Chapter 5
The alley door slams behind me, and I gulp down air that carries the stench of garbage and stale cigarettes. My heart hammers as I put distance between myself and the back entrance of the Blue Note.
I don’t remember leaving my stool or bolting for the door. The narrow space between the buildings offers no real escape, though, as my mind scrambles to understand how the Alpha who keeps popping up at my workplace found me here, in the one place I thought was safe.
Broken glass crunches under my boots as I pace, counting my breaths. One, two, three…
The door creaks open again, and Rowan’s scent hits me before he speaks, whiskey and the lingering copper of tonight’s violence. He lets the door swing shut before he steps closer, each knuckle cracking as he flexes his fingers one by one while he sizes up the situation.
“You’re wound tight.” He leans one shoulder on the brick wall. “I thought you were getting along with your new in-laws.”
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth might crack. “Not my in-laws. Micah’s in-laws.”
Micah’s my boy, but he’s not only mine anymore.
“Thought it was the same thing with you two.” His head tilts, taking the measure of my spiraling. “So what happened between you and the pretty Alpha inside to spook you into running?”
I wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “Not a damn thing.”
A lie. Gabriel has invaded every corner of my existence, watching me with those damn hazel eyes, offering gifts I never asked for. Now he’s here, too. There’s no escaping the man.
Rowan doesn’t buy it. We’ve known each other too long for him to miss my tells when I’m withholding information.
“If he crosses a line, or he’s interfering with your work and won’t back off… It doesn’t matter what kind of connections his family has. I’ll handle it.”
There was a time when I might have nodded and let Rowan solve my problems the way he solves everything, with violence and a body that disappears. But now the thought horrifies me, one more sign of how fucked up I am about Gabriel.
“He’s harmless,” I mutter, the words unconvincing even to my own ears.
Before Rowan can demand more, the back door creaks open again. The sound freezes me mid-step, muscles locking tight as a prickle of awareness raises goose bumps all over my body. Gabriel’s unique pheromones hit my senses, and my nostrils flare, drinking him in.
Fuck.
No other Alpha has smelled good to me. Not just Alpha. No one. I shove that thought down, refusing to acknowledge what it might mean, and bury it beneath layers of anger and resentment.
Rowan straightens to alertness as Gabriel steps into the alley, his thousand-dollar shoes navigating the grimy concrete with careful steps while his hands tuck into his pockets.
His uncertainty somehow pisses me off even more.
I turn to walk away, my boots scraping loose gravel.
“Wait, Saint, hold on a second,” Gabriel calls after me.
I stop walking, not because Gabriel asked, but because Rowan shifts to block my path. My fingers curl into fists as I glare at my friend, promising retribution.
Rowan’s mouth quirks up at one corner, amused by my reaction, which only stokes the fire building inside.
Gabriel glances between us, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Look, I didn’t follow you here, I swear. I came because I need to talk to Orien.”
I glare at him. “Yeah. I heard.”
“And I didn’t chase you out here, either.” Gabriel shifts with discomfort. “Orien said he’d meet me out back.”
I stiffen. Orien isn’t anyone’s friend, least of all Gabriel’s, and if he told the Alpha to meet him out here, it’s because he wants to throw gas on the fire.
Rowan’s lips purse. “Are you meeting Ori for business or personal?”
“Business.” Gabriel’s shoulders straighten, and the uncertain mask slips for a fraction of a second, revealing a cool calculation underneath.
Unease prickles through me. I don’t know this version of Gabriel. I thought I had him figured out. The rich flirt who couldn’t take a hint. The spoiled Alpha with nothing better to do than chase after club security.
This Gabriel is an unknown variable.
Before Rowan can ask more questions, the back door swings open again, and all three of us turn toward the sound, conversation dying as Orien steps out into the alley.
Pale gray eyes scan Gabriel, cataloging him from head to toe like he’s measuring him for a body bag.
I tense, waiting for Orien to tell Gabriel to get lost, no matter who sent him. Orien doesn’t tolerate outsiders in his territory, especially ones who reek of money and privilege.
Instead, Orien nods once. “Avery Moore’s brother-in-law?”
My head snaps toward Gabriel so fast my neck cracks.
Avery Moore is a name whispered in backroom deals and street-corner conversations. A gunrunner who somehow never saw the inside of a jail cell and, as far as I know, was not connected to the Rockfords.
Gabriel hesitates for a heartbeat, his fingers twitching. “Yes.”
A chill raises the fine hairs on the back of my neck. I’d written Gabriel off as the harmless, pampered, youngest sibling of Micah’s mate. But linking his name to an arms dealer proves I was wrong.
Orien jerks his chin toward me. “Then you’re with him.”
I step back, putting distance between myself and Gabriel. “What? No.”
Orien ignores my protest, his attention fixed on Gabriel as if I hadn’t spoken. The dismissal burns, but I’m too caught up in his assumption to push back.
What the hell made him think Gabriel and I were together?
Orien folds his arms across his chest, his stance immovable. “Word on the street says Tony’s resurfacing, and your family would want to know he’s trying to set up new trafficking channels.”
Gabriel’s face hardens, transforming him from soft to deadly in an instant. “Tony Rossi?”
“Who the hell is Tony?” I demand. “And what does this have to do with me?”
Orien’s focus sharpens as it slides to me, and his eyebrow lifts in challenge. “Thought you wanted in on the group who tried to sell your boy.”
My lungs empty, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. Micah. He’s talking about Micah. The stalker who followed my best friend wasn’t just some obsessed fan. He was connected to human traffickers.
If this Tony guy was in on it… My vision turns red around the edges.
Gabriel’s jaw flexes at my reaction. “Why couldn’t you have given this info to Sebastian over the phone?”
Orien shrugs. “I like to see who I’m doing business with, especially when it’s not with my usual clients.”
“Caleb and my bro— Caleb and Avery are tracking leads out of town,” he admits. “So I was sent to handle things.”
He appears genuinely uncomfortable, as if he didn’t plan to reveal so much, and I don’t trust it. I thought I had a read on Gabriel, had placed him in his box, and this new information is messing with my head. Suspicion prickles through me as I wonder what else his perfect smile hides.
“Does Aaiden know you’re here?” I demand.
I can’t imagine the head of the Rockford family jeopardizing his baby brother.
A muscle jumps in Gabriel’s cheek. “My brother is far too busy to do footwork, so unless you want your bestie’s mate down here, which would lead to Micah being here….”
My lips peel back in a snarl of refusal.
Orien steps closer, holding out a slip of paper. “Here are the details. You can go with him, or you can let him go alone.”
It’s not a request. It’s not even a suggestion. It’s Orien deciding my night for me, and my Alpha instincts bristle at the presumption.
“I don’t play babysitter,” I snap, teeth bared.
Orien remains unmoved. “Didn’t say you did. Said the rich guy needs backup, and I’m busy.”
I take a deep breath. This is about Micah and the traffickers who almost took someone I care about. This is a chance at a revenge Orien knows I want more than my next breath.
Gabriel’s gaze tracks across my face, down to my clenched fists, and back up as if he can read the thoughts racing through my mind.
I hate it. I hate Gabriel needing me instead of simply wanting me, and I hate how much the difference matters. Need makes sense. Need has purpose and structure. Want is messy, complicated, and dangerous.
“I have time if you don’t,” Rowan offers from behind me, and my hackles rise.
I recognize the curl to his lips. If I leave Rowan alone with Gabriel, he’ll either beat the Alpha bloody or have his name added to a ledger and on payroll by morning.
The thought drags a snarl up my throat before I can stop it.
Rowan’s eyebrows lift, interest sparking at my reaction. I clench my teeth against offering an excuse for why the idea of him and Gabriel together sets me on edge.
Gabriel takes a small step back, offering space I didn’t ask for but desperately need.
The tiny concession is the only reason I don’t walk away. “One night. That’s it.”
A relieved sigh escapes him. “Okay. One night.”
Orien steps back toward the door, his mission accomplished.
The door slams shut, leaving Gabriel and me alone in the alley with Rowan, who studies us both with newfound interest.
Gabriel’s mouth opens, then closes, as if he can’t decide what to say. For once, the endless confidence that irritates me at the club is nowhere to be found.
I turn toward my motorcycle parked at the curb.
Gabriel follows a few steps behind, his thousand-dollar shoes scuffing the concrete.
I rip open the saddlebag and grab my leather jacket, shrugging it on. Then I lift my helmet from where it hangs on the handlebar, and without looking at Gabriel, I shove it at his chest.
“Get on,” I order. “And don’t talk.”
The helmet connects with his sternum with more force than necessary, but Gabriel doesn’t flinch. He takes it with both hands, a soft, stupidly hopeful smile spreading across his face, and it hits me in the gut with unwelcome, confusing emotions.
Ignoring him, I mount my bike. The leather seat creaks beneath me as I settle into position, key in the ignition but not turning it yet.
Behind me, Gabriel hesitates for only a second before putting on the helmet, and the black visor transforms him into a faceless shadow.
Better that way. Easier to pretend he’s just another body I need to transport from one place to another.
The motorcycle dips as he climbs on behind me, the suspension adjusting to his added weight, and heat radiates through my jeans where his thighs hug the outside of mine. My pulse jumps in an instinctive reaction to having another Alpha so close to my back.
Breathe. Focus. This is about Micah, not about Gabriel Rockford and his intoxicating scent.
The engine roars to life beneath us, the vibrations doing little to settle my anxiety.
Gabriel shifts behind me, uncertain where to put his hands. His knuckles brush my sides as he searches for purchase, and my muscles contract at the contact.
I hold my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do.
Hesitantly, his arms circle my waist, hands resting over my abdomen. Even through layers of clothing, his touch burns like a brand. My heartbeat kicks up another notch.
The release from earlier tonight, the calm after violence, vanishes as if it never existed. In its absence, pressure builds under my skin, the familiar itch returning with a vengeance.
I grip the throttle tighter, knuckles whitening.
Focus on the mission, not on the Alpha molding his strong body to your back. Find Tony. Get justice for Micah.
Nothing else matters.