Page 6 of Fighting Her Wolves

“Oh, I was wondering why he was watching his back. I thought he might have fucked someone else’s woman, waiting for them to come at him.” River sets down his empty bowl and joins me on the floor, brushing his shoulder against mine. “Proud of you,” he whispers.

“Thanks,” I say just as quietly.

“I should have the car done soon. Before lunch, at least.”

“You just ate your lunch,” I frown.

“That?” he thumbs his hand over his shoulder. “That was a mid-morning snack.”

“I will never understand you,” I say, shaking my head.

“Many have tried,” he says.

“Harmony called. She asked if we would look at her friend's car.” I dump the last of the glass in the trash. “She asked sweetly when I told her we didn’t have time today.”

“I bet,” he snorts. “She has you eating out of the palm of her hand.”

“Making up for lost time, brother,” I say. “She could ask me to kill you, and I would consider it.”

“I’m offended,” he gasps and holds his hand over his heart.

“Can you get offended?” I ask with a tilt of my head. I wipe down the wall quickly and throw the rag away.

“I could if I wanted to,” he declares.

I scoff, “Sure.”

“When’s the friend coming?”

“Around noon.” I wipe my hands on my pants. “Is Marcus out there now?”

“He was before I came in here. Do you want me to send him in?”

“Yes.”

While I wait, I clean off my desk. Things have gotten out of control. I have put so many things off for another day. I have a stack of purchase orders I need to go through, billing receipts to file, and a pack to get in order.

I start today with Marcus. We’ve never been best friends, but I thought we had mutual respect. He made it apparent his anger at my place as Alpha. It infuriates me that my actions lately have proven him right.

River not so gently shoves Marcus into the room and slams the door behind him.

Marcus is the classic tough guy. He’s big and muscled. He’s cocky. I hate cocky, especially if you don’t have the qualities to back it up.

“Thanks for coming in,” I say wryly.

“Not by my choice,” he growls.

I ignore the attitude. “Why have you been coming in late?”

“What does it matter? River comes and goes as he wants. What’s the difference?”

“River works his ass off. He works on twice as many cars as you do. He finishes the job too.” The fastest way to piss me off is to talk shit about River. When I do it, it’s in fun; if you hurt him, I wouldn’t blink twice, cutting you into little pieces.

“So, he hasn’t spent his life in this pack.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve been slacking. You get paid to do a job. If you continue not to hold up your end, the money will go away.”

“Now you're not going to pay me?” he shouts. He crosses his arms.

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