Chapter Four
I'm an hour into my airtime when Lawrence shows up. I tried for the first little while after Dante left to do some class work that's due next week, but that only lasted for about two songs before I gave up. I haven't made it to the forty-five-minute mark before I'm already feeling that loneliness that he spoke of. Not because I'm necessarily missing people. I can sit in my small house for days without leaving or feeling uncomfortable, but that's my space and it's more closed in. This building is so open and new to me that it almost feels wrong. Plus, it doesn't help that I spent my morning with Saint, and it's still so fresh on my mind. Though, that's the very last thing I want to be thinking about while I'm sitting here alone. Saint had said that Lawrence would be here, but maybe he was mistaken, and his plan was for naught.
To cheer myself up, I tell the listeners that they're being treated to one of my favorites. After I push play on the list and the song starts, I realize what a huge mistake I just made. Though the song is referring to being misunderstood and internal struggles of wanting to break free from the norms of society, the reuse of the phrase psycho killer is in extremely poor taste for what we're facing right now. I promise myself to not use it again on air. Personally, sure. On air, never.
What's done is done, though, so whether or not I may have just doomed my disc jockey career, I decide to dance it off. Now, Darci Levine is the best dancer on campus...said no one, never. I flail my arms around and shake my hips back and forth, trying to loosen up the knots that seem to have taken root in my shoulders and back.
I close my eyes and enjoy the music until it stops. Thankfully, I've already got another one lined up and ready to go, but movement out of the corner of my eye jerks a squeaking noise from my chest as I back into my chair. I slam my hand against my racing heart as Lawrence tries to hide his smile by rubbing a finger across his lips.
"You just scared ten years off my life," I accuse him, moving to cross my arms over my chest.
"I'm sorry," he says in that deep voice, not looking it in the least.
I have to clear my throat and pretend I didn't know he was coming. "What are you doing here? This was supposed to be my first night by myself."
He shrugs and moves into the room to take the seat next to mine, subtly filling the room with his beta latte scent. "I told you that it can get lonely in here at night. Just wanted to swing by and check to see how you were doing."
I narrow my eyes playfully at him. "Are you sure you weren't sitting out in the parking lot for the past hour, waiting to come inside?"
Holding up his hands with a lopsided grin, he confesses, "You got me. I really did just want to stay close in case you needed something. Dante is a very ‘hands on’ and ‘throw you to the wolves’ kind of trainer. I didn't want you to feel like we just abandoned you after just a few hours learning the ropes."
"It's fairly simple," I remind him, taking my seat and spinning it to face him. I decide to let him off the hook since I'm not being fully honest knowing he was coming tonight. "I was starting to feel kind of weird being here by myself, though."
He nods. "I called Henry several times the first time I was here by myself. It gets quite boring sometimes. I was surprised that you applied for the position. Elated, but shocked to say the least."
"Why's that?" I ask, turning back to the computer and clicking the next couple songs before spinning back to him.
"Most omegas I've ever met don't like being alone for long periods of time," he states plainly.
"Met a lot of them, have you?" I ask with my stomach rolling at the thought.
His lips press into that thin line when he smiles, and this close, I get a good look at his hazel-colored eyes that squinch just a bit with it. "Not really, no. More what Henry's made me read than anything."
"So, your packmate likes to read?" I ask, his words putting my jealousy at ease.
He huffs out a short laugh. "I'd like to see someone try to stop him. He writes, too. He's a journalist for the city paper."
I like the way his expression morphs into the fondness as he speaks of him. "How long have you guys been together as a pack?"
Tapping his chin for a second, he says, "Banks and Keaton met at their firefighter academy and then later ran into Saint. Then along came Henry when he covered one of their fires and interviewed them for a piece that he was writing. His family just so happened to be long-time friends of my family. The pack offered me room and board when I started classes here, and we all mesh so well that I just never left."
This information opens so many avenues of questions that I don't know where to start. I do, however, know where not to start since I still need to pretend to not know Saint. "You're happy being in a pack with them? Weren't they all kind of strangers, though?"
"Aren't we all at some point?" he counters. "Sometimes you just click with people and know that you're where you're supposed to be."
Glancing up, we lock eyes and he grins. Suddenly, it's more than his pack. For a moment, I can see him talking about me. I clear my throat softly. "Banks and Keaton are firefighters?"
"That's right," he confirms. "Your every day, average smokey Joe heroes. You'll like them."
Not that I would like them but that I will like them. Like he's already got plans for us to meet in the future. He keeps going, completely oblivious to the point in which my brain stopped listening and got totally distracted. "You and Banks will be hilarious together. He's a lot like you are with the witty comebacks and teasing."
"How long have you been a pack?" I ask as I click to play another song, knowing I need to say a little something after this one.
His face scrunches up a bit as he thinks. "This'll be my third year with North U, so I've been with them for a little over two years now. They bought our pack house about three years before that, so it's been a minute. You'll have to come see the house sometime. You'll love it."
"Sure, that'd be fun," I reply, trying my best not to feel like I'm lying. I don't want it to bleed into my scent and give anything away since I'm not sure that would be acceptable in mine and Saint's position. Lines probably shouldn't be blurred while we're working this case together.
Luckily, the song ends, and I've got to speak to our listeners before lining up a few more songs for them. It cuts off our previous conversation as he praises me, "You're a natural at this. Like you were born to do it."
I debate for a second about telling him about my podcast. It's nothing to be ashamed of, but I don't like to brag about it, either. Deciding to go with my instincts, I confess it to him.
"Really?" he asks, genuinely surprised. "That's really cool actually. Saint would probably trip all over himself for that. He's into all of the true crime stuff." He stops and shrugs a shoulder. "Probably because he's a detective with our local department."
The subject matter I'd hoped to avoid has gone full three-sixty and come back to haunt me. We talk for the next several hours, making time pass by quicker than it seems. He tells me all about his pack mates and what he sees for himself in the future of being a radio personality or a doctor. He hasn't decided which yet.
I like the way he makes me laugh. Even in the smallest of ways like when he's not trying to. I focus on the music and listeners when I need to, but other than that, he has my full, undivided attention.
As our night starts winding down, he offhandedly comments, "I hope this doesn't come off the wrong way, but you smell different tonight. Almost like..."
His words run off into a pause before his expression morphs into confusion. "Saint?"
I'm not going to deny it if he's so plainly calling me out on it like this, but I don't think it's me he's talking to anymore. As tall as he is, he can see straight through the window to the front door. I, however, have to stand out of my seat to look out. Saint is standing at the front door with his hands in his pockets and back in his baseball hat.
"Damn," Lawrence says, standing and moving toward the door. "Sorry, he's probably here because I stood the pack up tonight."
I add two more songs to the playlist before quickly following him out into the room. I make it just in time to watch not just Saint, but three other guys come inside. The fact that I'm now in here with five practical strangers should make me nervous, and don't get me wrong, it does. However, not for the reasons it should. They have a calm sort of peace about them that makes me feel safe immediately.
"It was nice of you guys to come over here to get me, but—"
Lawrence gets cut short as Saint points at me and cuts him off. "Sorry, bro, but we're here for her, not you."
All eyes turn to me. Four practically identical expressions of confusion and one of humor. My heart rate picks up as a flush comes to my cheeks with all of their attention now on me. One look at Saint, though, has my lips tilting up in a smile. An action that he instantly mirrors.
He gives them about twenty seconds to stew on their thoughts before he tells them the truth. "Darci is my new partner. The department's newest civilian consultant. She smelled just like you this morning when we went for a ride. Figured I'd give you a little dose of payback for trying to skip out on drinks tonight."
"I forgive you, Saint, because it appears Lawrence was trying to keep Darci, here, to himself," one of the others tells Saint, teasing Lawrence and stepping forward to introduce himself. "I'm Banks, by the way."
I offer a short wave and a smile. "Hi."
Lawrence wakes up from his shock and introduces his other two pack mates before turning to me. "You concocted this plan with him? Here I was thinking we were getting to a level of trust."
He’s grinning as he says it, so I know not to take him seriously. Hiding my laugh behind my hand, I try to half-heartedly apologize, "I'm sorry. He said it'd be funny."
"The look on your face was priceless," Henry tells him with a smile.
I think I've got them down pretty quick. Not too hard when they're all so delicious to look at. Henry's hair is long like Lawrence's, but it's so dark that it looks black. He's built like him, too, on the skinny side, but shorter like Saint. Banks and Keaton are both stacked in the muscle department as I'd expect from firemen, having to carry all of their heavy equipment. They're both around the same height, but they're like night and day of each other. Banks has short, blond hair in a high-top cut with ice-blue eyes, whereas, Keaton's is brown, slightly longer on top, with sideburns. His light-brown eyes speak of kindness as he quietly takes in the exchanges of his pack.
"So, what time are you guys going to be done here?" Saint asks.
"Oh crap!" I exclaim, spinning on my heel and sprinting back into the studio. I shut the door behind me so they don't feel the need to be quiet on my behalf. Going to let silence fill the air and get fired my first night all because I got distracted by a couple of pretty faces. Luckily, the last song hasn't run its course yet. I made it just in time.
Waiting for the last note, I flip over to the microphone. "And that, my fellow North U comrades, means I'm out for the night. See you next Friday here on WPOQ. Don't do anything spooky with the rest of your weekend. Or do."
Clicking the mic back off, I find the playlist that I was shown to use as the filler until Dante gets here in the morning. Once I make sure that it's playing, and it doesn't look like anything can go wrong, I grab my jacket off the back of my chair and my phone off the desk. Shutting off the lights, I pull the door closed behind me.
They're all exactly where I left them, making those nerves come back as they all turn to me again. I'm sure I look like a deer in the headlights since it's rendering me speechless.
Saint takes pity and saves me. "Ready to go?"
I consider backing out for a second. Using the old ‘got to wash my hair’ excuse. Then Lawrence holds out his hand to me with that lopsided tug of his lips, and I know that I'm not going to. When I take it, he gives it a short squeeze of assurance, and I smile up at him. The rest of them turn and start walking toward the door, but I catch Henry glancing at our joined hands before he does the same. There's something oddly familiar about him. Seems to be happening a lot lately. Maybe I'm in some sort of déjà vu loophole or something.
"So, where are we going?" I ask once we're outside and walking toward the only two vehicles in the lot that belong to Lawrence and Saint.
"Just to grab a few beers and listen to people sing some karaoke," Lawrence answers.
Keaton slides in on my other side and bumps my shoulder with his. The scent of a warm campfire settles over me in the same way that Lawrence's latte does. He's a beta just like him. With all of them standing together, I wasn't able to pick out certain scents. They all just mesh so well together that it was difficult separating them in a small space.
"Lawrence, here, can belt out a good tune when he gets enough drinks in him," he tells me.
"That so?" I ask, casually turning my face to the man in question.
He shrugs. "Takes more than a few drinks."
"He's lying," Keaton whispers with a smile in his voice. Looking back to him, I find his brown eyes watching me, taking in every one of my features. "Doesn't take much. You should hear him in the shower."
I laugh, making a few heads turn our way. "And here I was told that Banks was the jokester."
Lawrence snorts softly. "Yeah, I forgot to mention that they both are. Keaton is a little less intense than Banks."
Keaton places a hand over his heart. "That was almost a compliment, Lawrence. I'm proud of you."
They both laugh and I can't help but join in. It's addicting. I let Lawrence lead us to his car since he’s still got my hand in his. Henry and Saint are already loading up in the front of the SUV, but Banks stops and looks toward Lawrence’s car.
He glances back at us. “Yeah, I’m riding with you guys.”
Lawrence shakes his head with his half smile, switching his attention to Keaton. “Guess you’re riding with us, too?”
His reply is an easy grin.
We load up in the car, and I get a full blast of Bank’s alpha scent as soon as the doors close around us. The only way I know how to describe it is the tropical tanning lotion that I use in the summertime when I’m attempting some kind of tan. It smells like pineapple and coconut and maybe a hint of banana thrown in. It gives me the warm and fuzzies inside, making me seriously miss summer like I never do. I’m an autumn girl, through and through. Banks may have just changed my mind about that. The three of them together is like sitting around a bonfire at the lake with a latte in hand, after laying out sun tanning all day. I can only imagine what it’d be like to have Saint’s sweet cinnamon in here with us, too. Which makes me curious as to what Henry smells like. If it’s anything like his packmates, it’s going to attract me like a moth to a flame like the rest of them.
Banks and Keaton talk non-stop on the way to the bar. Not just to me, either. They easily include all of us in conversation and keep it flowing. From what I’ve witnessed so far, they are the perfect balance to Lawrence’s quiet and Saint’s seriousness.
When we get to the bar, there seem to be a ton of cars in the parking lot. "Wow, this is a pretty popular place, huh?"
Banks chuckles and leans through the middle into the front seat. "Sometimes, but it's first responders’ appreciation night."
My face is turned toward him as he speaks and gives his eyebrows a quick couple raises. It makes me grin, and his eyes flick there before slowly working back up. I shouldn't because I just met him and all, but I have the strongest urge to kiss him. His scent surrounds me, making my stomach do flips again.
Lawrence clears his throat and brings us both back to the car where the other two are waiting for whatever that just was to end. Saint and Henry are already out of the SUV and are standing in front of the car looking in. Saint's hands are down in his pockets, and his cap is hiding his eyes. Henry’s expression says enough for both of them. A combination of curiosity and need.
A rush of blood goes straight to my cheeks as I fumble around trying to get out of my seatbelt and out the door. In my rush, I almost leave my small bag with my phone and ID on the floor. I grab it quickly and shut the door, moving to stand with Saint and Henry between them. l get my first good hint of the latter as I do. Books. Like, a new bookstore the moment you first walk in. The way that it presses against my skin, I know one hundred percent for sure that he's an alpha, too.
I'm saved from leaning into the relaxing feeling that his scent brings by us turning to walk inside with Banks and Keaton in the lead.
"Stay with us in here," Saint commands without using his bark. "It's busy and there are a lot of people in here."
"And you're gorgeous," Lawrence adds from behind us. "They'd be stupid not to try."
Banks stops a few steps from the door and spins on his heel. "They'd be stupid to try."
Someone please tell me why I get that giddy feeling in my belly again. It hits even lower still as he keeps his focus on me like he did in the car. And just like in the car, I feel like I'm frozen to the spot and can't move. He is the one who breaks the spell by flicking his gaze over to Saint and giving him one jerk of a nod.
Then he turns to where Keaton is now reaching, leaving me to look to Saint for answers. All I get is a thin-lipped smile. Okay, fine. Keep your secrets. He should know enough about me to know that I'm damn good at research and always get my answers.
Of course, all of that flies out of my head the moment we walk into the very crowded, very loud bar. There are people milling about everywhere. Some of them are sitting at the bar, arguing about sports that are playing on the televisions. Some are over playing pool with stacks of money on the table. There are a few standing tables spotted around, and they're crowded, too. Booths line the wall, and there are a few of those open. But Keaton leads us over to a bigger table on the side that sits between one row of booths and the bar.
Surprisingly, there isn't anyone sitting at it. For the place to be so full, the ambiance is actually nice. There are lit candles on all of the tables, and it's not rowdy. Majority of the people are all in some form of first responder clothing. Mostly t-shirts like Keaton and Banks are wearing. I'd say that has a lot to do with it.
The waitress comes over asking what we'll be having. We all order drinks except Lawrence and Saint because they're driving. When the drinking age went into legal battle two years ago, people saying that it wasn't right to be old enough to fight in a war for their country but not old enough to drink, it ultimately got moved back down to eighteen. Something my few friends in high school took advantage of. I never was a fan, except for a good glass of white wine, which is what I order. None of them judge me or even look at me funny like my friends used to.
It's easy fitting in with this pack. Except, of course, when the conversation turns to me and my life. In the midst of explaining that I'm not an only child, I almost tip my glass of wine over. I catch it, but the candle next to it isn't so lucky. My hand just barely grazes it, but it's enough to send it flopping over. The napkin sitting beside it instantly catches on fire. There's absolutely no panic at the table as Saint snaps a hand out to pick the candle back up just as Banks tosses his beer on the napkin. In a matter of half a second, the only evidence it even happened is a slightly singed napkin and Bank's empty cup.
Banks laughs and teases, "You're going to burn the place down."
I'm mortified, trying to apologize. Lawrence slides his hand on top of my thigh and gives it a reassuring squeeze. It calms me enough to make light of the situation. "Well, I guess it's a good thing we've got some pretty good-looking firemen here to save everyone from my clumsiness."
Banks leans his chair back on two legs and lightly elbows Keaton, "Hear that? She thinks we're good looking."
God help me, I don't know why I say it, but I do. "Who said I was talking about you guys?"
His chair slams back down, making my heart skip a beat. Or maybe it's because of how he's watching me like a mouse caught in a cat trap. They all burst out laughing, including Banks, but his gaze is possessive and says he'd love the challenge.
Feeling brazen now that the wine is kicking in, I lift an eyebrow at him, promising him one.
A loud cheer at the bar breaks the tension at the table, and I take the chance to escape. "Where's the restroom?"
"It's around the corner right there," Keaton offers, pointing to the back wall and starting to get out of his seat.
"Stay," I tell him, and then to multiple protests that begin. "It's literally within eyesight. I will survive twenty steps there and back."
Wihtout waiting for them to reply, I get up and leave. Once I'm done in the stall, I move to the sink to wash my hands. There's a tall woman with long, blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail at the one next to mine who smells like she's having more than wine and possibly been at it a while.
"Wow," she slurs, turning to face me as her nostrils flare. "You sure do smell pretty. What's a gorgeous unmated omega like you doing here tonight? You come with someone?"
"Yeah," I tell her, slightly nervous, having scented her alpha underneath the alcohol. I figure my best bet is throwing out names that she might know. "Saint Coffey. Banks and Keaton."
Her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open before she lets out a giggle that she tries to cover with her hand. "I'm sorry. You just caught me off guard. I didn't know their pack was looking to settle down. Even more surprised they let you come in here alone. They're known to be...uptight."
For my own reasons, I take personal offense to her speaking ill of their pack. I don't like it more than a simple slight. It makes me angry in a place deep down inside. "How about you mind your business and not worry about it."
I step around her and head for the door with her drunken giggles at my back. "I can see why they like you."
The encounter leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and unfortunately doesn't end there. As soon as I step out of the room, I run straight into another alpha. This one a man not wearing any discernible affiliate clothing.
He catches me with hands on my shoulders. "Woah there, filly."
"If you want to keep those hands, Ben, I suggest you remove them," a voice all but growls behind the man.
As he does as he's commanded and steps to the side, Henry comes into view, and I make a dash for him. He throws an arm around my shoulders, covering the scent the other alpha left behind.
"I'm sorry, Henry," the man apologizes. "No harm, no foul. We crashed into each other is all."
Henry motions with his chin toward the hall leading back out into the bar. Ben wastes no time at all rushing past us, giving us so much berth that he's hugging the wall.
"Sorry, Darci," Henry apologizes, running his hands across my shoulders again. "These are mostly good people. They just aren't used to having a perfuming omega under their noses while being intoxicated. Want to leave?"
I don't want to make them leave early and ruin the night, so I shake my head. "I'm fine. He surprised me is all."
"Better now?" he asks, continuing to rub my shoulders.
Taking in the concern in his emerald-green eyes, I nod slowly and whisper, "Much."
When he smiles, I swear it's almost worth it to risk it all. It almost appears that he's having the same internal struggle as his eyes flick down to my lips and back up again. Much like Banks's did in the car. It makes my heart pound heavy in my chest in expectation. Unfortunately, he saves us both as he finally steps back and holds out a hand for me to lead the way back to our table.
As soon as I sit down, Banks's nostrils flare, and he looks around the room. He shifts in his seat like he's about to rise until Henry's hand on his shoulder stops him. The whole experience has left me feeling like a lost little fish in a shiver full of sharks. So, what do I do? Order another glass of wine and then another. By the time I'm ready to order another, the guys are all back to normal, laughing and cutting up with each other, me joining in with them.
Saint shakes his head at the waitress when she asks if we need anything else, completely ignoring my raised hand. I don't argue with him, because he's put on his serious face. Reaching over, I squeeze his cheeks between my thumb and forefinger. "You should smile more. Makes you prettier."
At least that's what I think I say. I'm not sure, but the rest of his pack cracks up.
"Come on, Darci," he says, gently taking my hand and bringing us to standing. I teeter a bit, but he catches me by the elbow. Someone brushes by me, and I squint my eyes because I know him.
"I know you!" I tell him.
The man stops in his tracks and turns around.
"Morton," I call out, introducing him to the table. "This guy makes the best coffee."
"Are you good, Darci?" he asks, eyes dropping to my elbow which Saint is still holding onto.
I lose my balance and fall into Saint. I realize at the last minute that it's because he's tugged me softly toward him.
"I'm okay," I tell him. "These are my friends. Saint is taking me home now, I think."
Morton looks ready to fight if he has to. "You sure?"
"She said she's got a ride," Saint repeats with a growl in his voice.
I glance up at his face, because the sound does funny things to my belly. What were we talking about? Oh, Morton.
"I'm good," I tell Morton without taking my eyes off Saint. I can tell when he leaves, because Saint finally relaxes and glances down at me, his expression turning soft.
"Meet you at the house in a little while," he tells the others as we start heading for the door.
"You're a party pooper," I tease, making the others laugh as we walk out.