All for Connor: The Lone Wolf Defenders Book 3

by Alicia Montgomery

  He glanced back at the watch, surprised at the time: 9:02 pm. Early still.

  After the reaming from Sebastian, he had to stay and tour the theater with Aiden James, checking for weak spots and other security concerns. It took most of the day and, by the time they were done, the cast had already left, including Evie. Of course, he was thankful he didn’t have to see Janelle until the next day, but he didn’t know where Evie had gone. So, he decided to go back to his hotel to try and get some shut eye.

  He’d only been asleep an hour, yet, it felt longer as his dreams made him travel back in time. His nightmares were filled with his time at The Facility. Training with a dozen other young Lycans who were barely old enough to shift. Coaxing their animals out. Teaching them to fight.

  He had been there for so long he didn’t know anything but the cold, white walls of The Facility. He didn’t even know where he or the other children came from. Were they bred at The Facility? Stolen from their families? Plucked out of thin air? No one knew, not even Archie.

  But he remembered that night he first saw Archie. It was the same night he got the scar from the poisoned blade. As he was lying down, blood pouring over his eye, he caught a glimpse of this strange old man sitting in the prime seats. While others stood up and screamed for his blood, the old man remained seated and looked at Connor with such sad eyes.

  A low rumble tore from his chest. Shit. No. Not now. Archie. The Cage. The Facility. The red-haired giant. All his failures were coming back, and it was making the feral wolf rise up. The taste of blood from the other night sated it, but it wanted more. Was it a mistake to go after Boyd? It was easy enough to find his old handler, thanks to Archie’s list. It only took him five hours to drive two states over, to the run-down trailer where the bastard was living.

  The envelope Archie had left him when he died contained a list of names and pictures of people connected to The Facility and background information on them. Most of the names were negligible—the old doctor, the name of the owner of the building where The Facility was housed (likely fake), the security guards, the cleaning crew. But two names stood out, and one was conspicuously missing. Boyd Russell, his old handler, who he had already taken care of. The next was David Booth, who Connor recognized as one of the men who trained him as a young boy.

  The one name and picture missing from the envelope was the one Connor wanted the most. The red-haired man. Was he even still alive? He hoped so because Connor was going to get his revenge, before it was too late.

  That meant keeping the feral wolf under control, at least when he wasn’t extracting vengeance. Archie had helped him all those years, but, since his death, his control was slipping. The wolf wanted more time with their body, and it was getting harder and harder to take it back.

  And, when, not if, the time came that he couldn’t reign in the wolf, there would be only one solution. He would have to be put down. That was one of the reasons he agreed to stay in New York. He couldn’t ask any of his siblings to put him down. It would have to be someone strong and someone with reason. Grant Anderson, as the biggest and strongest Alpha of them all, would be the one to end his life, and Connor knew he would do it to save his city and his clan.

  Connor wrestled control of their body, rolling over the bed and getting to his feet. He let out a groan as he clenched his fists, willing the wolf to submit to him. You’re in charge, you’re alpha, Archie reminded him. Tell the wolf who’s boss.

  It was getting harder and harder to hold it back. The feral wolf was urging him on, spurring him forward to get dressed. To get out of this goddamn room and roam the streets. But where would he go?

  ***

  Of course this is where his fucked up wolf wanted to go. Connor was standing in the park across from a building. It was one of those older brick buildings, around five or six stories tall with a small foyer in the front. He knew this place. He’d been keeping watch here for weeks.

  The tree overhead casted a shadow that kept him hidden. Fucking broken animal. He kicked the tree trunk. He blew out another breath and slammed his palm on the trunk. The poor, hapless tree getting the brunt of his anger. Anger at what, he wasn’t sure. Was Evie even home? She must be. Rehearsals tomorrow started at seven a.m. sharp. Even when she wasn’t working on a show, Evie was disciplined, only staying out late if she was doing an open mic night and, even then, she went straight home to get her sleep. He overheard her saying she needed at least eight hours of shut eye every night to keep her voice and body in shape.

  A movement at the front door of the building caught his eye. He had been here enough times that he knew most of Evie’s neighbors. The figure slipping his key in the front door was not a neighbor but definitely familiar. Jake? John? Jack. It was a warlock stripper from Merlin’s.

  “What the fuck is he doing here?” Connor said aloud. Motherfucker. And he had a key. Connor had stopped following Evie since the wedding and now … this happened? When? Goddammnit. Were they dating? Obviously. Why else would he have a key to her place?

  With a huff, he pushed against the tree and walked toward the subway on 173rd street. Fuck this shit; he was done. Done with Evie. Screw the feral wolf. Even thinking of them together would bring out the animal.

  “What the fuck?” Instead of walking south, his feet somehow brought him directly in front of Evie’s building. “Goddamn shit.”

  He took the lock-picking tool from his pocket, silently thanking Archie and his lessons long ago. The lock clicked and the door opened. He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the front of Evie’s apartment.

  There were voices inside. A male and female, who was definitely Evie based on the familiar, light-hearted laugh his sensitive ears picked up. The fury building inside him was so thick it nearly choked him, and his pulse was beating erratically as he pounded on the door. He heard scrambling inside and footsteps coming toward the front part of the apartment.

  Cracking his knuckles, he prepared himself. He took a long sniff—tea and mud, not Evie’s sweet scent, so it wasn’t her opening the door. The lock turned and the door opened, and Connor didn’t even wait. He barged in, grabbed the figure by the shoulders, and pushed him up against the wall inside the foyer.

  The towel wrapped around the figure’s head dropped, revealing short, dark hair. Two blue eyes peered up at him from behind a mask of green goop. A mouth opened and let out an unearthly shriek.

  “Aaaaaaiiiyaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!” The scream was deafening. “Do you want money? We’re poor, starving actors! We don’t have any money! You can take the TV!”

  “What. The. Fuck?” Connor leaned down and peered at the figure. It was definitely male. He was wearing a short, terrycloth robe and nothing else underneath. The shit on his face smelled like tea and mud and, other than that, he didn’t smell like anything else. “Where’s Evie?”

  “Connor?” Evie was standing by the doorway that led to the living room, her mouth in a perfect “o” shape and her eyes wide as dinner plates. “What are you doing here? And … Jack! Let go of him; you’re hurting him!” She walked to Connor and tugged at his bicep.

  Connor released Jack, who slumped against the wall. “You brute! How dare you assault me in my own home!”

  “Your home … what the fuck is he talking about?”

  Evie let out a sigh. “Jack is my new roommate. Remember? I told you about him?”

  “You said you had a roommate,” Connor groused. “Not that it was him.”

  “What does it matter who it is?” Evie asked. “And what are you doing here?”

  “I …” Connor looked at Evie and then at Jack. “You don’t … never mind! This was a mistake.” He shook his head.

  “Oh my God,” Jack exclaimed, then let out a laugh. “You thought … me and Evie. Gross! Sorry, big guy, I’m afraid you and I don’t play on the same team.”

  “What?” Connor scratched his beard. “What team are you talking about?”

  “Well, I prefer playing with baseball bats.” Jack winked at him.
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  Connor’s brows drew together. “Do you have something in your eye?”

  Jack let out an exasperated sigh. “No. I mean, I don’t like to drink from the furry cup. I’m a friend of Dorothy.” Connor looked even more confused. “I’m gay,” Jack exclaimed. “Get it?”

  “Oh.” Shit. “Uh, I’m sorry?”

  Jack sighed and closed his robe in a dignified manner. “Well, I suppose I could forgive you since that’s about the most action I’ve seen all week.” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief as he sized up Connor, and then bit his lip with his teeth. “I don’t suppose you’d consider batting for my team?” A low growl made him wince. “Right, well, I’ll leave you kids to it.” Jack tossed his head and made his way back to the other room.

  Evie turned back to Connor and crossed her arms over her chest. “Connor, what are you doing here?”

  “I needed to make sure you were okay,” he said. Technically that was the truth. “After what happened today.”

  “I’m fine,” she said with a shrug. “It was … scary. And I’m kind of glad you’re here.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I didn’t get to thank you for saving my life. Again.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Would you like to come in? I have some … tea or pop. Or snacks?”

  Evie’s soft brown eyes looked up at him, and all he wanted to do was take her in his arms again and bury his nose in her hair until everything—the nightmares, the memories, the list in the envelope, the entire fucked-up world—melted away. But he couldn’t. He had one single goal, one purpose. And when he was done, it would be the end.

  “I can’t.” He turned away.

  “Connor. Connor!”

  But he ignored her calls and picked up his pace, racing down the stairs and out into the warm spring night.

  ***

  Evie stared after Connor’s retreating back, her mouth open. After a few seconds, she shut the door and let out a sigh. What the hell was going on?

  She walked back into the living room, where Jack was sitting on the couch, still in his robe, slippers, and face mask, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “So, what did Mr. McBroodypants want?”

  “He just wanted to make sure I was okay,” she said. “I told you about the accident at the theater.”

  “Wasn’t that hours ago?” he asked, eyebrow raised. “What did he really want?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged.

  Jack let out an exasperated sound. “Really Evie? Him trying to kill me with his bare hands didn’t give you a clue?”

  She stared at him, mouth open.

  “C’mon. He was jealous. Greener than my green tea mud pack.”

  “Nuh-uh.” She shook her head. “No way.”

  “Jesus, Evie.” He sighed and put his hands up. “I know you’re not stupid, but are you blind? That man has is baaaaaaad for you. And you have it bad for him.”

  “I do not,” she denied.

  He laughed. “Ooohhhh, Evie, I hope you have good health insurance.”

  “Why?”

  “‘Cause that man is going to wreck your pus—”

  “Jack!” Evie blushed. No, she shouldn’t be thinking of that. But the thought of having sex with Connor made heat creep up her neck and sent her cheeks aflame. That almost-kiss from the wedding replayed in her mind, and she found herself wondering what would have happened if she had just moved her head forward a few inches … No, she shouldn’t think about that.

  Chapter Six

  Evie mentally prepared herself as she entered the theater through the backstage door. Every time she walked through this door was another day closer to opening night. She couldn’t help but feel that zing of excitement she always got when entering the theater. That feeling, however, quickly dissipated when she walked by the dressing rooms.

  “I just can’t tell you how safe I feel now that you’re here,” Janelle cooed up at Connor. As they entered the petite pop star’s dressing room, Evie couldn’t help but watch them. Janelle looked ridiculous, wearing a tight crop top, skinny jeans, and platform heels that brought her up to Connor’s shoulders. Though her outfit of yoga pants, sports bra and loose top were comfortable and appropriate for rehearsals, Evie suddenly felt underdressed and inadequate.

  Connor’s head turned in her direction, and Evie forced herself to look away. She ignored the hairs rising on the back of her neck as she felt Connor’s gaze on her and walked to the stage where the rest of the cast was already assembled. Steven was already there and starting the rehearsal with blocking for the second scene.

  As she heard the slamming of Janelle’s dressing room door, a tightness gripped her chest. Connor was assigned to keep Janelle safe and, although Evie didn’t want the pop star hurt, she just wished …

  She let out a frustrated sound. What did she want? Connor coming over last night to check on her was nice … in a weird and awkward way.

  “Evie, did you hear what I said?” Steven asked, his voice irritated. “Move to the left!”

  “Right, sorry!”

  The rest of the rehearsal progressed. It didn’t escape her that there was no sign of their star and her bodyguard. She tried not to think about what they could be doing, all alone in Janelle’s dressing room.

  When they finally broke for lunch, Evie jogged over to the corner of the stage where she kept her towel and water bottle.

  “Looks like hard work, all that dancing and singing.”

  Evie turned around as she was taking a drink and wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Oh, Mr. Ja—I mean, Aiden. I didn’t realize you were here.” He was dressed casually today, in a sports jacket, white button-down shirt, and dark pants.

  “Sebastian asked that I handle this personally.”

  “Oh right.” They made the announcement yesterday that, after the incident, they were tightening security around the theater and Atlantis had hired Creed Security.

  “I didn’t know you were an actress,” he commented, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he gave her a genuine smile. “You really are talented.”

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  “Does this mean you’ll be leaving Lone Wolf Security?”

  “Oh no,” she chuckled. “I’m afraid one show won’t be enough to keep the bills paid. Killian understands and lets me work around the rehearsal schedule here.”

  “Oh.”

  “Hmmm?” Did he sound disappointed? “Were you hoping I’d quit?”

  “Oh no, not if you don’t want to,” he quickly explained. “It’s just that …” he trailed off, then leaned forward to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. His fingers came in contact with her cheek, and she froze. “I was hoping to ask you out to dinner some night. But it probably wouldn’t be appropriate, seeing as you’re technically my employee.”

  Evie’s breath caught in her throat. Aiden James was asking her out? They were flirting a bit at the wedding, but she just thought he was being nice. “I … uh …”

  A ringing sound interrupted them, and Aiden fished his phone from his pocket. “Sorry,” he said. “I gotta take this. I’ll talk to you later, Evie.” He gave her a nod and then walked away as he spoke into the phone.

  Saved by the bell. Her shoulders relaxed as relief swept through her. She bit her lip. Would it be terrible, though, if she went out with Aiden? True, they worked for the same company, but she was in a different office—sort of—and he wasn’t her direct boss.

  As she contemplated her choices for lunch and walked toward the stage door exit, she realized she left her purse in the dressing room. She pivoted and turned to the direction of the backstage area. Most of the cast and crew had left for lunch, so it was quiet. As she opened the door to the dressing room, she felt a large, looming presence behind her.

  She turned her head. “What—Connor?” She staggered inside as he stepped forward. Her heart slammed into her chest when she met his glowing eyes in the darkened room. The air felt thick, and her knees buckled.
r />   Large, warm hands gripped her arm, and she was spun around, her back bumping against the wooden door.

  “What did he want?” he growled.

  “What? Who?”

  “Aiden James,” he said through clenched teeth. “What did he want?”

  “What are you—Connor, what’s gotten into you?”

  “He was touching you, I saw it.” His curt voice lashed at her.

  She felt her temper rise in response. “So? What do you care?” Her words were met with furious silence, and her nostrils flared. “He was asking me out. On a date. And I—”

  His lips covered hers hungrily, the warmth of them surprising her. His hands slid to her neck and buried themselves in her hair, before angling her head upward so he could kiss her even deeper. She opened up, letting his tongue slip into her mouth, shocking herself with her eager response to his kiss.

  She moaned against his lips and moved her hands to his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath the tight black shirt. His muscles tensed in response to her touch but relaxed as she inched higher to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

  He pressed up against her, his lips never leaving hers. One hand moved down, brushing against the curves of her breast to the dip in her waist and lower still to the curve of her ass. His palm cupped one buttock and then moved to the back of her thigh to hook her leg around his waist. She gasped as his erection was suddenly cradled between her thighs and, for a moment, she thought of Jack’s words last night and wondered how good her health insurance was.

  It was was too much, and she pressed her hips up to rock against him, trying to find the right angle.

  Connor dragged his lips away, leaving her mouth burning with fire. He trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck, his tongue licking the sensitive skin.

  “Connor …” She arched her back, pushing up against him. He ground his hips into her, The sensation made her shudder, and desire pooled between her legs. His other hand crept up her waist, under her shirt, and lifted the band of her sports bra to cup her breast.