Page 17 of To Hunt A Wolf
I don’t see Levi, but that’s probably better. It means, hopefully, he doesn’t see me yet either. Cautious, I make my way to an open space at the far end of the bar. Somehow, everyone manages to stare without actually making eye contact.
Par for the course in a town like this one, I guess.
The bartender sidles up. A woman whose years behind the bar have toughened her into a hardened shell judging from the no-bullshit look in her sharp eyes.
“What’ll you have?” she asks. Not unfriendly, just impatient.
“Root beer,” I tell her.
She doesn’t even lift a brow as she turns away to pour my drink.
The sensation of a body pressing in close behind me has me gearing up for a sucker punch. Then I hear the voice.
“I thought I told you to lay off the hard stuff after last time.”
Tripp.
Even before I’ve whirled to face him, I already know Tripp’s expression will be fixed in a maddeningly charming smile. After ten years as friends, I know him well enough to predict his cheerful, teasing nature. Sure enough, his grin is the first thing I see when I look at him.
His boyish looks make him appear younger than twenty-one. That hasn’t changed, I note. Neither has the shaggy hair he always insists on wearing long and unruly. He’s my height, which puts us eye to eye. Great for punching, I think with a smirk.
“What the hell is a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asks.
But I don’t laugh. I can’t.
“Tell me you’re not here withhim.”
The words are out before I can stop them.
Tripp’s expression twists. He rolls his eyes. “Don’t start with me, Mac.”
“Me? You’re the traitor.”
“You want to do this? Now?”
I bite my tongue to keep from delving into an old argument. But the pang in my heart is the same as always. After everything, Tripp remained friends with Levi instead of me—and that would always hurt.
“I need to talk to him,” I say instead of beating a dead horse.
Tripp eyes me warily.
“Does this have anything to do with that trouble back home?”
I stare at him, not sure whether to pummel him or take his question seriously.
“If by trouble, you mean the part where I saw Levi murder Crigger, yeah, Tripp, it has to do with that.” I dart a glance around the room, knowing full well Levi sent Tripp over here. Which means he’s close.
I realize belatedly I’ve dropped my guard, and now I scramble to get it up again.
“You didn’t see shit,” Tripp says, and my hands ball into fists.
Behind me, the bartender says, “That’ll be five-twenty-five.”
“For a root beer?”
“Inflation,” she says dryly.
“Here.” Tripp takes a ten out of his wallet and tosses it onto the bar behind me. “My treat.”
