Page 121 of Unhinged
Brydgett's smiling ear to ear, skipping right after Gears.
She’s reckless with it, her scent getting sweeter, heavier; making every alpha in the room twitch and glance her way. Too close to heat. Too fucking tempting.
"Mayhem, how the hell did you get here before they did if they drove past you?" I ask, hoping to God he ain't a rat.
"They gave me a five-minute head start after they smashed the barricades. Said they wanted to see your faces when you saw who it was."
"Who the hell?" I mutter.
Gears whirls around, nose to chest with Gidge.
"Stay here, woman. I don't need you out there in danger until we know what's what."
She pats his shoulder, darts around him.
"I believe they said they're here for the Renegade Queen, and that's me, is it not?"
She's out the door, and we're hot on her heels.
A black F150 screeches to a halt twenty feet away, followed by a hot pink Eclipse Spyder and a silver sage Suburban.
First one outta the Suburban is Franko. Thick-built bastard, wearing a red plaid shirt under a black leather cut. His hair is buzzed short on the sides, dark and neat, with a sharp little goatee. Same cocky fucking smirk he always wore, like he owns every patch of dirt he walks on. Chin up, arms loose, like he is not worried about a goddamn thing. I know Franko—and I still don’t like the way he is smiling, like he is about two seconds from selling us something and robbing us blind while we thank him for it.
A man from the truck and a male and female from the Eclipse follow.
"What a welcome! Gears, my man, you know how to throw a fucking party!" Franko calls out, grinning wide like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
"The fuck are you doing here, Franko?" Gears snaps.
"Came to see an old friend," he says, all smiles.
"You ain't got no friends here," Gears spits.
"That ain't true. I'm looking at one of my oldest friends right now."
"Who?" Arrow voices.
"You gonna stand there all night looking at me or come give me a hug?" Franko opens his arms wide.
Gidge steps forward, runs straight at him, jumps into his arms.
My whole damn body locks up. Gears goes stiff beside me, a low rumble vibrating his chest. Arrow tenses, jaw flexing hard enough I hear it pop. Every alpha instinct I got screams to yank her outta his arms—to remind every son of a bitch here who she belongs to.
Only thing stopping me is the way Gidge smiles, like she's not scared. Still don't mean I ain't two seconds from gutting him.
Then she squeals and hugs the blonde woman from the Eclipse. She’s all long legs and curves. Tight black tank, ripped jeans, hair a mess of honey waves. She’s already smirking like she knows she's the hottest thing in the lot.
"Omega?" Gears snaps. "What the fuck is going on?"
"I invited a few friends to the party," Gidge says, all nonchalant.
"How the fuck do you know this asshole?" I ask. My vision goes red for a second.
I take a step forward without thinkin', ready to tear that fucker apart for putting his hands on what's mine. Gears catches my arm, fingers digging in like iron.
"Easy," he growls under his breath, voice tight.
Arrow’s right there too, blocking me from making a scene, but his eyes are just as dark, just as full of murder. Doesn't matter that Gidge is laughing—doesn’t matter that she ain’t scared.
