The Loneliest Alpha (The MacKellen Alphas)

by T. A. Grey

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  She stilled as she tried to recognize that voice. Something about it sounded familiar but he spoke softly, disguising his voice. Why weren’t the guards rushing in to help her? She was supposed to have extra security.

  He started sidling down the hallway, walking them sideways toward the backdoor. Fortunately her weight seemed to slow him down. Breathing hard through her nose, nostrils flaring, her eyes watered from his crushing grip. She tried to push away, do something, but her feet only squeaked across the kitchen linoleum. Then her eyes spotted the butcher’s knife sitting in the sink.

  The sound of her heartbeat thrashed in her ears like a percussion symphony. Sweat made her hands clammy and dripped down her flanks.

  She struck. It wasn’t a coordinated attack because she knew nothing of fighting. She attacked on plain instinct. She jumped in his arms, jerking against his hold. She kicked out at the kitchen table and found enough leverage to push back against her attacker.

  It worked. He went stumbling back, his bruising grip around her ribs loosening. She reached behind her, finding his mask and dug her nails in until his gargled scream nearly shattered her eardrums.

  He dropped her. Feet sliding on the floor in panic, she raced across the kitchen and grabbed the knife. She spun around but he was only just now stalking toward her. Why couldn’t she stop shaking?

  She held the knife two-handed pointed out in front of her. With her arms trembling, the blade wobbled unsteadily.

  “Don’t come any closer,” she said, fear making her voice high and erratic.

  He kept coming closer and she kept her back pressed against the counter, moving sideways toward the backdoor. Still, he kept coming, moving with slow, purposeful steps.

  “I mean it. Stay back!”

  “Put the knife down. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Stay back! I will kill you!”

  He stopped coming after her, cocked his head to watch her from beneath that mask. “Just put it down,” he whispered.

  “N-no.” Moving the blade to one hand, she reached out for the door handle. Her fingers brushed against chipped paint and splintered wood of the aged door and then finally across the cold metal of the deadbolt. Swallowing over the lump in her throat, she found the door handle and turned it.

  It all happened so quickly, though her mind slowed everything down to excruciating detail. Whether she wanted to or not, she absorbed every moment of what was happening. Down to the sound of the doorknob jiggling, all the way to noticing the golden brown of his eyes.

  So when he launched himself at her, she reacted in panic as a scared animal does toward an attacker. He lurched forward and kicked one long leg out. She hadn’t been expecting that. Caught by surprise, she reached much too slow. She slashed with the blade, nicked his leg, but it didn’t matter. Their blows were not equal in measure. His kick punched her gut, slamming her up against the door and knocking the wind and knife out of her hand.

  She crumpled to the ground, wheezing. Each breath felt like she was breathing through a straw. Pain bloomed across her stomach, even to her rib cage. Muscles bunched and pulled with the simple act of breathing.

  Sitting on her knees, she saw his feet come up before her. She’d cut a tear in his pants. Against pale skin, she saw a trickle of blood pooling. Her cut hadn’t done nearly as much damage as his kick.

  He knelt down in front of her and reached to pick her up again. Suddenly, a surge of power came over her and the pain in her stomach abated. She grabbed for the knife, but he quickly snatched her wrist and squeezed until pain exploded where he touched. The blade dropped to the floor. He took it.

  And then she did something that surprised them both. She ripped off his mask.

  She sputtered to say something as recognition kicked in.

  “Will?”

  His mouth slammed closed and then a fist connected to her face. The blow hit her like a brick to the face. She’d never been hit in the face. The pain was something else. The brunt of his hard knuckles hit near the eye and an explosion of agony erupted at the spot. Her eye socket vibrated. Fiery-hot pain blared at the area in an angry welt that spread hurt all over her face.

  Worst of all, and probably due to how close to her eye he hit her, she struggled to hold her eye open. It dropped at half-mast, the swelling starting and growing rapidly.

  His arms wrapped around her waist, the pain from the kick making her sob, and then he lifted her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and took off out the backdoor.

  She couldn’t keep her eyes open. The jarring movement as he ran only bolstered the pain in her ribs and face. Her entire brain jostled as though it’d been slammed against something really hard. Oh, right, it had—his fist.

  As lulling pain encompassed her senses, overwhelming her into submission, she only had one last thought—don’t let me die without Gavin knowing I love him.

  CHAPTER 22

  Shit. “I fucked up,” Gavin said.

  Hart looked up at him briefly. “What’d you do now?”

  “I said some shit to Alicia today. Shouldn’t have done it.”

  Hart went back to his notebook. “So, apologize.”

  “Yeah.”

  Hart jotted something in his notebook and slapped it closed. “Okay, now when we go back in there we’ll change it up. We’ll hit Harry next and push him till he talks. We’re going to start laying out the evidence before him, but let me do this. We gotta do it slowly, try to get him to talk and open up about it. If we play our cards right, he’ll be talking before he knows it.”

  “Fine.”

  Hart’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, you here today or what? If you got some shit to square away then get it done. I’m not gonna have this interrogation fucked because you can’t stop thinking about her.”

  A flash came to mind of two dead children, twelve-year-old Emma and fourteen-year-old Anthony. They’d been dating and now they were both dead. They still had no answers, but Gavin knew that Harry and Marcus had something to do with it. They were closer than ever to nailing the bastards. Closer to figuring out who had run Alicia and Jo off the road and poisoned their meat.

  At Hart’s nod, they entered the room they’d set up for the interrogation. It was in the pack’s main office where they ran the business side things. They even had a small jailhouse in the cellar. The room consisted of three chairs and a long folding table. Harry sat across the table with his arms handcuffed behind his back. His brother, Marcus, waited in the jail down below.

  “Back so soon?” Harry drawled.

  Gavin crossed his arms and sat back. This wasn’t his area of expertise. Hart, on the other hand, looked so relaxed he could have been on a beach enjoying sun rays. He whistled a tune as he reached into his briefcase and took out a manila folder.

  “You guys are a bunch of schmucks. Thinkin’ you got shit on me. You don’t have nothin’ ’cause I haven’t done nothin’.”

  “Aside from your terrible grammar, we have a lot on you, Harry,” Hart began. “See, we waited until we had sufficient evidence before we made a move. Now, it just so happens that the evidence I have here points straight to you. I won’t lie to you

  ---”

  “Bullshit!” he snapped. “The MacKellens are nothin’ but liars!”

  Hart continued, “I won’t lie to you, but this is damning stuff right here.” He tapped his finger on the file.

  Harry shook his head in disbelief. “Such bullshit, man. We didn’t do shit. I didn’t do shit. You’re sniffin’ up the wrong tree.”

  “Why don’t you tell me about the night Emma died?”

  “I already told you. I was at home watching TV with David and Marcus.”

  “Hmm, okay. We’ll be bringing him in to verify his statement with yours of course.”

  Harry tensed, a snarl lifting his mouth. “You motherfucker. Don’t touch my little brother! I’ll—”

  Hart leaned forward, all gentle in the face and pro
fessional. “You’ll what?”

  Harry’s shoulders shook with anger before he leaned back, once again close-mouthed.

  “All right, then. What were you watching?”

  “Huh?”

  “The night that Emma Linchman was found murdered, what were you watching on TV?”

  Harry looked down, his jaw grinding. “Some stupid shit. I don’t know the name of it. One of them reality type shows.”

  “What channel was it on?” Hart asked.

  “Hell if I know. We just flipped through the channels till we found something to watch. Lots of people do it.”

  “Where was Marcus?”

  “Asleep. I don’t know. Not like I watch every move he makes.”

  Hart ran his finger down a file in the folder. “Let’s move on to something else. Have you ever rented a car, Harry?”

  “So what? Is that a crime in this pack now?”

  Gavin leaned forward, a growl around his words. “It is when that car is used to try to kill my mate.”

  Two faces turned to look at him in surprise. “Mate?” Hart asked, looking both confused and amused.

  Damn. No use arguing now, he’d publically claimed her as mate and he’d have to stick to it. He might have smiled if he didn’t feel like shit about how he acted that morning. “She is my mate. Any wrong done to her is a wrong done to me.”

  “Ah hell,” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t do shit to her. I could give a fuck about her.”

  “It’s been long noted in the pack that you’ve always had a vendetta against Jo MacKellen. He was in the car that night,” Hart added.

  Harry glared. “Good for him then. Too bad he didn’t get hurt.”

  “Did you rent a black Ford Explorer the night Alicia Clarkson and Jo MacKellen were rammed off the road?” Hart asked.

  Harry pretended to think about. “You know, can’t say that I did seeing as I was with my brothers at home.”

  Hart fidgeted and scratched the back of his neck. He wasn’t actually uncomfortable, Gavin noted, but playing the part. “See, here’s the problem, Harry. I’ve got three witnesses that all saw someone with your description there that day. An innocent bystander named Michael Givens had his wallet stolen from a restaurant outside the pack. His ID and credit card were used for the rental just fifteen minutes away from the pack.”

  “I never even went anywhere that day. Did you actually show anyone a picture of me? Or did you just give these three ‘witnesses’ a broad description? In that case, I sound like a million other people. Great detective work. Blond man, tall and white. I’m sure I’m the only one out there.”

  “Well see, it just so happens that someone matching your description was seen renting the car and dropping it off at the gas station after the crime. Three different people, all recognizing your description on that night.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “All right then. Tell us where you were that night.”

  “At home, with my brothers.”

  “What were you doing?”

  Harry’s jaw clenched. “Watching TV.”

  “Ya’ll watch a lot of TV. I don’t have much time for that myself,” Hart said.

  “Yeah, ’cause you’re too busy snoopin’ up the wrong tree.”

  Hart leaned back in his chair, slinging one arm behind it. Gavin couldn’t help but feel fierce pride at his brother. Only a few years younger, Hart was the second eldest and a good detective.

  “Let’s talk about something else now. I noticed that you were working on the day Gavin ordered two steaks to be sent to the house. Did you cut the meat yourself?”

  Harry fell quiet, his eyes downcast.

  “See, I already talked to your manager, Adam Lane, and he says you were working in the back at the time of the order. Meaning you had to butcher up that meat yourself.”

  Still not looking up, Harry said, “I just butcher the meat. That’s all I do. I don’t see who orders it. I get an order for two rib-eyes and I cut the damn rib-eye. Simple. Plus, I wasn’t there alone. Though I guess you’re ignorin’ that little fact, aren’t ya? So tell me, have you asked Will where he was the night those kids died?”

  Harry’s cackling laughter filled the room.

  “Hell no, can’t look at little brother. The MacKellens never do no harm. Nope.”

  His laughter snapped something inside Gavin. Gavin stood, sending his chair flying behind him and grabbed the little shit by his shirt, yanking him out of his chair. “Watch your mouth before I make it so you can’t talk no more.”

  The bastard grinned. “You’re so busy thinkin’ it’s me or one of my brothers that you haven’t bothered looking at the other person. Will was working right there with me. Quiet as always. Besides, I can’t say for sure if it was me or him that cut that meat for you. All I know, sure as fuck, is I didn’t tamper with nothin’.” Suddenly all the laughter died from his face. “When you die, it won’t be over some pussy poison or cowardly car accident. You’ll die face-to-face with your killer and then the rightful alpha will take his place.”

  Gavin slammed his fist into the bastard’s mouth for good measure. Fortunately, Hart was there to drag him out of the room because he pulled his arm back for more. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to stop himself from killing him. Just for those accusations alone he deserved a beating.

  Hart shoved him into an empty office, slamming the door behind them. “Get a hold of yourself!”

  “Get a hold of myself? You heard what he said!” Gavin roared, his breathing jacked.

  Hart’s eyes were calculating. “I know you’re pissed about what he said, but what I need you to see now is that he slipped up.”

  He felt like he was trying to jump onto a truck that was already moving, desperately trying to grab hold. “What are you talking about?”

  “He said ‘when you die, the rightful alpha will take his place.’ ”

  Those words slowly penetrated over the anger. “There we go, deep breaths, big boy. So you see, this interrogation has been informative.”

  “They want to kill me for beating Marcus in the alpha challenge, but he’s right. The car accident had nothing to do with me, except that by hurting Alicia it hurts me, but that isn’t a physical pain. And what they want is physical. Marcus wouldn’t poison me. He wants to beat me to a bloody mess with his bare hands. The only cowardly thing Marcus has ever done was…” Gavin touched the ropes of scars on his face. “He only did that as a way to publically brand me, put his mark on me so he’d always know that at least he got me in some way.”

  “Hey, I don’t want to have to do this, but we have to talk about Will.”

  Gavin looked away. It was like some truths were staring him straight in the face but he couldn’t stand to face it. “What? Don’t tell me you believe that bullshit he’s spewing. He’ll point the finger anywhere but at himself or his brothers. You and I both know that.”

  “Yeah, I know that,” Hart conceded. “But I’m going to have to look into this and remove Will as a possible suspect.”

  “A suspect. Will could never have killed those kids. Not in a million years, Hart.”

  Hart was nodding. “I know, so it’ll be easy to clear him of that. I don’t think he did it either. But, Gav, the other thing is a whole different matter.”

  They grew quiet, both lost in their thoughts.

  Could Will have poisoned the meat? All because he was angry with Gavin? “That doesn’t make sense, Hart. If he poisoned the meat to get back at me ’cause he’s mad, then why try to hurt Alicia?”

  Hart paused, then said, “As you said earlier…to hurt you. Maybe to make her leave. Something like that would cut you deep at this point.”

  He thought back to their fight that morning and the way he left. God, he was such an asshole. No better than the past prick she’d dated. He needed apologize, get on his hands and knees and tell her he loved her. Beg her not to leave him. He needed her at his side, not just today or tomorrow, but for the rest of his li
fe.

  Someone knocked on the door and Jo came in, spotted Gavin and grinned. “Saw your woman today. Looked like shit.”

  “Watch your mouth,” he snapped.

  He shrugged. “She said she wants to talk to you.”

  His shoulders hitched with tension. “About what?”

  “I think she wants to apologize, man.”

  Gavin headed toward the door in a heartbeat. “Jo, stick with Hart on this. I don’t want him interrogating the Graham brothers alone.”

  “Got it,” Jo said.

  “Good luck,” Hart said.

  Gavin didn’t give a shit that Jo and Hart laughed at him. All he cared about was fixing this shit-storm that had been riding him all morning. What the hell had he been thinking talking to her like that? Sure, he’d been stressed and pissed off, but the very last thing he wanted was to push her away. Which was just what he’d done.

  God, the sight of those tears had nearly undone him.

  He got into his truck and floored it all the way home. For the first time since she’d arrived he didn’t sneak into his own house, but ran inside. The front door slammed closed behind him.

  Little signals struck him at once. The quiet of the house. The fact that she wasn’t in the living room or in the kitchen table as he’d expected. And that scent…

  He tracked the unusual smell down the hallway, past the basement door, and into the kitchen. The basement door hung open. The lights were on down there but no music, horrible singing, or sounds could be heard.

  Agony struck him hard and swift. A metaphysical sword through the heart. The backdoor hung open. Splotches of blood were smeared on the linoleum.

  The beast inside him roared its mighty head and lunged against the cage enfolding it. Gavin’s head fell back and he let out a fierce battle cry as his lykaen came out. His muscles became harder, stronger, his senses uncanny in their detection.

  With new senses, he inhaled deeply. Two distinct smells struck him at once. The soft, gentle scent of Alicia and his brother, Will’s. A knife lay against the ground, blood still wet on the blade. He raced outside, trying to catch their scents but all he smelled was trees and pollen that made his nose itch.