1302 The Alpha (The 13th Floor) (2 page)

Another fifteen minutes brought her to the store, and Stefanie let the delight of browsing art supplies and books momentarily take her troubles away. She didn’t have to be into work at the butcher shop until eleven. That gave her an hour or so to lose herself to the feeling of soft new brushes and the hundreds of colors begging her to memorize every name.

Close to an hour went by and she found herself on the second floor running her fingers along the spines of used books. Subjects she’d never read like calculus and others she’d love to read like history and mythology.

“Need help finding anything?”

Stefanie shook her head before he even finished speaking. “No, thanks.”

She froze, the voice finally registering. It wasn’t one she’d ever heard before, but somehow it seemed familiar. She turned slowly as if rotating on a pedestal.

The young man who had asked the question wasn’t an employee. No tacky vest over a shirt with the collar up. He stood about three inches taller than her five foot seven and had a lean skateboarder’s body. Sneakers and jeans and a fitted argyle sweater. Black rimmed glasses and dark brown hair that was styled to look mussed.

Pretty damn good-looking if you were into that whole hipster thing. Argyle. Really?

In one hand, with his index finger holding his place, he held a comic book. Some boys just never grew up.

“Are you sure?” His smile was teasing, but it twitched. His muscles were tense, not matching his relaxed stance.

Hearing his voice again, Stefanie cocked her head to the side and breathed in deeply. A hint of incense, Old Spice deodorant, fresh mint as if he’d just popped one into his mouth before speaking to her, and under it, the scent of male. More of a male than he looked with that sweater.

A second breath and she caught it. The woods.

But she couldn’t smell wolf.

That wasn’t right. Her instincts were never wrong. Stefanie stepped closer, nose near his neck. He started to move back, but she snatched his shirt. “Don’t move.”

“Um, okay.” He stood still as she sniffed him and then cleared his throat. “May I ask your name before you decide to get any friendlier?”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing, but it was the wolf that had helped her. She tugged him farther back into the stacks where an overhead light had fizzled out. Only then did she let him go.

“How are you doing it?”

“What?” He blinked and then tried another smile on her. “You mean how did I just get a gorgeous woman to pull me into a dark corner to be alone?”

“I don’t play games, wolf.” Stefanie put her hands on her hips. Bigger wolves had cowered before her. Argyle would answer her questions whether he wanted to or not. If she could learn his trick, the pack would never find her. “Why can’t I get your scent? Even last night, it was barely there.”

He wet his lips and adjusted his glasses. Looking down, he fingered the corner of his book for about ten seconds before lifting his head again. “You’re much more forward than I’d have thought. I figured we’d talk a bit, maybe introduce ourselves, have a cup of coffee before we jumped into this.”

“We know who we are, and coffee only makes me aggressive. Tell me how you’re doing it.”

“Aggressive?” He raised his brows and almost grinned, but she scowled at him and chased it away. “I’m James, by the way. And you, with the sharp nose, may I ask your name?”

“No.” Stefanie snapped. “So, Jimmy, are you going to tell me or do I have to force you into submission?”

“It’s James.” The humor fled from his face, and she thought he looked disappointed. “You don’t have to do anything other than talk to me. The wolf who bit me taught me how to hide my scent. Didn’t your sire teach you?”

A hundred questions raced through her mind. She might be a rare female Alpha, but someone surviving a werewolf’s bite and becoming one was even rarer. He wasn’t lying, and he was being way too upfront about it with a stranger. Obviously James wasn’t taught that lone wolves were usually killed by packs. Not that she was part of a pack any longer.

“Sire? You’re reading too many comic books. And most wolves are born not made.” Stefanie sighed, not up to schooling him like a pup. He was in his early twenties, about her age. “Look, you know my situation. I need to hide. How are you hiding your scent?”

“Hey, this is a graphic novel.” James lifted the book and wiggled it a bit. He took a deep breath and tried another cute smile on her. This one produced a dimple. “I think we can learn a lot from one another. Why don’t we go somewhere and sit down, have a chat? I’d really like to talk to another wolf. I’ve only ever met my si— the one who bit me.”

It was tempting, and not only because she needed to learn how to hide her scent. Stefanie felt herself sway toward him involuntarily, as if drawn by a magnet. She’d been without a pack for so long, she craved the company of a lone wolf. She sensed his loneliness too. Lose the Argyle, he’d be pretty hot. Damn hot.

She shook her head. No, it wasn’t safe. Not for her and not for him. Wyatt would rip James apart just for being this close to her.

“I can’t.” Stefanie glanced at her watch. “Damn it. I’ve got to get to work. You,” she said and poked him in the chest. “Stay out of the woods. Stay away from the others. They’ll kill you on the spot.”

“It seemed like they wanted to kill you too. I can help, if you let me.” James held out his hand with the offer.

“What they’ve got planned for me is worse than death. You need to stay far away from them
and
me.” Stefanie pushed past him. She’d have to hurry to work now to be on time. She peered over her shoulder, feeling a tug. His eyes seemed big behind those glasses, rich brown with flecks of amber. They were trusting and hopeful.

It had been a long time since she felt that way. She sighed and stopped at the end of the row.

“I’ll come back here tomorrow morning. Will you be here?”

“Yes.” James perked up, bouncing onto his toes. If he was in wolf form, she was sure his tail would be wagging. Damn if the feeling wasn’t contagious. She was actually looking forward to seeing him again and not just to learn his little trick.

“All right. Stay under the radar until then, Jamie.”

“James.” His correction didn’t cause him to lose his smile this time. “May I have your name?”

Manners
and
good looks. She finally smiled. “Stefanie.”

Without a wave, she hurried out of the store and onto the street. The fresh air brought a wave of clarity. She shouldn’t have said she’d meet him again. It was too dangerous. His scent might be hidden, but hers wasn’t and her pack knew it very well. If they were searching the woods, they’d come into the city.

She needed to learn James’ trick. Tomorrow she’d meet him, get what she needed, and chase him off. Simple, no fuss. Maybe after the pack left the area, Stefanie could get to know James better. She found she liked that thought, a little too much.

No. It would never be safe for her. Not as long as Wyatt was alive. He’d always hunt for her. Any male that sniffed around her would be killed. And any female, she wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone.

CHAPTER 3

“Porter! You’re late.” Her boss’ bellow was as big as his belly. Thankfully there were only a few customers in the butcher shop. The lunch rush hadn’t started yet.

“Not late, boss. Right on time by my watch.” Stefanie didn’t bother unlatching the door under the counter. She hopped over, tied her hair back in a ponytail, and grabbed her apron.

Desmond continued to bitch at her as she washed her hands and stuffed them in a pair of plastic gloves. She tuned him out, breathing in the delectable smell of meat. Working here was the only reason she managed to eat so well. There were no second rate cuts in this shop.

Stefanie hadn’t many skills when she came to Carmine. She’d finished high school, but didn’t have a college degree. Art schools were too snooty. One thing she knew how to do very well was strip and dress dead animals. She could pick out the best cuts and tell when something was going bad before it even showed any signs. Much to Desmond’s dismay, she could lift half a cow and wield a knife better than he could.

Even with all that, he’d find a way to fire her for being consistently late other than the fact she took as much pride in the meat as he did. For that alone, she knew he respected her and kept her on despite what he called her smart-ass attitude.

Lunch was the busiest time of day, and only the two of them worked, but they kept the line moving steadily. Sometimes Desmond’s wife came in to help, but she wasn’t as in love with the meat as he was. On days she came in, she worked the register, but she was out shopping today, which likely added to Desmond’s foul mood.

It was nearly one when Stefanie caught his scent. Her heart skipped a beat and her hands stilled. She turned, trying not to look as frightened as she felt.

There he was in all his Alpha glory. Tall and broad, muscles like a young Arnold Schwarzenegger. His face was square but handsome. He might’ve made all the girls swoon if it wasn’t for his eyes. Not a lick of kindness in them.

Wyatt grinned at her.

She repressed a shudder and eyed the shop. Too many people were still there. And behind Wyatt, Scott lingered by the door. He was skinnier than when she last saw him on his nineteenth birthday. Scruffy and fidgety. Seemed like he hadn’t given up the drugs. Poor bastard.

The rest of the pack wouldn’t be too far away, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t beat Wyatt.

Desmond barked at her to get working and her hands started moving again. What the hell was she going to do? She had been idiotic to take a job at a butcher shop. Where else was the pack going to get food when they came to town? Wyatt wouldn’t settle for anything less than the best either.

Blood raced through her veins. She needed a plan. The back door? Maybe. The alley emptied out right by the shop, though. Wyatt might’ve been too dumb to notice.

Wyatt waited his turn, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. He even let an old lady go ahead of him, smirking the whole time.

Stefanie hated him. His smugness, his cruelty. She should just bury her knife in his forehead and do the world a favor. She wouldn’t survive being locked up, though. Did the state have the death penalty? She didn’t know. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t risk anything here, but she didn’t doubt he would.

Think, think, think. Back door. Run.

Wyatt stepped up to the counter. He placed his hands, palms down, on it, leaning in with one shoulder cocked. Stefanie felt a growl rising in her throat.

“Well, well. Long time no see, babe.” Wyatt chuckled. “I should have guessed you’d be working a job like this. You look good back there with all the meat.”

“Bite me.” She snarled.

“Oh, I will. I have.” Wyatt laughed and Scott echoed it.

“Stef?” Desmond stepped forward, wiping his hands on his apron. He was a big man, but Wyatt still towered over him. “You know this guy?”

“No,” she said the same time as Wyatt replied, “Yes.”

Damn Desmond. He needed to stay back and not provoke Wyatt. Oh, who was she kidding? Desmond had a mouth as smart as hers.

“Look, there’ll be no trouble in my shop. If you got some personal issues, you take them elsewhere.” Desmond puffed out his chest. It still didn’t extend past his gut. He glanced at Stefanie. “Tell me if you want this guy gone.”

Stefanie would have been touched by his concern, but Desmond was no threat to Wyatt. Though Wyatt might hurt him to hurt her, if he thought the butcher mattered to her.

“No need, thanks. I can handle myself.” Which meant running. And why wasn’t she out the door yet?

“Whatever you want to believe, babe.” Wyatt straightened up, narrowing his eyes at Desmond for a moment. Then he turned his gaze and awful grin back to Stefanie. “Cut us up some lunch and get your ass over here. Make it easy on yourself and don’t make a scene.”

Stefanie bolted. Running to the rear of the shop in the backroom, she heard Wyatt yell at Scott to get outside. She threw open the back door and almost ran into Matt. Seeing him hurt as much as seeing Wyatt. He snatched at her, and she barely managed to jump back out of his reach. She slammed the door and locked it.

She wanted to make certain to keep any wolf out. In the front, she heard Wyatt hop over the counter and Desmond shout at him. He used some impressive curse words, but his tirade was cut short. The sound of a fist hitting flesh was unmistakable.

Run. She had to get away. No back exit. Couldn’t go out the front. She couldn’t let him catch her. Not when she had finally gotten away.

The vent above her blew gently, swirling a few loose strands of hair around her face. Up!

Jumping, she grabbed the grate and pulled it off. There was no point in trying to hide what she was doing. She tossed it and jumped again, lifting herself up into the duct. Wyatt could follow, but it would be a much tighter fit for him.

Stefanie scrambled, coughing at the dust. She came to the junction. It went right to the front of the store and up. She stood, braced her knees, and climbed up. The sides were tacky. Maybe from grease or whatever. She was glad that Desmond hadn’t had the vents cleaned in a long while.

“Stefanie! Get back here, bitch!” Wyatt’s roar was amplified in the narrow confines. He banged on the sides by the opening in the backroom, but he didn’t follow.

Up to the roof. She wasn’t moving fast enough for her liking, but she didn’t want to risk falling. Once at the top, she pushed her knees and back more against the sides before using her palms to push at the center of the fan. It wasn’t on at the moment, thankfully. It went in cycles. She wasn’t going to give it a chance to switch on.

It didn’t take much effort to dislodge it. She shoved it up and through the outside grate. She’d no doubt Desmond had everything insured. He needed a new one anyway.

Ridding herself of her plastic gloves, Stefanie climbed onto the roof. There wasn’t a fire escape to climb down, but she bet the pack would have that covered. She was only two stories up. She could jump it easily, but again, the pack was down below.

The buildings on either side of the shop were taller. One was a brick wall and the other a billboard. All right, up again. She tossed off her apron.