Page 5 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"You have a really nice pair of tits, so I was thinking, waitress at Hooters?"

My nice pair of tits was what started all this mess.

"Nope on a rope."

"Are you sure? The tips are meant to be good."

I raise an eyebrow at her, and she peers down at her list. "Mrs. Malowny downstairs needs someone to walk her chihuahuas."

"How many?"

"Five."

"Five?! Jeez. No, Besides, I'm allergic."

"You're being fussy."

"Am not. What's next?"

"Oh, now this one is perfect." She taps her fingertip over job number three. "My friend Josie's aunt is looking for waitresses for her catering company. They do big corporate bashes and that kind of thing. She actually needs someone for tomorrow night."

"Does this waitressing also involve flashing my cleavage?" I ask.

"No, it's all high-end events. Classy. Expensive. The tips might even be better and no need to flash even a little of your fabulous titties."

"All right."

Courtney grins. "Honestly?"

"Yeah, why not? I do know how to waitress."

One skill I have picked up. Hard not to when your parents own the diner in your hometown. I was expected to help out most evenings after school. I can balance six plates in my teeny tiny hands, can lay a table with my eyes closed, and tot up a bill in my head.

This may be a more glamorous gig – this may be the city and not little ole Naw Creek – but I can smash this.

"Here's the number, then," Courtney says, pushing the paper back my way. "Give her a call."

2

Axel

I smileat the man sitting opposite me. I've got him exactly where I want him.

He knows it. I know it. Everyone sitting around this table damn well knows it.

"The offer is a good one, Malcolm," I tell him, drumming my fingers against the tabletop as if I have all the time in the world.

"You know I don't want to sell."

I shrug, lifting my palms to the air. That's the other thing we all know: what he wants doesn't matter. My pack wants that piece of land, has done for the last 18 months. Prime real estate out by the seafront. It's perfect for development and we haven't been the only ones circling it like a swarm of sharks.

I want my hands on that land before anyone else grabs it. And when I say anyone else, I mean Pack Boston.

"I know you don't," I tell him. "But you haven't got a choice."

Connor went snooping on old Malcolm boy, something he loves to do. There's always dirt if you search hard enough, and Connor is particularly good at sniffing it out.

Turns out old Malcom had more than one skeleton in his closet. He might look like the upstanding citizen on the outside, refusing to sell out to the big boys, church every Sunday, modest donations to local charities, but we've discovered his dark side.

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