Alpha Awakening - Adam (La Patron's Den Book 2)

by Sydney Addae

  She turned to follow Frankie inside.

  “Dude,” Tomas said grinning. “That was epic. The ultimate ass-whipping. The sit-your-ass-down-in-the-corner smack down.”

  “Which makes him dangerous,” Jarcee said. “There was nothing you could do once he touched you. I just wish it hadn’t been so public in front of their pack and team-mates.”

  “Diego or his father?” Adam asked, still unsure what he read in Alpha Klink’s eyes.

  “Or his older brother?” Tomas snapped his fingers. “I don’t remember his name. But he didn’t look too happy with the outcome either.”

  Jarcee shrugged. “Could be. La Patron will be proud you stood your ground and represented as you say. But he will increase security, especially with the job offers you received.” He looked at Tomas. “In addition to promotional work for the Lykos League, you’ve received offers for work as well.”

  “What kind of offers?” Adam asked as the SUV pulled onto the main road.

  “What kind of work?” Tomas asked.

  Jarcee handed each of them Manila folders. Adam opened his and pulled out two business cards. Eyebrow raised he looked at Jarcee. “A modeling agency? You’re shitting me, right?”

  “Nope. It’s that face. Plus, this is a human agency. She saw you somewhere and tracked you down. There’s full-blood female that works for the company and wants to sign you as her client.”

  Heat rose in Adam’s cheeks as he looked at Tomas. “What kind of offers did you get?”

  Tomas cleared his throat. “Sports equipment endorsement. A hotel in Switzerland wants me to endorse them.” He passed his envelope to Adam and took the business cards that fell from Adam’s fingers.

  Adam couldn’t believe someone wanted him to model clothes and cologne. He read through the promotional opportunities for Tomas and released a long sigh. “Congrats man, these look legit.” He gave Tomas the envelope and refused the business cards from the modeling agencies when Tomas tried to return them. “Naw man, I’m not doing that. Not only am I not comfortable with the idea of taking pictures for something like that, I can’t put my family on blast. No need to tempt fate. So far things are low-key. My Mom’s stopped calling every day and my Dad’s not breathing fire. No way I’d step into the light like that.”

  Jarcee nodded.

  “I feel you,” Tomas said. “What should I do with these?” He held up the folder to Jarcee.

  “We’ll ask La Patron later today,” Jarcee said looking pleased. “The situation is different, you won the Cup and the promotional package goes along with it.”

  Tomas stared at Jarcee for a few moments. “Is that why they didn’t give it to Adam? Because of La Patron? Because they didn’t want Adam to do public promotional work?”

  Adam frowned and looked at Jarcee waiting for an answer.

  “Not that I know of,” Jarcee said.

  Tomas looked at Adam with a look of sadness. “I bet that’s what happened. You should’ve won the Cup. I told you that. It belongs to you.”

  “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Adam snapped. “We’ve had this discussion already. I did not win the Cup. You did. You earned it. You played just as hard, practiced just as hard and won a first-string spot just as I did. I am not better than you. Get that through your head.”

  “You’re the Alpha’s son.”

  “What the hell does that mean on the field? On the field, we’re damn equals and you know that. Get your head out of your ass and recognize you’re a damn good baller and I’m not the only one saying it. You’ve got a Cup to prove that shit. Now stop this your daddy shit and man up. You won the damn thing on your own.” Adam sat back in his seat, crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window.

  “I need to get laid,” Tomas said into the silence.

  “In the worst possible way,” Adam said. He turned and fist bumped Tomas. “In the worst way, I need release. Tell the driver to step on it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Bella Gibson pushed wisps of her hair behind her ears as she tiptoed into her parent’s room and placed a fresh pitcher of water on the nightstand next to the bed. Her heart squeezed like a balled fist as she looked down at the petite woman lying still beneath the white sheet, each breath a rattling struggle. Every now and then her mom shook so hard her teeth made a clattering sound.

  Fragrant herbs cloaked the smell of sickness in the room but couldn’t delete the pungent odor. The disease left dark bruises across her cinnamon complexion as a calling card for ravaging her frail body.

  Giving into the need to touch, Bella cupped her mom’s cheek and once again prayed for healing. She couldn’t imagine life without the woman. Next, she thanked the Blessed Mary Magdalene for her assistance in her mother’s healing before placing a gentle kiss on her mom’s cool forehead.

  “Get better, Mom. I miss you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your voice.” Bella fought tears. “I miss you so bad. Please don’t leave me. I need you.” Eyes closed, she knelt beside the bed and continued to pray. Dressed in a large tee-shirt, jogging pants and ratty sneakers, she ignored the hardness of the barely covered concrete floor beneath her knees and the dangling earpiece from her cellphone.

  The bed moved.

  Bella opened her eyes and watched her mom's hand open and close. Heart racing, Bella’s hands flew to cover her mouth. “Mama?” she whispered as her mom’s eyes opened.

  They appeared unfocused for a few seconds until she blinked several times and smiled. “Bella. My sweet Bella.”

  The breathy sound brushed against Bella’s heart, causing it to leap for joy. It had been weeks since her mom recognized or spoke to her. Bella wiped the tears that rolled down her cheeks as she placed her forehead to her mother’s. “Mama you’re awake. Thank the Blessed Mary.”

  “Yes, Blessed Mary Magdalene, Saint of Women Near and Far,” her mom whispered. “Water please.”

  Bella jumped back and looked for the cup with a straw. “What about some ice chips?” She picked up the bowl of ice when she didn’t see a cup.

  Her mom’s eyelids dropped as she nodded.

  Bella placed a piece of ice on her mom’s chapped lips and waited. Water dribbled through her lips into her mouth before she opened her lips to suck it down.

  “Sing.”

  That one word shot through Bella like lightning. Her throat actually squeezed as if stopping any sound from emitting. It wasn’t permitted, not here on the first floor of their home where the sound could escape into the commune or beyond.

  Musical notes, beats, anything that made sounds fascinated her and took up huge chunks of her time. She loved exploring and tinkering with new sounds, or creating songs. Her mom teased that Bella sung a melody instead of screaming the day she’d been born.

  When she’d been younger, she’d sing around the house, in the yard and a few times in the Sanctuary. When people from the nearby town or hikers took notice, and started coming to their commune to ask for her to sing at events, the Priestess shut it down and outlawed public singing. Especially not on the grounds where outsiders might overhear and want more.

  Bella had been crushed. But the Priestess reminded her their mission was bigger than her desire to sing. Although desire seemed a paltry word for what pulsed inside her chest trying to break free, Bella agreed and had stopped singing. At least where others could hear.

  Nothing could stop the music in her heart and soul. Songs, ditties, notes hummed beneath the surface of her skin. She heard melodies in the chirping of birds, the night sounds of insects, the ticks from the large clock in the living area of their home. Everything alive had some sort of cadence and she heard them all. Her greatest challenge wasn’t in keeping music in, it was keeping it out, which daily proved to be a Herculean task. Some days she was successful but most days she hummed along with the notes in her mind.

  “I can’t,” she whispered, hating to deny her mother anything.

  “You can sing. Sing for me. I need to know your gift is still there. That fear hasn’t
stolen your God-given talent. Sing, baby,” her mom insisted.

  Tears filled Bella eyes. “We’ll get in trouble,” she whispered weakening. A song of thanksgiving and love bubbled from her heart to her throat. Every fiber of her being wanted to praise God for saving her mom’s life in the best manner she knew, through song.

  Her mom snorted. “Forget them. If they put us out, we’ll leave. Stopping you from singing was criminal. Sorry I went along with it even for a moment. I’ve knocked on death’s door and made it back alive to tell the story. One thing I know, every good and perfect gift comes from God. And we should use the gifts He gives. Now sing for me.”

  Bella couldn’t believe her strait-laced by the book mother instructed her to break a rule that had been created explicitly for Bella.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Bella,” her mom snapped.

  “Because of who you are I give you glory…” Bella sang softly while watching her mom’s face relax. The more she sung, the words wrapped around Bella’s heart and lifted her. “I give you praise.” She’d found this song on the internet written by Martha Munizzi and it spoke to her. The words burned in her heart with appreciation. She forgot where she was. “Jehovah Jireh, my provider,” Bella sang and lifted her hand.

  “Yes,” her mom said with tears running down her cheeks. Within moments the two of them were caught up in the song, forgetting everything and everyone except Jehovah, the object of their praise.

  “What are you doing?”

  Hands shook Bella’s shoulders and spun her around. A stinging slap on her cheeks stopped the words in her mouth. Her hand touched the burning spot on her face in surprise. It took a moment for her recognize the reddened face of her father. Behind him stood the Priestess, and several members of their group. Condemnation blazed from their eyes as they stared at her.

  “Singing is forbidden,” the Priestess said looking at her. “I explained to you why you had to stop. You said you understood.” She looked at Bella puzzled.

  “I…” Bella turned to look at her mom.

  Eyes closed, there were no signs of her mom ever awakening or crying. Instead, her mom looked just as she had when Bella entered the room earlier. Frowning, she tried to explain what she didn’t understand. “Mama, she…” How could she explain her mother asked her to sing when her mom hadn’t spoken in weeks? Had she dreamed the whole thing? Was she losing her mind? The bowl of ice sat on the nightstand. Had she put it there or had it been there all along? Bella wasn’t sure.

  She dropped her hand from her warm cheek and looked at her dad. He slapped her. Staring at her father, Bella stepped back. He hit her, something he’d never done in her 19 years of living.

  “Why did you break the rules, Bella?” the Priestess asked in a soft voice.

  “I sang to my mother, to ease her.”

  Her father scoffed and walked away. “She’s lost to us. Why can’t you accept that?”

  Fury rose in Bella’s chest at him. “Because she still breathes. She’s alive. Everything that has breath must praise the Lord. I praised Him for her.” It was the best she could come up with and hoped it worked. She didn’t want to be punished. It would keep her separated from her mom too long.

  The Priestess smiled and released a sigh. “His laws take precedent over ours, you are right. Lower the volume on your praise, sit next to her and sing near her ear. Do not draw outsiders to us again. Our mission is too great and we cannot waiver.”

  Relieved, Bella kept her head bowed so they wouldn’t see her profound gratitude to be allowed to sing again. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “You’ve taken on the care of your mom in addition to your job at the store. Praise is always appropriate and something your mother would do if she were able. Well done.” The Priestess nodded and ushered the others out of the room.

  “Be careful with the noise. I thought they’d make us leave and I can’t go.” Slender, yet muscular, her father crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at her. At 5’9” he was much taller than his 5’3” wife, and just four inches taller than Bella.

  Lately, Bella wondered if he loved his family anymore. Ever since he claimed Mary Magdalene visited him two years ago and gave him a charge to protect her Gospel, he’d become more intense. He believed others would come for the book and wanted to be ready. He looked around every corner for thieves. He trusted no one and had remote cameras placed in their store in town. There was probably one here in their home. His paranoia wore on her nerves and in her opinion, was the root of her mom’s illness.

  “Noise?” She didn't know everything but she knew music and she knew how to harmonize. If nothing else was true in this world, her music wasn’t noise. She could sing. Rather than allow his hostility to affect her further, she touched her mom’s arm, pleased she was warmer than before. “Every good and perfect gift comes from God. He gave me this voice.” She wouldn’t have dreamed that part. Her mom had to have spoken to her.

  Her father waved his hand in dismissal. “In this Compound, our mission is simple and clear. We carry on the tradition of protecting the last complete book of the Gospel of Mary which you’ve been taught since birth. Your God-given gifts take a back seat to our mission.” He pointed his finger at her. “If you cause problems and outsiders come to our doors again, I will kick you out of here so fast your head will spin. We will not lose this book, not on my watch. So, you’ll need to make a choice and make it fast because if I come here again and find you singing so loud you can be heard on the other side of the Compound, you’re out of here.” He turned and strode out.

  “Out of here, out of here.” The words ran in a loop in her mind, her heart bled a little more each time she heard it. Hurt raced up her back, causing her to bend forward holding her stomach. Some days she wished she could leave. Perhaps go somewhere she could just sing and listen to nature’s chorus. But she had no place to go. The only family she’d ever known were Boreal Disciples, members of the Order of Mary Magdalene, keepers of her sacred book.

  Her father knew that better than anyone. That her father would cruelly toss her aside sent her to her knees. What had she done to cause him to turn on her this way? Where was the doting, loving man she’d known all her life? Kneeling, she laid her forehead to the floor and prayed through her tears.

  “Mother Mary, please tell me what I’m doing wrong. Music fills my mind and heart until I feel faint. There’s no outlet, nowhere for it to go. Why does it torment me like this? It’s alive in me and hard to control. I’m scared Daddy will make me leave. Please help me control the need to sing, the need for music. Please help me. I don’t want to leave my Mom, my family and friends.”

  She remained kneeling on the floor for several moments reciting verses from Psalms until a pain in her back prompted her to move. She returned to her mom’s bedside to grab the melting bowl of ice.

  Her mom reached out and touched her hand.

  “Not again, devil. You won’t trick me twice,” Bella murmured as she eased back to the door.

  “Where are you going?” her mom asked, her voice whispery thin.

  “That’s not my mom. That’s just an illusion. Not her. Nope. It’s all in my mind,” Bella repeated as she stopped in front of the bedroom door.

  Her mom chuckled. “It’s not an illusion. I just come in and out sometimes that’s all.” She patted the bed. “Come sit with me.”

  “No, Ma’am. If you’re my mom, I’m calling the Priestess to verify your healing.” Bella stared at her mom, praying and hoping this was no illusion or foul play.

  “Okay, have Regina come in. I’ve some things to say to her anyway.”

  Bella’s eyes widened and then she relaxed. Her mom was the only person she had ever heard refer to their Priestess by her first name. She frowned. “What about Daddy?”

  Her mom waved. “Maybe later. Get Regina first.” She shooed her away. “Go on, tell her I want to talk to her.”

  Regina, the Priestess of their Order rushed into Bella’s parents’ bedroom
and stopped with her hand on top of her lace cap covered and tightly pinned long thick braids. Once again, Bella’s mom appeared unconscious as she had been for the past few weeks. Bella’s heart dropped when the Priestess looked over her shoulder at Bella.

  “You said she asked for me?”

  “Yes. She told me to tell Regina I want to talk to her.” Bella twisted her hands together while watching her mom struggle to breathe.

  The Priestess arranged her dark brown long dress as she sat closer to the bed. Back ramrod straight, she looked down. “She looks the same as before. Are you sure she spoke to you?” She touched Bella’s mom’s arm. “She’s warmer.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She prayed her mom would wake to prove Bella told the truth.

  “Regina,” Bella’s mom said, her voice clear although weak.

  “Greta. Blessed be Mary Magdalene.” The Priestess bent forward and placed a kiss on Greta’s forehead. Her long, thin fingers traced Greta’s face and pushed stubborn strands of curly hair behind her ear.

  “Blessed Mary Magdalene, Saint of Women Near and Far,” her mom whispered. “I died Regina.”

  The Priestess gasped.

  The thought of her mom’s death slammed into her stomach, robbing her of breath. Bella covered her mouth and took a step closer as if that would stop her mom from leaving again.

  Her mom glanced at her. “Calm down, Bella. Breathe Baby. It was a good journey and I learned a lot of things. We’ll talk later tonight. For now, I need to speak with Regina alone.”

  The Priestess looked at Bella and nodded.

  With a heavy heart and dragging feet, Bella left the room and closed the door behind her. Leaning against the wall, she took several deep breaths before her vision cleared.

  “Please heal Mama. Please!” she prayed, but wasn’t sure if her prayer would be answered.

  ####

  “Bella?” There was a knock on the rear door that faced the trail leading into the forest and into town. “Bella are you ready to go?” Mona her friend called.