Heart Stopping

by L. P. Maxa

  Baze had lived a quiet, controlled life. He laughed with his friends, he tried to coach the team the best way he knew how. He’d never set out to rule over anyone. He’d never wanted to be put in a position where he had to keep his friends safe and alive.

  During the past year with Franklin and all the bullshit he’d brought to their door, it’d been hard. Baze had been unattached, so to speak, so he’d stepped up and done what he thought needed to be done. Now Penelope was here; his long-lost mate was sharing his bed. His need to protect and possess was so strong he felt like his body was one giant knot of tension.

  He’d added another thing to the fucked-up list on his plate right now. He didn’t know where he stood with Pen. Why the hell should he know where he stood with his pack? Pretty par for the fucking course.

  “I can’t announce that I’m alpha over breakfast, that’s insane. And it sounds so fucking arrogant.”

  “You don’t have to tell them you’re alpha. You need to take your place and let your actions do the talking.” She scooted down in the bed, getting comfortable on her pillows, and one of the ones she stole from him. “When they protest or throw their little bitch fits, put them in their place. Jace doesn’t seem to have a problem doing it, and neither should you.”

  Jace really didn’t have any trouble giving orders to men twice his age. He commanded a room and made no apologies for it. Maybe Jace should be alpha?

  “Am I your alpha?” He lay down on his side, a smirk on his face. “I think I like the sound of that, bumblebee.”

  She let out a sarcastic little laugh. “I’m not part of your pack, Baze Carter.”

  He narrowed his eyes, reaching out and running his fingertips lightly down her arm. Wishing more than anything he could take away her bruises. “I’m your mate.”

  “More so in theory than reality.” She didn’t pull her arm away from his attention, which he took as a small win. “You can call me your mate all you want, but we never finished the claiming. And we both know you haven’t spent the last decade celibate, so let’s not make things sound more romantic than they actually are, okay?”

  “Have you?” He wanted to know, and he didn’t want to know.

  She stared at him for a few moments before answering. “I don’t have much time to date.” He could tell by her tone that she wasn’t going to elaborate. And he didn’t want to push. He didn’t want to talk about other people…he wanted to talk about them.

  “Your body will start to crave the bond. I’ve seen it happen twice over the last year. Molly had pain, unbearable pain. And Madden became irresistible to other shifters. Linc had to claim her to keep everyone else from trying to.”

  “I had pain.” She looked past him as she continued to talk, like she was remembering. “When it started, the school called my dad and he had them sedate me. So I lied, I told them it had stopped. But it went on for months and months.”

  “I had it too.” His heart ached for what she’d went through, for what she’d had to endure because of him. Because he wasn’t strong enough, because he hadn’t fought hard enough. “I’m so sorry, bumblebee.” He reached out, pulling her into his arms. He didn’t care about anything other than comforting her in that moment. He wanted more than anything to take all her pain away.

  She let him hold her for a few minutes. The house was quiet and the only sound in the room was her heartbeat in his ears. They might not be fully bonded, but some of their connection was still intact, and that made him so fucking happy.

  “What if the pain comes back, Pen? What if you have those episodes like Maddi and the young guys start trying to attack you?” He’d kill them, he knew he would. He’d been able to hold Linc back, but it hadn’t been easy. “I can’t watch you hurt, I can’t, it would tear me apart. And those kids? I’ll rip them to shreds if they touch you. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine. Please don’t make me—”

  “Hey, hey, calm down, okay?” She shifted in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on his chest, over his heart. He took deep breaths, tamping down the odd panic that had been clawing its way up his throat. She soothed him, she made everything seem bearable, seem better.

  He couldn’t believe he’d survived the last decade without her.

  Eventually she pulled away, meeting his eyes. “Make my heart want you, Baze, and I’ll happily give you my body.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Penelope

  She woke up alone in the barren room, Baze’s side of the bed tidy and empty. It was only Sunday, which meant the whole pack would be confined to the house today. Penelope was a friendly person by nature, a trait her parents certainly had no hand in. Her father was cold and her mother was lukewarm at best. Pen tended to make friends easily, but she felt entirely out of her element here. Everything about her life had changed so suddenly, and so completely.

  She’d been kidnapped. Damn. She’d been kidnapped, beaten, and dumped on Baze’s front lawn only yesterday. Baze. Her first love; her first heartbreak. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she was happily traveling to Mexico to help build a well. She needed to contact her friends, she needed to let them know she was okay. Were they looking for her? Had her family been contacted? She wasn’t a flighty person; she was always where she said she’d be and she always kept her word. Someone had to notice that she was gone.

  She grabbed her cell from the nightstand. Baze had plugged it into his charger last night when she’d found it in her jeans pocket. Obviously the man who took her kept it away while she was being held captive. It seemed so odd to her that he would make sure to return it in one piece.

  When she turned it on, she was surprised to find that she didn’t have any missed calls or texts. She quickly dialed her contact in Mexico, anxious to let her know she was alive.

  “Hola, chica, how’s Chile?”

  “Chile?” She pulled her phone away from her ear, making sure she called the right person.

  “Yes, silly, Chile.” Her friend Francesca laughed lightly on the other end of the line. “I must admit, when I got your email I was bummed. I love working with you, but who can argue with earthquake relief?”

  That email had to be Franklin’s doing; that was the only thing that made sense. That had to be the only reason her father wasn’t blowing up her phone. “Yeah, it’s uh, pretty bad here.” She looked across her room into the en suite, sighing. “Maybe when I’m done I can still come meet you guys in Mexico?”

  “You better, we all miss you.” Her friend laughed again, the sound making Penelope feel guilty for lying.

  “I wanted to check on everyone. Talk again soon?”

  “Si, adios, chica.”

  She smiled, despite how heavy she suddenly felt. “Bye.” Lying wasn’t her strong suit, but telling Francesca everything that had happened to her in the last week would only put her in danger. The less she knew, the better.

  “Knock, knock.”

  Penelope looked up to find Jace standing in her doorway. Baze’s beta, although the kid probably didn’t even realize it yet. “’Morning.”

  He glanced toward the window. “It’s noon.”

  Her eyes jumped to her phone screen. How had she missed the time when she’d powered it up? She never slept this late. “Sorry.” She shrugged.

  “Getting beaten takes its toll.” He walked farther into the room. “You needed the rest, and currently you have nothing but free time on your hands.” He sat in the chair Baze had been in when she’d woken yesterday. She wondered what Baze would say to Jace being in her room like this. Since he was beta, he could get away with so much more. Baze would never see him as a threat, as competition. Contrary to what TV shows and movies portrayed, a beta couldn’t become an alpha by overthrowing one. That wasn’t how it worked.

  Jace was a little odd, a little off, in a way that reminded her of the man who had taken her. Which made sense, she supposed, since Franklin did raise the poor guy. “You have questions I assume?”

  He nodded. “I need to know everything you remember
about being with Franklin. No detail is too small. The more I know, the better.”

  Calculating. That was the word she would use to describe Jace Franklin. He chose his words, his reactions carefully. No part of his demeanor was an accident. Unlike his twin, who flew through life by the seat of his designer pants.

  “Do you mind if I get dressed first?”

  An almost nonexistent smile played on his lips, like he wanted to make a funny remark, but his personality simply wouldn’t let him. “Sure. Meet me downstairs? My office is the third door on the right.”

  ***

  Penelope still hadn’t seen Baze, and she’d been up for almost an hour. She wanted to ask where he was, but at the same time, she didn’t want to seem needy. She could certainly stand on her own two feet; she’d been doing it for almost a decade now.

  Luckily, he’d gotten her some clothes like he’d promised. She’d opened the closet in her room to find some yoga pants and a few tank tops and sweatshirts. He’d also left a note, which had melted her a little. She hadn’t seen his chicken scratch handwriting since they were teenagers passing notes in English class.

  Pen,

  I saw the bruises on your legs and figured soft clothes would be better for the next few days. Be back soon.

  Baze

  It was a thoughtful gesture, one she appreciated. Anyone who lounged around the house in jeans was certifiable in her book anyway. She walked down the steel stairs and through the empty living room. She was surprised that she didn’t see anyone on her way to the office. Was she the only other person here? She thought they weren’t supposed to leave. Then again, this place was huge; maybe they were hanging out in another wing or something.

  “Please, have a seat.” Jace gestured to the modern leather armchairs in front of his large glass desk. There were computer monitors everywhere. His office looked more like he was in the CIA than the twelfth grade.

  She sat and pulled her legs under her, getting comfortable for what she assumed was going to be a long-ass talk about the second worst time in her life. Yay.

  “How did he take you?”

  So they were getting right to it then. Okay, she could certainly roll with that. “I was in an airport in New York, about to catch my connecting flight to Mexico. My plane was boarding and when I got up to get in line, someone grabbed me.” She swallowed past a lump in her throat, the memory affecting her more than she thought it would. “I think he drugged me.”

  “Why do you say he?” Jace interrupted her, his hands hovering over a keyboard like he was ready to take notes. “Did you see a man?”

  She closed her eyes, going through every detail in her mind, trying to decide why she assumed a man had grabbed her. “I don’t know. Maybe it was in his build? His bulk. I don’t remember any cologne, and I certainly didn’t see a face…his hands. His hand wrapped all the way around my arm.” She grabbed her right arm, placing it where she still had a faint bruise.

  “And how do you know you were drugged?”

  Damn, this was an interrogation if she’d ever seen one. Which she actually hadn’t. “I remember being taken, and then I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in my room.”

  “They could have hit you.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “When I woke up, I felt fine, no headache, no nausea. No signs of a concussion.” She knew she’d been drugged, like she knew a man had been the one to kidnap her. These were truths in her mind, and she wouldn’t waver, no matter how many questions Jace asked.

  “Why were you going to Mexico?”

  “To build a well.” She kept her breathing steady, her heart rate calm. She felt like Jace was almost suspicious of her. But maybe that was his nature, the nature of his upbringing and the current situation he was in. Either way, she didn’t count it as a strike against him.

  “How long were you held before you saw Franklin?”

  “I don’t know. There was a window in my room, but it had thick metal shutters. I couldn’t tell night from day. I was starving and thirsty by the time he brought food, if that helps at all.” She’d eaten the dry sandwich and drank the bottle of water too fast; she’d gotten sick and thrown most of it up. She’d wanted to ask for more but she knew it was no use. “I only saw Franklin’s face, never anyone else’s. And he never answered my questions.”

  “Sounds about right.” Jace rested back in his chair, appearing so much older than he should. He made basketball shorts and a sweatshirt look like a three-piece suit. “How did he beat you?”

  His words made her throat run dry, but she kept it hidden. Instead she raised her chin, speaking like they were talking about anything else. “He backhanded me, several times. When I’d fall, he’d kick me. But to be honest, the only bad beating I got was right before he loaded me up to drop me at St. Leasing.”

  “Loaded you up in what?”

  “An SUV, I think.” She closed her eyes once again, searching her memory for more to give him. “I was in and out of consciousness at that point, but I remember a black SUV. It had leather seats, they felt good against my skin. Warm, like they were heated.”

  “How long were you in the car?” He was leaning forward now, his tone more insistent.

  “Not that long. I didn’t completely lose consciousness until that Spanish guy carried me inside.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” And she was. Females didn’t shift; they didn’t carry the gene. But her whole life she’d been able to go into a bit of a healing sleep. Bruises weren’t gone when she woke, but she tended to feel noticeably better. “I called my friend earlier.”

  “Don’t use that cell. The house and the surrounding land has scramblers, but I’m sure the only reason Franklin returned it to you was because he bugged it.”

  She pulled it out of her pocket and slid it across Jace’s glass desktop. She didn’t want to be the cause of anyone else being hurt. And she apparently didn’t need to contact anyone to let them know she was okay; Franklin had already taken care of that for her. “My friend said she’d gotten an email explaining that at the last minute I decided to go to Chile to help with the earthquake relief instead of going to Mexico.”

  “Franklin is meticulous.”

  Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the modern décor and all the sharp angles. “So are you.”

  “Do you remember anything about the house?” He ignored her comparison and started to dismantle her cell like it was something he’d done a hundred times before.

  “My room was nice. Soft purples and creams. The bedding was expensive, the rugs were vintage and handmade. All the fixtures in the bathroom were gold and the tile work was custom. It looked like there had been drapes and valences on the windows, but they were removed. There was no artwork on the walls, but there were nail holes where some had been taken down, maybe.” The bed was comfortable, but she rarely slept. She was always on guard, waiting for him to come back.

  “Did he touch you sexually?”

  “No.” That had been a big fear of hers too. Once she realized that Franklin wasn’t after her body, not in that way, she still wondered if someone else in the house would come for her. She knew he had to have men who worked for him; he screamed money and power. And from the way she grew up, she knew money and power never worked alone.

  “I’m sorry that you were dragged into this mess. And I’m sorry that you were hurt.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Penelope liked Jace, even though she thought him a little odd. She also felt sorry for him. What high school senior has to shoulder the burden of his father? Has to be beta to a pack wrought with enemies and turmoil? But then again, maybe Jace wasn’t the type of kid who longed for keg parties and girls in skimpy bikinis. Hell, maybe he was right where he wanted to be.

  Maybe they both were for that matter. She could say she wanted to leave, she could say she wanted to go build a well until she was blue in the face. But Penelope had been walking through life for the last decade feeling as if she’d lost something.

>   Here, in her new prison, she had Baze and she finally felt whole again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Baze

  Baze had watched Pen sleep for a good hour before he’d finally made himself get out of bed. He wanted too badly to wake her, to see her honey-colored eyes. He wanted to touch her skin and kiss her lips. He wanted to climb between her thighs and claim her as his.

  So he’d left the house and made himself busy. He went to the store and bought her some clothes. He walked the perimeter of the compound, trying to familiarize himself with the layout. And then he’d borrowed one of Jace’s thirty laptops to do a bit of research.

  The things that Penelope had mentioned last night were still on his mind. The pack mentality, the fact that she thought he was alpha. In all honesty, he and his friends should have done pack research the second the professor at St. Leasing clued them in to the fact that they had formed one.

  Nothing he read was conclusive. There wasn’t a Buzzfeeds quiz titled Are You the Pack Alpha. But the signs and clues Pen had mentioned were well documented. She knew her stuff thanks to that pricey boarding school her father had shipped her to. Maybe once all the chaos was over, she could teach a course at St. Leasing. She certainly knew more than Professor Plimpton.

  “Do you talk about Baze with anyone in your life?”

  He paused outside Jace’s office when he heard his name. He knew that Jace wanted to talk to Pen and ask her what she remembered from the past week. But he didn’t know they’d be talking about him. And he didn’t know he’d wait to do it when Baze was out of the house. He wasn’t mad at Jace’s tactics, but he wasn’t all too happy either.

  “No. No one in my life now even knows he exists.” She paused and he leaned in. He was eavesdropping like a child, but hell if he could stop himself. “I take it he doesn’t talk about me either.”