When He's an Alpha (The Olympus Pride 2)

Nearing her car, she unlocked it with the key fob but didn’t hop in—she was busy deleting the shit-mail from the inbox of her email account. That done, she pocketed her phone and reached for the door handle. Feeling a sharp prick on her lower leg, she went to slap at the spot, hoping to squash the damn mosquito. But then there were two more sharp stings in quick succession—one on her thigh, and one on her arm. She glanced down and muttered a curse as she saw three darts. What in the everloving fuck?

Snapping her head up, she turned and—there. A mean-looking asshole was standing near a large van, holding a tranquilizer gun. He met her gaze, his mouth gaping open as he no doubt wondered why the darts were having no effect.

Anger washed through Havana and her devil, who let out a furious snarl. Havana charged at the bastard, sprinting across the lot. His eyes widened. He fired again, hitting her dead center in the chest, but she kept on coming. He bit out a loud curse.

With a surge of good ole devil strength, she yanked the gun out of his grip and slammed the butt of the weapon on his head, dazing him. Wicked fast, she flipped the gun around and shot him twice in the neck. His hand fluttered at his throat as he tried pulling—

The driver’s door swung open and a huge hulking male jumped out of the van. She fired, but no darts came out. Fuck. She tossed the weapon at his head, but he jerked aside, dodging it.

He slammed his meaty fist into her jaw, making her head whip to the side. She twisted her body with a hiss and snapped out her leg, delivering a pitiless bladder shot that made him grunt and stagger back into the door he’d left open.

Lunging forward, she lashed out and raked her uber sharp claws down his face and—

“Havana!”

The sound of footsteps thundering along the ground made the bastard curse. He leapt into the vehicle, and then it disappeared with a squeal of tires. Corbin and Camden pursued it, yelling at the driver, who hadn’t even closed the door yet.

Bailey and Aspen came straight to Havana, their eyes wide.

“You okay?” asked the bearcat.

“Fine,” replied Havana, plucking the darts out of her body. She rubbed at her jaw. “That fucker has a punch on him. He was a wild dog shifter. I haven’t come across one of those in a while.”

Bailey planted her hands on her hips. “What the hell was all that about?”

“I don’t know.” Havana looked down at the shooter, who’d slid to the ground at some point and was out cold. Cougar, she sensed. “But maybe he can tell us when he wakes up.”

Sitting on the chair in front of the shooter, Havana smiled as he started to come around. They’d taken him to the storage basement within the rec center, stripped him naked, and then securely bound him to a sturdy chair. “Hi, welcome back.”

His eyelids lazily fluttered open. It was another minute before reality seemed to hit him. And then he went stiff as a board. He probably would have shifted if she hadn’t made the bindings so tight—the zip ties would cut right into him if he tried it.

“I know it must be somewhat disconcerting to wake up and find yourself naked and tied to a chair while surrounded by five pissed-the-fuck-off shifters. But as you’re responsible for the pissed-the-fuck-off part, I figure you realize this is totally your fault and all.”

His eyes darted around the basement, no doubt seeking exits. There was only one. Corbin was currently standing at the base of the steps in front of it, calm as you please. He’d agreed to take a backseat and let Havana lead. He knew about her old “side job.” It was the same job Bailey, Aspen, and Camden had had once upon a time.

“Now, you probably already know that my name is Havana Ramos.” She gave their captive an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you tell me yours?”

The cougar held her gaze, his own glimmering with defiance.

Havana sighed. “Aspen, be a dear and give the kitty a temporary name. It would be rude to just refer to him as ‘Asshole.’”

Leaning against the wall near Camden, Aspen paused in filing her nails to study the cougar. “He looks like a Bogart to me.”

“Really?” Bailey tossed a mint into her mouth as she sidled up to Havana. “I would have said Chauncey. Or Hyman. It’s an honest to God’s boys name, I swear.”

“And the perfect name for a pussy, which is exactly what we have here,” said Aspen before going back to her nails.

“Then Hyman it is,” said Havana. Turning back to him, she held up the phone that she’d dug out of his pocket earlier. “We’re going to need your PIN, Hyman.”