Chapter Three
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Tracy said for what had to have been the fifth time since Kaidan had picked her up at Sam’s house.
He’d asked her to go with him, and a call from Claire had settled her nerves. If there was any alpha, besides Sam, she might have gone with, it would have been Kaidan. He was the quiet, sweet one of Claire’s alphas.
Claire said she would have come but had to stay with Karen. Whatever was going on, they didn’t want the girl to see.
“Try to relax,” Kaidan said as he opened the car door on her side, his voice mild.
They were at the hospital. She’d recognized the route quickly, and each turn that took them closer had only made it harder to breathe. Tracy stood but didn’t move away from the car, terror making her feet heavy.
Why was she there? What was she supposed to see?
“Is it Sam?” Her voice cracked. She hated hospitals, always had.
Ever since the first time Richard had broken her arm and she’d had to spend a night there, when she’d had to lie to the nurses and doctors about how it had happened, she’d always hated the place.
Now? The idea of Sam there made her stomach sink.
A weight came to rest on her shoulder, and she flinched from it.
Kaidan lifted his hand away, but he didn’t look insulted. Then again, Claire had been jumpy, too. Kaidan had to understand. “He’s alive,” he said.
The words alone let her breathe. At least she wasn’t identifying a body.
“What happened?”
“Why don’t we get you inside, and you can talk to the doctor yourself. She’ll answer any questions you have.”
Tracy couldn’t get her feet to move, but when Kaidan set a hand on her back, when he applied pressure, she followed the silent demand. Fighting an alpha, even one who had treated her well, wasn’t something Tracy did, so she numbly walked, following Kaidan’s cues.
They went into the hospital and took the elevator. The flashes of each time Richard had put her there rushed her, the times she had lain in the bed, her mate beside her, when they’d walked out of there and she’d known she was headed back to that house.
“Breathe,” Kaidan said.
Tracy lifted her head, realizing they’d come to stop in front of a door. Her lightheaded sensation said Kaidan was right, and she pulled in a gasping breath. Drywall bit into her palm as she grasped the wall to steady herself.
“You’ll feel better once you go inside.” Kaidan didn’t open the door, turning toward her instead. “Look at me, Tracy.”
She held on to his steady voice and lifted her gaze to his. He didn’t turn away, didn’t do anything but give her something steady. After a moment, he nodded as though he could see she’d gathered some sense of strength.
It fled from her, however, when he opened the door. Sam lay on the bed, his eyes closed, an IV from the crook of his elbow, bruises and discoloration marring his familiar face.
Her stomach sank at the sight of Sam hurt, and she knew then he meant more to her than she’d ever admitted.
Please don’t let me lose him already.
* * * *
Tracy pressed the button of the vending machine. She hadn’t eaten all night, having spent it sitting beside an unconscious Sam.
Him silent seemed wrong. A few of his fellow cops had come by, taken one look at her and treated her with an odd sort of reverence that surprised her. No one knew who had attacked him.
Well, I know. It was Mario. It had to be. She’d said nothing, though. Tracy wasn’t the sort to speak out of turn, to make decisions like that on her own. Maybe telling anyone would put them all in more danger. It left her sitting there, useless and helpless until Sam woke. Then again, that was what she was used to, letting others make choices, deal with her problems. Coward.
The doctor had insisted he’d recover, that he was unconscious due to the sedatives rather than injury. Alphas required specialized medication to put them out, much like omegas. The heightened hormone levels inside both made them unpredictable and dangerous.
Still, a night of the constant beeping of machines, the stench of bleach warping the comforting scent of Sam, left her on edge.
The metal of the vending machine twisted, but the package of crackers caught before they fell, dangling just out of reach.
Really?
Tracy stared in silence as the bag hung, some cosmic joke about the rest of her life, about things that were snatched away, always just out of reach and her helpless to do anything but watch.
Frustration grew inside her, sparked by the bag of crackers but fueled by everything else. By Sam being in a hospital bed because he’d tried to help her, by her past, by her lack of a future. It exploded inside her as she hit her palm against the plexiglass front of the machine.
It was a weak strike, yet more than she’d done before.
A huffed sound behind her reminded Tracy of exactly who and what she was and she twisted to face the newcomer, a wave of panic setting in.
A man stood behind her. No, not a man, an alpha. He was tall and wider than any man had a right to be. His hair was long, brushing just past his shoulders, and had an almost strawberry tint to the dark blond. In addition, facial hair covered his face, neatly groomed but spread over his chin, his jaw and his top lip. It all made him look wild, like some man who belonged in the middle of a jungle, not a brightly lit hospital. “You sure showed it.”
Tracy frowned at what seemed like a non sequitur, until the man nodded at the machine.
Right, the crackers.
Still, she said nothing. It was safer to say nothing, to give an alpha no reason to become angry.
The man laughed before reaching past her and kicking his booted foot against the vending machine. Sure enough, the crackers fell to the bottom, and he reached inside to grab the snack.
Tracy took them when offered, the response automatic. Do what alphas demand but give them nothing to use against you.
He leaned a shoulder against the vending machine, his gaze working over her in a slow, careful perusal. His eyes mirrored hers, a light brown but with flecks of green that lit up from the fluorescent. It didn’t seem fair that anyone should look good under fluorescent lights. “Are you here visiting someone?”
“Yes,” Tracy whispered.
“Your mate?”
The word had the color drain from her cheeks and her chest tighten. Mate? That word held so much more than just letters. It held her past, and pain, and fear, and a multitude of things she didn’t want to unbox with a strange alpha studying her far too closely.
She shook her head. “No, not my mate.”
He released a sound that wasn’t quite belief, his gaze never straying from her. “I see. Well, my name is Mason.”
Mason. She rolled the name on her tongue, testing it even as he watched her with unnerving intensity.
When she didn’t respond, didn’t offer him anything else, he tilted his head and gave a crooked smile. “Interesting,” he said so quietly, it was as though he spoke to himself. “Well, I think I’ll see you around.”
The strange man said nothing else before pushing off the machine and strolling away, Tracy’s gaze locking to his broad shoulders and wide back.
* * * *
“That’s nice.” Sam’s voice was rough from disuse, but he couldn’t not respond to the gentle way Tracy dragged her thumb over his hand. He’d woken to pain, dulled as it was, through his body, but damn if he noticed much beyond Tracy’s scent and that soft, chaste stroke.
Tracy yanked backward so fast he ached from the loss. He would have sworn he’d felt her while he’d been out, that sweet touch of her hands to his seeping past even the medication used to knock him out.
Was there anything better to wake up to?
“Are you okay? Doctor, he’s awake.” She rose from her spot to flag down a short doctor who stood on the other side of the room.
The woman came over, black hair pulled back in a ponytail, no makeup on, a no-nonsense attitude that made Sam suspect she made a terrible conversationalist but a great doctor.
Well, she’d kept him alive, so she had to be okay.
“How are you feeling?” The doctor leaned over him and flashed a light into his eyes.
“Fine.” Even though he didn’t always behave like a typical alpha, showing weakness was something even he didn’t care to do. Those instincts in him, the ones that made alphas far more animalistic than the betas, hated showing weakness. Weakness got people killed. Still, Sam reined in the desire to snap. Just because something was instinctual didn’t mean he couldn’t control it, couldn’t think through it.
The doctor snorted and finished her quick exam, though Sam’s gaze rarely strayed from Tracy, who stood back, her arms crossed, her body tense.
She still wore those clothes three sizes too large that hid her figure, but damn, he’d missed it.
“When can I get out of here?”
The doctor stood back, her lips thinning. “You shouldn’t leave for at least a week. Your arm is broken, a rib is cracked and you’ve sustained many contusions.”
Sam maneuvered himself to sitting, hiding just how much work that took. “I’ve had broken bones before and a cracked rib just takes time and rest. There’s no reason for me to stay here.”
“You’ll need help, and I understand you live alone.”
Sam waved her off with the arm not in a cast. Huh, look at that, it really is broken. “It’s fine.”
“I won’t release you if you’re going home alone, Mr. Franklin. Without help, you will need to remain here for at least a week.”
“I’ll help him.” Tracy didn’t come closer, and her voice was so soft it nearly didn’t carry over the argument between Sam and the doctor.
The doctor turned to face her. “I didn’t think anyone lived with him.”
Tracy’s gulp was loud, but she pressed on. “I’ll stay with him and help him.”
“Do you have experience with injuries?”
Shadows haunted her eyes, and Sam wanted to catch her hand, to pull her closer and press a kiss to her temple.
She’d never allow it, though, and she’d hate for him to do so in front of a stranger. Instead, he remained still, let her answer for herself.
As fast as those horrors crossed her eyes, she leashed them. “Yes, I know how to take care of injuries like this.”
The doctor didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she agreed to gather instructions for her and said they’d release him by nightfall.
Whenever that is. What time is it? What day is it?
When the doctor left, Sam and Tracy remained awkwardly, the entire hospital room between them.
“You shouldn’t have gone,” she said.
Even her chiding made him smile. Sure, he didn’t care for her seeing him beaten up. He wanted to be her hero, and yet he’d gotten his ass handed to him instead.
Doesn’t matter, I’ll keep her safe.
“This is just a scratch. Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s not a scratch. You were unconscious for over twenty-four hours. Your arm is broken.” Tears swam in her voice, and they broke Sam’s heart.
“Hey, no,” he said, voice gentle. “Come here.”
Her feet moved automatically, bringing her to his side in a moment. When he patted the side of the bed, she leaned her hip against it. “Don’t you dare cry.”
“What happened?”
He didn’t want to say anything because it would only make her worry. Unfortunately, that trembling bottom lip had him picking his words carefully. “Talked to Mario, and he’s not too inclined to just forget about this.”
Fear sparked in her amber eyes. “I told you. After you’re on your feet, I’ll run—”
He reached up with his good hand and cupped her cheek, risking the touch, hoping emotions ran high enough she wouldn’t flinch. “Not a chance. This doesn’t mean we’re done, it just means we figure out a different plan.”
“What plan?”
“Don’t worry about it right now.” Telling her the truth, that they’d have to find the files to use them as leverage, would only further frighten her. That was the last thing he wanted. “Have you been here the whole time?”
Tracy pushed her hair behind her ear, and the action caught his focus. Her hair, red and wild, haunted his dreams. He wanted to slip his fingers into the strands and hold her still as he kissed her breath away.
Instead, he contented himself with the thought and kept speaking when she didn’t answer. “You need sleep,” he said.
Tracy offered him a tired smile. “We’ll be going home in a few hours.”
Home. The way she called his house home had him feeling like the injuries didn’t matter. He liked the sound of that, the idea of them picking up Karen, of them all heading back to the home they shared. Hell, he liked the idea that she thought of it as safe.
As quickly as she said it, she seemed to notice the gravity. “I didn’t mean—”
Before he could wave her off, the doctor returned, a file in her hands. “Your emergency contacts were here earlier, and I need them to sign this.”
“What emergency contacts?”
The doctor lifted her gaze. “We called those on your file when you were brought in in case someone needed to make decisions for you.”
“I never filled out paperwork for that.”
“You did, but it was quite a while ago.”
“Who’s my emergency contact, then?”
A voice from the doorway caught his attention, answering before the doctor could. “Well, it’s been a while.”
Something flashed inside Sam, between happiness and anger, like a kick to the stomach when he laid eyes on Mason, his old friend. Wait, the doctor had said contacts, as in more than one.
Yep, there he is. Dylan strolled in next, his dark eyes full of menace and annoyance, his short hair still the same familiar light brown that almost made him look youthful. Almost. “Well, isn’t this cozy?”
“Fuck,” Sam muttered.
The two men he’d wanted nowhere near Tracy.