Page 96 of Laurels and Liquor

Gideon’s alpha bark catches me off guard, and I can only sit in stunned silence for a moment. Not because the bark actually works on me, but because of the sudden shift in his demeanor. The snide, cocky ball-busting of a moment ago is gone, replaced by an angry, bitter alpha lashing out. I don’t know how or why, but it seems I may have it a little too close to home.

“I’m going to send you a request for what I need. Pay it, and we’ll find the omega,” Gideon continues, words clipped and cold as ice.

“And if I don’t?” I ask, unable to stop the question from escaping.

“Do you want to find out?” Gideon spits harshly.

I want to tell him where he can shove his sanctimonious bullshit. I want to tell him to fuck off in a hundred different ways. But I can’t. And judging by his silence, he knows it, too.

“Find him. Or you’ll learn how dirty I’m willing to get my hands to protect my pack,” I snap.

I don’t even bother waiting for an answer. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I hang up before tossing it carelessly onto my desk. My heart aches with worry, but I do my best to stop those feelings from leaking down my bonds. I send out a reassuring pulse to Lucas, and I can hear their muffled voices on the other side of my door before they eventually leave me be. My first impulse is to take care of my business and not involve them, but those days are over. I’ll explain everything in a few minutes, but I still sit motionless for another long moment. I need to get it together, and do what I have to do to protect my pack. But first, I need to call the bank to get this fucking money sent. I wish I could send it in pennies.

Chapter forty-nine

Lydia

Alittlewhilelater,I’m drifting in and out of awareness as Rhett and I snuggle together in his bed. I’ve been bathed and massaged until my muscles feel like cooked spaghetti, all the soreness from our play gone. Rain patters against the glass of the sliding door to the balcony, growing more intense with each passing minute.

“Is everything okay, love?” Rhett murmurs into my hair, half asleep himself.

I hum noncommittally. Something is bothering me, an unease I can’t quite place, strong enough to keep me awake, but not strong enough for me to be able to find the source. My bonds with Mateo and Lex are muted, but I’m not surprised. Considering the time, they’re probably asleep and the connections are always weaker then. Also, we’ve had to practice blocking the bonds temporarily when we’re having intimate moments, so we don’t make everyone else suddenly horny at potentially problematic times. But I can’t find a reason for my fight-or-flight response to be kicking in right now. I’m safe in Rhett’s arms, and I know the rest of the pack is at home. Maybe my instincts are picking up on something else?

“I want to text Gabby and Jason, see if they’re okay,” I say at last.

Rhett nods and lets me slide out of his embrace without fighting me. I look back at him, sprawled out on the bed, the sheets covering him from the waist down. The faint light coming through the sheer curtains gives his normally golden hair a silvery sheen, shadows stark against his pale skin. The ink of his pack motto tattoo almost seems to swallow light, rising gently as his breathing evens out. I smile a little to myself. Once I find my phone, I’ll have to try to get a picture of him like this. Though I’m not sure I could ever adequately capture the breathtaking beauty of my alpha in a single image.

Throwing on Rhett’s t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, I pad out into the hallway on bare feet. I stop in the playroom to rummage through my clothes, but my phone isn’t in the pockets of my jeans. I search around, but no luck. Huffing a sigh, I head out into the living room, trying to find my purse, but that’s not here either. Where did I leave it? I’m about to give up and wait until morning, but another pulse of worry fills my chest. I know better than to ignore my instincts, and if they’re giving me warnings this strong, then I need to listen. What if something happened to Wila? She’s not a spring chicken anymore, and the stress of opening the new location might have finally taken its toll. Or maybe Jason has run into a problem with our parents and that agreement he’s forcing them to sign.

I’m in the middle of pulling apart the couch cushions when the first clap of thunder rolls through the night outside of the glass. The storm is getting worse, and I suddenly wonder if I left the sunroof open in Rhett’s car. Then it hits me. I must have forgotten my bag in the car in my rush to get up here this afternoon. The rain comes down in sheets, hammering the sliding glass doors. Can this not wait until morning? I bite my lip before sighing, resigning myself to braving the weather for a few minutes if it means being able to put my anxiety to rest and get some sleep. Besides, if I get too cold and wet, Rhett will no doubt take care of warming me back up. I giggle at the thought, grabbing the keys off the kitchen island, heading toward the elevator and slipping into my flats, while I wait for the car to arrive. Even though I’m expecting it, the ring of the bell still makes me jump as it cracks through the silence, louder than even the growing thunder outside.

The ride down is slow, and I hum along to the generic jazz music playing softly through the hidden speakers. I fiddle with the car remote as I watch the floors count down, not that this elevator can stop at any of them. About halfway down, the lights flicker, following a massive thunder crash that I can hear even from here. There’s a brief pause and I send a quick prayer to whoever might be listening that the power doesn’t go out and leave me trapped in here. Small spaces don’t bother me, but spending time with nothing but my thoughts sounds like literal torture. I don’t even have my phone to keep me entertained. Thankfully, my prayer is answered as the car finally arrives at the bottom floor, the doors opening smoothly.

The lobby is graciously empty, not even an attendant at the front desk. I consider trying to find them, or a security guard, and ask where the stairs are, just so I don’t have to risk riding the elevator again during this storm. I even wander around the lobby for a minute, trying to find an employee of any kind, but it’s completely deserted. I eventually decide that I can manage. If I do get stuck on the way back up, at least I’ll have my phone with me to let someone know.

The rain hammers on the black stone overhang, thunder rolling almost constantly now, blinding flashes of lightning going off at random intervals. The torrent is almost biblical, and I pause one last time at the edge of the covered sidewalk closest to the reserved parking spots. It’s only a few hundred feet, but I’d still end up drenched. Sucking it up, I grit my teeth and take off at a jog toward the car. The doors unlock with a soft beep that’s barely audible over the pounding rain. My clothes are soaked within seconds, my hair growing heavy as it gets saturated, too. I pull open the driver’s side door and let out a triumphant little laugh as I spot my bag on the floor of the passenger’s side. Leaning in, I stretch until I manage to close my fingers around the strap.

As I shift back, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I’m suddenly filled with the certainty that I’m not alone. I freeze, panic filling me so completely that I can’t even breathe. It could be nothing, maybe a security officer coming to check on who’s climbing into one of the owner’s cars, but my primal fear instincts are in overdrive. My heart hammers in my chest, the rain on my back and hips not even registering as I strain for any sound or movement on the edges of my senses. I force myself to take a deep breath, adjusting my grip on my bag so I can swing it at anyone who gets too close. I used to have a self-defense key chain on my old keyring, but I haven’t carried those since the accident. I could try to put Rhett’s keys between my fingers, but would that take too much time? I’ve already wasted precious seconds. I need to move, get to safety, and I need to do it fast.

Steeling myself, I swallow against the sudden lump in my throat. Then, moving faster than I’ve ever done before, I pull my top half out of the car and whip around, looking frantically for anyone nearby. But the parking lot is dark, the lampposts in power-saving mode at this time of night. The only light is coming from the lobby, and it barely illuminates where I’m standing, let alone a few feet behind me. My eyes aren’t adjusted to the dark anymore, and I can only blink uselessly, unable to see anything through the rain splashing onto my face.

I glance behind me toward the doors, plotting my route. I just have to run, and not look back. If anyone is following me, I’ll be able to see them once I’m inside the lobby. One last glance into the parking lot, and then I’m off. I slip a little in my soaked shoes, but I don’t stop. As my foot comes down on a sharp rock, my ankle rolling painfully, I stop for a moment as not to lose my shoe.

But in that moment, my heart jumps into my throat as a thick-fingered hand closes around my bicep. My lips part to scream, but another hand comes up to cover my mouth, pulling me back into a broad chest. The training I’d done kicks in, pushing out the panic enough for me to remember what Rhett and Caleb taught me. I throw my elbows into my attacker’s ribs, trying to get them to loosen their grip enough for me to break free, to try to stomp on their instep as they drag me backwards away from the door. I scream as loud as I can, even with the hand pressed hard over my mouth and nose, hoping like hell someone might hear the struggle. I’m pulled back into him, an arm coming around my chest and ribs, pinning my arms down so I can’t fight, and I’m lifted off my feet for a moment as I try to dead weight, making me yelp in surprise.

“Just knock her out already,” a voice grumbles.

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, and my vision blurs, but that sound shakes something in my core. I know that voice, that gravelly smoker’s rasp. But before I can think much more than that, there’s a sharp prick of pain on the side of my neck, a needle. I try to fight more, but it’s too late. All too soon, my movements slow as whatever drug they’ve injected into me drags me under into unconsciousness.

Chapter fifty

Mateo

Sethhasgonemissing.

Lex describes her phone call with her cousin, but I can’t take in anything she’s saying. My mind is stuck on those four words. I could almost kick myself for letting myself relax. I should have known this would happen. We should have known better than to trust Seth to keep his word. And now we have to sit on our asses, waiting for him to be found, and hope like hell that happens before anyone gets hurt.

I don’t trust Gideon St. Clair as far as I can throw him, and having to listen to his blatant profiteering off our misery, even secondhand, only makes me dislike him more. And once Lex is done speaking, we sit in the quiet for a long time, not sure what to say.

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