Greyson - Part 4: An Alpha Billionaire Shifter Romance (The Silver Moon Pack)

by Cali MacKay

  And every so often, Archer would bring someone home with him, someone who didn’t know about the art or who they were, and…well…he’d share. It was easy enough to find women who didn’t mind being blindfolded—nor did they mind someone else joining them in bed. It wasn’t ideal, but after the sacrifices Hawke had made for him, he’d do anything and everything for his brother.

  With her temperature back to normal, Archer knew they were taking a chance with both of them being there, since she might very well wake up. “We probably don’t need to keep her warm any longer, and even if we stay to keep an eye on her, one of us needs to go, Hawke.”

  His brother pulled her closer to him, his blue eyes dark in the dimmed light. “I know. And I will. Just not quite yet.”

  “I’ll go then.” Archer slipped out of bed and got dressed when she started to stir. And then she sat up and started to scream and lash out as if fighting an unknown enemy. “Fuck…”

  Hawke caught her, turning her so she’d focus on him. “It’s okay…you’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you. You have my word.”

  But before she said even a single word, her eyes rolled back and she went limp in Hawke’s arms. He laid her back once more while Archer sat on the edge of the bed and pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know, Hawke. I’m really worried about her. But…one of us has to go. We can’t risk her seeing both of us together.”

  “You should stay with her then. I think I might head to the studio for a bit.” Hawke slipped out of bed and grabbed his clothing, his gaze taking her in as if for inspiration. “You’ll let me know if she wakes?”

  “Yeah…of course.” Archer tried to mask just how excited he was for his twin, not wanting Hawke to second-guess things. It had just been so long since Hawke painted anything, and Archer knew that his brother needed to paint to help keep the darkness and demons at bay.

  With Hawke gone, Archer sat on the side of the bed to look at their guest, his heart still hammering inside his chest from when she’d screamed out. He didn’t know what she’d been through, but the thought of someone hurting her was enough to have his blood boiling. And it was then, when she shifted her head with a moan, that he saw the marks around her neck. Rage consumed him as he was hit with all too vivid an image of someone trying to strangle her. And what? When that didn’t work, they shot her?

  Who the fuck had tried to hurt her? Why did they want her dead? And who the hell was she?

  He got up and went to the hastily discarded pile of clothes, and started going through her things, hoping for some sort of clue to her identity. Her clothes were still wet, and cold to the touch. Grabbing her jeans, he went from one pocket to the next, but came up empty. She’d been wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, so no pockets there, but given that it was November, she’d also had on a jacket—and that was a treasure trove of wet receipts, damp cough drops, Chapstick, and a small coin purse with a small amount of money, a credit card, and a license. Perfect.

  Phoebe Nicholls, of Rockport, MA. Archer stuffed the ID into the back pocket of his jeans as he took her in, his mind running through the possibilities of who could possibly be after her. Given that she didn’t look like a hardened criminal, the remaining possibilities seemed endless.

  “Who wants you dead, Phoebe Nicholls—and why?”

  Chapter 4

  Phoebe

  Phoebe felt herself falling through the darkness, the bitter cold ocean threatening to drown her in its inky depths as she tried to swim back to the surface. If she could just grab another breath of air, if she could just swim to shore…but then Kevin’s hand closed around her ankle and he pulled her deep into the depths of the angry dark sea, as she kicked and lashed out to get free of him, his grip too strong.

  She startled awake, her body shaking with the tremors of her dream as she tried to make out the room in the darkness, all of it unfamiliar. Where was Kevin? Had she gotten away or did he have her even now?

  “It’s okay, Phoebe… You’re safe.” She turned toward the unfamiliar voice, her heart racing to realize that she wasn’t alone. The man sat forward in the plush chair, his face catching the light from the fire in the fireplace.

  “Where…where am I?” Her voice sounded crackly and hoarse, as if from disuse. And how did he know her name?

  Unsure of her situation, she scanned the darkened room to try to find a way to escape. She tried to sit up, when pain, sharp and strong, spiked through her arm and shoulder, every muscle screaming in response to the sudden movement, no doubt sore from her fight with Kevin and the swim afterwards.

  “Easy there… You washed up on the beach. And you’re injured—a gunshot wound to your arm and shoulder.” He stood up and slowly approached her, as if trying to gain the trust of a wounded and scared animal that might bolt at any moment, and then slowly sat down on the far end of the bed. “You nearly drowned, and you were hypothermic…you washed up on the beach.”

  Adrenaline surged through her body as her memories started to come back to her—Kevin, his boat, him trying to strangle her, the cold ocean, and the gunshots. She looked down at her shoulder, and found it bandaged. But it was also then that she realized she wasn’t wearing any clothes. Panic spiked through her once again, her fatigued muscles tensing and ready to fight. “You undressed me.”

  He put up his hands, showing her he wasn’t a threat, as his kind gaze locked on hers. “I had to get you warmed up. You weren’t going to survive if I didn’t get you out of your freezing wet clothes. But I swear, you’ve come to no harm here.”

  “How did you know my name?” There was so much that wasn’t making sense, and her head felt like she was swimming through pea soup, her thoughts muddled and slow to come. “And who are you?”

  “Your license was in your jacket pocket. And my name’s…Jackson.” He relaxed a little when a giant black dog nudged his hand to be comforted and looked at her in worry. Jackson gave his dog a scratch, as if reassuring the pup that everything was okay, before he turned his keen blue eyes to her. “You’ve been here for two days. We’re rather remote up this way, but the doctor should be here in the morning. He’ll be glad to know you’re awake, though I’m still worried about an infection setting into your arm. I don’t suppose you know who tried to hurt you?”

  Kevin… She had to go…had to get out of there before he found her. And with the entire police department at his disposal, he could easily do just that. “I need to leave.”

  “Sweetheart…you can’t go. You’re not well, and no offense, but if the marks around your neck and the gunshot wound to your shoulder are anything to go by, then it’s not safe for you to go home. But you can stay here on the island as long as you need to.” He reached out and gave her hand a squeeze as if to reassure her that everything would be okay, and amazingly enough, despite everything she’d been through, despite Jackson being a total stranger, it worked. She may not know him, but for some reason, she trusted him.

  “Thank you—not just for the offer, but for saving me.” Did Kevin think she was dead? Or would he be coming after her? She knew what he was like, and he would stop at nothing to see her dead. As far as he was concerned, she was his—always would be. And if he couldn’t have her, then no one would. She fought back the shiver of fear and panic that wanted to cripple her, knowing she couldn’t give in to it if she had any hope of surviving her nightmare. “You’re right that it’s not safe for me, but that also means that if I stay here, I could be putting you in danger, and I can’t do that. I really need to go.”

  “I don’t know who you’re running from, but you’re safe here. I own the entire island, and there’s no other home here. The area is remote, and the bridge connecting us to the mainland is up. But…I also think there’s a good chance that whoever tried to hurt you probably thinks you’re dead, given that you’re damn lucky to have washed up on shore alive. If you just lie low for a while, he might move on.” Jackson ran a rough hand across his stubbled chin, and it was then that she finally had a moment to realize just h
ow handsome he was. He couldn’t be more than a year or two older than her own twenty-six years, and he was tall and muscularly built—that much she could tell, even with him sitting down.

  “You don’t know him—he won’t rest until he finds me. If my body doesn’t turn up in a morgue, he’ll just keep looking, and that means I’ll be putting you in danger if I stay.” And yet…where the hell would she go? And how the hell would she manage it? If Kevin was monitoring her accounts, he’d know she was alive. That meant she had no cash available to her, unless she could get to her apartment. But that, too, was a risk, since he’d no doubt be keeping an eye on it. “If I could just stay another day or two until I can figure things out, I’d be forever thankful.”

  Jackson genuinely looked worried about her, and she swore, she couldn’t remember the last time someone had showed her this sort of kindness. “You can stay as long as you’d like, Phoebe. I honestly mean that.”

  “I truly appreciate it.” She was suddenly overwhelmed by everything that had happened to her, including the fact that she could stop running and being scared, even if it was just for a few days. Her relief was overwhelming, and she found herself helpless to keep the tears from flowing over. “I can’t thank you enough…”

  “Hey…it’ll be okay.” Wiping her tears with a gentle touch, he gathered her into his strong arms and held her close, his hand running over her hair as he soothed her. “You’ve been through a lot, but I swear, you’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you, Phoebe.”

  And for the first time in a very long time, she put her trust in someone, too tired to keep fighting on her own.

  ***

  The doctor who came to visit her the following morning was a kind, older gentleman who was quick and efficient in his examination of her. Jackson never strayed farther than necessary, and even when he did have to go, Guinness stayed behind, having taken up residence at the foot of the bed, as if on constant watch, protecting her from any threats. And when the doctor decided she needed stitches, it was Jackson’s hand that she held tight, burying her head against his shoulder and breathing in his masculine scent, the safety of his arms unlike anything she’d ever known.

  The doctor packed away his things into a worn leather satchel. “Your body is still recovering, so you’ll need to rest and slowly start getting some food into your system so you’re strong enough to fight off any infection. Also, make sure you take the full course of antibiotics, and your bandages will need to be changed daily. If you start to run a fever or if you start to see a puss-like discharge from your wound, you’ll need to call me immediately.”

  “I will. Thank you.” Rest and food sounded perfect, and truth be told, she’d been downright exhausted even before getting shot. Running from Kevin and having to constantly look over her shoulder the last two years had left her stressed and weary.

  Jackson saw the doctor out, and then returned with a large bag, brimming with clothes that he set aside not far from the bed. “I figured you might need to get dressed at some point, in something other than my hand-me-downs. Your jeans seemed to be in decent shape, but your top and jacket were ruined by the gunshot, and if you’re going to stay for a bit, you’ll need more than just one outfit.”

  “Jackson…I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you for all of this. You don’t know what you’ve truly done for me by letting me stay here.” And he’d asked for nothing in return. It was hard for her to trust people, especially after what she went through with Kevin, but somehow, Jackson seemed to have a way of easing her fears, and making her feel safe.

  “I’m glad to hear it. Like I said, you can stay as long as you’d like, Phoebe. Honestly, I like having the company, since this place can get pretty lonely when it’s just me and Guinness.” The dog’s ears perked up when he heard his name. “Even Guinness likes having you here. Hasn’t chewed his way through any furniture or remote controls since you got here.”

  She had to laugh, reaching out to give the giant dog a scratch. “I promise not to make myself a nuisance.”

  Phoebe figured that if Jackson was living on such a remote island all alone, then there was likely a reason for it. Not that it was any of her business. She was just relieved to have a safe place to hide out. And though she hadn’t really left her room, she could be stuck hiding out in far worse places. From what she could tell, she was in some sort of Victorian Golden Age mansion, reminiscent of the mansions one found in Newport, RI, built when the wealthiest of families would get away to the New England coast for their summer holiday.

  Cupping the back of her neck, Jackson bent down and kissed her forehead, sending her heart racing with a wealth of jumbled emotions. “Just get better, okay?”

  All she could do is nod and ignore her racing heart.

  Chapter 5

  Hawke

  “I want to paint her, Archer. I need to.” Hawke knew most people wouldn’t understand that sort of thing, but it wasn’t something he could deny himself and still stay sane. When he got an idea, found a subject—found his muse—he had to paint, the need overwhelming, all-consuming, constantly invading his thoughts until he could focus on nothing else.

  “I know you do.” And it was true…Archer certainly knew what it was like, and he respected Hawke’s process. “But…this won’t be easy if we’re going to keep her from knowing there’s two of us.”

  “We could tell her.” It was a simple enough solution.

  “Maybe we’ll be able to in the future, if she decides to stick around for any length of time. But we don’t know her, Hawke. I really do like her, and I want to trust her—but I don’t know that we can tell her the truth just yet, especially when we don’t know what sort of trouble she has following her.” Archer played with his glass of whiskey, swirling the amber liquid in the light of the fire. “For now I think it’s best if we just stick to being Jackson.” Their shared middle name.

  They’d played this game before. Hawke didn’t pretend to be Archer, and Archer didn’t pretend to be him. They just became one—Jackson—with one brother picking up where the other had left off. It was a game they’d certainly played when it came to women. And yet things felt different when it came to Phoebe, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

  Maybe it was because she’d been in such a fragile position when he’d found her. He didn’t like the idea of deceiving her, and yet he knew that for now, his brother was right. As popular as his paintings were, that sort of news would spread like wildfire, and it could potentially ruin his career and send the media to his front door. People didn’t like being deceived, even if it was his prerogative not to use his real name. Authors got to use pen names, performers picked personas, and yet it wasn’t the norm for fine art.

  “If you want to paint her, I think it’s great—though she might not agree to it, skittish as she is. And she is definitely skittish.” Archer finished his whiskey and set his glass aside. “We’ll need to be careful, though. If need be, use the corridors to keep her from figuring out that there are two of us.”

  The house on the island had been in their family since the late 1800s, and bespoke of the wealth that came with the Townsend name. But Seth Townsend, the founder of the estate, had been a little odd and a good bit paranoid. As a result, the house he’d built as a summer escape had more than a few hidden corridors and rooms, and since the place was large enough, it was easy enough for one not to notice that the dimensions didn’t always measure up.

  Needing to see Phoebe again, Hawke wandered into the kitchen, and put together a tray of food for her. It’d been several days since she washed up on shore, and was finally starting to get some of her strength back, though he worried that as she started feeling better, she’d also start looking to leave—and the thought of her taking off and leaving them was fucking doing his head in. He had to find a way to get her to stay, and frankly, he’d do whatever it took to make that happen.

  He knocked on her door, letting himself in once she’d given him admittance. “How are you feeling
?”

  She set aside the book she’d been reading as she lounged on the bed atop the covers, dressed in thermal leggings, rag wool socks, a tank top, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt. It was nearly enough to do him in, and it took all he had not to pull her into his arms and ravage her. “A lot better. Thanks for asking. I should be able to get out of your hair soon.”

  “You know there’s no rush. Besides, I’m not sure how wise that would be anyway. Not if someone’s still out there trying to kill you.” Hawke set the tray down on the bedside table, trying to rein in his anger at the thought of some asshole harming her. Abusive fucker. They were all the same—sadists on power trips.

  She’d yet to say anything about the circumstances that had landed her in her current predicament, and yet it didn’t take a fucking genius to figure out the basics. And though he didn’t want to push her for answers, knowing all too well that some secrets were better left alone, he was desperate to keep her safe, and he could only do that if he had all the facts.

  “It’s been nearly a week, Jackson. And don’t think I didn’t notice that I’ve kicked you out of your own bedroom.” Phoebe bit her bottom lip and sat forward, crossing her legs. “I can’t just stay here forever. At some point you’re going to have to kick me out.”

  He sat down on the bed next to her, and cupped her cheek, unable to resist touching her and knowing that Archer felt the same irresistible draw to her. “Stay, Phoebe. I like having you here, and unless your other problems have resolved themselves, then you’re safer staying here where it’s unlikely anyone will find you. As for my bedroom…” A mischievous smile kicked up on his lips, though he couldn’t remember the last time it’d been there. “There are a few ways to resolve that issue.”