Saved by the Alphas

The monsters of Tracy’s past clawed at her shoulders, never allowing her a moment of true peace. Her nightmares—the horrors her life had been for so long—did quiet as she watched her daughter, Karen, swinging on the playset in the back of the omega group home where they lived.

Sure, she’d never thought she’d end up living in a place like that. She hadn’t grown up expecting to have a single room where she and her daughter slept in the same bed, where they ate their meals at a table full of other omegas and children who had no home.

And yet, she went to sleep without fear of one of her mate’s mood shifts. She closed her eyes and knew Karen wouldn’t waken to screaming, crying or the snap of flesh against flesh.

“Mom!” Karen rushed to the deck Tracy sat on, the little girl’s red hair tangled from her games. “When’s Sam coming?”

The question sent a lance of pain through Tracy’s chest. Just the name sprang the alpha’s face to her mind.

His black hair and tan skin, his lips always pulled into that reassuring smile. It haunted her sometimes, when she closed her eyes and recalled his sweet disposition.

She’d stayed with him for two weeks after the death of her mate, two weeks when she and Tracy had found some stability with the detective. He had gathered her into his arms when she’d cried as the ambulance had taken her mate’s body away, had sat up with Karen when she’d woken from a bad dream that first night.

“I don’t know.” Tracy ran her pencil over the paper before her, sketching the landscaped backyard. “He’s busy.”

That, and she’d moved out, despite him asking her to stay. When they’d stood by his front door, Karen already in the waiting car, Tracy had struggled to put into words why she had to leave.

‘Stay, Tracy.’ Sam had leaned his shoulder against the wall with the same ease he always had. He never looked put out, never ruffled. Instead, a kind smile was always on his full lips and his brown eyes sparkled with charm. ‘Karen’s happy here, and I have more than enough space. You’ll be cramped in one of those homes, and you won’t have my charming smile.’

‘I can’t.’ She’d rubbed her palms on her thighs, nerves running rampant through her as they always did with Sam near. His presence and his scent made her want to crawl the walls. She wanted more and yet it sparked a fear inside her she couldn’t ignore. She could never quite get a hold of herself around the alpha who had made it clear that he wanted her.

‘Why not? Just help me understand the problem. I like you two here,’ he’d admitted, voice low when she didn’t answer right away.

‘I’m not ready.’

‘I’m not asking you for anything.’

‘You will. I don’t have anything, and I need to take time for Karen and me.’

‘Take the time here.’ Sam had reached toward her, as though he’d wanted to take her wrist, to touch her, to cross the threshold he was always careful to keep.

Tracy had jerked backward, fear winning out. It always won out. It wasn’t Sam she was afraid of, but he was as good a stand-in as any for her demons.

He’d sighed and dropped his hand. A soft nod had ruffled his short hair, but he’d come no closer. ‘Okay. Look, you’ve got a place here, and you can call me anytime. Spend some time, work on yourself, and come back.’ He’d stared at her, as though he’d wanted an answer. When none had come, he’d curled his lips up on one side. ‘I can wait as long as you need me to.’

Karen pulled on Tracy’s hand, waking her from the memory, from the last time she’d seen Sam a month before.

“What?”

“Can we go see him? He said he’d take me for ice cream.”

Tracy set her pencil down and tried to keep a steady face. Karen didn’t need to see the longing there. “I don’t know, sweetheart. It’s getting late. Why don’t you go play before we take you in and get you a bath, hmm?”

Karen gave her a sigh and a slight glare, one intended to say exactly what she thought about her mother’s avoidance. The girl was too smart, a sad souvenir from being raised in a household with her father. She’d grown up having to be aware of every little thing, always afraid of setting off his temper, which meant she saw more than she should, knew more than she should have needed to.

She rushed off to the swing set again, and when she did that, when she played like any other eight-year-old, Tracy could almost pretend they were normal.

Karen was a regular kid who hadn’t lived through hell. Tracy was an omega looking for love and a life and a mate, not the used-up, broken creature her mate had left after his death.

Sam’s smile flashed in her mind again, and she returned her attention to her drawing. If only she could pretend things were different, that she was the sort of woman who could have a future with an alpha like that.

Instead of any of that, she hid herself in her art, in the care of her daughter, and shoved Sam’s handsome face away.

 

* * * *

 

Sam sat across from Claire, the omega he’d come to know, her three mates moving around the house, prowling close as they always did. They were protective, as most alphas were, and even with people they knew and trusted, they never went far away.

Which made Sam laugh, because he’d damn well seen what Claire had done to the alpha who had threatened her weeks before. He’d seen the way the dead alpha’s throat had been torn out, the teeth marks and chunks of flesh missing from him. In fact, he was likely in more danger than she was. Omegas weren’t something to underestimate.

Even so, the sweetness of their worry charmed him. He’d always wanted that, the laughter of an omega and the playing of children filling his home.

It seemed less likely it would happen as the years passed, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it.

“What about Alison?” Concern colored Claire’s words.

“Without her coming in to talk to me, there isn’t much I can do. I’ve added notes to files in case she gets picked up, but I’ve got limits, and helping an off-the-grid omega who won’t come forward is one of them.”

“She’s missing,” Claire said, drawing the words out as if that alone made her point.

“From what I saw, she can handle herself. She’s vicious,” Bryce chimed in, with a slight shudder.

“Vicious or not, I tried to call her two weeks ago, and I haven’t heard anything. Tiffany hasn’t heard anything. No one has been to her cabin in weeks.”

Sam tapped his fingers against the edge of the kitchen counter, trying to act as though those things didn’t get to him. He’d seen what happened to omegas when they disappeared, and it was never anything good. Still, Claire had been through enough. The woman didn’t need to hear that if Alison was missing, she was probably dead. As a detective for an omega crimes division, he’d seen the worst. Sam knew exactly how many risks to omegas existed.

Instead, he shrugged. “I can’t put a search out without any information, especially since she’s staying off the radar on purpose. If I hear anything, I’ll tell you.”

Claire’s shoulders sank, and immediately, Kaidan was there. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “She’s fine, I’m sure. You can disappear when you want to, so I’d bet she can, too.”

Claire tipped her head up and offered a sweet kiss to Kaidan, the exchange driving that ache deeper into Sam’s chest, his envy of the life he wanted and couldn’t manage to get.

So, instead, Sam dropped his gaze to the tile of the counter and gave them privacy, not wanting to intrude on the moment.

Claire’s voice drew him back moments later. “She’s doing well.”

Sam’s chuckle was soft, but he played dumb. “Who are we talking about, now?”

Claire’s look said his attempt at humor didn’t land. “Karen’s been asking about you, too.”

Sam even missed that little girl. He still had the picture she’d drawn him hung on his fridge, and damn if he didn’t stare at that thing while he ate at his kitchen table alone. “She’s a good kid. They’re doing okay? Don’t need anything?”

“They’re good. I went to the house yesterday and checked in. Karen loves the big yard and the swing set, and Tracy is mostly just resting.”

Sam leaned his elbow on the counter as he reminded himself that he was glad. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted Tracy to get her feet under her.

He remembered her black eye and injured hip after the last encounter with her mate, when her mate had found her after she’d run, after Claire had helped her run. The first night when he’d brought her to his house, as stupid as the choice had been, she’d woken from a nightmare. He’d pulled her against his chest and offered a gentle purr until she’d fallen back asleep. Her hip had healed fast, and he’d grown used to having her near.

Damn, she’d crawled beneath his skin fast.

It was good she was getting her bearings and working on herself, creating a life for them. He just wished he could be a part of it.

Not that he didn’t understand her hesitation. The poor girl had gotten snatched up by that alpha of hers young, and he’d kept his claws in her for years. She’d never had the chance to be on her own.

So, he understood it, and if it was anyone else, he’d have said she should stay on her own for at least a year. He’d dealt with omegas in similar situations enough to know that rushing things wasn’t the best choice.

The part of him that wanted her for his own, though, wasn’t thrilled with the idea of waiting so long. The itch through him, the unease that never went away, demanded he go find her, that he sate himself with her scent and make sure she was okay.

He’d just denied it over the past month. Each time he’d craved her, when he’d wanted to call the house, wanted to show up no matter what a disaster he knew it would be, he’d just shoved it down. Of course, the more he denied it, the more it grew inside him. The thing was like a prowling dog on a chain, now.

He ground the heel of his palm against his chest as if it could break up the tension that had settled there.

“That’s good,” he said instead, hoping none of it showed.

Claire’s eyes, sharp and far too smart, said she’d spotted it anyway. “You know, you can’t go to the omega house, since they’re not big on alphas, but maybe the next time I have her and Karen over, I could shoot you a text?”

Sam laughed at the ploy. “As sneaky as you are, that’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because she was pretty clear about wanting space.”

“Omegas don’t always know what they want,” Bryce offered from the other side of the counter. “Claire here wasn’t easy to catch, and if I’d listened to her, it never would have happened.”

Claire sent him a glare, and he only lifted an eyebrow in response. The affection between them, even with the subtle jabs, had Sam smiling.

“That’s different. Tracy isn’t wrong about this. She should have some time on her own, time to figure out what she wants.” Sam offered Claire a smile. “Besides, I can wait. Thanks for letting me know they’re doing well. If she needs anything, give me a call.”

Joshua leaned against the counter, his shoulder pressed against Claire’s as if he couldn’t quite get close enough. “I helped her look over some of the financial paperwork last time she was here. Her mate’s death certificate had come through, and she was given access to all the funds. That man had no shortage of money, so when she’s ready to move out? She and the girl are set.”

Sam hadn’t expected that. Nothing in his interactions with Tracy had implied she came from money.

Claire spoke up as though she’d read the thought on Sam’s face. “She didn’t handle the finances, so I don’t think she knew what they had. He was the sort to keep all that away from her.”

“Probably afraid if she knew, if she had access, that she’d use it to run. Bastards like that enjoy cutting their mates off from any chance of help.” Sam didn’t bother to hide the anger in his voice at the idea of Tracy being trapped, of her being at that mate’s mercy while trying to care for a young child.

Again, that tension rose in him, and try as he might, he knew he couldn’t fully settle the powerful instinct. It wanted her. It wanted a shot at her mate, despite the fact the bastard was six feet under. It wanted to lock the doors and crawl into bed beside her, to know she was safe and that the child was safe, as well.

But that wasn’t happening, at least no time soon.

He contented himself with giving in and giving up the pretenses. “Okay, fine. You’ve got me. Tell me everything about how they’re doing.”

 

* * * *

 

The breeze helped keep Tracy cool as she worked on a painting that had taken her two weeks. The mountain ranges surrounding her were lovely and frightening and reassuring all at once. They towered up on the edges of every direction, yet the few times she’d left the area, when she’d gone where the ground stretched out without anything to break it up, she’d felt exposed and uneasy.

Tracy had set up the old wooden easel the group home had on the outskirts of the property. A sketch the first day had quickly turned into a painting, with layers of acrylic overlapping to capture the brown of the mountains, the white of the rocks and the green patches in between.

Her skills had dwindled from years of disuse. She’d painted at first with Richard, during those initial years when things hadn’t been terrible. She’d even sketched him, at times. The strong jaw, the jutting chin, the blues eyes that had turned gray with age. He’d even set up an art studio for her, bought her the things to create.

Those had been good years, and the idea never failed to unnerve her. People thought abuse happened right away, that a woman met a man and the first time they saw one another, he slugged her.

That wasn’t the truth. It had started small, just red flags that she’d dismissed. Possessiveness, control, all things wrapped up in the lie of love. I just worry about you, that’s why you can’t go out without me. I need to know where you are at all times so I can keep you safe. It went from that to snapped insults, subtle and sharp.

Things grew, though. They always did. Whatever happened at the start of a relationship, it always picked up speed. By the time she’d stopped painting him, when the idea of sketching those hard eyes had made her hand tremble, she’d started to cower. Why don’t you draw me anymore? She’d swallowed and tried, afraid to anger him, but the result had been lifeless, and he’d only grunted an unhappy sound and left her be.

Another year and she’d set down her paintbrush for good. Painting was about seeing the beauty in the world, and she couldn’t manage that anymore.

The freedom she’d found since his death, the fleeting smile of her daughter as she played, those things brought back her desire.

Skill would take time to rebuild, the muscles having grown lazy, but it was the spark she’d found again.

It let her think maybe things might be okay.

The crunch of dry shrubs behind her had Tracy turning, the same panic that always rose in her when she was snuck up upon. Will that ever go away?

Behind her stood three men, all well-dressed. Two had the black suits and rigid stances of bodyguards, and the third, who rested between them, looked as if he’d never worked hard a day in his life. His black hair was slicked back, a fancy suit tailored perfectly to his thin form.

Clearly, he was in charge.

Tracy swallowed hard as she curled her shoulders in, as she tried to look smaller. She knew she looked foolish, like prey caught in headlights, but she couldn’t do anything but freeze.

The man in the expensive suit spoke up first. “Tracy Pera?”

She nodded. Maybe they were police, coming to talk to her about what had happened, about her mate? Insurance?

“Hello. My name is Mario Navarro.”

The name didn’t ring any bells, but why would it? Tracy knew few people, had lived as little more than a prisoner over the past fifteen years.

Thankfully, Mario didn’t seem to care what she had to say. “I knew your mate before his passing. We were business associates.”

Tracy’s unease lifted a little at that. “You worked at the financial group with him?”

Mario’s smile nothing to reassure her. It radiated menace and condescension, like her question was almost adorable enough not to annoy him. “Is that what he said he did? I suppose it’s as good a lie as any.”

Tracy took a step backward and bumped into her easel, trying to keep a minimum distance between her and the men. They continued to advance in slow, purposeful steps.

Why did I go so far from the house? Karen was playing inside, out of the way, which was the only thing she found herself thankful for.

She should have never left the safety of the house. The few times she’d had to go out, she’d always gone with one of the beta males who volunteered to escort the omegas. They were kind and didn’t set off her alarms the way alphas did.

These men weren’t alphas, yet all her warning bells were screaming in her head.

Mario’s smile twisted further. Did he like her fear? Was this the sort of man who got off on a woman’s unease? On the power he felt from it? “I’m here because I need you to do something for me.”

“I don’t think I can help you.”

“You sell yourself short, dear. Richard possessed files of some great importance. He enjoyed using them as an insurance policy to guarantee his safety and yours. This worked well enough while he was alive, but now that he is dead, I find myself feeling rather exposed. You see, the files he has do not look favorably upon me, and I would sleep much sounder at night if I were to have them back in my possession.”

“I don’t know about any files. Richard never talked about work with me.”

“Of course he didn’t. I didn’t think he sat down and told you anything. I mean, why would he? You were…well, what you are. However, you lived with him. You have access to all he had. If anyone can find those files, it would be you.”

“I can’t. I don’t know anything,” she whispered, willing him to understand. Richard had told her nothing. He’d kept his work away from her, never confided in her or treated her as an equal.

His teeth flashed in the bright sun, and the action was odd on his face, as if he’d practiced it from alphas but couldn’t quite get it right. “You will. I’ll give you one month to locate the files and return them to me. And don’t think about involving the police, because you will not like my response.”

Tracy froze until Mario nodded, the gesture polite, as if they’d had a lovely conversation and he was then taking his leave. He walked away with the two hulking bodyguards, and the roar of an engine said they’d started their car. They must have parked near the back road of the property. She didn’t dare move until the noise had died away, telling her they’d left.

Tracy gathered her art supplies, tucking the painting beneath one arm and the easel beneath the other. She rushed for the safety of the house, with its impressive security system and massive locks.

The moment she got inside, she took a deep breath. Everything is okay. She had no idea what that man was talking about, but she was safe inside the house, right? Nothing could get her there. Even so, she called out Karen’s name.

Karen came out from the theater, the noises of a kids’ movie following her as she squinted, her eyes not adjusting from the dark movie room. “What, Mom?”

Tracy dropped her things and gathered the girl in her arms. She pressed a kiss to her red hair, a tremble inside her she hadn’t realized had grown so strong.

Relax. People make things up all the time. No one can get to either of us. He was bluffing.

Tracy ushered Karen back off to finish her movie. No need to burden the young girl. The rush inside had meant Tracy had pressed a still wet painting to her side, and along with ruining the piece, she’d smeared all manner of grays and blues on her clothing.

She closed the door to her room, trying to laugh off the encounter, to make the entire thing into a joke where she’d overreacted and let fear get the best of her.

A letter on the bed stopped her short. The folded piece of paper had her name on the front in perfect calligraphy.

With a shaking hand, Tracy lifted the paper and unfolded it.

 

Tracy,

In case you thought you were safe, rest assured, you are not outside my grasp. What I asked of you is not difficult and complying is your best option. However, if you thought about betraying me, if you thought about denying me, I would suggest you rethink it.

 

No signature rested at the bottom, but it didn’t need one. Mario’s face, his arrogant, threatening smirk, mocked her in her mind.

He was bluffing, right? Just because someone snuck a letter inside didn’t mean she wasn’t safe. The walls of the home had become her fortress, her shelter against a dangerous storm.

That’s what she thought until the first bullet shattered not only her window but also the safety she’d thought she’d found.

Sam paced the long hallway outside the conference rooms.

“Just go in already.” Bran leaned against the wall, watching Sam refuse to stand still.

“She didn’t ask for me.”

“So? You’re here, ain’t you?” Bran twisted a paperclip in his hands, a nervous habit that came from his endless attempts to quit smoking. While he didn’t work closely with Bran all that often, the other officer was a good one, despite being far too nosy.

“If she wanted me, she could have asked.” Sam shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to stay out of the way.

People rushed from room to room, taking statements, running background checks. The attack on the omega house wasn’t the sort of thing that happened by accident. Six bedroom windows and no injuries? Either a miracle, or someone meant it to be a warning.

“People don’t always ask for what they want.” Bran gave a not-too-subtle nod in Sam’s direction.

Point taken.

“She doesn’t need to see me like this anyway.”

“Yeah, sure, omegas hate when men get all protective.” The eye-roll Bran offered would have made a teenage girl proud.

Still, he knew he was right. An omega with a past like Tracy’s didn’t need to see the sort of rare violence Sam had going on in his head. It meant he’d resigned himself to the background, to the details and the evident and the things that left him out of sight and it seemed, out of mind.

She should have asked for me.

Just as the petty, sullen thought crossed his mind, a familiar face appeared when he turned the corner into the break room.

Karen stood, staring at the vending machine with the sort of empty expression he’d seen before.

Poor girl had been through too much, seen too much. She didn’t need this on top of it all.

Should I turn around? Her mother didn’t want to see me. Maybe I shouldn’t get involved.

As he convinced himself to back away, Karen turned and met his gaze. The little girl’s bottom lip trembled, the subtle show of upset before she tried to bury it.

Sam couldn’t walk away, not after that, not after Karen tried to be so damn brave. She shouldn’t have to do that.

He waved off Bran and crossed the hallway, then pulled a dollar from his pocket and slid it into the machine. “I like the chocolate the best.”

“Mom said I should get something healthy.”

He laughed, popped in the C-6 for the chocolate bar, then slid another dollar into the machine before getting one of the apples at the top. “There. Now you did what she said but you get some chocolate, too. I think you’ve earned some chocolate.”

Karen reached into the area at the bottom where the food rested. “Mom’s scared,” she whispered.

“I know. We’re going to figure it out though, don’t you worry.”

She bit at her bottom lip, her gaze down. “She’s packing.”

Sam crouched so Karen would look at him. “What do you mean, she’s packing?”

Karen shifted her food to one hand, then reached into her pocket. She withdrew a piece of paper but didn’t turn it over. “Just afterward, she threw all our stuff into bags.”

Sam tried to keep the frown from his face, but he doubted it worked. A startle like that is sure to make anyone want to run, right? Especially with Tracy’s past. “What happened probably just freaked her out. She’ll settle down, and everything will be fine.”

Karen fiddled with the paper, twisting it as if she wanted to give it to him but was afraid to. Finally, she shoved the note into his hand.

Sam took it, opening the paper until he could make out the words. Each word, every hardly-veiled threat, had his temper rising.

Temper wasn’t something he normally had a problem with. Things just slid off him, never getting him angry, never getting below his calm, cheerful exterior.

The idea that someone had threatened Tracy, that they’d taken a shot at her, that they’d frightened her in a place that should have been a sanctuary had him wanting to bare his teeth.

“Where did you get this?”

Karen scraped her foot against the tile floor. “Mom hid it under her mattress, where she always hid things from Dad. She doesn’t know I took it.” Karen lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I don’t want to run again.”

Sam set his hand on the girl’s shoulder and squeezed. “You won’t have to run again, I promise.”

“What about that?” She gestured toward the paper.

“Don’t you worry about this.” Sam tucked it into his pocket. “Whoever wrote this? They can’t get you.”

“You promise?”

Sam nodded, his words suddenly mattering like they never had before. He wasn’t a liar by nature, but lying to Karen was just wrong. “Yeah, kid, I promise. I’ll take care of it.”

When Sam entered the conference room, Karen having stayed in the chair just outside, Tracy didn’t even turn her head at first.

She looked exhausted. How long had she been there? Five hours? Sam fought the desire to just haul her out, over his shoulder if needed, and deposit her into his bed to sleep. It was where she should have been from the start. They could talk about the attack and the threat later. None of it mattered more than her well-being.

But she wouldn’t give in to that, and even trying it would send her running, so Sam tamped down the desire. Instead, he inhaled so her scent filled his nostrils.

Tracy must have done the same, because she spun toward him, knocking over the chair she’d been sitting in, her eyes as wild as her red hair.

Sam lifted his hands, palms out, and stayed by the door to give her space.

He’d seen her have this fight before, watched her warring between wanting to trust him and fearing him. His alpha side, that terrified her. But the man? Him, she knew. Hell, he was pretty sure that part of him she even liked.

So, Sam waited for her gather her courage, for her to let the knee-jerk reaction fade and think through the fear.

It happened, slower than he’d have liked, slower than it had when she’d stayed at his place. Was it the attack? The distance? He’d hoped the month apart would let her feel more secure, but that wasn’t how it seemed.

She’s just been through a lot. At the reminder, he tried to let go of the tension inside him. That tension seemed odd. Sam wasn’t a tense man. At thirty-seven, he’d found little would bother him.

This bothered him.

Tracy’s shoulders slumped and she dropped her gaze to his feet, as though she couldn’t not watch him but couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye, either. “Sorry,” she whispered.

The shame in those words tugged at him.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He meant it about more than that moment. She didn’t have a damned thing to be sorry about, and he wished she believed him.

Instead of acknowledging that, she wrapped her arms around herself, her thick red hair braided and hanging over one shoulder. She wore a sweater, thick and baggy and unassuming. It was how she’d dressed since he’d first met her, as if she tried to attract as little notice as possible. A stupid plan, because the woman was breathtaking no matter how much she tried not to be. The freckles that stood out on her face made her look sweet, especially when paired with those bright amber eyes, too big and innocent to be fair.

Tracy took a step backward, and that woke him up. Right, don’t leer at her, you idiot.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a hesitation, a nervousness that said she wasn’t sure she was even allowed to ask.

“I work here,” he reminded her, instead of admitting to the truth.

“Right.”

He fought a smile at the way she said that, as if she’d forgotten. She hadn’t forgotten, just hoped to avoid him, he’d bet, especially if she planned to run.

The last thing she’d want was to get back on his radar if she was going to up and disappear. Of course, how the silly woman could think she’d ever gotten off his radar, he didn’t understand.

Then again, understanding women was something no man—alpha or otherwise—was any good at.

“I’m fine.” She took her seat again after picking it back up. “You don’t need to worry.”

Like hell I don’t.

Once he was sure she wasn’t going to head straight into a panic attack, Sam fully entered the room and took the seat across from her, using the table as a barrier for her comfort. He wanted to grab her, to pull her into his arms, to feel all those subtle curves beneath the baggy clothes she wore and explore each one, to promise he’d let nothing happen to her, not ever. Except, he knew damned well that wouldn’t happen, not with how flighty she was.

Hell, with how covered up she stayed, he had no idea what was even beneath those far-too-big clothes she wore. She was thin—too thin really—given her neck and hands. She’d put on weight over the time since her mate’s passing, over her weeks with him. Still, he yearned to discover her hip-to-waist ratio, to see if she had dimples on her ass, to see how far down those mass of freckles went.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened. The start of something that could almost be interest sprang in her eyes before fear overtook it.

Knock it off. It’s not as if you’re going to sleep with her here, anyway.

Sam called on his easy-going nature before tipping his lips into his normal, charming smile. Better to not address all that lust she must have scented from him. Talking about it wouldn’t make her feel safer. She’d just have to learn he wouldn’t hurt her, and that would take time.

Thankfully, time he had. Sam had never been afraid to play the long game, to wait for what he wanted, and there was no doubt in his mind that he wanted this omega. It all came down to if he could convince her of that.

“I saw Karen down the hall.”

Tracy toyed with the hem of the sweater as she sat. “She’s afraid. She’s been through enough, and she shouldn’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“She’s a tough kid, like her mom. She’ll be fine.”

Tracy’s soft nod and hard eyes screamed her thoughts. She’ll be fine because we won’t be here anymore. Poor woman thought she could just skip town like that? That no one would know or care?

Still, he approached things carefully. Conversations were minefields with flighty omegas, and he didn’t need this one blowing up in his face. “What’s your plan?”

“Plan?” A tinge of hysteria colored the word. “They said the windows would be fixed by night, and they’ve already put in extra security.”

“No. What are you going to do? Running won’t help.”

Her face paled. “I don’t know what you’re—”

Sam pushed the piece of paper across the table, and she didn’t even reach for it. She didn’t need to, did she? Instead, she watched the note as if it were a spider, slinking around and waiting to strike. “Where did you get that?”

“Does it matter?”

A pause. “Karen found it. I should have known she’d figure out my hiding spot.”

“She asked me to keep you guys safe.”

“She shouldn’t have asked you.” The tremble in Tracy’s voice showed she wasn’t as dead-set on going as she seemed.

“Come on, honey. You don’t want to pick up and take off again, not when you two are finally getting your feet under you. Let me help.” Let me take care of you.

She dragged her tongue against her bottom lip, shifting in the chair. He could almost see each thought that crossed her mind, each objection, each fear. She didn’t want to be a burden, she was afraid he couldn’t help her, she was afraid of him.

Finally, Tracy met his gaze, the fight gone from her tired, amber eyes. “This isn’t your responsibility.” Even as she said it, he heard beneath the words. She wanted him to help, she just didn’t know how to ask for it.

“It is now. I swore to her I would, and I don’t make promising I won’t keep. Until we’ve figured this out, you’re stuck with me, honey.”

 

* * * *

 

Walking into Sam’s house conflicted Tracy. Being there again made her uneasy, yet the warm decor, the lived-in furniture and the atmosphere made her feel safe.

It’s not the house, you coward. It’s the alpha.

Karen rushed past her, her colorful backpack slung over her shoulder as she ran for her room.

Tracy went to tell the little girl to wait, but Sam waved off her concern. “Room is still set up for her, don’t worry. Never changed a thing in it.”

After a month? “Why not?”

Sam carried Tracy’s bags himself, having snorted softly when she’d attempted to help. The sight of him hefting the bags over his broad shoulder had managed to make Tracy’s stomach flip, to some strange place between desire and fear.

“I was hoping you’d come back. What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic,” he said.

Tracy opened her mouth to refute the whole ‘romantic’ part of his statement, but he didn’t wait around long enough for her to. Instead, he passed her, heading in the same direction as Karen, to the spare room he’d given to her. Not more than a minute later, she heard the hushed whispers of Sam and Karen, up to no good, she was sure. When she and Karen had stayed with Sam before, he Sam and Karen had worked sneakily together to get whatever they wanted. Desserts, special dinners, time at the park. Tracy constantly felt outnumbered, which should have annoyed her.

Instead, it had been strange to have someone who listened to Karen, someone she could play that ‘us against them’ game with the way she did with Sam. She deserved that sort of foundation, that stability.

Sure enough, Karen walked out with a grin that said they’d come up with an idea Tracy wouldn’t like.

“What are you up to?” Tracy asked.

“I want to spend the night with Claire.”

The idea seized her chest. She didn’t let Karen go places often, and after the fright at the group home? The thought of Karen out of her sight had terror freezing her.

Sam spoke up from behind Karen. “Claire’s place is a fortress, you know that. I think she could use a night away, and you and I could talk.” When she was ready to argue, Sam added, “I don’t think you want her overhearing our conversation, do you?”

At that, Tracy paused. Sam meant their talk about who had left that note, about what had happened. He hadn’t pushed at the station, only explaining how running wouldn’t work. Whoever had orchestrated that message had done so with no less than four highly trained snipers, given the simultaneous shots fired and the distance from where they’d shot from. Not to mention, they had to have watched her for a while since they knew where the bedrooms were and had gotten a note inside.

A person like that wouldn’t let her run off, not until they got what they wanted. Karen didn’t need to be there, didn’t need to hear those details. She deserved a night away, a night to just be a kid, and she trusted Claire like no other.

Tracy forced herself to nod. “Okay. I’ll call her.”

Two hours later, Claire and the three alphas she lived with had picked up Karen. The idea of her being in a house with alphas put Tracy on edge, but she knew Claire, and the three alphas had proven themselves.

As trustworthy as any alpha could, at least. Alphas weren’t all bad, weren’t all like Richard, but Tracy had dealt with enough that she struggled to remember it.

It left Sam and her alone, with him seated in the recliner he tended to use during the evenings and her perched on the edge of the couch in case she needed to bolt.

It again reminded her of how different they were. He was large, quiet, steady. He smiled easily, talked to others easily, had all the confidence in the world. A slight five-o’clock shadow had sprung up on his strong jawline, but it did nothing to dull his sweet-natured look.

“Talk to me, honey. I just want to help.”

Tracy took a deep breath before spilling the details, her gaze down on her hands where she twisted them. Sam asked questions, and she answered them as best she could. The main point, though? She knew nothing about what Richard had done for a living. He’d left her out of that part of his life, and she had no idea who he knew, where he might have kept any files or even what he did.

Sam remained silent for most of the story, letting her pour it out. At the end, he remained quiet, a slight twitch in his eyes the only sign he’d heard her, that he still thought about it. Finally, he nodded. “I know Mario Navarro. He’s involved in things most of the police force doesn’t acknowledge. He’s paid off a lot of people to keep his nose clean, or at least keep it looking that way, and he’s more than capable of doing what he said he could.”

“What do we do, then?”

“I’ll go talk to him.”

Tracy sat up straight, an instant no on her lips. “You can’t do that.”

Sam offered her that smile that melted parts of her she’d thought were frozen solid. “You worried about me?”

“No,” she said, afraid of Sam seeing too much, of him expecting something, of him mistaking her worry for affection. “He said if I went to the police, I’d be sorry.”

“Trust me, I’ll handle it. Nothing will happen to you or Karen.”

She didn’t push as much as she wanted to. She’d learned a long time before not to argue with an alpha once they’d made up their mind. It never ended well for her. Her best bet had always been to keep her head down and just try to survive. The only choices she’d made in her life had been disastrous, so leaving it to others had always proved safer.

She left the subject be and tried to gather courage to broach another topic. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

“Do what? Talk to me?”

Tracy risked a glance up to meet his lovely dark brown eyes, so many shades deeper than her own amber. “I know you want something from me that I can’t give you.”

“How would you know if you haven’t asked me?”

“Because I can see it. I can smell it. You want things from me, things I’m not capable of. I appreciate what you’ve done for Karen and me, I can’t ever thank you enough for that, but, Sam—”

“I heard you weren’t sleeping in the group home. I can see the bags under your eyes.”

“So?”

“So, you were sleeping here. Are you really going to say you didn’t like being here? That Karen didn’t like it?”

“I needed to stand on my own.”

“Did I hobble you? Did I keep you from doing anything?”

No, he hadn’t. If anything, he’d pushed her to try new things, to regain that footing she’d lost. He’d given her space, freedom and a safe place to be when the world and her past overwhelmed her. He’d been the one to suggest counseling, to offer self-defense class information, to wait in the car as she’d run errands, telling her she could handle them even as fear had pricked at her.

Tracy took her bottom lip between her teeth and stopped hiding. “Eventually you were going to get tired of what I can’t give you. You wouldn’t have been happy with me not wanting anything physical. Everything has a price, and I can’t pay what you want from me.” Admitting it hurt. Even though she couldn’t be what Sam was looking for, she hated having to say it out loud, having to put her shortcomings and flaws on display, even to a man who knew them. She hated it more because she wanted what he did but wasn’t capable of it.

Sam reached out, moving slowly enough, she could have pulled away.

She didn’t.

He set his large, warm palm on her hand, the weight reassuring. “I’m not asking for anything you won’t give me yet.”

“Yet?” The word came out rough when she caught the promise there, the certainty.

His lips curled up into a smile that had her lower stomach tightening, a flash of desire so quick and subtle that she almost missed it. “Yeah, honey, yet. I’ll wait as long as it takes, but you’re going to give in.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Sam traced her knuckles with his thumb, the touch teasing and coaxing. “Because I’ve seen you look at me, too, and even if you try to hide it, you want me. You’ve just got to realize it.”

Tracy wanted to argue, but the gentle sweep of his thumb against her skin said differently.

No matter how it frightened her, she did want him.

 

* * * *

 

Sam didn’t like to walk into situations without a plan. Some things couldn’t be helped, though, and this wasn’t the sort of thing he could bring back-up to.

Mario sat at a table in the Italian restaurant Sam’s contacts had tipped him off about.

Maybe this was a terrible idea. There’s no ‘maybe’ about it. Walking up to a known criminal and telling them to knock it off? Always a brilliant plan.

Still, Sam didn’t have many options. He figured one good scare and Mario would back off. He couldn’t consider whatever Richard had worth it to get on the radar of a cop. People like Mario were about risk vs reward. Sam needed to show him that the risk was too great to bother.

He took a seat across from Mario, who raised his hand when his hulking guards came forward.

“And who might you be?”

Sam lifted his badge, flashing it to Mario before tucking it away again.

Mario cocked up an eyebrow, then took a sip of the wine in front of him. “And to what do I owe a visit from the city’s finest?”

“I’m here on behalf of a woman you sent a message to yesterday.”

Mario set the glass down slowly, his gaze hard but giving no other sign of surprise or concern. “Yet you’re not here with anyone else. You aren’t here in an official manner, are you?”

“Does it matter? I can make life very difficult for you.”

Mario laughed. “I have the FBI watching me, and the local police and another handful of organizations who would all like to see me brought down. I doubt you can cause me any additional trouble. If you could, you wouldn’t be sitting here like this.” He leaned back, staring at Sam. “Tracy wouldn’t have gone to the police on her own. She’s a broken coward.”

A rumble in Sam’s chest told him he’d growled. He cut it short, cursing himself for the mistake.

Mario caught it, a vicious smile on his thin lips. “That explains it, doesn’t it? This little show of dominance you’re doing, it isn’t about your job. That means it must be personal. Well, well, didn’t she move on fast? I would have thought of her as an omega who took things slower, but then again, what else do they really do?”

Sam unlocked his jaw when his molars started to ache. Relax. Don’t let it get to you. “If anything happens to her, you won’t like what I do.”

“You won’t do a thing. If you take this to your boss, they’ll tell you to lay off. If you push, I’ll push harder. Tell your whore that the only way she and that child of hers get out of this in one piece is to do what I’m asking. If she gets me what I want, everyone walks away. It’s not so bad a deal.”

“Call her a whore again and see what happens.”

At that, Mario straightened. “I’ve given you far more understanding than I normally allow. Threaten me again, insult me again, and you can see what happens.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, frustration simmering inside him. He wanted to slug the man for the insult to Tracy, for frightening her, but he kept his head. Mario wasn’t kidding. He had far more power than any criminal should, and Sam’s plan was to make this go away. Hitting the asshole would only make things worse. “She doesn’t have what you want, anyway.”

“She can get it. She will if she wants to keep breathing.”

The threat slipped his temper free. He lifted his lip in a snarl, his voice dropping an octave. “You’re going to want to stop threatening her.”

Mario leaned in closer, over the table. “You alphas think you are something special, something above everyone else. You aren’t. You are animals, driven by hormones and instincts, and you think you can do whatever you want, say whatever you want, and there will be no consequences. You think you are at the top of the food chain, but I assure you, you are not. Do not forget it.”

Before Sam could speak again, Mario waved forward the guards. One hauled Sam out of the booth, grip hard and sure.

Mario gave his parting shot with a bite in his voice. “Tell Tracy to hurry. I tend to grow impatient.”

The two guards hustled Sam from the restaurant, and no one looked up. If that didn’t tell him the sort of place the business was, nothing did. They all minded their own business, not willing to get involved or risk their own necks.

Fine by him. He didn’t like the idea of civilian casualties.

The bodyguards all but threw him into the alleyway, hard enough he caught himself on the opposite wall.

He fought the desire to turn and spit a snarky insult at them.

“One more thing,” one said.

Sam did turn, then. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”

“Mr. Navarro wanted to ensure you fully understood where you were on the food chain.”

Sam huffed a dark laugh at the stupid statement. “And how does he plan to do that?”

The answer came when one of the brutes nailed him in the jaw with a sucker punch, and one that was clearly not going to be the last.