Chapter 3
Tanner
I want to punch Gabriel in his perfectly straight nose. Not that I would. We’re civilized alphas and all that shit, but damn if he doesn’t deserve it. The way he tried to steamroll this woman makes my hands itch for my training gloves.
She’d walked in looking rumpled but spirited, hair wild, t-shirt damp with sweat, and chin raised.
Not our usual dinner guest, but it’s refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t give a damn about impressing the mighty Stantons.
Hell, she’d even had the balls to throw Gabriel’s condescension right back in his face.
“Dr. Hilliard’s on her way,” I announce.
Gabriel and Elliot are too busy hovering over her to acknowledge me.
Leo is back with an ice pack so fast I don’t know how he made it all the way to the kitchen and back.
He’s got it wrapped in a towel and presses it gently against her forehead like he might break her.
His face has a protective look I recall from when I took a bad hit in the ring two years ago.
Even Elliot’s trying to play doctor, though his PhD’s about as useful as my right hook in this situation.
I scan the room and take in details like I would before a fight.
The bed’s too big for her. It’s one of those massive things Gabriel insisted on for all the guest rooms. The Egyptian cotton sheets are as fancy as everything else in the place.
Kimmie looks small against all the pristine white, her skin ruddy with fever.
The door bursts open and our neighbor, Dr. Hilliard, strides in, medical bag in hand.
She’s pushing sixty but moves like she’s thirty.
She’s wearing a white tennis dress and matching shoes, and her gray hair is short and practical.
Last time I saw her in a medical situation, she was popping my shoulder back into place with the kind of no nonsense efficiency that makes grown alphas respect her.
She doesn’t take shit from anyone, not even Gabriel.
“What happened?” She shoulders past Gabriel like he’s a junior intern instead of the most powerful alpha in the city.
Smart woman.
“She collapsed.” Gabriel tries to take control of the situation, because that’s all he knows how to do. His tailored suit hasn’t even wrinkled. The bastard. “We were having a business discussion…”
“He was threatening her business while she was clearly unwell,” I cut in, earning a death glare from our pack leader. But screw hierarchy right now. “She showed up looking exhausted, and instead of rescheduling, he ambushed her with four alphas and a hostile takeover attempt.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightens. Yeah, he knows what he did.
That’s his favorite play, overwhelm them with the full pack’s presence, wear them down with luxury and intimidation until they cave.
I’ve seen him do it a half dozen times with business rivals.
Usually works, too. But this beta? She’d matched him barb for barb until her legs gave out.
Dr. Hilliard checks Kimmie’s vitals. “Temperature’s 103.2. Any other symptoms before she collapsed?”
“She was sweating more than the room temperature warranted.” Leo moves away from the bedside to give the doc some room but leaves the ice pack against the side of Kimmie’s neck. “Her scent changed too—became acidic.”
Elliot lingers near the foot of the bed like an anxious professor. “She asked to turn up the air conditioning, and her speech slurred.”
The doctor pulls out a box that looks like a pregnancy test. She opens the kit and pulls out a long, cotton tipped swab, then applies it to the inside of Kimmie’s nose.
She drops the swab into a little plastic device and sets a timer on her smart watch.
“Might be a virus, but let’s confirm. The slurred speech and loss of consciousness concern me. ”
“We’ve called an ambulance,” Gabriel says, like he’s expecting a cookie for basic human decency. He’s standing in what I call his CEO pose. His feet are planted, hands clasped behind his back as he radiates authority. Usually works on everyone except his pack…and Kimmie.
“Good.” Dr. Hilliard prepares a syringe using a vial from her bag. She preps Kimmie’s skin with an alcohol wipe, then injects the needle into her arm. “This should help with the fever. We’ll know in about fifteen minutes if it’s flu or something else, but either way I want her temp to come down.”
She moves the ice pack to the other side of Kimmie’s neck, then settles in to wait.
The room falls into tense silence. I lean against the wall, arms crossed, and watch Gabriel abandon his stance to pace like a caged animal. His shoes make soft clicking sounds against the hardwood floor. They’re expensive Italian leather, probably hand stitched by virgin artisans or some shit.
Good. Let him stew in what he’s done. Sure, none of us stopped him, but we didn’t know he’d set up ambush. When he said “dinner guest,” I figured on another omega he wanted us to court, not some beta whose business he wanted to destroy.
The paramedics arrive just as the doctor’s watch beeps.
Two guys who look fresh out of training roll in with enough equipment to stock a small ER.
Dr. Hilliard checks the test and nods. “Definitely a flu virus. Test says it’s variant 469-O.
Alphas are immune to this strain, so there’s no danger she transmitted it to any of you.
” She uses one of those ear thermometers on Kimmie again.
“The fever’s already responding to the medication. ”
One of the paramedics—he looks about twelve—recognizes Dr. Hilliard. “Dr. H! Good to see you. What’ve we got?”
She brings them up to speed while the other guy sets up monitoring equipment. Each beep and wire makes my skin crawl. Reminds me too much of post-fight checkups. “Given the high fever and loss of consciousness, it still may be best to transport her to the hospital,” Dr. Hilliard says.
Kimmie’s eyes fly open at the word “hospital.” They’re glassy with fever but filled with pure panic.
Even barely conscious, she’s got more fight in her than most alphas I know.
“No! No hospitals!” She tries to sit up but falls back.
Her t-shirt is practically plastered to her skin.
“Can’t afford…insurance doesn’t…please, no—”
Gabriel steps forward full of alpha authority that usually has people tripping over themselves to comply. “Miss Carmichael, don’t concern yourself with the cost. I’ll ensure—”
“Go to hell!” She actually snarls at him, which would be impressive if she weren’t shaking so hard. “Don’t want your money…don’t want—” Her breathing turns ragged.
“She’s not going anywhere.” The words are out of my mouth before I can think better of them—not that I would.
Three pairs of alpha eyes and one set of feverish beta eyes turn to me in surprise.
Dr. Hilliard’s eyebrows go up, and I’ve never seen the woman surprised by anything.
Well, in for a penny… “Doc, can you treat her here?”
She considers for a moment, her expression thoughtful.
“With proper care and monitoring, yes. The flu test is positive. We caught it early, and she’s young and seems otherwise healthy.
But she’ll need round-the-clock supervision for at least the next twenty-four hours to make sure her temperature doesn’t spike too high.
Along with the high fever, this variant can cause severe muscle weakness, so she’ll need help getting around.
It typically resolves fairly quickly, and I can give her a nasal spray to further lessen the duration. ”
“I’ll take first watch.” I meet Gabriel’s pissed off expression with my own. He’s using his alpha glare, the one that makes board members wet themselves. But I’ve seen scarier looks in the ring. “Unless you object?” We both know I don’t give a fuck if he objects. It’s a challenge, plain and simple.
He opens his mouth, but Kimmie’s weak voice cuts through the tension. “Please. No hospital!”
Maybe Gabriel realizes what an ass he’s been because he nods once. He takes a deep audible breath, the kind I recognize from pack meetings when he knows he’s wrong but won’t admit it.
“Fine. She stays. But Tanner?” His voice drops to a dangerous register that means someone’s about to get their ass handed to them. “A word. Now.”
I straighten from my wall lean, rolling my shoulders.
The movement’s automatic, something I did before every fight.
Let him try to intimidate me. I’ve faced down bigger opponents in the ring, but none of them had Gabriel’s advantage of being head alpha of my pack.
This is going to suck, but I don’t care.
Someone needs to stand up for the little guy. Or in this case, the gutsy beta who just told the most powerful alpha in the city where to shove his carrot.
I follow Gabriel into the hallway, already planning my defense. Whatever. Defending Kimmie was worth it. Almost as good as the way she’d handled him at dinner, right up until she collapsed.
That woman’s got more balls than half the alphas I know. Least I can do is make sure she gets the chance to tell Gabriel off again when she’s feeling better.