Page 69 of Pack Rivals, Part One

I screech to a stop before I collide right into the man. His SUV is parked up behind him, and his keys are in his hand.

"What are you doing?" he asks, frowning at me.

"What amIdoing?" I ask, in confusion, swiping sweat from my already damp brow. "What areyoudoing?"

"Come to check you are okay."

I stare up at him, panting, bending over to rest my hands on my thighs. "One, I'm perfectly fine. Two, what the hell?"

"You can't be out running on your own, Omega."

I snap upright. "Don't tell me what to do!" I say with such force, he takes a startled pace backwards.

"I'm not telling you what to do. I'm telling you it's not safe."

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm not living my life locked inside because a bunch of shitheads can't–"

"I'm not telling you to lock yourself away either." He crosses his arms.

"Then what exactly are you telling me?" I cross my arms too. My legs cramp and I have to resist the urge to shake them. That and the urge to swallow down lungfuls of this man's scent. Plus the urge to peek at those crossed arms, his biceps bulging and straining the fabric of his t-shirt.

I blink. T-shirt?

"Wait!" I hold my hand up, my heart pounding in my chest. "Wait, wait, wait. How did you know I was out running? How did you know where I was?" I lift my left foot up and check the bottom of my sneaker. Then do the same with my right.

"What are you doing?"

"Searching for a tracker."

He snorts. "If I wanted to place a tracker on you, I'd do it on your phone."

I stamp down my foot. Yeah, of course. "Have you put a tracker on my phone?"

"No."

"Then–"

"I've had my men watching your house."

"Jesus Christ! That's …. That's …" Kind of creepy and yet sort of … sweet?

"I know you didn't want anyone stationed at your door, but I couldn't in all good conscience leave you unguarded, Bea. If anything happened to you …" He shifts his weight from one foot to the other looking suitably sheepish. "I'm sorry. I should have been upfront about it."

"You should." I chew on my lip, considering whether to start running again and leave him here.

"You like running?" he says at last.

"Yes."

"And I suppose I'm not going to be able to convince you to come and run on the treadmill at our place?"

He has a treadmill in his house? I try not to think about how big that probably makes it.

"No, I like running outside."

I had no idea how much I'd missed it until my feet had pounded the sidewalk.

"Then you need a running partner. Someone who can protect you."

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