Page 2 of Enemy Wolf

“I know what a cable closet is!” I shouted.

His mouth closed, dark eyebrows furrowing over those eyes that looked more animal than human. Like he was the one with the right to be confused.

“And no, you can’t get into it. You shouldn’t be here at all. We’re fucking closed.” I tightened my grip on the bat, which the werewolf appeared to notice for the first time.

“Take it easy,” he said, lifting a hand. “Your front door was unlocked.”

“That’s not an invitation!” I screeched.

He frowned, jaw muscles ticking under the dark beard that coated his jaw. “Why else would you leave it unlocked?”

“Because I have to carry trash to the dumpsters! Why am I even having this conversation with you?”

“I dunno, you came out here with a weapon to yell at me.”

“You broke into my bar!”

“I did not, your fucking door was unlocked!”

“Fucking moon, are you really this dense?” Now I really wanted to swing the bat. Not at him, necessarily, but just to hit something so I could let this frustration out. “Why are you even here?”

He pointed to the boxes and wires laid out on the bar. “Installing security cameras. What does it look like?”

I stared at him, my confusion only growing. “I never asked for security cameras.”

“The alpha said I was to install them.” The wolf’s expression relaxed with a realization dawning on him. “I guess he never told you.”

He definitely did not. My focal point up until then had only been the wolf’s eyes because they were so unusually bright. Now that I figured out he wasn’t going to rob or hurt me, I took in the rest of him.

He wore a black leather vest over a snug white T-shirt that hugged around his biceps. The patch on the left side of the vest was a wolf’s skull, jaws open and ready to strike. A symbol I and all of Vargmore knew well. On the back of the vest, I knew that same skull would be a large centerpiece framed by the words HOWLING DEATH MC.

The biker club of werewolves was also the reigning pack of Vargmore, and this fucking know-it-all was part of them?

“You’re with Howling Death?” I asked skeptically.

The wolf glanced down at his patch as if to make sure it was still there. “Yeah.”

“And it was Derric who sent you to install security cameras in my bar?”

“Yeah,” he repeated.

I cocked my head as I stared at him. I thought I knew of every wolf in Howling Death, but I would definitely remember those eyes if I had seen them before. “What’s your name?”

“Orson,” he said. “I’m the treasurer and tech security for the pack.”

“How come I’ve never seen you before?”

Orson shrugged. “Don’t go out much.”

Yeah, that much was obvious, what with the whole inviting himself in and not even bothering to introduce himself display.

Might as well lead by example. “Well, I’m Shiloh.”

“I know. Your name’s on the business license and all the financial records of the bar.”

It’s called being polite, asshole, but okay, nevermind.

“Well, I’m sorry you had to come out all this way.” I forced a smile through gritted teeth. “But I will not be having security cameras in my establishment.”

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