Most omegas have cloying scents that remind me of desserts, but her scent could pass for one of those shaved-ice drinks that you enjoy on a blistering summer day.
I lick my lips, freezing in my tracks as my eyes widen.
She’s a scent match, and a potent one at that.
My instincts scream to get as close to her as possible. That way, I’d have a better chance of huffing hits of that sweet cherry and lime smell of hers as I bury my teeth into her soft little body.
She’s curvy—most omegas are—but I get a nice view of her ass as she shoves the plastic bin into the storage area of her vehicle.
Shaking my head, I try to force away the irrational thoughts. Being an alpha is a real pain in the ass at times. Our instincts rarely align with what’s expected in polite society, and they almost never make sense.
I haven’t even met the woman, and my canines ache with the need to claim her.
I step onto the sidewalk, keeping my steps light as I approach. There’s no way to get this introduction out of the way without scaring the hell out of her, so it’s probably better to rip off the Band-Aid.
“Charlotte?” I ask, keeping my tone light and friendly.
The woman squeaks, spinning around and jabbing a gun at my chest.
I’m surprised but always on alert.
My hands fly to cup hers as she continues to aim at my heart.
Thank fuck she hasn’t pulled the triggeryet. Everything in me screams to push her hands to the side, but if she’s startled and pulls the trigger, I won’t be fast enough. A bullet can tear through my chest before I can change her trajectory.
I stay as calm as possible as I say, “My name is Patrick O’Connor. Wilder sent me to keep an eye on you. Your friend…” I rack my brain for the woman’s name, but now that my adrenaline is pumping, it’s hard to focus. “Laney asked us to watch out for you and your son.”
“Lacey?” she chokes out, blinking rapidly. Her hands shake violently, and even though it’s frigid, I believe it’s fear rather than the cool temperature that has her trembling.
“Right,Lacey. The woman who was attacked last night after the Christmas festival.” I keep my eyes locked on hers, willing her to listen to me. “Today, she was followed by a group of men in a blacked-out SUV. Obviously the guys Grim disposed of last night had friends. Those friends are now looking for answers about what happened to their associates.”
“Wait, what?” she whispers, her eyes widening. “She was attacked? She told me they watched her walk to the bus stop… Did you saydisposed ofas inkilled?”
I grimace.
Someone really should have let me in on what they decided to pass along to her.
Another thought dawns on me a half second too late. If she didn’t know Lacey was attacked, why is she running?
Unless…
Charlotte is afraid those thugs were actually after her.
“Three men attacked her in an alley as she walked to the bus stop. Luckily, Wilder had one of his men keeping an eye on her. He was able to step in?—”
“I knew something was off when I talked to her earlier,” Charlotte says shakily. “Is she okay?”
Perhaps my assumption was a stretch?
Did she pick up on the weird energy and know Lacey was lying to her about what happened?
Is that why she’s trying to bolt in the middle of the night?
Something isn’t adding up.
“She will be,” I say, keeping my voice low and soothing. Her terror has turned her scent acrid, and it’s setting my instincts even further on edge. “Wilder, Callum, and Grim are with her. They sent me to keep an eye out for you until they can assess the threat and handle it.”
“You’re from the security company?”
