Dogfight (Alpha MC: The McKinnon Brothers Book 1)

by Alana Hart

  Fuck this charade, she thought. Frankie was gone and hadn’t taken her with him. Why should she keep it up for Connor McKinnon? He obviously got left behind, too.

  He pushed a plate toward her. “Eat. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

  Her head snapped up. “Leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Frankie asked me to drive you to his condo in Boston before joining him.”

  She stared, her mouth hanging open.

  “You want me to toss the pancakes in?” He grinned.

  She pressed her lips together a moment. “He invited you to his farm?”

  He turned to her, leaning his head on his shoulder, smiled wide, and batted those thick lashes. “Yeah, he chose me.”

  She wanted to bash that pretty face in with her bare hands. But before she got carried away, she realized this could be her last opportunity. She needed to play her cards right.

  Pasting on an alluring smile, she leaned toward him. “Maybe you want some company for the drive?”

  He finished his pancakes, wiped his mouth, and leaned back in his chair, his brilliant eyes unreadable. Casey knew how to work her body to make her breasts sit just right, high and perky, to make her lips pout just so, to let her eyes fall low enough that she gave the impression of being entranced by the mere presence of the person with her.

  “You got ten minutes, then we’re leaving,” Connor said, and stood up abruptly. He left the kitchen without a backward glance.

  Casey slumped back in her chair and went to work on a nail. She didn’t care. Connor could go fuck himself; she was not giving up. Frankie was good at hiding what he did on his farm. He kept a low profile; those who knew him either liked him or were afraid of him. She sure as hell didn’t like him, and she knew what he was capable of and didn’t plan on being on the receiving end of his temper.

  Listening, she heard Connor making noise in the garage. Casey crept through the house and into Frankie’s office. She had to jimmy the door open, but once inside, she was met with the sound of silence. Books sat color coded on shelves, their musky scent mixing with the fragrant scent of polished wood, old leather, and Frankie’s cologne.

  And something else, something that smelled out of place in an office like this, but she couldn’t name it.

  Not wasting any time, Casey opened the computer, bypassed Frankie’s admittedly good security, and then searched the file labeled “Pooches.” Her stomach turned. There were pages and pages of dogs, fighters and bait, all with statuses. Some were marked “Top Fighter” while others were marked “Dead.” There were pictures along with them, heartbreaking pictures of dogs snarling, cowering, fighting.

  Her hatred for Frankie tripled the more she looked at the pages. But she needed only one thing, and she had it. The address to the farm was stored on a separate file, with another password guarding it, but she knew the system and knew how to bypass these security measures.

  She was going to the Berkshires.

  Connor called for her. She closed out of everything, leaving it as it was, and snuck back into the kitchen where she dug into a pancake and her coffee.

  All she had to do was let Connor drive her to Boston, get her car, race to the farm, and get those dogs the hell out of there without being seen.

  She smiled at Connor when he came in, his black jeans and tee shirt too snug, his eyes too curious.

  “We’re leaving, let’s go.”

  Her charade was over, she didn’t need to convince anyone who she was anymore, so she met his steady gaze, her delicate, giggly, soft voice gone, and said, “Fuck off.”

  Chapter Nine

  Connor couldn’t help himself; he felt the grin spread slowly across his face. Here was the woman behind Jenny Cartwright.

  Casey Keene. Twenty-six years old, formerly of South Boston. She had done a good job hiding her true identity. Aidan could only find the basics and he was the best hacker out there. As far as he could find she had no family, few friends, and dropped out of Boston College before ever settling on a major. She wasn’t active on social media either. Neither was Connor, but his brothers often ragged on him for that.

  Whatever her reason for wanting to get to Frankie’s farm - and Connor assumed it had something to do with the money Frankie would make after this week’s fight - there was nothing in the digital world that gave him any clue.

  She was still a mystery, and Connor didn’t like mysteries.

  He decided to hold onto the information he knew about her and use it only if he needed to. For now, he was going to do as Frankie asked and bring her to Boston. He’d tie her up and leave her in the apartment if he had to. He had a feeling she wouldn’t stay put otherwise.

  She popped a bite of pancake in her mouth, her eyes locked on his. This would be so much easier if he could show her what he really was.

  She’d be terrified and would do whatever he told her to. Or she would scream and go stark, raving mad.

  But then he would have to kill her. No one knew about them, and as long as the alphas were in charge, no one ever would.

  “Get your things and get in the car. I won’t say it again.”

  She crossed those long, bare legs, leaning back with her mug, making herself comfy. “After I finish my coffee.”

  He listened to her heart; slightly fast, her breathing a little shallow. She wanted to show him how tough she was, but she was afraid of him. Good.

  If she thought he was bluffing, she was dead wrong. In a move almost too quick to be human, Connor snatched her mug, dropped it on the table, took her by the wrists, and yanked her out of her seat.

  She yelled and attempted to pull her wrists free. When she couldn’t, she started kicking his shins with the heel of her foot.

  “Enough,” he growled, and pulled her hands around his neck, her body onto his shoulders, like a lamb.

  She screamed and bucked, struggling to get free, as he carried her into the garage. His car sat inside, the trailer with Frankie’s motorcycle attached poking out the open door. Frankie had arranged to have the last two parts sent to the farm so that Connor could join right away.

  He opened the door and dropped her into the passenger seat. Instantly she tried to get out. There was no way in hell he was going to put up with this crap for the next half hour.

  Connor shot into the car, leaning over her, pinning her back against the seat. She stared at him, shocked into silence and stillness. She smelled like shampoo and clean water and woman. His face inches from hers, he glared at her, letting her feel the power course through him.

  He spoke softly, his voice low and deep, deadly. “If you don’t stop and sit nicely, I will knock you out and leave you on the doorstep of his building.”

  Her heart raced. He could hear its panicked fluttering, the catch in her breath.

  “Understood?”

  She tucked her bare feet into the car. He nodded and shut the door. Walking around the front, she called out to him.

  “I need to get my things.”

  “Backseat.” He climbed in while she glanced behind her where he had deposited her bags. Her glare was icy.

  “You went through my stuff?”

  The glare he returned was just as glacial. He couldn’t wait to be rid of Miss Keene. “I thought you might find it too hard to pack and leave Frankie’s, so I did it for you. Everything’s there.”

  She opened her mouth, but he started the car, revving the engine. While it hummed, he met her stony frown. “No talking.”

  As he maneuvered the trailer out onto the street, Connor reminded himself that he only had thirty minutes with Casey Keene, more if there was traffic. Soon she was going to be out of his life for good. She should be thankful. If she’d made it to the farm, he might have had to kill her along with Frankie.

  Chapter Ten

  Frankie stood inside the custom built kennel. From the outside it looked like horse stables. Inside, dogs paced in their chain link cages. The concrete floor strewn
with hay, a bed and water for each dog. They ate twice a day, and only the best food money could buy. Even the bait dogs ate pretty well. Frankie’s dogs were the best, toughest, healthiest fighters around, and it was because Frankie expected his staff to take good care of those animals, and they were paid well to do it.

  He watched a big rottie-pittbull mix pace back and forth. He was one of the new dogs he’d gone to see the other day. Frankie didn’t need purebred. If a dog was aggressive, uncontrollable, and vicious, Frankie wanted them. He had a gift, harnessing that aggression, pushing the dog to desire the kill, to want to please Frankie and avoid the punishment of failure.

  His dogs were afraid of him, just as this one would be given a few weeks of training with a belt, a bait dog, and a handful of food.

  His best fighters barked and snarled at him. Were he to raise the belt, they would stop, but for now, with the fight so close, he let them be. It was good for them to get worked up, starve them a little bit more each day until the big night. When the others showed up with their dogs, his would be more than ready.

  Victor came in, spilling bright sunlight across the floor, startling the dogs into a frenzy. The big man had a grim look about his face.

  “Hush!” Frankie yelled and the dogs yelped, quieting to snarls and pacing. “What?”

  His hulking cousin glanced at the dogs before addressing Frankie. “Joey with security called. Someone was on your computer. Cambridge house. Got the alert this morning when someone accessed an email account, couldn’t get to it in time. He watched the system, and somebody hacked in again, but this time they hacked your files. Damn good hacker, too, according to Joey. Wiped all traces from the system. If he hadn’t got the alert this morning, he wouldn’t have noticed the second one.”

  In preparation for his weeks away from the Cambridge house, Frankie had sent his staff on a four-day holiday this morning. He’d left instructions for Arthur to prepare Jenny’s breakfast, and then be on his way. There was no one left in the house besides Connor McKinnon and Jenny Cartwright.

  Frankie took a belt from the hook on the wall. The dogs’ snarls quieted to whimpers and they hid in the back of their cages. Expect for the new dogs.

  “Call Connor. Tell him there’s been a change of plans.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Shit.

  Connor ended the call with the Hulk and switched his blinker on. Casey, who had been blissfully quiet for the past fifteen minutes, watched their turn pass by. She glanced at him.

  “Frankie changed his mind.”

  She grinned. He could only imagine the triumph she was feeling right now, but Connor had heard the glee in Victor’s voice. The only reason he would be happy to see her again was if something wasn’t right. Had Frankie finally seen through her act? Good as it was, her façade had slipped often enough. Or, and this made his gut hurt to think, had Connor’s bumbling attempts to hide his presence on Frankie’s computer this morning been discovered?

  If that was the case, they were both in trouble. Frankie wouldn’t know who had been tampering in his office, only that it was one of them.

  He could simply take off, avoid the confrontation and Frankie’s wrath. But there was no way to know if Frankie suspected him or Casey until he got there, and he had never disobeyed the alphas’ orders. He had a job to do, and he was capable of protecting himself.

  He glanced at Casey while he drove, leaving Boston behind. She was still grinning, her face turned to the window.

  If Miss Casey Keene wound up taking the blame for his mistake, well that was something he would have to live with. Collateral damage. It wasn’t something he dealt with often, but he would if it meant keeping his cover and finishing the job.

  Besides, what did he care about one annoying woman out for money? If she was out for Frankie’s money as Connor suspected. She meant nothing to him and he would bring her to Frankie and let whatever happened to her happen.

  Chapter Twelve

  Casey couldn’t help smiling. She’d done it. And now she was heading to the farm. All her hard word and sacrifices had finally paid off. This had been one of the longest jobs she’d ever been on, and she was ready for it to be over. Ready to never let Frankie touch her again. Ready to sleep in her own bed. Ready to wear jeans and huge flannels. Ready to be Casey again.

  But something was nagging at her. Why had he changed his mind?

  She gnawed on a nail, watching the city fall away and become a highway lined with trees. Hot air tousled her hair. Frankie was done with her, even after her performance this morning. He had sent her to his condo in Boston, had Connor McKinnon bring her instead of dropping her off himself. She was sure that once in Boston, she would get an email or letter, depending how sentimental Frankie was feeling, telling her that he couldn’t see her anymore. It would have been sweet, with just enough coolness to let her know he wouldn’t change his mind.

  So why did he suddenly want her?

  Connor put the windows up and cranked the air conditioning.

  Had her poking around on his computer tipped him off? She didn’t know how it could have. She was careful, and too damn good a hacker to leave behind any traces.

  The air in the car cooled, the musty smell of the A/C subsiding, replaced by the subtle scent of Connor. She rolled her eyes. How far were the Berkshires?

  Casey frowned, breathing deeply the scent of the man beside her. Coffee, maple syrup from breakfast, gasoline, cologne, and that hint of something else, something warm and soft and, dangerous.

  It was this scent she had smelled in Frankie’s office.

  She turned and glared at him. “You were messing around on his computer.” It wasn’t a question. “That’s why Frankie invited me to the farm. He thinks I hacked into his computer.”

  Connor’s eyes remained on the road. “Didn’t you?”

  “I know how to cover my tracks. You, old man, probably don’t even know what cookies are.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, but that was the only response she got.

  “Let me out,” she said and reached for the door handle.

  He grabbed her wrist, leaning toward her, too close.

  “We’re on the highway. Don’t be an idiot.”

  “I’m being the opposite. Let me out. I’m not taking the fall for your incompetence.” She didn’t breathe too deeply while his face was so close to hers.

  “I liked you better when you didn’t talk so much.” He released her, but stepped on the gas. If she jumped out now, she’d probably be torn to shreds.

  But she had to get out. If she showed up at Frankie’s there was no telling what he would do to her if he thought she had hacked into his personal computer. She could go back for the dogs another time, with back up, and guns.

  “Listen,” she said, trying for reasonable. “Whatever Frankie’s paying you for the bike, I’ll double it. Just let me out at the next exit.”

  “You can’t afford to double it.”

  “My father is a banker, I can afford—”

  “Enough with the lies, Casey.”

  Her head snapped to him, her shock making her mouth fall open. He finally looked at her, his eyes deadly.

  “Yeah, I found out who you really are. Which means it’s only a matter of time before Frankie does, too.” He focused on the road again. “You have to go to the farm. I doubt he knows which of us tampered with his computer, but if you don’t show up it’ll make you look guilty.”

  Casey swallowed past the fear in her throat. How had he found out who she was? Was he actually a good hacker and it was she who tipped off Frankie? Hiding under a fake identity was her only means of defense. Now she had nothing.

  She shook her head. Why did a bike builder look into her story? Her eyes slid toward him. “You’re not just building his bike, are you?”

  “And you’re not in love with him.” That was answer enough for Casey.

  She didn’t care what he was really there for. All she cared about was getting away from him and getting to her friend’s p
lace in Maine. She needed to lay low for a while. Not showing up might make her look guilty, but facing Frankie when he could have information on her was not something she was willing to do. And who was to say Connor hadn’t already told him who she really was?

  For nearly a half hour they drove in silence, the highway speeding beneath them, too fast for her to try anything. Casey gnawed on a nail, her stomach in knots. Every mile they drove brought her closer to Frankie and further from escape.

  And then taillights lined the way ahead.

  Traffic. Casey almost smiled.

  Connor slowed the car until they were just creeping along. Casey made her move. She grabbed the door handle, pressed unlock, and yanked. Connor was fast. He had both arms around her, pinning her to him. She kicked her bare feet out the door, desperately trying to jump out.

  He was too strong, inhumanly strong. She wasn’t going to break his grip, so she leaned forward as much as she could, and then slammed her head back. The impact didn’t break his hold on her, but he hit the brakes and the car behind them smacked into the trailer, sending both of them flying into the dashboard. Connor hit the wheel, his grip gone, and Casey bolted.

  Barefoot and in a sundress, Casey ran over the hot pavement, across the three lanes of traffic and into the trees on the right side of the highway.

  “Casey!” Connor’s yell came from the car, thank god.

  She ran faster, dodging trees, jumping over roots, fear and adrenaline keeping her from feeling any of the branches whipping her face or snapping against her bare legs.

  She didn’t stop until she broke through the woods and found herself on a residential side street. Only then did she take a moment to catch her breath and watch the woods behind her.

  Nothing. Connor hadn’t followed her. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get off at the next exit and come find her. He might be better off letting her escape; it made her look guilty and got him off the hook with Frankie. Unless Frankie got pissed that Connor let her get away.