∙•∙
Roger Barkley watched the front of the condo without blinking. They’d been inside for hours without coming out. He fought the need to slam his hand into the steering wheel in frustration. Just his luck. Not only does this Masters asshole start nosing around in Roger’s business, but he drags one of the Native Americans with him.
Roger didn’t give a fuck the guy was only half native. In his experience, even with half his heritage from the reservation, he could prove to be a powerful shaman. And the last thing Roger needed was some dick with strange Native American lupine powers also snooping around the logging site.
All Roger needed was another two weeks, perhaps ten days, to finish clearing the rich land he was working. And then he’d be out of there and on to his next project.
When he’d seen the two men go inside the condo with a woman, he’d groaned. Son of a bitch. Could this get any worse?
And they hadn’t come back out. Half of him wished he’d set the place up with explosives and wiped out all three of them as soon as they opened the front door. It would have been simpler.
But no. His conscience had gotten ahold of him, and he’d hoped to prove to himself that Logan would go away without outside intervention. That idea was growing less likely by the minute. Apparently the Masters liked ménages. And considering the way both men were ogling the woman who entered with them, the most likely scenario was they were all three inside fucking like bunnies while Roger sat in his truck across the street for no good reason.
A thought occurred to him. Perhaps, if he was lucky, the men would remain distracted enough with the whore to forget about the logging site and keep themselves occupied long enough for Roger to finish his work and get out of town.
Chapter Seventeen
Sawyer wandered into the kitchen after taking a shower in the hall bath. He wore nothing but his jeans slung low on his hips, not bothering to button them.
Amanda hadn’t come out of the master bath yet, and Logan had showered before Sawyer in the hall bathroom. In fact, Logan lifted his face from where he stared at a piece of mail in his hand. He was distracted. No. That didn’t sum it up. He was pissed.
“What happened?” Sawyer lowered into the seat next to Logan, pointing at the unfolded piece of paper in Logan’s hand.
Logan shook himself from his faraway thoughts and handed the letter to Sawyer. “This happened.”
Sawyer scanned down the page, quickly reading the one-sentence warning. “Shit. Where did this come from?”
Logan held up the envelope. “Someone must have slid it through the mail slot. I found it lying on the tile.”
Sawyer nodded, taking the plain white handwritten paper from his mate. “This wasn’t sent through the post office. There’s no postal marking on the stamp.”
“I noticed that. Whoever left it probably hoped I wouldn’t. Otherwise, why bother putting a stamp on it?”
Sawyer set the envelope down and returned his gaze to the letter. “Do you suppose someone saw you Thursday when you stumbled upon the site?”
“Not a chance. There were no shifters in the area, and every man on the ground was working hard. Even if one of them had spotted me, they wouldn’t have paid me any attention. Wolves must wander up to the edge of the woods every day. It’s their land being destroyed after all.”
Sawyer handed the letter back to Logan. “Okay, but I don’t see another explanation.”
“I know.” Logan slouched in the chair, rubbing his head. “It makes no sense at all.”
The letter gave Sawyer the creeps. Someone had sent a very specific warning to Logan—Mind your own business. What other event could the writer have been referring to? “Are you sure you didn’t mention what you saw to anyone until last night when Mimi came out to talk to us?”
“I’m sure. Unless I suffered from some sort of amnesia, you can take my word on that one.”
“We need to call Trace.”
“Yeah. I just did. Not much we can do with one small handwritten threat, though. He said to let him know if there are others.”
“Any chance the sender could be referring to something else?”
Logan blew out a breath. “I don’t know what. It’s cryptic, but it’s pretty specific at the same time. There certainly isn’t any other issue I’ve stuck my nose into.”
“What’s cryptic?” Amanda asked as she entered the room.
Sawyer turned his head and reached for her hand.
She ignored him, and headed to the other side of the table to pull out a seat and plop down into it. She shot him a shy grin. “You can’t touch me. I lose my mind every time you do,” she said sweetly.