Page 12 of Coco and the Misfits (The Candyverse #4)

ZACH

I wander through the gym in a funk, and not only because Coco turned me down. I mean, she’s a goddess. Why would she wanna go out with an idiot like me?

No, it’s the other thing she almost said that got me, and now I’m so worried I can barely fucking breathe.

A familiar feminine silhouette catches my attention and I run after her. “Gigi, wait.”

“Hey, Zach. What’s up?”

“Are you in a hurry? Got a minute?”

“Sure.” She smiles. “What’s up?”

It’s weird to think of her as my stepmom. She’s barely older than me. Since she joined my dad’s pack—or should I say, since she became the reason for a pack to form with Dad at its head, making him happier than I’ve ever seen him—I’ve struggled with my relationship to her.

Most days, I don’t think about it. But now she’s looking at me like a concerned mother and I don’t know if I should talk to her as I would to a friend or an elder.

“Zach,” she prompts. “What is it?”

“It’s Coco,” I blurt out. I had meant to lead with small talk, but that’s what came out of my mouth. “Something’s wrong, and she won’t tell me what it is.”

Her smile falls. “I can’t tell you if she won’t.”

“Oh, come on, Gigi.” All my earlier thoughts of respect for elders fly out the window. “How am I to protect her if you won’t tell me what happened? Something went down that night at the bar, didn’t it?”

“Protect her. I see…” She gives me a narrow, pensive look. It feels as if she’s staring right into the depths of my soul. Not even my own mom has ever given me such a piercing look. “You want to protect her, do you?”

“Yeah! Why is that so weird?”

“Because you care for her.”

“I…” I blink. Is she fishing for information on how I’m feeling about Coco? How am I feeling? “Just tell me.”

“Zach!” The receptionist, a new omega girl whose name I didn’t catch, waves at me. “You’re late for your class. Everyone is waiting for you.”

“Fuck. Gigi?—”

“Ask her,” she says. “Ask Coco to tell you.”

“I have!”

“Then she will tell you in her own time.”

What’s with the ominous words? How am I supposed to wait when she may be traumatized in some way? How will I sleep tonight?

I could call. Beg for her to tell me. Knock on her door like a stalker and a weirdo.

Or… someone else may know. Someone who took her home that night.

Atticus Ford.

* * *

By the time I’m done with classes, showered and changed into clean clothes, it’s late. Later than I thought it would be.

But it’s a bar. Now is the perfect time to go.

It feels strange to head that way in my jeans, T-shirt and sneakers.

I’m not one for dressing up to go out, but usually I throw on a shirt, at least. The giant bouncer at the door won’t like this.

He doesn’t like me, either, and tried to turn me away a few times in the past.

And indeed he doesn’t look pleased to see me. He gives me a long once-over and scowls. “Dress code,” he barks.

“Look, I need to talk to Atticus. That’s all. Then I’ll leave.”

“Try again,” he growls.

All my growing worry for Coco is turning into molten fury. I clench my fists. “Atticus Ford. It’s about Coco. Tell him Zach Ashford is here to talk. He knows me.”

At least I hope so. We’ve talked once or twice. It’s probable he doesn’t remember my name. I count on the mention of Coco’s name to get him to see me.

“Coco.” The bouncer rubs his chin. “What is she to you?”

“My friend.” My gut tells me to go for honesty. “Something happened and I want to help her.”

The bouncer glares at me for long minutes. Behind me, a line is forming. Finally, he sighs and nods, whipping out his phone. He presses a button. “Hey, boss? A Zach Ashford here to see you about Coco.”

Watching his face, I realize he knows Coco. And he’s worried, too. Mentioning her name, telling him the truth about my motivations was the right move. I nod at the giant alpha and for the first time, I get a grudging nod in return.

United over our concern for Coco. Who would have thought?

Wait, does that mean he wants her for himself? The stirrings of fondness for the man evaporate. Is he courting her?

I’m saved from picking a fight with him—which is so fucking weird, since I’ve never picked a fight over anyone in my entire life—when he opens the door behind him.

“Come inside,” he says, “wait by the entrance. He’s on his way.”

“Thanks, man.” I walk past him and into the dimness of the bar. The music beat makes the floor vibrate. The place is still half-empty. I’m not used to seeing all the way from here to the bar where a bartender is wiping down the counter.

I see him stride toward me, dressed in a dark suit and white shirt, looking immaculate and imposing.

Atticus.

He frowns at me from across the bar but doesn’t slow down. There is an aura of power about him that speaks to me. To my dick, at least. I’m not into men, but this man does it for me.

Which is not why I’m here, but hell, my dick always has its own agenda, perking up and hardening in my pants as he approaches and his deep scent gets added to the picture.

Damn, brain, focus.

“Zach,” he greets me, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. His eyes glint over tanned cheekbones and a groomed beard. Silver hair, silver beard, pale eyes. Like a wolf, I think. A top wolf. “Erik says you wanted to talk to me about Coco.”

“That’s right.” I swallow down the importune flare of lust and dig into my anger. “I came to ask you what happened to Coco the other night.”

“What night?”

“Don’t fuck with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You took her home.”

“So I did. That a problem?” he asks mildly.

“Why? Why the interest in her?”

“Don’t you think she’s fascinating?”

“Of course I do! But why is she afraid? Is she afraid of me?”

Those pale eyes narrow. “Of you .” He unfolds his arms and points a finger at me. “What the hell did you do? Stay away from her. Don’t you dare touch her.”

I almost laugh. “The fuck you say.”

“She’s vulnerable and you’re fucking pushing her, aren’t you? To sleep with you?”

“You know nothing about me and don’t fucking presume stuff, okay?” I’m quickly losing my cool. “Why is she vulnerable, dammit? What did you do to her?”

“I?” He prowls closer and plants a hand in the middle of my chest. “Are you accusing me of molesting her?”

“Well, did you?”

With a low curse, he gives me such a shove I’m slammed into the wall, the air leaving my lungs in a whoosh. “You fucking dare .”

His voice is a deep baritone that curls inside me and gets me hard all over again.

He’s close… too close. He smells like aged whiskey and smoke, and I find myself drawing that scent in, studying his handsome face.

His eyes are full of outrage, but not only.

There is… interest there as he studies me right back.

This is getting weird. And like I said, I’m not into guys, especially not other alphas.

Okay, maybe I am, a little.

I shove him off me. “Look, she’s acting off. I’ve known her for years and she’s confident, relaxed, and outgoing. I’ve never seen her spooked before. I need to know what happened so that I can stop spooking her.”

“If you’re spooking her, that means you’re pushing her.”

“No, asshole,” I snap. “I only asked if she would like to go out, and she ran.”

“Ran? Where?”

“Out of the gym. My roommate saw you driving her home that night. So what the fuck happened?”

“Are you asking me if we fucked?” He sneers. “Is that why you’re here? Are you jealous, blondie? Wanna measure dicks? You’ll lose.”

“Fuck you. I’m here because I’m fucking worried about her, you dipshit.” I swallow hard. “If you think having money makes you untouchable, think again. If you’re the one who hurt her, I’ll bust your goddamn balls.”

I expect a comeback at best, a punch at worst, but the only thing that happens is that his brows shoot up.

“I… like you,” he says, sounding reluctant.

“Well, I don’t like you. Did you hurt her, motherfucker?”

His mouth twitches. Then his gaze hardens. “It wasn’t me.”

“So someone did? Who? I’m shaking with adrenaline and fury. “Who the fuck hurt her? I’ll kill him.”

“Get in line. In fact… step into my office. We have to talk.”

I bristle at the commanding tone. I’m an alpha myself. Just because I’m younger than him doesn’t mean he can order me around. However, I follow him, swallowing my pride, because he has answers for me.

I’m doing it for Coco, dammit. Because I’m getting really worried, more so after what he said.

On the office door, there is a sign that says Manager, Archer McGraw. That’s one of Gigi’s alphas. Atticus doesn’t even knock. He opens the door and I follow him inside.

Archer isn’t in. It’s a cozy, masculine space with leather armchairs and a dark mahogany desk.

“Should we be in here?” I ask, glancing around.

“Archer won’t mind. We share the space sometimes.” He props a hip against the desk and folds his arms over his chest.

And proceeds to tell me how two motherfucking assholes grabbed Coco, my Coco, muffled her screams and were about to carry her out of the bar and take her God knows where.

To do fuck knows what, though one can easily guess.

I’m going to be fucking sick.

“How did you let them inside?” I demand. “How did nobody stop them?”

“I’ll find them,” he says, his gaze glinting. “I swear it.”

“Those assholes will pay,” I growl. “I’ll skin them alive.”

“Yes,” he says. “Agreed.”

But he was right. Now I know what happened, how do I approach her without scaring her off?