Page 12 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

The screen’s brightness stabs at me even through the sunglasses, and I squint as I hit his icon. “He’s probably itching to get back on the water to do some afternoon fishing.”

The phone rings twice before Kyle’s gruff voice answers. “Hey, we’re about?—”

“Dom, you there?” Kyle’s voice crackles through the phone, the reception in the parking garage breaks his words apart.

I walk a little way toward the exit for a better connection. “Can you hear me now?”

“Sure can, and I have bad news if you’re hoping for a ride. The water taxi’s making a sound like a whale giving birth. Mechanic says it’ll be at least three hours before we can head back.”

I glance at Chloe to find her inspecting the concrete pillars and parked cars like she expects a threat to leap out of the shadows. Something’s wrong beyond our transportation troubles.

“Three hours?” I confirm, watching as Chloe’s knuckles go white around the strap of her purse.

“Minimum.” Kyle’s sigh transmits as static. “Might be longer. Some issue with the propeller shaft. I’m at the marina now watching them pull it out of the water.”

I rub my temple where pain pulses like a second heartbeat. “All right. Call when you know more.”

“Will do. How’s your head?” The concern in Kyle’s voice warms me.

“Nothing serious. Just Post-Concussion Syndrome.” I keep my attention on Chloe, who keeps scanning the garage, her body tense as a drawn bow. “I’ll explain later.”

We disconnect, and I slip the phone back into my pocket, fingers brushing the hard object hidden there as I stride back to her.

“Well, it appears we have some time to kill after all.” I step closer to Chloe, lowering my voice. “That lunch offer still stands.”

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth as anxiety radiates from her, causing me to frown.

“Chloe.” I keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline now mixing with the pain in my skull. “What’s wrong? ”

She releases her lip, the plump flesh now bruised. “My mother ambushed me earlier.”

“When?” Alarmed, I scan the garage myself now, searching for the dark pink hair that complements Chloe’s lighter shade.

“While you were back in x-ray.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot. “I’m pretty sure she’s having me followed.”

My jaw clenches so tight my teeth grind. “Let’s go to the car.”

I place my hand at the small of her back, not pushing but guiding, my touch light enough that she can step away if she wants.

She doesn’t. Instead, she moves with me, our steps quickening in unconscious synchrony as we weave between parked vehicles. The SUV we keep at the docks for town use sits in the far corner of the level, black and nondescript.

“Keys?” I hold out my hand, and Chloe fumbles in her purse.

When she drops them into my palm, her fingers brush mine, sending electricity up my arm despite the circumstances. I press the unlock button twice, watching as the lights flash.

I scan the area once more before I open the driver’s side door. “Are you okay to drive? Or do you need me to? ”

“No, I’m fine.” She lets me help her up into the seat, needing to hop a little to get inside, and she doesn’t protest when I buckle her in before I shut the door.

I circle around, never taking my attention off our surroundings until I’m inside with the door locked.

Then I turn to Chloe. “Did she hurt you?”

“Only my emotions.” She rubs her wrist, where I spot red welts now that I’m looking.

Rage boils inside me, my head pounding harder. “Did you call the police?”

“No.” Her fingers curl around the steering wheel but she doesn’t start the engine. “But I threatened to.”

My heartbeat slows a little. “What did she want?”

Chloe’s bitter laugh holds no humor as she stares through the windshield at the concrete wall ahead. “Money, what else?”

The thought of Vivian Sinclair anywhere near Chloe infuriates me, but the disappointment on Chloe’s face, the hurt from a mother who only shows up when she wants something, has me aching to pull her into my arms. I grip the door handle instead, the metal cool beneath my palm .

“What did you tell her?” I ask, my tone neutral when I want to rage.

“That she’s not getting another penny from me.” Her voice turns hard as flint. “I’m done with her.”

Relief mixes with my admiration for her strength. “Good.”

Her brow pinches, a question in the look she sends me.

“Good that you’re putting yourself first,” I clarify.

Her shoulders relax, but the tension doesn’t leave her completely. She nibbles her lip again, a habit she has when she’s holding back.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

Her gaze drops to her hands. “She also wanted to renegotiate.”

“Renegotiate what?”

“Me.” The word is so quiet I almost miss it. “Louie’s younger brother is open to the same deal she offered the previous head of the Santaro pack.”

Rage hits me like a physical blow, a roar of blood in my ears drowning out the pain in my head. My vision tunnels, darkening at the edges. The Santaro family, daring to reach for her again. And her own mother, facilitating it like she’s brokering a business deal instead of her daughter’s life.

“Dominic?” Chloe’s voice comes from far away. “Your scent is…”

I struggle to rein in my pheromones, aware I’m filling the car with the bitter scent of citrus burned to ash. My hands clench and unclench on my thighs.

“Sorry.” I force air through my nose, trying to calm myself. “I just—the idea of you with any Santaro?—”

“It’s not happening.” She reaches across the center console and, to my shock, places her hand on mine. “I told her I’m already in a courtship. That I’ve made my choice.”

The anger recedes, replaced by a fierce pride. She’s claimed our courtship publicly, to her mother of all people. The significance isn’t lost on me.

I turn my hand beneath hers so our palms meet, not quite holding hands but not far from it. “What did she say to that?”

“Nothing worth repeating.” Chloe’s laugh is small but more genuine this time. “It was only about herself and what she’s owed. I’m done with it.”

“Do you think she’ll try again?”

“Probably.” She sighs and slips her hand from mine to take the car keys back. “She’s nothing if not persistent when she wants something.”

The desire to protect her swells within me. I want to tuck her in my arms where nothing can reach her, not her mother, not the Santaro family, not the world that’s been cruel to her for too long.

But I know better than to mistake vulnerability for invitation. She’s opening up to me, yes, but trust is fragile, especially when I already broke her trust once.

“We won’t let her near you.” I keep my voice level despite the intensity of my feelings. “None of us will.”

She studies my face, her gaze lingering on my mouth. “I know.”

The simple faith in those two words hits me harder than any declaration of affection could.

She starts the engine, the SUV humming to life around us. “So what now? We’ve got three hours to kill, and I’d rather not sit in a parking garage the whole time.”

The lump in my pocket grows heavier, reminding me of its presence. I’d planned to give it to her over lunch, in some quiet restaurant where we could talk without interruption. Now that plan, like so many others, has been derailed.

“We could still do lunch,” I suggest, though with less enthusiasm than before. The encounter with her mother has changed the tenor of the day. “We could leave the city and find somewhere an hour away from here.”

Chloe’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, her nails pressing into the leather. “I’d rather not be out in public right now, even with more distance. I don’t know what lengths my mother will go to. An hour might not be far enough to dissuade her, since the restraining order didn’t stop her.”

I understand her need for safety after feeling hunted. “Want to head to my hotel room?”

The offer is innocent enough. I keep a small suite in town for occasions when I need to be on the mainland overnight. But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how they might sound.

“Just to wait,” I add before she misunderstands. “Until Kyle calls.”

She shakes her head and hesitates, chewing her lip again. “Actually, my apartment isn’t far from here.”

My heart skips a beat, then races to catch up. “Your apartment?”

“I still have it through the end of the month.” She shifts in her seat, not quite looking at me. “We can order delivery and wait there.” A blush spreads across her cheeks, a delicate pink to match her hair. “If you want.”

If I want. As if there’s any question. As if I haven’t been aching for more time alone with her since the day she agreed to our courtship.

“I’d like that,” I say, careful to keep my tone neutral despite the way my pulse thunders in my veins. “Lead the way.”