Alpha Ever After (Midnight Liaisons Book 5) (7 page)

It’s not like I’m with Connor. Not really. I know he’d like to claim me as his mate, but I’m the one with the issues. I’m the one that puts the foot down. We’ve gotten together a few times since the big ‘Heat’ but each time, things haven’t worked out. He says something or does something and it reminds me of the kidnapping. Of the heat. The last time we were together was at the last Russell picnic, when we celebrated Marie’s big ‘turning’. Connor showed up and we tried to make nice for the afternoon. Then, he’d slipped up by casually mentioning his pack, and how he more or less expected me and the baby to join it once the baby was born.

That made my back go up. I ditched him at the picnic, and I haven’t seen him since.

He’s tried hard, but I can’t forget. It’s hard to forget when you have the evidence of your betrayal growing in your stomach. I tried to make it work for a few months, but now I just ignore him. I don’t answer his texts, I don’t talk to him, and I don’t let him into my life. That makes things easier. For me, anyhow. I know it must hurt Connor, and I can’t let myself worry about that. I have enough to worry about.

I’m at the checkout, loading things onto the belt, when the scent of wolf wafts through the human-pungent air. I freeze and tilt my head, tasting the scents, and then turn to the right just as someone walks up.

“Hey, Savannah. You want paper or plastic?” Gracie Anderson stands there, ready to bag my groceries, a red vest over her tight dress. She gives a flirty wink to the two shifters at my side.

This is hell, isn’t it? I must be in hell.

F
lipping
houses in Texas is not a fun job in the dead of summer. The one I’m currently working on doesn’t have a working air conditioner, which means it’s 140 degrees in the attic. And where is the central air unit located? Attic, of course. I’m pouring sweat as I shine my flashlight on the wiring, trying to figure out what’s wrong with the damn thing.

“Hey, bubba,” Gracie calls from downstairs. “You here?”

“In the attic,” I yell back at her. “Don’t come up.” You need shoes to walk on the insulation here, and my little sis isn’t all that fond of shoes.

I hear Gracie’s footsteps as she approaches and her scent wafts up from below. “Jesus fuck, it’s hot in here, Conn.”

“I’m trying to fix the AC,” I tell her, and wipe the flood of sweat from my brow. “Damn thing blew out yesterday and I’m painting tomorrow.” And I’d prefer not to do it in the heat.

“Well, come down and take a break, because I need to talk to you.”

With a sigh, I give up on the AC for now and climb down the attic ladder. The house isn’t much cooler, and I see Gracie fanning herself by the doorway, so I head over there. She hands me a bottle of ice water. I swig half of it before I take a breather to ask, “What’s up?”

“So you know that grocery store job I got?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “The one you made me get?”

I grin. “You’re not still complaining about it, are you? A job’s good for you. It’ll teach you responsibility.” It’s something our pack’s been lacking a long time, and I intend on drilling it into the heads of the remaining members. Gracie hasn’t been too happy about it, either. She was used to getting handouts from Uncle Levi, who thought women should be kept subservient to the pack men.

No longer. If she wants money, she’s going to have to work for it.

Gracie scowls at me. “I’m not here to complain. I’m here to tell you who I ran into.”

I take another chug of water, not all that interested. “Oh?”

“A certain pregnant lady. And guess who she was talking to?”

My body tenses. I narrow my eyes at my sister. “Savannah? She was there? How did she look?”

She shrugs. “Fat. Pregnant. It’s more interesting who she was with.”

Hot longing fires through me at the thought of Savannah, her belly rounded with my child. Our child. I miss her with a fierce intensity, but she hates me. I think she’s going to hate me forever. She won’t even return my phone calls anymore, and she avoids me. I can’t get anywhere near the Russell ranch without one of her brothers trying to plant a fist in my face—

—Not that that stops me often. But they have a new gal there, and she’s terrified of other shifters, and last time, Ellis Russell didn’t put a fist in my face but asked me nicely to not come around because I was scaring his mate.

And I understand being protective of one’s mate. So I stopped, even though it’s like a knife in the chest every morning when I wake up and she’s not there in bed with me.

I crumple the water bottle in my hand. “Who was with her? Her brothers?” They shadow her twenty-four-seven, and I don’t blame them. Not after she was nabbed by our pack.

“Nope. Two big hot guys. I don’t know what animals they were. They smelled weird. Sexy, but weird.” Her nose twitches. “And they were super friendly with her. Oh, and then there was a new cougar guy. I could smell him on her. Ten bucks says they’re trying to set her up with a mate.”

Red flashes before my eyes. “What?” I growl. I can feel my fangs lengthening.

Gracie ignores my rage. She studies her fingernails, painted a lime green. “Yup. She’s got a baby on the way, you know? And she works for a dating agency. Of course they’re going to try and set her up with a man. I think you have been officially disposed of. Not that it’s surprising - you know everyone hates us wolves.”

I have to walk away, because it’s either that or put my fist through the door Gracie’s leaning on. I take a few steps back into the too-hot house and put my hands on my hips, willing myself calm. I know Savannah and I have been more ‘off’ in the last few months than on. I just…thought she would come around. That she’d decide that she’s willing to let the past be the past and let me back into her life. I’ve been determined to let her take as much time as she needs.

But if she’s trying to find another mate to take her and my child?

A snarl erupts from my throat and I plow my fist through a freshly-plastered wall. “
Fuck!
”

“I know,” Gracie says sympathetically. “They’re assholes. And here we’ve all been trying super hard to turn over a fresh leaf and all. We got more shit done when we were the nasty Andersons than being the nice ones.”

I shake the drywall off my hand and rub my knuckles, fighting the urge to punch the wall again. “I need to talk to her.”

“Good luck with that,” Gracie says. “I bet they keep her locked down tighter than Fort Knox.”

I glance over my shoulder at my sister. “You see her at the grocery store often?”

“Nope. So staking out the parking lot is a bust. Why not try the dating agency?”

I shake my head. I’ve shown up there a few times and each time I’ve been quickly shown the door by a bodyguard. “They don’t want me there.”

“Then you need to think of something, or you’re going to lose her. The moment she’s wearing another guy’s mate mark, you’re history.”

I inhale sharply. A mental image of Savannah under me flashes through my mind. Her smooth, beautiful, unbitten neck arching. And then I picture her with someone else’s mate mark on her smooth neck.

My fist crashes through the wall again.

“I thought you were fixing these places up,” Gracie comments.

I snarl at her.

She rolls her eyes at my rage. “Yeah, well, I thought I’d let you know. You want my help with the girl thing? We can nab her one afternoon.”

I shake my head. The last thing I need to be involved in is kidnapping Savannah again. “I’ll figure something out.” What, I don’t know. Everything I can think of involves stalking her, and I want her to love me, not be frightened of me.

“Uh huh. Well, don’t say I never give you anything.” She wiggles her fingers at me. “I’m off to find someplace with air conditioning. Let me know if you reconsider.” With a smile, my sister saunters away and leaves me in the flip house.

I stare at the empty house around me. In addition to fixing the air conditioner, I now need to fix two walls. Fuck. So much for painting tomorrow. I’m too angry to think about it right now anyhow. Angry, and jealous.

And helpless. Fucking
helpless
.

The woman I love - the woman carrying my child - is seeing other men. She wants someone else to be the father to our child.

It should be me.

With a last, despairing look at the house, I fling my tools into my toolbox and head out. Instead of heading home, though, I take a drive in the opposite direction. Home is filled with Gracie, and Buck, and the rest of the pack. I head someplace else, someplace that I’ve been saving. Someplace that no one knows about but me.

Twenty minutes later, I open the wrought iron gate and drive down the long, winding gravel driveway. The house is there, just as I left it, and I get out and head for the front door. I have the key on my keyring; it’s my house.

Or rather, it’s the house I bought hoping I could bring a family into it.

Since I flip houses, I can see a gem in the rough, and this house came to me not long after that one and only night with Savannah. It was more expensive than my usual purchase, but I didn’t intend to flip this one. A two story farmhouse with fifty acres, I bought it despite the foundation issues and the clear work that needed to be done on the 1970s styled house. Now, months later, I’ve purchased additional land from a neighbor, bringing the total land to 250 acres and the house has been completely revamped. It’s gorgeous inside. I’ve poured buckets of blood, sweat and tears into this place, imagining Savannah in it.

And she won’t even talk to me.

I walk through the house, my steps slow, my heart aching. I don’t need to turn the lights on to know that the walls are a delicate blue because she mentioned once that blue was her favorite color. Or the bathroom upstairs has a claw-footed tub since she mentioned she likes taking long, hot baths. Or that there’s a nursery upstairs next to the master bedroom, just waiting for our baby.

None of it matters.

I flip the keys in my hand, thoughtful, and then turn and drive back to town.

“
W
hose keys are these
?” I ask. There’s an unfamiliar keyring on my desk with three keys on it and a small red carabiner and a tag. No name, no nothing but an address written down on the tag itself.

“Hmm?” Ryder types away at her computer from her desk, barely glancing over at me. “Hey, do you think we should have more practice Q&A sessions for the primordials? I worry they’re not going to be able to handle themselves in public.”

I hold the keys up to my nose and sniff them, trying to place a scent, but metal doesn’t hold smells all that well, and the only scent I get from it is metal. “We can,” I say absently, then hold up the keys. “These yours? I came in for work and they were on my desk.”

She finally glances over at me. “What? Nope, not mine.”

Sara comes out of the back room, no doubt switching movies on the DVD player that sees constant use with the Primordials around. I hold the keys up. “These yours?”

An uneasy look crosses Sara’s face. “No?”

“Whose are they?” It’s clear she knows something.

“Connor left them on your desk. He says it’s yours.”

A wealth of emotion moves through me. Connor was here…and deliberately avoided me? I’m surprised at how much that hurts. “What’s mine? What do these keys go to?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. You should probably talk to him about it.” Sara gestures at the door. “Ramsey’s waiting for me, so I need to go.”

“Thanks,” I tell her softly and then toss the keys aside on my desk. I’m not sure what to make of the gift. The only thing listed is an address. Connor’s address? I sit down and get to work, determined not to think about the keys.

Naturally, they’re on my mind all night. I’m distracted as I work the night shift, and even the normal babysitting issues with the Primordials doesn’t take my mind off of Connor and his strange gift. Things are slow on the night shift, and since Marie’s now working for Beau as his assistant, I’m full-time at the agency and permanently night-shift until Bath or Sara want to switch…and I don’t see that happening. The night shift is quiet, but that means there’s a lot of time to think.

And I keep thinking about those keys.

When we close the doors to the agency at three AM, I drive my carload of Primordials back home and send them off to spend time with the others. The Primordials are all bunking in our old rooms, squeezed into as many folding beds as possible until we figure out a permanent solution for them. I drop my charges off, pick up a few meat wrappers from the floor, and head back upstairs to my room, completely lost in thought.

I wash my face and change into my pajamas, and lie down to sleep, but I keep thinking of Connor and the last time I saw him. Marie’s picnic, over a month ago. Connor’s hair had been shaggy and he’d worn a tight, dark blue t-shirt that showed off his perfect shoulders and abdomen. He’d hovered over me while I ate, and when it was time to shift, he’d helped me take my clothing off.

It had been the last time I’d shifted comfortably, I think. Now I’m getting into the third trimester and Dr. Lamb suggests holding off on shifting until the baby’s born.

Babies.
I have to remember the plural. Babies.

We’d gotten along pretty well that day, for a bit. I’d ran by myself in the woods for a bit, enjoying the freedom of my feline body. Then, Connor had tailed me and changed back to human form, and told me I needed to head back to the picnic, because I was going to wear myself out.

And that had gotten on my last nerve. I’d ignored him, hot on a fresh bit of game. He’d immediately changed back to wolf form, scared my game away, and then continued to hound me until I returned to the picnic.

We’d had a blowout fight and he’d thrown that whole ‘if the baby’s a wolf he’ll be in the Anderson pack’ thing and I’d lost my shit. I’d blocked him from my phone after telling him I never wanted to see him again.

Did pregnancy hormones play a bit of a factor into things? Probably. Had a picked a fight? Maybe.

Did it matter? Not really.

I keep trying to forgive Connor and I keep coming up to mental roadblocks. So it’s absolutely for the best that we both move on.

As I lie in bed, though, I pick up my phone. I’ve gotten a few texts since I last checked, and my heart skips a happy beat at the sight of UNKNOWN NUMBER.

My excited heartbeat slows. Of course it’s Craig texting me and not Connor. Connor doesn’t have this number. Craig’s the one I need to concentrate on. He’d be a good dad. He’s a cougar, with a stable job. He’s been around the block at his age and just wants a mate and a family. On paper, he’s perfect. I should be thrilled.

Thrilled.

I swallow hard, wondering why I stupidly feel close to tears. Instead of texting Craig a happy message back, though, I do a search online for Connor’s phone number. I find it and text a message.
Hey. It’s Sav. You left your keys?

I put my phone on the nightstand and close my eyes, trying to will myself to go to sleep. It’s nearly four in the morning, and I shouldn’t expect a response—

The phone buzzes against the nightstand.

I snatch it up and peer at the screen. It’s Connor. He’s up at this hour? Or was he waiting for me to contact him?

I frown at my phone. Even though I know it’s a bad idea, I type in,
It sounds like we need to talk. Do we need to talk in person?

My heart gives a traitorous flutter.

When?
I send.

Starbucks seems like a pretty easy place to dash in and out of.
Let’s meet at the one close to work. Ten AM okay?

I grit my teeth and resist the urge to text back a
don’t tell me what to do
. Instead, I send back a quick
K
and fling my phone on the bedside nightstand.

I don’t know how I feel about this. I’m one part scared, two parts excited. I shouldn’t be.

I go to sleep hugging my pillow and wondering what I’m going to wear that still fits over my pregnant belly and doesn’t look like ‘mom’ clothing.