Using his napkin, Thatcher wiped the corner of his lip where pasta sauce had lingered after his final forkful of spaghetti. Next to him, Norman stared down at his plate, pushing a piece of meatloaf around.
Thatcher sat back in his chair and examined the room. He’d asked the hostess for a seat in a secluded corner where he wouldn’t be disturbed.
Mama Jolene and Papa D’s little restaurant was a popular eatery and, aside from a few bars and pubs, it was one of the best places to get a feel for the pack’s vibe.
As alpha, he often had to rely on what his underlings reported, but it was all too easy for those beneath him to lie and tell him what he wanted to hear.
Eavesdropping on pack members as they conversed over dinner, or over drinks, gave him a good idea of which reports he could believe.
From the back of the room, in a secluded area, he picked up bits of conversation. Mostly the pack was excited about Curusm.
He smiled at the waitress, who removed his empty plate. “Thank you, sweetness. The regular for dessert, please.”
“Yes, Alpha.” Her gaze didn’t meet his. Of course, the last time she had met his gaze had been when her lips were wrapped around his dick, and tears had been streaming down her cheeks.
Thatcher’s jaw tightened.
As she reached for his fork and spoon, he grabbed her wrist. “Actually, deliver it to the lodge when your shift is over.”
Now her gaze lifted to his. Her face filled with fear, but he scented her arousal. The combination of the two had him hard beneath the table.
“Yes, Alpha.” Her words were even softer this time, barely above a whisper, before she scurried away, almost bumping into another server.
The wolf in him tracked her movements. He’d always liked them a little scared, with just enough fight and objection to get his blood pumping, but ultimately, they knew who was in charge.
But nothing, none of them would ever come close to those few sweet months he’d spent with his fated mate. He’d been chasing that high for decades.
His mood souring, he motioned to Norman. “Get a takeout container. We’re leaving.”
After placing a quick call to Mercer, he emerged from his secluded spot and left Norman to fumble for a server’s attention.
Making his way through the room, he greeted people here and there. It took him over twenty minutes to leave the restaurant. He and Norman headed toward the lodge.
On the way, they passed Hara and Oz, two pack omegas. Three years running in the Curusm and they hadn’t caught a mate. They were physically useless, but Hara was definitely on his radar—the man was intelligent.
“Norman,” Hara nodded as they approached. “Do you have my money?”
Pausing, his beta grayed. “Uh, not yet.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I thought I might get a chance to win it back. Isn’t there another game coming up?”
“Yeah.” Hara’s smile was cunning. Thatcher narrowed his eyes. The omega was definitely up to something, and though he wasn’t a gambler, he’d lay odds it had something to do with his beta’s virginal daughter. “I’ll send you the details.”
“Great,” Norman nodded his appreciation.
As the younger two disappeared from view, Thatcher watched his beta. “How much do you owe him?”
“Uh, I’m not sure.” When he pulled at the sleeve of his shirt, Thatcher knew he was lying. “A couple hundred. Not much. A few good hands and I’ll turn it around.”
Thatcher doubted that, but he was interested in seeing how it played out. “How are the plans for the BBQ coming along?”
“The BBQ?”
Thatcher stopped, causing Norman to pause. “Yes, the BBQ. The fucking BBQ that the entire pack will turn out for. That will be our first impression for visiting shifters? That fucking BBQ.”
“Oh. Susan has that covered.”
“Have you checked in on it?” His tone was sharp. “You know that she has it under control? Because I remember an event, a few years ago where we ran out of food. And before that, the dinner party when everyone got food poisoning?”
Norman paled. “She’s really improved. Over the last few years, things have been better, right? She’s got this.”
Thatcher inhaled, attempting to calm himself.
Change in this pack was coming, and he had a feeling it was going to start with the replacement of his right-hand man. Norman had been slacking lately, shirking his duties.
Though the beta was correct. The last few years the pack events had more than blossomed, but he had his suspicions why they had flourished, and doubted it had much to do with Susan Conners.
“Go talk to your wife and ensure everything is on track.”
“Okay.”
Norman continued in the same direction as Thatcher. He stopped again. “Now, Norman. Go talk to her right now.”
“Of course. Of course.”
Growling, Thatcher rolled his eyes and continued toward the lodge as Norman almost tripped over his own feet, trying to change his path.
When the familiar lights of the lodge came into view, Thatcher sighed. His sanctuary.
The closer he got, the clearer Mercer’s shape became. The young alpha was pacing the length of the walkway, making Thatcher smile.
That mating pull was a bitch. And Mercer was the reason why he was the best pack member for the job he had in mind.
“Thanks for coming.” When he crossed the last of the parking lot, he pulled the keys from his pocket.
“Of course.”
Mercer followed him inside the lodge. Despite the alpha’s clean scent, Thatcher knew there was an underlying hatred he felt as he walked through these halls. It was clear from the rigid way he held his body.
Walking to his office, Thatcher opened another door and pointed to the armchair. Mercer took a seat. “What can I do for you?”
Thatcher perched on the edge of his desk. “I have a little job in mind. Something I think you’ll quite enjoy.”
Mercer’s face gave nothing away. At one point in time, Mercer had been itching to join Thatcher’s inner circle, but all that had changed years ago when Mercer had shown up unannounced at one of Thatcher’s parties.
“King’s fiftieth birthday is coming up soon.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “This week, actually. They’re having a big celebration.”
Mercer remained silent but his hands were clenched tightly together as though he was struggling to hold still.
Perfect.
“I want you to select a team—four, maybe five others—and sneak onto their territory. Start a little fire in their armory.”
Mercer’s eyebrows lifted in surprise before pulling into a frown.
“Just a little fun. We’ve got a lot happening this week, so the likelihood that they–”
“I’ll do it.”
Thatcher masked his surprise. He’d expected to have to talk him into it.
“Excellent.” He spent the next thirty minutes informing Mercer. He gave him all the intel he had on King’s pack: their location, compound, King’s family and his beta’s family. He made suggestions on who Mercer should take with him.
Once they had a rough plan laid out, Thatcher clapped him on the back. “Thank you for this. I knew you were the right man for the job. I have a delivery coming soon, so if you don’t mind.”
Mercer paused at his mention of a delivery, but continued to rise without a word.
As he watched the alpha go, he thought about the tight feeling in his chest. It was a warning, and he knew to trust his gut.
He’d trusted his gut all those years ago, and though he’d lost his fated mate because of it, he hadn’t lost his pack. He’d stopped the mutiny before his brother Harrison and Kenneth could get it off the ground.
Now, that knot of discord was back. He wasn’t sure what they had planned, but he knew he had to keep his eye on Elliot and his crew.
Sending Mercer into King’s pack could end several ways.
He could succeed. He could burn down King’s armory, he could reignite the decades old rivalry, which could provide Thatcher with the cover and means to rid himself of any traitors.
Or Mercer would get himself killed. It was one less discontent alpha to worry about.
Either way, it was a win-win.