Page 31 of Breaking the Alpha (Serpent’s Tongue Ink #2)

R iver ignored Jodie’s call for the fifth time that morning, his mind preoccupied with Serpent’s Tongue’s silent phone.

Birch paced the shop floor, stopping periodically to whisper quietly with Jocelyn, who was trying to preoccupy herself with reorganizing the display shelves.

Angelina sat beside him, her fingers absently playing with the bracelets on his wrists and her chair pulled as close to his as he could get it.

He had foregone his painkillers that morning to ensure his head was clear, a decision he was beginning to regret as his injuries continued to make themselves known with every breath he took.

Shifting in his seat, he stretched his left leg out under the desk and dug his knuckles into his thigh to massage out the knots.

The move was noticed immediately by Angelina.

“Take the edge off,” she murmured, rifling through her purse and handing him a single pill. “You don’t want the pain clouding your thoughts.”

He accepted the medication without hesitation and swallowed it with a gulp of water while she set her purse back on the floor and continued to spin the beads on his bracelets.

He knew he had been a bit of an ass all morning.

His mind was so preoccupied with Grey that he had barely spoken to her.

And he wanted to. He wanted to unleash verbally just like he had physically last night when he’d taken her hard and relentlessly like a feral animal.

He wanted to get on his damaged knees and praise the calm, sedate goddess beside him for being his beacon of light and hope.

He wanted to apologize over and over for fucking her when he should have been making love to her.

And he wanted to hear her voice.

She was giving him the silence he both needed and despised.

She was speaking only with her gentle hands on his skin when he wanted desperately for her to talk to him, to tell him what she needed from him.

He wanted her to acknowledge Birch’s words the night before, to yell at him and ask him to stay, to leave his life in LA and stay here in Epson with her.

Because he saw the look on her face when his brother had mentioned it.

Her expressive amber eyes had widened, as though she’d forgotten what the end of his foray back to Epson would mean.

The lips he loved to kiss had momentarily lost the peaceful smile she always wore.

He watched her calm facade crack for a moment, and it had sliced him deeper than any wound a doctor could stitch together.

He should have said something. Should have taken her to his room and told her he didn’t want to leave her, didn’t want to return to a place where she wasn’t at his side. He wanted to promise her he would protect her, that no one would ever hurt her again.

But he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d shoved it all down into the place where he kept all his failings, allowing it to fester until the option to talk was long gone and the need to claim her had surged to the forefront.

His phone buzzed on the table again and he waited for it to go to voicemail.

He could only ignore Jodie for so long. Soon, he would have to answer. He would have to tell her he was in no shape to take on the big payday campaigns she’d set up for him. He would have to spin a lie about his injuries and conjure up a plausible reason for the new scars now marring his body.

He’d have to face the reality that he may no longer even have a choice to make about LA and his career.

With the amount of damage done, it would be weeks before his face was marketable again, and months before his body was. And even then, there would be more defects and more flaws for potential clients to overlook, more reasons for them to move on to another guy who didn’t need fixing.

Angelina’s fingers skimmed the back of his neck, yanking him out of his thoughts and saving him from his own mind like she had since the day they met.

When this was over, when Grey was back in his home where he belonged, he would make it his mission to make it up to her. He would do whatever he could to ensure she knew that she was it for him. He would pay her back in any way he could for what she’d done for him.

And he would do everything he could to prove himself worthy of being saved by her.

*

The shrill ring of Serpent’s Tongue’s phone caught River’s heart in his throat and he swallowed hard as Birch snatched it up and hit the speaker button.

“Hello?”

The line crackled before the man on the other end spoke. “You have a cozy little family gathering going on today, Baker.”

Jocelyn moved toward the window and Birch sprinted ahead of her, closing the curtains tight. “Let me talk to Grey.”

“You’ll have your chance once we get our answer.”

Birch looked to him for confirmation and he nodded. “Yeah,” his brother said, his eyes hard. “We’re in. Both of us. Now put Grey on the line.”

There was a rustling sound coming through the speaker and he held his breath, exhaling when a familiar voice spoke.

“Birch?”

Birch’s entire body deflated as he knelt beside the desk to get close to the mic. “Yeah, Grey. I’m here. River is, too.”

“He’s okay, right?” Grey asked, sounding tired and weak. “River? You’re okay?”

His throat was so tight he could barely speak. “Yeah, Grey. I’m good. You’re gonna be here soon to see for yourself.”

There was more shuffling in the background and the first man’s voice filled the room. “If we have a deal, Bakers, we’ll release him tonight.”

“I said we have a deal,” Birch growled. “Where will he be?”

“He’ll be where we decide he’ll be. And remember we’re watching. Next time, we won’t play so nice.”

The line went dead.

No one spoke. Angelina clung to his arm, her head buried in his shoulder. “I didn’t ask,” he finally choked out, his chest heaving with a sob he was barely holding back. “I didn’t ask him if he was all right.”

Birch grunted in response, his voice strained as Jocelyn knelt down behind him and wrapped her arms around him. “He is. He will be. We’ll make fucking sure he—”

No amount of drugs in his system could numb the ache overtaking him as he looked at Birch and saw his steady-as-a-rock brother fighting to get a handle on himself for the second time in twenty-four hours.

His shoulders heaved under Jocelyn’s grasp, his head bowed as he pressed his fist to his forehead.

He wasn’t doing much better when Angelina crawled onto his lap and cradled his head to her chest. Her silent permission toppled the precarious dam keeping him together and he broke down.

The first sobs wracked his body painfully as she murmured softly into his hair.

Her small arms felt like steel around him as he struggled to regain control, his breathing finally slowing to match hers.

Exhaling a shallow, shaky breath, he lifted his head and ran a hand over his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I—”

Her lips brushed against his. “Don’t you dare. I already warned you I have zero patience for apologies.” Smoothing his hair off his forehead, she adjusted her position but didn’t make a move to return to her chair, as if she knew he needed her there to anchor him. “Jocelyn?”

Jocelyn still had one arm tight around Birch where he sat on the floor, his head in his hands as her thumb flew across her phone screen.

“I’ve alerted Fogerty and my friends with the Feds on this case,” she said, frowning at her cell.

“Without knowing where Grey’s being held, they have no launch point.

But they have ears and eyes everywhere, so wherever he’s dropped off, someone will be close enough to scoop him up and bring him home. ”

Birch cleared his throat and straightened up. “So we keep waiting.”

“We keep waiting,” Jocelyn echoed softly. “And we get ready to welcome him home.”

Something in her voice spoke to his brother and Birch nodded, a visible calm washing over him. “Then let’s go.” He pushed himself off the floor and walked around the desk, coming up behind River and wrapping one arm around him. “You have an appointment at the hospital, right?”

“Yeah.”

Leaning in close to his ear, Birch muttered quiet enough to keep his words between them. “He’s coming home, okay? Love you, Riv.” With a quick squeeze, Birch released him. “Get going. Jocelyn and I will lock up and we’ll meet back at the house.”

*

River tugged his shirt over his head while the doctor turned his attention back to Angelina to discuss his findings and review the changes to the medication doses.

It probably should have annoyed him, being treated like a kid in his own recovery, but seeing her taking notes and asking questions he hadn’t even considered only made him love her more.

With his mind on Grey and Birch, there was no space left for him to concentrate on himself, so he’d tuned out gratefully, knowing Angelina was on it.

“Book another appointment for one week from today,” the doctor instructed as Angelina handed him his crutches. “And cut back on the strenuous activity, River. Those lungs and ribs of yours aren’t ready to take on a marathon yet. You’ll end up doing a hell of a lot of harm if you keep pushing it.”

Angelina nodded solemnly. “I’ll make sure he rests more and exercises less.”

“I haven’t hit the gym since—”

She gave him a look and his mouth snapped shut. “Since yesterday,” she finished for him. “And you’re not going back for at least four weeks.”

The doctor followed them down the corridor.

“I know it can be tough for an active guy like you to stay still, but you already popped nine of your stitches. I was able to use glue on them, but we don’t need you opening those wounds up more.

Or further straining your lungs and ending up in here again. ”

“Nine stitches,” Angelina echoed. “Did you hear that, River? Nine. I don’t believe you mentioned those this morning.”

Checking for an update from Birch and finding none, he shoved his fear for Grey to the side while they exited the hospital, his mind slowly putting together the pieces of the discussion with the doctor.

“Wait,” he said as he got into the passenger seat of her car.

“Did you and the doc basically agree we can’t have sex for four weeks? ”

“We did.”

His jaw dropped open. “What the hell? No! I’m, like, halfway recovered.”

“What the hell, yes.” Backing out of their parking spot, she turned out of the lot and onto the street. “And you aren’t halfway recovered, you’re ten percent recovered. Maximum. I saw those oxygen and lung capacity numbers.”

“But—” He sat back in his seat and stared at her, noticing her purple sundress for the first time. “But you look gorgeous,” he finished pathetically.

With a smile, she reached over to pat his knee. “Thank you. I’ll remember to wear this again in twenty-eight days.”