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I narrowed my eyes. “What hasn’t?”

“The truck you’re taking about.” He sounded bored. He’d already dismissed me.

“I haven’t told you which vehicle I’m talking about yet.” I relaxed into my seat. I didn’t mind this guy standing over me. He couldn’t intimidate me.

Too many people knew I was here, and even Owen Vulcan — perhapsespeciallyOwen Vulcan — wouldn’t want the scandal of Patrick Crenshawe going missing on his turf.

He chuckled. “I’ve seen clips of the incident you’re referring to on the local news. Of course I have an interest in recovering my vehicle and dealing with whoever took it. And I intend to cooperate fully with the law.” Like a showman, he raised his voice with those last words, and laughter emanated from the tables around us.

People were listening. Watching their alpha. Protecting him.

I made a mental note that the men in here weren’t as oblivious and distracted by the strippers as they seemed to be. The alcohol flowed, but maybe it fueled them rather than dulled their senses. The air tasted of testosterone and barely reined in anticipation. It prickled with the need to fight.

I shook my head. As much as my own wolf wanted the same, I hadn’t come here for that.

Suddenly, Owen sat down, drawing a chair to the closest table. His beta remained standing, arms folded, a menacing air around him. Not that I cared. If the man wanted to remain uncomfortable, he could feel free to do that.

“You and I have a mutual interest,” Owen said, his voice suddenly much lower. Apparently, this wasn’t business he wanted to share with everyone.

I didn’t say anything.

Owen smiled. “Josephine Everly,” he said. He grinned again, the teeth in his mouth more like his fangs.

Rage burned inside me at Jo’s name on his lips, and I fought not to pound my fist into his mouth so he couldn’t say it again.

“And her company,” he continued. “Gold Moon Inc. looks very, very attractive, doesn’t it?” His tone had turned conversational. “And you know, I got to thinking. Despite your massive skyscrapers and your fancy company, you aren’t the only alpha capable of a hostile takeover.” He shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe she won’t find my takeover quite so hostile. We might get along quite nicely.”

I gritted my teeth and clamped my jaw shut, my instincts warring and raging inside me. I hadn’t come here for a fight, but I wanted to more and more with every word he said. But I was outnumbered. And it wouldn’t solve anything today.

Even most of the dancers here were Owen’s pack. I could smell his tainted, bitter stench on all of them. Every single one would probably give their lives to defend him, or suffer the consequences if they were seen to be disloyal.

Owen watched me for another few seconds like he was deciding something. Then he half rose. “Does that conclude our business for today, Patrick Crenshawe, CEO of Apex Asset Management and alpha of the Silver Claw pack?”

I nodded. I’d done all that I’d come here to do, after all. He’d admitted his company’s involvement in Jo’s attack and I’d gotten an initial look at his set-up. He’d even told me he was still after Jo and her company, so if he was hiding something, that wasn’t it.

“Then I think you should probably leave.” He gestured toward the door. “And make no mistake — the only reason I’m letting you walk out of here in exactly the same condition you walked in is because I don’t want a war with the Silver Claw pack. It wouldn’t serve my…business interests…right now.” He shrugged. “However, if I see your face here again, I might not feel so kindly towards it.”

He stood, beckoned to his beta, and they walked away, leaving me at the table like something they’d discarded. Foxy watched me from the corner of the room as the two men disappeared back behind the curtain and out of sight once more.

After waiting long enough that it looked like my own choice, I stood and left, barely containing my rage.

Fucking Own Vulcan. What did he think he could do with Jo or her company? I lifted my fist and smashed it against my passenger side window as I walked around my car, my rage exploding in a shower of glass fragments.

Jackson would be mad about another repair, but better that than damaging Owen Vulcan’s face and the fall-out from such an action.

27

JOSEPHINE

The three of us stood in Mom’s entrance hall, Charmaine twisting her hands in front of her. The paperwork was all as sorted as we could manage and all inconsistencies had been noted. We were ready to move to the next phase and be the meddling kids who prevented the bad guy from getting away with it.

Anxiety thrummed through me, but I smiled. “Are you both sure?”

I was met with two grim faces as Charmaine and Wes nodded.

“What else can we do?” Wes asked. “We can’t just let someone get away with whatever they’re doing to Gold Moon, right?”

“And I think I owe it to Joe to see this through. He knew something was wrong and he’d enlisted my help.” But Charmaine twisted her fingers together even more fiercely as she spoke, telegraphing her anxiety.


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