Alpha’s Obsession Read online

  “It’s true. You know it,” Sam keeps his arms spread, hiding me from Declan’s murderous gaze. “She’s a good person.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Declan snarls. “How’d ya get working in that place?”

  “I was in a lab.” I wring my hands. “I never met any patients. They delivered the cells. I ran tests. They didn’t tell me what they were doing.”

  “Patients. Is that what they called them? Test subjects. Prisoners,” Declan spits. Laurie’s pressed up against the wall, muttering to himself. “Atrocities in the name of science. Every test you ran was tainted with blood. People paid with their lives.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Sam says firmly.

  But he’s wrong. I should’ve asked more questions. Should’ve questioned the high security. I was blind to it.

  “Layne didn’t know anything about that. And now she’s in danger, as much as me.”

  “As much as all of us,” Declan shoots back. “There’s a reason we live in the middle of nowhere, bettin’ on shifter fights for a living. Our animals are broken. Because of you, we escaped, but we’ve been laying low ever since. We’re waiting for the day they find us.”

  “That’s not gonna happen,” Sam’s jaw clenches.

  “No? What are ya gonna do about it, wolf?”

  “After I took their files, I released a bug to wipe their hard drives. All their data’s gone, even the cloud backup. The virus will infect any computer that tries to access the files.”

  I can’t help the wash of cold that floods my veins. Even with my guilt, I don’t want to see my data wiped. Sam is now my only link to that research.

  We’ll find a compromise, he promised.

  Declan whistles. “You’re a wanted man, runnin’ on borrowed time.”

  “I need to find Nash,” Sam says.

  “All right then. Let’s find him.” Declan whips a cap out of his back pocket and sets it on his head. “Laurie and I will take ya to the Pit. Parker will know where Nash is.”

  “Parker?” Sam asks.

  “That’s right,” Declan rubs his hands together. “Gonna see a dog about a lion.”

  7

  Layne

  The Pit is a warehouse made of cinderblocks in a mostly abandoned industrial area of San Diego.

  Declan and Laurie enter first, the taller man having to duck to get through the door. There are no windows, nothing but a dark doorway, and a strong earthy smell. Smells like fur, and animals. My footsteps slow.

  Before we go in, Sam tugs my hand and pulls me to the side. “This might be dangerous.”

  “More dangerous than getting shot at?”

  “Yeah.” He licks his lips. “Listen, Layne, I wouldn’t bring you in here, except I’m afraid to leave you anywhere unprotected and I don’t have resources here in California.”

  “No, I’m glad. What Data-X is doing, it’s evil.” I think of Laurie’s twitching and Declan’s wild eyed response to finding out I worked there. Sam’s scars. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m in.”

  “All right. Stay close to me. Do what I say, no questions asked.”

  A few big guys lumber into the building, looking me up and down, and I step closer to Sam. “Fine.” I might take exception to his authoritative tone, only the memory of that morning’s spanking comes flooding back.

  In a wolves’ world, disobedience is met with punishment.

  Almost makes me want to disobey. But now is no time to mess around.

  He offers his hand and I take it. Together we enter the Pit.

  The animal smell is thicker. Smoky light filters through the large room. When my eyes adjust, I see it’s a bar, with tables surrounded by the big hulking guys I saw enter earlier.

  From one table, Laurie gives us a wave. I ignore the stares I’m getting and hang onto Sam as we go to the tall, nervous man.

  “Here ya are, mates,” Declan sets down four pints.

  I pick up a pint and squint at the golden liquid. Sam catches my eye and shakes his head, not that I need any encouragement to put the glass back down.

  Declan downs his, smacking his lips. “Ya gonna drink that?” he asks me, and I push the glass to him. “Is this the Pit?” I look around the dimly lit room. “Looks like a bar.”

  “There’s more here than meets the eye.” Declan winks at me, and turns as one of the big guys comes over to loom at his shoulder. “You the numbers man?” the guy grunts.

  “I am,” Declan declares. “Off duty tonight.”

  The guy holds up a wad of cash. “My pack’s got twenty large to put down on Nash.”

  “I could open for a few. Back in a mo’.” Declan and the guy head over to the corner where they put their heads together.

  Laurie pulls off his glasses and polishes them. The lenses are super thick. No wonder he looks bug-eyed.

  “Are those prescription?” I ask him.

  “My own design,” he says. “The experiments left me almost blind in bright daylight. I still have perfect night vision, though.”

  I’m about to ask him another question, when Declan returns. Pushing up on tiptoe, he whispers something into the tall man’s ear. Laurie nods, and pulls out a battered notebook, marking something down.

  Sam pretends to ignore them both, so I do the same. More people come into the bar, but the room never gets more crowded.

  Declan keeps getting pulled away. Every time he returns, he and Laurie hold a whispered meeting, ending with Laurie marking something down in his book.

  “Good night for you,” Sam says to Laurie after Declan is pulled away again.

  “It always is, when Nash fights,” Laurie replies.

  “Do people know you’re the real numbers man?”

  Laurie shakes his head. “Declan wants it that way. He can defend himself.”

  “You’re a predator, too,” Sam points out.

  “Not like you. I-I mean, I’m better at quick getaways.”

  I half listen, wondering what they’re talking about while I keep an eye on a new group of big, burly biker-types who are arguing near our table. They all wear a single earring—a white bone of some kind. Their jackets have a roaring big cat and script that declares them The Fangs. Two of them get into a fight, pushing at each other. Declan dodges one as the dirty blond biker almost lands in his path.

  “Fecking cats,” he says when he’s with us again. “Ya ready?”

  Sam nods. Laurie leads the way, followed by Sam, who keeps an arm around me.

  “Remember what I told you,” he murmurs into my ear.

  We head to the back of the bar, where Laurie pulls open a side door. A blast of noise and warmth makes me pause. A set of stairs leads down into darkness. The animal smell is stronger here.

  “Rough crowd tonight,” Declan says. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ye.” I glance back, and the dark-haired Irishman winks at me. It does nothing to steady my nerves as Sam escorts me down into the pit of the Pit.

  My eyes adjust to the even dimmer light. Bodies are packed in the cavernous room deep underground, both in the stands and pressed against the chain links of a giant fence. As Declan pushes forward, Sam keeps an arm around my waist.

  I’ve never had a boyfriend, so the gesture should be foreign, yet it feels easy and right. It’s like Sam has always been here at my side, intense and protective. On his mission to exact justice and keep me safe at the same time.

  “Stay close to me,” he mutters in my ear, and I have no problem remaining pressed against his lean, hard body. Being so close to him makes me feel alive and feminine. My nipples pebble up and scrape against my bra when I think of the raw power moving beside me.

  As we get closer, people seem to recognize Declan and make way. Two fighters spar in the fenced square, sweaty bodies gleaming in the spotlights.

  “The Cage,” Declan says, and Sam tightens his grip on me.

  A few spectators shout and pound on the metal links, but for the most part th
e audience is milling about, talking, arguing, finding seats. Declan soon gets pulled away for more bets.

  One of fighters, a lumbering hulk with a scar slashed across his face, darts forward and slams his fist in his opponent’s face. The second fighter staggers back in a shower of red spray, pawing the air.

  I wince, sickened.

  “First blood,” someone calls in a bored voice. A few people turn to watch the fighters lumber around each other. A few feints, and they dive in, smashing at each other with brutal blows.

  “Sloppy.” A silver-haired man standing between us and the bars shakes his head. He turns away from the cage fight, and I do a double take, because he’s a young guy to have grey hair, thick as it is.

  “Parker,” Declan appears at our side again. “I have some people for ya to meet. Sam and Layne.”

  Sam offers his hand, keeping his arm around me as they shake.

  Parker narrows his eyes at me. “She doesn’t belong here.”

  Sam tightens his hold on me. “She’s my responsibility.”

  “They want to speak to Nash,” Declan says.

  “About what?”

  “Data-X,” Sam says. Suddenly, we’re the center of a few hostile stares. Those around us edge away, nervous mutters spreading through the crowd.

  Parker throws back his grey head and laughs, a raucous sound with a slightly hysterical edge. He sounds like a hyena. “Not gonna happen.”

  “It’s important.” Sam shifts. I put my hand on his chest, not that I can physically stop him from leaping on Parker. My touch seems to calm Sam.

  “There’s no reason to be a dick about it,” I say to Parker, who blinks at me with new respect.

  Parker shrugs. “Nash talks to no one. I set up his fights, and he barely speaks to me.”

  A roar sounds behind us, and we turn. I gasp. Instead of the first fighter, a huge silverback gorilla with a scar slashed across its face is in the ring, hanging on the metal fence. The crowd shouts approval as the animal leaps on the remaining fighter still in human form.

  “Rookie,” Declan scoffs.

  “Mmm,” Parker agrees. “Letting your animal out is an instant disqualification,” he explains to me and Sam. My mouth hangs open as the gorilla chases the fighter around the ring.

  Gorilla’s fists beat human flesh, and I wince, half turning away.

  “You all right?” Sam asks, tucking me into his side and brushing my hair back.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Never seen a shifter fight before?” Parker asks. His eyes glitter silver.

  I swallow. “No.”

  “You’re in for a treat,” Declan rubs his hands together. “Nash is the best.”

  “He is,” Parker says. “Excuse me.” He heads to the cage, signaling two beefy guys holding cattle prods to follow him. They enter the cage, the two enforcers crowding the gorilla while Parker lifts the bloody man’s arm, proclaiming him the winner.

  “He’s the winner?” I ask in disbelief as Parker helps the fighter limp off the stage. “He could’ve died!”

  Declan shrugs. “That’s the part of the entertainment.”

  The enforcers get the gorilla out of the cage, and the spotlights cut off. Neon lights sweep the crowd, accompanied by a primal drum beat.

  “Almost time,” Laurie tells us. “They just have to get the blood off the floor.”

  A trio of curvy, barely clad women in leopard print bikinis step into the cage, holding buckets. We all step back as they toss the soapy contents around, and start mock wrestling in the suds. Meanwhile, a few nondescript workers in jumpsuits enter with mops and actually clean the floor.

  “Classy,” I roll my eyes.

  Laurie and Declan are transfixed. Sam takes it all in with the same stone face he always wears.

  “We’ll leave as soon as I can talk to Nash,” Sam assures me.

  “I’m all right.” I frown as someone jostles me. “Just getting a little claustrophobic.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you,” Sam promises.

  We find seats in the stands, squeezing next to more big guys making bets. As the minutes pass and the place fills up, I’m practically in Sam’s lap.

  The cage is empty when the lights come back up.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Parker’s voice booms around the place. Immediately, people quiet. “The fight you’ve been waiting for. Tonight’s contender is a visitor from the north. The Bruiser.”

  A giant pushes into the cage and raises his massive arms to accept the cheers and boos.

  “Bear shifter,” Laurie tells us.

  “He’ll be facing the reigning alpha of this ring, here to defend his pride: The King of the Beasts.”

  The place erupts. The air vibrates as if the whole building is shaking. I cringe against Sam as the men on the benches around us howl, stamping their feet. The chain-link fence shakes as people beat at it, and a few fans start climbing it. Enforcers snap cattle prods at them until they fall back into the crowd.

  The spotlight whizzes to the fighter’s entrance.

  “That’s him.” Laurie points, but at first I miss Nash’s entrance. Sam and I push up, standing on our bleachers to see.

  Nash is wearing military fatigues, powerful bare chest, tattooed and scarred. Square jaw, short cropped light hair, he could be an All-American soldier but for the yellow light in his eyes.

  “He was military, special forces,” Sam explains, as the crowds part to let Nash through, chanting his name. Someone tries to put a crown and purple cape on him, but he waves them off, ignoring everything as he walks towards the fighting ring.

  “No one fights like Nash,” Declan breaths. “No one.”

  “He was a hero before he ended up at Data-X,” Laurie says. “Now his lion is crazy.”

  Nash isn’t as emaciated as he was in the last video I saw of him, but the memory of pain is clear in his fixed gaze. Whatever Data-X did to him, his body and soul will forever bear the scars.

  I clutch at Sam, my heart suddenly aching.

  “Layne?” Sam’s voice finds my ear.

  I press my cheek against his, gripping his shirt. “I’m going to help you take them down,” I say in his ear, and pull back so he sees the serious look on my face. He studies me, but doesn’t ask who ‘they’ are. He doesn’t have to. “I want them to pay.”

  A pause, and he nods. His eyes glitter with an unnatural light.

  I lay my hand against his cheek before turning to watch the fight begin.

  As Nash approaches, the bruin hunches his back and growls. Nash doesn’t blink, nodding at Parker before entering the ring.

  “You know the rules. No animals. As long as you’re on your feet, you fight,” Parker announces.

  The bruin and the soldier face off, circling each other. Compared to his opponent, Nash is lithe and lean, tall but not towering. The bruin dances forward, fists snapping out, and Nash dodges them easily, moving just as much as he has to and not an inch more. His golden gaze never leaves his opponent’s face.

  “He’s never lost a fight. Never goes more than three rounds, and never lets the lion out,” Declan breathes without taking his eyes from the fight. “Perfect control.”

  “No,” Laurie twitches. “He’s holding on as long as he can. When his lion does get out, everyone around him will die.”

  I shiver and press closer to Sam.

  The bruin gets tired of circling and blusters forward, fists swinging. Nash steps out of the way, but as the bruin turns to charge again, the soldier plants his feet and drives his fist into the bruin’s scarred face. The bruin staggers back. The crowd surges to its feet, screaming.

  The bear shifter staggers to the edge of the ring, shaking his head. Facing Nash, he roars, showing long, yellow teeth.

  “Oh my God,” I gasp as the bruin bowls forward again, driving Nash back. “He’s shifting.”

  Sam’s arms squeeze me tighter. “Not yet.”

  Nash dodges all the bruin’s swings, his face blank in contrast to
Bruiser’s contorted snarl. The bear shifter’s punches go wide, sloppy, and Nash steps forward, planting his feet, and hits him with a haymaker that drives the bruin half across the ring.

  “Yeah!” Declan cheers.

  My heart pounds as Nash goes on the offensive, raining blow after blow on the bruin. His opponent gets a few hits in and Nash absorbs them like he’s made of concrete. Around the ring, the faces in the audience contort, shouts turning to snarls. Inside the ring, blood flows. The bruin slips on the red-slicked floor.

  The two fighters fall back from each other. Nash has taken a hit—a bit of bruising and a trickle of red on his face. Meanwhile, the bruin is hunched over and breathing hard.

  “All hail the King of the Beasts,” someone shrieks. The sound is high pitched, female. Nash turns his head.

  The bruin strikes, plowing forward. One arm extends, half covered in fur. Nash snaps back and hits him in the face. A bear bursts out of Bruiser, a massive grizzly with paws the size of my head. Its four legs hit the ground and shake the ring.

  “No,” I cry, jerking up. Sam holds me tight.

  “Forfeit, forfeit,” Parker shouts, but the announcement is drowned out by the shouting crowd. Nash faces the giant animal, his strong body impossibly dwarfed by the bruin.

  I bite back a scream. The bruin charges. Nash stands his ground, whipping aside at the last minute, grabbing the arm of the grizzly as it goes by. The limb breaks with a sickening crunch. The bruin ends up on its back where Nash smashes its head into the concrete floor.

  It happens so fast I could’ve blinked and missed it. The fight’s over. The bruin lies limp. The crowd screams, stomps, hoots. Parker cries victory into the microphone. Declan is beside himself. Even Laurie claps.

  Nash props one foot on the bruin’s chest, throws back his head, and roars. The sound swells, filling the space. Every hair on my body stands up. People are standing, pulling up the bleachers and smashing them. Suddenly, Sam jerks. “Hold her,” he orders Laurie, and thrusts me into the tall man’s arms. He heads for Parker, who is mobbed, trying to shout announcements into a megaphone that the crowd can’t hear.

  Sam grips Parker and swings him around. “Nash! I need to talk to Nash.”