A comfortable silence filled the cab. The only sound was the occasional grinding of gears when the truck struggled to pull the heavy load up a long grade. As they coasted down the other side, Phoebe shifted in her seat and let out a contented sigh.
"So, if money doesn't mean much in the Boundarylands, what are you going to trade the gas for?" she asked. "Food? Tools? That kind of stuff?"
"Nothing."
"What do you mean, nothing?"
Roman was amused by her bafflement. These last remnants of a beta way of seeing the world would fade in time, but for now, they served as a reminder of how far they'd already come.
"I mean that we're delivering it to the uplands bar. It's a gathering place for all the alphas up there, like a community center and trading post and tavern all in one. It has an underground tank with a couple of pumps, and we'll be dropping this tank off there."
"And you're not going to charge them?"
"Nope," he said. "No need to."
"Because you're rich."
"Well, yeah." Roman had told Phoebe about the fortune that was just sitting in the bank. "But also because they need it. These guys in the uplands have been getting regular fuel shipments for years. They trade gas with the lowlands for dry goods and other supplies. It's always worked fine. But a few months ago, the shipments stopped."
"Why?"
Roman frowned, determined not to ruin his good mood. "No one knows why, but we do know that without fuel, there's not much chance of any of us surviving past winter."
Phoebe said nothing for a moment, but he could sense her thinking it through, her scent shifting from curiosity to admiration. "So that's why you hired my family to bring you black-market gas," she said softly. "It was never for profit. It was for the other alphas."
Roman had thought it was obvious. He wasn't doing this for the accolades, but knowing that she approved of his plan filled him with pride. "Here in the midlands, we like to keep to ourselves," he explained. "I might not see my alpha brothers more than once or twice a year, but that doesn't change the fact that they are my brothers."
Phoebe slipped her hand into his.
"I understand," she said. "I feel the same way about my family."
Wait—no. "This isn't the same," Roman said, bristling.
"Of course it is," Phoebe said, grinning. "Don't get all grumpy. I don't know what's going on with my family half the time either, but I still love them enough to try to keep them from harm."
Roman let out a low grumble. He supposed that was fair. "Okay, but if that's true, then so is the other part."
"What other part?"
"The part where you still love them even if you rarely see them. Emphasis on the rarely seeing them part."
Phoebe tilted her head, giving him the puppy-dog look that she knew he couldn't resist. "Are you seriously still worried that I'm going to leave you for them?"
"No." He'd spoken too quickly, and the word felt bitter on his tongue. Phoebe was always honest with him; he owed her the truth in return. "Maybe."
Phoebe leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Well, don't be. Because I would never willingly leave you, Roman. You're my alpha. Hell, you're my life."
Her alpha. Her life.
Damn, Roman liked the sound of that. Phoebe's words floated around in his head for the rest of the trip. As he pulled into the dirt parking lot of the uplands bar, he was filled with a sense of deep satisfaction and gratitude that he was the lucky bastard who had ended up with this amazing woman.
In fact, he was feeling better than he could remember at any other point in his life—right up until the second he spotted the Whitfield's beat-up truck parked right in front of the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Phoebe couldn't believe her eyes. Parked at a careless angle in front of the large wood-sided structure was her family's beat-up old Ford with its rust spots and mismatched panels. She could even see her brother's faded denim jacket slung over the seat.
"My family!" she yelped, her hand already on the door handle. "They're here!"
She couldn't move fast enough, unbuckling her seatbelt and jumping down from the truck. Little puffs of red dirt billowed up from beneath the soles of her shoes as she hit the ground.
"Whoa!" Roman's shout stopped Phoebe when she was halfway to the bar's front door. She reluctantly turned to see thunderclouds gathering in his stony expression. "Where do you think you're going?"
Wasn't it obvious? "To find Dad and Holden!"
But when Roman slammed the driver's side door so hard the entire truck shook, she forced herself to stay put.
"Without me?"
Oh God—not this again, not now. Phoebe thought they were past this.
"Come on, my love," she said with a sigh. "You have to know by now that I'm not going to leave you."
His gaze narrowed slightly as he glanced over at the front door. "It's not you I'm worried about."
He was telling the truth—it was her family's presence that had him so upset. And Phoebe couldn't blame him. Though she loved her family with her whole heart, she also knew exactly who—and what—they were, right down to every last one of their shortcomings. Holden and Ed Whitfield were petty thieves and hustlers, inept on a good day and bungling the rest of the time, apt to lose sight of the big picture and forget the small details.
In fact, the only real strength they could claim was family loyalty, something that had both blessed and cursed Phoebe. She didn't know what they were doing here, but she suspected it had to do with the Whitfield brand of love and devotion—which meant it probably involved skirting if not outright ignoring the law and taking whatever they thought they could get away with.
Which was an extremely dangerous thing to do when there were heightened alpha senses involved.
"Don't be silly," she told Roman, trying to project confidence that she didn't feel. "This bar is full of alphas. My dad and brother won't even be able to wink at me without half the uplands knowing."
Roman grumbled as he came around the truck to join her, but she could tell that his hackles had settled, which was a relief. The days when she was afraid of her alpha were over—but that didn't mean that she wasn't afraid for anyone who crossed him.
"True enough," he said, taking her hand. "But more importantly, you're calling me 'my love' now?"
His touch made Phoebe almost forget both her excitement to see her family and her fear of what Roman might do. "Yeah," she said, grinning and tucking herself close to him so that he wrapped his arm around her. "I guess I am."
A low, rumbling sound of approval vibrated through him. "Good. I like that."
The bar's double doors swung open, the sound of voices spilling out onto the stone patio in front. Phoebe glimpsed a huge crowd of alphas inside—too many for a casual weeknight at the local gathering spot. They packed in every seat at the bar and table and ringed the room, massive alphas with powerful builds standing shoulder to shoulder, all focused on something in the front of the room.
She and Roman had stumbled on some sort of meeting—and judging by the tension in the room, the discussion wasn't going well, the air thick with muttering and cursing. She followed the alpha's gazes to see men standing on top of their bar, gesturing and shouting above the others.
Oh, shit—it was none other than her father and Holden.
The joy that had buoyed Phoebe only seconds earlier drained away in an instant. This was bad—worse than she could have imagined.
"I'm telling you, we delivered him ten thousand gallons of gas," her dad hollered down at the sea of alphas. "That bastard took it all, and he ain't about to share any of it with you."
A rumble of anger filled the room, so intense Phoebe could feel the floor vibrating beneath her feet.
"We need to get out of here," she mumbled, digging her fingers into Roman's arm.
But her alpha didn't budge, only shook his head without looking at her. His muscles were rigid, his furious gaze focused like a laser on her father. At that moment, Phoebe was afraid tha
t her alpha was planning to rip his head clean off.
But that wasn't even what Phoebe feared most. She could barely handle one alpha, and at the moment, the rest of them seemed united in agreement with the vitriol and lies her father was spewing.
Phoebe's heart sank. When she'd been tallying their good and bad qualities earlier, she'd forgotten one very important talent—Ed and Holden Whitfield were second to none at riling up a crowd. Their gift for telling people exactly what they wanted to hear was probably the only reason their two-bit operation was still around, and definitely the only reason the two of them had survived so long in the Boundarylands.
The only thing Phoebe couldn't figure out was why these alphas couldn't see right through their bullshit. If her time with Roman had taught her anything, it was that alphas could sense a lie a mile away.
And then it clicked. The reason the crowd was still listening to her father's nonsense was that he wasn't lying…at least not knowingly.
Everything she'd heard him say so far was either the truth or what he believed to be the truth. He had dropped off all that gas at Roman's place, but neither he or Holden had known what the alpha's plans were for it. Even she had thought at first that he intended to hoard it for himself, and she wasn't half as suspicious of others' motives as her family tended to be.
Phoebe tugged on Roman's arm until he finally noticed and glanced away from the spectacle to look at her.
"Roman, listen to me. This isn't—"
She was drowned out by her brother's voice as Holden stepped in front of their father to take up the cause. "The only way any of y'all are getting any fuel for yourselves is to go down to that greedy fucker's land and take it from him," he shouted.
More grumbling rolled through the crowd, but this time the tone shifted slightly, doubt clouding the spirit of unity. If there was one thing that was sacred in the Boundarylands, it was property. Trespassing and theft were considered such serious crimes that they were punishable by immediate death.
On the other hand, survival was the ultimate concern of everyone present. It was in an alpha's nature to never give up, never back down. And if these alphas believed they faced a choice between sin or survival…well, Phoebe didn't want to be anywhere near this bar when they made their decision.
"Roman," Phoebe hissed one last time—but Roman shook off her hand and turned back to the sight of her brother trying to rile up the crowd against him.
"Save your breath, Whitfield," he bellowed, the sound filling every corner the room as every alpha in the place turned to see who had spoken, their faces tense and suspicious. "No one has to go anywhere. I'm already here."
Phoebe pressed close to Roman, and if he hadn't instinctively thrown an arm around her, she likely would have collapsed under the force of all their collective anger.
Shock drained the color from Holden's face, replaced almost immediately by a rush of red hot anger. He crouched at the edge of the bar, ready to leap down as if he planned to start a fistfight with Roman right here and now.
"You son-of-a—"
Ed swung an arm in front of his son, stopping Holden from making a deadly mistake. "Shut it, boy," he ordered.
Meanwhile, a burly alpha with a close-trimmed beard and a hard look in his eyes approached them. "You Roman?"
"I am." Roman didn't blink, but he did release Phoebe and step in front of her, shielding her from the other alpha's steely scowl.
She took the opportunity to slink back toward the door, putting some space between her and the riled-up crowd in case they needed to make a quick exit.
"Is it true, what the betas say?" the bearded alpha demanded. "Did you buy gas from them?"
"I did." Angry growling came from the crowd at Roman's admission. "But I had no plans to keep it all for myself."
The other alpha stared at him intently. He looked to be a little older than Roman—and it seemed that those extra years had earned him the kind of wisdom that only comes from experience. For some reason, Phoebe felt certain that he hadn't already judged Roman the way some of the other alphas apparently had.
"Why should we believe you?"
"My word should be enough, brother," Roman said softly. "But if you need proof, look outside. You'll see I brought one of the tankers with me. There's about five thousand gallons in there, more than enough to get the uplands through winter."
The alpha stared at him a moment longer, then strode past Phoebe and out onto the patio. Aware of everyone staring, Phoebe slipped through the door and pressed herself against the exterior wall, knowing she could never truly hide, that her scent had been noted by every alpha here. All around her was silence—no one moved, no one spoke—and she didn't dare look at her father or brother.
Having spotted the tanker in the parking lot, the alpha turned and went back inside. "He's right," he announced to the crowd in a voice devoid of inflection.
Phoebe didn't even try to follow the stranger back in, letting the door swing shut. It was better out here in the open air, where she wasn't crowded in on all sides by alphas twice her size. And it wasn't as if Roman had been listening to her anyway.
He had other things to focus on other right now, like preventing an angry alpha mob from storming his home with torches and pitchforks. If a fight broke out, she'd be of no help, her presence just something else for Roman to worry about.
She had to trust that the other alphas would see reason, that the presence of the gas her family had accused Roman of hoarding would convince them that his motives were selfless. As for her father and brother—it would take them longer to cool down, but even they were smart enough to back down when they realized the tide was turning against them.
Phoebe's best course was to simply stay out of harm's way and wait for things to be resolved.
At least that's what she believed until, only seconds later, a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind, one hand clamping hard over her mouth and the other hoisting her up off the ground.
Chapter Seventeen
"You want us to believe that you drove all the way up here just to give us that gas?"
The speaker was a smirking alpha with short-cropped hair and flinty eyes—newly arrived, if Roman had to guess, with something to prove. It was like that with a lot of young alphas who were still getting used to their new nature, especially those who had been scorned by the beta world.
Eventually, they tended to settle down and learned to let their actions speak for them rather than going around picking fights. But Roman couldn't wait for this one to mature—not today.
"I don't give a shit what you believe, pup," he snarled. "But that's what I'm doing."
The young alpha bristled at the insult, his face reddening at being called out in front of his brothers. His lip curled, and he gave a warning growl. The alpha who'd first challenged Roman—the one called Gray—raised his hand, and the room went quiet.
Apparently, Gray was a leader up here, someone everyone listened to. Roman had a feeling it wasn't just his age or the few strands of silver at his temple that gave him that status, but a commanding energy that spoke of experience and hard lessons learned.
"Careful, stranger." The alpha spoke softly, but there was iron in his voice. "Ryder might be young, but he ain't stupid. He's saying what we're all thinking."
Roman didn't need to have it explained to him. Just because he led a solitary existence, that didn't mean he couldn't track the undercurrents of the conversation. In fact, he'd long suspected that he was a little too skilled at reading between the lines. That was what had made him prefer his solitary life in the vast open midlands instead of the denser border communities around the northern and southern boundary lines. Avoiding this sort of social interaction meant avoiding all the bullshit that came along with it.
"Listen, brother," he sighed. "I understand that you uplanders are skeptical of outsiders. I would be too. But this isn't some bait and switch."
"You ain't just talking to uplanders here today," another alpha said, stepping forwa
rd out of the crowd. This one was older, tall and lean, with a head full of gray hair curling around his neck and corded muscles in his forearms that would put some of the younger alphas to shame.
And he wasn't alone. There looked to be a small pack with him, three more alphas standing at a respectful distance behind him. "We arrived from the lowlands three days ago. Name's Randall."
"Roman." He dipped his head in a show of respect, camouflaging his surprise. He'd never heard of a gathering of alphas from the two large settlements. Why would there be a need for one? Other than the few alphas who traveled back and forth between the areas for trade, they rarely left their homes—especially not for three whole days. "Why are you here?"
"We came to see why the gas deliveries had dried up." If Randall took offense to the question, he didn't show it. "We thought there might be a territorial dispute brewing, but it turned out to be a misunderstanding."
Roman narrowed his eyes at yet another surprise. As far back as he could remember, there had never been strife among the territories of the Pacific Northwest Boundarylands. "Live and let live" had served them well as a governing principle. Whatever had caused the lowlanders' concern, he'd bet there was a hell of a story behind it.
"But as it turns out, we're just as much in the dark up here as our lowland brothers," Gray said coldly. "In fact, the only one who seems to know anything about this fuel situation is you."
"I hate to break it to you, but I don't know shit about why the oil companies stopped the shipments," Roman said. "There hasn't been any talk about it in the midlands. All I know is that if you offer a beta a shit ton of money, they'll bring you anything you want."
"And you just happened to have that kind of cash lying around," Randall scoffed.
"Yeah, I do." Way more of it than anyone in this room could possibly imagine. "This is just the first time it could do any good."
A murmur passed through the room, but no one challenged him. Alphas, as they all knew, didn't lie—especially about something as trivial as money.
Roman: The Boundarylands Omegaverse: M/F Alpha Omega Romance Page 13
