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“I told him about Piper’s ordeal,” Mac informed Thorne.

“If it is, it is a totally different situation because it was the mayor of that town who was up to no good. The well-known developer’s name was being used in the scam.” Thorne replied with a frown. “Even though I don’t think this situation is connected with what happened with Talon and Piper, we can’t be sure this incident wasn’t someone wanting the bar.”

“How profitable is this place?” Rafe asked, looking around at the crowd, who were obviously there because of the funeral and not the regular bar crowd.

“Very,” Mac answered with a frown. “But if what you’re thinking is true, then this is not someone from Assjacket. They wouldn’t dare.”

“Another thing we need to take into consideration is that mining is coming back. This area is part of coal country. Thorne tossed out. “Shady dealings with properties aren’t new, but with mining becoming a prominent thing once again, we probably shouldn’t rule that out.”

“I want her to know exactly who I am and why I’m here.” Rafe nodded toward Billie Ann, who was watching them closely. “She has a right to know what she could be walking into.”

“Is Billie Ann in danger?” Zelda’s worried voice held a tinge of protectiveness.

At the mention of her name, his eyes slid across the room again, right to her. She was watching him now, a furrow in her brow,worry dancing just beneath the surface. She knew something was up. Smart woman.

Rafe didn’t hesitate. “Not while I’m around.” And he meant it. He took his job seriously, and he had a feeling that this job was going to turn very personal.

CHAPTER 4

Billie Ann slipped behind the bar, her steps quiet, almost instinctual. This had been her second home for so long that movement around here was like muscle memory. Without making a fuss, she reached for a bottle of whiskey she knew Davey had always kept tucked just behind the register. She didn’t usually drink, especially not alone, but today wasn’t usual.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she poured the amber liquid into a shot glass. The weight of everything—Davey’s funeral, the flood of condolences, the eyes watching her like she might break—was too much. She lifted the glass and knocked it back without hesitation.

The burn was immediate and harsh, coiling down her throat like fire. She winced, coughing softly. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath. “That was awful.” But the sharp edge of it helped dull the ache inside her, if only for a heartbeat.

A sharp whistle broke her focus, and her brows furrowed as she glanced around. The crowd had thinned, people slowly filtering out, their faces tired and tear-worn. She looked toward thesound but saw nothing; maybe she imagined it. Grief had a way of playing tricks on your senses.

Still holding the glass, she sighed and poured another. She didn't care if it burned twice as much. It was better than letting herself unravel. She tossed it back with a bit more grit this time, then rinsed the shot glass in the sink behind the bar.

And that’s when she felt it...that stare.

She looked up, and her eyes locked with his. The stranger. Tall, dark, and very handsome like he’d been carved out of danger and silence. His gaze didn’t waver, and for a split second, Billie Ann forgot how to breathe. There was something in his expression that was like a magnet, making her want to get closer to him.

Her stomach fluttered uneasily. Something about him made her feel exposed, like he could see through her bravado and right into the tangled mess she was trying so hard to keep buried.

She turned away quickly, trying to shake off the feeling, but she couldn’t help it. Her mind circled back to the small group he’d been standing with earlier. Mac, Zelda, and Thorne. All of them huddled in low conversation, glancing her way more than once.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew when people were talking about her.

The question was...about what?

“Billie.”

She froze, eyebrows furrowing as she heard her name echo from the direction of the kitchen. The bar was nearly empty now, shadows creeping in from the back as the night wore on.

“Billie Ann, down here, dammit! Are you blindanddeaf? I’ve been whistling like a damn canary trying to get your attention!”

Her brow lifted. “Bruce?”

“No, it’s God. I’ve descended in feline form to pass judgment on your terrible drink choices.” Bruce snorted and motioned for her to follow him with his head. “Keep the lights off.”

Rolling her eyes, she stepped inside and promptly cracked her knee against the edge of a metal prep table.

“I’m going to kill myself,” she groaned, grabbing her knee as pain shot up her leg. “Why the hell can’t I turn on the lights?”

“Because I don’t want anyone to know I’m here,” Bruce’s voice came from somewhere near the back. “I’ve got areputationto uphold. Can’t have anyone seeing me…like this.”

Still rubbing her leg, Billie Ann squinted and carefully made her way through the kitchen, following his voice. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, and there he was, perched on the stainless steel counter near the sink, tail tucked tight around his body, his black fur slightly ruffled, and his ears drooped more than usual.