Page 22 of Strike It Witch

“Pack-subsidized doesn’t mean free, and it doesn’t mean they won’t jack up the rent when they can get away with it. Thank Zeus and all the fates for Ronan. Without him, I’d be out on the street. Unlike some alphas, he cares about us old beta wolves.”

“If you think the pack will allow it, I’ve got two spaces available at Siete Saguaros. Rent-controlled.” I hadn’t raised the rent since Mom last did it, and that had been ten years ago. “I’ve even got an empty mobile home since Ms. Berry’s passing. I bought it off her daughter. I’d sell it to you for the price I paid, which wasn’t much.”

She looked hopeful for a moment then shook her head. “Alpha Pallás won’t allow it. You know how he is.”

Yeah, I did. Which was why I despised the old man and distrusted the hell out of his son, no matter how well he treated the beta shifters in the pack.

I mean, was I supposed to give the guy a medal for treating beta wolves like Gladys with the bare minimum of respect?

“Gladys, is there any coffee left?” a grumbling male voice called out.

“Hablando del rey de Roma,” I muttered under my breath. Mom’s version of “speak of the devil.”

I hadn’t heard that voice in months, but I knew it like I knew my own. I shouldn’t have, but no one got under my skin quite like Ronan Pallás.

“Just made a fresh pot, boss.”

“Gladys Jiménez, you are a saint among sinners.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. But I do make a mean cup of joe.”

Ronan strolled into the room through a door just beyond the restrooms. He was in his mid-thirties and built strong and lean. His cropped short hair was auburn, his eyes green-brown, his skin white with a hint of tan. Freckles were loosely scattered over his arms and face, and he wore a smart-ass smile. Something about the man woke up parts of me better left asleep, and I wished like hell I hadn’t run into him before my meeting.

Fat chance of that. He owned the damned pub, after all.

“Betty Lennox, my favorite wicked witch.” One burnt sienna eyebrow shot up. “Come to cast a spell on me?”

Gladys chuckled. “Nah, Betty doesn’t cast spells on friends.”

“No, I don’t. Not onfriends.” I gave him my most sarcastic grin. “Ronan Payaso, my least favorite bar owner.”

“That’s Pallás—pie-yAHs—no 'o' on the end, as you well know. I’m no one’s clown.” He poured himself a mug of coffee and brought it to where I was seated. He looked headed out for a run in a black T-shirt that hugged his muscled biceps, gray sweatpants, and running shoes.

“Brushing up on your Spanish?” I asked.

“My father has a foul mouth and a short fuse. I might not have been raised around him, but I know Spanish insults,” he replied. “And compliments…bonita.”

“Keep your gross compliments to yourself.” It was a crime how good the man looked in those sweatpants.

“Also, we both know you’re lying, Betty,” he continued, ignoring my insult. “I’m not your least favorite bar owner. I’m not even your least favorite in La Paloma.”

I shrugged. “Fine, you’re right. As long as your father owns Pallás Place, you’ll remain mysecondleast favorite bar owner.”

Gladys moved down the bar to refill drinks, and I let out a tired sigh and dropped the lightness in my tone. “Alpha Floyd’s abusing his elder wolves. Again.”

For a second, just one, rage flashed across his face. Ronan’s contempt for the father he’d only met five years ago was the worst kept secret in town. “I’m taking care of it, Betty.”

“You’re taking care ofGladys, for which I’m grateful, but you can’t take care of them all. That’s what the pack is for. It’s why all those wolves pay into it. For protection and family. Alphas are supposed to watch over betas, not leave them out in the cold.”

“Preaching to the choir, Lennox.”

“You could do something about it.”

“Not my call,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not the alpha leader.”

“Ever wish you were? Because I bet a lot of the wolves here do.”

Power gilded his hazel eyes and trickled into his voice. “I will never be Alpha.”

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