Page 11 of Ruffled Feathers

I nodded, but Truett narrowed his eyes. “So she couldn’t identify you if she went to the authorities?” I knew Truett would get someone to run the name Lance Alcott the second he got back to his apartment tonight.

The guy shook his head. “No. If she’d asked for my real name, or ID, I would have handed it over.” He shrugged. “I liked being someone’s white knight, I guess.”

I snorted a laugh, because it was a feeling I knew all too well. “Tillie has that effect. You think she needs saving, but eventually, you realize she’s fierce, and maybe you’re the one who needs saving.” He frowned, and I cleared my throat, letting all the mirth leave my face. “I trust her judgment”—I ignored Truett’s scoff—“but just know, if you mess with her in any way, I’m going to fuck your life up so bad that living under a bridge will seemlike paradise. I can make you disappear forever, and not even your dog will mourn you.”

If I’d bet on him being angry or incredulous toward my threats, I would’ve lost. He merely nodded his head and turned toward the kitchen. Spotting the flash of silver around his neck, I realized that there might be more to Lance Alcott than simply being an out-of-work, down-on-his-luck Beta.

Truett was watching his departing back too, then turned to me with wide, disbelieving eyes. “She moved a man in here, Sonny. Some fucking hobo. You have to talk to Buck and Citrine, get them to come home.”

Yeah, no.There was no way I was calling Buck and saying, “Oh, hey, do you remember when you told me to look after your only child? Well, I got busy at work, and she moved in a whole petting zoo and some strange man.”

Hard pass.

“I don’t get bad vibes from him, True.”

Rolling his eyes, Truett lowered his voice again. “You’re worse than Juice. We knownothingabout this guy. He needs to go.”

“I think he’s former military,” I told my friend quietly. I’d seen my share of veterans; some came into the fire department after they were discharged from the military. They held themself in a particular way—their movements were always considered, and their eyes always scanned an area, like they were trying to find threats. Lance Alcott gave me veteran vibes, and the flash of dog tags at his neck only further confirmed it for me.

Shaking his head, Truett muttered, “That might make him more of a loose cannon. She can’t stay here alone with him.”

Unfortunately, I agreed with him on that. She might be fierce, but she was also vulnerable. My Alpha instincts wouldn’t let any threat to her stand. “Guess I’m moving back in then.”

He stared at me like I was an idiot, then turned on his heel and strode into the kitchen. I followed along behind him, ready to mediate the Truett and Tillie show. I swear, they bickered like an old married couple.

I saw how he watched her, though, like he wanted to eat her alive. My best friend had had a crush on Otillie-James Baler for years, and I was a selfish asshole, knowing that he hadn’t made a move on her because of me.

We were Alphas. We needed an Omega. And Otillie-James was my stepsibling. She wasn’t someone we could have a short affair with, then drop once our Omega came along. I wouldn’t do that to her, or to our family.

But if I couldn’t have her, he couldn’t either. I didn’t care how much the idea of her dating and marrying some other fucker made my stomach burn. At least my misery would have company.

I strolled into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast bar, the same one I’d eaten at every day of my childhood. Tillie pushed a plate with a huge sandwich toward me, and I smiled softly at her. She pushed one toward Truett too. Maybe she’d spat in it, but she’d still made it for him. Such a big damn heart.

“So it turns out, Tillie, that my apartment building has termites, and I have to move out for a month. So I thought I might move back in here,” I lied easily, taking a big bite of my sandwich so she wouldn’t ask follow-up questions. Wishful thinking.

“Oh, really. What fumigation system are they using?”

I blinked at her. “Uh, the one that’s like a big tent?” How was I supposed to know fumigation systems? “Super didn’t say. Just said we have to be out.”

“Where’s Mrs. Pentergast going to stay?” she asked lightly.

I didn’t fucking know. My next-door neighbor was a hundred if she was a day, lived alone, and I swear, I’d spoken three words to her since moving in there. “Uh, with her son?”

Tillie pointed a finger at me. “You’re full of shit, Edison Chalmers. Mrs. Pentergast doesn’t have kids, and you can’t tent fumigate an apartment building, you big dummy.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Fine, but I’m still moving in.”

She crossed her own arms. “Fine. It’s your house.”

I winced at the old barb, because it was my house. I would inherit it once our parents died. It would become my Packhouse eventually, and the fortune that we all lived on would one day be mine. Which made me feel guilty as hell.

My father and his family had been rich. High-society rich. When my mom had married Buck, they’d made sure that the entire Chalmers estate would come to me and not to him, partially because they wanted to protect my mother from gold diggers, but also because they wanted to preserve the family lineage.

Granted, that side of the family might have been cursing their decision now, because instead of going to college to earn a degree that’d allow me to take over the Chalmers business holdings, I went and became a firefighter.

I blamed Tillie getting stuck in that tree at our parents’ wedding years ago. Climbing that tree, knowing I was the only one who could help her get unstuck, had been satisfying in a way that I hadn’t felt before. Truett liked to say that was when I became addicted to being the hero, and maybe he was right.

Whatever it was, I felt like I was finally doing something I could be proud of, and I wouldn’t change that for anything, despite the subtle digs my grandparents aimed my way at Thanksgiving dinner.

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