Silver-Tipped Justice(7)

He returned to the bar where he’d first seen the man and sat down at the table he’d vacated to chase his fleeing mate. The food and beer he’d left had been cleared away, but Kontra didn’t care. He’d expected as much.

“Hey, back again?” Shep greeted with a grin. Kontra spared the guy a nod.

“Same brew as before?” he asked, eying Kontra

with interest. Kontra could see the questions in the guy’s eyes, but to his credit, he didn’t voice them. “And two shots of patron,” he said.

Shep’s brows shot up, but all he said was, “You got it.” While he waited, Kontra tried to figure out what the hell Tim meant about him not being a shifter. He’d first seen the man while visiting an owl shifter flock in France. His bear clan had wanted to make a deal for trading some of their lagers for the flock’s wine. He’d scented the much younger male and had known instantly his mate was near. It had taken some discreet questioning to learn that Tim was the son of a shifter who worked in the casking room.

The appearance of a shot glass in his line of sight pulled Kontra out of his thoughts. He looked up and found Shep holding a second shot glass and two mugs of beer. Kontra grabbed the shot and downed it, relishing the burn of the liquid.

To his surprise, when he put the glass down, he found Shep sitting across from him, one of the two beers cradled between his palms. Kontra grabbed the second shot and downed it.

Kontra set the glass down, picked up his beer, and chased the burn with a swallow of the soothing, bitter brew. Leaning back, Kontra frowned at the human. “What?”

Shep didn’t seem the least bit put off by his growly tone. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table, and murmured, “I saw you follow Tim out.”

“Yeah,” Kontra stated, seeing no need to lie. He swigged more beer and waited. “Just because Tim’s gay, doesn’t mean he’s any less a man. If I find out problems, you’ll have not with,” Shep warned.

Kontra’s brows lifted at the human’s words. It was nice to hear his mate was so highly regarded by his peers. It spoke well of him. He shook his head. “I won’t hurt him,” he stated.

Shep’s eyes narrowed. “Then why did you follow him out?”

Hearing the disbelief in the bartender’s tone, Kontra’s jaw clenched. He sucked in a slow breath, trying to decide what to tell the man. He didn’t want problems with anyone in town. That wouldn’t help him win points with Tim. Why the hell didn’t the guy feel the mate-pull?

“Well?” Shep urged, pulling Kontra’s attention back to him.

“I’m attracted to him,” Kontra told him. “I wanted an opportunity to get to know him better.”

That had Shep straightening and his brows shooting up to his hairline. His gaze swept the room as he licked his lips. After nearly thirty seconds, Shep shook his head and looked down at his beer. “He lost his partner not long ago.” He waved a hand at the empty shot glasses and nearly finished beer. “I’m assuming he shot ya down.”

you’re causing him just me to contend Kontra nodded. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Sorry, man,” Shep said, rising. “I’ll get you another couple shots.”

Nodding again, Kontra downed the last of his beer.

He shifted in his seat and grimaced. He still hadn’t cleaned up after coming in his jeans and it was becoming itchy. He rose and headed for the men’s room. Kontra cleaned himself up as best he could, but was more interested in getting back to the table and a fresh beer.

Three hours later, Kontra still sat at the table. He was staring vacantly into his beer when Payson sat down across from him. “Hey, boss,” Payson greeted, his gaze sweeping over him. “Whatcha doin’ here? Where’s Tim?”

Kontra blinked, trying to focus his swimming vision on his pack mate. “He doesn’t want me,” he slurred. He paused and swallowed hard.

Payson leaned toward him and stared into his face. “Damn, boss. How much have you had?”

That was a good question. Kontra wasn’t real sure. It took a hell of a lot more alcohol to get a shifter drunk than a human, but he sure managed to tie one on tonight. “Shit,” he muttered. “I gotta sleep this off.”

He rubbed his palms over his face and groaned. “What the fuck was I thinking?”

“Come on, boss. You can tell me all about it in the morning,” Payson said. He wrapped his arm around Kontra’s waist and urged him to his feet.

Kontra struggled up, leaning on Payson. “I’m too fucking old for this,” he mumbled. “What the hell was I thinking?” Wait, didn’t I ask that already? Everything was really fuzzy.