“Yeah, but they were together for two years, and she’s not good at being on her own. She goes to Donnie because she knows he’ll verbally shred Asshole’s character until she feels we’re all better off without him—which we are.”
“Why doesn’t she like talking badly of him in front of us? She knows we despise him. It’s not like she’d be poisoning our minds against him. He did that all on his own.”
“I think she doesn’t want us to see how much he hurt her; she doesn’t want that to hurt us and—” Gwen cut herself off at the chime of the doorbell. “I’ll get it.” Hoping it wasn’t Colt with more complaints from the Moores, she strode into the hall. But as she opened the door, it wasn’t to find Colt on her doorstep. No, it was worse.
Gwen gripped the edge of the door, mouth tightening. It was hard not to snarl at the balding, impeccably neat male. His smile was wide and friendly, but it had a shady edge to it—the kind you saw on a slimy door-to-door salesman. At least Brandt didn’t hide that he was a bastard. His father, however, lavished everyone with a false charm that grated on her nerves.
She noticed his chauffeur, Thad, leaning against the car, staring right at her. From what she could tell, the guy was also Ezra’s right-hand man.
“Good morning,” Ezra said brightly.
She arched a brow. “Is it?”
His smile faltered slightly. “Miss Miller, I’ve come in peace, I assure you.”
“And yet, I’m not feeling assured, Mr. Moore.”
“Please call me Ezra.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
“I was hoping that you and I could talk.”
“Is that not what we’re doing?”
“In private, I mean.” He glanced over her shoulder, hinting to come inside.
“This is private enough.”
His eyes hardened a little. “Very well.” Clearing his throat, he offered her a contrite smile. “I wanted to apologize for my son’s behavior the other night. He confessed that the bat is his and that his injuries weren’t caused by you—that you simply took the bat from him before he could smash the window of your truck. The incident shamed all three young men, and I know their families feel just as disappointed with their sons as I do with mine.”
What a crock of shit. “While I appreciate your taking the time to come here, I don’t want an apology. I want assurances that your son will stay away from me—that is all.”
He gave a respectful nod. “Understandable.” He slipped his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a check. “Allow me to offer this as compensation.”
She blinked. “Compensation?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
“You’re offering me ten grand . . . because your son acted like a dick?”
He seemed about to jump to Brandt’s defense, but then his face molded into a remorseful expression that didn’t reach his eyes. “Brandt is . . . troubled. I will admit that. But he would never raise his fist to a woman, let alone drug and beat one with a pole. He insists that you misread the situation you stumbled across, that he merely came upon the female shifter after she’d already been beaten by someone else.”
Anger surged through Gwen. She somehow managed to bite back a curse. “You don’t believe that. You want to believe it. But you don’t. Look, I get that he’s your son, and you don’t want to see him punished by the shifter council, but you can’t seriously think he doesn’t deserve a punishment for what he did.”
“He says he’s innocent—”
“I know what I saw, I know what I heard, and I know it was him. I could hear him beating her—hear that pole hitting bone before I even laid eyes on them. You’re insulting both my intelligence and your own by trying to insinuate differently.”
“The shifter altered her statement.”
“Because she’s scared out of her mind.”
“What do you care?” His upper lip curled. “She’s a shifter. A lone shifter, which makes it worse.”
“She didn’t deserve what happened to her, and Brandt doesn’t deserve to go unpunished for it.”
“So high and mighty, aren’t you?” he sneered. “Yet, you had no problem trying to shoot him, did you? Just like you had no problem hitting him with a bat or using a stun gun on him. He came home with a jaw so swollen he could barely talk.”
“But he went home conscious. If he comes at me again, I can’t guarantee he’ll go home at all—not while Donnie’s feeling trigger-happy. You understand that, don’t you, Mr. Moore? You understand that if you want your son safe, you need to get him under control?”
“I came here in peace,” he said once again.
“You came here to buy me off. It’s not the first time you’ve waved money at people to solve Brandt’s problems. If you weren’t a father who’s so quick to get out his checkbook to buy his son’s way out of trouble, you might have a better shot of keeping him in line. He’s used to Daddy saving his ass, so he doesn’t see the need to behave himself. It wouldn’t surprise me if he likes making you dance around and jump through hoops to get him out of trouble.”
Cheeks reddening, he insisted, “Brandt didn’t beat that shifter. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to keep that check and change your statement like a good little girl. Then, when you go before the council, you’ll tell them you can’t be sure who attacked her. If you don’t, you’ll find that the problems you’ve had so far were nothing.”
She leaned forward. “Bring it.”
“You need to step away from her,” rumbled a voice from behind her, loaded with menace. “And you need to do it now.”
Shit. Gwen flicked Zander a strained smile over her shoulder. “Mr. Devlin, I’ll be with you shortly.”
But Zander’s eyes were on Moore, and they were cold as ice. “You’re still standing too close to her. I don’t know why.”
Moore lifted his chin. “Who the hell are you?”
“That’s not important.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“I don’t care. Gwen doesn’t want you here, so leave.”
Moore turned back to Gwen, mouth set into a flat line. “Make the right choice, Miss Miller.”
“I already did. And I won’t be changing it.”
He gave a curt nod. “So be it.” Then he was gone.
Only once he’d driven away did Gwen shut the door. Turning, she found that her brother and Bracken had joined Zander. “Marlon, could you help Mr. Devlin with whatever he needs—I’ll be right back.” Because she needed some fucking air.
As she made a beeline for the kitchen, she could hear Marlon trying to dissuade the shifters from following her. Shoving open the back door, she stepped out onto the deck and inhaled deeply. The cool air filled her lungs, soothing her.
Sitting on the deck, she let her head drop forward. She was just so fucking tired of all this shit. Not that she intended to back down. Hell, no. She just didn’t want to be vilified for doing the right thing.
Hearing the door creak open, she glanced over her shoulder to see Zander staring right at her, hundreds of questions in his eyes. Just fucking great.