Page 30 of Hunted Temptation (Alpha Nights: Unlikely Heroes #4)

HALE

SIX MONTHS AGO

“This puts you in danger,” Marlowe whispers.

Lifting my hand, I cup her cheek. “Don’t worry about me,” I murmur. “I’m only worried about you, sweetheart.”

God.

She’s beautiful.

And broken. At the minimum, damaged.

Which is likely why I’m so damn attracted to her. She reminds me of myself. Seeing her standing in that shithouse, I knew she was in deep trouble. She shakes her head and places her hand on her swollen belly. I watch as she looks over her shoulder at the house.

I hope she’s not having regrets, because if she does, if she goes back in there, there is nothing good that will come of it. I won’t be able to stop her, but I hope to fuck that she cares more about that baby in her belly than she does anything else in the world.

“I should stay,” she whispers.

“Do you want to stay?” I ask, my heart slamming against my chest.

If she says she wants to stay, I’ll let her, but since her shit is already at my house, I’ll probably hold it hostage until she comes to her senses and makes her way back to me—back to safety. I don’t know what that says about me, but I also don’t give a shit.

I’m selfish.

And Marlowe is the one I want.

Even if I haven’t told her yet.

“No, I don’t want to stay. I can’t stay. I can’t have this baby here. But you’re so nice. I don’t know if I can ever repay you for all your kindness.”

I almost tell her that I have about ninety-nine different ways she can repay me, and all of them include both of us being naked.

Naked and twisted like pretzels. I don’t say that, though.

I don’t want her to think that she has to fuck me to have a decent place to live, no matter how badly I want her.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I think about all the ways I want her. I should not be thinking of this woman this way right now. She’s pregnant with someone else’s baby. I shouldn’t find her sexually attractive, but I can’t help myself. I knew with one look that she was meant to be mine.

“I’m not that nice,” I mutter, trying not to moan at my own imagination.

She laughs softly as she curls her fingers around my forearm, squeezing me there. My cock twitches at the touch. This is going to be difficult, living with her and not fucking her in every corner of that safe house.

“Yes, you are, Hale. I don’t deserve your help, not even an ounce of it, let alone my baby.”

Lowering my head, I will my dick to calm the fuck down as I shift my mouth to her ear. I can smell her, and I want to kiss her, taste her, feel every ounce of her. I need every single inch of her.

Wrapping one arm around her, I press my palm against the center of her back, trying like hell not to haul her ass against my chest and take liberties that are not mine to take… yet. When I speak, my words come out in a whisper.

“Sweetheart,” I begin. “Let me help you. Accept what I’m giving to you.”

“Okay,” she finally relents.

Fuck , I want her.

I take a step backward as my lips curve up into a grin. “Let’s get the fuck home, then.”

“Home,” she whispers.

And with that, I load Marlowe into my SUV and take her home… well, to the safe house. Although I did give Vaughn strict orders not to ever just pop in from his inside entrance upstairs. In fact, I told him I’d shoot him on sight if he ever tried that shit.

MARLOWE

I don’t know why Hale is doing this for me, but I know why I agreed. Desperation . He’s this man who just showed up one day and kept coming back, day after day. I don’t know why he appeared, and I didn’t ask any questions, either.

I mainly just stayed quiet and observed because he’s so gorgeous that my tongue is tied up in knots around him. And also, I didn’t know if he was friends with my sister’s boyfriend. And any friend of his, I want zero part of.

This man… he’s not just attractive. He’s nice, like, beyond nice.

I keep waiting for him to show his true self.

He doesn’t have to help me, but he is choosing to out of the kindness of his heart, which I don’t understand at all.

He hasn’t asked me for a damn thing. Nothing.

He just says that he wants to help me and my baby so we can have a better life, so I can give him a better life.

I've never met someone who was simply nice because they wanted to be. Everyone wants something, and usually, whatever they want drains everything good inside you, so I’m not sure what his angle is, but at the same time, that simple word plays on repeat in my mind— desperation .

Hale is moving me out of the hood and straight into a mansion. Well, a condo, but the outside of the building is the nicest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and the condo itself is a castle compared to anywhere else I’ve lived or stayed.

I can’t imagine that he wants absolutely nothing from me, but since I’m eight months pregnant, I can’t even fathom what it would be. And I’ll worry about it another day. For now, I’m safe and warm. That’s all I care about.

Tomorrow, I’ll worry about whatever comes next. Maybe he wants me to be his house cleaner or something. I could do that. I could do just about anything if it meant my baby and I were safe.

Climbing into the front seat of the SUV, I look back at the house. It’s a ramshackle two-bedroom, one-bathroom place that has seen better days. It’s also not even mine. My sister and her boyfriend live there.

It’s a drug house.

I’ve been working full-time, plus overtime, for a year, trying to save enough to get out. I have enough money for a deposit on a better place, but I don’t make enough every month to actually keep up with the expenses, and I probably never will, not without some sort of education.

And I’ve got zero education.

I’m a shampooer at a salon. Originally, I had planned to go to cosmetology school. I was able to get funding for the classes, but not for living expenses. This was going to be my way out, but then I became pregnant.

One horrible night ended all my plans in an instant.

Sucking in a breath, I let it out slowly as Hale shifts the SUV into Drive and pulls away from the curb. I didn’t tell my sister I was leaving.

Honestly, I didn’t want her to know. I’ll deal with the fallout later. I didn’t want to deal with her crashing out on me, because that’s exactly what she would do, what she’s always done.

To say that Myla and I are trauma bonded is an understatement, but while she has turned to drugs and her boyfriend, who deals them, I have stayed far away from all those things.

Going to probably the extreme other side.

I don’t even drink, never have, same with drugs. I don’t like to party. I prefer to be alone with a good book rather than running around and drowning my sorrows in booze, drugs, and men.

My phone buzzes in my purse, and I close my eyes as I reach inside. Nobody texts me ever, except Myla. I take the device out of my bag and tilt my chin down, opening my eyes to see the notification. It’s exactly what I thought: a new text message from Myla.

MYLA: Where R U?

I left. I can’t be there with a baby.

My words are the truth.

MYLA: You know I fucked that guy.

I know she’s referencing Hale. I don’t know what they did together. He’s never offered, and I’ve never asked. But it doesn’t surprise me either. It shouldn’t matter… It doesn’t matter. That’s what I tell myself. It doesn’t matter. I’m not sleeping with him. I’m not in a relationship with him.

He’s just someone helping me out.

I know.

MYLA: Enjoy sloppy 2nds. Bitch.

And that is my sister. She’ll text me another day, maybe won’t even remember this conversation when she does. Dealing with her moods has been something I’ve navigated since we were kids.

Even before the drugs, when we were just two kids in a shitty household, she was this way.

She’s always been this way. Instead of talking to anyone, instead of telling someone how she feels, she lashes out in anger and never kindness.

I’ve been the opposite, probably why she doesn’t get taken advantage of the way I seem to always do.

Hale’s hand slides across the car, and his fingers curl around mine before he squeezes. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask me any questions. It’s as if he knows, understands, and it makes me wonder what kind of past he has.

I watch as he takes the phone from my hand and, without a word, tosses it out the window. I gasp at the move, unsure of what’s just happened before his fingers squeeze mine again.

“I saw the look on your face. No doubt it was Myla saying something stupid. You want to call her from my place, you’re more than welcome to. You can even give her the number. But twenty-four-seven access to create that look on your face again, no fucking way.”

Wow .

I don’t know if I should be happy, offended, or upset.

I choose happy because without Myla’s nasty messages, and without my phone, maybe I won’t feel so nervous all the time.

Maybe I can actually be happy. Maybe I won’t feel so sick, so absolutely terrified that he’s going to come back. That he’s going to come for me.

Come for my baby.