Fucking Paxton. Even from the grave he brought shit to her life. “Is the fox dead?” If the answer was no, she’d be thoroughly happy to rectify that situation.
“My beast killed him.”
Jealousy pricked at her cat—she’d wanted that privilege. “Then I’m guessing he didn’t die easy. Good.” Holding the covers close to her chest, she slowly sat upright.
Alex frowned. “You should rest.”
“I feel groggy, not sleepy. I need coffee.” Conscious she was butt-ass naked, she hesitated to move. It wasn’t that she had any hang-ups about nakedness—she was a shifter; she was used to shedding her clothes in front of others. Still, she didn’t want him to think she was flaunting her body at him or something. “You realize I’m naked, right?”
His dark eyes heated. “You won’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” One brow flicked up. “Not shy, are you?”
Oh, she heard the challenge in those words. Well, if he thought she’d get all flustered about being naked in front of him, he was highly mistaken.
Bree slipped out of bed and, ignoring the heat and weight of his gaze, snatched a pair of panties and an oversized T-shirt from the drawer. Once she’d pulled them on, she turned to face him. Her breath caught at the predatory, smoldering glint to his bold stare. A glint that disappeared so fast she had to question if it had ever really been there.
Guessing he was probably eager to leave, she said, “Thank you for your help last night. You can go now. I’ll be fine.”
Bree headed to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Checking her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she almost groaned. Oh, the sight was super cringe-worthy. Her eyes were mere slits, her face was far too pale, and her hair was one big shaggy mess. Perfect. Just. Perfect.
Alex clasped the arms of the chair tight, fighting the urge to drag her out of the bathroom, toss her on the bed, and thrust inside her to assure himself she was alive in the most primitive of ways.
It didn’t matter that she was safe. His mind kept flipping back to that moment when he’d stalked into the alley only to find her cat being dragged along the ground. The memory made his blood run cold every time.
He remembered how her large amber eyes—their pupils oddly round like a human’s—had flicked to him just before he’d passed out. He’d seen pain, rage, and panic there.
Alex scrubbed a hand down his face. He was as pissed with himself as he was with whoever sent the fox after her. He’d fucked up. Huge. He should have taken extra precautions when she told him that the hyenas had approached her. He should have protected her better. But he hadn’t. He’d trusted Vinnie and his boys to have it covered, and she’d almost been kidnapped—the thought was enough to steal the breath from his lungs.
His animal’s muscles quivered with the need to leave, hunt down the threat to her, and fucking eradicate it. The beast had settled a little now that the smell of drugs no longer tainted her scent, but he hated that danger lurked over her; he wanted that danger gone yesterday.
Hearing his phone chime, Alex fished it out of his pocket. Mateo. Alex let the call go to voicemail, not in the mood to reassure the other male for the thousandth time that she was fine.
Elle had chased Mateo off the previous night—refusing to allow him inside the house, furious that he’d even try to enter. She didn’t seem to know what had led to the fallout between him and Bree, but she did seem to feel that Mateo was in the wrong.
Alex couldn’t imagine the guy ever harming Bree by word or deed. But when Mateo had appealed to Alex to allow him inside, Alex had instead told him to go home, promising to keep him updated on her condition. It wouldn’t have been fair to Bree if they’d allowed Mateo—someone she seemed to no longer trust—access to her while she was vulnerable.
Just then, the bathroom door swung open. Looking a little more alert than she had before, Bree stepped into the room. She frowned the moment she saw Alex. “Really, I’ll be fine on my own.”
“I didn’t say you wouldn’t be.”
She stared at him, drumming her nails on her thighs. Then she shrugged. “Whatever.”
That was too easy. Which worried him.
She pulled on a silky robe and then left the room, not quite steady on her feet. He knew if he offered to help, she’d chew a chunk out of his ass.
He followed her downstairs and into the kitchen, keeping a close eye on her. Her movements were slow and awkward as she prepped the coffee machine and grabbed a single mug from the cupboard—a clear message that she wanted to be alone. Amusement trickled through him. She should have remembered he wasn’t so easy to move along.
As she waited for the coffee to brew, she downed a glass of water as if it came direct from the fountain of youth.
Noticing she kept rubbing her temples, he searched her cupboards until he found pain reliever pills. He held out two. “Take these.”
She gave him a dubious look but took them, mumbling, “Thanks.” She swallowed the pills with what water was left in her glass. “I don’t know how to ask this without sounding bitchy, but … why are you still here?”
“I’m waiting for my mom to arrive,” he said, grabbing himself a mug from the cupboard and placing it on the counter beside hers. “Coffee’s ready, by the way.”
“Your mom’s coming?”
Alex poured coffee into both mugs and pushed one into her hand. “Yes. She’ll be here soon. She wants to check on you. I’ll stay until she gets here. I don’t want you alone while you’re not at one-hundred percent.”
Bristling, Bree felt her nostrils flare. She did not like that he acted as if she was his responsibility. “That’s not necessary, I’ll be fine by myself.”
“You know who I am. You know how I am. You know how shit works in my world. So if someone under my protection was almost kidnapped, do you think I’d go on about my day as if it never happened?”
No, she was pretty sure that he’d … And that was when it hit Bree. “You’re planning to go with Vinnie to visit the agency.”
“Yes. I need to fix my fuckup.”
Her brow furrowed. “What fuckup?”
“I should have kept a closer eye on you. I didn’t, and you almost paid for it. That’s not going to happen again.”
“You don’t bear any responsibility here. Vinnie and the boys will be all over this now. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll put guards on me—there are probably at least two outside. He’ll track down Marino and find out who the client is.”
“That’s the hope. Now, if he’s smart, the client will accept defeat, back off, and lay low for a while to elude Vinnie. If he’s not smart—and I’m going for ‘not,’ considering he chose to fuck with a pallas cat pride—he’ll try to find some other way to get to you. I’m not comfortable leaving you on your own when you’re not at full strength.”
She would have argued but, really, there was little point. He wasn’t going to budge on this—he’d used what James called “the wolverine tone.” Firm. Emotionless. Determined. Non-negotiable.
James never bothered to argue with Valentina or Alex when they spoke in that voice; he knew he’d never get them to change their mind. In fact, he often just threw up his hands and walked away.