Page 2 of A Beta Protects

He’d be in his usual chair at the kitchen diner, his gun on the table and a smile on his handsome face as he said, “Did my sweet wife miss me?”

Except that last day.

That last day I realized we were out of BBQ sauce, so I ran to the grocery store, thinking I’d be back well before he came home. A problem with a malfunctioning cash register meant I was gone far longer than I’d intended.

His truck was in the driveway as I approached our house.

I imagined him in the kitchen, frowning at the seasoned steak I’d left beside the iron pan, plates on the table, and no sweet wife to greet him.

I had nothing.

Just a few dollars in my pocket and a jar of BBQ sauce on the passenger seat. Not nearly enough to start a brand new life. I’d known one day I would leave him. I’d planned out exactly how I’d do it. But that day, I saw his truck in the driveway and instead of pulling my car up beside his, I put my foot down and just kept driving.

Past the house that was more of a cage than a home. Past the life I regret ever choosing.

Away.

Another sign flashes up on my right.

I have a split second to read it before I’ve passed it.

Wylder. Population of… not sure. Writing was too small to read it.

It’s past 9 as I drive through the small town, and the faint scent of baking makes my stomach rumble.

As I pull off the main road, down a dirt trodden side road, cicadas or some other insects hum in the forest, and a pretty farmhouse with a couple of downstairs lights on is just ahead. It’s nice, if a little isolated.

It seems fitting for the man I came here to see. He was always a little sharp whenever I spoke to him, and so intense I knew he hated me.

I never knew what I did to get on his bad side, but right from the first time he saw me, he had a problem with me.

I’d climbed out of my car and rounded the front, my belly freezing from hugging the bowl of macaroni salad fresh from the refrigerator. My gaze had clashed with my big brother’s endlessly tall, distractingly attractive, dark-haired next-door neighbor. He had a stubbled jaw carved from granite, a sloped nose, and velvety dark brown eyes a person could fall into.

I liked him.

Sure, I was standing next to Bryce at the time, but you can’t help who you like and when you’ll like them. The feeling just hits, and sometimes it sticks on landing. And my attraction to Dom? It stuck.

So maybe it was a good thing he hated me, because married women should not be thinking a man’s eyes are deep enough to fall into. Other than her husband. Of course.

His coldness bothered me before. It doesn’t now. When you have nowhere to go, an enemy becomes a friend.

Pulling my car to a stop, I leave the engine running because who knows what kind of welcome I’m going to get? I climb out, and before I can take a step toward the pretty farmhouse, I spot someone sitting on the porch steps. They were so still, my eyes must have skipped right over their figure. But now I see them.

And I halt.

The person—the man—shoves himself to his feet.

It’s near dark now. The sun has finished setting behind me, so he’s mostly in shadows. I can’t read his expression or even see his face, but his lean build and coiled strength is as familiar as the man who hated me five years before.

“Kira?” He takes a step down the porch steps.

I summon the ‘everything is perfectly fine in the world of Kira Matherson smile’ that I spent the last five years perfecting. “Hi, Dom.”

2

DOM

Iremember the first time I saw her.

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