Lowlander Silverback (Gorilla Shifter Royalty 1) (2 page)

“Maybe after the set, before we hit the road.”

“Great, just give me a heads up on your second to last song. I’ll get Nate on your regular.”

“You got it,” Denison said distractedly as he threaded a cable from one of the amps to his guitar.

Beaming with happiness, she turned and ran into a solid wall of muscle. Her face smacked right into a big, steely torso. “Shoot,” she said in a rush. “I’m sorry. I should’ve watched where I was…” She arched her neck back and looked directly into the sexy face of Kong. “…walking.”

He stared at her passively. Dark eyes steady, cheekbones sharp as ever, and those sexy lips that lifted easily into a smile for everyone but her. He stood straighter with an irritated sigh and clasped his hands behind his back. “It’s fine.”

“Hi,” she said lamely.

He took a step back and angled his face away, eyes never leaving her. His gaze dipped once to her chest, then back to her face, but he didn’t respond to her greeting. She was supposed to do something with Kong. Think! Talk to him about something. Her head was spinning from being so close to him. He was tall and strong with wide shoulders and arms that stretched the thin material of his black V-neck T-shirt. A curl of ink peeked out from under the sleeve. She wanted to lick him. Lick him. Shit. Flyer! “I need to talk to you about something.”

A single eyebrow arched even higher. Why did he only ever look annoyed around her? “About what?”

“Kong,” one of his crew members barked out from the corner.

The behemoth slid an agitated glance over his shoulder, then back to her. “Sorry, not interested in anything you have to say.”

“Pussy!” Layla clapped her hand over her mouth as her cheeks lit on fire.

“What?” Kong asked in a low rumble.

“I want to talk to you about pussy.” And now she also wanted to melt into the cracks between the floorboards beneath her shoes and possibly die.

His eyes dipped to her boobs again, but when he lifted his gaze to her face, he looked pissed. “Not. Interested.”

He turned and walked away, his work boots making hollow sounds across the floor as he strode away from her.

“Oh, my gosh,” she whispered, mortified as she escaped to the bar. Other than to take drink orders, she’d never talked to him for that long, and her first sentence involved the word
pussy
? Really? She wanted to curl into a ball under the sink behind the bar.

“Thirty bucks,” Jake sang as he poured a wells beer into a tall glass.

From their table, one of Kong’s crew lifted his hand to flag her down, and she bit back the urge to beg Jake to serve their table tonight. Because really, this couldn’t get any worse. But she grabbed the crumpled flyers and made her way back to their table. Kong suddenly looked really interested in Brighton and Denison’s sound check.

A blond man with bright blue eyes ordered them a round of beers. “Do you need to write this down?” he asked when she stood there nodding.

Narrowing her eyes at his rude ass, she said, “I think I can remember three beers.” She slapped the flyers down on the table. “My boss wants me to talk to you about Shifter Night at Sammy’s. We’re going to do it on either Thursday or Friday every week, and shifters will be able to drink free—”

“We ain’t shifters,” Blondie said through an empty smile.

Her eyes lingered on Kong, who was now frowning down at a napkin he was shredding. With a sigh, she said, “Be that as it may,
if
you were shifters and
if
you showed some interest in the shifter groupies around here, you would be able to drink for free on those nights.”

“You mean,” Kong said, lifting one of the flyers, “if we fuck groupies, we can drink for free?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked on the word, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes. Or not f-fucked exactly, but maybe an occasional finger bang or make-out session or give some tourist a hickey or even flirted or…something.”

“Hard pass,” Blondie said, his eyes narrowed to dangerous-looking slits as he shoved the flyers back to her. “We don’t stick our dicks in
humans
.” The way he said the last word was like a curse.

“But you aren’t shifters,” she said sarcastically, anger blasting up her spine.

“You stupid bitch. Shut your fucking mouth and bring us our drinks!” Blondie yelled, slamming his palm against the table.

She jumped, and the bar grew quiet. Kong’s eyes tightened as he leveled the blond-haired man with a look that raised chills up her arms. “Rhett, enough.”

She swallowed hard and picked up the flyers. “It wasn’t my idea.” She apologized before she turned and jogged back to the bar, hoping her stupid tears would stay in her eyes until then. “I’m taking a break,” she gritted out to Jake as she passed.

“Sorry!” her boss called out as she flew down the hallway toward his office.

Such bull crap. That guy, Rhett, didn’t have to be so rude. They were always mean to her for some reason she couldn’t understand. Short and clipped when they ordered their drinks, but when they talked to other people in the bar, they were sweet as punch, laughing and joking. She didn’t get it. Was it because she was human?

She tried to close the office door, but the foundation of Sammy’s wasn’t great, and the door was now off kilter by half an inch. It creaked back open as she hid in the corner beside the filing cabinet. She hated being talked down to like that. It wasn’t like this was a bar full of strangers. Rhett had embarrassed her in front of regulars and in front of the Beck Brothers. In front of her boss! She was trying to keep everything together in her personal life, and her one respite from the poop storm she was dealing with at home was this job where she could turn her mind off and just work. But being called names and getting publicly berated was just another hurt on top of a pile of shit right now.

Her phone rang from her purse, but she ignored it. It was probably another scam call. Hardly anyone had her number. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, staring at the wood grain of the wall. Her phone rang again, and she frowned. Two calls in a row was signature Mac. She scrambled for the drawer with her purse, dug out her cell phone, and accepted the call as fast as she could.

“Hello? Mac, are you okay?”

“Layla? Honey, I got a call earlier from one of the neighbors. She said there’s an eviction notice on the front door.”

Layla scooted back into her corner and shook her head in disbelief. “That can’t be. I just talked to the bank on Monday, and they said they were going to work with us. I got us an extension.”

“They’re going to take my home.”

“No. Mac, this has to be a mix-up or misunderstanding. I’ll go by after work and read the notice, and then I’ll come by and see you in the morning. I’ll bring you breakfast. What’s tomorrow? Breakfast casserole day? Gross. I’ll bring you bacon and those cheesy eggs you like. And we’ll figure this all out. I’ll call the bank, too. Mac, I won’t let you lose your home. I swear it.”

Over her cold and lifeless body was anyone going to take anything else away from the man who’d cared for her all these years.

“I got another check in the mail. Will that help?”

“Yes, of course it will. I’ll deposit it before my shift tomorrow, and I’ll make a house payment online, okay? We’ll figure this out. Stop worrying. Let me do that. You just focus on getting better. I need my scrabble partner back.”

Mac chuckled, but it turned into a fit of coughing. “Layla, honey,” he wheezed out when he could. “It’s okay if we lose it.”

“Mac, we won’t. I promise. I’m at work making us more money to pay the bank right now.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll see you in the morning. Extra crispy.”

Layla smiled emotionally. “Extra crispy bacon. I’d never forget.”

With another layer of stress added to her shoulders, she hung up and muttered a curse. Stupid bank had promised to work with her, especially since she was trying to make up for missed payments. But juggling Mac’s hospice bills from Tender Care and her own rent and the mortgage payments on the old house he’d shared with his late wife, she was falling behind on everything.
Failing
at everything.

A tear slipped to her cheek, and she wiped it off with her knuckles.

“I came to apologize for my crew’s behavior,” Kong said.

A scream clawed its way up the back of her throat as she startled hard against the space she’d shoved herself into. “Geez,” she said, clutching her chest, “I didn’t see you there.”

Kong was leaning on the desk, arms locked and triceps flexed as he gripped the edge of the dinged-up oak. “You can’t talk to me anymore.”

Layla pulled her knees back up to her chest, squeezed her eyes tightly closed and nodded. This day just kept getting better and better. “Great. Hint taken.”

Kong’s dark eyes drifted to the door, and he lowered his voice. “It’s not safe.”

She jerked her gaze to his. “What?”

He shot her a warning look. “Don’t approach me anymore. Never again.”

She wiped another tear and nodded her head. “Okay.”

Kong pushed off the desk to leave but turned and strode to her instead, blocking her into the corner. He yanked her arm until she was standing and pulled her against him. He hugged her so hard, her breath left her. “I’m sorry about whatever is happening. When you were on the phone, I heard… I’m sorry.” His hands gripped her hair too tight before he released her. His dark gaze dropped to the floor, and he looked sick when he repeated, “Never again.”

Then he strode out of the office, leaving Layla staring after him and wondering if she’d just dreamed what had happened here.

Kong clenched his fists and barely avoided slamming the door to the office as he blasted out into the hallway. He could kill Rhett for talking to Layla like that. Damn it all, he wished he could kill both him and Kirk. The punishment would be death, though, or he would’ve challenged both of them and ended this shit years ago.

“Where did you go?” Rhett asked from the mouth of the hallway. His blue eyes were narrowed in an accusatory glare.

Kong knocked against his shoulder as he passed him. “To apologize to the lady you just verbally maimed in front of everyone.”

“She isn’t yours to protect, Kong.”

“No shit,” Kong growled out, turning and slamming him against the wall. He pressed his forearm against Rhett’s neck and wanted to choke the life out of the prick. “I never said she was. You can’t act like that here. This isn’t the family group where you can just talk down to whoever you want. It’s a bar full of humans. You’ll expose us and worse. She isn’t your submissive, you fucking dick.” Kong released his throat and pushed off him.

“Fiona will hear about this.”

“Great. Tell her I had to smooth over your actions, yet again. I’m sure she’ll love to hear you snitch for the billionth time, Rat.”

“It’s Rhett, and I ain’t no snitch. It’s my job to make sure you keep your focus.”

“Snitching is your job, Rhett. Don’t twist it around in your head to make what you do noble.”

“You know, you should be thanking me. You could have way worse guards than me and Kirk.”

Guards. That word made him want to punch gaping holes through the sheetrock. Everyone had it wrong about the Lowlanders. Rhett and Kirk weren’t his crew. They were his handlers, controlling every move he made.

“Look, you were the one who wanted to leave Oregon,” Rhett said low. “I get it. A dominant silverback like you needs to roam until he’s called to rule the family group. But you decided to live in this shithole town, Kong. Not me and not Kirk.”

“Then leave,” Kong said through an empty smile. “What’s stopping you?”

“Duty. Fiona and the girls don’t deserve tainted seed. You signed the abstinence contract—”

“Was forced to sign it—”

“You signed it, and you’ll uphold your duty. And what are you fucking complaining about, man? Any male would give their left nut to be in your position. When Fiona calls for you, you’re going to be the highest ranking silverback in the world. In the
world
. Fucking King Kong.” Rhett shook his head and laughed a humorless sound. “You get to breed the females. All you’ll have to do is eat and sleep and make babies and fight. What else could you possibly want out of life?”

Layla.

Kong shook his head and left the hallway. Trying to explain his desire for a single mate to Rhett was pointless. The guard was born a diehard gorilla shifter, drinking the same shit punch the family groups fed all their young. Kong wanted more, though. He wanted to
feel
. He wanted it to matter when he bedded a woman. He didn’t want to bounce from bed to bed for the sheer goal of getting the females pregnant. Did he want kids? Hell yeah. He wanted a little baby so bad he stayed up nights thinking about it. He wanted a family of his own more than anything. It was natural for a mature silverback to crave that. But he didn’t want a bunch of kids he wasn’t allowed to co-parent with their mothers.

For the millionth time, he wished he’d been born a bear shifter. They were his friends. He had watched the Ashe Crew and the Gray Backs with their mates, and he wanted that badly.

At least if he’d been born a bear shifter, he could choose his mate.

But the dominant gorilla inside of him and the birthmark on his back had dictated his destiny from infancy.

What else could he possibly want from life? To have a conversation with an un-claimed woman without catching shit from his crew. To take Layla on a date instead of just watching her when his crew wasn’t looking. To kiss her, and hug her when she was crying. To help her through whatever awful thing would make a tough woman like her cry in the corner of that ratty office. To talk to her without having to be rude for the sake of Rhett and Kirk. They would hurt her the second they suspected he harbored feelings for the curvy blond human bartender that he’d been watching from a distance for the last three years.

What could he possibly want?

Layla, holding a baby he put in her.

Life didn’t work like that for a marked silverback, though.

****

In a daze, Layla stumbled back out to the bar and relieved Jake from making drinks by himself. People were pouring in, and the Beck Brothers were set to start performing any minute now. Nate, the cook, was running ragged with orders in the kitchen, and the minute Layla stepped behind the bar, she was bombarded with drink orders.

This was where she thrived. Good under pressure, she began pouring and serving and talking. Collecting money, opening tabs, giving change, next order. This was where she could let her mind go amid the clink of glasses and the
tink, tink
of ice, the pour of the beer spout and the murmur of the bar. When Denison’s first note rang out loud and clear, Sammy’s erupted in cheering and whistling. The Becks always drew a big crowd.

Kong and his crew were still at the table in the corner, and every once in a while, the couple at the end of the bar stopped making out long enough for her to see him. And sometimes, he was looking back, always with a troubled look to his dark eyes.

He’d hugged her. Okay, it had been borderline painful and he’d been too rough with her hair, but he was a big, muscular man who had seemed taken with the moment. Because of his aloofness, she’d thought he hated her all these years, but he’d gone and crushed her to his chest and apologized for what she was going through with Mac. And even if it had been startling and hurt a little, it had made her feel better just to have someone care for that one minute. She went through everything alone so she wouldn’t burden others with the problems she faced, but for that instant, it had been such a relief to share her vulnerability with someone else. And not just with anyone, but with Kong.

She heaved a breath as she began to pour another beer from the tap. Kong felt even more important now, but he’d told her it was dangerous to approach him. What did that mean? Maybe whatever kind of shifter he was couldn’t be with humans. Or maybe his animal was out of control. Some of the bears were like that, too. The Gray Backs had all been wild before they had settled down with mates. One of them, Easton, still looked feral. Maybe Kong was afraid of his animal hurting her, which made the most sense. That hug he’d given her had jostled her mushy human frame pretty good. It had been comforting, but rough.

When she looked at him again, he was watching her, eyes slightly lightened from a soft chocolate brown to an eerie green color as he talked to Rhett the Chauvinistic Poop Flake.

She was surprised when Denison looked at her and announced it would be the second to last song. The night was coming to a close, and it had flown by. Probably because she was lost in Kong-land. She put in Denison and Brighton’s burger basket orders to the kitchen, and when they ended their last song, she began closing out the tabs of customers who’d just come in to watch the live music. There was an hour yet until last call, but half the bar cleared out in a matter of minutes after the Becks thanked the crowd for coming out and turned off the amps.

After the rush died down, drink orders came in slower, and Jake didn’t have to help behind the bar anymore. She turned up the television again for Barney and cleaned the bar between closing out the rest of the tabs of the concert-goers saying goodnight to friends and trickling out of the bar. Kong and his crew were still here. She knew because she couldn’t keep her attention away from him for long.

“Last call,” she yelled over the sound of Kong’s crew laughing over a game of pool in the corner. Her crush was sitting at the table near them, looking somber as he studied the label of his beer. Usually, he was happy and animated with the people around him. He seemed like one of those genuine nice guys who talked respectfully to the women in the shifter crews and was apparently good friends with some of the men. Or males? She wasn’t really up on shifter lingo, though she supposed she should be. This was the biggest gathering of registered shifters in the world, right here, at the bar she worked, and she suddenly felt as if she knew almost nothing.

“Jake said to give this to you,” Denison murmured, slapping three ten dollar bills onto the counter next to his half eaten burger basket. He shoved the rest of the money in his hand deep into his pocket. Jake paid the Becks better than the last boss.

“Thanks,” she murmured, tucking the money into her pocket. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Denison said around a bite of extra rare burger.

Brighton ate silently beside him.

“Do you call shifter girls women or females? And do you call them mates? And if you find your mate, do you marry them, too? Or is that just some human custom you find silly?”

“Whoa, woman, slow down. Why the sudden interest in shifters?”

Unable to help herself, she ghosted a glance to Kong, then made herself very busy wiping down the sink behind the bar to hide the heat in her cheeks. Thank God for dim lighting.

When she looked back up at Denison, he was chewing slowly, staring at Kong with a slight frown. “Layla, I consider you a friend.”

“Me, too,” Brighton whispered.

“We’ve known you for a long time, and you were awesome to us when we came out to the public. It didn’t get by us that you were a big part of integrating us into Saratoga. You fought for us to keep playing our gigs, and you fought against the town vote to keep us out of the bar. So I’m going to give you a bit of advice.” He inhaled deeply and leveled her a look as he leaned over the bar. “That one ain’t for you or any other woman in this town. He’s already claimed.”

Her breath caught in her throat as something green curdled her stomach. “By who?”

“His people.” Denison leaned back on his barstool and took another bite. “If it’s a shifter you want, Layla, you’ll have to go after a Boarlander.”

“Denison, you know me better than that. I’m not a groupie.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s not his animal side I’m interested in.”

Sadness pooled in Brighton’s green eyes, and he lifted the corner of his mouth in a sympathetic smile. “It would be different if he was like us.”

“Brighton,” Denison warned.

The twins went back to finishing up their food, and Layla counted down her drawer in a daze. The bar was a ghost town by the time the Beck Brothers started packing their guitars into hard cases and coiling the sound system wires neatly to prepare for next week’s show. They were much tidier than Jackson. Barney paid in cash, and just like every other night, Layla called his brother to come pick him up so he wouldn’t drive home sloshed. And when she turned from the phone on the wall, Kong was there, eyes lightened to a muddy green color and wariness etched into every facet of his face.

His lips were set in a grim line as he leaned against the bar top. “I need to close out our tab.”

“Oh. Right.” He wasn’t there to share another unforgettable moment like earlier. This was business. She grabbed his credit card, charged it, and printed out a receipt.

He lifted a brief flicker of a gaze to her, then signed the receipt with a pen she’d slid toward him.

“So,” she said nervously. “The show was good tonight.” She kicked herself for her lame conversation skills. She could talk to anyone other than Kong—the one who mattered the most.

Kong gave her a warning glare, then slammed the pen down and turned for the door. “Let’s go,” he clipped out to his crew, who were watching them from beside the pool table.

“Have a good night,” she called.

Rhett turned around right before he walked out the exit behind the others and threw her a hate-filled glare. What had she ever done to him?

Baffled, she yanked the receipt off the counter and turned to the computer to enter in the tip.

$500.

Layla blinked slowly to ward off the hallucination, but nope, it was still there. In the
tip
field, Kong had definitely and clearly scribbled in
$500
, then added it to the twenty-seven dollar bar tab on the
total
line.

“Wait, what?” she murmured, lifting her frown to the door where Kong had disappeared. Why the hell would he give her such a ridiculous tip?

“Holy shit,” Jake said from over her shoulder. He plucked the receipt from her limp grasp. “I think that’s a new record.”

“I’m so confused. He never even talks to me,” she murmured.

“Maybe he just has money to burn,” Jake said in a stunned tone.

“I can’t accept this.”

“You have to. He already left, and I can’t keep it in our books. The paperwork won’t match up. Damn, Layla, looks like you just had your biggest night.”

“I’ll say. Six hundred thirty-seven dollars in one shift thanks to that tip and the thirty bucks you gave me for making a fool of myself. That will pay more than half of Mac’s mortgage.” But she couldn’t take it. She wasn’t some charity case, and she hadn’t earned this money. A tip, yeah. Five bucks. Maybe ten at the maximum if he was feeling generous. But five hundred dollars? That was insane and way too much. “Do you know where Kong lives?”