Page 33 of Breaking the Alpha (Serpent’s Tongue Ink #2)

“I still don’t like you going into work alone,” River growled as Angelina slung her purse over her shoulder and raised up on her toes to give him a searing kiss goodbye in the driveway. “And that’s not going to change my mind.”

He wasn’t sure if they were on hour twenty-two or twenty-three of the ‘discussion’ he’d lost ten minutes in, but he knew he wasn’t happy. Monday morning had come too fast once Grey was safely in his own bed, and now his focus had shifted.

He wasn’t ready to be separated from her, wasn’t ready to leave her security up to some punk agent who would park his ass near Wholly Yours for the next eight hours and stare at her.

Yeah, he was being irrational.

And yeah, he didn’t care.

But he limped around and closed her door for her. He shoved his hands in his pockets while she drove off with a wave and left him scowling as he hobbled back inside.

Jocelyn handed him a cup of coffee when he entered the kitchen and he joined her at the table. “I don’t expect Grey will be up any time soon,” she said, her eyes narrowed in on her phone. “Birch gave him another round of those heavy-duty anxiety meds an hour ago.”

Concerned, he glanced up the stairs where he could hear the shower running. “Was he freaking out? I didn’t hear anything.”

She shook her head and set her cell down. “No, but the doctor recommended keeping Grey nice and foggy this week to give his body time to recuperate. Speaking of which, Angelina left a schedule on the fridge for your meds, too. You’re due for your antibiotics.”

“I’ll take them in a bit,” he huffed before he sipped at his coffee.

“She also asked me to remind you that you have twenty-five days with good behavior, more if you don’t comply with your doc,” Jocelyn said as she returned her attention to her phone.

Grumbling, he got to his feet and took his pills while Birch came downstairs and kissed the top of Jocelyn’s head, reading her phone over her shoulder.

“Anything in the news yet?”

“Nope. I told you the guys would keep Grey’s situation on the down-low.”

Birch poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter to watch River hobble back to his seat. “I changed Serpent’s Tongue’s hours to noon until nine for the next few months. After our sit-down with the Feds yesterday evening, I figured it would be better to streamline some things.”

River had missed the meeting. His knee had been throbbing and his lungs felt like he was getting gut-punched every time he inhaled. While Birch dealt with the Feds, River was sleeping off the heavy dose of pain meds he’d taken once Grey was back in his own bed.

And as much as he despised those pills clouding his head, he knew he couldn’t hide his discomfort from Angelina for long, and the last thing he wanted was her worrying over something he could take care of.

Leaning back, he tried to straighten his leg out, wincing when his knee protested. “What else did they say?”

Birch and Jocelyn exchanged a look before Birch answered. “Probably the most immediate thing is that tomorrow all security is being pulled. Serpent’s Tongue will be under surveillance via monitored cameras, but no more twenty-four-seven guard detail.”

“What the fuck?” he snarled, sitting up straighter with enough speed to send his broken ribs pressing against his damaged lung.

Taking a moment to let the pain ease, he ran a hand through his hair.

“Those motherfuckers threatened to go after Angelina and Jocelyn, Birch. How the hell can the Feds just up and leave?”

Jocelyn reached over and patted his arm. “It’ll be fine. As long as Birch plays nice, those guys will have no reason to go after anyone.”

“Me and Birch,” he corrected her, glaring at the table. “As long as he and I play nice.”

“You won’t be playing nice for long,” Birch stated, crossing his arms. “Once you’re healed up, you need to get back home and back to work.”

The reminder shut his mouth and he slumped back.

Right.

He needed to get back to work. Back to LA. Back to the life Birch busted his ass to give him.

His stomach churned with the thought.

Seemingly content he’d received no pushback about his order, Birch relaxed again.

“We really lucked out with the woman who found Grey. She won’t say a word to the media because she’s the trainer who works with the police dogs.

The pup who located Grey was around while she was getting the official trackers prepped and must have retained the scents, because apparently he went nuts when she had him out for a run outside the city.

Sheriff Fogerty said it was a one in a billion chance. ”

He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to imagine the scene the woman and her dog had stumbled across. He’d seen Grey once his brother was cleaned up, stitched up, and hooked up to saline to rehydrate him. And he still looked like fucking death.

Although he tried to listen while Birch reviewed the rest of the information the cops had provided, he couldn’t get past the reminder that his time in Epson was coming to an end.

He’d managed to meticulously avoid his phone for the past week, leaving his social media accounts dead in the water and Jodie’s texts unanswered.

Invites to parties sat unread. Messages from friends who wanted to hang out were ignored.

Business emails were opened and closed without consideration.

But he didn’t want to deal with it.

He didn’t want to deal with any of it.

He didn’t want to have the conversation with Angelina he knew was due.

Long overdue, if he was being honest. He didn’t want to tell her he had to go back to LA and keep building a career he wasn’t sure he was invested in anymore.

He didn’t want to pretend he would be good with a long-distance relationship when he was already missing her after an hour apart.

He didn’t want her to end up on the receiving end of the social media abuse so many girlfriends of guys like him received.

Besides, he couldn’t ask her to sit at home and wait for a guy like him.

She deserved a man who would be there, who would come home with flowers and watch movies with her, not call her late at night after some stupid photo op or, even worse, after a party swarming with half-naked women and alcohol.

She deserved better than pathetic apologies whenever a smear campaign against him erupted or some out-of-context photo leaked.

And she deserved to live a life free of the rumors about him, which would always be there in the shadows.

“So? Are you coming in for a bit? Jocelyn will text me when Grey wakes up and I can duck out to drive you back.”

He snapped out of his daze and blinked, nodding at his older brother and hefting himself to his feet. “Let’s go.”

*

River couldn’t help glancing at the high-tech security cameras nestled throughout Serpent’s Tongue, their presence almost unnoticeable unless you knew where to look.

It was simultaneously reassuring and unnerving.

Birch was hunched over his bookings, his brows furrowed and his ball cap on backwards. “And you’re sure your hands are steady enough to get on the piercing backlog?”

“Damn right they are,” he said, squinting at the sliver of daylight peeking between the curtains on the door. “Oh, fuck.”

His brother was on his feet and rounding the desk in a heartbeat. “Get in the back and call Fogerty.”

“As much as I’d love to hide right now, nothing’s going to save me from this,” he groaned, mentally preparing himself for the shitstorm presently striding toward the shop in sky-high heels, thin lips pursed and phone to her ear.

Jodie flung the door open, still barking orders to whatever poor soul was on the other end of the conversation. She paced the reception area, oblivious to River as she colorfully threatened someone’s manhood, hung up, and noticed Birch.

Her calculating eyes moved from his brother’s face down to his feet. “Why hasn’t River featured you on any of his posts? You’re delicious. And marketable.”

“Back off him, Jodie,” River sighed as Birch side-eyed him and retreated behind the desk. “What on earth are you doing here?”

She had yet to look over at him, her gaze still narrowed in on Birch with a hard precision River knew well.

“Riding in on my horse to save you from ButtFuck, Nebras—” Her laser sight finally turned on him and she froze.

“No. No, no, no, no, no. No, I am NOT seeing this, River. Do you understand me? There is no way in hell I’m seeing this. ”

“I—”

In three strides, she was standing directly in front of him, bending at the waist and placing her face inches from his.

“I am not seeing this, River Baker. I know I’m not, because I know you would’ve told me if you were in an accident.

And I know you would’ve told me because I also know you understand just how unpleasant I can become when I’m blindsided. ”

“Well, I—”

She cupped his chin and turned his head, examining the worst of the gashes along his forehead and cheekbone. “You’re lucky they’re well-placed. We can work with this.”

“Jodie, I—”

Backing up, she held up her phone and snapped a few pictures. “I’ll forward these to the makeup artists working the first leg of this campaign. Was it a fight? Rodeo? You ride horses out here, right? Wrangle pigs and goats and all that? What other damage are we dealing with?”

Pushing himself to his feet, he ran his hands through his hair, remembering the last time his appearance had drawn this kind of reaction from her.

Of course, a sunburn wasn’t quite the same, but her reaction was.

“Rodeo? No. I mean, yeah. Jesus, Jodie. Why don’t we go for a bite to eat across the street and we can catch up. ”

Birch cleared his throat. “He’s healing up fast, ma’am. He’ll be able to get back to work soon.”

Jodie turned her icy glare on Birch and his brother shrank back a fraction. “River. Sweetheart. Tell me I was not just ma’am ’d. Tell me this potential revenue source is not sitting beside my damaged client calling me ma’am .”

He reached for his crutches, the movement snapping her attention back to him like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“River.”

“Jodie.”

“Strip. Now.”

He glared at her but didn’t hesitate, knowing she would need to see the extent of his injuries sooner or later.

And since later was likely going to be in a restaurant, sooner was better.

Passing his crutches to Birch, he tugged his shirt off and undid the fly of his jeans, shoving them down to his ankles and clumsily kicking them off. Jodie was crouched in front of him instantly, her scrutinizing gaze assessing him from every angle while Birch’s mouth hung open.

Although he knew his brother was stunned by Jodie’s unapologetic prodding as she palmed his thighs and knelt in closer to see his stitches, it was old hat for him.

Cuts, scrapes, sunburns—even carpet burns—were her business.

He knew she was cataloging each one and already figuring out which angles would hide them best, her thumbs flying across her phone screen intermittently to make her notes.

She sat back on her heels and looked up at him. “Any I can’t see?”

“Just a gravel burn on my hip,” he offered, inching the band of his boxers down far enough for her to see just as the chimes went off at the door.

Birch’s hushed curse hit him a split second before Angelina’s voice did.

“Oh, my, this is awkward.”