Page 95 of Villainous Fate

He’s a shifter but not a wolf.

The moment he comes to the same conclusion, he straightens his back, stepping a stride farther away.

“Not from around here, are you, pup?” he asks, keeping enough distance between us while still moving to pump the gas.

“Just passing through,” I say, hoping to avoid complications.

“You get permission from the council to be ‘passing through’?” he asks, making eye contact with me.

“Yes, sir, we did. I'm not looking for any trouble, honestly,” I say as he finishes with the gas.

He heads back into the store, and I follow, pulling out my wallet so I can pay him. On my way back to the register, I see Grace’s favorite candy, so I grab two boxes of the Runts and two of the Nerds, my favorite.

“It's $7.61 for the gas,” he says, and I lay the four candies down.

“These as well, please,” I say, handing him a ten-dollar bill.

Grace’s red hair catches my attention as she heads back to the Bronco, and the man makes my change.

“Be careful heading through Stockton. There’s new leadership down there trying to make a bigger name. They’ve infiltrated the PD and are running extra taxation on the roads,” he says, hinting at a situation that would not be good for us.

Gonna need a new path.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate the information,” I say, grabbing the bag of candy and heading to the car.

So much for an easy trip.

I shove the bag through Grace’s open window, startling her from her book as it falls to the floor.

“Hold these a minute. I’m going to run to the bathroom. We will need a new route around Stockton,” I say before leaving her.

I ensure I’m fast emptying my bladder, and we're back on the road a minute later.

“I found a way around, but it will add time to our trip,” she says.

“That’s fine. I’d rather be safe than sorry. The guy in there warned us about new leadership in Stockton. I’ve been in every council meeting for weeks. No one there is aware of any leadership changes, so this is new,” I say, concern evident in my voice.

“What if it's a trap?” she asks, her voice small.

“What would he gain? We will be almost an hour away by then,”

“I don’t know. My dad always told us not to trust a fox shifter. They live up to their name.”

Fox. I’ll be damned. I would have guessed some kind of bobcat based on his odd smell.

“What do you think, Spitfire? My gut tells me he was just looking out for us, but I’ve never met a fox shifter, so I have nothing to go off there,” I say, giving her the choice of how we proceed.

“I trust your gut,” she says, looking at me, her confidence written there.

“Then we will take the alternate route and see the sights on the local roads,” I say before digging into the bag at her feet, tossing a box of Runts in her lap, and keeping a box of Nerds for myself.

Her smile lights up her eyes, and she turns them my way, delighted but skeptical.

“I believe you were the one who said, and I quote, ‘snacks’ as the number one way to keep a woman happy.”

“You’re right. I did. I just can’t believe you remembered they were my favorite,” she adds.

“It's incredibly difficult to forget a twenty-minute soapbox speech about how much better Runts were than Skittles because ‘you can’t even tell what flavor Skittles are,’” I say, putting on a Southern accent to mock her tone.

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