Dogfight (Alpha MC: The McKinnon Brothers Book 1) (11 page)

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 didn’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.

Once the alphas found out about Connor, Ronan demanded they rejoin the pack. His parents did as they were told, but they kept the house and vacationed there as often as Ronan let them, bringing the boys for some quality time away from the reclusive world of the pack.

It was a great place for shifters because it was secluded in a little bay, hard to get to, and invisible from the ocean.

Connor left the main road, cruised down several side streets, and then pulled into the nearly hidden driveway and guided the bike down the steep and winding hill. When the little house rose up from the thick foliage, his heart swelled. It was small, dark, and had a great view of the beach and the surrounding hills.

He parked by the front door and peeled Casey’s arms from his middle. She winced as she climbed off the bike, stumbling. He caught her, but she jerked out of his grasp. Considering what she had seen, he didn’t blame her. If it hadn’t been for the trips to this house, Connor would have grown up believing that humans were vicious, murdering animals. That was how the alphas taught their children and grandchildren to see humans, but Jackie and Donald had let their sons explore the world and interact with humans.

Not that it had done much good with his younger brothers. It had left Connor with a curiosity about humans, while Aidan and Liam’s attitudes were closer to that of the pack’s.

He left her to follow or not and went inside. The door stuck, squeaking when he shoved it open. It smelled abandoned, musty. Everything looked the same, though; old couches with afghans thrown over the backs, big wooden table and chairs, small kitchen with yellow cabinets that his mother had painted flowers onto. The fridge still held drawings Connor and his brothers had done so many years ago.

Casey banged into the coffee table and swore. He forgot she couldn’t see so well in the dark. He opened the shades and windows, letting in the sunlight and the warm, summer air.

He turned and faced her. She stood in the middle of the living room, staring dazedly at the wood stove.

“I’m gonna run to the store,” Connor said, making her jump. She turned her big green eyes on him. “I’ll get some food, check the area. Be back in an hour. Feel free to take a bath; just let the water run a bit if you want it hot. If you want to sleep, the bedroom’s at the back.”

“Bedroom? As in only one?”

That was her concern? “Yeah, my parents were big on co-sleeping, so one bedroom, one bed. Sleep on it or sleep on a couch. Your choice.” Wherever she slept, he’d find somewhere far away from her in this small house.

When she didn’t move, Connor slipped past her, careful not to touch her, in case the thin thread that was holding her together fell apart. He didn’t have time to deal with any breakdowns. He needed to get supplies and figure out what to do with her.

Once outside, Connor pulled out his phone while he walked around the house. He had calls and texts from Aidan, all demanding to know if he was still alive. The last text he’d sent, twenty minutes ago, said he was going to hunt him down if he didn’t answer in a half hour.

Connor texted that he was alive. Sent that. Started a new text saying they were laying low for a while.

Aidan asked who
they
were.

Connor ignored him. He had one text from Frankie. Stomach in a knot, he read.

I’ll see you soon, Mr. Wolf.

Connor sighed hard through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. He had fucked everything up. Never before had there been such a colossal fuck up in their pack. That video, Frankie having it, could mean the exposure of a centuries old secret. The fear that his family’s existence would ignite if the world found out about them would end with the genocide of his entire race. There weren’t enough shifters to take on all of the humans. And there weren’t enough places in the world left to hide.

It was Connor’s fault and it was up to him to protect his family.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Casey watched Connor walk around the house, his head passing the windows, and then heard the bike roar to life and disappear back up the driveway. Finally, she relaxed, slumping and wanting to cry. She’d held on way too tight and now her muscles were screaming in agony. A bath sounded amazing right then. Everything she was thinking, feeling, it could all wait.

She limped through the kitchen and down a short hall where she found the one bedroom. Peeking inside, she found a small room with a large bed, big dresser, and a rocking chair. There were family photos on the walls of a couple and three young boys. Connor’s family.

The bathroom was laughably small, but it had one of those old fashioned, deep, claw foot tubs. Giddy with relief, she sat on the edge of the tub as the water turned hot. She found shampoo and soap in a cabinet, stripped out of her boots and coverall, and then sank into the steamy water.

She moaned as it enveloped her, cradling her body in its relaxing, hot, depths. She could die now and be okay with it, she thought. And then she remembered Victor’s hands on her, the certainty of death, and she decided living wasn’t such a bad thing.

Casey washed her hair and body, wincing as she ran the soap over her hips. The bruises were turning purple, getting bad before they got better. It wasn’t funny, but she grinned. Of the three men who’d manhandled her the past two days, it was Connor who had left marks. Well, Frankie did leave bruises on her throat. But, even though he did rape her, she wasn’t in pain between her legs.

Quite the opposite actually.

After everything that had happened she was surprised she could have any sort of reaction other than fear or disgust when she thought about sex.

Yet, thinking about Connor behind her, inside her, sent heat spiraling into her belly.

Her hand floated along the water, drifting to her middle, and then dipped under the surface. She slid her fingers over the smooth skin and down between the folds. Biting her lip to keep quiet in case he came back soon, she slid two fingers inside and rubbed herself with her thumb. Her other hand skimmed over her nipples where they poked out of the water.

She moved against her hand, the water lapping slightly, and panted as her orgasm started to grow.

She heard the footfalls before he appeared in the doorway, enough time to stop what she was doing and throw her hands over herself.

Her scream was raspy and pitiful.

“What the hell?” she gasped.

He stared around the small bathroom and frowned. “I—I thought someone got in the window. Your heart started racing.” His eyes moved over her naked body and stopped on her heated cheeks. His smile was slow. “What were you doing, Casey?”

“Nothing. Get out. Pervert.”

He chuckled. “I’m not the one touching myself in a stranger’s bathtub.”

She threw the soap at him, but he caught it, leaving the bathroom laughing.

He called from the hallway, “I’m making spaghetti. Join me after you get off.”

Casey glared at the doorway. God damn him. The water was cold now and her lady boner gone. Wrapped in a towel Casey stared at the discarded coverall with distaste.

“Is there something I can wear here?” she called, leaning out the bathroom door, her voice sounding more like her own.

His head appeared at the end of the hall, making Casey’s cheeks warm. “The dresser in the bedroom has some of my mom’s old clothes. She’s taller than you, but something’ll fit.”

She waited until he was gone before stepping into the hall. The dresser was a chaotic jumble of women’s, men’s, and boy’s clothing. She dug through until she found what she thought was the safest thing to wear around Connor. The jeans were baggy, but her ass kept them up, and the tee shirt was old and soft.