen way Dax looked her over was new, as if he undressed her with his eyes.
Sierra slipped back onto the cracked vinyl of the booth as the waitress disappeared past the chrome swinging doors. “So whip out the goods,” she said, eliciting a smirk from him. Before he could respond with a guaranteed annoying comment, she continued. “You brought the will?”
He passed the stack of papers to the center of the table. “Human lawyers wouldn’t be the faintest lick of help in this situation, and no one in our pack practices law. So I’m not sure if this spells out why the elders of the pack interfered in our match or not.”
“I’ll be able to gauge that quick,” Jer murmured as he grabbed the documents. He’d already pulled his reading glasses out, thick black frames that hooked on his nose. The second the papers came into the picture, her packmate’s lazy, domineering behavior vanished, all signs of his temper forgotten. With the will on the table, Jer’s stare grew more focused, and his mouth pressed into a fine line as he scanned the hefty document. Even if he had broken so many pool sticks at Beaver Tavern over the years they added the expense to his tab, Sierra respected his professionalism. He was one of the best shifter lawyers in the region, and he’d chosen to run with the Red Rock pack.
“While he’s going over the papers, I figured you and I could sleuth around my old territory so you can see firsthand what we’re dealing with.” Dax fiddled with the spoon on the table. He must not be comfortable asking for favors, but the man was willing to bury his pride for the sake of his pack.
“Good,” she agreed, respect warming her chest. “We can scout out any areas the scent isn’t heavy, see if we can sneak in and find why these elders interfered in the first place.”
The waitress came out from the swinging doors carrying a tray laden with the drinks and an opened can. “Going to place some orders?”
“Stuffed french toast for me,” Sierra volunteered first, since her sweet tooth refused to be denied. Jer placed an order for a bacon-and-cheese omelet, while Dax went straight for the classic creamed chipped beef on toast with a side of scrapple.
The waitress placed the coffee in front of Sierra, two Cokes in front of the boys, and the can in front of Dax. “Courtesy of your friend,” the waitress said, directing a thumb at Sierra before darting away.
“Eat up, kitty cat,” Sierra said sweetly, unable to help the smirk claiming her lips. This revenge tasted much sweeter than a simple retort or spark of temper. Dax’s jaw dropped for a second as he stared at the opened can in front of him. “From what I hear,” she continued, “this place is well known for their tuna.”
He shook his head in disbelief, and his eyes sparked when they met hers. Until his shoulders started quaking, and a sharp laugh burst from him, surprising both Sierra and Jer. “See, smarts. That’s why we came to you, Kanoska.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she muttered, even though a flush rose to her cheeks. The concession didn’t satisfy as much as torment him, and she didn’t quite trust the prickle of heat spreading from her cheeks to her nape in response. Dax winked before he tugged his fork out and began shoveling the contents of the tuna can into his mouth.
Jer’s forehead creased when he glanced up from the papers. “You’re actually eating that?”
Dax shrugged. “Why not? Still decent food, and I worked up an appetite after my morning run. Beside we’ll need fuel before Sierra and I get physical later,” he said, the heat behind his voice making the suggestion quite clear. The sensuality of his statement traveled straight between her legs, a thrum begging for attention. Not as if she’d indulge.
Jer didn’t hold back the growl as he bared his teeth. “Don’t you dare talk about my alpha that way.”