Alpha MC: The McKinnon Brothers

by Alana Hart

  Feeling accomplished and anxious about the day ahead, Connor walked out back, through the hedges, and behind the stable. He followed a path into the woods, walking until he was hidden from the house. Then he stripped out of his clothes and shifted into a wolf.

  All of the tension drained from his body as he settled into his fur and his paws stretched in the cold dirt. He needed a run, one free of his human failings. He took off, his claws digging into the dirt, the wind whipping through his fur.

  For one long, blissful run, he let go, emptied his mind of thoughts of Casey, of Frankie, of his job, of his loyalty, and he just ran.

  He found the pond and sipped from it. Killed and ate a rabbit, the hunt energizing him as nothing else could, and then he ran back, trotting the last mile. He was panting, buzzing with energy and life. Sinking into his wolf skin had reminded him of his true self, of his family and his loyalty to them. He knew what he had to do.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Frankie Sway sat on the front porch, hot coffee in one hand, his phone in the other. He scanned the news and his emails. There were some prospective-looking dogs that he would go have a look at after the fight.

  He sipped his coffee, watching the sun peak over the mountains. From the garage, Connor walked around the house barefoot. Frankie liked him. The guy was a dinosaur when it came to technology, so Frankie was sure it had been Jenny who hacked his computer, but why? Who was she and what did she have on him that would make her climb into his bed every night for months?

  He’d sent out feelers, asking his own little hacker community for information on Jenny Cartwright, but so far, nothing had come in.

  There was something off about that woman, always had been, but he had thought it was just how quiet she was, so perfect as the lounging lover. It was a sham, he knew now. After dinner last night he’d figured out quite easily that Connor was a harmless grease monkey, and Miss Jenny was hiding something. Her pathetic blowjob assured him he was right about her. Now he just needed to know what she was here for before he killed her.

  She was going to die, no matter what info was found. He had decided that last night even before he’d shown her the real Frankie Sway. The past months, letting her take the lead, had been nice, but he preferred his partners afraid, and now she was.

  Once she was gone, he was thinking of taking Connor to Spain. He could use a vacation, and after this week’s fight, he’d have enough money to make it a lavish trip. Connor would come with him, he knew. Frankie was hard to resist. He smiled, imaging Connor tied to a bed, crying from pain, but hard and ready for him nonetheless. There was something so empowering about taking a man like Connor.

  First he had to deal with Miss Cartwright. She knew too much about him, and he knew too little about her.

  His phone vibrated in his hand. An email. He didn’t recognize the address, AMack@silentline.com. He opened it. At first he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, and then as he scanned the first few lines, he smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Casey woke feeling as though her head had been cleaved in two. The light coming through the window was like daggers in her eyes. Gingerly, she touched her temple and winced. She definitely had a bruise, probably a concussion, too.

  The rest of her felt worse. She had expected a beating, fists and pain. What she hadn’t expected was fear. Frankie kept the belt around her neck, tightening it a little more with every thrust, cutting off her air bit by bit, until she was taking tiny, silent gasps. And then he would release his hold, loosen the belt, let her catch her breath while he changed his condom.

  And then he would start all over again. She’d fought at first, and then Frankie tied her hands to the bedposts, her legs were free, but he remained between them, tightening the belt hard if she tried to kick him off.

  Yet, she was alive.

  But for how long?

  Frankie didn’t believe her, which meant he thought she was the one guilty of hacking his computer. Though not untrue, it wasn’t her hack that had alerted him. Even so, why hadn’t he killed her yet?

  Whatever the reason, Casey didn’t plan to be around to find out. She slid her legs out of bed and eased into a sitting position. Her head throbbed with the effort, the room spinning for a moment. Her neck felt stiff and bruised.

  Before she could get her bearings, the bedroom door opened and in walked Victor. He was naked from the waist up, his enormous hairy chest like a wall coming at her.

  He leered at her. “Frankie sent me to find why you’re really here… Miss Keene.”

  Shit. Pain be damned, Casey jumped off the bed and tried to run for the door. Victor caught her by the hair, yanking her back. She stumbled and fell to the floor, dizzy and blinded with new pain.

  She opened her mouth to scream, not that anyone would help, and Victor stooped, fast for such a large man, covered her mouth with a meaty hand, and hauled her up against his hairy chest.

  Casey kicked and swung her fists, but for all the good it did her, she could have been a rabbit in a hawk’s claws.

  Victor carried her down the stairs and outside, kicking and trying to scream the whole way. Only when she realized where he was taking her did her anger and fear turn into blind panic.

  He kicked open the kennel door, and they were greeted by the barks and snarls of startled dogs. She searched for a way to escape as he carried her inside. It was an old horse stable; Frankie had replaced the stalls with chain link cages all along one wall. Belts and whips hung on the other wall. Several small windows were too high and narrow for her to use as a means of escape.

  The only doors were the one they came in, and one at the other end of the kennel. She had to get to one of them; she’d be damned if she was going to end up dog chow. Casey kicked, managing to catch him in the groin, and was rewarded with a grunt. He held on, though, and when he reached a table midway along the wall opposite the dogs, he slammed her down on it, knocking the wind from her lungs.

  She stared up at him, catching her breath. He was sweaty, his little eyes narrowed down at her.

  “Once I find out why you’re here,” he said, his meaty hands sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress. “I’m to get rid of you.” He took her dress in both hands and ripped, baring her naked body. He smiled, looming over her. “Think I’ll just tell him you wouldn’t give up your secrets, no matter how hard I tried.”

  She found her strength again as he yanked her legs apart, lodging himself there as he held her down with one hand and undid his pants with the other. Screaming was useless. The dogs were loud enough to drown out any noise that she managed to make with her battered throat.

  So this was how she was going to die? Raped and murdered by the Homicidal Hulk in front of the animals she had vowed to save? Could Frankie really not even be bothered to do this himself?

  No one would know what happened to her. She had no doubt that they would feed her to the dogs afterwards. Mariam would care, but she was older, and there wasn’t much she could do in terms of vengeance. And her father might one day wonder why his daughter had stopped visiting him, but as her visits were so infrequent already, it could take a long time, and by then she would be compost.

  The only thought that gave her any solace, as Victor finally managed to free himself from his pants, was that Connor might feel bad for letting her take the blame. Of course, he might not care at all, but thinking about that rat bastard gave her enough energy to make it hard for Victor.

  His one hand held her down, pressing her chest so hard she couldn’t breathe while his other tried to guide his cock into her, but she kept bucking and turning, making the small target impossible to find.

  He lifted his hand from his dick, his fist raised over her. She would black out, she knew it, and then he would rape her unconscious body before killing her.

  And then she heard snarling, deeper than that of the dogs, closer and more vicious.

  Victor jumped back, the look on his face one of fear, and then a grin spread slowly over his broad fa
ce.

  “Aren’t you a pretty thing,” he said, distracted.

  Seizing the moment, Casey rolled off the table and ran. She didn’t get far. Victor snatched her up and threw her into a cage, thankfully an empty one, and locked her in.

  That was when Casey saw the enormous wolf dog standing in the main part of the kennel, snarling and snapping at Victor.

  The big man took a studded belt from the wall and advanced on the dog. It turned and bolted outside. Momentarily forgetting Casey, Victor pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed a button.

  “Get the boys,” he panted. “There’s a dog on the property you’re gonna want.” He hung up and set his hungry eyes on Casey. “We’ll finish later.”

  She watched him leave, locking the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Casey jumped up and tried to open the cage door, but the lock was complicated and she couldn’t see it properly. She wasted ten whole minutes before giving up, her fingers pinched and scratched. Naked and cold, Casey sat on the floor, wrapping her arms around her shins.

  She glanced at the dogs on either side of her. One lay down against the chain link and ignored her, the other paced, his dark eyes watching her, ready to attack. The other dogs had gone quiet.

  A few minutes, that’s all she needed to collect herself, and then she would figure out how to get out of here. Her teeth chattered. The torn remains of her dress lay on the floor by the table. She supposed she could sit closer to the sleeping dog to get warm, but that might wake him and start them all barking again.

  She needed to think. If she was still here when Victor came back, there was no reason to think he would give up on his mission to rape and kill her. Getting out was the only option. But, looking around at the chain link cage bolted to the floor and ceiling on all four sides, Casey realized how impossible that would be.

  Mariam had wanted to go in as a cook. Casey had told her that she could handle the job, that she’d done it plenty of times, that she’d be out in a month. Well, it had been two months and she had failed, miserably.

  Casey put her forehead on her knees, taking deep breaths, the smell of hay and dog filling her nose. Just think.

  A door to the kennel opened, and Casey froze. Was Victor back already? The dogs started barking again, but there was another short bark and the dogs quieted.

  And then she watched as the wolf dog trotted back into the kennel, its blackish-gray fur thick, and its eyes light. It stopped in front of her cage, glanced at the lock, and then back at her. It was a beautiful dog, more wolf and than wolf dog, though.

  “Can’t help you,” she told it, her voice hoarse. She winced as her throat pinched. “I’m stuck in here.”

  The dog sat, its eyes on her. And then to her horror and amazement, the dog’s fur receded into its skin, its body stretched and lengthened, and then Connor sat before her, naked, tattoos covering much of him, beautiful and terrifying.

  She had no words.

  Connor stood quickly, took the lock in his hand and ripped it free of the chain link cage. “You have to go now, Casey.” He held out his hand to her. She stared into his light eyes. She hadn’t believed him until now, not really. Before, his fangs could have been a trick of her imagination. But now, it was real. He was real.

  “Casey,” he urged.

  She took his hand and let him haul her to her feet. He pulled her along behind him, out the door and around the back. He leaned her against the wall.

  “Wait here,” he said, and then ran into the woods.

  Casey closed her eyes, shaking. She was still naked, but the sun warmed her numb skin.

  She felt him before she heard come back. He had dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. Briefly his thumb passed over her bruised throat, his brow furrowed. And then he took her hand again, putting his finger to his lips before pulling her behind him.

  They crept around the house and into the garage. It smelled like motor oil and pine trees inside. Connor dug through a cabinet and produced a mechanic’s gray coverall, coaxing her into it in silence. He zipped her in, threw a pair of boots at her feet, stepping into his own, and searched for keys on the wall.

  “Fuck,” he whispered and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out his phone. He frowned and pressed a button.

  Casey saw the screen light up with a video. She stood close enough that she saw that it was the dogs’ kennel. The video was black and white, but it clearly showed the wolf dog walking into the kennel and shifting into Connor. She didn’t need to see the rest to know what happened.

  For a moment, Connor stared at his phone in utter horror, and then he grabbed her hand, a pair of keys, and two helmets. He sat on the big motorcycle with a snarling dog on the tank. She shook her head.

  “I’ve never—”

  He grabbed her by the front of the coverall and pulled her close. “Get the fuck on the bike or I’m leaving you here. They’re coming, Casey.” He shoved a helmet at her, his eyes darkening. “I missed that camera,” he said, more to himself than to her.

  When she still hesitated, he took the helmet, shoved it onto her head, and forced her on the back of the bike. He strapped his helmet on, and spoke over his shoulder.

  “Hold on.”

  He gunned the engine, the bike roaring to life, alerting everyone to their location. The wheels screeched as he spun the bike and peeled out of the driveway.

  She had her arms wrapped around his middle, clinging for her life, her face pressed into the back of his shirt. She didn’t need to see how fast they were going, or if they were being followed, she just wanted to get the hell out of there, even if it meant putting her life in the hands of a literal monster.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

  Connor pushed the bike fast on the narrow road, the lake passing in a blur. He was dead. How had he missed that camera? He’d done a thorough search of the house and outlying buildings. That one had to be more securely hidden, newer technology than what was around the rest of the house.

  And now Frankie knew what he was, would find out what his family was, and once they killed Frankie, the alphas were going to kill him.

  He should have stayed, called for back up and hidden in the woods until they arrived. Fuck, he should have kept his damn mouth shut and let Victor do his dirty work for him.

  But he couldn’t. Even if she had to die, he couldn’t let it be like that. Apparently someone had already done a job on her neck. Guilt pricked at him. If he had just killed her as soon as he found out she knew what he was, she wouldn’t have had to suffer like this. He might be a monster, but he was merciful. Or he thought he was.

  Connor kept his ears and senses alert for Frankie and his men. They had run into the woods searching for the wolf dog, but by now Frankie, if not all of them, had seen the video. It had been Aidan who sent Connor the video. Apparently he had tapped into Frankie’s security feeds, and this one linked to Frankie’s phone.

  Connor didn’t know what Frankie would do with that knowledge, but he would find out after he got Casey out of there. He might not have to do anything, though. Aidan would have reported to the alphas, not because he meant to betray his brother, but because they just didn’t keep things from them. They didn’t lie or disrespect their alphas. Not until now, when Connor screwed up big time and decided to save the life of the woman he would have to kill anyway.

  Yeah, the alphas wouldn’t take this lightly.

  He pushed the bike a little faster. He had a small beach house in Gloucester. He hadn’t been there in so long, but they could hide out for at least a night while he figured out what he was going to do.

  They were rounding the corner, the main road close, when he heard the unmistakable pop, pop, pop! of gunfire. Casey gripped him harder, burying her face in his back. Connor had no gun, no weapon of any kind, and he was on a bike with a passenger, so he couldn’t stop and fight.

  He glanced into the trees and saw Frankie, his men running to catch up with him. He aimed his gun at Connor and Casey, but d
idn’t fire. Maybe he was out of ammo. Maybe he didn’t want to kill them. His first shots had missed completely; all they managed to do was get Connor’s attention.

  As Connor sped by in a blur, Frankie, who was at least a hundred yards into the tree line, held up his phone and pointed at Connor.

  And then they were gone, speeding down the last bit of driveway and skidding onto the road. Connor steadied the bike and drove fast, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

  For four hours Connor drove without stopping. He felt his phone vibrate a number of times in his pocket, but he ignored it knowing it was either Frankie, one of his brothers, or an alpha, and he didn’t want to talk to any of them until they were safely hidden.

  Casey kept her tight grip on him the entire time. She would be hurting, Connor thought.

  As they came off the highway and rode through Gloucester, Connor kept his pace with the traffic, and let the sights and smells and sounds seep into him and calm him down. This had been the only place he’d ever lived without the pack. His parents’ marriage was arranged, like most of the marriages in his pack. Casey had been right, the current alphas were originally seven brothers, now three, and they were all shifters, all born. Though now in their eighties, they had vowed as young men that they would keep the bloodline pure. They didn’t believe in mixing with humans, thought it dirtied the blood.

  Connor’s parents, Jackie and Donald McKinnon, had been from different packs. Jackie was Ronan’s only daughter and his youngest of eleven children. A willful child, he promised her to the son of an alpha in Ireland, flew the family over, and had a wedding all within a week of telling her.

  Connor’s mother used to tell him and his brothers about how she spent the first year of marriage trapped in Ireland, missing home. She had tried to run away several times, each caught by Donald’s family and dragged back. Annoyed with how they treated his wife, Donald brought Jackie back to the states, bought a little beach house, and lived there, away from the packs, for five years after Connor was born.