Alpha's Desire, page 14
part #6 of Bad Boy Alphas Series
“So you just going to keep working in here until you collapse?” Trey asks when he comes down from the ladder. “Have you even eaten anything since yesterday?”
“Nah. I’m not hungry.”
“You’re trying to stay busy to keep from marking her. Is that what this is about?”
I wipe the sawdust off my hands. “Yeah.”
“If you figured out she’s your mate, why aren’t you over there figuring out how to claim her without too much damage?”
I pick up another board and put it in place. Trey holds it for me while I drill a screw through. “I can’t just claim her. Not without her permission. Not until I’ve proven—” I wipe the sweat dripping into my eyes and hang my head, feeling the weariness for the first time. “That’s why I’m here. To set things up so I have something to offer her.”
“Ah.”
I can’t stand the sympathy I hear in that single syllable.
“Do you really think that’s necessary? I mean, I think she likes you for you already.”
I shake my head and drill another screw in. “You don’t get it. Her parents have plans for her. She needs someone respectable. Someone she can introduce without cringing.”
“If you’re just doing this boxing thing with the kids for her, then—”
“I’m not,” I cut in. “I want to do it. It’s the one thing I know how to do, right? So wouldn’t it be good if I used it to help people instead of hurt them?”
Trey stares at me for a long moment. “Yeah. But only if that’s what you want. Not if you’re doing it to impress a girl.”
“I’m not.” I’m actually certain of this. Angelina inspired me, and yes, I am trying to prove something to her parents, but the idea is my own. And it’s one that excites me.
“‘Kay. I’m gonna take a break and get something to eat.” He waits a beat to see if I’ll offer to quit, too, but I don’t. “See you later.”
“Yep. Later.”
I’m relieved when he’s gone, even though I appreciated his help. For some reason, this journey feels personal—something I have to do on my own.
I pull out my phone and text Angelina. I texted her last night once my head was clear to apologize for running out on her. Her only answer was thank you, which pretty much ripped my chest open.
That means I hurt her when I left. And she hasn’t forgiven me.
I texted again this morning to say I still needed to stay away, but I hoped she had a great day.
She just sent back a heart emoji. That’s it.
So I hope this text will show her I’m really thinking about her.
I want to show you my warehouse space. It might give you ideas for your show. I’m working on it today, but can you come by tomorrow afternoon? 874 S. Ryndall.
She responds immediately. I have rehearsal but I’ll come afterward.
I smile like a fool at my phone. Great. Can’t wait.
Me neither.
And just like that, I’m transformed from haunted to happy.
This plan is good. It’s going to work.
Angelina
Oh for fuck’s sake.
It figures that the first time Jared wants to see me this week is the evening my parents decide to drop by and take me to dinner.
I’m sitting at the downtown restaurant, eating my salad without dressing, my stomach in a knot.
Everything about this feels wrong.
I should be over at the warehouse with Jared. I texted him but haven’t received a response. When I tried to call, it went straight to voicemail, like his phone was off or the battery dead or something.
Halfway through the meal, the cause of my anxiety finally clicks. What can I say? I’m most blind when it comes to family dynamics. I’m betraying Jared again. Choosing my parents over him. Showing him that he’s less important than they are.
Me shutting him out for dinner was the first rift between us. The full moon is a far more minor one, and one I can understand. One that’s actually quite flattering when I think about it.
I set down my fork and clear my throat. “So, I’m dating someone.”
Okay, that doesn’t ease the tension in my midriff, it only makes it tighter, but I’m not going to stop now. I’m tired of hiding who I really am from the people who raised me. Who ought to know me best.
My dad shows no expression at all. My mom raises her eyebrows. Somehow, I sense judgement from them even though I haven’t even told them who I’m dating. Or maybe I’m just imagining it all. Projecting my fears onto the situation. That must be it.
“His name is Jared. He works at the club where I dance.”
There. The scorn I expected is on both their faces.
“Doing what?” My dad asks.
“He’s a bouncer.” I fight the urge to explain more. Why does Jared’s job require justification. It’s a perfectly decent, legitimate job. No, it doesn’t require a college degree, but who cares?
My dad rolls his eyes.
“Well, everyone needs a little fling,” my mom trills.
I lift my chin. “No, I really like him, and…” My mouth goes dry. “I’d like you to meet him.” Oh God, did I really say it? Yes, I did. And there’s no going back.
“Well, I don’t think that’s necessary.” My mom’s already decided he’s not worth meeting.
Fuck her.
“Yes. I want you to meet him. After dinner. We’ll drop by his warehouse.”
This catches my dad’s attention. Real estate is something he’s always interested in. “He has a warehouse?”
I shrug. “I guess so. You know, the owner of Eclipse owns half the real estate downtown. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jared’s invested as well. He always seems to have plenty of money.”
My dad exchanges a skeptical look with my mom.
I shove my half-finished salad away from me and signal to the waiter. “We’re ready for our check.”
It’s funny how such a tiny act of independence feels like rebellion. We all have roles. Mine is to be the dutiful daughter. I don’t call for the check, because I never pay. That’s my dad’s role.
Well, I have my payout from Saturday night dancing. I pull out the bills and toss them on the table. “Dinner’s on me.”
My parents gape at me.
Yep. Things are changing. Get used to it.
I get in my parent’s car and plug the address Jared gave me into my phone. My dad acts impatient and put out the whole time, but he drives there anyway.
The parking lot of the row of warehouses is packed with cars and motorcycles. I double-check the address, but it’s the right one. At least, the address he gave me is one side of the warehouse. It’s the other side that’s drawing the crowd. A garage door stands open and bodies throng around the open entrance.
I knock on the door of the address he gave me, but no one answers. People are staring at us like we’re wearing neon you don’t belong signs. And I guess we don’t. Because the crowd appears tough. Very tough.
Are all these guys shifters?
I’m not familiar enough with his motorcycle to know if one of these is his, so I decide to just peek in.
Two burley men move to block me.
“I-I’m just here to see Jared. Do you know if he’s around?”
One of the guys leans forward and takes a deep whiff of me.
“Angelina,” my dad says sharply.
The guy who sniffed me throws an arm out between me and my parents. “You can go in. They stay out here. Your boy’s inside, but he’s busy at the moment.”
Shouts and cheers erupt from inside, like there’s some kind of show going on. I push through the crowd.
There’s a large cage set up in the middle of the warehouse and the rough crowd gathers all around, hanging on the chain links, shouting jeers and taunts at the people in the cage.
I can’t figure out what’s going on, but something makes me push forward. I’ve come this far, I need to see Jared. They said he was here.
I hear the sound of thuds and my stomach knots up even tighter. What’s going on in that cage? I push my way through the crowd.
“Where in the fuck do you think you’re going, red?” A giant, chip-toothed man hauls me up off my feet.
I shriek and smack his arm at the same time I hear a roar. From my higher vantage point, I can now see into the cage.
Jared’s in it, shirt off, sweat glistening over his muscled, inked chest. He’s fighting someone, his bare knuckles smashing into the guy’s face with a bone-crunching sound.
I gasp, sickness lurching in my belly.
At the same moment, Jared turns and zeroes his gaze on me, as if he’s sensed my presence. His opponent takes that opportunity to throw a punch at his face, breaking his nose. Blood splatters onto the concrete floor.
The guy holding me starts to carry me away from the fight, and I struggle to get free.
Jared roars—a full-on, werewolf sound—and chaos erupts all around me.
Jared
Blood streams in my eyes as I blunder toward the cage door. A hand lands on me and I snap around, driving my fist into my opponent’s face. He drops. The crowd hollers louder, faces pressing against the chain links. Beyond them, a flash of red hair—Angelina. She’s in a shifter’s arms, her small hands pushing at the tattooed brute. He laughs and lifts her easily, ignoring her angry cry.
A roar surges from my body.
My opponent staggers up and weaves toward me and I kick him so hard in the gut, his body flies to hit the opposite wall of the cage. I hit my side of the cage, razor claws shooting from my fingers. I don’t think. I grab the links and pull, parting the metal. A few more tugs and I’m free. “Angelina!”
Shocked faces rise around me and fall away as I tear across the space, hard on the shifter’s heels. They’re halfway to the door before I catch up.
I slam into the thug, tearing at his flesh. He drops Angelina and I dart in front of her, roaring in challenge.
“What the fuck?” the wolf shouts, blood dripping from his torn shirt. A wolf I know—club name Bruiser. From Garrett’s dad’s pack. “Fuck, man, I was getting her out of there for you! She’s not safe here.”
I don’t give a fuck. He laid his hands on my girl. He’s gonna bleed.
“Mine,” my wolf roars.
“Jared, wait, stop.” Trey pushes through the crowd.
“Jared?” A soft cry from the floor. Angelina’s eyes flash wide, horror reflecting off the blue. Oh fuck—she’s looking at me like I’m a monster.
Sirens fill the air.
“Cops are here! It’s a raid!” someone screams, and shifters stampede for the exits.
“Fuck,” Trey explodes.
“Angelina—I’m sorry—” I grab her. Gotta get her out. Gotta get her safe. I propel her to the door. We burst outside—the fresh air pelting me. I blink stupidly, disgusting beast, covered in blood.
“Oh my God, you’re hurt,” Angelina’s hands flutter over my flesh. Her nails are so shapely and perfect, her blue eyes wide with fear. She’s so beautiful, and I’m such a beast.
I grab my shirt and wipe my eyes, not that it does much good. Angelina’s pale face looks so fragile. She’s streaked with blood. My blood. The blood of a beast.
“Government agent. Everybody freeze!” a guy yells behind us.
My blood turns cold.
How in the fuck did a government agent get inside the warehouse? No human should’ve gotten in.
“Jared?” Angelina chokes out. She’s looking at me like I’m a criminal. Can this get any fucking worse?
How much did she see? Did she see the fight? How I lost control? I don’t want her to witness this. Not any of it.
“Get out of here, baby. It will be okay.” I start to touch her and stop. I’ll just cover her with more gore. My stink spreads all over her. She shouldn’t be here. What the fuck is she doing here?
Why the fuck did I ever think she could be with a guy like me?
Mine, my wolf howls. He ripped through a steel cage to get at her. Proof that he’s laid claim to her. Proof that I’m too much of a monster to ever deserve her.
The government agent has his eyes on me, pushing through the crowd, but I’m not waiting around. I duck outside, after Angelina. I have to make sure she’s safe.
Lights flash all around. The sirens blare, cops shouting on megaphones.
“Everyone cooperate,” Trey shouts. “This is a misunderstanding.” He has enough Alpha dominance in his voice that the spectators obey. Thank God. This could turn into a massacre.
I look around at my worst nightmare. Armed officers charging at shifters, guns out. Some tattooed thugs fall to their knees, hands on their heads. The cops swiftly surround and question them. A few lucky shifters make it to their motorcycles and roar away.
“Angelina,” a woman screams. She comes flying over.
“Oh my God,” a guy in a golf shirt follows, revulsion scrawled across his face. “What is going on? Angelina, get away from him!”
“Get out of here, angel,” I say. “Just go.”
“No,” her bottom lip puffs out. “You’re hurt. Again. I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”
“The cops are here. Angelina, don’t be a fool—” the man lays his hands on her and I grab the front of his collared shirt.
“Don’t fucking touch her.” My wolf is off his leash. My eyes must be glowing like Kryptonite right now.
Golf shirt guy’s face goes white.
“Jared, stop,” Angelina stops. “Let him go. Dad—it’s okay—just—”
“Dad?” I reel, taking in the older couple. Sure enough, the woman is petite and lovely like her daughter, and there are glints of red in Golf Shirt Guy’s hair.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My girl brought her parents to meet me—right in the middle of a police raid on my cage fight.
I remove my hands from the guy so fast he staggers. His wife catches him. She’s crying, mascara running down her face.
“Angelina—” I start when an officer runs up shouting.
“That’s the one!” the government agent yells.
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground!” The cop waves his gun. I see red again—if he’s not careful, he’ll shoot Angelina.
“All right,” I shout, stepping between her and the crazy cop, hands on my head for good measure. “Calm down, we’re cooperating.”
“Get on the ground,” he screams again. I fall to my knees. He grabs me and I let him slam me into the pavement.
“Stop,” Angelina cries. “He’s cooperating—he’s bleeding. Can’t you see he’s hurt?”
“Angelina, get away from him,” her father shouts.
A boot hits my side. I grunt but stay down. The cop kneels on my neck to cuff me, grinding my cheek grinds into the gravel. I look up at my beautiful girl.
“Angelina,” I breathe her name through cracked lips. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Please leave.”
“But you’re hurt,” she says. Her parents reach for her and she shakes them off. “I’m not leaving.”
“Just go, baby. Go.”
Face stricken, she mouths my name at me as her parents drag her away. Peering past the cop’s boots, I watch her climb into a gleaming Mercedes. A howl tears from a chasm deep within me as the car squeals out of the lot, carrying my mate away.
Agent Dune
“So was this guy taking bets?” the local cop asks him dubiously. When the police showed up at the warehouse, he had no choice but to flash a badge and take claim to the scene. He sure as hell didn’t want them in there fucking everything up.
He still hadn’t found out who the fuck placed the 911 call they were responding to, although his money was on the redhead’s dad.
And the redhead seemed to be linked to this guy.
The one he wanted to question.
He’d purposely allowed the rest of the major players to escape. Parker and the other two bookies slipped out the back when the chaos began. They were more useful to him free. He’d learn more about their kind with surveillance.
So he’d let the cops grab this guy, the one who’d been fighting in the cage. The one making a big fuss outside the building. And now he’d insisted on questioning him. In private.
Because after seeing Jared Johnson fight, he knew he was the same as Nash. Altered. Enhanced, somehow.
He gazes through the two way mirror at the bloodied, tattooed hulk cuffed to the table
“I’m not sure we can hold him on any charges that will stick,” one of the cops says. “We’ll probably have to let him go.”
“Not before I question him.”
“Alone? You sure about this, Agent?”
“Quite sure.”
Dune shrugs out of his jacket, folding it and laying it over a chair. He’s a big man, not as big as the fighter waiting to be questioned, but powerfully built and ripped in a way that shows an obsession with strength training, beyond the basic fitness requirements.
“It’s your show,” one of the cops murmurs.
“Remember that,” he warns. Checking his gun, Agent Dune saunters in.
Jared watches him, alert. Wary. Not guilty, like a criminal. No, he behaves more like an agent would. Ready for trouble from any side. Suspicious. He’s much more than a dumb guy with big muscles. He’s a warrior.
Like Dune.
He took a seat across from Jared and fixed him with a steady gaze.
Jared stared back. He didn’t get nervous the way most guys do under questioning, and Dune had questioned a lot of guys. He knew and used torture methods taught to him by the government meant to make any guy talk.
He didn’t plan to use many of them today. Not in a local police station with cameras everywhere. But if the cops had to fuck with his investigation, he sure as hell was going to question this guy.
“I saw you fight,” Dune says at last.
Jared doesn’t answer. Doesn’t look away.
“Saw you tear open a steel cage with your bare hands.”
He still doesn’t answer.
“What kind of… man… has that kind of strength?”
Jared purses his lips but still doesn’t answer.
“Someone who’s not just a man. Someone who’s been enhanced. That’s what I think.”
Jared shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
