Haven City Series Books 7-9: Alpha's Gamble (Haven City Series #7), Alpha Enchanted (Haven City Series #8), Alpha's Cage (Haven City Series #9)

by Zoe Perdita

  Tyler fumbled with his packet of cigarettes, and almost lit one before Ken grabbed it and snapped it in half. The scent of tobacco stung his nose. “No smoking around me.”

  Tyler didn’t argue with that.

  When they got to the condo, Davis wasn’t there, but now Ken had an idea why. He let Tyler take the couch, and Ken tossed the blanket over him and settled in the chair.

  “Where’s Davy?” Tyler asked wearily. He hadn’t called his brother that since he was in elementary school, Ken remembered, and it made the remainder of his heart ache.

  “Where do you think? He’s gambling and fucking a whole group of strippers – however that works,” Ken muttered to the ceiling.

  Tyler huffed. “Figures.”

  Yeah. It really did.

  And Ken was the idiot who couldn’t let Davis go.

  Tyler was still asleep when Ken got ready for work the next morning. He barely stirred on the couch, and Ken left him there. He’d call Felan Cage, Tyler’s sponsor, and make sure Tyler got his ass to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting before the day was out.

  At the moment, Ken stared at a spreadsheet on his computer and tried to get his eyes to focus enough in order to audit it. They stung, and no matter how many times he blinked, it didn’t work. Ken couldn’t keep from thinking about Davis and why he hadn’t come home the night before. What should he do about it?

  Kick Davis to the curb?

  Well, that wasn’t really fair.

  He wasn’t actually Ken’s mate, no matter what they told Jin Yue.

  Wait!

  Davis made terrible decisions, but he knew better than to further mess with a mobster Dragon, especially one who thought Ken and Davis were mates. Davis wouldn’t mess around with strippers while under Jin’s watchful eye. That thought curled into a cold ball of dread in Ken’s chest. Davis wasn’t that stupid, no matter what else he did. That meant whoever answered the phone may have been lying or Davis was in serious trouble.

  Carolyn leaned her plump hip against his desk, and set down a steaming mug of coffee. “How was the date with Sam? Oh, and you look like you didn’t get any sleep last night. It went that well, huh?”

  Ken started and fought the urge to grab his cell and call Davis again. He wrapped his fingers around the coffee mug instead. “What?”

  Carolyn, her blond hair swept into a neat French twist, raised a sculpted eyebrow. “The date with Sam. How did it go? Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, just need a little break. You taking yours now?” he managed and forced a smile.

  “I’m standing at your desk, am I not? Spill or you don’t get any cookies,” she said and nudged Ken’s loafer with her sensible flat.

  She probably meant it too. She always smelled a little like baking.

  Ken sighed and shrugged. “It was fine, but I don’t think we’ll go out again. It’s just not going to work.”

  She snorted into her coffee. “Really? After you haven’t been able to shut up about him for the last month, now it’s not going to work. How do you figure?”

  How the hell did he explain without bringing up Davis? And, where the hell was Davis if he probably hadn’t fucked a whole room full of strippers (or hookers) the night before? “Just a hunch. He can’t cut a steak, and he rips up his bread. And he talks about himself all the time. If I’m on a date, I don’t want to talk about work.”

  An easy smile lit up Carolyn’s eyes, and she laughed. “Those sound like the kind of excuses I make up. Wow. Either we’ve been spending too much time together, or you’re full of it.”

  “Those are my only options?” Ken asked before he sipped the coffee. Two creams, just like he took it.

  She shrugged. “What’s option number three?”

  Davis.

  “I’ve got to use the restroom,” Ken said and stood. He slipped his phone into his palm as he did so.

  “Okay. But I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. We’re going out next weekend,” she said and sauntered back to her desk.

  Ken didn’t respond. His hands shook as he neared the bathroom and stepped inside.

  Martin stood at the urinal, and the omega urged Ken to knock the asshole out so he could call Davis. Fuck! He pressed the number anyway, no matter who heard.

  This time Davis’s phone went straight to voicemail.

  Shit!

  What was he supposed to do? He didn’t have Mikhail’s number or the number of the club. Hell, Ken didn’t even know how to get a hold of Jin Yue, not that he wanted to, but who the hell else could help him in this situation? Maybe if he called Sullivan’s—yeah. Right after he was a total dick to Rory. But at least Rory knew how to get a hold of Jin.

  Ken charged out of the bathroom without using it. On his way back to his desk, his mind swam with all the terrible thoughts of what might’ve happened to Davis and how the hell he could save the damn alpha this time.

  He could be dead somewhere, and Ken wouldn’t even know.

  “Ken! Someone’s here to see you,” Carolyn said as he walked past her desk.

  He stopped and stared. “What? Who?”

  She shrugged. “If he has something to do with why you’re over Sam, I don’t blame you. He’s hot, even with all the bruises.”

  Bruises?

  “Where?” Ken breathed, heart slamming.

  “Sandra sent him to the conference room,” she said, and Ken nearly ran as soon as the words left her lips.

  His fellow co-workers probably thought he’d gone insane, and his boss would no doubt call Ken to her office for a chat about his erratic behavior. Perhaps he’d even get reprimanded. But none of that mattered if Davis was alright.

  His fingers twitched as he reached the conference room. The blinds were drawn, so no one could see inside, but Davis’s musk hung on the air mixed with something unpleasant.

  Ken threw the door open.

  Davis slumped at the table with a cup of coffee in front of him. His cheek and jaw were puffy and blue. A cut ran over his left brow, the blood dried, but his eyes sparked when Ken rushed inside.

  “Hey. I lost my phone, so I came by the office to see you. And to make sure you didn’t worry and do anything stupid to find me.”

  He had to hear the frantic throb of Ken’s heart, but Davis didn’t mention it. Instead, his lips quirked into that charming lopsided grin, and he sipped the coffee.

  Ken gaped. “Where were you and what happened? And why do you smell like fish and—uh—whatever that is? And what are you wearing?”

  Davis didn’t have his old brown leather jacket. Instead he wore a sweater covered in a rainbow of flowers that was tight on his arms. The pants were blue and much too short in the legs. They showed off his socks and the scuffed loafers. None of those things belonged to Davis, which meant he’d lost his own clothes. He’d shifted at some point last night. More importantly, why did he shift?

  “The smell is river water. Let me tell you, it’s just as cold and unpleasant as it sounds. Probably more so, actually. And before you judge me, and tell me I screwed up—”

  Ken didn’t let Davis finish that sentence. He took three long strides to cover the space between them, then he fell into Davis’s lap and squeezed him. The smell was worse up close, but Ken didn’t care.

  Davis flinched and let out a slight whimper. “Hey, I’m okay. Except I think my rib is cracked. Other than that, I’m good. Mostly. The clothes were a gift. Martha’s husband passed last year, and she had some of his things to give away. Although, I’m sure the sweater is hers. Either way, it’s better than walking around naked.”

  “Who’s Martha? And what happened?”

  Davis’s hands rested on Ken’s hips heavily. They clung there, as if Davis didn’t want Ken to move.

  Ken didn’t want to move even if this was all sorts of inappropriate at work.

  Davis took another sip of the coffee and some color returned to his face. Upon closer inspection, Davis looked much worse for the wear. His lips were parched and his skin drawn, especi
ally around his eyes. A number of small nicks covered his left cheek, and under the scent of fishy river water was the strong hint of blood.

  “Martha is a lovely woman with a houseboat. She saw me floundering and had mercy, but I couldn’t remember your number so I couldn’t call. And it was really early in the morning when she found me. So I stayed with her. She offered to drive, but I didn’t want her to miss breakfast with her grandson.”

  That didn’t explain much. At all. “Fine, but how did you end up in the river?”

  If Davis said he cheated at seka and the bears threw him in. . .

  The spark in Davis’s eyes faded, just enough that Ken noticed. “Well, that’s the thing. This Russian prostitute propositioned me, and I said no. Then her pimps, two bears, decided I offended them, and they jumped me outside the club. I shifted. We fought and ended up in the water. I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear. No cheating. I lost fair and square to that stupid tiger, but the fight happened after the game. No one else was around so. . . .”

  His voice trailed off, and Davis’s hand moved from Ken’s hip to his cheek. His calloused thumb brushed a piece of hair from Ken’s brow, and Ken’s breath clogged his throat.

  “So what?” Ken asked and wondered when they’d gotten so close. How every breath he took flowed into Davis and vice versa.

  “I was drowning. This bear had his claws in my flank, and he pulled me down with him, but all I thought about was you and making everything right again. I never wanted to die, obviously, but this was worse. Because if I died now—”

  Ken didn’t let him finish that sentence. His heart couldn’t take another look like the one Davis gave him—full of regret. Without thinking, he moved in. Pressed his mouth to Davis’s, which was rough and wet, but as warm and welcoming as it’d been before.

  The hand on his cheek wound into his hair, and Ken’s fingers dug into Davis’s strong shoulders, the muscle thick under his palms. The sounds from the office faded under the beating of their hearts and the thick rasp of breath. If the hand job in the kitchen was a bad idea, this was worse, but Ken didn’t want to pull away.

  Davis’s tongue felt like velvet against his, needy and probing with just the perfect amount of pressure.

  Then it pulled back, and Davis pressed his forehead to Ken’s, and Ken readied himself for the rest of his heart to turn to dust and blow away in a stiff wind.

  However, Davis only smiled. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” Ken said and blinked.

  Backed up.

  He stood and wiped his damp palms on his slacks. “I should get back to work. And you – oh, fuck. Tyler. You should get back to the condo and take care of Tyler.”

  “What happened to Ty?” Davis asked.

  Ken took a steadying breath and explained what had happened the night before.

  Davis’s expression darkened, and he stood with a hand clamped to his side. Right! He had a cracked rib, and Ken expected him to take care of Tyler. What Davis needed was a healer.

  “Look. I’ll take the rest of the day off and call Ty’s sponsor myself. You need to rest if your rib is hurt.”

  But Davis shook his head and gently kissed Ken’s brow. “I said I came back to fix things, and I meant it. You cut your date short to deal with Ty last night, now it’s my turn. I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle. But I’ll need the number of the sponsor.”

  Ken wasn’t going to lie, not even to himself, that giving Davis this kind of responsibility (or any kind of responsibility, really) felt odd. Ken’s entire being itched to go with Davis and do it himself, but he took a deep breath and told himself to trust his friend.

  If he wanted Davis to fix things, he had to give the alpha a chance to try.

  “Okay. Yeah. His sponsor is an alpha at the local university. If you call, he’ll be over as soon as he can. And, I guess I’ll see you tonight. Do you need cab fare home?”

  “The tram goes most of the way,” Davis said with a tight smile.

  “I could take off work. It’s not a big deal,” Ken burst out, and Davis’s eyes crinkled warmly.

  “I’ll see you tonight. Might even cook dinner. Go back to work. I can deal with this. I think,” Davis said as he limped toward the door.

  Oh hell. He had a limp too?

  Ken scowled, not at Davis, but at his own inability to let someone else take charge. Not the most omega-like trait, but he couldn’t help it. “No. Can’t do it. You need a healer, and I don’t want you and Ty killing each other when I’m not around to stop it.”

  “What about this life you have to lead no matter who else is around? Aren’t I getting in the way of that?” Davis asked and leaned on the door knob.

  Ken nodded. “But you’ve always been in the way, whether you knew it or not. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  It took longer than that to inform his boss he needed to take the rest of the day off for personal matters. He hadn’t done that in awhile, not since Tyler got clean, and she wasn't thrilled.

  Carolyn gave Ken a telling wink as he turned off his computer. “Is he the one?”

  Ken locked his drawer and met her sparkling eyes. “Always, but he’s trouble.”

  She grinned. “The good ones are.”

  If that were true, Davis must be the best.

  8

  Davis was as surprised as anyone when Ken agreed to let him take Ty to the Narcotics Anonymous meeting alone. Ty’s sponsor was teaching a class and agreed to meet them there. The only person more surprised was probably Ty himself, though he didn’t say so.

  After they got back to the condo and roused Ty from his hangover, Davis showered and dressed in his last pair of clothes. Ty followed suit.

  Ken briefly argued, but when Davis told him to call the healer, he finally relented with a frown heavy on his lips.

  Davis itched to kiss the frown away, but he decided not to push it. Sure, Ken was worried about him. It didn’t mean Davis had the right to do what his body begged him to do.

  The meeting was at a grimy hall in the Flats, so Ken let Davis borrow the car (after drilling him on safe driving for thirty minutes). Before they went in, Ty insisted on smoking three cigarettes in the parking lot.

  Davis stood a few shoulder widths away, leaning against Ken’s sensible Honda, and watched the bits of blue peek through the clouds. It looked like it might rain or possibly snow.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ty asked, voice raspy and thick. He looked worse than the last time Davis saw him. His brown eyes were sunken, and the roots of his hair had started to grow out. His cheeks were sharper than Davis’s ever were, more like their mother.

  Davis blew out a puff of air just short of a snort. “I’m trying to be here for you, even if you don’t want it.”

  Smoke curled around Ty’s fingers, stained yellow with tobacco use. “So that’s why you were fucking strippers last night? Ken’s the one who came for me. Not you.”

  Davis blinked, because what the fuck? Strippers? Where the hell did Ty get that idea? “I was at a Russian club; I didn’t fuck anyone. Maybe I had some trouble with a couple of Russians, and I took care of it. Sorry about last night, but I’m here now. That’s all I can say. Why’d you start a fight?”

  “Don’t remember.” Ty’s cheeks hollowed as he took another drag. “We’re just dragging him down, you know. Two glorious fuckups. Mom would be so proud. He’d be better off without us. Clean break.”

  “Who?” Davis breathed, though he knew. How could he not know? There was only one wolf Ty could be talking about.

  Ty looked at him, and his brown eyes, which were so much like Davis’s own, narrowed. “He’s in love with you. It took me a while to see it, but all these years he’s always thought you could make it better. He’s had unshakable faith in you no matter how many times you screw him over. But you don’t feel that way about him. How many times did you think of him while you were out there doing whatever shithole job you managed to worm your way into?”

  That was the problem wi
th Ty. No matter what else, he could spot Davis’s weakness a mile off and call him on it. Not even Ken was that perceptive. Or cruel.

  Davis tensed his jaw and turned. “Whatever our relationship is, it isn’t any of your business. He’s not your mate, Ty.”

  “No, but he wished you were his. Don’t you get it? He’s too good for you. Too good for me. Nothing we do makes his life better, and yet he just keeps coming back for more Harrison brand pain and misery. He’s like a damn masochist for the stuff. Rolls over and takes it. Shit.”

  Ty wielded his words like weapons, and each one struck its target.

  Davis scrunched his toes in his Vans. “I thought about both of you all the time. We make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to have a friend who’s got our backs. I came back, and no matter what you say, I’m not leaving again. Not this time.”

  The cigarette burned to the filter, and Ty snubbed it out on his shoe. “Did you come back for me? For him? Or did you come back for yourself? To prove you aren’t as much of a loser as we all know you are. Think about it,” Ty said. He shoved past Davis and stalked into the building.

  Davis waited a beat before he followed. He didn’t go inside the room, but he stood outside the door. His ribs ached and the claw slashes on his legs itched like crazy. Scratching them would only reopen the wounds—not what he needed.

  He wasn’t good enough for Ken, and Ken really wanted them to be mates. He’d loved Davis for years, and Davis. . .

  Shit!

  A normal human couldn’t make out the mumbled confessions that came from inside that closed door, but his shifter hearing caught enough. He tried not to pay attention to the stories of pain and addiction that flitted to his ears, but when he heard the gruff edge of Ty’s voice, his chest tightened.

  “Got drunk last night. No heroin, so I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. Had a little E for kicks, you know. So what?”

  A woman asked if Ty knew why he went out. Got drunk and took E.