Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
VIVIENNE
I looked up and saw Harris Murdoch glaring at both of us. He had his hands balled into fists and there were smears of black grease on his forearms and across the front of his uniform shirt. He must have come straight from work at the garage.
The sight of him made my stomach tighten instantly and I hated that reaction—hated that he could make me uneasy with a single look—but he could.
There was something ugly inside him—there always had been. Even when we were younger, before the gray started creeping into his hair and his waistline began expanding, Harris had enjoyed making people uncomfortable. Some men liked making others laugh—Harris preferred intimidation.
I felt my heart rate climb but I kept my face calm and lifted my chin.
“Good day, Harris. We were just leaving,” I said, keeping my voice cool and even.
“Oh, were ya?” He spat on the sidewalk and wiped his mouth with the back of one greasy hand. “Looks to me like you two are having yourselves a real nice time.”
The way he said it made my skin crawl. Beside me, I felt Kor tense immediately and I bit my lip. Harris was exactly the kind of man who enjoyed provoking people and though I hadn’t known him long, I recognized that Kor was exactly the kind of man who wouldn't back down once challenged.
“Come on, Kor,” I murmured. “Just ignore him.”
Unfortunately, Harris had already gotten what he wanted. Kor stopped walking and turned to face him fully, his handsome face darkening with a frown.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he demanded. “You've been running your mouth ever since I got here. We're related by Pack Law—how dare you make accusations like that?”
“Oh, I'll dare whatever I want, pup.” Harris laughed harshly and then turned his attention to me. “Matter of fact, everybody in town's talking about it. The grieving widow and the handsome young heir, all alone together in that big old mansion.”
My cheeks burned, not because I had done anything wrong, but because I knew exactly how Blackridge worked.
A rumor only had to be whispered once before it took on a life of its own and I had no doubt people had been gossiping about Kor and me ever since the funeral.
The fact that we'd done nothing improper didn't matter.
Truth rarely mattered once people decided they wanted a scandal.
“We've done nothing inappropriate,” I said sharply.
“No?” Harris's eyes glittered. “Maybe not yet.”
“That's enough,” I snapped.
But Harris wasn't interested in stopping.
I could see it in his face—he wanted an audience and unfortunately he was getting one.
Several people had slowed on the sidewalk and others had stopped entirely.
Across the street, two women stood outside the bakery pretending to admire the display window while openly listening to every word.
“Well, I suppose old Carter ain't been in the ground long enough for that,” Harris continued. “Still, maybe you’re making up for lost time. He probably couldn’t breed you for the last year or so at least—is your pussy gettin’ itchy for a cock?”
“Watch your mouth,” Kor growled.
“Oh, look at that.” Harris laughed nastily. “The pup's protective.”
His eyes slid back to me and suddenly I wished we had gotten into the car five minutes ago and driven straight home.
“How do you like having that nice young cock sliding into your pussy, eh, Pack Mistress?” he demanded loudly. “Is it nice and thick? Does it fill you up better than Carter's ever did?”
The words hit me like a slap and for a moment I couldn't breathe. Humiliation washed over me so fiercely that my vision blurred and I heard someone in the crowd gasp. Another voice muttered, “Harris!” in a shocked tone, but nobody stepped forward to stop him.
Nobody told him to hold his tongue or reminded him that he was speaking to the widow of the late Pack Leader.
They simply stood there and watched while he humiliated me in the middle of Main Street.
After twenty years in Blackridge, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised.
People had always found it easier to look away than stand up to Harris Murdoch.
Only Kor seemed willing to do that.
The grocery bags hit the ground. One second they were in his hands and the next they were exploding across the sidewalk. Potatoes rolled in every direction, a carton of eggs burst open, and the strawberries bounced once before splitting apart.
I stared stupidly at the mess for half a heartbeat, as though my mind couldn't quite process what was happening. Then Kor's fist connected with Harris's jaw and all thoughts of groceries vanished from my head.
The crack echoed down the street. Harris staggered backward, his eyes going wide with shock as blood sprayed from his mouth. I think everyone expected the two men to fight eventually but not until the Alpha Challenge. Nobody expected Kor to hit Harris first—least of all Harris himself.
“You don't talk to her like that,” Kor growled.
His voice was low and deadly—I'd never heard that tone from him before.
For a split second Harris actually looked afraid. Then his face twisted with rage.
“You son of a bitch!”
He launched himself forward and the two Alphas collided so hard I heard the impact from several feet away.
Harris was a large man—thick through the chest and shoulders—but Kor was taller and much faster.
The younger Alpha ducked the first punch and drove his fist into Harris's ribs hard enough to make him grunt.
Then the fight was on.
People scattered in every direction. Someone shouted for them to stop while someone else yelled encouragement and I backed away quickly, clutching my purse to my chest as the two men traded blows in the middle of the street.
Harris was clearly enraged, and it showed—he was swinging hard and wild, trying to overwhelm Kor with sheer brute force.
Kor, on the other hand, fought like he meant business. There was nothing reckless about the way he moved—every punch landed exactly where he intended it to, and every movement looked controlled and deliberate.
Harris managed to clip him across the jaw, and I gasped when I saw blood appear at the corner of Kor's mouth.
But unfortunately for Harris, that seemed to make the younger Alpha even more determined.
A moment later Kor buried a punch in his stomach and followed it with another to the jaw.
Harris stumbled backward while Kor advanced relentlessly.
“You fucker!” Harris shouted at him, spitting blood. “You’re fucking her! You think you already own the Pack because you’re fucking the old Pack Leader’s bitch!”
“I haven’t touched her,” Kor growled, glaring at him. “She’s a Moon Widow, you sick bastard!”
The crowd murmured and I noticed several of the local Alphas exchanging glances.
For the first time, I realized they weren't simply watching a fight.
They were judging…measuring…evaluating. They were seeing how Kor might perform in the Alpha Challenge and from the looks on their faces, they were impressed.
“Fucker!” Harris screamed and swung wildly again.
Kor slipped easily under the punch and hit him so hard his head snapped back. Blood sprayed from Harris's nose and the larger Alpha crashed into a parked truck hard enough to rock it on its wheels.
The crowd gasped and somewhere behind me I heard someone whisper, “Moon Goddess have mercy!”
I couldn't disagree. I had never seen anyone handle Harris Murdoch this way before. The man was feared throughout the Pack and yet Kor was making him look slow, clumsy, and old.
Finally several of the larger males rushed forward and grabbed them both. It took four men to pull Harris back and two more to restrain Kor.
“You'll be sorry!” Harris bellowed, struggling against them. One eye was already swelling shut and blood ran down the front of his shirt. “You'll be so fucking sorry you challenged me, pup! Just wait for the Alpha Challenge!”
Kor shook off the men holding him and wiped blood from his mouth.
“I can't wait,” he said coldly.
“You smug pup! You’ll be sorry! You’ll be fucking sorry!” The look on Harris's face as he was dragged away was almost comical. If he hadn't been such a hateful bastard, I might have laughed.
Instead, I hurried straight to Kor's side.
“Are you all right?” I asked anxiously. Now that the danger had passed, my hands had started shaking. It was all I could do to pull a tissue out of my purse and dab at his face.
“I’m fine.” He touched his split lip and winced. “Though I think he got one lucky shot in.”
“You got a lot more than that,” I pointed out. I took a deep breath and looked him over. “Well, I'm afraid that shirt is a total loss.”
To my surprise he laughed.
“Yeah, well—what are you going to do? It’s hard to stay neat and clean when you’re punching an asshole like that in the face.”
The sound of his laughter eased some of the tension inside me and I found myself smiling back despite everything that had just happened. Then he looked around at the wreckage scattered across the sidewalk.
“I'm sorry, Vivienne. I think the groceries might be a loss too,” he said, making a face.
Several potatoes had rolled into the gutter and the strawberries looked more like jam than fruit. They had all escaped from their tiny plastic coffin and had been trampled by the onlookers. The eggs, likewise, were all crushed into a gooey mess on the sidewalk.
Before I could answer, Chet came hurrying over with a fresh package of berries and another carton of eggs.
“Don't you worry about them groceries none,” he declared. “On the house.”
He handed the strawberries and eggs to me and then looked at Kor. There was open admiration in his eyes now.
“Very impressive, Young Master,” he said solemnly. “Very impressive indeed.”
Kor rolled his eyes.
“Thanks. But I think I've demonstrated my strength enough for one day.”
Chet chuckled.
“Well now, maybe you have at that.”
“Good.” Kor bent to gather the surviving groceries. “Because I'd really like to go home and eat one of those steaks.”
The simple comment was so ordinary after everything that had just happened that I couldn't help smiling.
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” I said.
Together we gathered the remaining bags and headed back toward the Rolls Royce. But as we walked, I couldn't help noticing the way people were staring.
Everywhere I looked, heads turned, and whispers followed us. And for the first time, I had the distinct feeling that Blackridge was no longer talking about poor barren Vivienne Jamison.
Now they were talking about Kor and me…and that somehow felt even more dangerous.