Lowlander Silverback(24)

Kong nodded, knowing he never would. “I’ll see you when I see you, Mac.”

The old man’s thin smile lifted and fell. “Goodbye, Kong.”





Chapter Seven




Layla was supposed to be off tonight, so when she bustled through the door and behind the bar top, Kong was utterly gut-punched.

“She isn’t supposed to be working tonight,” Kong muttered to Creed, dark-eyed alpha of the Gray Backs. “That’s the only reason I was okay with having this here.”

Jason was talking to Kirk in the corner while Kong shot pool with Creed. Beaston, the clever monster, had apparently told his crew about Kong’s troubles, as well as about Layla, and they had set up a going-away shindig at Sammy’s. They were also doing a bang-up job of keeping Kirk at a distance, which he appreciated more than they knew. Rhett had said he’d rather cut off one of his own balls than come to a Kong celebration, so he was getting a night off from that relentless prick as well. The going-away party had gone great until Layla came in looking like a million fucking bucks in a short, ripped-up jean skirt, fishnet stockings, and black combat boots that came mid-calf. And always with the tank top that showed the top half of those buxom tits of hers. And now, after one second of drinking her in, his dick was knocking on the seam of his jeans.

He forced his eyes back to the pool table to line up a shot before Kirk noticed his flighty attention. Willa danced by with a red feather boa around her neck singing a song about a matchmaker finding a find and catching a catch. He’d bet his sawmill the pint-sized red-headed hellion had something to do with Layla taking over Jackson’s shift midway through the night. Kong hid a smile and shook his head as he popped the cue ball into the red three. It blasted into the corner pocket. Damn, he was going to miss these bears.

“We got you a going-away card,” Willa said with a graceful spin before she leaned onto the pool table. She pulled an envelope from her bra and grinned up at him. “It’s not money.”

Kong snorted and ripped into the thick envelope. Inside the card read, Don’t Go Asshole in ugly bubble letters, and the Gray Backs and Ashe Crew had all signed it. In the very bottom corner, Beaston had simply written, you are my friend, and he and Aviana had signed their names underneath.

Kong’s throat tightened, and he tried to smile at Willa. He opened his mouth to pop off a witty retort, but none came.

“Oh, hairy monkey,” Willa murmured, throwing her tiny arms around his middle and squeezing him with an amazing amount of gusto for one so small. “This place isn’t going to be the same without you.”

“Willa, you’re killing me.”

She whispered, “It’s okay to cry.”

“No, I mean you’re squeezing the shit out of me.”

“Oh. Bear muscles,” she explained, easing away and flexing. “As almost alpha, I don’t know my own strength.”

Creed sighed behind her and chalked up his pool cue. “Willa, you are second, not almost alpha.”

It’s all the same, Willa mouthed to Kong. She whipped her cell phone from her back pocket and nearly blinded him with the bejeweled case that protected it. She punched in a number and waited, hip cocked against the pool table as she bit her thumbnail. “Oh! It’s ringing.”

The landline behind the bar was trilling at the same time Willa shoved the phone into his palm and whispered, “Good luck.”

“What?” he barked out as panic dumped adrenaline into his veins. But Willa was already prancing off toward Kirk, flailing her feather boa gracefully.

“Sammy’s,” Layla clipped out.

“Uuuuh, hi.” He turned and shot her a glance behind the bar.

“I’m busy. Someone is apparently having a going-away party I wasn’t invited to.” Her voice shook with anger and something else he didn’t understand. “Nothing like serving drinks at a farewell party for the man I love.”

She made to slam the phone back onto the cradle nailed to the wall, but Kong said, “Wait.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead and checked that Kirk was busy. Willa had draped herself across him, and Jason was singing in an off-key opera voice. Matt was in the process of positioning himself in between Kirk and Kong, cutting off his guard’s line of site. Well played, Gray Backs. Kong turned and rolled his shoulders as he looked at the wall and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that in the note. I got it by the way. Nicely done giving it to Mac instead of telling me in person.”

“Because I can’t,” Kong murmured. “I can’t see you. I can’t talk to you. You think I want it like this? I fucking love you, Layla. I love you. I do. There it is.” He gritted his teeth and murmured, “I’ve never said that to anyone before, and look at where it’s getting me. I’m gutting us both.”