Dirty Alphas

by Alexa B. James

  “This is news to me, too,” I grumble. “And I’m not sure I like it all that much.”

  Mack gives me a look. “Let’s just let these guys go do their job.” His blue-green eyes glint with just a little of their usual mischief. “It gives me an excuse to hold you for longer.”

  Just because I don’t want to extinguish the glimmer of fun Mack and get only stern Mack back, I sigh and say, “Fine.”

  Aaron looks between me and Mack with a smile creeping across his full lips. “Mack, man, we’re really glad you’re here. I have a feeling if one of us said that to Scarlet, she’d threaten to disembowel us.”

  “Alright—fun's over, we’re going in,” Lance says as he unlocks the door and disappears inside. Darrel gives me a quick look before he follows; it’s not quite a smile, but almost.

  The look Aaron gives us is much closer to a smirk, and one with a little heat. “You two behave yourselves while we’re gone.”

  “Thanks. We will, butthead,” I say, shaking my head. Like Mack and I are going to go for a quick hook up in the hallway while I’m searching for my boyfriend? Seriously?

  Mack slowly lowers me to my feet but places a hand on my back, looking ready to scoop me up in his arms if the triplets so much as sneeze.

  “It’s just muscle pains, Mack. They’ll fade in a minute.” I lift my dance shirt a little to show my side. The skin remains swollen and faintly purple, but all the wounds have sewn up and stitches fallen out.

  Mack whistles low.

  “Muscle pains, we can fix.” His hand rubs up and down my back. “You want a massage, or do you want to stretch?”

  Both seem extremely insensitive to do during a search for my sister and boyfriend when they could be in real danger. Pain radiates through my back, though, and when Mack gives me a level look and starts kneading into a massive knot in my lower back, I just nod and let my eyes drift closed.

  Mack rolls up my shirt to just under my breasts and shifts around me to really get access to the mass of hardened muscles running from my shoulder to lower back. The sensation of him kneading into my knots feels both painful and soothing, and I can’t help a few little gasps.

  “I’ve never felt a back so tense,” Mack says in a low voice from behind me. “We really should stretch you out and then massage your muscles. Is it just your back or your legs as well?”

  It’s everywhere, but I don’t say that because even this massage is pushing the boundaries of decency in my place of employment. Not that Marie or any of the residents would care, as most of them are used to the dragon shifters walking stark naked in the halls—and Marie has a clothing optional policy as well. But I like to at least seem professional and approachable in the Meadows’ halls.

  The door opens to my apartment, and Aaron leans into the crack, arms above his head and an amused smirk on his lips. “I thought I told you two to behave,” he says as if he caught Lance screwing me in the hall and found it very entertaining.

  “Shut up,” I say just as one of my knots gives way, and the words come out a little like a gasp.

  Aaron’s eyes heat as he says. “It’s all clear, but you two are welcome to finish out here while we search."

  “Um, no,” I say as I move away from Mack’s magical hands and toward Aaron. Reaching back, I grab Mack’s hand and squeeze it. “Thank you.” When I go to release his hand, he grabs on and I end up pulling him toward Aaron.

  Aaron only relents the littlest bit of space, so I end up scooting past him while he grins heatedly down.

  “Stop smiling. We weren’t doing anything,” I say when my face is only inches away from his.

  “I know you weren’t, honey,” Aaron says, leaning in so close, I feel his warm breath on my cheek.

  “Honey? What are you, ninety?” I laugh.

  He leans in even closer. “It’s your smell—honey.”

  Whoa, there.

  “You just can’t turn the flirting off, can you, Aaron Knight? Even in super serious situations and with girls who have a boyfriend,” I say, meaning to sound scolding, but it all comes out a little breathier than intended. “I have a boyfriend.”

  “I know. And I don’t sleep with anyone who’s in a monogamous commitment, ever. If that’s what you’re implying, the answer is no—not until you break it off. And you’ll know when I’m flirting—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’ll know when you’re flirting, and I’ll know when you’re watching me and all that.”

  “Know when he’s watching you?” Mack says from behind, his voice full of a teasing mischief. “I obviously miss all the interesting conversations around here.”

  Shaking off Mack’s hand, I push past Aaron. Those two were obviously brothers from another mother and being sandwiched between them is way too much for me right now. Even though I’m pretty sure it’s all in good fun—I’m positive this is not even close to the appropriate time for fun.

  The first thing I notice about my apartment is that everything is just as it should be. No furniture out of place, no signs of a struggle.

  Nothing.

  Even knowing my pack already somehow broke into my apartment this morning, I was really hoping this place would have a neon arrow in the air pointing to an obvious clue to where Zane is, but this room is giving me nothing. When I investigate the kitchen, hallway, bathroom, bedroom, and a small laundry room, I find nothing as well.

  When I reenter my living room, the three Knight brothers huddle in one corner, talking low.

  “It would have been a lot easier if it was him,” Lance is saying. “But I’m not sure if it would have been better—at least not for her.”

  “I think we can all admit we were hoping it was him,” Darrel says, rubbing the back of his neck. The poor man has yet to change and is still wearing an outfit much too small for him.

  “Hoping who was him?” I ask, even though from the hushed way they’re talking, I can tell this is a private conversation.

  When I peek back at Mack, who’s sitting, slumped and looking exhausted on my couch, he shrugs.

  Lance scratches his neck and turns back to me. “Darrel and I have some more work to do—but we were hoping we could take turns watching out for you, just until we figure out who's behind the attack. Aaron will stay with you first, and then one of us will relieve him.”

  “I’m…I’m…” I’m about to say I don’t need help, but I do, and everyone in the room knows it. The look Mack is leveling at me clearly communicates that not only does he agree with the Knight brothers, but he’s also willing to take their side if I try to fight them on it. On top of that, if I’m going to convince my wolf to submit to Darrel, I need to spend as much time with him as possible in the coming days. “Can Darrel be the one who guards me?” I ask.

  Aaron slaps his chest as clear hurt falls over his features. His mouth drops open, and though the expression is over-exaggerated and a little comical, I think I see real hurt in his amber eyes.

  I raise my hands. “I’m sorry, Aaron—I swear I didn’t mean that as an insult to you.”

  “Well, how did you mean it?” he asks.

  How to answer.

  When I glance over at Darrel, I see a little smile playing on his lips, though his face is otherwise stoic. “Yeah, I could watch over you.”

  “Wearing that?” Aaron says, gesturing down to Darrel’s ill-fitting attire. “You don’t even have shoes, man.”

  “No, Darrel needs to change, and then he and I need to find someone—someone who is obviously not your boyfriend or sister, and we need to do that now.” Lance looks at me with raised brows. “Scarlet, we’ve worked out a schedule for who's going to guard you. We’re trying to keep this fair—can you let us just decide this system between ourselves?”

  “Sure. I guess?” I say, a little confused, as it sounds a lot like they want to guard me—kind of like they’re fighting over it, and I’m not sure what they would get out of it—except, of course, my witty repartee. “And I’ll see you two later, then? Th
anks…”

  Lance nods and heads straight out, but Darrel crosses the room to me. “Take this for now.” He holds out his phone. “You might need it.”

  “I’m not taking your phone. Mack has one—and I’m sure Aaron does too.” I wave over toward the pair.

  Darrel wraps his left hand around the back of my hand and presses his phone into my palm with his right. “Honestly, I’d feel a lot better knowing you have one too, just in case. Would you mind?”

  A warm sensation blossoms in my belly, and I can’t help being amazed that someone who has the looks and reputation as a lethal warrior could be so considerate and sweet. “So, I’m doing you a favor—I guess, here. Is that what you’re getting at?”

  He nods. “Exactly.”

  Rolling my eyes, I take his phone. “Sure, I am. I’m giving this back to you, though, as soon as you come to take over for Aaron.”

  “Take over for Lance.”

  Meeting his dark-blue eyes, I wince a little. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble with your brothers by requesting solely your protection. I really wasn’t meaning to imply anything.”

  A smile spreads across his lips, startling in its warmth. I’m almost certain this is the first real smile I’ve seen from the big guy, because if I’d seen him look like this before, I would have remembered. “If they give me a hard time—it'll be more than worth it. To be honest, I suggested I do the guard duty in the first place…which is probably why I was pushed to last.”

  “You guys really want to do guard duty—is it some ‘know thy enemy’ thing, or is it a pride thing between you? Do you all just want to be where the carnage is going to happen?”

  That would make sense to me.

  “That’s not why I want to do it,” he says before stepping back, nodding, and walking out with no further explanation as to his meaning.

  Well, even the nice one is putting me through a mind fuck.

  Chapter Twenty

  Aaron

  I can’t help glancing over at Scarlet repeatedly as I lift cushions, flip over pictures, and search other places in the apartment that don’t stand a chance of revealing her boyfriend’s whereabouts. The house has a hideous monochromatic theme to it. The best thing about the décor is the many photographs of Scarlet on the wall—but all of them are in black and white, as if the photographer was intentionally trying to dim her beauty into something manageable. Along with her in the photos is presumably this joker Zane—the guy looks like a real douchebag with his hair gelled to within an inch of its life.

  It looks to me as if he is also somewhat restraining her in every photo—holding her hands, arm around her shoulders, hugging her from behind. Maybe I’m just reading too much into the photo poses after what Scarlet’s mother said.

  “Well, thank you anyway,” Scarlet says as she kneels next to a pile of mail in the corner by the door. After hanging up her phone, she mutters, “Thanks for nothing. And nothing here…” Sighing, she stands and turns around to find me watching her.

  “No luck?” I ask.

  “Mack is still calling around.” She nods toward the closed door. “He’s got some fae looking for my sister—who, my father tells me, still hasn’t returned home. Next step is just driving in circles around town, I guess, hoping to catch their scent.” She closes her eyes and fists her hands, looking like she’s at risk of throwing up from her anxiety.

  “You like nice guys, don’t you?” I ask.

  Scarlet’s big green eyes snap open, and her look of misery disappears replaced with confusion. Which is the reason I asked the question in the first place—I never want to see that anguished expression of misery on her face again.

  “What—where do you get that?” she asks.

  “This fella…” I tap the nearest photo of the douchebag. “Darrel. I guess nice guys don’t finish last with Scarlet Riley.”

  “Darrel?” Her brow furrows before her eyelids widen. “Oh no, that’s not what I meant by that. I mean—Darrel’s great, he seems like a really good guy. And everyone likes their boyfriend or girlfriend to be a good person--”

  “No, they don’t,” I say on a laugh as I fall onto the couch. “Here. Rest a minute before we take off to our next location.” I pat the couch.

  Instead of sitting beside me, Scarlet crosses her arms over her chest. Her head tilts as she regards me, as if she can’t even begin to figure me out.

  Not really knowing what I’d said to earn her scrutiny, I fidget and rub the top of my hair. “What?”

  “How can you think anyone would actually want to be with a bad person? How can you have…” she gesticulates wildly, “…internalized that?”

  I give her a smirk. “Are you serious?”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.” Leaning forward so my elbows are on my knees, I say, “I’ll just use Darrel as an example. Lance has so many women after him, he regularly has to change his phone number. He doesn’t even go on dates anymore because women immediately get so attached—and I think we can both agree that he comes off as a bit of an asshole.”

  Scarlet doesn’t roll her eyes, but she comes close. “Well, bully for Lance. And I’m very confused, as I thought you were using Darrel as an example.”

  “Getting to that,” I say. “Darrel has had one girlfriend in his entire life—slept with one woman—”

  “Wait.” Scarlet lifts a hand to my mouth, as if she wants to cover my lips, but stops herself. “Aaron, that’s way too personal. I’m sure he doesn’t want you to tell me all of this.”

  “I can guarantee you he absolutely doesn’t care if I tell you. He’s not ashamed of anything—ever,” I say as I stretch my arms over the back of the couch. I nod again to the couch. “Why don’t you sit down before you fall down.”

  To my utter shock and delight, she does, turning to face me with a contemplative look. “Okay, fine, how long was he with his girlfriend?”

  “Forever? I don’t know, I wasn’t counting. Anyway, he’s with this girl all these years, and then she calls him up one day to say she thinks she met her true mate. He gives her the go-ahead to see if it is real, and she leaves his ass.”

  “This would be Lola,” Scarlet says. “The ex-girlfriend who loves Darrel with her whole heart and soul and thinks he’s the best male on Earth—aside from her mate. Lola, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, and I can feel myself gaping a bit with shock, but I can’t help it. “How do you know all that?”

  Scarlet leans back into the arm I have resting along the couch. “Lola and I talked for a long time. You have any former lovers who would gush that way about you?”

  “Oh, honey,” I say, leaning in. “I have women who write sonnets about me. I might not be a good guy, but I’m righteous to my lovers.” I pack a shit-ton of innuendo into my voice, so she can’t mistake my meaning. I say it halfway to earn a little exasperation from her and the other half because I hope she’ll ruminate on my words, late at night—if she ever drops that ball and chain, Zane. When she doesn’t respond and only looks contemplative, I add, “The women I’m with enjoy me.”

  “That sounds a little lonely, Aaron, if I’m being honest—to be enjoyed by someone. It doesn’t sound half as lonely as Lance’s life, but it still sounds like Darrel has been the best off.” She shrugs before grimacing. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be judging you—well, only as adversaries and potential alphas of this pack, if you take over—but your love lives are none of my business.” Leaning forward, she combs her fingers through her strawberry-blonde hair and holds her head as if it seriously needs support. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” I say, though the cold pit in my stomach contradicts my words. I suddenly want to be nowhere near Scarlet Riley and her anxiety. Obviously, her stress is catching, and I’ve caught a bad case that went straight to my gut.

  Looking over, she meets my gaze, her green eyes shining with something I can’t place. “Can I just say one more thing?”

  Even though I really want to say a big, fat "No," I shrug like I d
on’t care one way or the other. “I’m not going to stop you.”

  She bites her lip for a second before releasing it. “Just because you have a hard shell or refuse to get close to anyone, doesn’t mean you’re not a good person. It usually just means someone you let in wounded you so badly, you’re terrified of giving someone else that chance.”

  It’s as if Scarlet just punched straight through my chest and left a gaping hole there. What the fuck? We were just having a normal conversation, and all of a sudden, she hits me with this bullshit.

  “I’m sorry, Aaron. Ugh…this is what comes of talking to my mom all the time and thinking it’s okay to vocalize these thoughts out loud. I wasn’t talking about you…just generalizing…”

  “No.” I pull my arm from the back of the couch. “No, you didn’t upset me.” Trying on a smile, I bump her with my shoulder. “I wasn’t thinking about myself anyway, someone else. We’re good.”

  Scarlet grimaces again, and even though I want to be far away from Scarlet Riley and her accurate assessment of me, I can’t help thinking she looks cute making that scrunched nose expression.

  “Careful, you don’t want your face to stick like that,” I say, tapping her nose with a finger. “Anyway, have you tried calling Zane’s phone?”

  “Yes,” she says, exasperated. “You didn’t see me trying to call him a thousand times in the car?” She points over her shoulder.

  “I mean since we’ve been back in your apartment?” I nod slowly. “Maybe he forgot his phone or left it.”

  “Maybe…” A contemplative look crosses her face, and she pulls Darrel’s phone from her back pocket. She dials the number slowly, as if she wants to draw out the hope that the phone could be here. Over the speaker, the dial tone rings once, and then an electric-sounding song plays out from just below us.

  We both look down, and then at each other just as Macklin opens the door.

  “That worked?” Scarlet says, as if she still doesn’t believe it.

  “What worked?” Macklin asks.

  Scarlet and I dive down on the couch, searching the cracks and crevices. I reach my hand between where the stiff backboard of the couch meets the bottom board, squeezing my fingers down into the crack until I wrap them around a hard, vibrating object. After fishing it out, I hold the phone out to Scarlet, who is grinning like mad.