Loch (Belles & Bratva Beasts #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

LOCH

They say the devil comes as everything you’ve wished for.

But isn’t there another saying? About being careful what you wish for?

Because I’m getting butterflies and shit. Like, I’m not a grown man, knocking on thirty. No, I’m back in sixth grade and about to get my first kiss from Kristen Morris on the school bus. Never did though. I punked out. Sorry, Kristen. Wasn’t you. It was my first boner. It grounded me in my seat.

But I’m not punking out this time.

I’ve wished for this moment since I was eighteen… but I suspect Alena Allen isn’t wishing for me.

Hell, she doesn’t even know I exist.

Yet.

“What do you say, Mutt? I get a do-over on the sixth grade, but this time, we control Boner?”

Mutt gives me a half-ass bark. Sitting on the passenger seat of my truck, my golden shepherd is more interested in the squirrels eating peanut shells by the garbage can of the gas station than the woman I’m here to stalk.

I mean… secretly bodyguard.

I check the time. It’s 5:22 p.m. Alena should pull up any minute.

I really should warn her about her schedule. She’s disciplined. She moves like clockwork. I like that about her, but it makes this stalking shit too damn easy.

Woof! Mutt Damon goes apeshit when another truck pulls into this gas station parking lot at the base of a looming verdant mountain. The horizon wrapped in undulating, hazy blue peaks.

The truck has a fetching collie in its bed, and I get it.

My nerves are barking inside my veins too. My heart’s doing this weird thing. It’s a crisp spring afternoon, but I’m testing the power of my deodorant. Cool on the outside. A firebomb on the inside. Like a male virgin in a brothel.

I finally get a chance with Alena.

“Settle down.” I scruff Mutt’s head. “That collie’s not who we’re here for.”

No, we’re here for a captivating woman who has no idea she’s in danger.

The question is, is Alena at risk because she doesn’t know that her father is secretly in the mafia? Well, ex-mafia, like my brothers and me? And she’s a target for our enemies?

They really like kidnapping kids, even the adult ones. You’d sell your soul to your enemy if they had your child. So if your child’s a mafia princess, like Alena, the less she knows, the better.

Or am I the one at risk?

Because I’m secretly in love with Alena, and said secret mafia father would fucking kill me if he knew. We’re not blood brothers, but he thinks of me as one, and he’s really into eye gouging.

No, thanks.

I like my eyes, but…

They really like Alena.

She’s got this smile that frickin’ makes my chest explode. My eyes get all blinded too. Maybe it was the wind on the beach. That’s where I’d go, and she’d happen to be there. Every weekend. Noon until sunset.

Yeah, I’ll be ticking all the this-shit-is-reckless boxes on this bodyguard assignment. But blame it on my brothers. They’re making me do it. I’m the baby brother of seven, who gets away with murder—five scumbags so far—so they put me on this detail…

Guarding Alena.

They’re really twisting my arm here.

Making me move to the majestic Pisgah National Forest in the North Carolina mountains to watch a gorgeous mafia princess I’ve been obsessed with for years.

The suffering is real.

They don’t know I’m in love with Alena. They’d kill me if they knew, but that’s what it is—love.

Sure, I’ve never spoken to her. I wasn’t allowed. Me and my brothers hide in plain sight; most can’t even know we’re related.

We appear as the guy at the gas station, or your pastor, lawyer, and accountant. Not escaped Bratva brothers, whose evil father is really fucking pissed and looking for us.

So I’ve been just some guy in the crowd, watching our mafia princess blossom, while she became my secret obsession with rosebud lips.

For years.

But I’m a closet romantic. I read romcom books. They’re fucking hilarious. And hot. So let’s go with I’ve been in love with Alena Allen from afar.

It’s less stalkery.

Finally, the white SUV with a black front push bumper, light bar, and a green US Forest Service door emblem appears. It parks in front of the convenience store.

A tall woman in a khaki shirt and dark-green uniform pants emerges from the driver’s seat. Her lush curves and that ass—goddamn killing me.

Fuck, I’m in sixth grade again.

Boner wants to play.

A Forest Ranger uniform is about as sexy as a stomach flu, like a vomit of dull khaki and green. But damn, Alena Allen makes her uniform look dangerously hot.

Waving to the elderly couple filling up their hatchback, she tucks a tawny lock of hair that’s escaped her long braid behind her ear.

She ignores the three teenagers leaning against their truck, catcalling with their bullshit, while I note their license plate and how big their graves will need to be.

Swinging the glass door open to the store, she disappears inside, and it’s showtime.

“Stay here,” I tell Mutt. “And don’t hump my dash over that collie. You hear?”

If dogs could roll their eyes, Mutt just did.

Sliding out of my truck, I flip my dark-green baseball hat backward. I know my size; I’m going for cute, not scary as fuck.

I’m tempted to issue death threats as I stalk past the teen hecklers. I should tell them their little-dick energy shows every time they catcall a woman.

But I’m on a mission.

The chime above the door sounds as I enter, and I nod at the cashier behind the counter. Jesse and I have a little arrangement.

On cue, as I aim for the far wall with the soda fountain machines and days-old hot dogs spinning on a rotisserie, Alena brushes past me, telling Jesse, “Hey, um. You’re out of cups for the Slurpee machine.”

“What? Really?” I whip around, sounding surprised. “Yeah, man, I’ll need one too.”

“Just a moment.” Jesse stands, ramrod straight. “Please. I will. Get more cups.” He’s as animated as a robot, pivoting to go in the back, while I turn to Alena.

Heart pounding.

Dick stirring.

Soul exploding.

Face coolly grinning. “Guess Slurpees are popular here.”

That’s it? That’s my opening line?

Way to make her swipe left, Loch.

“Yeah.” Alena steps back, guardedly glancing at me. “Guess so.”

It’s all she says. Not that I blame her. She’s trained to observe, to be suspicious, and I just stole all the swagger from the air with my Captain Obvious comment.

“Here.” Jesse emerges from the back, carrying a sleeve of neon cups. Woodenly, he shoves them in my face, “Sorry. About. Being. All out of cups. Can you please help me? And. Load them up? I am. Busy. With customers.”

No, he isn’t.

We’re the only ones in the store.

Clearly, Jesse didn’t take drama classes at his local high school.

“Sure.” I grab the sleeve, fighting an eye roll. “Got it. Thanks, man.”

He pivots again, marching back to his place behind the counter while I slide the row of cups into the dispenser.

Saving the last two, I hand one to Alena like I’m presenting a red rose, not a neon forty-ounce cup. But I keep my mouth shut. It’s not the skilled part of my body working right now. No, that part twitches in my pants.

Damn, she has pretty chestnut eyes.

And a cute smudge of dirt on her lips.

“Thank you.” She takes the cup while I hold my breath. Because she has manners, my silence forces her to comment, “Guess the Slurpees are popular here.”

Houston, we have lift off.

Now, be chill.

“Can’t blame ’em.” I gesture for her to go first while I quip, “A Slurpee a day keeps the assholes away.”

What did I just say?

Since when am I a poet? Maybe I should let Boner do the talking after all. He’s been well trained, while my mouth clearly suffers from amateur status.

Alena stifles her giggle, reaching for the cherry cola handle, filling her cup. “Never thought of it that way.” She grins. “Assholes and Slurpees. But if you say so.”

Don’t! Don’t say it! I don’t care what kinky vision you just got of how your tongue could show her, don’t you fucking dare!

I clench my jaw, nodding. Admiring her pour, I say, “Classic choice: cherry cola.” I reach for the handle on the machine beside her, filling my cup with neon green, then fluorescent yellow.

“But I gotta go with this new combo—watermelon lime mixed with lemonade. Read about it in Bon Appétit magazine.”

Alena stops short, her jaw dropping. “You? Read about Slurpees? In a culinary magazine?”

“Yeah, I’m a loyal fan of the drink.”

So is Alena.

She gets one every day around five thirty and seven thirty on weekends. Back home in Charleston, she’d go to the convenience store near Folly Beach, where I happened to be filling my full gas tank.

This goddamn gorgeous woman has no idea how I know everything about her, and how I’m not supposed to want her like my next breath.

I understand why her father needs to keep her safe. What our enemies could do to her makes me murderous.

But what I could do to her? It makes me want to kiss those mud-specked lips.

“Me too.” She finally gives me a smile, all radiant and reaching her eyes… and my chest explodes, my eyes blinking. She keeps talking, while I’m staring at the sun. “I get a Slurpee every day. They remind me of my mom. She loved them. Cherry cola. Classic, like she was.”

Sorry, Alena.

I know your mom died when you were ten. I know it almost broke your spirit, and your father didn’t know what to do. I know about your cruel bully too. How he made you cry that day on the beach.

But now it’s time for my dick move.

Trust me.

It’ll seal our fate.

Women like their men, all unattainable yet theirs, all aloof except attracted, all dark and dangerous but not deadly unless it’s to unalive their evil ex. I borrow my sister-in-law’s smutty books. They’re like instruction manuals for heteroflexible men.

Lucky for me, most men don’t get it. They mock romance books, so that leaves more women for me. Like shooting fish in a barrel.

But I only want this one.

This one, killing me with that wishful smile, lighting up her face like birthday candles.

“Yeah, well… have a good one, Ranger.” I nod toward her uniform. Turning back to the counter, I call over my shoulder, “Slurpee’s on me.”

My heart clenches, knowing I just left Alena standing there. All happy and vulnerable and like what the fuck?

This was our meet-cute.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

I’m about to move in next door to her. I’m about to shadow her every move, pretending to be her colleague, maybe even her trusted friend, while I’ll be guarding her shoulder and looking over my own for threats.

Alena faces more dangers than the black bears up here.

She has no idea she’s more than a forest ranger, hiding in plain sight.

She’s the daughter of a ruthless mafia king.

The first princess in my family. She’s not related to me, but she’s bound to us, in a secret society who protect her as ours.

She believes her father’s random friends are harmless, not secret vigilantes avenging our Bratva father’s crimes, making her a prime target for revenge.

And I have no idea how I’m going to be her secret bodyguard, as her father has insisted, without anyone knowing that every time I close my eyes—in bed, online, at the beach, or in a gas station—I see her.

I want her.

I’m in love with Alena Allen.

For now, I hear the keys on the carabiner hooked to her utility belt jangle as she silently walks behind me, leaving through the glass doors.

Slapping a fifty down, I tell Jesse, “Thanks, man. Good performance with those cups.”

“Look, man,” Jesse warns, swiping up the Grant, “fucking with a ranger can get you killed around here.”

“Yeah, I know.” I turn my hat back around, revealing the Forest Service emblem. I reach, grabbing the Slurpee, my T-shirt lifting to reveal my hidden gun. “I’m a ranger too.”