Chapter 9
Gunnar
The hallway door opens and Alexandria steps out.
Her hair is a dark cloud around her shoulders, all tangled from sleep, and she’s barefoot on the wooden floor, blinking into the light like she’s still figuring out where she is.
My bear surges up instantly.
Mine.
The word slams through my chest so hard I nearly swear out loud.
Torin’s head snaps toward me.
Of course he heard.
Alexandria stops when she sees us.
For a second, she doesn’t move.
I can almost hear her thoughts turning over:
Three very large men.
Remote mountain lodge.
Nowhere to go.
Her shoulders tighten. Then—just as quickly—she straightens.
“Good morning,” she says carefully.
“Morning,” Torin replies.
Alexandria looks between us, cautious.
“Still here, huh?” Orson says.
A flicker of surprise crosses her face. Then something sharper. “Looks that way.”
Alexandria’s gaze settles on me.
My bear slams against my ribs again. Every bit of her is alive to me—her scent, her sweet curves, her smart, sexy mouth.
Every instinct pulling me toward her.
I grab the coffee pot before I do something crazy like haul her over my shoulder and carry her back to bed.
“Coffee?” I say. My voice comes out rough.
“Please,” she says, and I wonder how it’ll sound when she’s calling my name with that same desperation.
She accepts the mug and splutters. Then she puffs her cheeks out. “Not quite guesthouse quality.”
My throat tightens. “You heard our conversation?”
She looks between us, a pretty eyebrow raised. “At least one of you was using your outdoor voice.”
I glare at Orson. “Unfortunately, some of us don’t have indoor voices.”
She stalks over to the kitchen table, deposits her mug and turns to face us, just as I tear my eyes away from her luscious behind.
She studies the three of us for a moment.
“I’m obviously not welcome here,” she says quietly. “The last thing I want is to stay somewhere I’m not wanted. So maybe we should contact my handlers and ask them to move me somewhere else.”
“Good idea—” Orson blurts.
The sound that leaves me isn’t human.
It rips out of my chest before I can stop it.
Everyone jumps.
“I make the decisions around here,” I thunder.
Alexandria doesn’t shrink though.
Instead, she straightens her spine.
And my desire for her shoots up another ten notches.
“You’re in a lot of danger, Alexandria,” I say more quietly. “And there’s nowhere in the entire country where you’ll be safer than here.”
Her gaze flickers toward Orson.
“He’s committed to protecting you too,” I add. “No matter his lack of manners.”
Orson grunts.
“It’s clan protocol.”
Alexandria drags a hand across her forehead. “I kept waking up last night,” she says. “Thinking about that guy coming for me. That look in his eyes when he said he would.”
Her throat works. “I’m not looking for a guesthouse setup. I just want to stay alive.”
She slumps into a chair. Her fists are clenched in front of her, so tight the knuckles go white.
“And I need to know my cat and my mom are okay. I don’t trust those cops to care.”
I nod.
“Maybe there’s a way I can check on them,” she continues. “I’ve got a friend who lives nearby.”
“That could work,” I say. “Do you have a number for her?”
“No.”
Her face falls.
“It’s in my phone. Everything is in my phone.”
She gives a helpless little laugh.
“You don’t realize how much your life lives inside that stupid brick until something like this happens.”
For a moment none of us say anything.
“Right before everything went sideways,” she adds, “I was walking to my car, wondering if I had milk in the fridge.”
The laugh that escapes her this time is sharp and brittle.
“And now here I am.”
I open my mouth to reassure her that the cops will keep their word. Then I close it again. I don’t trust that gray-haired asshole as far as I could throw him. I’m sure her mom and her cat are very low priority for him.
I’m not going to give her false hope. She deserves better than that.
Instead, I pace around the kitchen, clenching my fists to keep my anger in check.
“I didn’t leave any extra food for my cat. He must be starving,” she says quietly.
Orson exhales through his nose. “We can’t do anything about that.”
I direct a low warning growl at him.
If she hears it, she gives no sign. “So, I’m just supposed to sit here and not know?”
“You’re supposed to stay alive,” Orson replies.
Her mouth tightens. “Those two things are not mutually exclusive.”
Torin glances between them, then looks away again, like he’s trying not to get involved.
Alexandria leans forward, bracing her forearms on the table. “I’m not asking for much. Just someone to check on them. Make sure they’re okay.”
“They are,” he says. “Or they’re not. Us knowing doesn’t change it.”
Her jaw tightens. “It changes it for me.”
Silence again.
Torin shifts his weight, watching her now instead of me.
She looks between us, searching.
“I could go,” she says. “I could borrow your truck and go in disguise.”
“No.”
It comes out sharp.
She flinches, then steadies herself. “I’d be careful.”
“No,” I repeat.
“You said I’m in danger,” she says. “So let me do something about it.”
“Going back down there is exactly what they want.”
“I’m not just going to sit here and wait for news that might never come.”
“You are,” I say. “For now.”
Her eyes flash. “That’s not your call.”
“It is here.”
The words hang between us.
Orson lets out a short breath. “This is what I was talking about.”
I ignore him.
She’s shaking now. Trying not to show it.
Her hands flatten against the table, like she’s holding herself in place.
“I just need to know they’re okay,” she says, quieter. “That’s all.”
No one answers.
Orson looks away first.
Torin drags a hand over the back of his neck, restless, but he stays out of it.
I watch her.
She’s not letting this go.
If I shut it down, she’ll keep pushing. Or she’ll find another way around me.
Neither works.
I look past her toward the window, toward the trees beyond it. The same stretch of forest that’s kept us cut off from everything for years.
Behind me, I hear her draw a slow breath, like she’s about to say something else—something sharper.
I don’t let her.
“If something gets done,” I say, “it won’t be from here.”
The words land before I’ve fully decided to say them.
Orson’s head comes up. “No.”
I don’t look at him.
“It won’t be her,” I add.
Alexandria goes still.
Orson lets out a short, disbelieving breath. “You’re not serious.”
I meet his eyes now.
“Someone goes. They handle it. They come straight back.”
Orson studies me for a long second, then shakes his head. “That’s a full day out and back.”
“I know.”
“You’re opening us up for nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
He exhales, jaw working, then looks away again.
“Listen,” I say to Alexandria carefully. “Is there any reason why they’d be watching your friend?”
She’s quiet for a long time, staring at the wooden floorboards. I don’t interrupt. I sense the cogs of her brain turning over. She’s probably smarter than all of us put together.
“No,” she says at last. “We’re just workmates.”
“Okay. One of us can go talk to her. Explain what’s happening.”
The look she gives me is tinged with desperation. “Will you go?”
My beast surges at the thought.
Leave her?
Not a chance in hell.
“No,” I say. “One of the others will.”
My gaze settles on Torin.
He blinks. “Me?”
“There’s zero chance I’m trusting Orson to blend into a city crowd.”
Torin sighs. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
“Everyone says you’re charming,” I add.
“You’ll go?” Alexandria demands, eyes widening.
Torin shrugs.
“Looks like it.”
“Oh my God, thank you.”
Tears suddenly spill down her cheeks, and only then do I realize how tightly she’s been holding herself together.
“We’ll make sure they’re taken care of,” I tell her.
“Can he go soon?” she asks quickly.
“He’ll go this morning,” I say.
She takes a step toward me.
For one wild second I think she’s going to throw her arms around my neck.
But at the last moment she stops herself.
Her hands drop.
Instead, she just looks at me.
Grateful. Open. Completely unaware of the effect she’s having on me.
My fists clench more tightly.
Because if she touches me right now, I’m not sure I’d let her go.