Page 34 of Untamed Instincts

“What?” Harris glanced out of the window for the millionth time, like Noah would pull into his driveway and tell him this was all a prank.

“Don’t call the National Guard.” Layne hung up.

“Like I have the power to do that, jackass,” Harris growled even though Layne couldn’t hear him.

Why had Noah waited until now to have a rebellious streak? Wasn’t that supposed to happen during the teenage years?

Harris was deep in thought when someone knocked on his door. Maybe it was Noah coming to his senses.

Crossing the room, Harris opened the front door. A good-looking stranger with striking blue eyes and hair the color of sandy beaches stood there wearing a gorgeous smile, hands tucked behind his back.

He reminded Harris of a surfer, the kind who wore coral necklaces and always had a surfboard tucked under an arm.

“Can I help you?”

The guy’s smile turned into a smirk, pulling his right arm from behind his back. He aimed a gun at Harris.

“Come quietly with me or your friend dies.”

Noah! “What have you done with him!” Harris demanded, his heart beating like crazy.

The stranger pulled out his phone with his free hand. “Your friend is currently with mine. If you make me repeat myself, I’ll send a text to kill Noah.”

Harris had no idea what his best friend was wrapped up in, but it had just landed on his doorstep.

Again.

Chapter Eight

Quinton was quiet the entire ride to his house. Noah had explained to him about leaving and how his sons had tracked him down—though neither Killian nor Ryker would tell Noah how they’d done it—but when he’d finished talking, all Quinton had said was to pack a bag.

Noah hadn’t argued. He’d simply grabbed a small duffel bag from his tiny closet and packed his clothes, along with his toiletries. The apartment had come furnished, and since it was so small, Noah hadn’t bought anything to make the space his own.

There hadn’t been enough room to add anything else.

His mom still kept his bedroom at home, and that was where Noah stored the bulk of his things. Even a lot of his clothes still hung in his old bedroom closet and were stuffed in his dresser drawers.

Since he had no idea how long he would be at Quinton’s, what he had in the duffel bag was everything he’d brought to his apartment when he’d moved in.

When they arrived at Quinton’s, Noah grabbed his bag from the back seat of the red pickup. He didn’t bother checking out the house when they entered. His mind was still rattled and confused from everything that had happened so far. Plus, he hated the fact his mate was angry with him. After he’d returned to his apartment and Quinton had woken up, Noah’s day had gone from terrifying chaos to enjoyable.

He even liked Killian’s and Ryker’s offbeat personalities. And Mrs. Baker? She’d blown Noah’s mind with her shameless flirting. If only Quinton hadn’t asked what they were hiding from him. That one question had tanked their good time and put everyone in a solemn mood.

Not even Ryker and Killian had said more than two words after Noah explained about his escape.

“This way,” Quinton said as Noah followed behind him. They climbed the stairs to the second floor, and then he showed Noah to his bedroom. “You can set your bag aside. I’ll clean out a few drawers for your things in a little bit.”

Noah had had enough of the silent treatment, something he’d always hated. Whenever his parents had done it to him, they’d made him feel like a bad kid, like he was a huge disappointment to them. Although it hadn’t been their intention, they’d nurtured his insecurities when they’d ignored him, causing his anxiety to skyrocket.

His stepfather hadn’t been any better. Jack had pretty much ignored Noah’s existence, unless the guy needed something or Noah went to him for useless advice. Then he’d had to endure a boatload of arrogance, especially when Jack’s friends were around.

What a jerk.

Thankfully Layne had always said what was on his mind, even if Noah hated getting read the riot act. But at least he’d known how Layne felt. The same with Harris. His best friend had always spoken his mind, which Noah appreciated. It was better than being ignored. The guy had always been there for him, had always had Noah’s back.

Which reminded him that he would have to call Harris soon and come up with some excuse for today. He’d left his friend with a bunch of unanswered questions and a lot of worry, which wasn’t fair to their friendship.

Fed up with the cold-shoulder treatment, Noah stormed over to the bedroom door and closed it, though he’d really wanted to slam it shut. “You’re pissed I snuck out, I get it,” Noah argued, “but can you blame me? My apartment was invaded, you got stabbed, two men died, one right in my living room, and I was nearly kidnapped. Forgive me for panicking.”

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