Well. Maybe that was the catch; the terrible pay. But it was better than no pay.
Given her current circumstances, this was literally an offer Chelsea couldn’t refuse. Right now she didn’t even have enough money to pay for gas to make it to another shifter territory. And this was a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Other than some spray-paint vandalism and an arrogant, hot-tempered musician, whom she was more than capable of handling, how much serious crime could there be?
I’d love to handle him some more, a hormone-fueled section of her brain shouted out, and she mentally chastised herself. And him. That Roman was absolutely dreadful, invading her thoughts uninvited when she was trying to talk business.
“We’d love it if you stayed here,” Lorena said eagerly. “Honestly. There’s just something that feels really good about having you around.”
Well, that was true, although if they knew why they might not be quite so eager to have her there.
“All right,” she conceded with a sharp twinge of uneasiness. “I’ll do it. Pepper, really,” she added.
Pepper had let out a lengthy blast of flatulence so loud that it echoed throughout the room and made Chelsea’s eyes water. Everyone else must have heard and smelled it too, but their eager smiles never wavered. That should have been a clue.
Two hours later, she was standing in front of a podium in the town hall, holding her hand up, repeating an oath to uphold the laws of the Silver Peak Territory, with most of the pack assembled. The mayor and town council were watching her with looks on their faces that frankly made her more than a little nervous. Erika wasn’t there; Chelsea had asked where she was, and apparently they’d finally gotten some business at the garage, so she was helping her dad fix an old Chevy Malibu.
As the Mayor quickly pinned a big five-pointed star on Chelsea’s blouse, she looked down at Pepper, who refused to meet her eyes.
What exactly have I gotten myself into? she wondered.
* * * * *
On a small, pie-shaped wedge of land outside Silver Peak, sandwiched between shifter territory and human territory, a family of humans was dealing with their own problems.
Their house was falling down around their ears. The roof leaked, the water heater was broken, and the septic tank needed a new drain field.
Furthermore, more sheep were missing from the property of rancher Mitch Rodgers. His land bordered theirs. Sections of Rodgers’ fence had been torn down, and a wolf’s paw prints had been found in the area where the sheep had vanished. The paw prints had continued on to the Dudleys’ property, which was making the Dudleys very nervous. The mood in Juniper, a small human town located uncomfortably close to shifter territory, was turning ugly.
And to top it off, Edna Dudley was standing in the drawing room trying to have a conversation with her granddaughter Joyce, and Joyce was completely ignoring her.
“Joyce, don’t you try the silent treatment on me—it won’t work.” Edna, seventy-seven, glared at her granddaughter. “You didn’t get home until four a.m. last night, and today’s a school day. Why are you home from school? If your parents were alive, they’d tan your hide, and I’ve half a mind to do it myself.”
There was no response.
Edna folded her arms across her chest and glowered. “Not talking, eh? I can outlast you. I’ll stand here all day if I have to.”
Behind her, she heard the sound of laughter, and she whirled around to glare at her two grandsons, Ryan, ten, and Shawn, eight. They were standing in the living room, watching her chastise her granddaughter. When she turned to scowl at them, they both quickly ducked behind the sofa.
From the hallway, she heard footsteps thudding down the stairs in a big hurry. Joyce walked down the stairs, then turned to frown at her younger brothers. “How long were you going to let Grandma stand there and talk to her reflection in the mirror?” she asked.
“We were almost done,” Ryan assured her, at the same time Shawn added, “It’s his fault. I wanted to tell her.” The next moment they were slapping at each other, and Joyce crossed the room quickly, grabbing them by their collars and separating them.
Edna turned to look at the mirror.
“Oh, my, you’re right, that is my reflection. I was wondering when you got glasses,” she said, squinting at herself in the mirror.
“Also, I’m not in high school—I’m twenty,” Joyce said with exaggerated patience. “And I was at work last night. At the Hootenanny. I bartend and waitress there. Remember?”
“Well of course I remember, dear. You took that job so we wouldn’t lose the house. What do you think I am, senile?” Edna said indignantly. She looked around. “Now where are my glasses?”