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

Tate helped his mate to her feet, raking his gaze over her, his heart pounding like a fucking drum. “Baby, tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m not hit,” she assured him, her eyes wide. “You good?”

“No, because those motherfucking fuckers came at you in my own backyard.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Told you something bad was going to happen.”

He just stared at her for a few seconds. Then he hauled her against him and hugged her tight, needing to feel her safe and warm and alive in his arms. Several of his pride mates crowded them, including Luke and Alex—both of whom looked ready to burn shit down.

“Oh my freaking good God, what the hell?” Aspen burst out as she and Bailey shouldered their way through the crowd. “Are you both okay?”

“We’re okay,” said Havana. “Though my heart is racing a mile a minute.” She looked up at Tate. “Thank you for shoving me out of harm’s way.”

He kissed her forehead, not loosening his hold on her. His muscles hurt with the effort to hold back his cat—the feline wanted to shift, hunt, and kill.

“That was the same Charger from the drive-by,” said Bailey, her eyes narrowed.

“I know,” said Tate, his voice like gravel. “As soon as Farrell calls and tells us where those assholes stopped, I’ll be heading their way.”

“And I’ll be going along with you,” Havana announced. “No, Tate, don’t argue. I know you want to stick me in your sock drawer where I’ll be nice and safe, but no coddling. This shit has everything to do with me. I want in on it every step of the way. You wouldn’t stay behind if our positions were reversed.”

He opened his mouth to argue, even though he couldn’t deny that she was right. But then he thought better of it. He had no chance of earning her devil’s trust if he treated Havana like she didn’t know her own strength or couldn’t take care of herself. She was an alpha, and he had to treat her like one—especially since he planned on making her his Alpha female. “Fine. Let’s get to the SUV. I want us to be ready to move in an instant.”

Soon enough, a bunch of people were piling into the pride’s seven-seater SUV. Luke slid into the driver’s seat, Tate rode shotgun, Vinnie and Alex sat in the second row, and Havana settled on the rear passenger seats with Aspen and Bailey, who insisted on coming.

It wasn’t easy to sit still when adrenaline and anticipation pumped through his veins. His cat was pacing, just as eager to get to the people who’d targeted his mate yet again.

It didn’t take long for Tate’s phone to start ringing. “Where are they, Farrell?” he answered.

Farrell rattled off an address. “They’re both packing a bag, Tate. Looks like they’re getting ready to run.”

“Sit tight unless they try to leave before we get there. We’re on our way.” Tate ended the call and spoke the address out loud.

“Got it,” said Luke, pulling out onto the road.

“Now I need to find out who lives there.” Tate sent a text to River, asking for the details of whoever resided at the address. “According to Farrell, our boys are packing a bag. They probably don’t want to hang around to tell their boss they failed him again.”

“This was probably their chance to redeem themselves for failing Gideon once before,” mused Alex.

“It’ll be best not to interrogate them at their home,” said Tate. “If Gideon decides to go looking for them and then realizes they’re dead, he’ll suspect we questioned and killed them. We don’t want him to know that we’re getting closer.”

“I had that same thought,” said Vinnie.

Tate turned to his brother. “If they haven’t finished packing by the time we’ve arrived, do it for them and make it look like they bailed.”

“Will do,” said Luke.

Silence reigned right up until Tate received a text message from River. “The house is owned by a human who is currently renting it to both Malcolm Taggart and Vernon Clementine,” said Tate. “They’re humans, apparently. But they could be lone shifters posing as humans to their landlord. We’ll soon find out.”

After that, no one talked much throughout the drive. Everyone sat up straight as Luke parked the SUV in a somewhat shady neighborhood.

“The plan is simple,” said Tate. “We apprehend them, tie them up, and bring them back to my dad’s apartment for questioning.” There was a spare room they used specifically for that purpose.

Tate twisted in his seat and skimmed his gaze over Havana and her girls. “You three stay here and keep watch over the SUV. We’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” the trio said in unison.

Tate blinked, surprised they hadn’t insisted on coming along. Then again, the interrogation wouldn’t be held here, so the women would only be missing out on watching Malcolm and Vernon get apprehended—it wouldn’t exactly be entertaining.