Pack deception part two, p.15
Pack Deception: Part Two, page 15
A little begrudgingly, she offers up a bite of her dinner and then gives Nala a firm look to say no more. Unperturbed, Nala makes her way around the table, and everyone parts with a piece or two. That is until she gets to Mason.
Mason, who is already finished with his steak.
“Sorry,” he says, showing Nala his plate. I wasn’t aware that dogs could give looks of disapproval or disdain. But my pup has managed it. Mason must see he’s on the chopping block for her favorite, so he tries in vain to give her a piece of broccoli. A sniff is all it takes for her to let out a low growl at the offending food, and she trots back to my side, where she weaves between my feet and lays down between them.
“Wow, Mason. Not even twenty minutes and you’re on the chopping block. That’s gotta be a record,” Hudson laughs, leans under the table, and tosses one more piece of steak to Nala. The traitor catches it and then crawls forward until she is between his legs.
“Unbelievable,” I huff when I duck my head under the table to glare at her. The look on her face is just as innocent as Hudson’s.
“Okay, okay. No more table scraps. I don’t want her getting sick. Besides,” Brooklyn smiles, lifts her wine glass, and glances at Mason, “We’re celebrating Mason tonight.”
When I turn to my right and peek at my fair-haired beta, his cheeks are flushed–whether from embarrassment or alcohol–but he’s grinning broadly.
“We are so proud of you, Mason. None of us doubted you for a second. Congratulations,” Brooklyn says, and we all echo our own congratulations.
And when I reach over to give his hand a squeeze, he mouths I love you. It hits me that I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I am now with so much love and happiness filling the room, surrounded by laughter, the best mates anyone could ask for, and the newest member of our family drooling under the table.
I’d endure all the hell I’ve gone through all over again if this was the result. If it led me here, to them.
Seventeen
Summer
Something wet nudges my face; I swat it away. But it does it again, harder this time, and followed by a low whine. Over and over, the nudges don’t stop until finally I let out a loud, frustrated sigh and sit up in my nest.
Shortly after dinner was over, the rest of the pack wanted to continue the celebration. They opened a bottle of tequila to take some shots, and I politely excused myself. All of them tried to object, to get me to stay with them and let loose. But I feigned feeling sick after dinner and went to bed early. What I didn’t say is that I had already spent too much time drowning in self-pity, drowning out their voices with tequila. It became a crutch–bordering on addiction if I’m being honest with myself–so I decided not to use it anymore.
Which means no tequila parties with my mates.
They all stayed downstairs while I came up to bed. All of them tried to follow me, to say that they didn’t need to drink, but I insisted they celebrate Mason and took Nala to bed with me. Nala, who is currently whimpering at the foot of the nest, turning in circles fast and darting to the closed door and back to me.
Well, now I feel a little bad for being frustrated with her. Poor girl needs to use the bathroom. I glance around the nest to see it’s empty. Nobody came to join me after their night, it seems. I was so sure at least one of them would.
I find out why a few minutes later when I follow a sprinting Nala downstairs to the front door. All four of my mates are passed out on the couches in the living room. Brooklyn on the smallest one, Hudson taking up one by himself, and Maverick and Mason fighting for space on the couch across from Hudson’s. I try not to laugh at the open-mouthed snores coming from all of them or the dozens of beer bottles they must have gotten into after finishing off the tequila.
“That’s why they didn’t make it to bed, huh, girl?” I whisper to Nala, who is standing at the front door, waiting impatiently for me. “Okay, okay. Let’s go.”
I open the front door and let her run into the yard. The whole place is gated, so there’s no danger of her running off into the road. Not that I think she would, anyway. I step outside with her, out onto the sidewalk, not wanting to go into the dewing morning grass. It’s still a little dark out, but the blue-black sky is fading as the gray and pink of sunrise becomes visible. Too early to be awake. Especially for a Sunday.
Even so, I can’t resist her when Nala comes trotting back up to me after using the bathroom, a stick clutched between her teeth. “Oh, alright. But only a few. It’s cold,” I say sternly, cock my arm back, and put all my power behind my throw. A retired police dog surely doesn’t tire easily, so I have to wear her out.
Too bad I’ve never been the most athletic omega in town. The stick makes it further than I thought it would, but she’s got it back to me within seconds; her entire back end is wagging left to right this time, ready for my next throw.
I oblige; the stick going a little further this time. But when she goes to retrieve it, something must catch her attention at the gate down by the road because all of a sudden, the hair on the back of her neck is sticking straight up, and she’s sprinting toward the gate, barking like mad. “Nala!” I yell, trying to call her back. “Nala, come.” She ignores me and makes it to the road, where she runs along a ten-foot area of the gate, snarling and growling at something.
“Dammit,” I huff, and then run through the grass after her. The dew seeps through my socks, but at least the morning chill is easier to bear as my body heats up at the exercise. When I make it halfway, a black SUV pulls out of a spot in front of the entrance to our drive and takes off.
I stop dead in my tracks as a shiver that has nothing to do with the weather spider walks up my spine.
Nala has stopped barking now that the car is out of sight and ambles back to my side.
“Who was that, Nala?” She stares up at me, no longer running for her stick. “Yeah, let's get back inside.”
The feeling like I’m being watched hits me on our walk back up, and I jerk my head back to the street. But there’s nothing there. Still, I jog the rest of the way to the pack house, locking the front door behind us. I slip a little in my wet socks as I hit the tiled entryway. But I don’t walk back up to my nest. Instead, I beeline for the door that leads to the basement. Where Wells will be. Him and Damien and Houston. It’s still early, so Houston won’t be awake for his shift. It’ll be Damien on the clock.
I knock on the basement wall as I walk down the stairs in case any of them are indecent. “Hello?” I call down, walking slowly until I hear a deep voice call back.
“Come on down, Summer.” Damien, definitely not Wells’ voice. I jog the rest of the way down the steps.
The basement is set up like a separate living space. There’s a small bar area off to the right with a mini fridge behind it. Directly in front of the stairs and off to the left is a living room. A small sectional couch in the center faces a TV, and against the far wall is where Damien sits in a swivel chair. He spins away from the dual monitor setup to look at me, and before I open my mouth, Wells pops up from the sectional, looking around bleary-eyed, clearly having just woken up.
“Hey, what are you doing down here?” Wells mumbles, rubbing his eyes with closed fists.
“Oh, um. Well, I was just outside with Nala,” I start.
“I know. I was watching you on the monitor.” Damien jerks his head behind him, where there are indeed several outside cameras loaded on the screen. But when I look, I notice they only reach as far as the gate. Not the road, so they wouldn’t have seen any cars take off.
“Oh. Okay.” Goddess, why do I feel so stupid all of a sudden? It was probably nothing. Just a regular car with a regular, unsuspecting neighbor who was leaving their own street parking spot.
“What’s wrong?” Wells asks, concern lacing his voice. Damien shoots him what looks like a disapproving look.
“Nala started going crazy, and then this dark car just took off from the street. I guess…well. Did we ever figure out where Jade was calling from?” Was that them? Goes unspoken, but by the look they exchange, they know that’s what I’m really asking.
“New York,” Damien says. “Houston’s guy confirmed it came from New York. We also have APBs out on all the cars registered in their names. They haven’t crossed state lines. Their cars haven’t even left New York.”
“But the car out front was a black SUV. They don’t own a black SUV. It could be a rental,” I insist.
“They’d still need to rent it in their names. We’re monitoring their credit card purchases. Nothing like that has been bought recently.”
Wells must see the worry in my eyes, the fear starting to creep up, ready to paralyze me. So he butts in. “They could have rented under a family member or friend's name, though,” he says, looking at Damien. “They could have borrowed a car from family or friends, too. It’s worth looking into.” They continue to stare at each other for a long minute, like they’re having an unspoken conversation right in front of me. Then Damien nods once and looks back at me.
“We’ll look into their friends and family, too. In the meantime, make sure you’re not going outside with Nala again without your mates or one of us. Okay?”
“Deal.”
The rest of the day, Sunday, went by too fast. Because my mates were sleeping off a hangover, I grabbed my Kindle and started a new book, cuddled up in my nest with Nala. They didn’t wake up until mid-morning or afternoon. Even then, they were non-functioning. So I continued to read as they all, one-by-one, stumbled into my nest, looking worse for wear, and slept the rest of the day away. They didn’t start feeling better until last night when we all ordered take-out and went back to existing like degenerates.
“You all set?” Wells asks from where he’s leaning across the reception desk, flirting with our new beta receptionist, Penny. It must be some of his best work because her cheeks are so pink they match the bright shade of her lipstick.
I smirk at him, in good spirits now that the Monday blues are over, and ask back, “Are you? I can give you a minute to wrap things up.”
His answering laugh is throaty and makes Penny’s cheeks heat up even more. “Nah. We’re all set. Already got Penny girl’s number.” He leans over the counter to grab her hand, brings it up to his mouth, looks right into her eyes as he kisses her knuckles and murmurs, “I’ll call you tonight.”
The way he says it is so sexual that I look around the office to make sure nobody overheard. Poor girl. If I wasn’t so in love with my pack, I think I’d almost be jealous. That’s how much charm he threw into it. He places her hand back down and walks towards me, where I’m waiting near the elevators. When he reaches me, he throws his arm around my shoulder and guides me the rest of the way toward the doors, pushing the button when we reach them. It’s nothing sexual in nature, his touch. But hearing him talk to Penny just now, I’m beyond grossed out with his arm around me, so I elbow him hard in the ribs and step away, shuddering as I do.
“Gross, Wells. Don’t touch me after you talk like that. It’s weird.” We step into the elevator together; he pushes the button for the main level and just chuckles.
“Whatever you say, Winter.” He’s taken to just switching out my name for each season. Yesterday, I was ‘Spring’ because he’s clever like that.
“What happened to that other girl, anyway?” The elevator door pings, letting us off at the bottom as I ask him the question.
“Which one?” Wells walks slightly in front of me, just as he has every day since the run-in with Amanda. Within reaching distance and close enough to my side so I don’t feel like he’s guarding me, but a little ahead of me so he can jump in between me and anyone who might pose a threat.
Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that he’s paid to be here. Our friendship has been so effortless since day one. More so than with Damien or Houston.
“The tall, blonde omega from the coffee shop,” I say at the same time as I murmur thanks to him for holding the door open for me as we step out into the parking garage.
I didn't even hear his answer because a car is parked next to the SUV today. One I recognize. Maverick is leaning against his Jeep, one foot kicked up on the tire, with a stunning bouquet of flowers held at his chest. The setting sun shines in from the street and lights up his handsome face, making my heart squeeze. If love were a physical thing, I’d imagine it as a vine. It starts out small and then grows and grows inside you, wrapping itself around your heart and brain and through everything vital, consuming you.
That’s the way he makes me feel, the way they all do. Just by existing. And it’s not in a suffocating way. More like the vine is wrapping me in a warm embrace, with large, smooth leaves rather than thorny stems.
A snort sounds from behind me that I assume comes from Wells at the surely lovestruck look on my face. To which I promptly ignore him and hurry toward my mate. Mav opens his arms at my rushed approach, and I leap into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist and squeezing the life out of his neck. His laugh travels through me, and his deep voice rumbles through my chest. “Hey, sweets. I missed you, too.”
I pull back to look him in the eyes, pausing just long enough for him to wrap a stray piece of hair behind my ear. The look he gives me is adoring and filled with the same kind of love I feel for him. With my arms still wrapped around his neck, I pull his face to mine and slant my lips over his in a hungry kiss. Too soon, he pulls back.
I pout at him, to which he grins and says, “As much as I’d love to stay here kissing you, we’re already cutting it close on time.”
Erm.
“Time? For what?” My legs loosen from his waist, and he sets me gently down on the ground so I don’t wobble and topple over in my work heels.
“That’s a surprise.” He hands me the flowers and opens the passenger door. “For you, m’lady.” With a roll of my eyes and a shake of my head, I hop into the passenger seat, and the door closes after me.
Through the door, I hear Maverick’s slightly muffled voice saying Wells can take off for the night. One look at Wells’ face, and I know he’s not going to be doing that. Sure, he nodded an ‘okay’ to Maverick, but he’ll just tail us. Follow from a distance, make sure I’m still safe. The wrath he would receive from Brooklyn if he didn’t is a good motivator. For anyone, even Wells in all his six foot two, two hundred twenty pound glory. She’s already made it abundantly clear that one of them will always be with me. At least until Jade and her pack are out of the picture. That’s why they’re working three eight-hour shifts. So one will always be able to get a full night’s sleep before their turn to babysit… I mean, protect me.
Maverick hops in the driver’s seat, winks at me without giving me any hints as to where he’s taking me, and then pulls out into traffic from the parking garage.
The drive is silent. I don’t ask where we’re going, and he doesn’t offer any hints. Music plays softly in the cab of the truck, both of us just content to be in the other's presence. Maverick keeps his left hand on the wheel and his right on my thigh the whole drive. The steady, firm pressure eases the tension that had steadily coiled inside me during work. Just from being on my feet running around the office all day and trying my best to absorb the information Brandon was feeding me like a sponge.
“We’re here,” Maverick says, giving my thigh a squeeze and pulling me from my thoughts of work.
I look up, and my eyes focus on where here is. The Jeep is parked in a small lot of a strip mall. Well, maybe mall is too loose a term. It’s just a few shops. The setting sun shines on the storefronts, so it’s easy to make out each space. There’s a hair salon at the far end, what looks to be an omega nest shop next to it, a tattoo parlor, and finally, a Chinese food restaurant that we are parked in front of at the other end. With a look of confusion, I turn to Maverick.
“You’re taking me to dinner?” I mean, I am hungry, and I really appreciate any date they want to take me on, but with the way he made it so secretive, it seemed like it would be…grander, maybe? Not in the sense that I’d expect more lavishes, but we went to dinner the other night, too, with not half as much fuss.
“Nope.” His lips make a popping sound on the ‘p’ while he hops out of the car and runs around to my door to open it for me. “Come on, hop to. We’re running late.”
“Uhhh, okay…” I respond, taking his hand and hopping out of the Jeep. The minute my feet touch the asphalt, he’s pulling me. There’s a slam of the car door and then a beep as he locks the door. We walk right by the Chinese restaurant’s door. Right up to the tattoo parlor.
“Maverick, what…” I don’t even get to finish my sentence. The bell chimes as we walk inside, and we are immediately greeted by the receptionist.
“Welcome to Townsend Tattoos. How can I help you?” The receptionist's voice is chipper in a way that seems to compliment his friendly appearance. For a tattoo parlor employee, he’s got very few tattoos, shockingly blond hair, and baby-blue eyes. From his scent, I can tell he’s a beta. On the stronger side, but still a beta. The shiny white name tag says his name is Jesse.
Jesse looks at me for an answer, and he must look a little too long for Maverick’s liking because I feel him stiffen at my side.
“We’ve got a six o’clock with B.” His words are clipped. Jesse looks at Maverick, sees the possessiveness burning a hole through him, and just rolls his eyes. It makes me want to laugh, but I choke it back.
“Relax, I’m taken.” Jesse pulls his black T-shirt to the side by the neck, exposing a bite mark on top of his shoulder. A very pink, raw bite mark. Given within the past few days, if I were to guess.
“Congratulations.” I smile at him, genuine and cheerful in hopes that my mood settles Maverick’s simmering jealousy.
“Thank you.” Jesse’s returning smile is beaming. “I’ll tell B you’re here.” Then he disappears down the hallway.
