Alison didn’t care for playing the drunken damsel. She’d worked so hard to become strong that making herself appear weak felt like a huge hit to her ego.
However, that didn’t matter when she felt as though she had finally made progress. She’d spotted the man who had hit on her, and how he’d gone back to another two men, all three looking her way. In addition, another trio, who been sitting in a booth near the back door, their staring less obvious yet more intense, had left the club just in front of her.
Either could be nothing—just men looking for an easy target—but Alison doubted it. Both had studied her differently.
Lust, that she understood. She’d seen lust play across the features of so many men that she could spot it from anywhere. These two groups, however, had something else, something more clinical, more detached.
Since only one scouting group appeared to hunt in this area from what she had been able to find out, the odds were good that both sets of scouts worked for the same people. The larger groups took swaths of territory and hired nobodies to actually snatch the girls. It limited their risk. That hadn’t been easy information to find, but Alison was nothing if not tenacious.
If she could just get taken to the general holding area for omegas, she’d find her friend.
“Hey, sweet,” one of the men closest to her said, the one with the short, soft-looking hair and dark brown eyes. “You doing okay?”
“M’fine,” she slurred, giving him a grin that was all tease. “Heading home.”
“Right, well, maybe we should give you a ride there. Not sure you’re sober enough to make it yourself.” This time the larger alpha spoke, the one with the buzzed hair, square jawline and amber eyes.
He was exactly the sort of alpha to avoid, the kind far larger and stronger than anyone needed to be. Despite his nice words, his voice was deep and rough.
“Hey!” called a man from the other group.
Come on, let’s play nice. Just abduct me and get this over with.
“We saw her first,” said the man who had hit on her earlier. “She’s ours.”
“Fuck off,” responded the large, scary alpha, who didn’t sound nearly so sweet when talking to them. “If she was yours, you’d be here.”
Group two shifted, as if not sure they wanted to go up against the others.
Alison couldn’t blame them. Group two seemed like the everyday punks who thought they were tough because they’d gotten used to scaring people who couldn’t fight back. Group one, though? They struck her as men who not only could defend themselves but had no issue doing so—especially the one with the shaved head.
“But—” a man in group two said.
The man with the short dark hair and kind eyes gave the other group a chilling look. “You’re going to have to decide if she’s worth it, because it’s going to get very costly for you in a minute.”
The other man took a step backward, though he didn’t seem entirely cowed. “Yeah, well, don’t get comfortable here. I haven’t seen you before, and this area is already spoken for. This isn’t over.” With that, they backed off.
So, looks like group one is the winner.
Once the others had scurried off, and the winning group surrounded her, they seemed rushed. Probably want to get me out of here before the others come back with more.
She played her part perfectly, trying to look nervous, to back away until she pressed against the wall of the building and could go no farther. When she dashed forward, to break through them, the one who hadn’t spoken grabbed her and hauled her against his solid chest. He had brown hair, long enough to brush the collar of his shirt, pushed back. She flailed, making sure not to fight hard enough to actually break his hold.
“We’re not going to hurt you.”
Liar. She’d seen enough to know exactly what happened to omegas who were sold, and they most definitely got hurt.
Except then the alpha kept speaking. “We’re FBI. Just relax.”
Shit.
Suddenly the way they’d moved, the way they’d watched the club, all made sense. They’d picked the spot that best overlooked the club, had seemed to know immediately where all the exits were.
Yeah, they were trained, and FBI made as much sense as anything else.
Being brought in by the FBI was about the last thing she needed.
Which meant this little interaction was officially over.
Kyle held the omega tightly and tried to ignore how good she smelled, and how perfectly her body pressed against him. Sure, with her being drunk, it wasn’t as if he’d actually act on it, but he was a man, after all.
Not just a man but an alpha. What alpha could be expected to entirely ignore a squirming omega?
He’d whispered to her the truth, hoping to calm her. She was panicking as if stressed—something that annoyed his alpha side—but oddly he scented no fear on her.
Then again, scent was a tricky thing. He’d learned it wasn’t always reliable.
When he said they were FBI, that fight drained out of her.
Good.
He loosened his grip, not wanting to frighten her any more.
She swung her head backward, nailing him in the nose with a sickening crunch. His eyes watered before the pain registered, and he let go of her immediately.
What the fuck? Finding out he was one of the good guys was supposed to calm her, not set her off.
Kyle brought his hands to his face, the wetness telling him he was bleeding, his vision blurry. Anyone who said getting hit in the nose wasn’t a big deal was a liar.
He was pretty sure she’d broken the damn thing.
“Hold up,” Daniel said in that ‘I’m a good guy’ voice he had. If anyone could calm a panicking omega, it was Daniel. Except, then a grunt that Kyle would have recognized anywhere as Daniel’s said that he hadn’t quite succeeded.
Kyle blinked away the tears in his eyes, that damn automatic reaction, in time to see Trent barring her escape. He had his hands up, palms out. “Already told you that we aren’t here to hurt you.”
The omega didn’t back down—not that he was suddenly believing the whole ploy. She’d gone rather quickly from so drunk she couldn’t walk to surprising two trained FBI agents.
It seemed she wasn’t exactly what she’d pretended to be.
The omega dashed forward, but Trent countered, able to avoid a strike to his ribs and twist her body until she leaned against him.
While Kyle and Daniel both knew about fighting—they had to in their line of work—Trent had always been the best at it. Suddenly he wasn’t quite as annoyed about Trent staying.
She swung her head back, but it seemed Trent had learned from Kyle’s mistake, because he tilted his to avoid it. When she tried to stomp on his foot, he quickly shifted it. The two seemed evenly matched.
At least, that was what Kyle thought until the omega lifted her foot to stomp again. Trent moved to dodge the hit, but doing so meant he had to shift his weight. The omega threw her body in that direction, unsettling Trent’s stance and bringing them both toppling down.
It was almost beautiful, in a twisted and violent way.
Trent put his arm out, trying to stop his fall from crushing the much smaller omega beneath him. That seemed to be exactly what she’d been waiting for, because she rolled when she hit the ground, avoiding Trent’s attempts to grab her again. She was quick, small and a few steps ahead.
That gave her an advantage, because before Trent could rise, before he could pick up all his bulk from the ground, the omega got her feet beneath her and took off.
She rushed toward the back of the parking lot and scaled the chain link fence as if the fight hadn’t winded her at all.
Kyle kept his hands over his nose, despite the stickiness of blood leaking down over his lips. “Well, damn. Can’t say I expected that.”
Daniel and Trent both grunted softly, as if in agreement.
Then again, who would ever have expected a tiny omega to lay out three full-sized alphas?
If he’d been attracted before…it was nothing close to now.