The Loneliest Alpha (The MacKellen Alphas)

by T. A. Grey

  She crossed her arms, mimicking him. “No.”

  “Get your shit and let’s go,” he repeated. As if that made any difference.

  “No.”

  He looked away for a moment, probably garnering patience, then strode toward her in long, hard strides. She couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing the same manila boots he’d worn when he’d kicked in Gavin’s bedroom door.

  She snickered and his eyes narrowed. “You’re shitfaced. Now it’s time to go.”

  She backed up as he neared. When he got in range to touch her she threw her arms out and said, rather loudly, “Don’t touch me! I’m Gavin’s woman!”

  Someone gasped in the back. Another chuckled. Then more silence. Surely she could have heard a pin drop.

  Jo narrowed his mean, beady eyes on her. Okay, they weren’t ugly or anything but he was just so big. He could probably toss her into the air twenty feet then catch her and do it again while never breaking a sweat.

  She giggled again.

  “Like I said, shitfaced. Now before you do something stupid, grab your purse and let’s go. Now.”

  Alicia couldn’t help it. Something about the concoction of booze she’d drank along with his over-the-top manliness just set forth peels of girly giggles. The kind of girly giggles that Hanna and Kaity soon were replicating from across the room.

  He reached for her and she slapped his hand away. She struggled to put on a serious face. “I am Gavin MacKellen’s woman and you will not touch me, or I’ll tell him what you did and let me just tell you, buddy, he will not like it!” Of course she had no clue if this was true or not.

  His mouth opened and closed. His head cocked then he leaned in close. Her eyes rounded. “Bullshit,” he said. “Just ’cause you’re stayin’, that don’t mean you’re his woman. He hasn’t even shown you his face, has he? So bullshit. He won’t if I lug you outta here like I’m about to.”

  She pursed her lips as she thought about this. Apparently this took too long to be socially acceptable because he sighed and moved to grab her again.

  She slapped his hand away again, harder. “Well, I kissed him. If that doesn’t make me his woman, I don’t know what does. Okay, maybe sex would, but I’d like to as least see his face before we do that, you know? I mean, I might be able to do it if he just blindfolded me again or something, heck, it might even be kinky, but I really would prefer to look at his eyes. I caught a glimpse of them before and they were pretty, you know? A lot like yours, actually. Though I’m not trying to give you a compliment or anything because you look like a thug and I don’t like you much. I mean, you’re nice and all but…no thanks, you know? No hurt feelings. So, yeah, I like Gavin and we totally kissed and it was great, but no, I haven’t seen his face. But, oh well, right?”

  Jo’s stoic face stared at her. A long moment passed. “Is that all?”

  She thought about it, nodded. “I think so.”

  His jaw slid left then locked into that position. Then, quite suddenly, he started laughing. It was a deep, belly laugh that had her smiling and giggling like a fool. Hanna started laughing, Kaity followed and even Sam the hot waitress joined in. However, once she did, Jo’s gaze cut to her turning hard and angry. Sam’s lips snapped shut and she spun around, disappearing into the kitchen.

  What was that all about?

  “What if I promised to sneak you to the house so you can surprise him? Turn the light on in his face or some shit? Will you come with me then?”

  Her eyes lit up. The man was genius! “Yes!”

  He smiled. “Then grab your shit, woman.”

  So, she grabbed her shit, gave a grand wave to the bar and yelled goodbye to everyone. They waved and smiled back. Nice people.

  Hanna got dropped off at her house first followed by Kaity. Jo was nice enough to save Alicia for last.

  She couldn’t help but grin at their evil little plan. It was perfect! He’d kill the headlights, drive up slowly and let her sneak into the house and surprise Gavin. Win, win situation.

  That was the plan. But the night didn’t end that way. Not even close.

  Because as they drove across the pack toward Gavin’s house an SUV barreled into them, slamming into their midsection and flipping them off the road.

  Her screams of terror filled the night.

  CHAPTER 13

  Hanna fumbled to put her key into the deadbolt. It took her a few tries but she finally opened the front door. She should have left the outside light on; it would have made the past ten minutes she’d just wasted move a lot faster.

  Her chuckles at her own stupidity died as she stepped inside.

  Darkness and emptiness greeted her. The small kitchen light had been left on and its glow lit up part of the hallway. To her right the dining room and to her left the living room were both dark. Upstairs, the master bedroom, baths, and guest bedroom were dark as night. No sounds greeted her save for the ticking of clocks and the whirr of the refrigerator.

  God, it was worse than she thought.

  She’d told him to get his belongings today and leave. She’d spent the day in town, putting on a brave face until she couldn’t handle the thought anymore and had gone to tell her sister. Kaity, luckily, had provided some surprisingly much needed relief by suggesting a night at the bar.

  The time for distractions was over now. She didn’t want to be here in this house with all their memories, but a part of her liked the painful sting it caused, like pushing on a bruise just to feel it hurt.

  She was stupid. An idiot. Because the first thing she did was march into that kitchen and turn on the light.

  Sure enough, it hit her like a punch to the heart, knocked the wind out of her. Pressure expanded in her chest and she barely held back the tears.

  He’d taken his coffee pot, his framed photo of him at a chili contest winning the amateur cook-off prize. Such small things but they hurt like gunshots. If it hurt just seeing the kitchen this much, then what would it be like to see their living room…their bedroom?

  Panic started up. Her breaths turned into harsh pants as anger and hurt and pain swirled into a nasty concoction inside her.

  Don’t do it, Hanna.

  Don’t do it.

  She turned slowly and stared at the answering machine. The tool that had finally cinched her decision to end it with Tom.

  Her knees felt wobbly as she went to it. A new message was there. The bright number one flashed up at her as if in warning.

  Don’t do it, Hanna.

  God, she hurt. Everything hurt. Her hands, her skin, even her hair. Everything hurt as if she’d been beaten over every square inch of her body with a bat.

  Still, she watched her hand move to hit the play button as if she was watching someone else go through with the motions. Not her. Not her, because she didn’t want any more of this pain, right? She’d never been a glutton for punishment, right?

  A fat tear slid down her face and she clenched her jaw, bracing. Then, like she was pushing on a swollen bruise, she hit play.

  The new message rang out loud and clear in the dead house. New because she’d deleted the last one trying to rid it from memory. The first had been a woman teasingly letting Tom know she looked forward to seeing him again soon. She even made a kissing sound.

  Hey, Tom, I know you said only to use this number for emergencies but you’re late and I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay. In case you forgot, it’s the Palm Springs Motel, room eight. Can’t wait to see you.

  Time froze.

  Hanna stood still. Even her heart didn’t beat. Her mind had turned off or switched to some alternate mode that would allow her to survive hearing that woman’s voice—again.

  Because the impact of it hit her like a freight train crushing an empty cardboard box at fifty miles per hour.

  She laughed, an alien, hollow sound.

  That was a new message. One that must have happened since she’d heard the first one that had killed her hopes and dreams. The call that ended her marriage.<
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  Her finger hovered over the play button, trembling to play it again.

  That’s when her eyes caught sight of the diamond shining on her ring finger.

  His ring. The lykaen mating ceremony didn’t require rings. Instead, they had a sacred mating tether created by combining materials from the female and male then tying it around their wrists as the vows were spoken.

  Tom had given her the ring so that humans would know she was taken. Or so he said. He’d never really shown protective tendencies toward her when they were together now that she thought about it.

  Suddenly she had to tear the ring off her finger, couldn’t stand to have something of his on her skin, touching her, damaging her. Not something that was his. Not something that he’d once given her out of love.

  But that wasn’t all. That was just the ring after all, not the sacred tether they’d said their vows over.

  With that thought, she charged upstairs and tore into the bedroom closet. Shoe boxes and clothes went flying behind her in a torrent as she ransacked the place. Her breath quickened, her eyes wide and determined, chest heaving.

  Then she found it. At the bottom of her jewelry box. Jewelry that had been left by her dead mother and grandmother, rings and necklaces that had been split between her and Kaity.

  The tether was made up of strands of their hair, cloth from the white gown she’d mated him in and his favorite shirt, a white button down.

  She fisted the material, staring at it as memories of their mating day came back to her. How happy she’d been. How he’d look at her like she was his world. But that look had faded over the months steadily and then at a rapid rate. She hadn’t been able to catch up to it, to him. Until one day when he looked at her with indifference and contempt.

  Maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that his clothes no longer lined his side of the closet, but Hanna found herself walking downstairs to her car.

  She shouldn’t. She was shit-faced drunk. But that didn’t stop her. She put the key in the ignition, started the car, and took off down the road keeping her foot barely on the gas and the pedometer steadily trembling around fifteen miles per hour.

  When a man riding a motorcycle blazed down the road toward her on the empty street, she squinted at his beaming headlight and focused on staying on her side of the road. She didn’t need to kill anyone after all, and if she did kill someone, she knew who she wanted it to be.

  The driver got closer and her breath caught.

  Alex.

  Alex.

  “Play it cool, you got this. Not like he’s a cop, Hanna,” she told herself. Then why did it feel like she was about to get busted by a teacher for passing notes in class?

  The loud rumble of his bike grew louder as he neared. As he started to pass her, his black helmet-covered head glanced up at her with a passing glance. Even with the dark night shadowing his face she could still feel his eyes narrow on her. As if he knew. As if he knew that today her life had been wrecked, that she’d gotten drunk and was driving illegally on her way to the Palm Springs Motel. All things she shouldn’t be doing.

  But then the bike drove past her, undeterred. The breath she’d been holding rushed out of her and she laughed at her own silly paranoia.

  Of course he hadn’t recognized her, or if he had, why would he care? He had no reason to. At most, they’d been something of friends, she guessed. Or not even friends, maybe acquaintances would be the better term.

  An engine roared behind her with a guttural growl. Tires squealed on asphalt. Her pulse thumped in her throat.

  Her gaze shot to the rear view mirror and she gaped. He’d turned around and was trailing her. That one solitaire headlight pointed right at her like a mother’s scolding finger.

  He honked his horn then pointed a finger at her and jabbed it to the shoulder of the road. His message rang loud and clear: pull the fuck over.

  She squeezed the steering wheel like she was trying to give it a massage. There wasn’t enough air in the car. She rolled down the window and sucked in the cool breeze.

  Beeeeeeeeeeep!

  He really laid into it now and without even looking at him she knew he was pissed, and his patience was gone.

  She pulled the hell over.

  Her heart raced like she was running full-on with a monster chasing her. Why was her heart racing like this? An adrenaline surge from being caught driving while intoxicated?

  Ah heck, that may be part of it but she knew it’d be a lie to say that was all. Because it wasn’t. This was Alex, swinging his long leg up and over the bike, striding toward her, pulling his helmet off and shaking his shaggy hair loose. Oh shit!

  Then leaning into the opened window—why had she opened it again?—and turning those dark, dark eyes on her.

  She stared forward, lips pursed, eyes blinking fast. Maybe if she just pretended he wasn’t standing there like some mysterious, dangerous cop in the middle of the night he’d go away.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doin’, Hanna?”

  Shit.

  She swallowed over razorblades caught in her throat. It hurt.

  Don’t look at him and maybe he’ll go away.

  “Hanna! Snap out of it!”

  She jerked at the abrupt change in his voice. No matter how many times she told herself not to do it, her eyes swung up to his.

  Damn. You looked, you idiot!

  There was no unseeing after looking at Alex Thompson’s eyes. The man just had a pair. Not that they were beautiful or that she romanticized them by dreaming about them or something stupid. Not at all. It’s just that Alex had the kind of eyes that saw you.

  As in really freaking saw you.

  He’d always been like that. No matter how bad or good a day she’d ever had, all he had to do was look her over once and his eyes would change. He would just know. Like some kind of damn psychologist or parent. He’d know.

  “I’m not doing anything,” she said. Her voice a whisper.

  His expression tightened around his eyes and mouth. Another thing about Alex, he always got mad when she tried to lie to him. Not fair though! The man had no right, at all, knowing how she really felt. And just because he asked her questions didn’t mean she had to answer him honestly. After all, they weren’t even friends.

  But dang, did he manage to make her feel like crap for lying to him.

  “Bullshit,” he said, voice sharp as a blade. “Get out of the car.”

  Her jaw dropped. She it snapped closed. “I will not.” When did she start sounding all haughty?

  Suddenly her door was open, he reached across her and unbuckled her seatbelt, then she was dragged out of the car, her back shoved against it.

  “You’ve been drinking. Mind telling me why you’re drinking and driving at one in the morning, Hanna?”

  She looked anywhere but at his face. She didn’t know why but she always struggled to keep eye contact with him. Maybe it was the whole seeing-eye thing he had going on. Yeah, that had to be it.

  Although if she were really being honest, as in hand to God honest, as in on her beloved parents’ graves honest, then she might admit that he straight up scared her.

  Alex was so different from her. He hadn’t graduated high school, he’d grown up with one of the worst father figures Hanna had ever witnessed and she’d known Emma Linchman’s father her whole life. Alex’s old man took the cake for worst father of the year.

  Alex didn’t go to college like she did. She had a degree in Accounting, was a CPA with a desk job and he worked manual labor building houses with Gavin. It was respectable, but different. Their interests were never the same. He had tattoos and shaggy hair that almost touched his shoulders with just a touch of curl to it, and a ’stache. Sexy and scary at the same time. It shouldn’t make her think so, after all it was just some facial hair, but the trimmed ’stache combined with his goatee just made her think—scary. This wasn’t a man she ever wanted to mess with. Plus, he drove a motorcycle. Enough said.

  And he su
rely wasn’t the kind of guy she wanted pulling her over at one o’clock in the morning on an otherwise empty road.

  Suddenly that scary face (’stache and all) was in her face. “I asked you a question, Hanna.”

  “Why do you always have to say my name like that?”

  They both blinked. She didn’t know who was more surprised that she blurted out that little question—a question she didn’t know she had until it spewed like vomit from her stupid lips.

  “What do you mean?”

  Shoot. Now that she’d opened this can of worms she might as well squirm around with the rest of them. “It’s just that…you always say my name like that.”

  “Like what?” he asked, something tense coming into his deep chocolate eyes.

  Her breath left in a flutter. “Like you’re always scolding me like I’m a child. I’ll remind you that I’m thirty years old and in no way a child, Alex. Plus, you do that thing.” She waved her hand as if to signify her meaning.

  His eyebrows rose and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Her stomach chose that moment to make a strange flipping sensation. Again, she had to look away from him and those damned eyes.

  “What thing?”

  “Yeah, you know, that thing where you end every sentence or question with Hanna. Like you’re trying to remind me of my own name.”

  He stepped back from her, his expression thoughtful. He nodded, conceding her point. “I guess I do. Why do you think that is, Hanna?”

  Had his voice suddenly gotten deeper? No, no way. Just the alcohol talking. Literally.

  “Um… Maybe you think I’m stupid so you really are trying to tell me my own name or you are trying to scold me. Otherwise, I have no idea.”

  “Maybe it’s because I like the sound of your name.”

  She wasn’t prepared for that. At all.

  The air wheezed out of her on a pinched breath and she suddenly had the need to escape. She pawed the door handle until she found it and quickly hopped into the seat, slamming the door closed and locking it for good measure.