Dogfight (Alpha MC: The McKinnon Brothers Book 1) (14 page)

Frankie spun, taking her with him, and then they faced six very large fighting dogs, all growling and advancing on her and Frankie. They had barreled into the kennel so fast that neither of them had noticed the dogs’ cages were open.

Frankie laughed. “You think my dogs will attack me? They fear me!”

Another bark from outside. One of the dogs inside barked, charging at Casey and Frankie. He yelled at the dog, commanding it so stop, but the dog only went wilder. Frankie backed away, keeping her in front of him.

“I mean it, McKinnon,” Frankie called, but his voice had lost its edge. “Get the fuck out of here.” He cocked the gun, the sound loud, chilling Casey’s heart.

The silence that followed stretched too long. Casey thought maybe Connor had decided to leave her behind. And then there was a round of howls, the sound both chilling and beautiful.

The dogs snarled, moving in for the kill. Frankie yelled commands, but nothing worked as the dogs darted at them, retreated, and darted again. One of the dogs bit Frankie’s leg. He yelled, outraged, and turned the gun on the dog.

“No!” Casey shouted, grabbing his arm. The gun went off, the bullets lodging into the walls. She and Frankie struggled for the gun. A huge rotti-pittbull lunged at Frankie, his jaws latching onto his gun arm.

Frankie screamed, terror widening his eyes. The gun clattered to the floor. Casey felt the sharp scrape of fangs on her ankle, and then pain ripped across her shoulder as she was yanked from the kennel, and then landed on the ground.

Connor slammed the door closed. Frankie screamed, his dogs snarling as they ripped him apart.

Aidan and Liam shifted into humans, and all three stood before her, naked and decorated with tattoos, some the same, others different. She stared up at them, her gratitude in her eyes. Liam scoffed and left her in the dirt.

“Five minutes,” Aidan said, and he followed Liam.

Connor watched them go and then looked at Casey, his gaze cold and urgent. “You have somewhere you can go?”

She nodded. “My friend’s in—”

“Don’t. If I don’t know, they can’t get it out of me. Take one of Frankie’s cars and go. Don’t stop until you get there. Don’t call the police. Let Jenny Cartwright die.”

“But the dogs,” she said, scrambling to her feet.

“What about them?”

“That’s why I came. I was going to get them out of here, bring them to my friend’s place.”

“Why?” His confusion turned to anger. “Are you actually a dogfighter?”

“No! We rehabilitate abused animals, get them to good homes.”

“You’re kidding me.”

She shook her head. She loved animals, more than she liked people. The things that people could do to animals… it sickened her.

Connor stared at her, his face a mixture of amusement and… admiration?

She thought he would argue, call her an idiot for such a worthless cause. But he simply nodded, barked at the kennel door, and all went quiet.

Casey didn’t look when he opened the door and got all of the dogs. Some were covered in blood. She didn’t think they could be rehomed, but they could stay on Mariam’s farm. The dogs followed a shifted Connor, his wolf body looking as battered as his human one. She followed behind them.

In the garage, Connor shifted again and pulled on a pair of coveralls, found her a set of keys, and loaded the dogs into the back of a van. He tossed in blankets for them. They did as he commanded and curled up and slept. She had all of the dogs settled and ready to go.

Aidan and Liam had gone to their bikes by the lake. She could hear them roaring to life now. She hesitated, the keys in her hand.

With everything she wanted to say to him, all that came out was, “Thank you.”

He nodded, his face grim. Still she didn’t get in the van.

“You have to go, Casey. My pack won’t allow you to live.”

“They’re going to punish all of you for letting me go, aren’t they?”

He cast his eyes to the floor. “Yeah.”

“Liam won’t be happy.”

“He isn’t.”

“They why is he doing it?”

“For me.”

“Why?”

He lifted his eyes, meeting hers with such intensity she felt her breath catch.

“Why do you think?”

She nodded, a lump making it too hard to try to speak. Her hand was on the door when she whipped around and hugged him, burying her face in his neck, breathing in the smell of him. He let her hug him, but his hands remained by his sides.

Finally, she let go, her throat too tight to do more than nod. She got in the van, gunned the engine, and allowed herself one last, long look at the sad man standing outside the window, at those beautiful bright eyes. And then she left.

The dogs lay quiet behind her, peaceful and free.

She passed Aidan and Liam on their bikes. Aidan watched her go, his face a mask of indifference. Liam shook his head and spat on the ground.

In five or six hours, maybe more because of the van, she would be in Maine, the dogs would run free, and she would never see Connor McKinnon again. But she would be alive.

Some small part of her wondered if it was worth it.

Chapter Thirty

Casey sat on the porch swing, a cooling cup of coffee in hand. The sun was just beginning to set, turning all of the red and yellow and brown leaves into a golden fire. Out in the field, Mariam threw a tennis ball, and fourteen dogs chased after it.

It had been three months since she got the dogs away from Frankie’s, and in that time Mariam had managed to turn the vicious fighters into sappy lapdogs. Some would never get placed in a home, but they would stay here with Mariam. Others would be ready for fostering by the New Year.

A great amount of satisfaction came from knowing that the dogs were safe, but Casey was done with that life. Too much was at stake when she assumed a different identity, stole from the sort of people she did. The last time had been the ultimate fuck up, and she was done.

A month after Casey arrived, Mariam had served them dinner on the screened porch out back where they could see the large kennels, all chain link but open to the sky, with doghouses in each.

The older woman, with her graying hair tied back in a braid, set down plates of eggplant parmesan and snapped her fingers in front of Casey’s face.

“Sorry, thanks.” Casey picked at her food.

Mariam chewed quietly for a while before starting up a conversation. “Frankie Sway’s murder was closed today. Cops decided a dogfighter killed by his own dogs didn’t need more looking into.”

Casey nodded. She had been following the news reports. His body and those of his men had been found several weeks after Casey got out of there. She knew he’d had a fight coming up in a few days, which meant those people arrived, saw the carnage, and left without notifying police. She’d heard it had been one of his cooks who found his men’s bodies decomposing, baked in the hot sun, and stinking with flies. The dogs were reported missing, but no more had been done to find them.

Mariam spoke, bringing Casey out of her head.

“Why don’t you take a vacation? Take your dad to Hawaii.”

“He won’t fly.”

“Take yourself to Hawaii. Get out of here for a while. Give yourself a break.”

Casey shrugged, the setting sun warm on her face.

“He don’t know you’re here, Case.”

Her eyes snapped to Mariam’s. “I know that. I’m not waiting for him.”

Mariam’s eyes were sad when she spoke again. “You sure?”

After that Casey made it a point to be smiling and helpful when Mariam was watching her. She knew Connor wasn’t coming for her. Why would he? She was an insignificant blip in his life, a problem that had caused more problems, and was now out of the way. She needed to forget him.

Maybe she would go to Hawaii. She’d always wanted to, and now that she didn’t have a job, and had more money saved up than she knew what to do with, she could just go and disappear. Stay in the tropics. Get drunk and fuck every Samoan she could find. Any guy would do as long as he had dark eyes.

It was a good idea. She stood, leaving her coffee behind to let Mariam know she was going to book the next flight to Hawaii when she heard the roar of a motorcycle.

Mariam heard it, too, because she called the dogs to follow her and put them in their kennels.

Casey watched the driveway, her stomach in a knot, as Mariam ran around the house, meeting her on the porch.

“Did they find you?” She was out of breath.

Casey didn’t know. Maybe Aidan was a better hacker than she gave him credit for. Maybe he had found her and the MC was finally going to kill her. Figures, she thought, she’d sat around and done nothing for three months and the moment she decides to go have some fun, they find her.

Only one bike came around the bend in the driveway, the overhanging trees making it hard to see the rider. Casey’s stomach clenched so tight she thought she was going to be sick. She should run, but where would she go? If whoever was coming was a shifter; they would catch her, so why prolong the inevitable?

The bike pulled to a stop in front of the porch, the motor cut, and silence hummed.

“Help you?” Mariam said. She’d grabbed her shotgun from beside the door and leveled it at the newcomer.

The rider stepped off the bike and pulled his helmet off. Casey’s heart slammed in her chest. Of all the people they would send to kill her, why did it have to be him?

Somehow, she found her voice, though it trembled. “Aidan’s better than I thought.”

Connor nodded and set his helmet on the bike. His hair had grown a little longer. He stayed where he was, his eyes on the shotgun. “Took him a while, but he traced a bunch of IDs given to stray dogs in this area. Seemed fitting.”

“Damn it,” Mariam muttered. “Well, you can go on back and tell your president that all you found was an old woman and her dogs.”

Connor turned to Casey, a question in his eyes.

She clarified. “I told her about your MC coming after me for messing up your job.”

“But you actually messed up her job, Mr. Murphy.”

Understanding bloomed in Connor’s eyes. He stepped around his bike and came toward Casey.

“Hold up, stop just there.” Mariam cocked the gun, and Connor stopped, his eyes on Casey. “You just leave her alone, hear me?”

“I tried,” he said. “I can’t.”

Casey felt the bubble of hope in her chest burst. She ran down the steps, Mariam shouting, and flung herself into Connor’s arms. He caught her, wrapped his arms tight around her, holding her close, his face in her neck. And then he kissed her. Not some sweet, loving kiss, but the kind of kiss that made her toes curl and her stomach clench.

He broke the kiss and spoke into her hair. “They’re still looking for you. They won’t stop.”

“What do we do?”

He hugged her tighter. “We run.”

She met his bright eyes in the dusky light. “I was thinking of going to Hawaii.”

He smiled. “I was thinking somewhere farther away.”

“As long as it’s warm and you’re there, I’ll go anywhere.”

“Good.” And he kissed her again.

About the Authors

Alana Hart

Alana Hart is an American romance writer who decided that writing with friends is better than writing alone.  Hartfelt Books brings together a huge group of sweet and steamy romance authors, collaborating on a new line of books that will have your heart pounding.

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When she’s not writing, Allison Teller enjoys trivia nights with chips and guacamole, maybe a margarita, too. She likes quiet nights at home with her husband and son, but goes out once in a while so that people won’t realize what a hermit she is.

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Romance Collaborations from the Hart

BONUS MATERIAL

Please enjoy the first chapter from another Hartfelt Books title -

SAVING HER BEAR
 (The Bears of Blackrock, Book One)

CHAPTER ONE

“Just come home, honey. We can figure this all out.”

Catherine stood just outside the rest area convenience store waiting for her cousin Bennett to return from his snack and potty run. She held the phone to her ear with a strange tension in her stomach. She hadn’t wanted to hear her mother’s voice again so soon.

“No, I’m not coming home.”

Her mother made a huffing sound on the other end of the line. “You’re being ridiculous! I know Charlie can get a little out of hand sometimes, but it’s all settled now. It’s all settled and – you know Grampy doesn’t need you coming up there and putting him out like that.”

Catherine closed her eyes. This was a fear she harbored, but there was a truth she wasn’t willing to share about going back north to Maine. There was more there than just Grampy Calhoun’s potential guest bedroom.

“Mom, if I had any other choice, believe me, I wouldn’t be looking to stay with Grampy.”

“Does he even know you’re coming? Has Bennett asked his father if you’re even welcome? Damn it, Catie! Just come back before you upset everybody.”

“Never. I will never set foot in that house again.”

Linda Calhoun groaned on the other end of the line. “How am I gonna take care of the house? What am I supposed to do?”

Catherine’s eyes were welling up. Hearing her mother try to guilt her to come home was both infuriating and heartbreaking. Why couldn’t she see what she was doing?

“You lied! You lied for that piece of shit and I almost went to fucking jail. Your house can burn to the ground for all I care!”

“Don’t say that, Catie. It’s not my fault -”

Bennett appeared at her shoulder and Catherine practically deflated in relief. “We’re getting back on the road. Good bye, Mom. Good bye!”

She hung up, turning to receive the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups Bennett had snagged for her.

She smiled up at her cousin. “Thank you.”

Bennett nodded, then started back toward the truck. “You almost went to jail?”

Catherine glared at him. “Don’t.”

They piled back into the truck, and a few moments later, Catherine’s new friend Jean returned from the restroom. They were off, hauling ass out of Kennebunk the way only Bennett could, his mighty engine growling up the onramp of Route 95. Catherine had to ignore four calls from her mother by the time they were coming into Bangor.

“You’ve never been this far north?”

Bennett was glancing into his rearview mirror at Jean Trainor, giving her more attention than Catherine would like. She didn’t mind that he was chatting her up, what she minded was that he wouldn’t keep his damn eyes on the road.

“Benny!” Catherine shrieked as they veered a little too close to the guardrail.

He straightened, scoffing at her. “Calm down, cuz. I’m not gonna kill us. Jesus.”

“Yeah, then quit acting like it.”

“No, I’ve never been this far north. Pretty sure I’ve never been past Old Orchard Beach,” Jean said, leaning her blonde head over the front seat to be a part of the conversation. She gave Catherine’s shoulder a quick scratch to show her solidarity. Catherine wasn’t the only one hoping Bennett would keep them alive.

Bennett whistled. “Well, then you’re in for a treat. This is what real Maine looks like.”

Catherine laughed. They were in the no man’s land of Route 95 between Bangor and Cherryfield. There was nothing to praise here save for trees and more trees – and maybe a couple dilapidated barns.

“It looks lovely,” Jean offered.

Bennett shook his head. “Wait til we get to camp. Acadia’s got nothing on Blackrock.”

Catherine didn’t disagree. Still, she’d grown up around these parts, where the nearest Target or Home Depot was at least an hour and a half drive. It was almost four hours to the nearest Trader Joe’s. Despite the sad circumstances of her family’s moving away, she couldn’t say she didn’t enjoy the convenience of living closer to civilization.

“Did Catherine tell you the creepy shit that happened in Blackrock when we were kids?”

Catherine groaned, rolling her eyes. “Please don’t.”

Jean shook Bennett’s shoulder. He smiled at her touch.

“No, please do. I love this kind of stuff,” she said.

“You sure? It’s kinda scary, and you’re gonna be sleeping in these woods tonight with no one to protect you.”

Catherine shook her head, but Jean pleaded with him. “I’ll have you. Come on, now. Don’t listen to Catherine. Tell me.”

Bennett flushed at her comment, his full face turning a pretty pink. Bennett wasn’t a slender man. He was built like a rugby player, thick in every part of him, much like all of the Calhoun men in her family. His brown hair was shorn short in a buzz-cut, now growing out enough to give a full bristly texture when someone ran their hand over his head. He was a handsome guy, and Catherine thought Jean could do far worse than cuddle up to a guy like Bennett.

Bennett set off to tell the tale of the Blackrock swimming hole, a place she’d ventured with him many times when they were kids.

In Blackrock, there’s this popular spot where everyone likes to go in the summer. There’s a lake and miles of woods – it’s called Parkhurst. We used to swim there, my dad likes to hunt there – just super popular. So, there’s this rope swing that hangs out over the water. You climb up this massive boulder, grab on and pray your grip is strong enough to carry you long enough to make it to the water. I’ve seen some guys just bite it after a night of drinking, thinking they could hold on, and just dropped like a stone to the beach. It’s not a huge drop, but I’ve seen some split chins.

“Get on with it, Benny,” Catherine said.

Sorry, sorry.

Anyway, so Catherine and I went there all the time when we were kids. One day we get down there and a couple of my friends from school are there with their family – you remember those guys, right Catie?

Catherine nodded. Yes, she remembered his friends. She remembered one in particular.

Well, they’re there, but they’re not swimming. Their parents are there taking their boats out over the water, and a couple of em are putting on goggles, swimming across the lake.

Catherine felt a chill run down her spine remembering that day. It was one of the last times she ever went swimming there.

“Sounds like fun!” Jean said, glancing at Catherine for explanation to Bennett’s tone.

“That’s the thing. They weren’t having fun. They were ‘trudging’ the lake.”

Jean gave a half gasp.

“Apparently, a woman named Alison Fenn had gone for a walk in the woods a few nights earlier and never came back.”

“Did you really need to tell this story, Ben? God, you’re gonna ruin my day.”

Bennett smiled at Catherine. “Don’t worry. You’ll feel better when you hear who might be there tonight.”

Catherine stopped, turning to stare at him. She licked her lips, glancing at Jean’s confused expression. “Who?”

Bennett just smiled. “She knows who.”

Jean tapped Bennett then, egging him on. “So what happened? Did they find her?”

“That’s the thing. See, she disappeared way off in this town called Falkirk’s Seat, but her whole family was down there in Blackrock – miles away from where she disappeared - scouring Parkhurst fucking Lake.”

Catherine stared out the window as they passed through a small town, watching as one of the only grocery stores for a half hour in every direction passed by in a blur.

“The cops thought they were lunatics, cause they were off searching the woods in Falkirk’s Seat, but wouldn’t you know it, they found her in that lake. Her fucking brother found her body in the damn lake.”

Jean gasped again. “Oh my god, that’s horrible. What happened to her?”

Bennett was relishing her rapt attention. Catherine was willing herself deaf. It was one of the worst memories of her childhood – the murder of Alison Fenn. She’d been a schoolteacher at Blackrock Elementary School, and one of the few truly sweet people Catherine had ever known. Sadly, the Calhoun family wasn’t known for their loving natures.

“She’d been shot. Cops tried to pin it on one of the Fenn family, given they knew where to find her body and all.”

“Did they figure out who did it?”

Catherine shook her head, answering before Bennett could. “No. Couldn’t find the rifle to match the bullet. No one was ever charged.”

Jean slumped back into her seat. “Jesus, that’s some harrowing shit.”

Bennett glanced into the rearview, swerving just so as he did. Catherine slapped his arm and he returned his attention to the road.

“Sorry,” he said. “Yeah, but you want to know the creepiest part?”

Jean was leaning forward again, instantly. “Yes!”

“Four years later? The body of Gregory Fenn washed up in Falkirk Seat Harbor.”

Jean and Bennett continued this conversation, but Catherine simply couldn’t listen anymore. These were stories she knew well. Everyone from Blackrock to Machias knew about the Fenn murders. No one was ever charged. They rattled the small towns in Downeast Maine and were part of the reason why her family moved away from Blackrock, coming to settle in North Conway, New Hampshire. Catherine finished high school in New Hampshire, ended up attending UNH. She never went back north to Blackrock. She had her reasons, and the murders weren’t one of them.

No, she’d never come back to Blackrock because of the boy named John Fenn.

Bennett continued talking about the murders, about how the police interrogated every member of the Fenn family, from the patriarch, Patrick Fenn; a gray haired beast of a man who owned property in all corners of the county, to John and Deacon Fenn, Patrick’s teenage grandsons. Catherine remembered sneaking out of the house to go be with John when the town was turning against his family, threatening to get into fist fights at school when other kids began teasing him, calling his family a bunch of murderers. John didn’t need defending, and the kids at school knew it. However much they teased him, there wasn’t a single kid stupid enough to try to fight John Fenn.

Meanwhile, as the kids were making his life hell, he was trying to mourn the loss of his Great Uncle, just a few years after losing his favorite Aunt.

Catherine knew the Fenn’s had nothing to do with the murders, but no one in town knew them like she did. She’d had dinner at John’s dinner table numerous times, and was beloved of his mother Janice and his father Carl. When her parents discovered that she was sneaking out at night to have supper at the murderer’s house, they packed her up in their Toyota and hauled her to North Conway.