Romancing the Alpha: An Action-Adventure Romance Boxed Set (93 page)

“I’m no good for her and she’s far too good for me. We both knew from the start this was only a bit of fun on the side. Fun’s over. I’ve gotta go. I can’t miss this flight. Thanks for always being fabulous. I’ll see you next year.” He leaned down and gave Karen a big hug.

She squeezed back and whispered, “Stay safe, and if you ever decide you want to reconnect with her, I’ll help.”

He released his friend without looking at her and dashed through the airport to the check-in counter. He couldn’t afford to get emotional. He had a job to do, and he needed to get his shit together. While he didn’t know the specifics of what lay ahead, he had enough experience to have a fairly good idea of what to expect, and one small lapse in judgement could be disastrous. It was time to move on to the next war and the next woman.

***

Biddy knew something was wrong the minute she opened the door. The house had taken on a decidedly sombre tone. It was suppertime. There should have been loud voices and laughter. Instead she was met with silence. She forced herself to walk through to the kitchen where she immediately noticed the empty chair where Doug should be.

Karen crossed the room and guided Biddy to the living room. Until that point, she was more confused than worried. “Sit down and I’ll explain,” Karen said.

“Explain what?”

“Doug got called away. Some war broke out somewhere and he had to go film it. He said to tell you he was sorry he didn’t have time to say a proper goodbye.”

“Karen, you don’t need to lay down a thick layer of bullshit to break my fall. He hightailed it out of here as fast as he could pack his gear. I’m a big girl. I walked into this with my eyes wide open and I knew there wouldn’t be a fairy tale ending. I gave up on happily ever after a long, long time ago. Is there anything else I need to know, or can we go back to the kitchen? I’m starved.”

“Busted.” Karen gave her a pat on the knee. “Well, you know where I am if you need me.”

“I do. And thanks. I appreciate you trying to break it to me gently. I can only assume you’ve had to mend a few broken hearts he’s left behind.”

“There may have been a time or two where a little comfort was required. Come on then, let’s go eat.”

Biddy could barely admit to herself that she’d become emotionally entangled with Doug, let alone to anyone else. She held it together through supper and retreated to her room at the first opportunity.

More than two weeks of fucking and sucking the same guy and she was ruined. It couldn’t be love. It was too soon for feelings that big, but it had to be something more than lust. It hurt more than a little that he left without saying any kind of goodbye. Her head knew a clean break was better. Her heart knew no such thing.

She flopped on her bed and felt something under her head as it hit the pillow. She reached up and pulled out Doug’s dog tags.

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she struggled to cope with the mess of feelings welling up inside her. How was she supposed to deal with mixed messages like his? Constantly telling her the only relationship they had was the one between his cock and her holes. Then he goes and leaves his fucking dog tags. His good luck charm. He’d told her how he always wore them because they kept him safe. And while he had no proof that was true, he was alive and in one piece, so he also had no proof that it wasn’t.

Fuck. What if he got hurt or killed? It would be all her fault. She needed to return them to him. Pronto. He was going to a war zone. How the fuck was she supposed to get them delivered to a fucking war zone. Bastard. She would not take the blame if something bad happened. She didn’t ask for them. She didn’t fucking want them.

She’d talk to Karen in the morning. She’d know what to do. In the meantime, Biddy decided she may as well wear them. She sat up on the bed and slipped the chain over her head and under her t-shirt. The tags hung between her boobs. That made her feel kind of hot and didn’t that just add to that mixed up mess of feelings?

She eyed her phone and thought about calling Honeycunt, but thought better of it. Instead of getting the sympathetic ear while she gushed on ad nauseam about her broken heart, she would more likely end up getting a full-on interrogation. Honeycunt always meant well, but sometimes she was too much.

Like she’d said to Karen, she was a big girl. She’d have to suck it up and get through this on her own.

Morning came way too early when you spent half the night trying not to cry and the rest of it failing miserably until you fell asleep. Biddy wanted to ignore the knocking on the door, but if she didn’t answer, Karen would waltz right in.

“I’m awake. I’ll be down soon.” Fuck, her voice was croaky. Not that it mattered. Her red, puffy eyes would give her away the minute she joined the rest of the crew for breakfast.

She was was in the middle of tying her shoes when there was a more frantic banging on her door. “Biddy, hurry up, they’re herding the whales. We’ve got to run. I’ll meet you in the car with food and coffee.”

“Two minutes.” She’d been here over two weeks, and this was the first hunt since her first day, when Doug had dumped her at REN House and gone to film on his own.

When she stood, her knees felt shaky and weak. Her heart was thudding hard and fast. Holy shit. This was it. What she’d come here to do. Film the slaughter so the world could see what went on here.

She slipped on her jacket and grabbed her camera bag, then bounded down the steps two at a time and flew out the front door. The moment she jumped into the idling truck, they were off.

Meike said, “I know you’ve been told how to handle this, but we need to go over it again. Whatever happens, do not engage. Don’t talk. Don’t touch. We’re there to observe and take photos. Absolutely nothing else. You will be taunted and verbally abused. You may get pushed. They may try to take your camera away. Do not react. Do what you can to avoid them and keep control of your camera. Nothing more.”

“I know.”

“Good. The hard part is remembering this when it’s all happening. I won’t lie to you. It can get downright scary. Just stay close to me and don’t take any chances.”

“You got it.”

They were speeding down the quiet road, occasionally catching glimpses of the flotilla of boats herding the whales toward the bay. She concentrated on slowing her breathing as she visualised herself floating in a warm pool of water. The same technique she used to calm her nerves before heading out on stage to play a concert. Her jangled nerves had her back to wondering why she hadn’t just made a big donation and spent her downtime the same way she always did. Because somehow the universe decided she need the best sex of her life. That’s why.

There were cars and people everywhere when they arrived at the bay. The whales hadn’t arrived yet and Biddy took the opportunity to take photos of the crowd and the water. She knew from stories and photos it would shift from beautiful blue to ugly red before the day was out.

They walked through the crowds, carefully avoiding body contact. The last thing they needed was someone accusing them of getting physical.

The people just kept coming and the buzz of excitement was indescribable. There was something about it that reminded her of those rare times during a concert when you could almost feel something crazy was about to happen. Most of those times they’d been lucky and the crazy hadn’t been bad, just intense. She had an awful feeling they weren’t going to be lucky.

Once the whales and the boats were visible, the crowd became more animated and by the time the whales had almost reached the shore, the crowd was frenetic. There were men wading into the water and hooking the whales through their blowholes. She’d been told the hooks weren’t sharp, but she wasn’t sure that mattered in the end.

She and Meike worked their way down to the water to get better shots. After all the photos and film footage she’d seen of this, she thought she could handle it. Truth was, nothing could prepare her for the reality in front of her.

The first spurt of blood flew into the air and the cheer from the crowd was deafening. Biddy immediately doubled over and lost her breakfast on the beach. There was a burst of laughter from the locals who saw her puke. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and startled. She looked up to see Meike.

“You okay? We can go.”

“No, I’m fine. Just the first shock. I doubt I have anything left to provide entertainment for the masses, now.” Biddy straightened up and lifted her camera, ready to start shooting.

“Okay. Just take it easy, and if it gets too much for you, we’ll leave.”

Biddy panned the shoreline filled with men wielding gaffs and knives. A familiar face caught her eye and she started shooting as she worked her way closer. It was the same guy that had scared the crap out of her the day she was waiting in the truck while Doug was in the pharmacy buying condoms.

Photos of the little bastard murdering a defenceless whale calf would have to be enough to satisfy her. She got as close as she dared, zooming on his face, zooming out again to show his size in relation to the poor baby he was butchering. She was momentarily distracted by the horror of the reddening sea, and when she returned her attention to the cowardly little baby killer, he was almost upon her.

She started to back away, but accidentally bumped into someone and was shoved forward. She never stopped taking photos, even continuing to click as she lifted her arm to protect herself from the gaff he was swinging down at her head.

When the pain caught up with her, she let go of the camera and puked what was left of her breakfast all over the bastard who had struck her. Thank fuck for the neck strap.

Meike grabbed her jacket and led her through the crowd. “We’ve got to get out of here before we can deal with your arm. Whatever you do, hold it together until we get to the truck. It sucks that you got hurt, but you did good. Better than good. I don’t know many seasoned volunteers who’d have kept shooting photos while a guy tried to gaff them in the head. I’m just so sorry I wasn’t there to stop it. I was too busy taking photos myself to catch what was going on until it was too late.”

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have gone for him. He’s the guy that was an asshole and scared the shit out of me while I was waiting in the truck a couple of weeks ago. Between that and what he was doing to that poor little creature, I didn’t feel I had any other option.”

It took forever, but they finally got through the worst of the crowd. Every bump and jostle was answered by fresh waves of pain and nausea and they had to keep stopping for Biddy to puke. Well, it was really dry-heaving after she’d unloaded all over the asshole.

“Come on, just a little farther.”

Biddy forced herself to ignore the pain shooting through her as she concentrated on nothing more than taking her next step.

As soon as they reached the truck, Meike loaded their gear, then gently helped Biddy into the vehicle and fastened her in. “I’m not even going to look at it. I saw the hit, and it’s off to the emergency room we go.”

She wasn’t really aware of much during the ride to the hospital beyond the jolts of pain with every bump in the road. She let Meike guide her into the ER and settle her into a chair in the waiting room. She gave up on finding a comfortable position for her arm and settled on letting it rest along her leg. What idiot furnished an ER waiting room with chairs that didn’t have armrests?

She stared at the clock and thought about how stupid she’d been for letting spite get the better of her. She focused on the second hand as it relentlessly ticked it’s way around the clock-face. She didn’t bother noting the passing minutes. Pain was something you handled one second at a time.

Meike took the seat next to her and said, “They’re not too busy, so it won’t be long.”

Her throat was dry and scratchy. “Could you hunt me down a drink of water?” she croaked.

“Sweetie, I wish I could, but it’s better if you can wait until they know how bad it is. If they need to operate, then having a drink now could make you have to wait longer.”

Operate? It hadn’t even occurred to her she might need surgery. Fuck. If they had to operate, they may as well let her die on the fucking table, because that would be preferable to death by Honeycunt.

Shit, even if they didn’t have to operate, she could still end up fucked for the tour. She had to calm the fuck down until she knew exactly what kind of freaking out she needed to do.

Biddy stared blankly at the wall, absently fiddling with Doug’s dog tags. She needed to let Owen and her band mates know what happened. She’d decided to send a single email to everyone, but she needed to come up with a good opening. She just had to spin it in such a way that nobody would panic and make matters worse.

The doctors had said she was lucky and it wasn’t serious. It was only a non-displaced ulna fracture, and once the swelling went down, they’d switch her to a functional forearm brace which would allow her the freedom of movement she’d need to play her bass. In the meantime, she was stuck wearing this L-shaped splint that transformed her useless arm into a loser sign.

After supper, she’d had a long conversation with Karen about her options. Leaving early was very tempting, but she could think of no real advantage beyond being in the comfort of her own home.

At least if she stayed until the end of her commitment, she’d be wearing the functional brace. In addition to it being much easier and more comfortable to travel in, the band and Owen would find it less alarming than the loser-splint. Karen had assured her there was plenty she could do one-handed, so she decided to stick it out.

Her other big worry was photos of the incident getting out before she could do some pre-emptive damage control. Fortunately, she and Meike were the only REN photographers when the incident happened and she had readily agreed to hold off posting them online until after Biddy had a chance to warn her loved ones. Of course, that didn’t mean there weren’t others taking photos at the time. She assumed there wouldn’t be any photos surfacing from the locals—it was unlikely they’d be looking for the kind of publicity those pictures would bring. Still, there was an element of unpredictability at play—the island was brimming with tourists, and it was folly to hope there had been none at the beach. Morbid curiosity was just a part of human nature, and the slaughter of an entire pod of whales certainly qualified as morbid.