Touching my hair.
Molding his body against mine to loosen the bolt, those military dog tags he wears clinking softly between us.
The big brawny jerk makes my knees go weak.
And I’m not usually what they call boy-crazy. In fact, when I moved to Cave Hills to live with my aunt and cousin, I told everyone I had a serious boyfriend back home just to keep myself out of the dating pool. After the mafia guy’s men showed up, it became even more important that I not get too close to anyone. Those maniacs will go after anyone.
I don’t have time for boys. Not when I have to steal a car every few weeks to feed the mafia monster.
Besides, me getting close to someone would only make them a target, as I learned last week with the asshole’s threat against my cousin.
I stop and wipe my forehead. The air’s getting hot—October in Arizona still feels like a summer day back in Michigan. Or maybe I’m just hot from having Muscles spooning me from behind.
“Harder than you imagined?” It’s not quite a jeer, so I answer honestly.
“Yeah. I don’t know if I could do it on my own. Not if the bolts are that tight.”
He tips his head. “I’m sure you could pay a guy a hundred bucks an hour to loosen bolts.”
“Are you offering?”
“Nope. I’m staying the hell away from all the trouble you bring. That’s the only reason I’m teaching you right now, Legs. I want your operation out of this shop.”
That shouldn’t hurt my feelings. It’s exactly what I want, too. And yet the familiar sensation of being unwanted hits me squarely in the chest.
I’ve always been trying to prove I’m worth keeping. My mom died in childbirth, and even though my dad never came out and said it, I know he blamed me. So I worked hard to make him happy. To not be any trouble. To make him believe her death wasn’t for nothing.
But it never worked.
And now he’s dead, too, and I’m trying to be invisible in my aunt’s house. Trying to make up for his crimes with crimes of my own.
He cocks his head, studying me, and I get the irritating notion he read my hurt, even though I have a stellar poker face.
Of course, that pisses me off. I flip the socket wrench in the air and catch it. “Why don’t you show off a little, Muscles, and loosen the rest of them?”
He wanted me to ask for help? I’ll ask.
The sooner I get this over with and get away from his scrutiny, the better. I am very much doubting my ability to do this on my own—I should just throw in the towel now.
He smirks and takes the wrench. In about five seconds, he loosens every bolt and sets the socket wrench down. Then he removes the hoses and drains the fluids into a pan he shoves below.
“Hey princess, go empty this in the barrel inside.” He thrusts the pan of fluids at me.
I try not to show my distaste at touching the grimy pan and my fear of it sloshing all over me.
Maybe I really am a princess.
I gingerly take the dripping pan and hold it out in front of me to go in.
When I get back, the car is up on jack stands.
Which doesn’t make sense.
I didn’t hear him start the engine—hell, I already know the thing doesn’t drive, or I wouldn’t have had to tow it here.
“How’d you get the car up there?”
“I pushed it.”
Dayum. That definitely gets me hot and bothered. This guy may still be in high school, but he’s about as manly as they get. I mean, he’s over six feet of solid muscle, he knows his way around a car and back, and apparently can single-handedly push them around his garage with total ease.
My body tingles with some primitive reaction to his physical prowess. Like the cave girl in me just realized he would be the very best choice for a mate. Not only would we make beautiful babies—not that a cave girl thinks about that—but he’d be able to beat off our predators with a club and make sure we survived through the winter.
“Did that excite you?”
I scoff, but search his face. Again, I didn’t think I was showing anything in my expression.
Turns out, it wasn’t my expression that gave me away.
Bo is staring at the twin points of my nipples, jutting through my sports bra and t-shirt.
I fold my arms across my chest. “As if. Listen, I think you’re right. This is more than I can handle. How about I just pay you for the hour and get out of your hair?”
He saunters over to me. He has this casual way of moving. It’s strange to watch a guy so big move with so much grace and ease. “Okay.” If I didn’t know better, I would say he sounds disappointed. “I’ll take your money. How are you getting home?”
I fully planned on calling an Uber. I really did.
I don’t even know what comes over me when I tip my face up and turn my flirt on. “Feel like a drive to Cave Hills?”
He plucks the one hundred dollar bill out of my fingers, and I get the feeling it’s a lot of money for him.
Not that it’s not to me, but I’ve been dealing in huge deficits and big payments. I’m getting used to handling large amounts of cash.
Spoken like a true criminal.
“It’ll cost you,” he tells me. I think he’s going to ask for more money, but he surprises me by getting real. “Take your next car somewhere else, Legs. We can’t handle this kind of heat here. My brother acts tough, but he’s in over his head, and I’m guessing you are, too. So after this one, retire. Or find a new mechanic. Just don’t come back. Understand?”
For some reason, I can’t breathe with him standing so close. He’s not threatening me, but I almost prefer his snarl over this honest appeal. And again, I experience a sense of rejection, which is totally stupid.
“Sounds like Uber would be cheaper.”
He drops his head to the side. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that. Get on the bike, Legs.”
I don’t know why the stupid nickname is starting to grow on me. It’s totally derogatory to refer to a female by one of her body parts. And yet my chest gets warm when he says it, like I’m celebrating the fact that he’s given me a pet name.
Utterly ridiculous.
I’m also celebrating him taking me home. Which is even more ridiculous. Being attracted to a guy who thinks so little of me is a problem. A total mistake.
So getting excited about nesting behind him on his bad ass bike is an even bigger mistake, but here I am, doing exactly what he said. Getting on his bike and putting on the helmet as I watch him lock up the shop.
And I shouldn’t get so fluttery imagining I’m so special because he closed Wolf Ridge Body Shop during store hours to drive me home, but I do.
I get off the bike to give him room to get on and then throw my leg over the seat to sit behind him. He has the nerve to thump my thigh like I’m his horse before he kicks the motorcycle to life and lurches out of the parking lot.
I catch my breath and cling to him, my body a live wire of tension and excitement.
Like this drive is going to end in something far more than me getting off and walking in my house.
Like this drive means anything at all.
Like meeting Bo Fenton isn’t the only bright spot under this cloud of darkness that’s engulfed me ever since my dad went to jail.
Christ, I need to get my head on straight. I have to raise six gold bars worth of money, whatever that is, or my cousin and I will both be sold to sick perverts with bankrolls who make real life torture porn as a hobby. This is no time to fall for the cocky jerk who treats me like dogshit and drives a bike like a dream.
Chapter 4
Three weeks later
Bo
On the day everything goes to shit, you don’t wake up thinking, Today my whole life changes...
Sheriff Gleason’s tires screech as he whips into the school parking lot, gets out, and jogs to meet Coach at the side of the field.
“Fenton!” Coach laces every bit of wolf authority in his voice when he yells my
name during practice. He’s standing with the sheriff on the side of the field, and a wave of foreboding flashes through me.
I pull off my helmet and stalk over.
“Get in the car,” the sheriff demands.
“Why?”
Coach is beside me, his big palm on my nape a warning. “It’s Winslow.”
“Fuck.”
You know how they say time stands still in moments of crisis?
Well it was like that, except the opposite. Time speeds up. Or just disappears—I don’t know. The world seems to whirl around me, but I can’t make sense of any of it.
Sheriff Gleason is here. Coach’s hold on me is crushing and should be an anchor, but it’s propelling me to the back of a cop car. I don’t want to get in. I know Winslow is in trouble, but why am I getting hauled in? But I don’t ask any of the million questions blazing through my mind. I climb in the back of the squad car. The door slams. Sheriff Gleason drives me to his office where my mom and Uncle Greg sit waiting, looking like someone died.
“What is it?” I demand. “What happened?”
“Your brother got caught by human police selling a stolen vehicle today, son,” Sheriff Gleason says. “He resisted arrest.”
“And they shot him!” my mother bellows, tears streaming down her face.
My gaze snaps to the sheriff for verification, and he nods. “They thought he was drawing a weapon. He was shot but still escaped. Which means he’s probably fine.”
“How do we know? What if he was shot in the head?” my mother cries.
“Then they would’ve found a body,” Sheriff Gleason reasons. And while his logic is sound, mentioning body to my mother was a mistake because she breaks down in sobs again.
Winslow’s a shifter, like everyone in this room, which means chances are extremely high he’s fine. He probably shifted to push the bullet out and to speed his healing and ran for the mountains. My mom knows that, but she still has PTSD from my dad’s death, and shit like this upsets her.
I walk over to her, and she stands up and throws herself at me.
I wrap her up in my arms and squeeze. She’s a foot shorter than I am and thin from hard work and the pain of living after losing her mate.
I kiss the top of her head. “It will be all right, Mom. Winslow’s fine.”
My mom pushes me away. “Do you know something?” She uses her most fierce mama wolf voice, and I take a step back.
I don’t want to lie.
I definitely don’t want to lie.
But like I said before, I won’t throw Winslow under a bus with pack elders, which means my mom and great uncle and the sheriff.
And the damn alpha.
I almost groan when Alpha Green strides in, eyes narrowed, his aging body radiating power. I stifle the involuntary shiver that runs through my body to be in his presence.
“Alpha Green,” I mutter, keeping my eyes down and my throat exposed.
“Everyone into my office,” Sheriff Gleason commands.
My mom shoots me a look of pure betrayal as we all shuffle in, and my stomach drops to my shoes.
Sheriff Gleason’s office feels too small for all of us—mainly because Alpha Green’s sheer force of will fills the place. Plus, he and the sheriff are big guys, and I’m almost full grown myself.
Uncle Greg looks old—so old—as he scrubs a hand across his greying stubble.
My mom appears destroyed, and that’s the part that fucking kills me. It makes me want to tear this room apart. As if that would help.
A silence descends and everyone focuses on the alpha. Who focuses on me.
I swallow.
“What do you know about this, Bo?”
Fuck. He has an incredible ability to instill fear. It’s some primitive pack biology. He looks, I quiver.
I may think I’m a big man. I may scare the shit out of the little football players from other teams. But in here, I’m just a kid. I have no power and barely a will of my own.
I try to stick to the truth. With a slow, sorry shake of my head, I say, “I wasn’t part of it.”
“You better not have been a part of it!” my mother splutters as my uncle growls, “Damn straight.”
“That wasn’t the question, son,” the sheriff has to point out.
Damn the shaking. There’s no hiding it—every wolf in here will smell my fear.
“I suspected it,” I say. Again, not a lie. No one confirmed or denied the operation to me. I look over at my uncle. “The Porsche. And the Mercedes.”
“Yeah,” Uncle Greg says dryly. “I figured that much out.”
“Is he stealing the cars?” the sheriff demands.
I draw in a breath, then shrug. “I don’t think so,” I mumble. Covering for Winslow has been part of my M.O. since I was a tot. I don’t know why I’m dead set on not revealing Sloane’s involvement, though.
“So who is?” Alpha Green wants to know.
This is the fucking hard part. The impossible part. My will against alpha will.
I drop my eyes and scuff my huge red Nike hightops on the floor. “I don’t know,” I lie.
I lift my eyes and take in four dubious faces. I’m sure they think it was Ben Thomasson, my brother’s no-good friend who he’s been helling around with since the beginning of time. Or some human gang situation.
“Tell me everything you know about this, right now,” Alpha Green demands with alpha power. Aggression plows me in the center of the chest. No one moves, yet I feel it hit me in the sternum and push me back in my seat. It’s not just from the alpha—it’s from every male wolf in the room.
Only my mom looks at me with trust shining in her eyes.
She’s always believed in me. Always hung her hopes on my success. That’s why she wants me to go to college. Get ahead in the pack.
I clear my rusty voice. “I don’t know anything, sir. Like I said, I suspected, but Winslow purposely kept me out of it. He told me to mind my own business when I brought it up.”
Alpha Green stares a hole into me so large a fist would fit through it. He knows I’m holding something back, and he’s pissed as hell.
“Well, if you get in touch with Winslow, give him my message—he needs to come before council in the next twenty-four hours, or he’s banished.”
My mom chokes back a sob.
And he’s banished is probably more like it. I’m sure council’s edict would be for him to turn himself in or be banished, anyway.
“I’ll tell him, sir. If I hear from him.”
Alpha Green’s still giving me the death glare. “Bo, if I ever hear you were a part of this operation or if you become a part of this operation, son…”
“I’m not. You won’t. I swear to fate,” I interrupt.
He lifts his chin. “Go.”
I stand up. No one else moves, so I guess I’m the only one dismissed. Or the adults are going to discuss me when I leave. Fuck.
I walk out. My bike’s still at school, so I text Wilde for a pick up. He and the other alpha-holes are blowing up my phone to find out what happened.
While I stand there, my mind whirls around what to do.
And every thought is centered around Sloane. That Cave Hills bitch who brought all this shit down. I’m going down there, right fucking now, to have a word with her.
A few words.
Austin, Wilde and Slade pull up in Wilde’s Jeep and yank me in on a rolling stop.
Cole isn’t with them—probably because he’s only about Bailey now and has been since the full moon run, when my asshole brother and his friends cornered and attacked her, and we had to fight them off—in wolf form.
Which means she knows what we are.
I honestly don’t know how Cole’s gonna handle that shit with the alpha, but so far, none of us have breathed a word. Not Winslow and his buddies—because they were at fault. And definitely not us.
I’ve literally been best friends with these guys since I was born. They are more like brothers to me in terms of having my back
than Winslow will ever be. In fact, most of the time, it’s been us against Winslow and his buddies, who were always hell on wheels.
“What happened?” Wilde demands immediately.
“Fucking Winslow. Got shot by human cops trying to sell a stolen car. I guess they thought he was drawing a weapon.”
Austin whistles. “Where is he?”
“Don’t know. He ran. We’re assuming he’s fine. If he were shot in the head, the cops would’ve found him.” Unless a bullet is made of silver, it won’t stop a wolf. Not unless it blows his brains out. Not even a wolf can recover from that shit.
I realize Wilde is driving toward my house. “Hang on. Take me back to school. I need to get my backpack and bike.”
“You sure? I can drive you to school tomorrow.”
“I’m sure. I need my bike now. I have something to do. And you guys? I may not be in school tomorrow, but cover for me, and tell Coach I’ll make it to the game, if he’ll let me play.”
I have a half-baked plan of how to fix this shit. And it involves getting so far up in Sloane’s business she’ll rue the day she stepped in Wolf Ridge.
“He’ll let you play,” Wilde promises, even though it would be a violation of district rules. You have to be in school that day if you want to participate in any sporting event.
Wilde whips into the school parking lot and parks by my bike.
“Thanks,” I call, already halfway out.
“You going after the girl?” Wilde calls out. Because true friends know what you’re going to do before you even do.
“Yep.”
“Give her hell!” Austin yells with a grin.
“Oh, I will.”
I’m coming for you, Legs.
And there will be hell to pay.
* * *
Sloane
I win first place at the Cave Hills Cross Country Invitational and jog it off to cool down before I go back to cheer on my teammates. It’s past dinnertime, and my stomach’s starting to complain as the sunset paints the craggy rocks of Wolf Ridge pink and purple.
This is my favorite time of day in Arizona. There’s nothing like the way the mountain glows.
Alpha Knight Page 4