Page 2 of Jesse (Pecan Pines #6)

Jesse

I tossed another fry into my mouth, savoring the crispy, golden perfection as I strolled back toward the Brisket Delight food truck like I hadn’t just committed mild sabotage.

Okay, maybe telling the customers behind me in the queue that the other truck’s brisket was dry was a little much.

It wasn’t even that dry, to be honest. Just… lacking soul. And flavor. And everything else that made brisket sing.

If that truck was serving that brisket in the food truck competition, I didn’t have anything to worry about.

Colton raised an eyebrow as I leaned one hip against the counter, eyeing my half-finished basket of fries like he was seconds from stealing a handful.

He didn’t even try to be subtle.

He reached over and grabbed the receipt I was holding. His eyes flicked to the name at the top.

“Who’s Jay?” he asked.

I grinned and popped the last fry into my mouth. “Me. Just checking out what the competition’s selling.”

Colton’s expression didn’t shift, but I felt the judgment radiating off him like heat from a grill.

He was still wearing that stupid ‘I’m responsible now’ face that had gotten worse ever since he and Remy mated. Weren’t newly bonded wolves supposed to be chill?

Colton crossed his arms. “I hope you’re not stirring up any trouble.”

I held up both hands innocently. “Of course not. You should try these fries, cousin. Best part of the day.”

Before he could launch into his usual lecture about how important this festival was for the Briggs brand, about not alienating potential customers, about blah blah Jesse, take things seriously for once in your life—I spotted a familiar figure charging through the crowd.

Familiar and pissed.

Ah, hell.

I ducked.

“What are you doing now?” Colton asked, already sounding exasperated.

“If anyone asks for me, tell them I’m not here,” I muttered, crouching behind the fryer station.

“What—”

“Where’s Jesse? Where’s that heartless, no-good piece of—” the angry voice snarled from the other side of the truck.

Colton turned around without missing a beat. “Jesse’s not working today,” he said, flat and emotionless like he was reading a grocery list.

“That can’t be right! A friend of mine said she saw him!”

Colton sighed, and I could hear the quiet sound of him wiping his hands on a towel. “You know how rumors are at festivals. People see what they want to see.”

It took him five full minutes to convince the other shifter I was some kind of festival ghost who never existed.

When he finally stomped off, nearly tripping over a kid’s stroller, I stood back up, brushing off my jeans like nothing had happened.

Colton didn’t even blink. “Another angry hook-up you left high and dry?”

I shrugged, grabbing the last bit of brisket from my tray and popping it in my mouth.

“I always tell them the rules. No commitment, no expectations. They agree to it. Usually,” I said.

“Usually,” Colton repeated, deadpan.

“Why are you even here, cousin? I thought I was in charge of the truck today,” I said, leveling a look at him.

“I was getting to that,” he said, pulling a towel over his shoulder. “Before one of your jilted lovers stomped up demanding blood.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Cooper was looking for you,” he added. “Said it’s important. I’ll take over for the rest of the day. You should see him first.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. Seriously? Today was supposed to be mine. My shot to show everyone I wasn’t just the charming troublemaker with no direction.

I had plans. I had flavors. I wanted to make my mark, and this food truck was my first real chance to do that. But of course, pack business always came first.

“Alright,” I muttered, wiping my hands clean and heading toward the parking lot.

The sun was bright, the festival crowd louder than ever, but all I could think about was how fast my day had turned.

I climbed into my car, slammed the door shut, and started the engine. The road back to the pack compound stretched out in front of me.

Whatever Cooper wanted… it better be worth it.

By the time I rolled into the pack compound, I was still licking salt off my fingers.

Okay, yeah, I probably shouldn’t have been snacking on festival fries on the way here, but in my defense, they were freakin’ phenomenal.

Crispy, golden, piping hot and seasoned with something magical I hadn’t cracked yet. Whoever ran that truck deserved a medal. Or a menu collab.

I parked my car, popped the last fry into my mouth, and brushed my hands on my apron, because, of course, I hadn’t changed.

There was still a smudge of flour on my chest and probably a streak of grease somewhere I couldn’t see, but hey, I’d left in a rush.

Not my fault Colton made it sound like Cooper needed me immediately.

I jogged up the steps to the pack house, half expecting someone to stop me and say it was a false alarm. Maybe Cooper just wanted to compliment my new brisket rub.

That’d be a first.

The place was calm, like any regular weekend afternoon when half the pack was off having fun.

I passed a few elders sipping tea near the porch, nodded at them, then took the familiar path to Cooper’s office. My boots echoed faintly against the floor as I moved.

I took a steadying breath and knocked.

“Come in,” Cooper’s voice called from inside.

I opened the door and stepped in, doing a quick read of his expression. Solid, calm, no glower. Good. I counted that as a win.

“Jesse,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him, “have a seat.”

I sat, careful not to slump like a teenager getting scolded.

“Colton said you needed me right away?” I asked.

Cooper gave me a once-over, frowning slightly as his eyes caught on the flour dusted down my apron. “Did you come straight from the festival?”

“Sure did,” I said. “Didn’t even get to finish my shift. Thought this was urgent.”

“I should’ve told Colton you could come after your shift. I know how important the event is for the truck, and for you,” he said.

My brows lifted a little. Was that… support I heard?

“But since you’re here…” he trailed off, and just like that, my stomach twisted. That tone never meant good things.

He leaned forward, folding his hands over the desk. “You’re aware Maurice and Ralph are retiring soon?”

I blinked. “Yeah, of course. They’ve been with the pack forever. Maurice taught me how to gut a fish. I’m still emotionally scarred.”

Cooper didn’t smile. Not even a twitch. Okay then. Serious serious.

“They’re our longest-serving enforcers. Their retirement leaves a big gap to fill,” he said.

And suddenly, I could see exactly where this conversation was heading, and I did not like it.

“…If I recall correctly, your uncle George and grandfather Peter were also enforcers.”

I leaned back in my chair like I’d been slapped. “Alpha, I need to stop you right there.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow and waited.

“I mean this with all the love and respect in the world,” I said, hand on my chest. “But being an enforcer doesn’t run in the genes. That line skipped me entirely. I’m the family glitch. You know, the burnt-out lightbulb in the warrior bloodline.”

“Jesse,” he said, voice calm, “Sawyer and I have been evaluating potential candidates. You’re on the list.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. My brain scrambled for reasons, excuses, arguments.

The fact that I hadn’t punched anyone in months. That my last ‘official’ fight ended with me apologizing because the guy started crying.

“Look,” I said, leaning forward. “I’m not your guy. My whole focus has been the food truck. I’ve been building the menu, getting feedback, prepping for the festival like crazy. I’m not looking to trade my spatula for anything else.”

“I understand,” he said evenly.

But before I could exhale in relief, his phone buzzed.

Cooper checked the screen. His face tightened immediately. “One moment.”

I nodded, slumping back again, heart still hammering from that left-field job proposal. Enforcer. Seriously?

I zoned out for a second, tuning into the soft murmur of the call. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, okay, I was, but I wasn’t being creepy about it.

“Jackson,” Cooper said into the phone, voice suddenly sharp. “Repeat that again.”

My head snapped up.

His whole posture had changed. He grew tense, alert, his spine straight. I could hear the faint, muffled voice on the other end.

With my shifter hearing, I caught snatches of words: body… festival… little brother…

I sat up fully. Body? At the festival? Cooper ended the call a moment later, his face grim. I sat upright in my chair, tension zipping through my limbs.

Cooper ended the call and looked at me with a sharp, grim expression. I didn’t like that look. It was the same one he wore when breaking bad news to the whole pack.

“Jesse,” he said, standing, “I need you to meet with Sheriff Benson. He’s already heading to the festival.”

“Why?” I asked, standing as well, pulse starting to climb.

“A body’s been found in one of the food trucks. The truck belongs to Jackson’s little brother, Beck.”

My thoughts ground to a halt. Beck?

The name hit like a bucket of cold water. Wait. Wasn’t that the guy running the food truck where I got the brisket and fries earlier?

I wracked my brain, replaying the scene. That truck had been busy, packed even.

The guy behind the counter had looked overwhelmed but determined, focused on getting orders out. Was that Beck?

I couldn’t remember exactly what he looked like. Blond maybe, kind of wiry, quiet?

He hadn’t stood out in any way, just another vendor doing his best to survive the chaos of the festival crowd.

He hadn’t looked like someone who could be connected to something… deadly.

“Wait. Coop. Why me?” I asked, the words ripping out fast.

“Because you’re already involved,” he said simply. “You know the vendors. The festival layout. You’re fast on your feet. And if this turns into something bigger, I need someone I trust to be eyes on the ground.”

I swallowed. My head spun, trying to connect the dots. Beck. A body. A murder?

“Do we know who?—”