Dogfight (Alpha MC: The McKinnon Brothers Book 1) (12 page)

Leaving her hair wet and tangled down her back, Casey padded barefoot into the kitchen where Connor was dishing up spaghetti and buttered bread. He handed her a plate. It smelled divine. She sat at the table, and Connor joined, handing her a bottle of some craft beer. She sipped it, tasting oak and bourbon.

She looked over the plate in front of her and cocked an eyebrow. “No meatballs?”

He twirled spaghetti onto his fork. “You don’t eat meat.”

“You do.”

“I’m fine.” He slurped the spaghetti up, sauce collecting on his lips before he licked it off. Casey dropped her eyes to her food.

“You eat someone on the way back?” she joked and could have kicked herself.

Connor lifted his eyes. “No.”

Casey shut her mouth as he returned to his meal. She took a piece of buttered bread and piled it with spaghetti. She found Connor watching her as she took a bite of the messy sandwich, amusement in his eyes.

“What?” she said, her mouth full.

He shook his head. “Nothing. That’s just how my mom eats her spaghetti. Taught us. I thought we were the only ones.”

She frowned and swallowed the bite. “I’m pretty sure everyone eats spaghetti this way.”

“We were sort of sheltered,” he grinned. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”

“I figured you were. From what I found, your pack is pretty tight.”

“Very.” He said, gravely. “No one alive knows what we are.”

“No one alive?”

“I was supposed to kill Frankie anyway for the dogfighting, but now that he knows about me, I have no choice. The alphas won’t let him live even if I fail.” His eyes found hers. She had stopped eating.

“You have to kill anyone who knows?” she said, her voice small.

Connor nodded slowly, his eyes holding hers. Her stomach was rioting against the spaghetti. She knew what he was.

He blinked and took another bite. “When you’re done eating, if you want, the beach is hidden in a bay. You can swim without being seen.”

She stared at him. Was he going to drown her where no one could see it happening?

He took his last bite, wiping up the remaining sauce with his bread, and stood.

“I’m going to shower. Just don’t swim too far out; the main beach is on the other side of the outcrop of rock.” He stared at her hard, and finally she understood. She nodded, and he dumped his plate in the sink, before stalking to the bathroom.

Casey waited until she could hear the shower running, and then slipped from the house. Her bare feet moved easily over the roots and grass and then the sand as the trees gave way to open beach. The sun was behind her, shimmering on the water. The beach was small, the rocky outcrop high enough to hide them from the ocean. Waves crashed against it, but lapped peacefully at her feet.

This must have been a wonderful place to grow up, she thought. She imagined three young boys climbing the rocks and jumping into the little bay. They wouldn’t have to fear anything like sharks, not with their senses and strength. And then she thought about sharks in the water and she froze, her feet under the cool surface, the sun warm on her back.

Trying to talk herself into getting in the water only made her feet more stubborn.
Come on, Casey
, she thought, risk getting eaten by a shark, or stay and definitely be killed by a wolf. But if he was going to kill her for knowing what he was, why hadn’t he done so? And what good would running do if his pack was just going to kill her anyway? Even if he failed, he’d said. And if the pack didn’t find her, somehow, eventually Frankie would.

No matter what she did, she was dead.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Connor stepped out of the shower. He’d used the soap begrudgingly, knowing she had used it on her body. If she was as smart as he thought she was, she had taken his hint and swam the fuck away from him.

He had come up with this idea when he was shopping for supplies, while also deciding that if she ran while he was out, he would let her go. If she scaled the outcrop of rocks and dropped into the ocean on the other side, she could swim to the main beach and get the hell out of there. That way he didn’t have to kill her, and he didn’t have to lie to the alphas when he told them she escaped. He just hoped he could convince them that she wasn’t a threat.

Connor pulled on his jeans, leaving them unbuttoned, and went to the window. He peered through the trees.

“Fucking idiot,” he muttered.

He stomped outside shirtless. Casey stood on the beach, her feet in the water, as the sun began to fall in the sky. If she wasn’t smart enough to take his glaring hint, then it was out of his hands. This woman had been nothing but trouble since he met her. He shoved through the trees and stormed down the beach.

He would make it quick. No pain. She wouldn’t even know it was coming. Just sneak up, grab her head, and snap her neck. Over and done. Easy.

Reaching for her, he saw his hand shaking a little. He slid it slid beneath her jaw, the other hand cradling the back of her head. Casey sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned back against him. He saw the tear streaks down her cheeks, felt her heart beating fast, clinging to life. He smelled no fear, only sadness.

He held her against him, his hands around her head, ready to end her life.

“Why didn’t you go?” he whispered in to her ear.

“Sharks,” came her shaky reply. “If I’m going to be killed, I’d rather it be fast and painless.”

Connor closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against her hair. She smelled like shampoo and warm, salty air.

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” he growled, but whether to her or himself he didn’t know. And then he turned her face toward his and kissed her. A sob tore through her and she faced him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Connor deepened the kiss, sucking her tongue into his mouth. She whimpered and pressed against him.

Wrapping his hands under her ass, he lifted her and walked them back inside the little house. He broke the kiss long enough to drop her on the bed, yank off her pants and his while she pulled her shirt over her head, and then he climbed between her legs, pulling them wide, and buried himself inside her.

He groaned at the sweetness of it. She was wet and ready and gave a little cry when he pushed deeper.

The knowledge that the alphas were going to beat him and kill her drove him crazy with need. He needed to take her as much as he could. He needed to give her everything before it was too late. He needed to end her life quickly, while she was getting happily fucked, end it before the alphas tortured her to find out if she told anyone.

He lifted his head, breaking the kiss, and stared down into her eyes. They were bright in the dying light, bright and sad and lost.

Moving his hips, pushing deeper with each thrust, he put a hand on her throat, his thumb pressing the fragile larynx, the bruises darkening the soft skin. Her eyes widened, and then, maybe in an attempt to stop him, she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper.

It worked. He hissed in her ear, slamming into her, and she cried out. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t kill her. But he could take her.

Braced on his elbows, Connor moved faster, watching as her orgasm crashed over her, twisting her face, tightening her body. She arched beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders. He couldn’t help it, normally he was good at controlling his shift, but right then as her body went limp, shuddering with release, his fangs slid out.

She saw them, but didn’t cower. Instead she reached up as he moved inside her, and touched his cheek, her thumb grazing the sharp points.

His release hit him hard. Tensing, his elbows barely holding him up, he spilled himself inside her, slowing, and then panting into her neck. Slowly, he lifted his head and peered into her eyes. She stared into his, and cupped his face in her hands.

That was it, he decided, when the alphas came to execute her they wouldn’t find either of them alive.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Casey woke feeling sore all over, especially between her legs. Remembering the night before, Casey smiled into her pillow, the sun warm on her skin.

After their first go, Connor had carried her out to the beach, naked, and walked into the water until it was over their heads. Casey had tried to get back to the sand, but he held her, floating in the dark, the water black in the moonlight. He swam them to the rocky outcrop, sat her on a ledge, and put his mouth between her legs.

She’d held on to the rocks over her head, her legs spread wide for him as his tongue dipped in and out, sliding up to her clit. His fangs flashed in the moonlight and she came hard, crying out, pressing against his mouth.

He’d pulled her back into the water, pushing himself inside her, fucking her against the rocks, and a new orgasm built as the water lapped around them.

They’d gone inside, wrapped in blankets, and ate more spaghetti, cold by then, but they only meant to revive themselves enough to get back at it. And they did, running a hot bath, Connor sitting in the tub. Casey ran her hands over the tattoos on his chest; wolves, stars, words, it was all beautiful. She knelt between his legs, pulling his hard cock out of the water.

She was right, she wouldn’t mind it if it was Connor. She slid her lips over the head, swirled her tongue, and dragged her teeth over and over until he pulled free, lifted her by the hips, and sank her down onto him, pushing deep inside.

They came together, his hands on her breasts, his seed spilling into her.

The thought passed through her mind that she could end up pregnant, but then she wasn’t going to live that long.

With that thought Casey opened her eyes.

Sunlight poured through the open windows. It was still low on the horizon, but bright and warm. Connor wasn’t in bed. She had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning with his arm draped over her shoulders, their legs entwined.

Except for the crash of waves outside, the house was silent.

Casey sat up, her body aching in the sweetest possible way. On Connor’s pillow was a note. Dread filled her as she opened the note and read.

I have something to take care of. Stay at the house. Be back by tonight. – CM

She breathed a sigh of relief. He was coming back. She was still alive, and he was coming back. He wouldn’t have left a note like this if he still planned to kill her, would he? Tossing off her blanket, Casey padded naked into the living room and got her phone from her bag. She was going to call Connor, she’d gotten his number in her background search of him, but she had a text waiting.

From Frankie.

It had come in not five minutes ago. She opened the text and dropped the phone. Her lungs froze. Scrambling, she knelt and stared at the image on the screen of Frankie with a chain in his hand, and Connor kneeling before him, the other end of the chain around his throat, angry red welts swelled up where the chain was wrapped.

Another text vibrated the phone, and Casey screamed, almost dropping it a second time. The words blurred and cleared as she blinked the wetness from her eyes.

Like my new dog? Trade him for you, bitch.

God damned Connor. What the hell was he doing there?

Wasting no more time, Casey threw on the jeans from last night and a gray tee shirt. She stuck her feet in the boots Connor had grabbed for her, and ran to the door. The plan was to get to town, steal a car, and drive as fast as she could without getting pulled over. She had been asleep no more than four hours, which meant Connor had left her as soon as she passed out and, as fast as he rode, got to Frankie’s in less time than that.

If she found a good car, she could make it in three hours. What she would do when she got there, she hadn’t figured out. She didn’t think Frankie was an honorable type of guy and would probably kill them both anyway. But she would think of something on the way.

She yanked the front door open and froze.

Standing before her were two very tall men in leather jackets. One had a mass of curly hair.

Aidan.

Had the MC sent Connor’s brothers to kill her? Instinct took over and she turned and ran. She didn’t get far. One of them grabbed her by the hair, pulled her back, and slammed her against the wall. A hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing her bruised neck.

She pulled on the other brother’s hand, Liam, and kicked her feet where they hung.

“Frankie has Connor,” she sputtered, her words barely audible.

Aidan put a hand on Liam’s forearm, and the younger man set her feet back on the ground, but he kept his hand around her throat.

“How do we know you’re not lying?” Liam snarled. Apparently he was one of those shifters who didn’t like humans. Or maybe just her.

She handed him her phone. Aidan took it and the brothers’ faces paled. They exchanged a look, and then Liam turned his eyes on her. All three brothers had the same eyes; blue-green and bright. Same brown hair, too, but where Connor kept his thin on the sides and long on top, Aidan had a jumble of soft curls, and Liam’s hair was a wild mess, swooping off in different directions. All three were gorgeous.