Page 20 of Omega's Triplets

“GODDAMN IT, HARLEY,” Jamie groaned as he jumped on his own bike. Both of his brothers were so reckless, so impulsive, but Harley was, by far, the worst. At least Marktriedto control his animal nature. He was just bad at it. But Harley never even made the effort.

Jamie hung back a little way, following at a respectable pace instead of the breakneck one set by his brother. It had already occurred to him that if this girl was running, they might as well take her with them. That would solve the problem posed by kidnapping someone against her will, at least potentially. But someone was going to have to let Mark know what was going on. Jamie couldn’t help but feel that Harley should have made some kind of plan with him before taking off like that.

He caught up with his brother where the dirt road through the woods met the highway. Harley had jumped off his bike and dropped to his knees. Jamie parked his own bike carefully and walked over to see what was going on.

The girl had fallen. Her arm and her face were scraped and bleeding, and she appeared to be unconscious. Jamie didn’t think she’d been riding fast enough to do herself serious harm, but with biking accidents, you never really knew. He squatted beside his brother.

Harley held out a hand without looking up. “Give me your jacket.”

“What?”

“She’s practically naked.”

“Why don’t you give her your jacket?”

“Because mine’s short and yours is long. Come on, Jamie.”

Jamie sighed. He wasn’t really as exasperated as he supposed he seemed. It made sense to take care of the girl, especially if they hoped to make her their omega. He stripped off his biking jacket and handed it to Harley. On Jamie, the jacket hung just a little past the hips, but as Harley slid the girl carefully into it and zipped it up, it fell almost to her knees.

“We need to take her back to the hotel and get her cleaned up,” Jamie said, glancing around. “Those Death Fangs could realize she’s gone missing at any minute. We don’t want to be found here.”

“Someone needs to get Mark,” Harley said.

Now he’s thinking.“Go after him. You can come back on my bike. I’ll take the girl to the hotel.” This was the most logical plan. Jamie had the most experience patching up injuries, since his two brothers always seemed to be the ones getting themselves into scrapes.

Harley clearly recognized the wisdom in Jamie’s suggestion. “All right,” he agreed. “Be careful with her.”

“Don’t be seen,” Jamie responded.

Harley turned and ran back into the woods. Jamie carefully lifted the girl, moving her slowly, feeling for broken bones as he went. She seemed, more or less, all right, although she might have a concussion. He placed her astride Harley’s bike and climbed on behind her, holding the handlebars with one hand. The other arm he wrapped around her, from right hip to left shoulder, securing her tightly against his chest.

He drove slowly back to the hotel, doing his best not to jostle the girl, but he felt her wake up as they pulled into the parking lot. She struggled a little against him as he lifted her into his arms, but she was too weak to do much, and he carried her easily through the blessedly empty lobby and up to the room he was sharing with his brothers, where he deposited her carefully on one of the beds.

She looked up at him fearfully, not saying anything.

Jamie grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom, wet it, and sat on the bed beside her. “I’m going to clean your head, okay?”

“What?”

“You cut it when you fell. Do you remember?”

“A little...”

“Were you trying to run away? From the Death Fangs?”

Her eyes widened in sudden fear. “You’re not going to turn me in, are you? Please don’t. I’ll do anything you want. Just please don’t send me back to them.”

“I’m not sending you back,” he said. “You don’t have to do anything. I just want to look at this cut on your head. Okay?”

Hesitantly, she nodded.

Jamie eased her hair out of the way. It was red and curly, soft in his fingers, and he found he liked the touch of it quite a lot. But he had to stay focused. There, high on her temple, was a long cut, trickling blood. He pressed the washcloth gently against it.

She flinched.

“What’s your name?” he asked, both hoping to distract her and intent on discovering whether she was concussed.

She hesitated a long time, as if it were a question she was unused to answering. “Maddy,” she said finally. “My name is Maddy.”

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