The Boy Next Door-
Dedicated to Maddeandkatie for the beautiful cover on the side.
Not edited. Please forgive any mistakes, the spellcheck on my computer has problems.
Fifteen:
It started in the middle of the night. “It” being the most obnoxiously loud-and slightly terrifying-sound she had ever before heard. A sound so horrendous in volume that it immediately had her flashing back to all those monsters her seven year old self had been positive were lurking beneath her bed and closet. Monster she had, almost every night, forced her father to look for and that he always assured her never existed.
But this… this noise was exactly what she had always imagined those nonexistent monsters sounded like. And now they were invading her apartment!
The sound increased in volume, lasting on and on until Samara finally gave in on attempting to ignore it and rammed her elbow into Colton’s ribs. Bravery was not her strong point and she readily admitted that… now if she could just get Colton to wake up. Once, twice, three times she jabbed at him with her elbow before he finally snorted in her ear and wrapped his arms tighter around her middle…
And went right back to sleep.
“Colton,” she hissed, wiggling around in his hold-as much as he allowed her to, anyway-until she was able to roll over and face him. “Colton, wake up.” She poked his cheek and got no reaction. “Hello, anyone home?” She sang, tapping his forehead with her index finger… Nothing.
Fighting off a sigh of exasperation, she nearly managed to convince herself to investigate that damn noise herself when it grew louder and she cringed, , wondering what kind of horrible monsters that noise could belong to.
“Colton!”
The big sleeps-like-the-dead lug sighed, a dimple flashing grin curling his lips. “I have a nice ass?” He snickered. “No, you have a nice ass.” Then, as if to prove his point, both of his hands slid slowly down her back, grabbing onto the cheeks of her rear.
Although thoroughly entertained with his unconscious murmuring, she could no longer pretend to ignore that damn noise! Therefore, Samara did what little Leo had seemed to love doing to Colton and his younger brother Ian-What if the monsters had him?-the night before.
She grabbed his nose between her thumb and forefinger, squeezed and waited. She didn’t have wait very long, either.
His mouth and eyes snapped open simultaneously and he glared. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice came out high and nasally, but she was too distracted with that noise to laugh.
Instead, she put her finger to his lips. “Do you hear that?” Samara whispered, suddenly afraid she was losing her mind. Again.
“Yes, I-will you let go of my nose?” He smacked her fingers away himself, rubbing his nose. “Yes, I hear it. Is that why you-”
“What the hell is it?” And if he had heard it, how the hell had he managed to stay asleep!?
Colton rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing to worry about, trust me.” He laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes. With a yawn he said, “It’s just Ian snoring.”
“That’s a snore!?”
He was screwing with her, wasn’t he? Having a merry little laugh at the fact that she was losing what few marbles she still possessed. He had to be! Because there was no way such a horrible sound could be a snore.
“Yes,” he huffed. “Now quit screeching and go back to sleep.”
Sleep? He wanted her to sleep with his brother’s “snores” giving her chills. How could anyone sleep with that noise!? Too late, Samara realized she had grumbled that question aloud.
Colton snorted. “You think that’s bad? Never stay in the same house as my mother-sounds like mountains shifting. Swear to God, the whole house shakes.”
“That’s truly terrifying, really. But it’s not your mother’s snoring that’s keeping me awake…” She murmured and, thankfully, he seemed to take the hint.
“Gimme a minute.” He rolled away from her and off the bed, stomping like a child out into the hall. And, if she didn’t know any better, Samara would have sworn he snatched something off her dresser, but before she could give it another thought the horrible noise stopped, and did not start again.
“Thank God,” She sighed, relieved she could actually hear her own thoughts once more. By the time, Colton crawled back into the bed she was already half-asleep, curling into his embrace with a sleepy, “You start snoring like that and I’m shoving a pillow over your face.”
“I’m sure you’ll try.” Colton laughed, but she was already sleeping. Otherwise, he felt sure she would have rammed that elbow of hers into his ribs again. Not that it really bothered him all that much.
After so many years of waking up to on-or more-of his brother tossing his naked ass into the lake they’d found behind their parents’ home, a pillow covering his mouth and nose until he felt sure he would pass out or, God forbid, his father standing over him with a bucket of ice water to “help control your morning wood”, having Samara jamming her elbow into his side-he barely felt it at all.
What did bother him was his poor nose being abused again!
Well, that and Ian’s snoring because that truly was a horrible sound. However, waking his little brother to stop that noise was not an option. Once Ian woke and realized Colton had done the one thing he could think of that would keep Ian where Colton could keep an eye on him-the one he was certain would keep the dumb ass from going off and doing something incredibly stupid, Colton would never hear the end of it.
How else was he to be expected to keep an eye on Ian 24/7?
“Sit on him if you have to. Have him locked up for the night I don’t care. But do not let him out of your sight, Colt. We can’t afford for him to go off half cocked right now,” had been Noah’s only advice on the situation when Colton had called his older brother hours earlier.
That and staying out of the investigation himself, but how was he, of all people, supposed to look his little brother in the eyes and tell him to sit back and let someone else investigate the deaths of the woman he loved and their unborn child? When he knew firsthand what it felt like?
Did Noah actually think Ian would listen? Had Colton’s eldest brother lost his mind and failed to inform any of them? Did anyone really think Ian would not do everything in his power to-
Samara let out a pain riddled little whimper and he cringed, releasing the bruising grasp he hadn’t realized he had on her. Colton ran his thumb across the reddened area, marveling at the softness of her skin, but when he glanced up to make sure she was still sleeping… it wasn’t Samara’s face he saw.
Rather than the peachy porcelain skin, thick dark brown lashes fluttering as she dreamed or lips that were just a little too full and softer than he could have ever imagined; all Colton saw were the glassy eyes that had haunted so many of his nights. He saw the blood pooling on the ground beneath her dangling body, the barely visible mound of an innocent unborn child-
He leapt from the bed on silent feet, hands on his knees as he desperately sucked in air, forcing back the bile that rose to the back of his throat. Guilt pummeled his insides, making him feel about two inches tall as he crept quietly from the bedroom to the front door, intent on grabbing the jugs of homemade whiskey stored beneath his kitchen sink and showing his little brother the only way Colton knew of dealing with the pain, the guilt, and the loss he knew Ian had to be feeling.
Getting piss face drunk.
He snatched open the front door and stormed out into the hall, nearly plowing into his father in the process.
“Dad. What are you-”
With a small, saddened smile, Richard Frost held up the bottles Colton had been going in search of. “Figured you’d be coming after these.” The elder Frost’s brow furrowed and he peered around Colton into Samara’s apartment. “Where’s your brother?”
“I-uh… I may have handcuffed him to the bathroom sink.” Colton admitted sheepishly, confused as to why his father was here when he should have been making sure Delia didn’t start bathing the town in blood in her quest to find the ones responsible for her youngest son’s pain.
Richard crossed his eyes and shook his head. “I told your mother it was a bad idea to let my parents baby-sit you boys, but do you think the woman listens?” He huffed, pushing past Colton through the doorway. “Well?” He snapped when Colton merely stared at him. “Go and get your brother. After today I think you boys need a good drunk.”
And Colton couldn’t agree more.
She heard singing. Why did she hear singing? Who was singing?
Samara cringed when she woke, almost giving into the urge to roll over and hold her pillow over her ears to block out the sound that was, shockingly, worse than the snoring that had woken her earlier. How is that even possible?
It was impossible to tell exactly what song was being sung; the words too slurred for her to make out as the voices intermingled.
Could what they were doing even really be called singing? She really did not think so. It was more like screaming as they possibly could. And, since the spot where Colton had been laying was cold she had a feeling he was one of the persons butchering what song they thought they were singing.
Slipping from the comfort of her bed, Samara slid a robe over her pajamas before going in search of such awful “singing”. If she had known this is what she would awaken to she would have shoved that pill-Samara slid to a sudden and stunned halt at the sight that greeted her when she stepped into her living room.
Disbelief had her rubbing her eyes, blinking away the sleep still clouding her vision before she focused her gaze back on the two dancing, singing, naked men weaving their way around her furniture.
And if it wasn’t for the singing she would have turned right back around and went back to bed!
“My boys,” A low voice sighed from behind her. “They never could handle their drink.” She glanced back in time to see a frown flicker across his expression. “Then again, neither can I…”
Their low tolerance for alcohol obviously bothered the older man quite a bit, but what bothered Samara at the moment was their clothing-err lack thereof.
“Why are they naked?”
At that, Colton’s father could only shrug. “I merely supplied the whiskey, after that…” He shrugged again. “I don’t pretend to understand my children. I just accept the results of the DNA tests and try very hard to not smother them in their sleep.”
When Samara merely stared-actually it was more like an open mouthed gape-Richard smirked, but that smirk soon turned into a full blown, wickedly charming, complete-with-dimples grin and only when he murmured a laughing, “I’m kidding, hon,” did Samara realize she had a white knuckled grip on his arm.
Oh,” she cleared her throat, primly folding her arms in front of her. “I knew that.” She assured him, but his snicker had her flushing. “So, how do I…” She faltered, waving her hands helplessly at his still singing, dancing-and naked!-sons.
Somehow asking Colton’s father how to get his sons to “not be naked anymore” seemed like an odd request… Or maybe it was just her, but she doubted it.
“Put some clothes on?” Richard offered when her attention remained on Colton’s naked ass and laughing when she hastily nodded and averted her gaze. He slung an arm around her shoulders. “Darlin’, their mother and I have been trying to get all of our sons to put clothes on-and leave them on-since they were babes. And well, you see how that’s worked out.”
“Great. So what? We just let them dance around naked until they pass out?”
The older man nodded, ruffling her hair as he leaned back against the wall. “That’s the general idea.”
Fantastic.
“Can you at least get the singing to stop?” A migraine paled in comparison to the pounding at her temples. Her head felt like it was going to explode at any moment, but if their own father couldn’t get them to be quiet…
Richard nodded and put his fingers to his lips, issuing a shrill whistle that had Samara swaying where she stood, Richard’s arm still around her shoulders. Neither Colton nor Ian seemed to notice, though, until their father bellowed a growling, “Shut it!” releasing her to slap his hand on the wall, and thankfully they did.
One thing Samara had not counted on, though, was how their attentions stayed solely on her. When she was drunk, she had a hard time remembering how to walk let alone focusing all of her attention on one thing. How Colton and Ian managed, was a mystery she really wanted to figure out.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Colton grinned wolfishly, dimples flashing as he raked his eyes down her robe clad form. “You naked under there?” He wagged his eyebrows at her and sauntered-actually, it was more of an attempt, seeing as he ended up stubbing his toe on her coffee table… “Ow!” He cried out and kicked the table with the foot he had just stubbed, cursing and clutching his injured toes, bouncing on the other as he tried to keep himself upright.
It was certainly a disturbingly interesting sight to behold that was for sure, what with him being naked and all… Samara shuddered.
“She’s pretty.”
Samara reared back in surprise, suddenly staring up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and wondering just how he had crept so quickly and quietly up to her when his older brother couldn’t take a single step without injuring himself.
She was also curious about the strangely maternal urge to comfort the young man before her when she glimpsed the pain and the loss flickering in those deep blue eyes… Why did she have the urge to wrap her arms around him as tight as she could and not let go?
Ian grinned crookedly at her, dimples denting his cheeks and she groaned internally-Why does he have to have dimples?-but his next words confused her more than her need to hug him. “Prettier than Kara anyway.”
“Boy.” Richard growled at his youngest son, but the panicked look on his face was anything but menacing.
“Who?”
However, she was ignored as Ian leaned around her, letting out a low whistle. “Got a nice ass, too.” He winked.
Eyes wide, she shot Richard-the only sober male in the room-a helpless glance but the older man was too busy banging his head on the wall and studying the ceiling to be of any help. What she expected him to do she honestly couldn’t say, but how could she be expected to handle a drunken Colton and his drunk little brother when she still hadn’t figured out how to handle Colton when he was sober? These people were asking too much of her!
Ian sidled closer to her, slipping one arm around her back as his hand slide down to her-eek! “So, gorgeous, what’s your name?”
Gorgeous? A minute ago she was merely-Samara’s eyes narrowed on the sly glances Ian was discreetly trying to shoot his older brother who was… what in the world was he doing? Shaking her head, she tensed when Ian’s cupped her bottom similar to how Colton had hours earlier and she did what she’d witnessed Leanne doing to Jimmy on several occasions.
She grabbed his nipple and twisted.
“Ack!” he cried out, gaining his father’s attention but Richard took one look at Samara’s face and went back to studying the ceiling. “Lemme go, lemme go, lemme go!” He slapped at her hands; his no longer on her ass, but she twisted his nipple even more, refusing to relinquish her hold on one of the only parts of him she actually had a chance of injuring. She really did not want to grab the other part.
Keeping her voice low, she stepped closer to him. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it stops now. Understand?” And when he didn’t answer her… she reached for his other nipple.
“Okay, okay.” He squealed like a girl. “Uncle, I give. I’ll stop.” He covered his nipples with his hands once she released him and, sniffing, stalked over to Colton. Who had, while she was distracted with his grabby hands little brother, managed to pull on his jeans. Backwards. “Your girlfriend is mean,” Ian whined. “She tried to rip my nipple off.”
“What’d you do to her?” Colton huffed, planting his hands on his hips as he gave up trying to find the snap and zipper on his jeans.
“I was merely showing my appreciation for her amazing ass and-ow! What the hell was that for?!” Ian pouted, clutching his now bleeding nose.
Colton shook his finger at his younger brother. “You just keep your hands off of my ass.” His ass?
“Your ass?” How had her ass suddenly become his? Had she somehow entered an alternate universe where this entire situation was supposed to make sense? And, for that matter, why did she find this drunken insanity slightly endearing? It was ridiculous!
Almost as ridiculous as the slap-fight going on in her living room. They were grown men for crying out loud!
“What the hell did you give them?”
“Huh?” Richard blinked. “Oh. My granddaddy’s homemade whiskey. Dumbass over there must have gotten it from one of my brothers… no one else would be stupid enough to make it-for drinking anyway. A couple swigs of that and you’re flying to the moon.”
“And how much did these two drink?”
“Two bottles.”
“You just said they couldn’t handle their alcohol!” She hissed and Richard nodded, smiling in a way that had her knowing he thought she was losing it. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You let them drink two bottles of-”
“Yes, little miss, I did. Because after the day they had, I’d much rather have them running around drunk and naked than the alternative. And I don‘t appreciate the tone.” He snapped, the calm and collected demeanor she had always seen him demonstrate snapping like a twig.
“What are you talking about? I wasn’t trying to-”
“Delia may think you’re just a sweet little thing, but we both know the truth don’t we?” Colton’s father took one small, threatening step forward and her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as she backed away. “There’s blood on your hands, little miss. You know exactly what taking a life feels like, don’t you?” He backed her into the wall, placing his lips at her ear. “And, self defense or not, that feeling sticks with you, forever at the back of your mind, never letting you forget what you did.”
“How do you-” Her voice caught. “How do you know-”
Richard drew back just enough for Samara to see guilt flaring in his eyes, but his voice was still hard and unrelenting. “My boys and my wife mean the world to me. Do you honestly think I didn’t have you checked out the minute Delia started going on and on about you? And again when I realized Colton was interested in you?” He glanced over his shoulder at said, oblivious, son. “It wasn’t difficult to find out what you were forced to do.”
“I-”
Richard cut her off with a quick shake of his head. “You don’t owe me or anyone else, for that matter, an explanation. Your guilt is unfounded, but it’s there, isn’t it?” When she nodded mutely, he sighed and regretfully touched her cheek. “Then you should know I’ll do whatever necessary to keep my sons from having to deal with it. Even supplying them with enough whiskey to knock them on their sorry asses.” He gave a small smile and motioned with his head to his sons; still naked, but sprawled out unconscious-and snoring-on her floor.
Unbelievable.
“I owe you an apology.”
Samara jumped at the sound of his voice, glancing dubiously over her shoulder at the guilty expression on his face before turning back to the eggs frying in the skillet.
She had hoped Colton’s father would stay in the living room with his sons after he’d maneuvered them both onto her tiny couch, thankfully, after forcing them back into their jeans. She had simply refused to watch that and she had hastily retreated to her bedroom to change into actual clothes.
By the time she had finally gotten dressed and managed to talk herself into facing the older man again, Richard her begun cleaning the mess Colton and Ian had made of her living room.
That had been several hours ago. The sun had since started slowly creeping its way over the rolling hills and buildings dotting the landscape and Samara had hoped that at least one of the two dummies snoring on her couch would have been awake by now.
Unfortunately, she had never been very lucky…
Richard sighed at her silence. “I never should have brought up what happened with your father the way I did. It was wrong of me.” He fell silent again, as if waiting for her to reply… but what exactly did he expect her to say?
“I’m and unfeeling prat-Delia’s words, not mine.” He cracked a grin when she glanced at him in surprise. “My boys, however, are not. As much as they think they would be able to handle the aftermath of ending someone’s life-Del-er, I am not willing to take that chance.”
“That’s entirely understandable, really.” Samara assured him, placing the plate of eggs and bacon on the small table between them. “What I don’t understand is what that has to do with the two idiots drunk and unconscious on my couch.” She quirked an eyebrow at him.
“What did Colton tell you? Aside from the fact that we’re not exactly human?”
“He told me I’m his… mate,” She felt silly saying it aloud. “And not much else.”
Richard sat heavily in the chair at his side, waving for her to do the same before he spoke. “This complicates things.” She frowned but he went on before she could speak. “There are things he’ll have to tell you himself, it’s simply not my place-”
“Then tell me why you got them drunk.” He opened his mouth, the denial on the tip of his tongue, but Samara cut him off with an irritated shake of her head. “You said that after the day they had you would rather they be drunk than the alternative. Why? What happened? And don’t say I should ask Colton.” He had pretty much made sure she couldn’t.
He watched her closely for several moments before dragging a hand wearily across his face. “Ian’s…” he seemed to struggle for the right word. “Girlfriend-his pregnant girlfriend was found dead this morning.”
“Oh, God.” She put her fingers to her mouth, grateful she had sat down before he had started speaking. “Do they-”
“Know who did it? No, but we’re working on it.” And from the look on his face, he would not stop until he found the one responsible, but…
“What do you mean ‘we’? Shouldn’t the police be investigating-”
“The police can no more help us now than they could you. Having them involved would be more of a hindrance than anything. Whoever killed Cherise-they were shifters and they will be punished, but having the human police involved will make it harder for us to track them and if one of them should stumble across something they shouldn’t…” It would not be good.
The words hung unspoken in the air between them and Samara picked at the invisible lint on her shirtsleeve, debating whether to voice the question gnawing at her. He had said she needed to wait and talk to Colton, but Colton was asleep and she so desperately needed to know…
“She was important to him, wasn’t she? Kara.” She added when Richard frowned, chewing her lip nervously when he stayed silent for several long moments.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, he nodded the expression on his face entirely blank. “Yes, she was.”
Samara nodded. “What happened to her?” Something had to have happened to the woman, if the panic on Richard’s face when Ian had brought her up had been anything to go by.
However, Richard sighed, his reluctance apparent in his posture. “Samara-”
“Dad,” the sound of Colton’s voice had the two of them jumping. “Give us a minute, would you?” He gesture pointedly with his head for his father to leave the room. “Now,” he all but snarled when Richard remained in his seat.
The older man seemed to think about it for a second. “Nah, I think I’ll stay. I’m pretty comfortable where I am, but you go right ahead and talk. I don’t mind.” He smiled sweetly and when the ensuing stare down between father and son last for several minutes, Samara crossed her eyes and stood.
“For God’s sake, let’s just go outside. The snoring is giving me another headache anyway.” She walked out of the room to the front door, but was forced to stomp back when she realized Colton was still glaring down at his father. She grabbed his arm and pulled, but it was like trying to move a moment. Therefore, she changed her tactic; stomping on the toes he had stubbed on her coffee table and pulling him to the door once he was distracted.
Somehow, she managed to drag him all the way over to the front door without a word of complaint.
She snatched open the door and stepped head first into the chest of a man battered and bruised, his big, meaty fist raised to knock. An apology on her lips, Samara gripped his arms to steady herself and glanced up, frowning when she glimpsed his face. She knew him. How did she know him?
Before she could place a name to his face, though, Colton-who had still been glaring at the back of his father’s head when she had nearly given herself a concussion on this guy’s chest-shoved her behind him with a snarl, shoving the stranger father into the hall with his free hand.
“What the hell are you doing here, Pearce?” Colton growled dangerously at the man, seemingly oblivious to the three other men standing just behind him.
Pearce straightened his jacket, brushing off the leather as though Colton had dirtied it before he answered. “We’re here about Cherise.” An ugly smirk distorted his face. “Surely, you knew we’d be stopping by eventually, Colt.”
“Ian’s sleeping. So you can come back later. Tomorrow maybe. Or never.” He muttered under his breath, his hand clenched tightly around her wrist to keep her in place.
Pearce laughed harshly, shaking his golden blonde head. “Don’t play stupid, now Colt. You know we aren’t here for Ian.” That golden head tilted to the side. “Or maybe you really are just that stupid.”
“What the fuck are you getting at here, Pearce?” His grasp had turned bruising now, but she kept her mouth shut, too confused by the conversation going on around her to notice or care.
Pearce sighed dramatically, a condescending twist to his lips making Samara want to kick his teeth in. “There are just a few too many similarities between Kara and Cherise’s deaths. You being one of them and you know we just don’t believe in coincidences.”
One of the men standing behind Pearce smirked and said, “So, why don’t you be a good little bitch and come along quietly.”
Rather than reacting the way she expected him to-i. e. snarling and smashing their faces in-Colton released her wrist and stepped out into the hall without saying a word.
“Colton,” she reached for his arm but stopped when he shook his head, holding his hand up to silence her.
“This is Kara’s replacement, then?” Pearce looked her over. “You could have at least chosen someone who could defend herself. What’d you do, pull her off the school yard?” The four men laughed either not noticing-or not caring-the suddenly tense set of Colton’s shoulders and the way he abruptly seemed to loom even bigger in front of her. Of course, Samara wasn’t paying much attention to that herself.
“Fuck off,” she sneered.
“Got a mouth on her, though.” Another man, witch a scar running from his hairline to his jaw, mused softly. “Obviously they haven’t been together long.” He leered at her from over Colton’s shoulder. “If you’re having trouble controlling her mouth, send her my way. I can put it to good use.”
Good God, she wanted to hit him, all of them, so badly her fingers itched for it. But, she knew she would only end up hurting herself if she did. Didn’t mean Colton had the same problem.
He rolled shoulders that she swore kept growing larger and cracked his neck, moving faster than she would have thought humanly possible.
Wrapping one hand around Pearce’s throat, Colton tossed him into the two other men, grabbing handfuls of the scarred man’s collar before anyone else could even blink. The other man dug clawed fingertips into Colton’s forearms, attempting to pull him loose, but Colton’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, dazing him as his head snapped straight back.
Pearce and the other two men steadied themselves, teeth bared in identical snarls as their bodies tensed to attack. Samara panicked, glancing fearfully around for someway to help Colton. But, what exactly could she do? She’d only end up being a hindrance if anything-
The ‘crack’ of a body slamming into the wall stopped them all mid-movement, the limp body sliding stiffly to the floor, blood smearing along the beige wallpaper as it went.
Eyes she’d had so many dreams-and nightmares-about glared at her from beneath unruly curls of hair that had gotten longer, thicker, in the few seconds since he had been standing before her. The specks of gold in his irises grew brighter, enveloping the green completely until his pupils dilated and the blackness slowly spread out, overtaking the canvas that was his eyes entirely. Those black orbs slanted to the three men cautiously inching their way closer to their fallen friend and his lips pulled back from his teeth in a silent snarl.
“Go inside.” The words were growled, so garbled as he spit them out from between clenched and elongated teeth that it took her a second to comprehend what he said.
When she did, she shook her head, glancing briefly over her shoulder. Where was his father? Why had he not made his presence in her apartment known? And, more importantly, why was he allowing Colton to remain outnumbered?
“Samara,” her eyes shot back to Colton but he was no longer looking at her, instead watching the men silently studying the bleeding man on the floor. “Get your ass inside, now.” When she remained unmoved, he shot her a dark, pleading glance. “Please.”
“But-”
Pearce’s attention switched from Colton to her, sidling his crouched body toward her, meaty fingers clenching at his side as his lean body tensed. Too late, she read the intent in his eyes.
Samara back away, but even she knew her reflexes were not fast enough to evade him when Pearce lunged for her, his two remaining lackeys jumping for Colton as a distraction. Stumbling over her own two feet in fright, she readied herself for the consequences of not doing as she had been told when she had been told to do it. Stealing herself against her fear of the man intent on using her to bring Colton to heel…
But an arm hooked around her waist from behind, yanking her back into her apartment. The last thing she saw was the stark relief on Colton’s face when he was wrestled to the ground, Pearce’s hands grasping at air, before the door was slammed and locked, the thud of a body bouncing off it punctuating the slam.
A startled shriek built in her throat of its own volition but a hand clamped over her lips and she was turned, a man she knew she should probably remember standing between her and the sounds of a fight that had her cringing from the other side of the door. Flesh met flesh, snarls and growls she had heard almost nightly in her sleep echoed off the walls and something akin to a lion’s roar had her shaking in the arms that held her. Until she was abruptly shoved into another pair of arms, that is.
“Get off me!” She struggled, futilely, kicking and squirming as best she could but the one now holding her didn’t budge an inch. “Bastard!” And, of course, she was ignored.
“You keep her in here,” the man-Griffin was it?-snapped at the person holding her off the floor, tilting his head to the side when there was a grunt and things suddenly went deathly quiet. “From the sounds of things they’re taking him to the elevator-”
“Does that mean I get to cut the power?” The man holding her bounced eagerly as he spoke. She glanced up at the familiar voice but the blonde hair of the brother Colton had talked into fixing the door she was being kept away from tickled her nose and she sneezed. Heh. Oops.
Silence reigned for several long moments before Mac dropped her to the ground, one hand swiping at the mucus and spittle that had landed on his hair and chin. Horrified green eyes turned on her.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Someone snorted and before she knew it, the five men standing in her living room were howling with laughter. Mac, on the other hand…
“It’s not funny!” He bellowed. “What if she’s got a disease?”
Normally she would have been a bit upset over that one but all her mind could focus on in that moment was that these morons were standing around laughing when Colton was being carted off to God only knew where. And where they hell had they come from anyway!
“Is now really the best time for this?” How could they be so unconcerned? Did they not care that Colton was being taken?
Griffin was the first to sober, scowling at his brothers until they fell silent as well. “She’s right. We need to make sure they don’t get Colt to Pride Territory.”
“Thought Pop and Noah were takin’ care of their mode of transportation?” Steel gray eyes glinting through inky black lashes, the voice that was nothing more than a growl came from a man who seemed as harmless as Samara knew herself to be.
Griffin nodded. “They are, but that doesn’t mean Pearce isn’t prepared for that possibility. He’s not that stupid. He remembers what happened the first time he came after Colton. I wouldn’t put it past him to have another vehicle waiting.” He flipped the lock and opened the door, peering into the hall. “You three stay up here with Samara just in case bozo out there doesn’t leave quietly when he wakes up. She is your main concern, alright?” He nodded to Ian and the two men standing on either side of him. “Sax, you and Mac go back through the parking lot, if they manage to get Colton on the road, stay on their asses and don’t let them get past the borderline.”
“Griff, this is my-” Ian stepped forward but his older brother cut him off with a shake of his head.
“I’m gonna go call Anita, see if she knows what her mate’s been up to and I’ll meet up with Noah and Pop. If they manage to get Colt-”
“Noah will call. We know what to do with her if that happens.” Ian nodded, looking nothing like the young man who had been dancing naked around her living room hours before.
Without a backward glance, Griffin disappeared into the hall, shutting the door silently behind him.
“I’m Cullen,“ the man standing on Ian’s right side of Ian smiled charmingly. “That’s Luca.“ The man on the right gave a short nod but Samara’s attention was drawn inexplicably to Sax and a still seething Mac as they walked-and stomped in Mac’s case-to the window leading to the fire escape, stepped out onto the metal stairs and jumped.
“Oh my God! He just-they just-”
“Hey,” Cullen elbowed Ian in the ribs. “What’s wrong with her?”
The three men watched as Samara rushed to the window and leaned out, expecting to see the bloody remains of two of Colton’s brothers splattered on the pavement below but there were no bodies, no blood, no signs at all that two men had just jumped from a fourth story window.
I need to sit down. Or hurl…. Maybe both.
Ian shrugged when she slid slowly to the floor. “How the hell should I know? I don’t even know how the hell I got here!”
“You don’t think she actually is diseased, do you?” Luca asked lowly.
After a moment of watching her closely, all three simultaneously took one giant step back.
They broke his nose but that was okay. He was pretty sure Malachi’s skull fractured upon impact when Colton had thrown the other shifter into that wall. Who knew it was so sturdy? Send Samara his way, huh? He would rip the fucker’s throat out with his teeth first. Maybe borrow one of Ma’s nasty looking knives so he cut the asshole’s dick off and shove it down his throat until he choked to death on it. After, of course, the other male begged for his life.
Lord boy, you are so your momma’s son. The familiar sigh rippled through his mind right around the time Pearce and his cohorts tossed him inside the elevator car. His shoulder popped out of socket when he bounced off the wall and his ribs felt as though one more kick would break them. Damn it, healing from a punctured lung was not how he saw the day going when he had awoken that morning.
“Hurry it up, bastard heals too damn fast.” Pearce fished a syringe out of his jacket’s inside pocket, jamming the needle into Colton’s neck. “Sleep tight, freak.” He sneered but the sneer dropped when Colton popped him in the jaw. “Son of a bitch!”
His arms were jerked behind his back and he smothered a grunt, his shoulder screaming in protest of the movement. Handcuffs were latched onto his wrists, which seemed a bit like over kill to him given the sedative they had injected him with. He could already feel it working in the sluggish beat of his heart, the slowed rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins but Colton knew it would not last as long as they hoped.
Maybe that was why they had handcuffed him. Maybe Pearce had finally figured out why the lion inside him hated Colton so damn much.
Possible, but unlikely. The Elders didn’t even know the truth of the Frost bloodline, how could this dumbass?
Pearce crouched before him, fisted a hand in Colton’s hair and jerked until he had no choice but to stare into the bastard’s still bruised face. The sight of those bruises and the split lip had Colton smirking. “Yeah, laugh all you want now, little puppy. You won’t be laughing when we’re done with you.” Meaty sausage fingers gripped his nose, snapping it back into place and he couldn’t swallow the snarl the action caused. “What’s the matter, little puppy, your nose hurt?” With a smirk of his own, Pearce shoved Colton’s shoulder back into place as well. “Can’t have you shifting to heal it yourself before we get out of here, now can we?”
“Fuck you.”
“Nah,” Pearce sighed sadly. “You’re just not my type. Your pretty little brunette just might be though.” Colton jerked in an attempted lunge but the sedative was still working its way through his system, limiting his movements. Pearce laughed.
“Anita know about your extra curricular activities?” He smelled of several different females, not one of them the mate Colton knew loved Pearce despite his many faults.
Pearce shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes told an entirely different story. “What Anita don’t know won’t hurt her.”
One of his goons snorted. “More like it won’t hurt you.”
“Don’t you have a phone call to be making?” Pearce snapped and the man’s laughter died quickly as he dug out his phone and dialed.
After a moment of silence, he cursed and hung up, dialing another number with the same result. “We got a problem. Jim and Chris aren’t answering their phones.”
“Damn it,” Pearce paced the length of the elevator car. “You couldn’t just come along quietly, could you? You had to involve your brothers.” He glared and pulled his own phone from his pocket but it rang before he could do anything else. “Fuckin’ tattle tales,” he scowled. “Hey, ‘Nita baby. What’s-”
“What the hell do you think your doing, Pearce?” The calm and collected voice of Pearce’s mate and Alpha Female, Anita, rang crystal clear through the phone.
“I’m doing what needs to be done. I thought-”
“You thought what? That you would punish an innocent man because he allowed you to make a fool of yourself 11 years ago. Are you that set on revenge? Do you even realize the problems this could cause for the Pride? Are you trying to start a war?”
“He’s not nearly as innocent as you-” The muted chime of the elevator as it reached the ground floor had Colton tensing, flexing his fingers against the sedative.
He needed to get out of these cuffs and the cold sweat on his forehead proved that the sedative had worked its way through his system. If they had given him a higher dosage, it may have lasted longer but Pearce had given him what worked with a normal wolf shifter. Too bad Colton was not a normal wolf shifter.
Pearce’s goons pulled him to his feet, shoving him out of the car to give their Alpha the illusion of privacy to argue with his female but Colton could still hear every word that was said.
“I don’t care if he’s Satan himself. Until we have solid, undeniable proof you will not lay another hand on Colton Frost without my say so! Do you understand me?”
“Anita-”
“I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Do. You. Understand?” Her voice lowered to a deadly purr. “If I find out you go after Colton, Ian, or any of the Frosts or their mates, I will personally hand you over to Delia myself. Got it?”
The two males who were, in their minds, holding Colton upright, fidgeted nervously. Clearly, their Alpha Male had failed to mention they were acting without Anita’s knowledge and permission. The Pride dynamic continued to confuse the hell out of him. Lion Alpha’s couldn’t even take a piss without their Female’s knowing; Alpha Females always had the final say. Strange, but the females themselves were usually much saner than their male counterparts were.
Pearce turned his back and Colton cracked his neck, jumping at the opportunity to save his own ass before his brothers did it for him. God knew he would never hear the end of it if he had to be rescued from Pearce and two of his brick dumb followers.
Briefly, he debated his options, decided on the easiest bloodiest course of action and gave in to the animal raging within. The fact that they had dared to threaten his mate the only thought on his mind.
True, he had not yet marked Samara as his own. Even truer, there were still things he needed to-and by Shifter Law could not-tell her, yet. But none of that mattered.
Pearce and his puppets had attempted to place Samara in the middle of something she had absolutely nothing to do with. Yes, Lion shifters were all idiots but Colton had seen the look in their eyes. They’d done it to purposely antagonize him, to get the reaction they thought they wanted from him. They really had no one to blame but themselves.
Colton could not very well be held accountable for his actions. He was, after all, a Frost. Most shifters were smart enough to keep their distance from his family but, as he’d said, Lions were idiots.
The handcuffs, designed specifically with shifters in mind, snapped like a twig when he pulled his hand farther and farther apart. The sound of metal snapping had Pearce tensing but it was the shifters holding onto the arms they assumed Colton would not be able to use that reacted first.
Was it wrong that he enjoyed the fresh scent of fear tickling his nostrils? Most likely. Did he care enough to let them get away when they tried to run? Not even close.
What do you think?
Wasn't really as long as I would have liked, but I need more time to figure out if I'm gonna put the actual fight itself in or just the aftermath. Fight scenes are new territory for me so I need a few days to figure it out and I promised I'd post something by Sunday. So, hopefully this is long enough for now.
I do want to apologize for not updating anything in so long but my computer got a virus-even though the stupid thing is supposed to be protected-and things with family started getting... complicated and then I lose my job. Yeah, 2013 was not a very good year for me. Hope you all can understand.